#Roger's dancing is so cute

[hellogoodbyegirl]

[timewontwait]

this game is gonna inject so much muse back into me i can already tell

[hauntingblue]

COMPLETELY forgot that blackbeard was the one that attacked drum??? Omg

So if everything usopp lies about ends up becoming true.... He is dying dying

Zoro reacting like this after his best hunting contest with sanji.... Yeah... (Zoro not trusting Luffy is defeated and Luffy thinking Zoro is trouble if he gets captured... Yeah)

I don't think Zoro posing to become a cool statue has the right to say anything about being a brainless idiot....

She did NOT take igarams advice because still in arabasta Luffy had to punch her to make her understand ajshajsni the sacrificing others at least (also Vivi asking zoro to cut her off too..... Insane as always)

Luffy coming thru once again.... Zero hesitation....

This page is so,,... It goes stupidly hard... Once again being kind and having a pure heart pays off

Wait a second,,,, kuro WHAT.... I think sanji hasn't called Zoro Marino yet.... Inspo...

Express round: sanji is dying soon, chopper is cute and why is full body blushing with jango's glasses on his hand???

[ronearoundblindly]

Lease

best-friend!roommate!reader x Steve Rogers

*This was a totally random and spontaneous idea. Not edited. Light language (so we can get *the joke*), pining, light angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff. This work is for all ages! WC ~2k

Sam Wilson introduces you. Both your parents were veterans and active at the VA, so you practically grew up there.

At first, you’re reserved, a little formal, but very nice. Oddly enough, Steve just likes that you don’t hound him with questions about his military service and how it was different based on the decade, etc. You are just…around to listen.

He finds himself filling any (comfortable) silence between you with stories. Stupid things. Things that don’t have to do with the VA or his past or even his present, which is entirely work as Captain America.

Steve gets to a point where he is itching to live off of Avengers Campus, but he doesn’t want to live alone.

One day he finds you hunched over a laptop and grumbling, “why is everything so fucking expensive?”

A sentiment which, of course, he frowns at.

“Sorry,” you shrug, a look of sincere apology on your distraught face. “I didn’t realize it, but apparently, I’m poor with my measly three-thousand-dollar-a-month budget for an apartment. Now I have to find a roommate, and—“ you start wagging a finger at him sarcastically “—I don’t know if you’ve noticed there’re some real weirdos out there. It’ll take me longer to find a safe, stable roomie than it takes to—“

“I can move in with you.”

Steve almost gasps at how fast the words fly out of his mouth.

“Well, not ‘move in’ to your current place. I mean. I can—I would be willing to live with you. Sorry! That sounds bad. You’re not bad. I meant…you know, anytime you want to chime in and stop me would be helpful.”

You remain silent and smirking.

“Right. Okay. So…think about it? Or not, that’s fine.”

“Let’s talk figures, Rogers. The square-footage just doubled, and I need to rework the budget.”

Moving in is shockingly uneventful. You’re easy to get along with, when not suddenly up on your high horse about something, and Steve is easy to get along with under the same circumstances. You push his militant rigidity to the brink on purpose, but never too far.

Things sit out in the wrong place, but it’s never dirty. Stuff doesn’t always get returned promptly, but if he asks, you’re on it.

There are two bathrooms, thank mercy.

He has random and odd hours. You work nine to five, mostly. It’s the perfect level of independence without loneliness for Steve.

Sam and Natasha stop by regularly or ask you both out for drinks or to fun, new places.

One time, when Nat is ribbing Steve to go talk to a cute girl ordering at the bar, he panics and takes your hand in his on the tabletop.

“How can I do that when my date is right here?” he grits playfully through his pearly white teeth. “Leave it alone.”

Each word is punctuated by a shift forward and a slight tilt of his head.

Natasha is unamused and instantly grabs your other hand (which was holding your drink) to pull you toward the dance floor.

It’s awkward for multiple reasons. You’d pay a whole month’s rent to know what Sam and Steve talked about after you left.

Sam takes a different approach, luring—or attempting to lure—Steve into setting up just one dating profile online.

“You don’t have to put photos,” Sam assures, “and you can stick with your first name only. I swear to you, man, this’ll be good for you. Get you out there more. Help me out here, Tagalong!”

He turns to you for support. To be fair, you did quite literally tag along with your parents for years to the VA, and it stuck. Why it sticks as a grown-ass adult? You’ll never know. You just don’t mind Sam Wilson saying it because he means well and never uses it in public.

“Uh, nooooo.”

Sam’s face falls. “What?”

You look at Steve and grimace, clicking your tongue. “He’s not ready for that,” you conclude.

Steve jumps out of the chair, arms wide with victory.

“THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!”

“I know you told her to say that,” Sam shouts back.

“Did not,” Steve barks.

“He did not.” You lean against your bedroom doorframe. “I just think it’s obvious.”

That makes Steve deflate a little. “Wait, but…I’m not that bad.”

“Oh gosh,” you fake with a huge smile, “look at the time! Gotta be off to bed…”

The men keep fighting albeit muffled from your side of the wall. The only part you can make out before giving them privacy is Sam, whining, “but you actually like bubble baths and walks on the beach, dude. You’re gonna be money on there.”

“Hey, why do you not, ya know, date?”

You look up from your breakfast, stunned because that came out of nowhere. You’ve lived together over six months now, and Steve hasn’t asked for one iota of personal—well, romantically personal—information.

Twiddling your fork around, you think.

“I always imagine what my parents would think of him, any guy I’ve ever considered being with longterm, and…I was just never proud to say ‘here, here’s the one,’ I guess.”

Your parents have been gone for years. You value their opinion anyway.

“Mhm,” Steve hums, “the one?”

You take a bite of food, straightening your back, tossing a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

He’s quiet for a while.

“So you’re waiting for the right partner?” Steve finally mutters, and he watches your noncommittal gesturing intently.

That was a ‘yes.’

Natasha knows. Sam knows. Steve suspects but won’t admit to anything. You are kind and unreadable.

You’ve always been kind, so there’s no discernible difference to signal you have feelings for him in return. He can’t bring himself to be anything less than a gentleman at home and makes absolutely no moves to find out.

He stays out in the living room a lot more, all hours, hoping you’ll mention staying in for a movie, praying you’ll be tired enough to fall asleep on his lap on the couch.

He’s in way too deep.

What Steve suspects is that it would be too awkward to start anything while living together, but he doesn’t want to leave you in the lurch for rent or a roommate. He also desperately doesn’t want to move out. The status quo is comfortable.

He loves being comfortable with you.

The stress of not telling you, while needing to make some sort of arrangements should telling you blow up in his face, starts to wear on him.

Steve is a pro at compartmentalizing his life, so it’s when he’s stuck at the apartment without any missions, a handful of meetings, and a team that all have lives for two long months that he cracks…in the least attractive way.

He’s messed up his sleep schedule with worry and playing innocent, and out of the not-so-blue, a horrible, vivid nightmare hits him. Steve isn’t even on the mattress anymore by the time he figures out there wasn’t carpet like this in Germany and the desk chair he grips is not a motorcycle.

“Rogers,” he hears. “Rogers, can you look at me?”

The dark room is somehow hollow and stifling all at once. His head turns slower than his brain tells it to.

Steve blinks.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Hey, sweets,” he husks from a dry throat. “What…”

“Can you tell me where this is?” You step closer and pry one of his hands off the mesh to cradle in yours. “Where are we, Rogers?”

“Home.” He swallows. “Our home.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, but you nod like he’s done well.

“Okay, Steve, I’m going to get you some water. If you want—“ your fingers smooth over the back of his hand, nudging the other to release the chair “—you can sit on the bed.”

You don’t leave. You don’t even get up from the floor.

He doesn’t notice he’s clutching your hands, shaking slightly until long seconds go by.

“Yeah. Okay.” Steve lets go, otherwise unmoving, contemplating how he ever thought the semi-rough industrial carpet felt the same as mud.

You carefully hand him the water and rub his back, using your nails to trace invisible patterns. He can’t remember what he was so scared of a minute ago. He only knows he’s sweating that empty kind of confused.

“What’s that supposed to do?” he asks absently.

You shrug. “Eh. Back scratches just feel good.”

Steve’s mind remains blank as he sips his water.

: We need to renew the lease soon. Like this week.

Steve has stalled as long as humanly possible; he is officially not being a gentleman now. He is a coward.

: Talk about it when I get home?

: Could you at least tell me if this is a hard NO on staying here or just some concerns/questions? : I don’t get why you’re being like this.

Steve gets it, but he hates it.

: I’ll be back tonight. Should I pick up food?

: ffs : Fine. Whatever you want.

Steve also hates when you’re mad at him…which has been happening more and more.

He’s been distant, he refuses to let Sam or Nat come around for fear they’ll play match-maker and ruin the whole thing, and he is about to ruin the whole thing anyway.

Because he is not smooth. Because he is not prepared. Because he’s built up this perfect and amazing, sweep-you-off-your-feet moment.

And he bungles it.

“Out with it,” you command, haughtily yanking your portion of food from the countertop beside him, heading for the dinette.

“I want to be with you,” he blurts.

“Thank god,” you sigh, settling in your spot. “So we’ll go down to the office and sign in the morning. I don’t want there to be an issue if you’re off to wherever for who-the-hell-knows how long on the date the thing expires.”

“No, I…” but Steve’s voice is too quiet.

“There’s only a tiny window where they’re open before I have to head to work, so let me physically sign first, right? Then I gotta go.”

“Sure,” he slurs.

“Steve?” You turn to see him staring down at his food. He’s still across the room. “Are you okay?”

“I said I—I meant that—“ he huffs out his breath and taps his fist on the counter “—I meant that I’m an idiot,” he finishes softly.

Approaching with that beautiful, open-hearted kindness that haunts his days and soothes his night, you cross to him, scratching his back just the way he’s grown to crave.

“Think you might be hangry,” you chuckle.

He cannot do this. Steve is hanging on by a thread until the graze of your hand slides down his forearm to take his plate, and he spins.

He’s thought about kissing you so many times, he mapped out the angles he’d have to hold himself at, how far he needs to lean to get to you, the care to take wrangling in his strength and sheer excitement.

Steve Rogers is good at planning, at least, this part.

Gentle pecks of his plush lips to yours leave gaps in contact that let you whimper, and he fears you stopping him. He presses, wrapping his arms around you and molding your bodies together. The linoleum of the kitchen floor makes sticky sounds beneath your shuffling feet, squeaking once you hit the adjacent wall.

The force of that knocks your frozen arms into his chest, and painfully, Steve relents to step away, but not far. He bites his bottom lip and tastes the balm from yours, his head tilted in shame but fiery eyes watching you from beneath long lashes.

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Oh…you meant…”

Steve’s tongue darts out hungrily.

“Yeah.”

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

They're soooo cute!!!!!!

[archiveikemen]

Elbert Greetia 1st Birthday Campaign (2024): Story

His POV

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

Kate: Lord Elbert, please open your eyes. 

Elbert: … May I?

Kate: Yes, go ahead. 

Led by Kate who told me to keep my eyes closed, I found myself in the dining room of Crown’s castle.

(Wow…) 

Mornings in this castle weren’t usually lively, so it was common for it to be empty. 

But this morning— the dining table was lined with a variety of vibrant looking dishes. 

Victor • William: Happy birthday, Elbert. 

POP! With a light sound, a party popper burst open and confetti danced in the air. 

Elbert: …

Elbert: Is this… a birthday celebration?

Kate: Yes! Since you and I have plans to go out together tonight, I discussed it with everyone and we decided to celebrate your birthday over breakfast. 

Kate: Happy birthday, Lord Elbert. 

Standing next to me, Kate smiled brightly with sparkling eyes  as though it were her own celebration. 

(... Cute.)

The sight of that smile was enough to warm the coldest part of my heart—,

Elbert: … Thank you. 

When I received her greeting, a smile naturally formed on my face. 

I immediately realised that it was my first time ever smiling like that. 

Ellis: … [surprised]

Harrison: … Oh? 

A few observant Crown members stared at me in surprise. 

Kate: …? 

Not understanding what was going on, Kate blinked in confusion. 

(There's no need to explain to her why everyone’s surprised.)

(Thinking about all the birthdays I’ve had up till last year will definitely hurt your kind heart.) 

Alfons: I do wonder if a breakfast this heavy would be too much for Lord Elbie’s stomach so early in the morning. 

Having sensed what I was feeling, Al changed the topic.

This childhood friend of mine was always quick to notice the little details.

I thought it was admirable that he and I were opposites in that aspect. 

Liam: He might not be able to finish everything, but he should at least have some cake.

Victor: Kate and I handmade it together last night! 

Alfons: I had a hard time dealing with Elbie’s urge to barge in and ruin the surprise. 

Roger: How did you manage to distract him?

Alfons: By making him choose a dress and accessories for tonight’s party. 

Kate: Eh!? Another new dress…?

The party we were to attend tonight was hosted by one of the companies running the estate. 

Although Kate felt that it was odd to have a party on the lord’s birthday, the hosts weren't to blame… because my birthday wasn't widely known. 

Kate: Thank you, Lord Elbert.

Elbert: Hope you like it. 

Alfons: I can't believe this man tried to buy out the entire store because he didn’t know which one you'd like. 

Elbert: … I narrowed it down to what would suit you most.

Kate: Uhh… now I feel like my present for you is nothing compared to this…

Elbert: A present from you? 

Kate: Of course I had something prepared. I’ll give it to you tonight when we return from the party. 

(A present. From Kate to me.) 

I was so happy, my face felt strange. Was I smiling? I didn't know myself. 

One thing for sure was that… I was glad I met you and had you by my side.

Elbert: Thank you. 

Kate: Fufu, it's too early to thank me. I haven't given it to you yet. 

Alfons: Can the two lovebirds over there please cut the cake already?

Alfons: How about you feed each other too? It’s a special occasion after all. 

Kate: Huh!? 

Elbert: … Shall we? 

Kate: Lord Elbert, you too…

Victor: Yes, yes… that’d be so precious to watch, I might cry. Harry, can I borrow your handkerchief?

Harrison: Use your own. 

Roger: Looks like the corrupted heart is being purified, huh, Al?

Jude: If this guy gets purified, he’d probably disappear completely. 

Alfons: Ahha! What cruel words. It was I who set up this wonderful scene, you know?

Kate’s face turned as red as an apple at the teasing around her.

Elbert: Mm… delicious. 

Kate: I- I’m glad you think so.

Kate: … I hope this birthday will be a happy one.

(It’s already the happiest birthday of my life…) 

However, I kept that from her because I wanted more. 

…

After we enjoyed the breakfast feast and got ready for the party, we boarded the carriage while I resisted the urge to keep her, dressed in her new dress, all to myself.

The party we were attending went smoothly. 

Since my birthday wasn’t widely known, the reactions I received from the people around me were as per usual. 

Elbert: Kate, I’ll go chat with the host for a little bit.

Kate: Alright. See you. 

Elbert: Be careful. Call for me immediately if anything happens. 

When I had to leave Kate’s side, a wave of regret washed over me. 

(If only I had made it known that it’s my birthday today.)

(That way… I can stay by Kate’s side the whole time.) 

Those were things I never would've thought of in the past. 

(If I think of it as something Kate brought into my life… perhaps this feeling of regret isn’t so bad.) 

(... I should go back to her as soon as possible.)

…

A few minutes after Elbert left Kate’s side, a soft voice spoke to her from behind.

Calm Elderly Woman: Are you the young lady Elbert is dating?

Kate: ! Yes, my name is Kate. Pardon my discourtesy, but may I ask who you are? 

Sharon: I’m Sharon, Elbert’s great-aunt. Sorry for approaching you all of a sudden. 

Kate: Great-aunt? A pleasure to meet you! I apologise for not greeting you sooner. 

Sharon: Fufu… no need to be so formal. I’m glad to finally meet you.

Kate: Would you like to speak to Lord Elbert? He’s currently with the host… 

Sharon: No, it’s fine. I made use of my connections to enter this party, that boy doesn’t know I’m here.

Sharon: He rarely shows his face at social events on his birthday… I’m a little worried about him. 

Kate: Huh…? 

Sharon: Elbert’s father held birthday parties for him in his childhood. He only showed his face once.

Sharon: Although his mother was still alive back then, she would always stay in her room and never attended. 

Sharon: I heard that he collected beautiful things, so I gave him several frames of pressed flowers. 

Sharon: That boy looked overjoyed when he received them, however… he wore a pained look on his little face when he returned to the party. 

Sharon: After that happened… I finally understood. 

Sharon: There was not a single present that boy could accept as a celebration of his birth. 

Kate: … 

Sharon: After his mother’s passing, we were told not to give him any more birthday presents… and that was it.

Kate: … So that’s what happened. Um…

Kate: By any chance, did one of those framed pressed flowers include a blue poppy?

Sharon: Oh… you know about it?

Kate: Yes. It became a keepsake for Lord Elbert, myself, and… someone dear to us. So… 

Sharon: … I see. I’m glad it became something meaningful to him. 

Sharon: That boy’s facial expressions have become more pleasant than they used to be. I wonder if it’s because he now has someone like you by his side.

Sharon: I couldn't do anything for him because I live far away, so I’m not in the best position to say this, but…

Sharon: I wish you both happiness. 

After a complex conversation with the host, Elbert went to the balcony where Kate was waiting for him. 

Kate: Lord Elbert… have you finished your conversation?

Elbert: … Yeah.

(Did I… leave you at the party looking like this?) 

Even though her dress and accessories were personally chosen by me, I was momentarily stunned by how beautiful she looked standing at the balcony. 

Elbert: Sorry for leaving you alone. Did anyone bother you? Did you experience anything unpleasant?

Kate: I’m alright. Everyone was very kind. 

Kate: … It looks like someone has been going around telling everyone that I “belong to Lord Elbert” every day. 

Elbert: … That might've been me. … Or Al. 

Kate: Fufu. I’ve heard rumours about both of you.

Kate laughed and moved to stand closely next to me.

Kate: I met Great-aunt Sharon.

Elbert: ! … She came? That’s rare.

Elbert: She has always lived alone in a deserted lakeside mansion…  and was treated as an eccentric.

Elbert: But being around her makes it feel… a little easier to breathe.

Kate: I understand that feeling. 

Kate: … I heard from her that you’re not a fan of being celebrated. 

(Oh…)

It seemed that Kate had learned the reason why Crown was surprised in the morning at breakfast.

The day of my birth was the day my parents’ suffering began. 

I never felt that it deserved to be celebrated. 

And yet, I couldn't help but feel envious whenever I saw someone else's birthday being celebrated. 

(I wanted to be reborn so that I could feel happy from the bottom of my heart about being celebrated. But…)

Not wanting to dull Kate’s facial expression, I spoke.

Elbert: Kate, but now— 

Kate: You think that you’re genuinely happy… right?

Elbert: eh…

Elbert: How did you know? 

Kate: While waiting for you, I thought about Crown’s surprised looks this morning.

Kate: They were surprised because of your smile when I said “happy birthday”. 

Kate: For sure, it was a different facial expression than your usual one.

Kate: You smiled because you were genuinely happy to receive the birthday greeting. 

(... I’m no match for Kate, aren’t I.)

There wasn’t a trace of sorrow in her affectionate smile. 

She must've been hiding it, knowing how much I hated seeing her feel hurt. 

Elbert: Yeah… you’re right.

(It's because you allowed me to be reborn.) 

Elbert: Today, I think I feel genuinely happy about being celebrated. 

Kate: … That’s great. I’m glad to hear that, Lord Elbert. 

(Yeah, look at you.) 

(You smile like that, looking truly happy when I’m happy.) 

Her kindness and warmth made me want to tear up from how much I loved her. 

I pulled her into a tight hug, the warm body of my beloved fitting snugly in my arms. 

Elbert: I wonder if I can just take you away right now for the night. 

Kate: … Even though the party is still ongoing? 

Elbert: Yeah… I don’t want to let you out of my embrace anymore. 

Kate: Fufu. Still, it’d be hard to leave the party venue like this. 

Elbert: Not if… I do this.

Kate: Kyaa…! 

I lifted Kate in a princess carry and carried her back to the party venue from the balcony. 

Kate: Lord Elbert…? 

I looked around the venue and called out to a server I saw.

Elbert: Can you call me a carriage?

Server: Y-yes. Right away…! 

The server blushed and hurried off.

Amidst the buzzing of the guests surrounding us, the host approached with a surprised look.

(Oh, great. Saves me the trouble of searching for him.)

Elbert: Lord, thank you for today’s invitation. I apologise, but we shall take our leave now.

Host: Are you leaving already? … Is your partner perhaps feeling unwell? 

Host: I can arrange a private room for her to rest if you’d like…

Elbert: No… she’s not unwell. I’m doing this because I want to.

Kate: …っ

Kate frowned in embarrassment at my honest response.

The sight of her ears turning red was adorable. 

Host: I- I see. Please pardon my discourtesy. But it’s a pity… you went through the trouble of attending, after all.

Elbert: Sorry. I’ll compensate you another time. 

(Oh, right… I might as well tell him now, since this is a rare chance.)

Elbert: This is because it’s my birthday today.

Host: … Huh!?

Kate: Lord Elbert…

(It’s a special day you redefined for me.)

I dropped a gentle kiss on Kate’s lips to convey that to her.

Kate’s shoulders trembled slightly at the touch, but she accepted my feelings along with the kiss. 

Elbert: I want to spend my birthday with the person who means the world to me. 

Everyone present turned red like Kate.

The host apologised frantically for not knowing it was my birthday and escorted us to the carriage.

…

Elbert: It's a relief I didn't have to do much to convince them, although I don’t understand why everyone was blushing.

Kate: … That’s because you said such sweet words while doing something a prince would do.

Kate: That would… make anyone's heart race.

(Prince… sweet words… did I seem that way?) 

I thought I was just being my usual greedy self, but I let it slide.

Elbert: Does that mean it made your heart race too, Kate? 

Kate: … Yes, my heart was beating like crazy. Ah, but this doesn't mean you should do that whenever we go somewhere, okay?

Elbert: … I can’t?

Kate: You can't. … My heart won’t be able to take it. 

Elbert: Fufu.

As I held her on my lap and rested my cheek against her head, a warmth spread in my chest again… and then came the slight feeling of thirst. 

I want, I want. A desire started stirring in my heart.

Elbert: … I want to receive your present soon.

Kate: I’ll give it to you when we return to the castle. Bear with it a little bit more, okay? 

Elbert: I want you too after that.

Kate: … That’ll also have to wait till we return to the castle…

Elbert: Kate… I want a kiss right now.

Kate: … That’s fine, of course. 

Kate: Happy birthday, Lord Elbert.

I closed my eyes and received a celebratory kiss that was so blissful—, 

I found myself having the seemingly foolish thought of how I wished it would be my birthday again tomorrow. 

[azrakaban]

Theodore nott fluffy dating head canons please 🥺🥺🥺🥺

AGH YES YIPPEE I LOVE WRITING THESE I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS

Theodore Nott Headcanons <3

Let's get right into it with some basic Theo headcanons, and then some dating ones too!

- Deffo has a Bernese Mountain dog back at home tbh, his mum loved them and got one before she died, and he loves that dog because it's all he really has left of her presence in his home

- Besties with Mattheo since they were both really little

- His mum died when he was eight, in childbirth, when giving birth to his little sister.

- his family is the Slytherin equivalent of the Weasleys, but reversed. He has four older sisters, and two younger sisters.

- Forces Mattheo to help him babysit his sisters

- Lapses into Italian when he gets tired

- Deffo sleeptalks in Italian, and when you first started dating you probably got so confused 😭

- He's really irritating when teaching you Italian, he'll throw in a word into his sentence and then make you look it up in a dictionary

- For sure loves dancing, whether or not you're good, if you're alone and there's music, call yourself Ginger Rogers

- Big fan of hand holding, he likes the feeling of having you that close.

- Hilarious when drunk, drunk words sober thoughts fr. He'll insult Draco's bleach, but then look at you and be like "Amore mio! guarda Matteo, guarda com'è bella! Aspetta, cosa stai facendo? Smettila di guardare la mia ragazza!" (My love! Look Mattheo, look how beautiful she is! Wait, stop looking at my girl!)

- Definitely a cat person besides his Bernese, and would adopt a black cat ASAP

- Would totally be an animagus, probably a black cat or a wolf

- If wolf, he'd maybe let you ride on his back. Only if he was in a good mood though.

- His music taste: Classical, specifically Beethoven, chase Atlantic, Coldplay. Guilty pleasure is Ariana Grande.

- Love language? Teaching you Italian for sure. Although does give presents randomly if he feels like it, but not too often.

- Definitely ambidextrous, and will help you write your homework. He learns how to mimic your handwriting so that if you don't feel good, he can do your homework for you

- convinced he sleeps with so many blankets that trying to find him in that MESS of a bed is impossible 😭

- actually apologises to your teddies if they fall of your bed

- reads poetry to calm down and will write it about you (you'll never see it though)

- definitely the designated driver most of the time 😭

- he's got snacks stashed all over the castle incase you two get hungry but you'll never know where he's hiding them 😭

- he has a resting bitch face until you're in the room

- queen of accidental photo bombs and there is not a single cute picture of you two no matter how

- pookie CANNOT swim. Don't even get him to try 🤡

- he's an ambivert, so mainly introverted with people he doesn't know, but is actually the clown of the group (him and Mattheo)

- He can play cello and double bass, but only plays for you if you ask

- actually the biggest hopeless romantic, Mr Darcy type shit

- Insanely good singer, and will sing to you in Italian

- good at herbology, took it for OWLS and NEWTs and became friends with Neville through it, they partner every day

- his favourite colour is navy

- Will speak Italian to Mattheo, who can speak it too, just to be funny. Like he'll be glaring at Draco and saying to Mattheo:

"So you think firewhiskey is worse than Muggle tequila?"

"Uh yeah, why are we glaring at Draco?"

"I want him to think we're shit talking him. So do you eat crackers when you drink or not?"

"No, gross. Nutella pancakes."

"Sounds... surprisingly good."

- He cannot wink, so he'll pass you a note in class and try but it looks like he's got something in his eye because both his eyes start twitching 😭

- He thinks pick up lines are shit, and won't use them. He will however ask you out politely and take you on a date or a few before he asks you to be his partner.

Hope this is what you were looking for! Love and thanks for the request <3

[biteofcherry]

Grain of Truth - part nine

Soft!Dark Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Reader

summary: You’re content with your quiet, peaceful life, but it suddenly becomes dangrously intense when an alpha, Steve Rogers, forces himself into it. You never believed nor seeked out the old fairytales of true mates, but Steve will make you admit there’s a grain of truth in every fairytale.

warnings for this chapter: fluff and feels; general cuteness and teasing; also some filth; oral; mild choking; few spanks here and there; oh and plants win!

word count: 4.6k

Main Masterlist

Grain of Truth Full Masterlist

Grain of Truth previous parts:   

 | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight |

You woke to a mouthwatering scent that had your stomach growling eagerly and to the feeling of a warm cocoon encasing you. With a sleepy hum, you blinked your eyes open. There wasn’t a single detail in your surroundings that you recognized, yet no sense of panic crept up your skin.

A faint, familiar scent was wrapped around you and it settled you down - your Alpha’s smell lingering on the blanket you were tucked under, as well on the large t-shirt he put on you after shower. 

As you let your eyes wander around the space, you realized you were no longer in Steve’s bedroom, but in the living room downstairs. The tv was on, the volume turned so low you barely heard the commentators on screen. Steve’s hearing was better than yours, he probably could make it out. 

Stretching, you slowly rolled onto your back and looked up at the ceiling. Flecks of light danced across the creamy surface. You didn’t hear Steve’s steps, so it surprised you when he suddenly appeared in your line of vision, looking down at you as he leaned over the back of a sofa you were resting on.

His hair was already dry and his light skin showed no pinkness - neither from the shower, nor from the exhaustive activities prior. As if Steve wasn’t even affected by a few days marathon of animalistic fucking. 

Damn Alphas, you thought enviously. Not only was their stamina greater, they also seemed to have a much better recuperation speed. Steve looked like he could go for another twenty four hours round, while you wondered if you would ever regain feeling in your poor numb pussy. 

You were certain your legs would still shake, if you tried to stand up and move on your own. 

You’ve had some experience in heat sex, even if most of the time you preferred to be alone with your toys. Those few times you had a partner during heat were an untiring, bland ordeals compared to the complete annihilation by your Alpha. 

“Did you rest well?” Steve asked, bracing his hands on the backrest of the sofa.

“Ask me in a week, or two,” you groaned, rubbing your face with both hands. 

Your glare at Steve’s laugh didn’t wipe away his broad grin. You considered smacking him with a pillow, but you still remembered what he threatened you with the last time you threw one at him. 

You really didn’t think you’d survive, if he was to make his promise come true. 

“Hungry?” Steve picked up the blanket, when you started tugging it off your body, and folded it neatly. 

“Very!” You nodded eagerly, your empty stomach growling its agreement. 

While during the heat you didn’t care about the food, not even a little bit, now you were famished. And it seemed nothing else was more tempting than stuffing yourself with food. Especially when the smell wafting from the kitchen was so delicious, you were ready to crawl there if needed. 

But you didn’t have to. Steve picked you up before you attempted to pull yourself up into a sitting position. He swiftly lifted you up and over the back of the sofa, cradling you against his chest in a bridal style. 

Wrapping both arms around Steve’s neck, you played with the strands of hair at the back of his neck.

It was an affectionate caress; something you did purposely, not only as a mindless gesture. A week ago you’d say it wasn’t intentional, that your post-orgasmic haze made you unaware of what you were doing. 

Though it was somewhat instinctive to do it now, too, you were also aware of the intimacy of it and that you chose to continue. 

You felt the reassuring calm seep through the one-way bond; Steve’s own affection for you a solid thing. It was deep and intense, a wide flame that seemed impossible to put down with any means. Perhaps it was why you felt safe falling into it; knowing it would be grounding for you, since it lacked chaos and blinding need, which would scare you off with fickle outbursts and immature recklessness.

That too was something you used to fear. The all consuming, escalated feelings of something unstable and somewhat toxic - similar to the way teenagers dramatically fell in love. 

But Steve’s love for you, this deep bond he was willing to create between you, was a seasoned, mature certainty. It spoke of awaiting growth and fulfillment, which held their own passionate thrill to it. 

Somehow you knew that everything with Steve would be so much more intense. Love. Sex. Arguments. Punishment. They wouldn’t be unstable, though, since they weren’t driven by childish fantasies.

“You’re going to keep carrying me?” You asked, with an unmasked, elated chirp in your tone.

“Until your legs stop shaking every time you try to put your weight on them,” Steve pinched your butt.

“So for about a month longer,” you deadpanned and Steve laughed.

The sound of it - deep and booming, rumbling in his chest - made you smile. 

You pressed a soft kiss to his neck, felt the big Alpha shudder at the simple, affectionate gesture. 

You wondered briefly, if it was because he was so open with the bond now, or maybe Steve always had this vulnerability with you, but you refused to see it; too stubbornly adamant on viewing him only as the pushy, possessive bastard who wouldn’t give you a choice.

He was pushy and possessive (you doubted that ever changes), but there was more to him than flaws you previously saw as his only trait.

“Maybe I should just keep you in bed, then?” Steve teased, placing you on the kitchen counter beside the sink. “A docile Omega, always naked and ready for her Alpha to take her.”

“I always knew you had a streak of a caveman,” you scrunched up your nose and wiggled your ass back to sit more comfortably, leaning your back against the kitchen window’s frame. 

“I never denied that.” Steve winked at you, squeezing your thigh before he stepped back. 

You watched him move over to the stove. There was something exceptionally hot and satisfying in the sight of this big, dominating Alpha in his half-naked state, preparing a meal for you. 

And he didn’t act as if it was something remarkable for which he should be praised. 

However, you thought the way his back muscle worked when he chopped and stirred was worthy of praise. Whistling even. 

Your gaze roamed over the wide span of Steve’s broad shoulders, appreciating that he still hadn’t put a shirt on. Then your eyes cast downwards, along his tapered waist and firm ass clad in low-hung, gray sweatpants. 

You were too hungry and too exhausted to follow with images that your mind supplied, but it was satisfying to remind yourself you could turn them into reality in a few days. Any day that you wished. 

Averting your eyes before Steve noticed you ogled him, you leaned more comfortably back and turned your head to peek outside the window. You saw the span of juicy green grass, trimmed, but kept tall enough your foot would sink into its softness if you walked barefoot.

You noticed a big, wooden construction right by this wall. Unfinished, with half-done floor; It looked to be built as an extension to the house. 

“Are you building a terrace?” You asked, though the tall roof of the wooden frame seemed unusual even for a roofed patio. 

Steve’s gaze flicked up to you, then followed your line of vision.  

“It’s a sunroom,” he replied, attention returning to the bubbling sauce in the pan. 

“For your plants.”

You turned your head swiftly, staring at Steve with wide eyes. He made it sound so casual, so simple, as if it wasn’t something that needed a further explanation. But his words sank deep, warming your chest from the inside. 

“For my plants?” Your voice was barely above a whisper; the question spoken hesitantly. “You- you’re building a sunroom for my plants? For me?”

Affection tugged at your heart. It struck strings that reverberated through your body with warmth and gratitude, threatening to elicit tears. The mushy wave of appreciation wasn’t for the sunroom itself, but for the fact that Steve did something so thoughtful.

It wasn’t just a gift to shower you with and win your graces, but something personally designed for you, suited for what you cared about the most. 

“When you move in with me, someday-” Steve sent you a pointed look that meant he wouldn’t welcome any argument regarding the matter, “I expect your jungle will move with you. You need a place to keep them in.” 

For now you didn’t comment on his assumptions about your living accommodation, since the controlling Alpha at least didn’t announce he expects you to move in right away. Which, honestly, you’d fight, regardless of your newfound fondness of Steve’s company. 

You were too enamored with his gesture to focus on anything that wasn’t a lovely image of lush greenery in a sun filled, glass room. 

“That’s-” your throat constricted with emotion- “too much. You didn’t have to.”

Steve looked at you, frowning. He put down the wooden spoon and turned off the oven. You swallowed hard when he nudged your legs apart and stepped between them. Both of his hands rested on your thighs, their heavy warmth somehow soothing your fluttering heart.

“Too much?” He sounded incredulous. “What kind of douchebags were you dating that you consider this too much?”

“Hey! They were nice.” you protested, scrunching up your nose. 

Maybe none of your exes was the love of your life and perhaps in some cases your ways parted with resentment, but you prided yourself on choosing good guys. With flaws, sure, but who didn’t have them. 

And occasionally they gifted you with lovely treats, flowers included. Cut flowers, bound in pristine bouquets that smelled dizzyingly (and died within days). The intent behind them mattered, you told yourself. But somehow it was more of an expected gesture than something done with genuine thought of your preferences.

Steve’s gift was grand. Not because of its size, but the fact it catered directly to what you loved. He understood how much you adored your plants and that you’d want them (and maybe more) wherever you moved. 

“Nice.” Steve jeered. “Doesn’t seem the right word to describe someone you’re in a relationship with.” 

“Is bossy asshole Alpha the right description?” You glared at him, mostly annoyed that he was right. Nice wasn’t a word that should be the first one to come to mind when you think of someone you’re supposedly in love with.

“Sure.” Steve’s fingers spread wide over your thighs as he leaned forward, tip of his nose almost touching yours. “It matches spanked hard bratty Omega.”

“Is spanking your solution to everything?” You huffed, trying to scoot back in case Steve was considering really getting his hands on your butt; but he held you in place. 

“Interchangeably with thoroughly fucked,” he teased his fingertips beneath the hemline of the t-shirt you were wearing. 

“And well fed,” he added with a grin and pulled away. 

“Alpha’s meaning of life.” At your snort and eyeroll, Steve chuckled. 

“And what’s yours?” He asked, moving back to the stove.

You watched him taste the sauce once more, then take out bowls from a cabinet. A brief thought that domestic contentment with a pushy Alpha may be the meaning of life passed your mind, but you couldn’t force it out of your mouth. 

“Growing?” You shrugged, appreciatively eyeing the huge portions that Steve plated for both of you. “Myself. And growing plants. Maybe some tiny people in the future.”

That slipped your lips, without you realizing you’ve said it. Only a second later you tensed as it downed on you. Terrified that you blurted it out, while you still didn’t exactly come to terms with the true mating, you tucked your chin down and peered at Steve from beneath your eyelashes.

He didn’t even stop in his motions, accepting the answer without much fuss. 

A part of you expected an overly eager reaction of a stereotypical alpha male wanting to breed his partner right away and strip them of any rights, beside the one to have his kids. The other part feared he’d be scared of the prospect and backpedal. 

“Sounds good.” Steve smiled softly, reaching out his hand to squeeze your calf reassuringly. 

He didn’t dwell on it, giving you a subtle hint that he’s on board with your needs, but not pushing to explore such a serious topic right at this moment. 

Then he handed you a bowl of delicious smelling pasta and leaned against the counter right next to you, with his own bowl. You weren’t sure why you’re eating like this - you sitting on the counter and Steve leaning his hip against it - while there’s a dining table nearby, with quite comfortably looking chairs. But there was something simply domestic about it. No forced formality that may stir awkwardness, but continued closeness.

As you ate, your eyes kept shifting toward the window and the tall wood construction outside. You couldn’t help it, but start picturing how it will look with windows installed and filled with greenery. You’ve had a large collection of plants, but the space called out for more.

Steve’s sigh drew your attention back. You looked at him confused, a single noodle of pasta hanging from your puckered lips until you slurped it in. 

“Come,” he set his bowl aside and took away yours. 

“You’re gonna break your neck trying to stare at the unfinished sunroom and fantasizing about running wild with it. We can sit in the backyard, you’ll get a better view.”

He slid an arm under your thighs and then hoisted you up and over his shoulder. He laughed at your squeak of surprise and palmed your ass. Then carried you out into the backyard, where a small terrace was set beneath a partly overgrown pergola. 

Steve dumped you into a garden chair that gave you a direct view on the construction. You didn’t even glare at him, your happiness at seeing the whole magnificence of your future sunroom prevailing. 

When Steve brought your food, you ate almost mechanically, stuffing your cheeks full and staring at the bare wood as if willing it to become a finished product. 

Steve angled his chair, so he could drape your legs over his lap without ruining your cute sightseeing activity. 

A while later you put the empty bowls left on the table and sat in comfortable silence - your Alpha with his eyes closed, face tilted up into streaks of sunlight filtering through the grapevine, slowly caressing your calves; and you imagining yourself surrounded by plants in a heat filled room. 

It felt as if your body fell deeper into light-as-a-cloud bliss as you imagined shades of green in various sizes. Touching the leaves, dipping your fingers into the soil, it would soothe any strains of the day. 

Steve’s presence would, too.

A small smile curved your lips when you glanced his way and considered his reaction, if you asked him to carry water cans for you, or to sprinkle tops of tall plants which you couldn’t reach. 

You imagined he’d roll his eyes, say something teasing, but do it anyway. Somehow you had no doubt Steve would join you, if you asked him. While you often purposely kept your previous partners away from your plants, knowing they wouldn’t really want to do it with you. 

Being with Steve, thinking of building a relationship with him, filled you with surprising contentment. You had no doubt that it came from you, not only an echo of Steve’s emotions through the bond. 

Seeing how seriously he treated your supposed mating, without making it only about possessing you, but actually growing together; it slowly washed away your previous need to fight it with all your might. 

And when you stopped pushing against your own feelings regarding Steve, flutters of happiness bloomed. Hints of easy playfulness shyly peeked out, as well, sensing safety even if you’d push your Alpha too hard.

Biting your lower lip, you slowly moved your legs off of Steve’s lap. Which stirred him momentarily; his eyes opening and glancing your way. 

Before he had a chance to protest, you were climbing into his lap. Steve’s hands cupped your ass as you settled against him, his eyebrow arched in question when you touched his chest boldly out on your own volition.

“Thank you for the sunroom,” you traced his pectorals with your fingertips, allowing yourself amazement with his physique.

“And for all the suffering I will cause you when I make you help me with the plants,” your cheeky grin made Steve snort. 

But you saw it in his eyes - felt it through the bond, too - that he was proud and elated. 

Of the fact he made you happy, as well because you reached out for him on your own, following the pull you no longer resisted. 

And truly, it was hard resisting Steve. 

Especially when he was splayed beneath you, hard muscles and power thrumming beneath his skin. 

A jolt of hunger shot down your spine, similar in its intensity to the first signs of heat. But you were out of this madness, perhaps only faint remnants lingering and adding to your reaction. 

Most of it, however, was simply your natural response to the proximity of your Alpha. 

Your hand traveled down Steve’s abdomen, with your eyes you traced the path, aiming for the straining bulge growing in Steve’s sweatpants. 

Saliva pooled in your mouth when your fingertips dipped beneath the waistband of Steve’s sweats. His grip on your ass hardened, squeezing your still slightly burning flesh.

“You’re sore, sweetheart,” Steve reminded you, both melting and annoying you with his care for your wellbeing while you were getting hornier by the second. 

“I don’t care,” your huff of breath bordered on a whine.

It turned into a yelp when Steve slapped your ass. The smack also caused your hips to rock desperately against him, evoking his own hiss. 

“I care,” Steve growled, but he didn’t stop your hand from slipping further into his pants. 

“But I want you,” you looked at him, eyes pleading. 

As your fingers grasped Steve’s hardening cock, fingertips not even meeting around his girth, the memory of how he stretched you made you moan. Heat unfurled in your core, leaving a growing wet stain on Steve’s sweatpants where you rubbed yourself on his thigh. 

“Oh God, I need it, Steve,” it had to be the echo of the heat still pulsing faintly in you, because you didn’t think you ever sounded so desperate outside of it. 

No state of arousal made you crave a dick so bad. Never before Steve. 

“Please,” you slanted your lips against Steve’s mouth, whimpering between messy kisses you tried to rouse him with. “Please, I want your cock. At least in my mouth? Please? Please, fill my mouth and belly, Alpha.”

Another slap stung your ass, but your gasp was muffled by Steve’s demanding lips against your own. He tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth, then licked it lewdly. 

With heart-stopping (and hotly arousing) ease, Steve swiftly stood up and planted you on the table. The world spun as he maneuvered your body, so that you laid on your back with your head on the side where Steve stood. 

You tilted your head, gaze landing on the hardness bulging right above your eye level. Wetting your lips with your tongue, you stretched your arms above your head and gripped Steve’s hips. He let you tug his sweatpants down, while he yanked your t-shirt up, exposing your body to his hungry gaze. 

“Needy brat,” Steve growled when you dug your nails into his skin, urging him to come closer so you could taste his cock. 

He swatted your pussy, making you arch and close your thighs around his hand. 

“Open.” Steve’s demand was calm, but there was that firmness to it that annoyed you, yet turned your brain into mush. 

Despite knowing damn well he meant opening your legs, you parted your lips instead. Opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. 

And clenching your thighs tighter. 

Steve didn’t even huff. He yanked your legs apart with ease. Then landed a stinging slap to your inner thigh. Another one on your sensitive pussy, as well. 

But he stepped forward, letting you run your tongue on the underside of his cock. Using his other hand, he guided the reddened tip into your mouth. 

Heavy drag of it against your tongue, stretching your lips the more he pushed inside, made you shudder. Your nipples stiffened into hard peaks and more slick trickled. 

You began understanding why Steve turned so aggressively hungry when he ate you out, if tasting you was anything similar to how his cock tasted for you. 

Steve’s fingers rubbing circles on your clit didn’t help, rushing you swiftly into the first orgasm. 

You moaned around his length, the sound’s vibration causing Steve’s dick to twitch. 

Drops of potent precum slipped down your throat, igniting a burning need in your core. 

Your grip on Steve’s hips tightened, fingers digging into his buttocks as you angled your head backwards to try swallowing more of him. 

Rationally you knew Steve’s cock is too big to take him whole, but your brain switched to a more primal mode that craved to choke on it. 

You vividly remembered how you sucked him in the botanical garden, how you couldn’t swallow everything and pitifully teared up as it became too much. Still, you wanted to do it. To please your Alpha, but also because of your own frenzied need. 

Rocking his hips steadily, Steve controlled the depth of his thrusts. His satisfied purr at your eagerness only spurred you on. 

Hollowing your cheeks, you tried to suck and slurp and moan as much as you could, to entice him to take it deeper. As scary the realization was, but you wanted your Alpha to push you further. 

For a while Steve seemed to be indifferent to your attempts at breaking his self-restraint, until you arched your back with a muffled whine, sticking your chest upwards, and tipped your head at an angle that caused his dick to poke the back of your throat.

Steve stilled for a moment. 

He looked down at his cock stretching your lips wide, drool starting to seep out and mess up your pretty face. His gaze slid over your exposed body: round breasts heaving in offering, nipples begging to be pinched; belly that was already full of his cum from previous days; legs bent at the knees and spread apart; and his hand atop your wet cunt. 

Curling fingers of his left hand around your neck, he bent his knees slightly then inched his cock deeper into your throat. 

You tensed, your eyes watering with tears as you fought the gag reflex. 

Then Steve’s right hand moved; thick digits slipping between your folds and into your opening. He pushed in two at once and your throat constricted on a cry, causing you to really choke on Steve’s dick. 

“That’s it,” Steve rasped, withdrawing both his fingers and his cock. 

“That’s what you wanted, huh?” He pushed back in, delighting in your garbled moan as you swallowed him. “Good Omega, wanting to take her Alpha’s cock deep into her tight throat, even though you know you couldn’t do it before.” 

“Wanted me to own it, too?” Steve kept a steady pace. “Just like you needed me to own your sweet pussy in a proper way, locking you on my knot, so your body recognized it can’t escape me.” 

You would glare at Steve at the whole owning insinuation, if he wasn’t partly right. 

Your body thrummed because he took it so well, so thoroughly. Because he owned it.

Perhaps it was also why you loved having him in your throat, despite gagging on it and tearing up - because he now owned it, but also because it meant you owned his cock, too. 

You could take him, all of him. So all of him belonged to you. 

“Such a good girl for me, sweet brat” Steve praised, withdrawing enough that you could take a ragged breath. 

Then he was thrusting in again. He drove his cock so deep his sack rested heavy against your nose. The lewd aspect of it shook you, more slick gushing out. Good that it did, because just as Steve choked you on his dick, he forced three of his fingers into your pussy; curling them to hit right against that spot that made you see stars.

And he stayed like that.

Keeping his cock in your throat, almost constricting all of your airways, while he rapidly pumped his fingers into you.

Ending supply of air and the onslaught on your clenching pussy overwhelmed you. You kicked your legs, heels tapping against the edge of the table. Your hands helplessly smacked against Steve’s hips, though you weren’t sure if it was to push him away, or to urge him more as you felt a maddening climax approaching.

“Shh, you can take it, sweetheart,” Steve cooed, “Come on, I want you to cum. Cum for your Alpha.” 

It wasn’t a command, yet that and a gentle swipe of his thumb over your clit were enough to tip you over the edge.

Your whole body seized as you leaked around Steve’s fingers. A long scream burned in your lungs, coming out only as a gurgled vibration around the big cock locked in your throat.

Coming back from that high seemed to take longer than ever before. Steve was adamant on drawing out every second of it, keeping you shaking and choking. Your vision was darkening around the edges when Steve finally eased back. 

He slipped out of your mouth too, leaving you coughing and gasping for breath. 

Licking his fingers clean, Steve gripped his throbbing cock with his other hand.

“You still want to swallow it, Omega?” His voice was husky and low as he gazed down at you. 

At your eager nod, he rolled you onto your belly. Your legs hung down over the edge of the table, wetness trickling down your thighs. 

“It’ll be easier for you to swallow in this position,” Steve explained, tilting your chin up with his forefinger. 

He tapped his cock against your wet cheek, gathering a mix of your tears and drool, then guided it between your parted lips. Keeping his fingers wrapped tightly around the base, Steve fed you enough of his dick that you didn’t choke this time. 

Placing his free hand on the back of your head, he fucked your mouth. 

As you looked up at him, your eyes locked with his dark, hungry gaze. It sent a jolt to the very tips of your fingers. 

You wrapped your fingers around Steve’s where he was gripping his cock, cupping his balls with your other hand. Steve’s loud groan of pleasure made you preen. 

As did the soft moans and purrs he made when you hollowed your cheeks and drank every last drop of his thick, warm cum. 

Steve’s fingers caressed your head and cheeks as his cock rested on our tongue, twitching out last spurts. 

In this blissful moment, when you were lax and satisfied and you felt your Alpha so pleased with you, you thought for a second that you understood fictional Omega heroines who seemed to live to please their Alphas.

It brought a sense of fulfillment. 

Or maybe it was everything that Steve did for you, all the care and thoughtfulness and protection, that made it worthy to service him with your compliant body. 

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞

You knew with absolute certainty that you meant a lot to both Bucky and Steve — to them as themselves, and to their marriage, but you did not truly understand the depth of their devotion to you, not until a frosty, chilled morning where they revealed just how much they truly adored you.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ༄ Fireman!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader x Fireman!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ༄ 1.4k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ༄ Fluff, spicy humour, implied spice

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ༄ Being spoiled by these two would be a dream come true. 😭

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ༄ Only by RY X

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ༄ @stuckybingo ჻჻჻ 𝗚𝟮 — Firefighter AU ჻჻჻ 𝗝𝗔𝗡𝗨𝗔𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗟𝗬 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡 — Garnet — Masterlist ༄ @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Wafts from Bucky and Steve’s coffees woke you slowly — earthy tones from Steve’s black brew to the sweetness of Bucky’s sugar overladen cup intermingled, dancing over your palette to entice you into the kitchen. 

That, however, didn’t mean you would hurry to leave the cocoon of blankets you were wrapped in. Not even when you heard quiet footsteps down the hall, or when the bedroom door creaked open to admit one of the two culprits. 

Their footsteps neared the edge of the bed, but you couldn’t discern just who it was, until, “Cherry, doll,” Steve cooed. “Time to get up, darlin’, Buck’s gettin’ restless. Took all a’me to keep him on the damned couch so he wouldn’t barrel in here and just pick you up—blankets an’ all.”

“No,” you grumbled, furrowing deeper into said blankets. “Not gettin’ up, Stevie.”

The mattress dipped as he sat down on the edge, right next to your hip. His warm hand rubbed up and down your back, and with a chuckle, he said, “I think you are, honey—we have a present for you.”

You blinked and peered over the mound of blankets to look into Steve’s bright eyes. “Present?”

“Present,” he repeated. The fabric of the covers rustled under his palm, and he cupped your ass over the plush material. “Get that cute butt up and you can see.”

“Ugh.”

The quiet atmosphere of the house was the first thing you noticed — not even a peep from Cap or Cleo, or even the hushed whispers of an excited Bucky to fill the air while you padded down the hallway. 

A steaming mug of your favourite, warm drink was waiting for you on the kitchen counter, and you picked it up with a grateful hum; the warmth of the colourful mug made your palms prickle from the heat while your fingers regained feeling. 

Bucky’s voice suddenly called from the living room, “Is that our Cherry?”

“Yeah,” you said around a yawn, and you made your way over to the pair of them who were relaxed on the couch. “Morning, boys.”

Steve smiled; Bucky positively beamed with enthusiasm, like you were the best sight he could have witnessed that chilled, festive morning. “Hey, pretty girl,” he said, confirming your thoughts and gesturing you over. “C’mere—wanna hold our girl.”

You carefully placed your drink down onto the coffee table and sat on Bucky’s lap. As soon as the back of your thighs touched the top of his, his hands shot straight to your waist and hip, guiding you to sit comfortably. The quietness of his hushed voice while he hummed along to the Christmas carol playing from the movie on the TV soothed you. 

“Hi,” you mumbled, curling into his chest. The faded fabric of his red henley was soft under your palm as you rested your hand over his heart. A soft kiss was placed on your forehead. The three of you settled into a comfortable silence. 

A low huff came from the direction of the room’s heater. You looked over and found Cap and Cleo cuddled under the endless soft, fluffy blankets that lined their bed. 

“How did you sleep, baby?” Bucky asked quietly. Under your hand, his chest rumbled from his gravelly voice.  

“Good—could still fall asleep now,” you replied, and a yawn snuck up on you. “But someone insisted I get out of bed this morning.”

“It’ll be worth it,” Steve said with a light laugh. 

Bucky’s hand squeezed your waist and his other arm moved to rest higher up, over your thighs. “It is, Cherry—don’t go givin’ Stevie a hard time.”

“Mm, I’ll be the judge of that,” you huffed. “Now shush, you’re warm and ‘m sleepy.” 

“Don’t go to sleep again,” Bucky warned, shaking you a little. “Stevie,” he said, and you felt his jaw move from the top of your head — he must have looked toward his husband. “Let’s do it, yeah? That way Cherry can get what she wants.”

“Yes,” you agreed, closing your eyes for effect. “What I want is to sleep against the warm, strong chest of my–”

“Ah, ah,” Steve interrupted, raising a brow at you, as though he knew you were going to say something that would set Bucky off — the bastard always knew, you cursed. “Alright,” he continued, twisting in his seat to reach for something that rested on the bottom shelf of the coffee table, and you watched keenly. “Now this is an early Christmas present—since we agreed neither of us could keep our mouths shut about it.”

A simple, small, black box rested in his offered palm. It was nondescript and plain; no way to decipher what may lie inside or where it came from. 

With only an ounce of hesitation, you leaned out of Bucky’s grip and took the offered mysterious present. It had little weight to it, but that truly meant nothing when it came to their cunning, crafty ideas — the possibilities were endless–

“You wanna open it up to see what it is,” Bucky said, his tone light and amused, “or are you gona keep bitin’ your lip and keep me thinkin’ of what I could do to make them even more–”

“For fuck’s sake,” Steve cut in, holding a finger up in reminisce of a scolding parent. “This is a soft, gentle moment—don’t ruin it by bein’ a horndog.”

“Whatever,” Bucky grumbled. Not one to be dissuaded, his face inched closer to your ear, and you giggled sweetly when his lips brushed against the sensitive skin behind and below your ear. “Don’t listen to him, kitten.”

“Enough!”

All three of you burst into laughter, and it was only when Cleo ventured from her bed to investigate the interesting package you held in your lap, did the three of you settle into occasional snorts of mirth. “Hey, baby girl,” you whispered, offering the puppy your hand to sniff, and scratch between her ears. “What d’you say? Should I open it?”

She yipped and wagged her tail — a universal sign of ‘yes’. 

“Okay, here we go.” The lid of the box slid from the base smoothly to reveal red tissue paper. Tones of umber, ruby red, and fire beneath your fingertips. “You boys spend big, did you?”

“Jus’ open it, Cherry,” Bucky insisted, a boyish grin on his lips. If you were not in his lap and he had room to move, you would have sworn that he would vibrate in place from sheer excitement. “C’mon—this is worse than watchin’ Clint try to cook at the station.”

“Alright, alright,” you soothed him, unable to help the pull of a wide smile. “But I’m telling him you said that.”

“Don’t care, jus’ open it.”

you sighed exasperatedly. “Fine.”  

The tissue paper came away with a quiet crinkle, and what lay beneath it made you gasp so harshly that it caught in your throat, making you cough. 

A thin, twinkling bracelet was nestled into the white, velvet padding. Red jewels and flashes of white diamonds glinted in the low light of the living room, and you could not for the life of you speak up, or vocalise behind small gasps and whimpers. 

Its beauty was unmatched in anything you had seen before. A larger red stone was set on the domed shell of a firefighter’s helmet, and along the brimmed edge around the helmet was inscribed a single word — Cherry. 

“Oh, my,” you managed, a barely audible exclamation that seemed to piteously show your shock and awe. 

The love and affection in both Bucky and Steve’s stares made your eyes well with tears, and Bucky spoke first. “They’re garnets—the gemstone of fire. We found this shop that made things with all kinds, and– Well, we had to get our Cherry somethin’ of us.”

“You’re our fire, our passion, Cherry,” Steve said quietly. “You’ve given us everythin’, all of what we have now is thanks to you.”

“Oh, hell,” you gasped wetly, choking on a sob. “Boys–” There was no way to speak before the torrential flood took over, and you mouthed wordlessly while clutching the box. 

Bucky pulled you impossibly closer, and Steve shuffled down the couch to sit so close he may as well have been in Bucky’s lap, as well — he lifted your legs and settled, then placed them over his before he leaned in close. 

“Here,” Steve said, gently grabbing the box from your hand. His fingertips were soft over the delicate skin of your wrist, and the bracelet rested comfortably in place. “There you go, honey.” 

You held them close after that, unwilling and unable to let either of them go — not even when you had a part of them already in your heart.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[eccentricallygothic]

Psycho Husband!Steve Rogers who is a crazed coercive bastard.

Warning(s): Noncon, misogyny/sexism, depraved housewife kink, head shaving/hair cutting, he's a mental mf who thinks he is only doing what's best for you; cruel punishments are care and better sense according to him, age gap, fear kink, infantilization, humiliation, size kink. MDNI. 

. . .

You meekly sit atop your husband, Steve Rogers' lap as he feeds himself and you the dinner you meticulously prepared for him as he cares greatly for detail and perfection. 

The older man hums with each bite, one large paw caressing your back from over the thin -nearly sheer- material of one of the many dresses that make up the entirety of your wardrobe. 

“Absolutely delicious, baby, good job” he has been praising you with each bite and so you cannot help but smile at the compliments, your smaller body resting against his as you gently comb his hair with your fingers.

This is good.

Him being pleased is good.

“Thank you, my heart” you kiss his cheek that he had shaved just this morning when you were on your knees getting rid of his morning wood. He usually does that at night but you chose to wear a certain dress yesterday that caused for you to remain trapped in bed from the moment he got home till the both of you woke up tangled and sticky.

“See?” Now his fingers silkily glide up the length of your spine, past its dents that appear on your nape and towards your scalp that holds no barriers between your skins. “Wasn't I right?” Steve's fingertips flex all over your shiny head that he keeps empty from any hurdle between yourself and him. “Didn't it make things all better for us, hm?” Your tongue grows heavy and you feel it beginning to swell.

But you must not speak your mind.

For you are not allowed to have one.

“Yes, hubby, you were” you feel him stroke the bald crown of your head and the feeling of his coarse skin rubbing your soft and moisturized one sends shivers down your spine. 

His dark but relaxed blue eyes watch you, outwardly friendly but secretly inspecting you closely for the tiniest slip up. “Just too stupid to see it back then, weren't you?”

You nod nervously, offering him a smile as you avert your gaze from his, choosing to awkwardly play with his dress shirt instead. “Yes, hubby, I was.” Before you look up momentarily. He hates it when you don't look at him while speaking. “Thank you for teaching me better.” 

“And what did I teach you?” You bite your tongue, his words scalding your ears. 

Of course, he wants you to say it.

It is a routine that he likes to do every night. 

“That you are always right because you know better.” You resist the urge to cringe from how he suddenly gives you a burst of praise head rubs. 

It is a trap, meant to set you off.

He knows you don't like his hand rubbing your bald head like you're some kind of an animal and he still does it.

You've made the mistake of fighting back one too many times in the past.

But now you know it never fares well for you.

So better to just obey.

“Yeah?” His eyes begin to dance all over your form in that lewd fashion of theirs. “And how did I teach you that?” This is nothing new, and yet your heart drops.

“You taught me by…” Your face becomes hot from the embarrassment and humiliation. “B- By…” Fuck.

Even after all this time, it's no easier to do it. 

“By?” You can feel his sick arousal poke into the back of your thigh. He shifts to readjust himself. “Know what, honey?” He actually has the gall to sound friendly like he's doing you a favor out of the goodness of his heart. “I'll help your little mind out by giving you a hint.” You cannot hold his gaze anymore. So you drop your eyes and train them on his collars as you whimper into his cheek from how he hugs you closer with the arm he has draped around you. He loves proximity. “It had something to do with a machine and a cute head” his long fingers caress your scalp in circular motions.

Your heart is erratic against his chest. “H–” the whimper you let out is shaky and pathetic. Your expression falters into one of pain but you recover just as fast. At least on the outside. “T- Taught me by shaving my head.”

Steve's smirk is one of pride. “Oh? And what setting did I shave it on? Did I leave anything behind or did you become a complete cueball?” 

Tears sting your eyes from the sensitivity and helplessness as you feel your throat tighten even more. “N- No, hubby. Nothing was left. You shaved it all off…” Closing your eyes momentarily is the only way you can let out your next words. “Until I was a cueball.”

“And why was that, huh, baby?” Now he speaks to you like you're a child. 

He does that when he is horny. 

The realization makes your stomach twist.

“B- Because you warned me many times but—” your voice breaks and you softly sob into his cheek all of a sudden because the memories overwhelm you. “I didn't l- listen and my hair kept getting in the food I would prepare for you.” He somberly cooes and lowers your head forwards in a submissive position to caress the links of your spine.

“Oh, honey. Is that what happened?” Though Steve rests his cheek atop your bald head that he keeps shiny with scented oils and feigns sadness his bulge is too stiff against your tender skin for his little act to hold any weight. 

“Yes, hubby.” Your tears fall on your lap. 

“And how did it happen, huh, darling?” He loves the helplessness of your situation. That has got to be it. “Can you tell me?”

You nod and swallow the bile in your throat. Denial is not an option. “The scary razor went all over my head, hubby” you make yourself sound like a baby because that's what he likes. “Like buzz buzz buzz~” you try to mimic the sound and gesture as you run a pretend trimmer over your naked scalp. 

“Aw, it was scary for your little baby self, was it?” You timidly nod, pouting a little. “That's because you're so small and easily scared, aren't you?” He presses kisses all over your head and pinches your cheek. 

“Yes, hubby.” 

“Aw, my poor girl” he cups your face and lets his thumb trace the shape of your mouth. “I get it, you’re just a baby” he cannot but kiss you deeply before speaking again. 

“But it was necessary, wasn't it? And it worked” it is typical of him to seek validation for his unhinged actions from you, probably helps him sleep easier and pumps his pompousness further. “No more hair in the food.” He smiles and forces you to look at him by tipping your head back.

“No more hair in the food.” You echo him like the hollow doll he has made of you.

“Awww” he chuckles at the dejection in your voice. “Cheer up, silly. You look just as perfect as the first moment I laid my eyes on you” his lips repeatedly peck yours for a few moments. Then he continues. “I am the only one whose opinion matters for you and I think you're the most gorgeous thing alive” he scoops you up in his arms before standing up and you give him a smile like you're supposed to. He leans in to capture it in his own. “The cueball only makes you sexier and more nude for me. So it's a win all around” you whimper into the words he utters against your mouth. “C'mon, hubby will make you feel all better.” He whispers before carrying you to the bedroom. It is impossible not to be aware of your devastation and that is why he offers compensation the way he does. “Yeah?”

All you can do is nod defeatedly.

. . .

If you made it down here, hi you're cool. 

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Lena Horne (Cabin in the Sky, Stormy Weather)— Incredibly talented biracial actress, singer, dancer, and activist (she did so much work towards integrating audiences). Because of the racism of the era, she rarely got to be the lead actress but filmmakers loved her so much that they would often create stand alone segments within a film to highlight her beautiful singing, knowing that these segments would ultimately be cut from the film by censors in areas that forbid films with Black performers. Also, she's just so wonderful in Cabin in the Sky as a gold-digger villain who is not the least bit subtle about her intentions. I would highly recommend checking out her work.

Ginger Rogers (Swing Time, Top Hat)—Look I’ll level with you, I’ve never seen her in a musical and I know that she’s an amazing dancer and she’ll be even hotter when I finally watch Top Hat but I’m not submitting her as a dancer I’m submitting her as an ACTRESS. Her comic timing is impeccable!!!!! She’s full to bursting with life and in every role she seems to be having FUN, you can practically feel the twinkle in her eye. With her natural warmth it’s like she’s letting you in on the joke, y’all get to have this fun together! Making me laugh is hot!!! [If you'd like to see Ginger dance, videos below the cut]

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Lena Horne:

64.media.tumblr.com

Black American powerhouse singer and actor who faced all the usual bullshit that any BIPOC faced in vintage Hollywood and achieved legendary status anyway. Also a Civil Rights movement icon.

She was a gem

She was so beautiful and those dimples are amazing! Truly depressing how badly Hollywood treated her because she was black. I would love to have seen what she really could have been if they didn’t cast her in so many yikes roles. She’s got gorgeous eyes and that body! Her joyful smile makes happiness sexy!

Civil rights actress, singer, dancer, actress, she's got the whole package

Lena Horne was a wonderful singer and actress who largely starred in black cast musicals. While she had a lot of main stream success, she ultimately lost the lead role in showboat (a role she had played on the stage) to a white actress due to hollywood's prejudices. She was also blacklisted during the HUAC hearings, but she still managed to be hot be hot as fuck and have a career spanning decades, working with more well-known stars like Judy Garland in musicals, and working on stage and releasing albums when her hollywood career began to suffer.

Miss Horne became famous during a period of time when Hollywood had very few meaningful roles for people of color. Although she is more so known as a performer, she starred in two successful all black productions (Cabin in the Sky & Stormy Weather). If that wasn't enough, she also guest starred on the Muppets (Season 1, Episode 11)

Ginger Rogers propaganda:

She needs no introduction! An undeniable powerhouse on the dancefloor, and no less talented an actress. I once watched a compilation of cinema's greatest dance scenes and one of her and Fred Astaire's dances was featured, and one of the talking heads said he pitied her for 'having to keep up with him' - or something to that effect. Bullshit, I cry. Ginger Rogers was his absolute equal, and underplaying her incredible skill is downright criminal. I want the 'Cheek to Cheek' sequence from Top Hat to be permanently burned into my memory.

"Backwards in high heels", as the saying goes (though the pedant in me must point out that she in fact spent her fair share of time leading or dancing side-by-side). One of the earliest twinkle-toed ladies of the silver screen, and in terms of acting/persona, her balance of wide-eyed cuteness and movie-star glamour has never quite been replicated.

we all know her beloved string of musicals with fred but ginger also has an extensive and varied non-fred filmography that she's great in! a few ginger moments that are important 2 me personally ginger singing “we’re in the money” in gold diggers of 1933, complete with a verse in pig latin bc this whole movie is kinda mocking the concept of anyone actually being in the money in 1933; ginger and una merkel singing a verse of “shuffle off to buffalo” in 42nd street, providing some statler & waldorf-esque commentary on newlyweds from the upper berth of a railway car (interesting that belly was apparently a risque word in 1933 - maybe its bc the lyric is innuendo-ing about out of wedlock pregnancies - and that panties was a term for men’s underthings!); a favorite fred & ginger number

Ginger Rogers could do everything! She could sing, dance and act. She was hilarious in comedies, moving in dramatic roles (she won an Oscar for Kitty Foyle in 1940) and absolutely gorgeous!

Listen, no shade to Fred Astaire at all, but she both kept up with him step for step and then later went on to WIN AN OSCAR FOR ACTING. (which he did not.) truly a double threat!!!

One of the best dancers in Hollywood! Her work with Fred Astaire is just incredible.

ONE LINE: "Everything Fred did, Ginger did backwards and in heels" AND THEYRE RIGHT! Rogers was a total dance badass, and a lot of movie buffs know the story, but the Never Gonna Dance number from Swing Time took almost 50 takes, and allegedly by the end of filming it her white shoes had been stained pink because her feet were bleeding. As a note, she looks crazy gorgeous in this number. Watching these two dance is insane. They match up to each other in a way my mom describes as "divine" and she's right. DANCE NUMBERS!

Let's Call The Whole Thing Off (Shall We Dance, 1937, dancing starts at 3:14, they're in ROLLERSKATES)

(Ginger Rogers is the hottest woman ever to live in this number. seeing this as a teenager altered my brain chemistry)

(also watch her feet and how she moves opposite Astaire in this one. We all know our boy Freddie had that precision demon but jesus christ Miss Rogers, let a girl live!)

Pick Yourself Up, Swing Time 1936 (Everyone's seen this one but by god you are going to see it AGAIN!)

Shall We Dance, 1937 (duet begins at 2:34)

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, Roberta 1935 (There's just something about Ginger Rogers in a slick black dress man)

The Continental, The Gay Divorcee 1934

God she's MAGIC in this one.

Gay Divorcee's Ending Montage 1934

The infamous table and chairs spin happens at about 0:49. Pay CLOSE attention to her in this bc it looks like witchcraft and I feel lightheaded whenever I watch this movie bc shes THAT awesome.

She is a miracle to watch. Sorry for the sheer amount of clips. My entire family is like madly in love with Ginger Rogers.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 9

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Roger: A collar of course. You’ve now been promoted from dogsbody to pet. Congrats.

Kate: Thank you! This is a cute collar…Hm, collar? Wait, didn’t I tell you to stop treating me like a dog?

(Geez, it’s such a lovely choker. A collar…)

When I glared at him and pouted, he just stared back with a pleased smile.

(...Roger reminds me of me of an innocent boy when he smile)

His usually tense, thick brows were relaxed, and his parted lips revealed his canines.

Why does seeing him smile make me feel happy too?

(...Also)

Since becoming Roger’s exclusive Fairytale Keeper, I haven’t been feeling anxious or confused. 

(Even if he’s teases me, I have someone with me, watching my growth)

(It makes it all worth it, and motivates me to work harder)

 (Though…I think Roger’s got me dancing in the palm of his hand)

Regardless, I’m happy with the changes I’ve been going through during my time with Roger.

(No doubt Roger’s getting to know me better with the time we spend together)

(It’s like exposing your research subject)

Me on the other hand—

(The more time I spend with Roger, the more mysterious he’s become)

(That’s why…I want to know more about him)

Kate: Roger, um…Can I get one more reward?

Roger: Oh, that’s rare coming from someone who tends to be reserved. Go ahead and say it.

Kate: The more time we spend together, the more I wonder why you chose to be with Crown. And then I start to wonder what you’re even researching at this point. That’s why, I want to know the reason why…

Roger: Are you asking as my exclusive Fairytale Keeper, or for your own personal interest?

Amber eyes expose my heart.

Kate: …Probably both.

As Fairytale Keeper, I record his “sins” as a Cursed One.

As for myself, personally— 

I wanted to know what made my chest throb sometimes.

I definitely had an interest in Roger.

But I couldn’t say what kind of interest.

Kate: Still, I don’t want to overstep any boundaries, like a past you don’t want to talk about. If you don’t want to, then we can forget…

Roger: Pfft, haha. You really are a sincere one. Sure, I got nothing to hide. Summarizing it would be a pain, so hope you don’t mind a long story.

I don’t mind +4 +4

You’re going to tell me?

We have a long trip back.

Kate: I don’t mind. Please tell me about you, Roger.

Roger: In that case, let me tell you a story for our ride back to London.

With that, his long tale began.

—Unlike the train that’s moving us forward, Roger’s story takes us back into the past.

Roger: My old man’s a doctor, you’ve met him before. So for as long as I could remember, going to his clinic’s been part of my daily routine. I’m the eldest of 5 brothers and sisters. That’s probably why my dad relied on me a lot. Before I knew it, I wanted to be a doctor.

(In the beginning, I did get the impression that Roger was like an older brother…)

Kate: So you’re the eldest sibling. No wonder you’re so good at looking after others… What were you like as a kid?

Roger: Haven’t really changed. I was a brat with a thirst for knowledge that’d steal my old man’s medical books and charts. Maybe it’s because he also did as he pleased, but he was a pretty tolerant guy. Most of the time, he’d laugh it off. However, I remember getting a real tongue lashing when I tried to read a certain piece of research without asking.

Kate: And that piece of research was…

Roger: “About Cursed Ones”.

Cursed Ones—A term I hadn’t even heard of until a few weeks ago, but am now familiar with.

Had I not stumbled upon them that night—I would never have known.

(Roger learned about it from his father’s clinic…)

Kate: But only a few people know that Cursed Ones exist, right?

That information is regulated, and both the existence of them and Crown is kept from the public.

(I became a Fairytale Keeper because I knew…)

Roger: My old man’s “a part” of that world. Well, he probably “noticed” while examining a patient.

Kate: …I see. Doctors do examine a variety of people. When your father scolded you, it was because it was information that shouldn’t be known to the public. He tried to keep it a secret from you.

Roger: Yeah. A kid’s curiosity’s dreadful. So I went and read everything I could about Cursed Ones without my old man knowing. Should’ve locked that all up in a safe. He’s disorganized.

Kate: …That’s how you had free access to medical books and charts. I mean, hehe, you’ve been the same since you were a kid.

Roger: I guess. Now onto the main part of the story. When I was nearly done reading through all the research on Cursed Ones. It got to the point where I wanted to meet the author of a document, “Alexander Taylor”. In my search, I found that he was formerly a doctor at Gracefield Royal Hospital. Turns out he was my old man’s coworker.

Kate: When you say formerly, do you mean he left the hospital?

Roger: Yeah. Not sure why.

Kate: Is that how you found him?

Roger: Found him sooner than I thought. When he left the Royal Hospital, my old man rented the Barel family conservatory in the outskirts out to him. I found out he was doing some research by himself there.

“Alexander Taylor” left the Royal Hospital to continue his own research on Cursed Ones.

The more I heard about him, the more my imagination grew.

Kate: Then you…

Roger: Yeah, of course I went to see him. It was late at night, after my old man went to bed. I snuck out by myself.

~~ Flashback ~~

—The conservatory was empty and filled with silence.

Except for a young man in a white lab coat named Alexander Taylor, who was researching Cursed Ones all alone.

Roger: My name is Roger Barel. I’m the eldest child of the Barel family. I’m interested in your research, so let’s be friends.

Alec: …Yeah, go home okay?

Roger: Ah, haha…so that’s how it is. Well I didn’t think this would be easy, but it’s worth the challenge.

Alec: …You’re an annoying kid.

Every time I visited him, he’d turn me away.

However, when Alec realized I knew about Cursed Ones, he gave up and took me in.

Alec: You’re so persistent…

Roger: Yeah, I’m the kind of guy that’ll do whatever it takes to get what he wants.

Alec: *sigh* I know. I give up. You can visit me here as long as you promise me one thing.

Roger: Yeah, I will! So from today on, we’re friends!

Being friends with him made me happier than I thought.

I grabbed Alec’s hand and swung it around.

That was the first time I saw him smile.

Alec: Heh, okay. We’re friends now. Nice to meet you little doctor.

~~ End Flashback ~~

Roger: After that, I started spending a lot of time with Alec at the conservatory. He was my first friend.

There was affection in his voice as he muttered nostalgically. 

Roger: Even though I was a kid, I knew Alec was a very brilliant man. That’s why I couldn’t understand why he left the Royal Hospital. I was skeptical that he was just doing research on Cursed Ones, hidden away in a conservatory.

~~ Flashback ~~

There was a time when I asked him— 

Roger: Hey, Alec. Why are you researching Cursed Ones in a place like this? They’re born all around the world, but hard to come by. Wouldn’t it have been better to do something like establish a treatment center for cancer since it’s incurable? Then the world would know just how talented you are!

Alec: Perhaps. But I’m willing to throw my position, reputation, and money away for this research.

As he said that, he looked off into the distance with a sad look.

Alec: Someone might eventually find a cure for cancer…but I’m certain no one would find one for curses. The voices of the minority tend to get drowned out. That’s why I have to listen carefully.

Roger: Hmm. You’re great for working so hard for others.

Alec: I’m not that good of a person, Roger. I just don’t want my soul to rot away.

~~ End Flashback ~~

Roger: Whenever I went to see Alec, it was always at an appointed time. He didn’t let me come by at any other time. There was a day when I went to see him at the appointed time…But no matter how long I wanted, he never came back. …So I just kept waiting.

Roger’s lips drew tight as if to swallow back his hoarse voice.

Kate: …Something happened.

Roger: Yeah. Alec burst into the conservatory with police after him.

~~ Flashback ~~

Suddenly, the door to the conservatory was thrown open.

Alec: Roger…Why. I thought you went home.

Roger: …Alec, what’s with the police? What’s wrong, what happened?

Police with black hair: Alexander Taylor, former doctor of the Royal Hospital, you are under arrest for being the prime suspect in organ trafficking!

Roger: Organ trafficking? Alec? Alec would never do something like that…!

Police with brown hair: What’s with this child? Is he involved in some way?

Police with black hair: Let’s bring this kid in as a witness.

The police officer reached out for me.

Roger: Stop it.

Alec: …

Alec—he saved me by touching the top of the police officers’ heads.

In an instant, their hands were smacked together.

As if in prayer.

Police with brown hair: W-what? I can’t move my hands apart…

Roger: …Special ability… Alec…you’re…a Cursed One?

Police with black hair: M-monster! Hey, kid with glasses, do you have anything to do with this?

Roger: Of course. Alec’s my fr—

Alec: …Roger. …Our promise?

Roger: Ah.

~~~~ Flashback within a flashback ~~~~

Alec: You can visit me here as long as you promise me one thing.

Roger: Promise?

Alec: If anyone asks about our relationship, reply with this. “We’re not friends. That person and I are complete strangers.”

Roger: What’s with that weird promise? Well, I guess it’s embarrassing to be friends with a kid like me.

Alec: …Yeah, let’s go with that. Promise me, Roger.

~~~~ End flashback within a flashback ~~~~

I was a child then, but I realized the meaning of that promise.

Roger: T-that person…and I… “We’re not friends. That person and I are complete strangers.”

Alec: …Thank you. —"That’s enough.“

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Stress Relief (Sub!Thorin x Dom!Reader)

Summary - Thorin is stressed, you help him destress.

Warnings - Smut, language, Thorin pleading, whimpering (Thorin), handjob, male genitalia (Thorin), bodily fluids.

Pronouns & POV - None, third-person-ish

Word Count - 1,200+

A/N - I believe I wrote this as a birthday gift a few years ago for a dear friend of mine (*cough* *cough* buy The Dragons of Thaveil by Joy Rogers *cough*), I cannot remember if I posted it or not. Pure smut beneath the cut.

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

The familiar tune of deep, breathy moans danced across the dimly lit walls. The soft crackle of nearby fire nearly masked the squelching click that danced alongside the well-known harmony of the dwarven king's pathetic pleads.

A harmony that began to grow louder as the sturdy weight of his head sunk back into your chest, the lids of his sapphire eyes glued shut as he began to quiver.

A faint sheen of sweat glistened upon his forehead, his brows knitting together as his lips fell open. "Fuck." He gasped, feeling a familiar knot begin to weave within the pit of his stomach.

As his grip upon reality began to fade away, his grasp upon your forearm tightened - his nails embedding themselves into your skin with a bitter sting earning a hiss to grace your lips.

"Careful-" The heat of your breath caressed his ear, making a shiver roam down his spine. How cute. You could see why he enjoyed getting that reaction from you. "-or I will have to stop."

A pitiful whimper escaped his lips the moment the words slipped through yours, a whimper he attempted to mask with a groan, but it was no use - he was putty in your gentle hands.

"Please!" The word wavered upon his lips as he sucked in another shaky inhale, the muscles within his lower stomach clenching together tighter as your hand began to slow. "Please don't stop."

"Oh?" Your hand came to a halt at his plea, the corners of your lips curving upwards into a mischievous smile as the dwarven king began to whine. "And why shouldn't I?" You hummed, the heat of your breath grazing his neck. Your thumb slowly circled the aching tip of his cock as you awaited his response.

"Please, Y/N," Mindlessly bucking himself against your hand, his thick brows tightly knit together as his thrusts grew more desperate. "I need you." "Then beg for me."

The lids of his eyes slowly opened before he blinked up at you in shock, his sapphire-colored eyes completely glazed over with lust as he laid there within your grasp - mouth agape at your bold command. 

"Well? Go on then." A hiss escaped his thin lips as your loose grip upon his throbbing cock tightened, allowing you to feel every racing beat of his heart throughout it. "Beg."

"Please, Y/N." He groaned, sucking in the bitter winter air through his teeth as your hand slowly glid up his cock - torturously slow - before gliding down to the base. "Please don't stop...I'll be good."

The slight stinging tear of his nails escaping your soft skin allowed another low hiss to fall out of your lips. "I will do anything you want just, please-" The word stumbled upon his lips as he choked out a stuttered whine, his temporarily loose grip tightened around your arm as the muscles within his abs began to flutter. "Please let me cum. Please."

As the final whimpered word left his lips, your palm left his aching cock for a moment - making a pathetic whine echo dance throughout the quiet room before curling back around it again.

The weight of his head sunk further back into your chest as your hand slowly slid up and down his cock, gradually increasing in speed as your opposite hand roamed his toned body. Leaving a trail of quivering muscles behind as your smooth skin continued upon the lower path of his body.

"You look so pretty." The vibrations of your purred words sent another shiver down his spine and made his muscles tense further. Your hot breath caressed his neck as your movements gradually grew quicker, his hips mindlessly bucking upwards to match your touch as the lids of his sapphire eyes squeezed shut again.

"That's what you are, aren't you? My pretty boy." The blur of brunette hair bobbing made the smirk plastered upon your soft lips widen. The movement of your hand quickened as you traced mindless patterns with the opposite hand upon his lower abs, feeling the muscles tense alongside the familiar burn of his nails embedding into your arm again.

"Y/N, I can't-" "Then don't." You breathed into his neck, your lips hovering a breath above one of the most sensitive parts on him. "Cum for me. Now."

The entire weight of his head leaned into your chest, nearly knocking you into the bed, as the muscles within his lower abs tensed for a final time before releasing. A slew of whined moans fell out of his gaping lips as his body trembled against your touch as white, hot ropes gushed over your hand.

The dwarven king succumbed to pleasure as wave after wave wracked throughout his once tense body; the stresses of reality faded away as the only thing he could think of was the next wave ready to whisk him off again.

As he drifted away within the endless sea of pleasure, you began to press gentle kisses upon the crook of his neck - enjoying every pathetic whimper that slipped out of his parted lips due to it.

"There you go, my love. I've got you." You hummed against his neck as your grasp upon his softened cock released, earning a displeased whimper from him. "I've got you."

The pair of you stayed there in silence for a few moments as you admired your lover's trembling body within your sturdy arms. The smooth tips of your clean fingers softly traced every indent the golden hues put on display as the beautiful image of your lover safe within your grasp, in such a manner, burned into your mind.

"Thank you, amrâlimê." He breathed, the corners of his thin lips curving upwards into a blissful grin as he freed your arm from his grasp. The tips of his calloused fingers grazing over the small wounds he caused as an unspoken apology.

"Do you feel better now, Thorin?" The tone of your voice softened as you moved your clean hand up to cradle the side of his face. "Much." He hummed as he turned his head, pressing a soft kiss into your palm before allowing you to cradle his cheek.

"Now...about that anything-" "No." He stated as he lifted his head from your soft embrace, the bed creaking under his shifting weight as he slid off the bed.

"You do not know what I was going to ask for!" A low chuckle echoed throughout the room as the dwarven king stumbled to the bathroom only to return as quickly as he had left. "We shall discuss your payment another day, but for now-" He began, his calloused hands softly wiping away the white ropes that covered your hand.

"-I want to relax like a wise person has been nagging me to." His beard softly tickled your cheek as he pressed a kiss upon it, tossing the towel aside to be dealt with later before laying beside you upon the soft furs.

The sturdy weight of his head once again rested into your chest as you two lay there in peaceful silence. Not needing to speak a single word of your love for another as the warmth within the air expressed it more than any word could ever say.

──────

"I am not a nag." "Yes, you are." The king muttered, raising his head from your chest. "But you are my nag."

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[oldhalloweentape]

🪨Venture (OW II) x (gn) reader ⛏️

(First Kiss Edition!)

(Not my picture!)

(I thought this song was perfect for this, I remember watching this in the movie theaters way back when, loved it and still do. The first time I saw a representation of some of my culture on that scale, such an underrated movie.)

- In any situation you guys are in, working together or having two different jobs? I don’t think it’d be a surprise when I say the first kiss happens very early into the relationship and they’re the one to initiate it.

- No coaxing or dancing around the subject, you’re getting kissed like three days into the relationship tops.

- If you guys work for Overwatch together, and y’all won a particularly rough mission after going back and forth with the enemy, emotions are high as the celebration of the triumph proceeds.

- It happens so suddenly, like you’re next to Venture, happy as a clam after putting your all into your fighting. Then, out of nowhere, you’re getting grabbed and pulled into a sudden and passionate kiss that leaves you stunned and flushed, silent as a church mouse when they pull away.

- You know that one scene in ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit’ Where Roger kisses Detective Valiant as if his life depended on it? It’s along the lines of something like that.

- You probably said something like, “I could kiss you right now!” After they saved you from getting pulverized and in their mind they went “Bet”.

- Trust me, they’re also kind of surprised that they actually did it—

- Time freezes for a moment as y’all kissed cause the team to go silent before an uproar from the particularly positive teammates— Causing even more cheering, especially if you have someone like Reinhardt on the team, he’d hype you guys up so much.

- That or if you guys are archeologists or simply have different jobs from one another it’s more private and Sloane can try to convince you that it was on purpose. But in Overwatch? Fuck no lol.

- The whole roster was like 80% sure you guys were a thing, but that went up 1000% when Sloane kissed you as if they needed it to breathe.

- Spreads like wildfire and by the end of the day everyone knows you guys are a couple, and a rather cute one on top of that.

- At least you guys don’t have to tell everyone that you’re a thing now.

- It makes Venture a little sad. They were planning something big to announce it cause they felt like it needed to be as special as they think your guys’s relationship is. They were biting back the urge to brag about it for 72 hours (the longest time they’ve ever kept something like that to themselves besides their feelings before you guys were a thing), all for naught.

- Reassure them it isn't a big deal and that if they look at it from a different perspective, the first kiss was a great way of doing it.

- They’ll spring back up when you say that, saying something like “Oh I planned to do it like that anyways!”

- You know, like a liar.

- Besides that little hiccup, it was a great first kiss, they wouldn't have it any other way.

- As one might expect, everyone has different views on the matter, with the positive ones that are like “Aweee look at them go!” And think it’s cute: (Ana, D.Va, Junkrat; a mix between neutral but more positive nonetheless, Kiriko, Lucio, Lifeweaver, Illari, Mei, Mercy, Reinhardt, Sigma; same as Junkrat)

- Neutral, like, “Oh, cool, congrats Ig”: (Brigitte; a bit more positive but still neutral, Baptiste, Bastion, Cassidy, Echo, Genji, Hanzo, Junker Queen, Orisa, Symmetra, Torbjorn, Solider 76, Roadhog, Sombra, Sojourn, Winston, Zarya, and Zenyatta: same as Brigitte but a bit more happy)

- Then the negative, the “I don’t need to know about about that you keep that to yourself”: (Ashe, Doomfist, Moira; sassy about it, Mauga; He’s like an annoying older brother that is constantly trying to embarrass their younger sibling— That sibling rivalry between him and Venture is wildddd, Reaper, Ramattra; a bit more neutral, Wrecking Ball; Blunt and mean about it too lmao, Widowmaker; graduated with her master’s degree in the art of being a hater).

(FINALLY! On the last scheduled headcanon post! Yippeee! Hopefully I’ll now be able to get some requests from y’all now that I’m done with this last one!)

[sporadicthingcollection]

Paint Job (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which Buggy indulges his two favorite hobbies: doing your makeup and driving you crazy. Pairing: Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: General. Word Count: ~1k. Warnings: Pregnancy. A/N: my birthday was yesterday so i wrote this for myself

Your belly button popped out. He had no idea until you stripped your clothes off for a nap and fell asleep cradled in that dumb pregnancy pillow you use instead of cuddling with him.

He squints at it. It looks funny. Round. Sticks out. Kinda like...

...hmm.

The intrusive thought hits him like a fish jumping out of the water and into a boat.

You'd look so cute and he'd get to show off his artistic talent. Not to mention that everyone would know whose baby is in your belly. Not that there's any doubt, of course, but he has to mark his territory somehow and he suspects that you wouldn't appreciate being peed on.

(The obvious answer of putting some jewelry on those naked ring fingers of yours has occurred to him many times, but that thought is somehow scarier than fatherhood. So he ignores it.)

Grabbing his bag of tricks from the vanity, he tiptoes to the bed. He sets himself down slowly, gently, carefully. The bed squeaks as he eases his weight onto it, but you don't stir.

He works quickly. First some white greasepaint, squeezed onto his wrist and dabbed onto your belly with a makeup sponge. Follow that with a bit of black paint, applied with a careful stroke of the brush. Then pigment sticks for the detail work and outlines...

The baby seems to enjoy it. It occasionally moves in response to his touch. Nothing herky jerky -- just little shifts and nudges. Makes his heart melt. He can't wait to meet the little rugrat.

And now the piece de résistance, a dab of red right on the mound of your navel.

Et voilà. Perfection.

He leans back to marvel at his artistry as he wipes the extra makeup from his hand. In another life, he'd have made a damn good painter. Hell, maybe he should invest in some acrylics and canvas. Start a money laundering scheme.

Buggy notices that your eyes are open. Two little windows into a warm, dark abyss. The same color as falling asleep in a cozy bed on a cold, dark night.

“Having fun?” you ask.

“Tons,” he says coolly. “How was the snooze?”

“Great, ‘til your kid started tap dancing on my bladder.” You lean back on your elbows as you stretch your legs out, splaying your toes out like Richie does after he wakes up from a nap. Your belly rests on your thighs now. Try as you might, you can't see over the top. “What were you doing?”

He hops off the bed and offers you his arm, easing you to your feet. He guides you to his vanity with a hand on your waist. Your gait has gained a wobble and, while he's never seen anything hotter, being on a constantly rocking ship makes him nervous.

Your eyes go wide when you see his Jolly Roger painted across your stomach, your belly button forming the nose. You twist this way and that, your smile growing with each shift.

He rests his head against yours. “So everyone knows just who put you up the pole,” he murmurs.

“As if there's any question with how handsy you are,” you snort. You turn that warm smile to him. “Love it, Bugs.”

He didn't think you'd be upset, not really, but hearing you happy eases his nerves greatly. “I decided to take an impressionist approach,” he says. “You can tell from the brush strokes and my liberal use of white.”

You were right, that night you first spent together: you laugh like a gaggle of News Coos. Clattery, loud, inelegant. It's his third favorite sound in the world. The second is that snort you make when you're trying not to laugh, and the first is... Well, his pursuit of that sound is what led to your current condition.

He pushes the gag a little further. “Made it during my Alabastan Period, where I was influenced by--” You push your lips against his. He keeps talking, just to annoy you. “--traditional geometric patterns of nomadic--”

You grab his cheeks and shove your tongue in his mouth. Once he's runs out of breath, you pull away with a big red splotch across your smile. “Shut up,” you say.

“Never.” He moves behind you. He pops his hands off to lace his fingers underneath your belly as he drapes his arms around your shoulders. "How's that?"

You sigh in relief as the weight is lifted off your organs, your spine, everything. "Fucking hell, thank you," you breathe.

He makes a mental note to thank the old ex-con who told him the trick. Surefire way to make your old lady love you forever, she'd said, grinning at her husband. How else you think I ended up with having six kids with this knucklehead?

The thought of six little humans running around fills him with dread... but at the same time, everyone loves a family act. Matching threads for everyone, him in his best and you all dolled up like a work of art. Suits for the boys and little tutus for the girls.

Six little faces looking up at him in adoration, six little creatures to do his bidding, six little people guaranteed to worship the ground he walks on...

You snap your fingers in front of him. "Hey. Clown."

That's enough to bring him back to earth. He hopes to every god that will listen that it's just one in there. "Just distracted by your beauty," he says.

You give him a dry look. "Liar."

"Alright, ya got me. I was thinking about your tits." Buggy rests his chin in the crook of your neck. “How much longer?”

You reach up to pat his cheek. “Couple months.”

He groans. “But I wanna meet Buggy Junior noooow-wuh,” he whines.

Your smile vanishes. “Over my dead body you name my kid that.”

“Why not? It's a great name. Buggy Balthazar Zebulon Xerxes Mixolydian Macadamia--” You pinch his lips shut with your fingers, but he keeps talking. “--Jeremiah Jubilee--”

You turn and shove your tongue in his mouth again. He shuts up for good this time.

---

To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

[hirsheyskisses]

im happy you're taking reqs! love your writing ❣️

could you write hcs for Law with a s/o who knits? or likes making clothing generally, and they make him clothes with hearts, jolly rogers (*´ω｀)

(plus if he wants attention he'd lay on their lap to take their attention from the fabrics to him)

tysm again!!

Knit My Heart.

TRAFALGAR LAW x READER

A/N: OK I don't knit, I crochet, so I am VERYYY UNFAMILIAR WITH THE TERMINOLOGY so I mostly avoided it, so I hope this is mostly accurate!

(Short Scenario)

♡ you have absolutely made their entire winter wardrobe. Jackets, puffy shirts, all of varying colors that compliement each individual member, with the inevitable Jolly Roger of the crew.

♡ law brought you on the crew part because of your skill with knit and fixing clothes, part because of a personal interest he'd gained after talking to you in your parents clothing shop for hours.

♡ to no surprise, you're his lover.

♡ he finds it fascinating how into your creations you can get, as if nothing else mattered in the world.

"You've been at it for hours.. your hands are gonna cramp."

Temporarily, the doctors voice had your attention. Kind eyes met his own as you'd reply, "'s okay! My hands feel fine, I know when to stop. I've even stayed hydrated," gesturing to the tea Penguin had insisted on bringing you every other hour. He sighed, shaking his head.

"Not the point," Law moved to sit beside you on your bed, a hand moving to your thigh, watching you work the yarn. He wasn't sure what you were making: it looked small, like a hat, and it was currently black with an oncoming white patch.

Just as quickly as he'd had your attention, you were back in your world of focus, needles dancing together with the yarn, humming softly.

For a long time, Law stayed there, watching you work your magic. He himself was currently wearing the cute little wrist warmers you'd made him when he'd grumbled about how cold his wrists were. They were white with the Jolly Roger, edges decorated with cute little hearts. He could see the hat coming to life. Law loved how each piece had his Jolly Roger, and he admired the love you put into each and every piece.

However.. Law didn't like how the pieces also stole your attention from him.

It was comical, actually. Never once jealous when you interacted with other men, never once jealous when other men hit on you, because Law knows he's the lucky man who has your heart. (He does however, step in when your safety appears to be in jeopardy.) He brushes off other women to seek you out in the crowds. Never jealous of your interactions with his crew-

- no, he's jealous of your hobby and a cake of yarn.

Law feels like an idiot but.. not much he can do about his feelings, except take matters into his own hands.

Slowly he kicks off his shoes, and positions himself comfortably on your bed before dropping his head in your lap.

"Hmm?" You glanced at him, lifting your work to see his face. Law clearly had a bit of a pout, but seeing your beautiful smile slowly turned his expression soft, lips tugging up as he raised a tattooed hand to cup your face, then let his finger trace down your jaw, your neck, before wrapping it around your body. "Nothin'. Just appreciating the view." The doctor responded, relishing your laugh as he traced his fingers up your side, "that tickles, Law!"

"I know." The former small grin widened a bit as he adjusted a bit to press his face into your stomach, and you clearly got the memo. Setting your project to the side, you reached down and snatched his hat, you plopped it on your head, the brim resting over your eyes.

"My hat now," you teased, and Law snorted, "looks better on ya anyways. ..just take care of it." He said that every time, visibly relaxing as your hand made its way to his hair and began to slowly massage his scalp,

"..if ya wanted attention.. ya could've just asked, Law."

[monkey-d-ezekiel]

Chapter 1100 - Initial Thoughts

this chapter was SO DAMN CUTE AND WHOLESOME IN THE MOST PAINFUL WAY ISTG. ESPECIALLY THIS PANEL. HE'S USING BONNEY'S DRAWING AS HIS JOLLY ROGER 😭😭😭 Kuma is literally so caring it's painful. everything about this backstory makes me feel pained. he's even making sure to keep writing letters to Bonney... HE'S SACRIFICING HIS HUMANITY AND AUTONOMY TO SAVE BONNEY HOW COULD YOU NOT CRY.

LOOK AT THEM HAVING A COOL PIZZA PARTY.. it hurts so much to see everyone so happy.. and even Kizaru!! i love one piece so much i can't even.. i wish all these characters could keep this happiness forever 😭😭😭 AND THEY'RE DOING THE NIKA DANCE TOO IT'S SO PURE AND FUN

i know i've said it enough but Kuma is the DEFINITION of a good dad. the way he cares for Bonney is heartbreaking and this man is just. man. i feel like crying again idk why 😭