#and I can see her getting so lost in the sauce of how she's playing her own hand that she forgets to consider other people's | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

respectthepetty · 4 months ago

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I am a MosBank Truther!

I do not hate all fan service. I think it's good to see men casually touch each other in public AND get paid to do it. My favorite pairs for fan service are MaxTul, who WILL return to me one day; YinWar, who understand the "Business Gay Performance" concept; JoongDunk, who are my GMMTV fighters; and MosBank. But unlike all of these other 200 branded pairs running around in BL Land, I actually think MosBank are a real couple, and I truly believe that they are already married. *looking you directly in your eyes* I'm serious. And I have thirty images from their recent appearance on the Har Tum Show to prove it.

But first, if you are not familiar with this show, Eclair is the host and she invites guests over to cook while she shit talks, and babygirl is quick. Jes and Bible from 4 Minutes were recently on, and while Jes matched Eclair's energy as this was his second appearance on the show, Bible was lost in the sauce, which only made their appearance even more delightful. And the reason is because homegirl casually drops sex jokes and snappy quips into the conversation, so guests must be on their toes to keep up.

AND MOSBANK CAME PREPARED!

Bank and Mos already know Eclair. Bank knows her from college, and Mos knows her from mutual friends *cough* Bank *cough* so they got down to business quick, and by business, I mean dick jokes. They are making deep-fried shrimp sushi, so Bank immediately holds the cucumber to size it up, and Eclair jumps into Bank's blowjob skills after briefly discussing how many shrimp are in the meal. +2 for talking about oral sex five minutes in.

This prompts Bank to sing "Part of Your World" from The Little Mermaid (in English) because it ties into the discussion of the ingredients needed for the meal (shrimp, seaweed, salmon) and blowjobs. No points given because even though Bank can sing, Ariel doesn't deserve to take strays about blowjobs.

Mos discloses that Bank's family owns a durian farm, so the queer movie of the moment The Paradise of Thorns gets mentioned, but Bank throws in his critique that they are more like The Paradise of Scorns. +2 for Bank's wittiness and Mos' sensible chuckle

Then Bank reveals that he is the one who scouted Mos for Star Hunter because he was thirsting over Mos' pictures on social media. +4 because Bank . . . same. I, too, would slide into Mos' DMs after perusing his socials.

As the conversation continues, both men confess that they hated school, but Bank is the smarter one on paper ONLY because he knew he wanted to be an actor and didn't want to appear dumb, so he got tutoring to get rid of his country accent and up his grades, while Mos only got his grades up because his mom sent him to an all-boys school in Bangkok 💀 Eclair is surprised because she thinks Bank plays up the "dumb-blonde" persona, and they joke that's a good thing because he can get away with it. +6 for Mos and his all-boy school

And then we get into the domesticity! Mos and Bank have randomly mentioned they live together throughout the years, so Eclair starts asking questions about their home life. Mos likes to do the chores. Bank likes to shop.

Eclair thinks Bank would feel guilty for not helping Mos with the chores, but both men correct her that Mos likes doing these things, and if Mos was her boyfriend, he'd gladly do it for her too. +10 because Bank does not cook nor does he clean, but he got that ring!

Because Mos seems too perfect to be true, Bank throws him under the bus and admits it bothers him that Mos doesn't say he loves people or misses them NOT EVEN HIS PARENTS OR FAMILY! -2 only because Bank brings this up every year in their Valentine's Day videos, and Mos still is tight-lipped.

But he quickly recovers because he says Mos isn't a man of too many words and actually shows his love through actions, like buying him a Celine bag and other stuff that he cannot mention even though Eclair pressures him to share. No points given

Eclair asks if either one of them gets upset easily, but specifically targets Bank since he is known for having an attitude in their travel videos when he is hungry or tired. +2 to Eclair for being shady

Once they sit down to enjoy the meal that Mos has basically single-handedly made for them, the conversation gets sad when Bank mentions he just wants a good life for his parents and how he misses his grandma, who was his biggest supporter but died during the pandemic so he didn't get to see her before she passed.

It's a heavy moment, but Eclair spins it and asks Mos if he has any sad tales to tell, to which Bank immediately answers that Mos' family is nothing but happy vibes and good times. +1 for the look exchanged between Bank and Eclair because people who have happy families make us all a little sick.

Eclair latches on to the fact that Bank answered the question about Mos' family, and Mos casually responds that Bank would know because he has met his family, several times, since he goes home with Mos, each time. +4 because this is the domesticity that has me convinced they are already married since they are holding hands under the table.

From the way Mos is talking, it's clear the boys stay AT his parents' house when they visit, so Eclair asks if Mos' mom ever hears them.

Mos, in a serious voice, instantly replies that they are quiet.

Bank bursts into laughter, but Eclair isn't done and wants to know what quiet things are done quietly, so Mos offers the only acceptable answer - "Whatever Bank wants" +100 points for Mos being perfect

The conversation gets back to the original point of Bank visiting Mos' family and the guys talk about the first time Bank went home with Mos. The aunties were aflutter when they saw Bank with Mos and because Mos comes from a small community, the entire village practically knew before they even got to the house.

They even recreate the aunties on the street breaking their necks to get a glimpse of Mos' rich boy. +3 for the way the boys deliver it

When they were walking the streets or at the market, they knew people were talking about them (out of curiosity), but whenever Mos or Bank would acknowledge them, the aunties would scatter. +1 for knowing that small town talk is not a negative thing but a way of sharing news

Everywhere they went, people would already know who Bank was because the chisme was running rampant! +2 because the boys are telling the hell out of this story and they are telling it TOGETHER, like both are telling it at the same time. It's glorious!

And since we understand that they were staying AT the parents' house, it seems as if they were also staying in the same room since Grandpa came to collect them once aunties started standing outside of the house wanting to take pictures with them. +2 since Mos is thrilled that Bank was so popular with his people

After the story, Eclair puts on her business cap and opens the door for the guys to talk about their various projects and socials, but the lady is a professional who can turn anything into a sex joke.

MosBank have a YouTube channel called Mong Biew which is a play on their names, but Eclair asks if it's a play on "Bong Biew" which apparently means tilted, and at first I thought she was making a straight/gay joke, but nope! It's a dick joke because Mos proudly declares that it's straight!

And I'm giving Mos another +100 points because this kid gets it! I thought Bank was going to easily steal the show, while Mos was busy cooking, but Mos is just as quick and snappy with his comebacks. He isn't just a Instagram thirst trap! The boy's got moxie!

Because this is still business, the guys give their product placement spiel for an anti-bloat mix, Air-X, and Eclair quickly turns capitalism on its head when she gets Bank to admit he farted on set during one of his romantic scenes with Mos. +4 points to Eclair for making a product placement hilarious and getting the chisme!

And the show wraps up with Eclair giving Air-X another spotlight as she states it's the second item Bank would pack for a trip AFTER HE PACKS CONDOMS!

2000 POINTS TO MY FAVORITE MARRIED COUPLE because we all win when the aunties approve of the boyfriend and Eclair can get a good dick joke or ten out of it!

#mosbank #Har Tum Show #they are my bias #I was proud of them like I had trained them for this #isbanky #mos panuwat #they matched Eclair's energy #usually one of the guests is weak #but both boys excelled #they are married #or they are the best actors on this planet #and I'll believe either one

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ianthewife · 1 year ago

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The Titania&Ulysses and Gideon parallels are honestly making me so insane. With U- and T- John claims to see them as his children. Then he puppeteers them, drags them around like a favorite toy, plays house with their corpses as dolls, he even names one of them after his childhood dog??? Sir, this is not even near to how one treats children, dear God, you got lost in the necro-sauce—

Then this man lives for ten thousand years and now he has Gideon and he brings her into the world the second time, he constructs her, he renames her and proceeds to play mother-daughter with a new miserable corpse. This man just doesn’t learn, does he. But oh well, this time the corpse is a willing one, isn’t that great! Because Gideon got so tangled up in the desperate desire to be a tool, a weapon, a sword hand, a cavalier. Her “mother” crafted her to be a weapon, a bomb, but didn’t get to use her. Harrow refused to use her and if broke Gideon’s heart. But oh-so-luckily, now she has a father who is willing to use her and her sword, to use her as his sword. Surely this means he loves her. And the worst thing is that I think John truly thinks that is how you love your child.

What can I say, such a wonderful family, they are totally normal and well and definitely aren’t enabling the worst patterns of each other *eye twitching, ripping my hair out, chain smoking*

#tlt #the locked tomb #nona the ninth #gideon nav #kiriona gaia #john gaius

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genericpuff · 8 months ago

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i find it funny that one of rachel’s drawings of herself in the afterword that just went up is just fully persephone. is that something she does a lot?

Alright so I've been making it a general rule for myself to like, not harp on Rachel in any way outside of LO as much because frankly the horse is dead now and there's not much left to say outside of what can be analyzed in hindsight. I think despite everything I have to say about her and her work, she still deserves to get away from this nonsense and I don't wanna spend eternity hovering over her shoulder.

But the afterword was posted within the LO series and is clearly meant for readers of LO in the functioning of being an afterword so let's just call it fair game LOL

I will say, on the whole, it does feel very honest and sentimental and I can respect Rachel for taking the time to write out and illustrate her afterword in a way that was personal to both her and her fans. I can understand why she went at it from the angle that she did and I'm not gonna fault her for that.

But there's also something that feels deeply... disingenuous about her approach right from the starting gun. I will say, before I continue, that I'm well aware I am biased towards Rachel as a creator, and I fully acknowledge that I could very well be reading too much into things. This is just my opinion, take it with mountains of salt.

I can get looking back on your own childhood, your past self, whatever, and going "see! it all got better!" because sure! For a lot of creators like Rachel, it must be wild to look back on where they came from and there's a lot of sentimentality on expressing that through an afterword like this where she reflects on where she came from. Though she STILL didn't acknowledge her other comics outside of LO, I can understand if she wants to leave those skeletons in the closet.

But I feel like her drawing herself as a child who's being given an Eisner by her adult self and all that just feels like some gross attempt to disarm any criticism of her because "don't make fun of me, I'm just a sad lonely baby girl!"

She's not a child. Child Rachel didn't grossly misappropriate Greek myth into their own self-indulged vanity project. Child Rachel didn't claim herself a folklorist of a culture's works only to bastardize them completely. Child Rachel didn't create a hostile environment within her fanbase by bullying anyone who she perceived as a threat, sneaking into critical spaces to try and cause trouble, and writing her own clapbacks into her comic. Child Rachel didn't claim to be challenging misogyny and purity culture only to reinforce misogyny and purity culture through her own self-insert baby-virgin-gets-rescued-by-rich-tycoon power fantasy that regularly glorified abuse towards women and the lower class.

30-almost-40-year-old Rachel did though.

At best it comes across as really cringe sentimentality from a Greek-weeb (heh, greeboo) and goes to show how much Rachel inserted herself into Greek myth without ever absorbing its messages or cultural contexts, it was all about her and her feelings as a sad New Zealand girl with dyslexia who thought Persephone's story was about another sad girl being rescued from her "horrible childhood".

At worst it's an active attempt to play on people's heartstrings by drawing herself as a child who people will naturally not want to criticize. I don't want to assume she's doing it intentionally, I really don't want to leave her afterword on a bad foot, as I can definitely understand as both a creator and a person who struggled with learning disabilities in their own childhood how and why she wants to pay homage to her past and where she came from... but let's just say, as someone who's also gotten way too "lost in the sauce" concerning personal self-reflective projects, I think there's a lot to say about how this confirms that Rachel made LO entirely for herself, about herself, without any actual intention to respect the original myths, because she never truly separated them from herself when she was a child. And, in my humble opinion as someone who has Been There with the self-insert OC's and self-reflective angsty plotlines, I can fully attest to the fact that that's not fucking healthy. Even with personal projects, you NEED to learn to get your head out of the sauce, you NEED to learn to objectively separate yourself from the narrative so the story doesn't fall apart under your own hubris and ego, you NEED to learn to draw a line if you want to have any sort of identity as a human being outside of what you make for people. And that's with just normal original stories, this was a story based on Greek myth which doesn't belong to her.

And this goes for a lot of the things she's said and done in the past, so much of her own "sources" even are tethered to things that she read / watched in her childhood and only vaguely remembers, as if she never mentally left her childhood at all, which just... if the point was to highlight her past and the traumas she went through and how they contributed to her present, an Eisner isn't going to validate those experiences. And drawing attention to her past through the lens of her childhood self absolutely 100% does not absolve her of the negative effect her work has had on the modern Greek myth zeitgeist nor the things she's said and done as a 38 year old woman who should absolutely know better.

The community she entered and took from will forever remain changed by her influence and taking, in many ways not for the better. She has the privilege of walking away and never having to think about it again, with all the awards and accolades that were bought for her, the bravado that she built around being a "folklorist" with zero credentials, and the platform she was given over many other creators struggling to even be heard.

That "place" she claims to have now was built entirely on inserting herself into another culture's works and doing nothing but taking, taking, taking, while offering nothing in return but vanity and lip service. That "place" was paid for and brought to you by Webtoons.

#sorry this got a lot more spiteful than i intended #i'm as ready as she is to move on tbh LOL #like god i hope she walks away from all this #she deserves it and so do we LOL #i know she'll never leave behind greek myth entirely because she obviously has internalized it so hard that she's persephone #but christ just. just take your awards and go lol #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #ask me anything #anon ama #ama #anon ask me anything

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tahdashi · 2 years ago

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WHEN HIS BABY WANTS A BOYFRIEND. . .

✫ ft. dad!akaashi, osamu, sakusa, and kuroo

✫ a/n: more dad!hq hcs bc they're all i think about !!! they're all girl dads here, and i imagine their daughters to be around 4-5 years old!

✫ AKAASHI's eyes widen the second he hears his baby girl's sweet voice, her words not making it through to his head completely. keiji looks at her attentively, silence lining his lips. "why do you want a boyfriend, sweetheart?" his mind starts to race. he begins generating countless possibilities of what brought this up — perhaps he isn't giving her enough attention? he has been staying later at work... he starts thinking about how lonely she must feel at daycare as she waits for her dad to come pick her up. her little hands grab at his pant leg, pulling him out of his trance.

"i wanna wear a wedding dress!" she squeals — unlike her father, she's the most excitable ball of energy he's ever witnessed (but second to his best friend, of course). he's at a loss for words. the thought of his little angel wearing a wedding dress takes years off his life, not to be dramatic. his heart beats rapidly in his chest, and he crouches down to her level, pulling her close to his chest.

"i can get you a pretty dress, love. no need to worry about boyfriends, okay?" he consoles her, and she jumps up and down at the thought of wearing a pretty white dress. the next day, keiji picks her up from daycare with a large shopping bag. and when his baby peers over the top of the bag, she sees a big, fluffy tulle dress wrapped around a tiny crown. he kisses her round cheeks, telling her that she's always going to be his princess.

✫ OSAMU puts his spoon down gently before reaching over the table to wipe sauce off her chin. "a what?" he guffaws, not knowing if she's joking or not.

"a boyfriend!" she repeats, crossing her arms and looking up at her dad from her little seat at their dining table.

"why?"

"because," she shrugs. she goes back to eating as if she never said those heart-stopping words.

"because?" at this point, osamu's lost his appetite. there's no way his little girl who asks her papa to hold her up to the sink so she can wash her hands and sing her "clean-my-hands" song is asking for a boyfriend, of all things. she stands up on her seat and puts her hands on her hips (which is nothing new to osamu — she's always been this sassy).

"i wanna marry suna, so he has to be my boyfriend first." osamu brings his fingers to his temple, rubbing circles there before correcting her.

"uncle suna."

"suna! he said i could call him suna," she replies, playing with the animal-shaped vegetables on her plate.

a deep sigh escapes osamu's chest, and he's rubbing at his temple even faster than before. to make matters worse, she jumps off her seat and runs to her dad's room to grab his phone, hitting suna's contact on the way back to the table. watching it all go down, osamu frowns when suna greets his daughter with a "hello, miss miya~."

"hello, suna! papa thinks i'm not allowed to call you suna. can i?" suna's affirmative hum only baffles osamu more, and he can't help but smile at their odd friendship.

"alright, alright, no phones at the dinner table, missy," he grabs the phone from her little hands before hanging up on suna. she whines, but climbs back into her seat to shove a spoonful of rice into her chubby cheeks.

"see! he's gonna be my boyfriend," she chews her words. "and! i'm gonna make him pinky swear to marry me."

and with that, osamu picks up his plate and brings it to the sink, a stress vein popping along his forehead. that night, he holds her a little closer than usual, wanting her to stay this joyful forever.

✫ SAKUSA comes to a halt, stopping her in her tracks, too. his hand grasps hers just a little tighter. she looks up at him through her dark curls, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion (just like his).

"why do you want a boyfriend, angel?" his thumb runs along the back of her hand to calm himself down, really.

"my friends have boyfriends! i want one too!" her fingers tug at his tightly, urging him to keep walking towards the playground.

"oh, yeah? well, they're too young for boyfriends," kiyoomi reasons with his daughter.

"but i'm 5! that's older than before," she stomps lightly. and if it wasn't for this conversation, he'd pinch her cheeks and tell her to take a deep breath before letting her frustrations take over, but he's somewhat entertained at her thoughts. she just wants to be like her friends, and that's understandable, but the thought of her getting close to a boy makes him take a few deep breaths.

"wait 10 more years, and i'll consider letting you talk to boys," they continue to walk, and kiyoomi doesn't miss the way she rolls her eyes like he does when he's stuck in traffic. and when she starts to plead, shaking his large hand in both of her own, kiyoomi decides that a trip to the toy store can make up for his refusal. he picks out a stuffed animal for her to fill the spot she desires so badly. that night, when she cuddles her new toy instead of him, kiyoomi considers extending his condition.

✫ KUROO's laugh fills the room at her question. ("dad, can i have a boyfriend?" she had asked him with her best puppy-dog eyes after she watched an ad for a new drama on TV).

"sure you can," he pulls her onto his lap as he relaxes on the couch before bed. "but may you? no." tetsuro smiles at his own response, proud of how he handled her silly little question.

"please?" she asks, clasping her hands together and giving him sadder, rounder, cuter puppy-dog eyes.

"oh, don't do that," he tries to avoid eye contact, but she ends up laughing that cute giggle that reminds him of her first smile (he heard it one night he was trying to help her sleep, cooing at her and tracing her cheek with his finger. oh, he loves that sound so much.) "what kind of boyfriend do you want? i'll try to look for one next time i go out," he jokes, patting down her messy hair.

she beams at his words, getting up on her feet with excitement. "i want mr. spark from my TV show!"

"isn't he the bad guy?" tetsuro raises his eyebrow and holds back a toothy smile.

"but he's nice to the girl," she thinks out-loud, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"baby, that's his boss. he has to be nice to her or he'll be unemployed."

"what does that mean?" she looks at her dad with wide eyes, as if he's telling her all the hidden secrets of her favorite show.

"if he doesn't listen to her, he won't get money to buy sweets," tetsuro whispers in her ear like he's passing along confidential information. she gasps — her hands cover her mouth and she thinks for a minute.

"then i need a boyfriend who is nice to me... and buys me sweets," she concludes. tetsuro pulls her in for a hug, and she doesn't fight back like she usually does with his bear hugs.

"you're a smart girl," he whispers into her head, hoping she'll let him buy her all the sweets in the world for just a little longer.

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lemonisntreal · 4 months ago

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My thoughts on Sing: Thriller! [finally]

I just want to vomit out some of the things on my mind because ohhh my god, do I have THOUGHTS-

Also! Link here to the short, for the people who want / need it 👍

NO WAY

THE BASTARD LIVES???

THE MIKE FANS WERE ACTUALLY RIGHT????

It wasn't just copium!

Kinda off topic, but this is getting me thinking on how different sized animal's seats are priced. Because they only grabbed one ticket I think, so I think they're literally sharing a seat [WHICH IS CUTE]. But does this mean that bigger animals need to buy more than one ticket? Or are all the seats just ridiculously big? Or am I crazy?

Also thinking of that one scene in Spongebob where Plankton gets sat on by Bubble Bass 😭

Tiny blurry Mike hehe looks like found footage

RAHHHHH

RAHHHHHHHH

Me when I see my fav for 2 seconds with zero speaking lines

Nana is eating also holy shit

EATING 👹

Also Eddie guiding her by the hand is sweet, I love their relationship so much aaywusjhisajhajk

He has such an obviously better relationship with her than he does his actual parents and I'm eating it upppppp

The "How hard can it be to fix a stupid tire anyway???" line was so aggressive, I'm taking this as character development !

She's an actually amazing actor in-universe and I love that

Meena Sweep

Also this set is clean as fuckkk- also a lot more realistic, but still very not LMAO

Also he's DOING A JIG AAA

The crunchy version is for my enjoyment specifically

HOLY SHIT I WAS REFERENCED /j

Also also.

Both GMO and Alice in Wonderland were really short plays from what we see, but I actually do think that this isn't how it actually goes in canon. When they're on the bus in Sing 2, the script looks pretty thick for one. And two- why would anyone pay for tickets for 4 minutes of show?

Like it just makes sense, you gotta understand my reasoning.

They couldn't put the whole 2 hours of play in the actual films, but I like to believe that's actually how it goes

That there's some story and depth to it as well [💀]

Reference. For later.

THE WAY HIS FACE SCRUNCHES DUDE DUDEUDUED

Meena Gunter and Ash are absolutely partying in the back bro

I wonder how often Meena finds herself in cars. Because like there's size, but also we know she just takes the bus everywhere. I don't think her family has a car, they all feel like they utilize public transit instead

Cars that are modified for bigger and smaller animals are probably more expensive and not mass-manufactured either

Not just height but weight limit is also something that needs to be kept in mind. Elephants are like a few thousand pounds.

I think it's just easier to have modified public transit rather than modified individual cars for that kind of load. I bet public transit has way more funding in the Sing universe because of this need too. Because there's also Rhinos, and Hippos, and Giraffes-

I'm getting lost in the sauce again.

HER NOSE SCRUNCH

She was AT that door. First one there, bouncing with excitement. Adorable. I wish Clay had speaking lines with her in this AGH

REFERENCE.

girl what the fuck are you doing here, your ass was NOT invited ‼️

The Infection AU would go CRAZY

Somebody needs to make that rightttt now, actually

I'm giving it some thought right now and how with a few tweaks this could be cool. Like I'd definitely make it so there were different phases, like the MLP AUs. And I'd keep the hivemind thing definitely, because I think that adds an extra terrifying aspect to it

Probably make the ooze stuff look more messy, eyes would be leaking the stuff, mouth.

Idk I'm just spitballing LMAO

The dog from under the table is actually terrifying

Rare sighting of angry Meena

ALSO WHY-

I have a complaint.

Why were they dancing.

For a full minute. With nothing.

No singing. Just instrumental. It dragged on for so insanely long. Like that's my one complaint about this short, is that the pacing is just absolute dogshit after they all get possessed. You can give me a Thriller reprise without making it look super awkward and boring. Why couldn't this have been a cool chase scene instead? Like actually keep up that tension you established?? Because like Crawly and Buster are just STANDING there now, and it's just like-

And then the actual chase is over so fast

Man.

HE'S SO STUPID LOOKING I'M GONNA CRY [positive]

the Borb....... [Buster orb]

I hate the "it was all a dream!" trope but I can't really be mad

I saw it coming from a mile away, and I'm honestly glad because it means that this isn't canon and we don't have to deal with random zombie shenanigans in the actual lore

Or maybe not because Crawly was literally possessed at the end but whatever. Not canon.

My final thoughts are that this was really solid! I feel well fed and very happy to get some new content of the sillies. I will most likely be drawing lots of Thriller stuff because WOW were some of those shots pretty. Overall, critically? C+ short [mostly due to that minute of almost nothing happening]. But my enjoyment level puts the grade at a B+ for me so [B is for Biased].

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soggyriceee · 4 months ago

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Hiiii 👋 omg I love your writing soo much 😫😫😫

Can I request reader being insecure about her body because she saw a gorgeous woman talking to Simon? The woman wasn’t flirting with him or anything, but she was a bit touchy with him. And reader can’t help but feel insecure about her body… thinking Simon could have someone better. Only for him to make sure she’s the only one that he wants and his is desperate for.

Make it smutty 🥵🫠

Honestly have no idea if you’ve written this already or what but thank youuuuu if you do 🥹🩵

your graduation party was supposed to be your night, your night of attention, gifts, well wishes and endless, already paid for shots. of course by none other than your boyfriend Simon.

he was the one who planned this whole thing, waiting two years to finally see you get your college degree. he was nothing but proud of you.

of course as a result of him planning it, he invited a few co workers over. you didn’t mind, actually befriending a few of his female co workers yourself. jealousy and insecurity were emotions you and Simon barely felt, reminding each other every night of how much you both craved and loved each other.

and you cherished that deeply, always reminding yourself there’s no way Simon was going anywhere. but you weren’t sure if it was the drinks, or the crowds of people around you, but you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat as you made your way back from the bathroom to see one of Simons old fling from when he was still dating around talking with him and two others.

you watched from a distance, one of the servers coming around with another full tray of shots. you quickly grabbed one, turning your attention back to the tall, slender woman resting against the counter top, watching as her eyes stared so intensely at Simon, her red stained lips wrapping around her black straw.

you wanted to tell yourself she wasn’t seducing him, she was simply drinking and yoh simply had too many shots. but you could help but feel your anger bubble inside yoh more once her matching red nails pressed against Simons chest, laughing at the joke be obviously just made.

of course, you didn’t catch Simons reaction, how uncomfortable he got. how he cleared his throat and stepped towards the side, checking his watch as he finally noticed you’d been gonna for some time. “excuse me.” he would say, placing his drink on the counter and making his way towards the restrooms.

as he cleared them both out, he began to slowly feel his anxiety make itself into his mind, his fingers quickly pressing your name on his phone.

voicemail.

again.

voicemail.

again.

voicemail again.

“bunny you answer me right now, stop playing tbese games i know you at least feel your phone going off. tell me where you are before i flip this evil place upside down.” he said, weaving between pressed up couples and slumped out dudes against the wall.

but you were far from the club now, sitting at a Taco bell only two minuets from the place. of course you saw his calls but why answer them? in your mind, you had lost him. and that was the alcohol talking.

it took Simon 5 minuets before he began to explore further out of the building, taking note of the skinny purple taco bell sign. “you better be there..” he mumbled to himself, walking with urgency.

now, simon would like to say he was upset. infuriated actually. but his heart softened almost immediately when he saw you in the far back of the half full taco bell, wiping your eyes and stupidly getting hot sauce in them, dropping your taco in order to grab a spare unused napkin.

that was probably your breaking point, the fallen taco. you began to cry, not loudly, silently. but simon didn’t even have to sit down to get your attention, you smelt his cologne as soon as he got close, lifting your head to see him sitting down.

“w..what do you want.” yoh slurred out, your right eye squeezed shut from the slight burn of the hot sauce. “why are you here.” he said softly, grabbing another napkin to wipe the sour cream off your cheek. “you.. you cheated.. “ you replied, barely keeping the napkin to your eye.

“cheated? you’re way more than drunk.” he laughed, but when realizing you were serious stiffened. “what do yoh mean cheat?” he said, shifting.

you groaned, slamming your head on the table. he wanted to laugh, always finding your drunken state your cutest, but he knew that what you were saying you truly felt. “come on bunny.. let’s get you home.”

placing you on the bed, he slowly lifted your dress, tossing it to the floor before turning to the dresser. “now.. which pajamas would you like tonight my love?” he asked, turning when he was replied to with silence.

he turned, his eyes landing on you going through his phone. he wasn’t mad, he was just really fucking confused.

“the.. the girl. where is.. she?” yoh slurred, pointing lazily to his phone.

“what?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “don’t lie to me!” you said, tossing his phone. “you still.. like your ex?” you said, quieter than you just were.

for a moment simon thought you were hallucinating, not recalling an ex anywhere you both’ ve been. but he realized very quickly you took a one time thing, from years ago, as him falling for another woman.

he placed your pajamas on the edge of the bed before walking over to his side. “you’re so cute when you’re drunk.. i like this little jealous you.” he smiled, crawling oven to the bed before grabbing your hips, placing you on his lap.

of course, given his job and all, he had his mask on once leaving the club and has since had it on. so, looking into his drunk eyes you couldn’t help but feel your cunt begin to pulse. his eyes were your favorite thing about him, and you loved fuckinf him with it on. his hands grabbed your hips as he sighed, eyes still on yours.

“you don’t know how obsessed i am with you bunny.” he said softly, his cock already hardening just from the sight of your sloppy drunk state. “i think aboht you all the time. who do you think i was talking about in that group hm?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

he pressed his hips up, both of you reacting pleasantly. your hands found his chest, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “m-me?”

he nodded, dragging your hips forward, bucking his own hips up. “mhm.. that’s right baby. i was talking about you.. and how proud i am of you”, he praised, dragging your hips against his cock as his eyes drifted down to his lap, watching as your hips began to move, your heart pumping faster. “how beautiful you are, how good you treat me.”

immediately, your hips were moving by themselves, his praises alone enough to get you off. “i don’t even have to touch you do i baby? you’re gonna cum all on my pants just from my voice, hm?” he cooed, keeping your hips at the same pace. “you wanna hear how obsessed i am with you, how proud i am.”

your hips moved effortlessly against his tight pants, eyes rolling back as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. you whispered out helplessly, as your orgasm grew. “s-so close.” you cried out.

“go ahead baby get it all out.. give me all that cum baby go ahead..” he whispered, the feeling of you rubbing right against his hard on enough to make him cum too. and he did, right into his pants, feeling his cum trickle in between his thighs as your own cum seeped it’s way through his pants, only adding to the mess. “so messy we are.” he smirked, noting the embarrassment that painted your face.

your fingers dug into his sweater as you rode out your orgasm, your clit pulsing violently. simon was far from done tho, somewhat angry(?) at you for assuming he’d cheat, but he also didn’t wanna admit he was angry with you. he’d never really been angry with you.

he flipped you over with ease, your stomach pressed to the bed now as his hands roughly shoved your dress up, leaving your lacey red panties on. they were soaked, completely, making simon more hard. the idea of fucking you while your cum filled panties stayed on made him wanna cum again, and made his cock go from semi hard to hard right again.

quickly, he took his pants off, leaving his boxers on to stare at the wide circle of cum on his grey calvin klein’s.

“such a mess we made, lets make another one hm?” he smirked, grabbing your hips and pressing them against his. you could feel the cold, wet stain on your ass, causing you to push back on him. “such a waste, your a wasteful girl. all this cum should be inside you.” he sighed, his thumb making its way from the lower of your spine, down the crack of your ass, pressing only slightly against your asshole. “if you’re so wasteful you shouldn’t get any more hm? if it’ll just go to waste like this. you must not want it.”

your head turned back, fingers desperately trying to grab at the band of his boxers as to pull them down. but he was much quicker, grabbing your greedy hand by the wrist and pressing it against your back, grabbing your hair and shoving your face into the mattress. “now we’re greedy? this isn’t my good girl at all.”

you whined desperately, growing annoyed and tired of his teasing. he already had you in the most sinful position, why is he not fucking you already.

“please i need it.” you cried out, moving your hips back and forth as if he was really inside you. maybe it was the alcohol causing such delusion, but he loved it. he loved watching your dress slowly fall back down, covering the juggle of your ass as your hips slammed back against his. his dick wasn’t even out, but you could feel it and that’s all you needed.

however, he couldn’t be bothered to wait any more, needy for your walls to be wrapped around him.

quickly, his cock spring out of the hole in his boxers, your dress pulled up yet again.

“so impatient, so demanding.” he mumbled, wrapping his finger around your panties and pulling them to the side.

now, usually, you and simon would wear condoms. you both were very adamant about waiting for kids until you’ve both lived out your early 20s with parties, successful careers and the financial and mental ability to do so. however, he couldn’t help but wonder what your pussy felt like bare.

he’d dream of it, you having to actually wake him up from his own dream to help him because he’d dry hump you in his sleep. it was the cutest thing, his soft whimpers and random moans of your name. he knew he’d be wrong for fucking you with no condom, but it was the alcohols fault. he couldn’t help it.

he slid in, stopping halfway in because he couldn’t take the sound alone. the filthy squish of your wetness and cum as he pushed into you, his cock wet with all your juices.

continuing, he pushed himself all the way into your slimy cunt, his hand already letting go of your hand pined to your back. “s-simon!” you squeaked, only for your head to be pushed back into the pillow.

hos hands found your hips, wasting no time in fucking into you, one hand on the back of your head the other on your hip. “fuck you’re s-so beautiful bent over for me like this… oh it makes my cock so-so hard.” he moaned, shamelessly rolling his eyes back as your cum and slick coated his cock base to tip.

his lips formed into a smirk, a confident smirk, hearing how whiney you were for him, how hard you tried to squirm away from the abuse but he held you in place. you were a piece of paper compared to your muscular prince, quite frankly it was embarassing you thought you’d escape him so easy.

“think you’re gonna escape me? hm?” he bunched your hair in his fist before pulling your head up from the bed, your face bright red and tears running down your face.

fuck you’re beautiful, he would think to himself, feeling his cock twitching at the sight of you. it was pathetic truly, how quick and easy you made him cum. it was one of the reasons he was so obsessed with you, your pussy owns him. he knew and you knew it.

his balls slapped against your clit with each thrust, only adding to the growing overstimulated feeling. your lips grazed against each other, his hips still slamming into yours. “i-i’m gonna cum love” he groaned, his eyes staring into your helpless ones.

he loved how well you took him, how you just let him use you. how you were okay with being pounded into. “you gon lemme fill you up hm?” you whimpered a pathetic yes, so drunk you had no idea he didn’t even have a condom on.

“that’s right baby.. gonna give you all m-my babies. all my cum.” he said, his finger nails digging into your skin.

his cock twitched inside as your gummy walls massaged him so good, his balls still abusing your throbbing clit. “gonna be such a good mommy.” he panted, feeling his balls tighten as his orgasm worked its way through his body.

he took his hand from your hair to your throat, sliding his thumb into your mouth as he forced you to open wide. drool almost immediately slid down his hand, only making his thrusts more aggressive and sloppy.

“y-you’re gonna make me cum..” he choked out, a truly pathetic whimper slipping past his lips. “gonna fill you.. gonna fill you with all of it.”

he slid out, flipping you to your back in one swift movement before shoving himself rifht back into that warm pussy. his hands found the sides of your head, your legs wrapping themselves around his waist as he pounded rifht back into you.

his calloused thumb again found your clit, at this point hurting himself as he stopped himself from cumming. “come on princess cum for me.. cum for me show me how badly you want my babies in this fucking pussy.” he panted, his eyes locked onto yours.

and that’s what did it, his eyes.

your pussy convulsed around his cock, his tip abusing your cervix. it was way too much and you couldn’t take it.

“s-simon it feels weird.” you whined, your hands pushing on his lower abdomen. all the cum that he was waiting to fill you up with, came out the second your hands pressed on him. he wasn’t sure if it was the pressure, or just you, but he couldn’t hold it anymore.

“o-oh fuckk!” he groaned out, his hips slamming full force into you as his cum filled you up, earning a painful yelp from you. his tip was hitting directly on your cervix and the orgasm you just had, quickly disappeared and was instead replaced with pain.

but he was so in love with this new feeling, a whole new type of orgasm he’d never felt before. his hips continued their abuse on yours, his tip still sticking to your cervix. “simon it hurts.” you cried out, trying to get his attention that you weren’t trying to be sexy, it genuinely was agonizing.

but hearing how you began to sob, how you squirmed beneath him, it was a disgusting, dirty creepy fantasy of his. but he couldn’t help but feel another orgasm approaching him. “yea i know baby i-i… i know.” he panted, his eyes rolled back as his hips grew slow and sloppy.

he loved how you tried to fight him, how strong he was. maybe it was the forcefulness of it all, but he loved having you squirm beneath him. so much so, that when he came again, he couldn’t help but pin your hips down into place as he fucked his cum back into your hole, annoyed that any was even seeping out to begin with.

your stomach was on fire, it hurt terribly. and when simon had finally noticed you never even came, he looked down at yoh and saw the discomfort all over your face. “i-it hurts.” you whined, kicking him off of you.

the rest of the night and early morning was full of needles and IVS, the male nurses not even bothering to help you in any way. simon requested only female nurses for you, wanting to remain the only man who will take care of you and to help you up, despite being the reason you both were even in here to begin with

hoping and praying y’all like this one, i enjoyed this request a lot so 😼😼

#cod #call of duty fan fiction #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley #simon ghost riley

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skippyv20 · 1 month ago

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Oh wow! 2025 just around the corner!!!!

Wishing you all a very Happy New Year. It’s hard to believe 2024 is on its way out. For many it’s been a good year, and for many a sad, difficult year. Looking back on the difficult times, remember this….you made it through. Even in those moments you didn’t think you could. It is when you reflect on it now, you will see that God was right there with you. We are never alone. I am so grateful for this wonderful community we have here, but so sad that Tumblr changed the rules. We have lost many that can’t write in anymore unless they set up a Tumblr account. Some just won’t do it, or can’t do it. I understand that. However, they are missed. This will change our prayer requests as well this year. We won’t have so many writing in. I hope that this will not change the fact that the few that do write in, still need our prayers. We will just be praying for fewer. I feel bad about that.

Along the way this year we have made new friends, and lost some friendships. People make choices and we move forward without them, still praying for them and wishing them well. People go though so many different life experiences, and we all react differently. Life gets in the way sometimes. Our lives can change in an instant. When that happens, we need each other the most. You all certainly have lifted me on my darkest days. I am so grateful for you all. You add so much to my life.

I haven’t been around much this Christmas. Things are just too blurry now, and to read and write on here is a struggle. It also gets on my nerves. It’s very frustrating. So I have taken some time off. I got through Christmas. I got through a fun filled Boxing Day. The basement backed up a bit in the furnace room. That meant not using any water. Dishes in a big bowl, and emptying water into a pail, rinse and repeat was fun. Brushing my teeth in a glass was fun. It added much comic relief remembering not to touch the water tap. It made me think of Christmas in the 1800’s. The plumbers charge double over Christmas. One guy didn’t call us back, the others said if you don’t want to pay double call back on January 2nd. So, Mr. Skippy and SIL went and rented a machine and fixed it themselves. I was very impressed. Relieved to only have waited 24 hours to resolve the issue. Memories!

Christmas Day was hard. I missed my Cathy and Panda and Sheldon the cat. Just wasn’t the same. It was Ellie’s first Christmas. She doesn’t like paper. She doesn’t like commotion. She likes to create it but not live in it. She loved her toys, only after they were unwrapped for her. She preferred Jaxon’s cat toys. She was much happier when things quieted down. Oliver too is the same as her. He has never liked the commotion, and he has never liked paper. Trash bags too, Ellie hates those. She did give lots of hugs and kisses though and did brighten my day, as usual.

No big New Year’s Eve plans here. I made lasagne. Took me four hours. What a nightmare. Thought I had all the spices and whilst making the lasagne meat sauce found out I didn’t have two spices. Mr. Skippy went off to the store to get them. While he was gone….noticed two more spices I didn’t have. So, I thought why not improvise. So, I threw in Italian seasoning. We shall see how this lasagne turns out. I think after supper we will play a few games of charades. We played on Christmas Day and had so much fun. We are so blessed that our daughter and SIL live with us. We always have entertainment. They are so much fun. We are blessed indeed.

Well, just wanted to update you all. You are not forgotten. I carry you all in my heart, always. I am praying that each and every one of you have the most wonderful New Years Eve. May 2025 bring you all lots of laughter, love and good health. Mostly I pray you feel God’s loving presence, on good days and bad. I send you all hugs and love.

God Bless you and yours. 🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

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captain-hawks · 7 months ago

Note

Dee, I have Thoughts and no one irl to brainrot @ so pls excuse the umpteenth time I am in your notifications this weekend.

Last week I word vomited in your spicy requests about how much TraditionalGarb!Hoshina plagues my thoughts. Well, I went out for dinner and had a few cocktails, and my slightly drunk, pliant mind was churning the entire ride home. [Sober Note: I started this ask right when I got home, and now, having sobered up a bit, holy hell I am sorry for getting lost in the sauce and turning what was supposed to be drunk imagines into something ludicrous. I can't quite bring myself to delete it bc I was clearly so into it, but seriously if this is too long/annoying please just ignore me!]

I'm thinking of a historical period-era AU Hoshina clan. Not too familiar with Japanese history but maybe Edo period, idk about historical accuracy. In my imagines, reader is from a less influential, albeit wealthier clan, has 2 older brothers, and grew up around the Hoshina family from birth. Both their families are preoccupied with the eldest children and their role in continuing the family legacy/business, so their families don't hound them too closely in their childhoods. They're in a rural, countryside part of Japan with plenty of wild grass and flower fields. Soichiro holds all the weight of family expectation so he is more aloof. But Soshiro is allowed more freedom, so when he isn't obsessively training, he is spending time with reader as her closest childhood friend. Meanwhile, reader is trained in all the traditional arts and duties expected of her, but she also has a love for calligraphy (or painting but idk how accurate that is) that she is allowed to cultivate because, again, her parents aren't hounding her too closely. She's fascinated by Soshiro's swordsmanship and makes him show her all the moves he is learning, and in turn, he is enthralled by her knowledge and love of calligraphy and likes to hear her talk about it for hours even if he doesn't quite get it. Because they're in a rural area, they also play outdoors together whenever they can, climbing trees and splashing in the streams, and Soshiro is rough-and-tumble and free around her in ways he can't be at home when he's ceaselessly trying to measure up to and surpass his brother. As they grow older they are naturally forced apart due to expectations of their genders and stations. They still hold onto what they believe is a fondness for their childhood friend, until one day, as the wild wisteria blooms and they see a glimpse of each other after an absence of several months, they both realize that the innocent fondness held in their hearts had taken root long ago and finally bloomed into love.

Unfortunately, in the Edo period, warrior families started to lose their place in this era of newfound peace, and the Hoshinas are forced to worry about their place in this world for the first time. At the same time, reader's clan is struck by tragedy and her 2 older brothers are killed in an accident, leaving a vacuum for the future of the clan. The Hoshina and Reader patriarchs decide on what they believe is a mutually beneficial arrangement: Soichiro and Reader shall join their clans in marriage. Reader's clan benefits from the prestige of the Hoshina name, and the Hoshina clan benefits from the prosperous wealth of her family. As the sole remaining offspring of her clan, she should be honored to be chosen to helm the Hoshina household and bear its heirs.

Ofc Reader is devastated, but she knows that her voice is unimportant and she will forever be doomed to suffer in a life so close to her dreams, but with a cruel twist. She sees Soshiro just once after the engagement announcement, and it is with a too-cheerful mask that he congratulates her on her match, and, in a moment when no one is looking, he slips into her hands a small gift that he had picked up in the capitol on his last trip and had been meaning to give to her: some fine new ink he thought she would love for her calligraphy. He supposes it is an engagement gift now, even if the gift is only really for her.

On the eve of her wedding, she manages to sneak out and find Soshiro. Together, they go to the grassy field of wildflowers by the creek they played in as children. Even though fate is not on their side, it seems the moon has sympathy for them, because it hides behind clouds and conceals their illicit meeting. They're finally able to declare their love for one another in the place where it all began. She tells Soshiro that even though destiny was determined to keep them apart, she wants to know what it is to wholly love and be loved, just once in her life. So under the glow of a thousand fireflies, she undresses Hoshina, gently pulling his kosode apart to reveal his chest. She laughs lightly as she traces his scars-the old and familiar ones from childhood, and the newer ones he has acquired in manhood. She traces the marks she remembers: the dented scar on his shoulder from when he fell out of the cypress tree trying to grab a beetle to impress her when they were five. The patch of slightly uneven skin along his arm from three years later, when he had run after his father's horse in the road and tripped down the hill. The thin, raised slash from when Soichiro had cut him in training at age 11, to teach him a lesson on inferiority. From there, she draws lines to the unfamiliar marks: a puffy patch of new skin from a recent battle wound that has only started to heal, two pigmented gashes where he was gouged in battle last year, a mottled expanse of bruises on his ribs from where he had challenged Soichiro last month, just after the engagement announcement, and had finally shown his brother that his attempted lesson in inferiority had never sunk in.

She says that all these marks tell her a story in the same way a calligrapher's soul is left indelibly in their brushstrokes. She sees a world in his body, and it tells her favorite story. Overwhelmed, Soshiro finally crashes into her and through the flurry of kissing he has her on her back in the grass, slipping her out of her garments. He's mapping his way across her significantly less blemished skin with his lips and tongue, and laments between pants that he will never be able to partake in the story of her body, because she belongs to his brother and he cannot leave his own brushstrokes on the expanse of her skin. Breathless, reader pulls a bottle tucked into her undergarment next to her heart-a vial of the precious ink Soshiro had gifted her. Her wedding is tomorrow-she knows there is no way he can leave any lasting marks on her. But for tonight, she is his and she wants some proof of that, however temporary. So Soshiro dips his finger in the ink and swirls and dips it all over the memories he has buried in his mind: a spot on her neck where a particularly vicious bee had stung her as they chased tadpoles as six-year-olds, a whorl on her shoulder where his ten-year-old head rested as she unrolled endless scrolls to extol the virtues of some long-dead calligrapher, an almost-violent slash just under the swell of her bosom where he had caught her when she had fallen in her attempt to swing his katana at 13.

And as he finally lines up his achingly hard cock and breaches her cunt, as he makes love to her for the first and last time, he grieves for the death of the two stories written here-hers, which will be washed off her body as soon as she returns to her home, and his, which will wither and end without her to trace the patterns and give them the meaning he can never find by himself. [sober note/holy run on sentence batman]

you better believe i'm posting this ask because IT NEEDS TO BE SEEN!!!

MY FRIEND!!!!! i'm on my knees. i'm begging. i'm clawing at the air. i'm frantically waving anything of value that i have in your direction. i implore you to write this because i'm wholly obsessed. a period piece, childhood friends, the arranged marriage, THE YEARNING, THE LOVELY POETRY OF IT ALL EVEN JUST AS A SUMMARIZED VERSION!?!?!?

She says that all these marks tell her a story in the same way a calligrapher's soul is left indelibly in their brushstrokes. She sees a world in his body, and it tells her favorite story.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(don't even get me started on him painting on her????? oh my god i'm so unwell. i need one of those fainting couches. i want to CONSUME THISSSSS)

you're a genius. a brilliant wonderful genius.

#💌 inbox #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina soshiro #THIS!!!#this right here

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seraphont · 7 months ago

Text

FAQ & Important Info

About me:

bday: march 30th

lgbt?: im bi

What can we call you?

Seraphont is fine, its supposed to be a play on of Seraph and Serif Font, you can call me Seraph!

What pronouns do you use?

I'd prefer They/Them, but you can use She/Her.

Whats your Main blog?

not posting it publically for now.

Dying and Getting Over It (DaGOI au) Related:

Where can I read DaGOI?

It will be uploaded to my Ao3. its currently being written, so there is no link to the fic yet.

When will you post the fic?

short answer: I'm not sure, possibly by early october. its my first time writing a fic, so I ask you to be patient with me! the outline is written and being tweaked, and its going through adjustments now that MD ep 8 is out. Im also moving across the world, so I'm a tad bit busy rn.

Will you include MD ep8 into the canon of your fic?

at first I was on the fence, but its grown on me, its being integrated now.

Will you be drawing all of DaGOI in comic form?

if I was a stronger man I would. I'll mostly be drawing key story moments. making comics is an aid to helping me write. so I'll be making a lot, but I may not be posting them until the chapters start coming out (trying not to spoil everything). to give you an idea, as of writing this, I have 6 comics on the backburner lol.

Art Related:

What art program(s) do you use?

Procreate -Brushes: Shiyoon Kims Wet Brush pack (X) (everything you see on this blog is made with this brushpack) and several Max Packs (X) for procreate

How long have you been drawing?

I've always drawn, but I started getting really serious at 14, around the same time I first made my main blog. I was self taught up until I got into animation school.

What do you do as a career?

I'm currently doing Freelance work for publishers and individuals. I was previously an animator, I'm making the move to storyboarding

Do you take requests/commissions?

I do have commissions open. only lineart, and flat colours are available. if you want a rendered piece: slots are closed, but you can dm me for interest.

Asks and Messaging:

Rules for asks/tagging?

Anyone can send me an Ask, Mutuals, Anons or not!

Dont send discourse or anything explicitly NSFW. you'll be blocked lol. I'd prefer if you didnt send suggestive. if you send me triggering content I’ll mind blast you into dust. (block).

Do not send and DNI's?

Transphobia, Homophobia, Acephobia. All the obvious bigot contenders.

SA, pdfilia and incest are absolute no goes.

are you okay with me direct messaging you?

only if we have spoken before/ you're giving me a headsup about something/ I've prompted you to send me one.

***minors: please refrain from dming me to chit chat, im not down to.***

Why don’t you answer my asks/dms?

my main has 1000+ asks and my other side blog is pushing 250+, sometimes the ask's get lost in the sauce. that being said, some ask's go unaswered because: 1. it might spoil too much if I were to answer. 2. I simply have to think hard to reply. 3. its super nice and im hoarding it all for myself.

Misc

Can you reblog my donation posts?

no. too many scams.

#repurposed this post to be a FAQ #faq page

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yelenasdiary · 2 years ago

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Hi!

I have this cute Florence fic idea and thought I'd send it to you. Of course you don't have to write it if you don't want to. 💖

Florence was on set filming a movie and reader wants to surprise her by cooking dinner for her. When Florence comes home there is a lot of mess in the kitchen. The surprise didn't go as planed and Florence needs to help reader cook but at the end they are happy because they had a lot of fun and enjoyed the cooking together.

A Beautiful Mess

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Reader

Summary: Florence comes home to a lovely smell but a messy kitchen.

Fluff | No Warnings | 1.1K

AC: Thank you for sending this, I loved the idea! I hope you enjoy this x

Florence walked through the front door to the welcoming smell of something cooking in the kitchen and music that played at a medium volume. She kicked off her shoes and dropped her bags to her feet, a problem to deal with later she thought before making her way to the kitchen.

There you were, surrounded by a mess that most would be bothered by. Pots of all sizes cluttered the countertops, ingredients scattered around the other countertops while you used a wooden spoon to stir whatever contents were in the fry pan. She could hear the soft humming coming from you, completely unaware that Florence was standing in the doorway with a smile tugging at her lips.

Even Billie was too distracted by the meat scraps that you dropped on the floor for her. She sniffed all around your feet for any sign of goodness she might've missed. The sight only made Florence even more glad to finally be home. She took a few short steps, coming up behind you and wrapping her arms around you. You gasped as first, frightened as you jumped and almost knocked the fry pan to the floor.

"I'm sorry darling, I didn't mean to startle you" Florence apologized, trying to hide the amused look on her face from your reaction.

"You're home early!" you commented before your eyes quickly scanned your surroundings, taking in the large mess you'd made. "This was supposed to be a surprise" you added as your eyes traced back to Florence, you pouted before sighing in defeat.

"Don't look so sad love" Florence gently pulled you closer, smiling softly at the feeling of finally having you back in her arms after a long few days without you.

"I was trying to cook your favourite! I was going to set the table and set up the cinema room for movies later, why didn't you text me to let me know you were on your way?" you asked, wrapping your arms around the back of Florence's neck.

"I'm sorry baby, my phone died on the plane" she apologised once again.

Looking into her eyes, you knew you couldn't hold this against her, even if you wanted too. "Well, maybe it's a good idea you came home early" you chuckled, "I was totally winging it and I think I've stuffed up the sauce" you added. Florence smiled softly before crashing her lips onto yours, "is that your way of asking for my help?" she asked as she pulled away to grab her apron.

"I believe so" you smiled.

Florence grabbed a teaspoon, dipping it into the sauce for a taste test. "You almost had it!" she spoke before reaching for the salt, "it just needs a little more salt and some more tomatoes" she added as she spung around on her heels to face you.

"We don't have any more tomatoes" you replied.

"There should be a can of crushed tomato in the cupboard"

Of course, Florence was right, you found the can of crushed tomatoes and opened it for her. "I'll continue on with the vegetables" you smiled softly as she took the can from your hand. Florence nodded as she poured the tomato into the sauce before giving it another stir. You focused on the vegetables, getting lost in the moment when your humming started once more.

You didn't notice it but as Florence helped you cook, she let you take the lead and only gave you a hand where she thought you needed it the most. She could see how much you wanted to cook for her and give her something lovely to come home too, little did you know, that just the idea of coming home to you was more than enough for her.

She loved watching you humming and dancing around the kitchen that she couldn't help but join you. Gently grabbing you by your hips and pulling you closer to her, leading you two into a slow dance while the sauce simmered over the heat of the stove. No words were spoken, it was just the two of you in this moment, smiling softly at one another while music played in the background.

Florence had been in more movies than she can remember but this moment felt much more like it came straight out of a movie than ever, but this was real.

"Honey, the sauce is going to burn" you said, bringing Florence's mind back to the cooking. Her hands left your hips so you could turn off the stove and begin to dish up her favorite meal. "Oh god!" you looked around the kitchen before turning to look at Florence once more, "I'm so sorry about the mess!" you added. The kitchen had only grown with more mess since Florence helped you cook, she chuckled.

"It's okay my love, I'll help you clean it up after dinner" she replied.

"No, no! You're not lifting a finger; tonight, is all about you and for me to show you how much I've missed you" you spoke with a raised brow in hopes she wouldn't be her stubborn self and help you anyway.

"What would I do without you, huh?" Florence replied.

----

After dinner, the dishes were placed in the sink before you made Florence a hot cup of tea to drink while she relaxed in the cinema room but of course you knew that wasn't going to last long when you felt her wrap her arms around your waist once more. "Can we make cooking together a regular thing?" she asked before placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

"You mean, me make a mess and you saving the day?" you turned in her arms with a warm smile. Florence chuckled once more, "that's not how I see it" she replied.

"Oh yeah? I'm pretty sure that's exactly what happened"

"I came home to a beautiful mess, a lovely dinner and my two favourite things in the entire world, Food and Billie" Florence playfully raised her brow as you gently slapped her arm.

"That's the last time I try to do anything sweet for you!" you joked.

"Hey! I like coming home to you, my beautiful mess" Florence pecked a kiss on your forehead.

"Now, if that wasn't so sweet, I'd never cook for you again" you chuckled, blushing big time. Even after two years together, she still gave you the nervous butterflies and she knew a little too well how to make you blush. "Would you like some help cleaning up?" she asked, but you being the stubborn person you were shook your head, "nope, I've got this one" you smiled softly before kissing her lips deeply.

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #fanfiction

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twstyuna · 7 months ago

Text

Once upon odd oneirisms

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Yuu/MC

Summary: Riddle can't play with his friends anymore, so he doesn't. He's to focus on his studies now, so he will. He'll follow Mother's schedule- he'll study, eat, and sleep as he's been instructed to. He's not quite sure where the stranger in his dreams fits into all that.

Notes: Spoilers for Riddle's backstory, warnings for what having a very strict doctor-mother may entail. In other news this may be kinda OOC compared to the other fics in this series. It's been a while i just wanted to be able to write something/anything.

Masterlist of Such Meetings

There is something wrong when Riddle's playing croquet with his friends, because he's not allowed to play with his friends.

He doesn't have the self-study free time for it anymore. He's not allowed to even meet them.

But he's playing with them, right here, right now, and even though he says he should go home, because he's running out of time and could get himself and Trey and Che'nya in trouble (and has), he doesn't. The smiles are as sun-bright as the laughter and even if he hasn't won a single match from all the changing rules, he can't bring himself to care. When Trey's parents call them over for a break, he finds himself before a table loaded with sweets, the delightful desserts displayed in a delectable array, their syrups and sauces and sugary dust glittering like jewels in the golden afternoon.

He's about to bite into a tart when Che'nya and Trey call him back to their game of croquet. It's unfair how quickly they finish their shares, but Riddle can forego even these treats if it means he can spend some more time with his friends. He has to excuse himself from the table first, only-

Only he doesn't quite know how to address the head of the table, right now. The figure isn't Mother, or the Clovers. It's a stranger. He hasn't sat himelf on someone else's table, has he? Didn't Trey make these treats to share with him and Che'nya? Was this one of their friends?

He's pondering what to do about his dilemma when the figure tilts her head as she points at his plate, which seems rather rude.

"Does it taste like anything?"

The tart should. It's the sweetest thing in the world. But Riddle can't taste a crumb of it now. It doesn't smell like anything either, not sugar or strawberries or buttery crust, no matter how much he chews. He furrows his brows.

"Tastes like air doesn't it?" The girl sighs, tipping her cup, its contents spilling onto the table. "Always does. Or spit. And they're so pretty too. . .what a shame."

Riddle glares. She's the uninvited guest here. She plopped herself down on his table and is making an absolute mess. She must have stolen the tart's flavor and fragrance.

He opens his mouth to scold her but no sound comes out. His hands fly to his throat.

Did she steal his voice as well?

She frowns. She says something else, probably just as rude, but the words are lost as Riddle's eyes snap open.

A sound escapes him, the beginning of some angry thing, some sort of retort, but he quickly claps his hand over his mouth.

Still, Mother hears him as she passes by his room. She'a surprised to see him awake already, but decides that they can start the day early. He has things he has to catch up on, after all.

Riddle can't remember what woke him up. Or what he meant to say. Or who he meant to talk to at. As he eats the light, measured breakfast Mother's carefully prepared for him, he thinks it tastes a little like air, light and bland as it is, and he wonders why the thought so suddenly sours his mood.

~ ~ ~

"Oh. Oh this is odd."

He's in a field of fire, which is odd, but the source of the voice is looking at him like he's the strangest thing here.

"I've heard that you need to see a face before you dream it, that it counts even if you've only seen it for a second on a street, or in a picture. But that hasn't really included dream-people for me, before now. I wonder where I dreamed you up from. You don't look very real. Your hair is too red. Your eyes are too bright. You seem more like a prince in a picture-book, than a real person."

He says he is real. At least he thinks he does, but it feels like he's speaking through water. He must have said he is real, because she looks like she heard him, tilting her head at the words. He also says that she is on fire.

She just hums. "Wouldn't be the first time."

She mumbles something, about firetrucks and documentaries, as she moves deeper into the burning house. He follows to pull her out, but he can't see a thing. There's no smoke, just too much light that doesn't burn his eyes though it should. It's all nonsense. Was there a building before? Of course there was, there was always a building. What building is it then?

Oh, it's his house. Of course it is. He's lived here forever. There's the flamingo-chair on the ceiling that he turned into a chandelier. He knows that if he opens the fridge, he'll find one bowl of strawberry soup on the second level, and he does. He can't really check now though, because fire. He should get a bucket. He should put out the fire, because houses should not be on fire-

"You're slipping," she says simply, and suddenly, he thinks himself silly.

Of course this isn't his house. It only has a single floor in it. His mother's framed pictures are nowhere to be found. His house doesn't have a croquet-room. He'd never be so foolish as to let his house be set on fire. Did she do it then? She's the only other one here, she must have set on fire this house that is his house and that isn't his house-

"You're very bad at this," she hums. "Or very new."

New at what? He can't tell if he's speaking or if she's just carelessly plucking the thoughts from his head.

Whichever way it is, she smiles. "If I tell, you'll lose."

That's not fair. Of course he'll lose a game if he doesn't know he's playing one.

. . .what are they playing again? Is he even allowed to be playing? The grandfather clock's chiming, it's time for his lessons-

"Good luck with them," she says.

He can still hear her voice as he finds himself in bed.

~ ~ ~

Wood is surprisingly comfortable.

Riddle watches books fly by as he sits up in the eighty-second level of the shelf. It's not too bright, not too dark. It's not too low, or too high. Among the one thousand seven hundred and eighty-three levels of his shelf, he thinks he has a pretty good one.

He takes a book from the pile around him, looking between shifting images and letters and the world between the shelves. More bookshelves rise in the distance. He wonders how many of them hold people like him.

His pile of books is plentiful, but more seem to pop up, like mushrooms after a storm. He frowns as he pushes a stack of them to the side, careful not to let them fall.

One tumbles over the edge anyway.

"Ow."

Oh dear-

He scrambles to peer over the side. A girl looks up. Her frown disappears at the sight of him.

"Again. Really?"

He asks what she means.

"I really have to wonder why I keep thinking of you. I mean, I suppose I think of you because you appear, but then that means you keep appearing because I think of you. That's not supposed to be how that goes."

How what goes? How would she know anyway?

"Maybe you don't know," she says. "But I do."

That doesn't sound right. Why would she know more than him? He knows now, that the regiment Mother's made for him isn't the norm, but it's something she tailor-made to help him succeed. How could this stranger know more than him after all he's learned? She's not surrounded by books, she's not studying-

Oh, what is he doing? He should be studying ! There's an exam in only a few minutes, and he isn't able to remember a single formula yet-

"What a dull life you have."

He glares at her. She's sitting at his shelf level now, legs swinging over the dizzyingly-high ledge.

"Books, books, books. Study, study, study. Are you even really resting?"

He doesn't need fo rest, he gets plenty of it. His schedule gives him exactly eight hours of sleep every day.

"You shouldn't have to care about that right now. You won't remember any of what you're looking at anyway."

He can and he will - he knows the proper way to study and test his memorization and understanding-

"Oh for goodness' sake!"

Then the books are gone. Not knocked over, not scattered, but nowhere. Every single one of them. He looks around himself, distraught. However will he study now?

"You don't. That's the point."

He turns his eyes to her. She did this then. His blood begins to boil-

"Upupup- none of that !"

His thoughts stutter. He stiffens as she leans into his space.

"If you get mad, you lose."

"I don't have time for games! "

She blinks. Then beams. "So you can speak!"

Of course he can speak. Why wouldn't he be able to? Why hasn't he? It's not breaking a rule in this library, is it? Wait, wait he's suppose to be quiet when he-

"None. Of. That."

Her fingertip taps the top of his nose, punctuating each words. The nerve-

"Look, it's your friends!"

He huffs. Did she think he was an idiot? Why would Trey and Che'nya be-

He's tackled from behind the way only the cat would tackle him, and when he turns all he sees is a fading smile. Trey calls him over with a grin. They stand on a lawn, croquet mallets at ready.

Oh. Oh it's his turn! He moves right over and gives the hedgehog a good thwack. It scrambles over Trey's green one to reach the arc and victory sweeps him into a grin-

"This is better than studying, isn't it?"

Riddle blinks. He glances at her. There's a girl, some irritatingly familiar face. He doesn't know why she annoys him so much. If the irritation is because it's her or how she's right. (Right about what though? Aren't they strangers? What's she doing here, with his friends? Is she-)

She smiles back, like a friend. "You can have them all the time, if you want. You just have to. . ."

Her words fade away, though he tries to listen, because it's polite to listen. Because he wants to know. He opens his eyes and vainly shuts them again. He buries his face in the pillow. Sometimes, his dreams continue when he wakes up too early and goes back to sleep. Isn't hasn't been too long, he can still dream. He can-

He can do nothing but flush in embarrassment as Mother storms in. He's usually dressed by now, but he's still rolling bed. His eyes are red- she's told him not to scratch them if they itch!

He apologizes. He quickly dresses and eats his breakfast.

He must have overslept, but he feels so tired.

~ ~ ~

"Hello."

A girl smiles at him like an old friend, like a child of one of Mother's friends dragged along to meet him. She's better at looking enthusiastic than those kids though.

"Hello," he says politely.

"Do you remember me?"

. . .Oh. Oh he's usually good at this. It's been a long time since his mother's had to wear a smile and say his nose is too buried in books to keep names in his head.

Her smile falters a little. "Well, shouldn't expect much from something I might have imagined, I suppose. But anyway! Want to have some fun?"

Fun? No. No, he's busy. Dreadfully busy with-

Papers. Making notes, from the looks of things. A quill is in his hand and so are stacks of parchment so high they sway.

"Why don't you draw?"

Draw? Whatever for?

"For fun!"

He doesn't have time for fun. Can't she see that? He has so much to catch up on-

"And done!"

"What?"

"Done," she replies. And the paper pillar is indeed gone. That's not right, he was supposed to do that-

"Doesn't matter. Hey, won't you draw something?"

"Why should I?"

She hums. "Because you owe me?"

"Why would I owe you anything?"

"Your done with the papers, aren't you?"

He would have liked to finish that on his own time, with his own skill, but if she did all that for him. . .he must be in her debt.

"Alright," he says, and he thinks her her smile falters for a bit. He turns his eyes to the paper. "What do you want me to draw?"

He might not be very good at it-

"It's alright if you're not," she says, and it flickers a memory of a thought of an instinct into his head.

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

She tilts her head. "Because I want to. Can't you hear me thinking?"

He shakes his head. He thinks he does, anyway. Everything feels fuzzy.

"You can if you want to," she says. "You can do anything if you want to. That's how this works."

"How what works?"

She looks at him for a long while, or maybe just a second. Time is so strange.

"I hope I see you again," she says. "Or make you up again. You're interesting."

"Can't you ever answer me straight?"

She sighs a little, and mumbles an answer too soft.

"What?"

She leans close and looks his face without looking at him, the way Mother looks when she's studying something.

"How dreaming works, silly," she says at last.

Dreaming. Dreaming? So this is all in his head, and he's actually asleep? So he's-

He's awake in his bed. It's dark still. Night-dark, not dawn-dark.

He's dreaming. He was dreaming. He woke up, but he has fragments of nonsense in recent memory, so clearly, he dreamed. He saw something before he woke up. But something about the word-

Dreaming. Dreaming. Was he dreaming about dreaming? How peculiar.

He drifts back to sleep, thinking about dreams, but he can't remember a thing when he wakes up again, daylight filling his eyes.

~ ~ ~

He's in the library. He's always in the library, these days.He has to study, but the books are too heavy to carry back and forth, and Mother likes things in their proper places. These books seem to go on forever though- does he have to read them all? He reaches up to start on one related to a topic he thinks he remembers, but it falls, and something like a puzzle piece falls too and jostles a thought.

Hasn't this happened before?

A library like this, a book like this. The only thing missing-

Something else happened right?

He should study. He should. But he can take a moment to think, can't he? There's something, someone-

"Oh. It's been a while."

The upper half of a girl dangles from the shelf above him. It doesn't look like a particularly comfortable position, but she seems at as much ease as a lounging cat.

"I know you," he says.

She humphs. "Do you?"

"I think so, yes."

"I think so. . .well, I think you up, you think me up- I guess that's as good an answer as we'll ever get."

He frowns. He's not very fond of answers like that. He scores better at clear-cut, objective items like true-or-false and multiple choice.

"You always have exams on the brain, don't you? You're always studying."

"It's good to be ready."

She waves a hand dismissively. "This isn't good for anything."

Something hot sparks in his chest. "It's good for me."

"It just looks sad from where I am."

He glares. She smiles beside him. When did she-?

"But I'm glad to see you again- I wonder what kind of thought you are."

What does that even mean?

"Whatever you want," she says. "Don't think about it too much though. You think too much already."

"Better than never thinking like you."

It's rude, childish venom. And he's spat it at a girl. Remorse bites him immediately. If she tells on him, Mother will-

She laughs. "I won't tattle. I'm not a snitch. I couldn't if I wanted to anyway."

That's a relief. It is a relief, isn't it? Still, he should apologize-

"It's fine. I don't care."

It would be nice if he could just stop caring too. But he has things to do. He has to things to think about- lesson plans and tests and-

Then, he's in a garden. There are flamingoes and hedgehogs and crooked, striped loops on the ground.

"Is this what you like?"

He blinks. The world seems wobbly, somehow.

"I don't know how this all works. Is it a game? Can you teach me?"

"Teach you what?"

"This. The thing with-" she mimes something like a golf swing. "You uh, hit the hedgehogs right?"

He looks again, at the place they're in now. ". .this is croquet?"

"Is it?"

"It doesn't look right."

"What would make it look right?"

He tells her. A tricky but reasonable path. Differently-colored flamingoes and hedgehogs. A gentle tap to send the creatures rolling harmlessly through hoops. She's not very good at it, but he wasn't either when he started.

"This is hard."

"You'll get better with practice."

Her hedgehog scampers away into a bush. She pouts. "This is fun to you?"

"It's better with more people."

"Like your friends?"

He isn't as sad as he usually feels, when he thinks about them. His feelings seem like they're swimming through syrup to get anywhere.

"You can make them."

"Hmm?"

"Think about your friends. What are they like?"

What they're like? They're nice. They're warm. They're golden afternoons and playful shoving and cheering and tag and croquet. Stories and sneaking out and-

"Riddle!"

Arms surround him. Two pairs of golden eyes meet his. Their smiles- Trey's and Che'nya's- are infectuous. He feels a little like crying. His friends don't mention it, if tears do fall. They pull him along to-

Wait. Wait there's-

There's a girl in the garden, watching them. She looks at them without looking at them.

She looks familiar, somehow.

"Hello," he says. "Do you want to join us?"

She blinks, then looks at him for a long while. It should feel awkward, the silent staring, but it doesn't. Something about inviting her feels right, like a favor for a favor.

". . .do you want me to? I'm very bad at it."

"You'll get better with practice."

She smiles, just a little. "Maybe you'll get better at this too."

He helps her up. "At. . .?"

"Nothing," she replies, smiling impishly. "A-ny-way~ these are your friends? They look stranger than you."

"What's so odd about them?" And what's so odd about him?

She gives him a look. "One had green hair and the other has kitty ears."

"That's unusual to you?"

"I suppose not. Not here, if they're not to you. Can you introduce me to them?"

He does. She introduces herself too, but her name slips from his mind every time he tries to call it.

Later, when he's awake, much later when he's finished dinner, he has a fleeting thought about Trey and Che'nya as he eats fresh, plump strawberries for dessert, and he feels like he's missing a name, though he's quite sure it was only ever the three of them.

~ ~ ~

He never remembers her name. Not when dreaming and definitely not when awake, but one day he wakes up, and he remembers her.

He can't recall her name, or her face or anything that would be that helpful or concrete a memory, but he remembers that she was there. And he recalls other dreams, for a moment. He grabs a piece of pad paper from his desk and writes that out, that he dreamt of Trey and Che'nya and of someone else, a strangely familiar figure.

Other snippets of dreams trickle into memory. A fourth member in games, or a mere spectator. A presence, not constant but not rare. Recollections like snapshots of looking at someone beside him that isn't either of his old friends. It's not any of the daughters of Mother's friends. It's no one he can remember seeing in anything but the nonsense in his head.

He tucks the note in his dresser drawer, and now and then he notes another sighting of her. The lines fill the sheet, and then another, and another, and he rolls up the bundle to tuck away at the very back of the drawer's space.

It's all nonsense, and Mother would prefer he focus on his studies.

~ ~ ~

"I remember you, sometimes."

She hums beside him on the cliff, watching birds race around a bonfire as the tide washes in. "Do you now?"

"Not a lot. I don't even remember you a lot here. But I think I know you exist when I'm awake."

"How nice, that I exist."

". . .do you remember me?"

She spins her finger, and somewhere beyond the briny beach, a whirpool forms. "I remember everything. Not sure if I believe everything though."

"What's there to believe?"

She smiles at him, and he wishes he could remember it as easily as he can remember Trey's and Che'nya's. You should be able to remember the way a friend smiles.

"That you exist," she answers.

"You still don't think I do?"

"That there's a boy with hair as red as you, in a world with magic and mermaids and beastie people?"

"I believe you exist, and you live in a world without magic."

"If you believe in magic, then of course you can believe in anything."

"You dream and do whatever you want in them. Why can't you believe me?"

She huffs and stands to balance on the edge of the cliff ledge. She's not in any real danger (she's better at this whole lucid dreaming matter and conjuring whatever she likes, be it wings or a giant cushion or a soft landing on water hundreds of feet below, and this is a dream), but it still makes him flinch.

"I believe I made you up. And that I made up world like that through someone I made up."

"I'm only ever just a thought to you then?"

She smiles and steps on air to smile down at him. He kicks his legs in the empty space, in waves of a tidepool. She notices the shift and laughs. "Scaredy-cat."

"One who doesn't exist apparently. If I'm just a thought in your head, then your head's telling you not to do such dangerous things."

"Dreams are dreams. Let me do what I like!"

"I don't know how you haven't fallen off a cliff in real life, when you're so used to recklessness."

"Dreams are dreams," she repeats. "And you're here, so I know it's a dream."

She always says it with such finality, that he doesn't exist, and she won't exist to him soon enough, that they'll never see each other outside of a dream nobody really remembers the owner of anymore.

"You should still be careful."

She sighs. "You're still such a bore."

"So why are you here?"

She can walk off if she wants to. She has. He's disappeared on her before too, and kept dreaming elsewhere. Sometimes he's done it on purpose.

The girl shrugs. "It's nice, I guess."

"The seaside?"

The water feels like nothing between his toes, but it sparkles in the setting sun. He imagines some clouds, and cottony masses dot the horizon. He imagines a lighthouse somewhere on a shore, and the structure stands tall somewhere on a outcropping of stone.

She sits beside him, watching what he's forming.

"That you exist," she says. "However much you exist, anyway."

~ ~ ~

He's slipping.

It starts when his practice tests come back just shy of perfect marks when they used to be nothing but straight hundred-percents. His mind drifts when he's given blank boxes for essays. His Unique Magic accuracy seems to be faltering too.

Mother doesn't know what's wrong. She says she does, telling him not to fret and that she'll handle everything, but Riddle can catch the worried weight pulling down her smile. There is something wrong with him, but she doesn't know what.

It's his fault, surely. He must have done something wrong, but he doesn't know what. Mother's giving him the right diet and the right routines and habits. He's taking it all as instructed- the meals he has no appetite for, the medicine as bitter as it is, the lessons that-

He feels listless, yet he's so tired these days. It's too easy to fall asleep. To wake up only to close his eyes again.

It's lazy of him. It's terrible of him. But he's so tired.

After a particularly sudden nosebleed, Riddle's a little happy that Trey and Che'nya can't see him like this, looking so weak. He's a little sad that Trey and Che'nya can't see him like this too. Mother loves him and takes care of him, but it would be nice to have friends fret over him like in storybooks. He shouldn't ask that though. He wouldn't like Mother to think he got sick on purpose just to see them.

~ ~ ~

"It's me, isn't it?"

Riddle pauses. He meant to build up to it, to ask after he's said something.

"You think it's me, anyway."

The world boils around them, snippets of spaces flickering like wisps of steam out a tea kettle.

"You're being ridiculous. How can I make you sick?"

He's tired. When he's tired, he wants to sleep. When he sleeps, he dreams. She makes him want to sleep longer when he wakes up, sometimes. When he closes his eyes after waking, he sees her now. She might not mean to do it, but-

"I don't have magic. I'm not a witch!"

But thunder crashes as rain does. A soft void crawls around him, and he feels a lingering dread.

He's being reasonable. He is. He has to try everything, because he wants to get better. He needs to get better. He needs to be a healer and he needs to get into a good school for that, he needs to have good grades to get into a good school, and he needs to study to-

"It's always studying with you."

His limbs feel heavy. His voice won't come out. There is someone in front of him, there was something he was supposed to say-

"You don't want to see me anymore," she says, plucking the thoughts from his head. The idea's not as terrifying as it should be. The girl doesn't look scary, despite how dangerous everything should be right now, rippling and raining. Despite how frozen he is, unable to do anything but stand and stare as he does when Mother scolds him. Dread (it's dread isn't it? Fright, fear) drips and-

He stands in a garden. A croquet court is set up. It's silent, despite the birdsong he should be hearing. It's cold despite the golden sunlight.

There is someone in front of him. She's familiar, but he can't put a name to it.

"Fine," she says, and something about it makes him as mad and sad as she sounds. Why is she even mad at him? He didn't do anything wrong, he only, he just. . .

. . .he did something, didn't he? . . .why does he feel so rotten?

She turns to leave the garden. "I'm too old for imaginary friends anyway. Get well soon! Have fun with your real friends! I hope all your dumb grades make you happy-"

He doesn't know why he reaches out for the stranger, but he does. Why did he? Why is she here? Did she drop something, did she steal something from the court- there must have been a reason-

She looks at him for a second and an eternity.

Then, she makes a bitter smile and a laugh just as melancholy.

"I can't believe I made up such a dumb story. This is so stupid it's sad."

Before he can think about it, his eyes are caught by a flash of green and purple. His hands clutch nothing as his friends wave at him on the court.

It's his turn, so he flushes a bit from making them wait and runs over. A hedgehog had run away. He didn't manage to catch it but-

Someone whispers, something, maybe a goodbye or sweet dreams, but he doesn't get to turn his head because Trey dashes by him with a cheerful cry of "Tag! You're it!" and he's caught up in the mad dash for Che'nya's tail before the boy can clamber up a tree again.

It's a grand time. It must be, because Trey and Che'nya are there. But he feels the way he does when he's passed a paper and thinks he forgot to check the back for second page of questions, even though he knows he did check.

He wins the game, whatever game it was, something with cards. When he wakes up feeling terrible, it must just be because he misses the other boys.

~ ~ ~

His appetite returns, and so does his focus and energy. He gains an inch over a few weeks, and told he's still growing. The growth spurt ends somewhat abruptly on the earlier side of the average range, but that just means he can fit into all the clothes he had the previous year. Without the need for another round of shopping, he can dedicate himself fully to his studies.

There was something wrong with his diet. Mother says he's growing faster than she anticipated, and that she should have increased his portions sooner. His immune system can recover. Bit by bit, he gets better.

His reaps the rewards for his efforts. He's consistently the top of his class in junior high and passes magical proficiency exams with flying colors. He's an expert at his Unique Magic while his peers have yet to uncover theirs.

It's only natural that he is invited to Night Raven College.

The sleepless nights and countless hours of study were worth it. Mother's rules, the strict regimen, the tears, the tiredness- all of it led him to this victory. He just has to keep it up.

The invitation, expected as it is, brings a proud smile to Mother's face. It turns warm when he assures her he intends to conitnue his streak of excellence. He's done the research, and he's quite certain he'll be in Heartslabyul. With his mastery over his UM, becoming the prefect will be child's play.

He does becomes head of Heartlabyul with relative ease. Leading it to excellence is a bit harder, but Trey is a wonderful surprise and a great help at his side over the first year of his rule. Cater too is useful, his Unique Magic being what it is, though he could work on his laziness. He strives for excellence always. His sets high standards for his dorm, nothing he himself couldn't reach without reason. He is very reasonable- he follows the rules, he studies, he leads.

The first year he heads an entrance ceremony isn't as perfect as it could be, but he does his best to get things in order. An unruly cat cannot ruin his plans. The monster's suspected master is a disruption too, but isn't his concern as long as they're not Heartslabyul or hindering those of his dormitory.

(Still, those eyes linger. They burn the back of his head as he exits the chamber, and though the flames weren't blue, he thinks of a field of fire, of the faceless, formless scribble of a figure in papers he found when cleaning out his drawers when he first packed for NRC.)

Riddle doesn't know if the strange boy is a hindrance quite yet, when the fellow's tangled bimself up with the monster after all and two of the Heartslabyul freshmen too. They're a troublesome set, Ace Trappola and the monster especially, but he can handle it.

He can handle it. He always has, he always can, he always will, yet he's failing somehow, because so many others are failing, because nobody will just follow the rules-

He's doing what's best for the Heartslabyul, he's following the rules so why. . .!

He is humiliated, pelted with trash. And that student that dragged in Heartslabyul freshmen, that nobody, that bad influence, the interloper, he-

He looks at Riddle like he doesn't know a thing. With a curious smile and eyes that say You're slipping so clearly that he hears-

The magicless student has bruises after the incident, and a scar where Riddle tried to gouge those impudent eyes out in his Overblotted frenzy. The student was good at drawing Riddle's ire, at keeping his focus on them as the others helped cut Riddle down from his inkstained throne before it could run red with anyone else's blood.

In the infirmary, the student doesn't particularly seem to care that he spilled hers, or that her secret is out. The girl looks at him as she always has, with achingly familiar eyes and a smile like a friend. Her voice isn't quite as light as it used to be, but he knows it nonetheless, especially now that she's not deepening it.

There's a face to those scribbles now, the reason he hadn't thrown out those pages of nonsense.

"Do you remember me?" she asks, curious and smiling, and for the first time in Riddle's waking life, he truly does.

#twst #twst fanfic #riddle rosehearts #twst yuu #twst yuu oc #twst mc #riddle rosehearts x yuu

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genmaichafan · 8 months ago

Note

FREN! IT’S BEEN A WHILE SINCE WE’VE TALKED!

WHAT IF: Some rando has been trying to flirt with the reader. He seems to be ignoring how uncomfortable the reader is. This makes Donna incredibly jealous, as she doesn’t take kindly to creeps trying to steal away her girlfriend. As such, she TERRIFIES the creep and sweeps her gf home (lots of kisses and fluff ensue).

TY SM

Hello hello friend i have written it sorry i dont think its my best work and i kinda ignored the second half of the prompt because i uhh got lost in the sauce of an idea.

Anyways enjoy.

Donna x f!reader. modern au. sfw.

You had been at the coffee bar for a while now, Donna had just gone out to grab something quickly at the time being.

You loved this coffee shop.

the barista was friendly and always knew your favourite order. The seat you always wanted in the corner was often empty. And most of all it was quiet.

Something both Donna and you appreciated.

But today of all days there was a promotion going on for old brew that seemed to draw in people like crazy.

it was packed.

and worst of all there was this guy here. That seemed to be eying you up and down with a smirk, something in his eyes said he thought you were easy prey.

”donna please come back so we can leave” you whispered under your breath.

”talking to you self pretty lady?”

oh god he actually approached you.

”yeah i like talking to myself and the voices!” You tried to make him think you were mentally unwell so he would leave you alone.

”whoa. Spicy. I like that.”

you internally face palmed. This frat boy was not going to leave you any times soon.

“Yes I actually am waiting for my partner-“

”oh yeah? You guys open or something?”

you hadn’t noticed but donna had been back from whatever errand she had been doing and had heard the very last thing the creepy man said. She was seething beyond repair.

”no we aren’t open.”

”oh you're her partner?”

he eyed her up and down like he did you earlier.

Donna’s response to this was to start speaking tongues of obscure italian. literally cursing the man. Donna was not a witch but she was trying to cast imaginary spells.

to further sell her game she took out her large and intimidating garden pruning sheers and cut off a lock of his hair really quickly. Not before clutching and blowing the lock into his face further selling the gambit.

The gullible man's face was turning more and more pale and when the final move was cast his hands were shaking.

”w-witchcraft!!” He did not think twice about running away.

donna quickly walked up to you. Dropping the facade. Quickly taking up your hands into hers.

”are you okay mi amore?!”

”yes, thanks to you.” You smile was half amusement still remembering the display, and half adoration.

”im glad.” she brought her lips to your quickly, hoping to wipe the remainder of the man’s presence on your mind away.

”what were you going to get?”

”thats a secret. For now.”

”no fair you know i dont like secrets.”

”i know i know but im hoping youll be happy to see it.”

_____

“Are you sure we should go to our secret spot? It’s going to be super dark this time of night.”

”I promise it won't be that bad mi amore.”

Had it been anyone else you would have not believed them. You were heading to a secret alcove in the nearby park that Donna and your friends liked to hang out at but it didn't have much of a way of being illuminated in the dark, but you knew better.

”ok i trust you.”

Donna's response to this was to take your hand and begin racing towards the park pulling you along with her.

you two laughed along the whole way as if playing like children.

_____

When you arrived you didn't want to say it but youre were kinda right.

it was almost pitch black in the hide away and you couldn’t really see anything. Luckily; you could make out certain shapes enough to not fall or trip on anything. Not to mention you suddenly had no idea where Donna was.

”Donna?”

”right here mi amore” she was right behind you.

“What are we doing here today my love?”

”oh you'll see.”

Just like that the lights that had never been here before turned on. The alcove was beautifully decorated to yours and donnas personal tastes almost as if there was going to be a celebration of shorts set up with fairy lights set up with an extra table with Champaign.

before you could even ask what was going on, Donna got down on one knee.

your breath hitched.

”[y/n], will you marry me?”

Somehow you had managed to bring yourself to affirm that you would in-fact love to marry Donna through the shock.

“Yes! I would love to marry you!”

You two quickly brought each other's lips halfway to meet in the middle in union. savoring the moment between you two and the deep connection you shared. Donna smiled so widely when you finally parted that she had to cover her face a bit. A bad habit that she had not managed to nip that you found extremely cute.

”I love you donna.”

”and I love you more than you could ever know.”

#donna beneviento #my fics #resident evil #donna benevento x reader #donna x reader #re8 #re8 donna #house beneviento #modern au #f!reader #sfw #donna x f!reader

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ladylooch · 11 months ago

Text

What We Could Be - [Mack X David]

A/N: I know today is supposed to be an off day but I hope you don't mind if I drop a lil AU treat for ya! These two are about to boil over... And lucky us getting to see it all unfold 😈 Happy Friday!

Word Count: 2.4k

Tucked inside Connor and Lucie’s bathroom, Mackenzie Hischier attempts to collect herself. The water runs ice cold from the faucet, hurting her hands as she puts them through the stream. She gulps down, not quite understand why she is panting. Everything about tonight was supposed to be innocent, but once David put his hand on the small of her back to encourage her into the elevator, the tone shifted. His touch ignited a burning hot wild fire in her core that exploded, consuming everything.

They all ate together at McDonald’s. David helped keep Stella in line when Mack refused to let her play in the germ-infested play place. He went and charmed the counter worker for another pack of BBQ sauce after Stella dumped hers on the ground accidentally. He even got down on that dirty floor and cleaned up the mess, even though Mack insisted she could do it.

“You’re too beautiful to be cleanin’” He winked at her.

“Am I beautiful, Davey!?” Stella asked, patting his arm. He chuckled, that stupid, sweet noise that makes it hard for Mack to breathe, and told Stella she was as beautiful as the sunset on his farm in Iowa.

Again, Mack felt the shift of the world beneath her feet.

The quick walk back to the apartment was filled with Stella insisting on David AND Mack swinging her up every few steps. She squealed and laughed, bringing out a huge grin on David’s face.

“Stell, you’re my favorite little Ranger. Tell the others.” He insisted as he picked her up, maneuvering around a puddle she couldn’t find the courage to walk around.

“You spoil her.” Mack scoffed lightly, shaking her head, but with a small smile on her face.

“Could spoil you too.” He winked as he walked into the apartment building. Mack closed her eyes, assaulted by the wind blowing his piney and fresh cologne into her face. She sighed, then followed behind the two.

“Davey, we are gonna watch Up, yeah!?”

“Well….” He trailed off, looking at Mack. “Sweets, as much as I would love that, it’s not really my night with you. It’s your aunties. I don’t want to take up all your time together.” Stella whipped her head at Mack.

“Auntie, please! Please! Please! Please!” Her bottom lip jutted out, then David did the same exaggerated pout at her. Mack’s dimples hurt from how hard she smiled back at them.

How was she supposed to say no to them?

The rest of the night, Mack felt like a teenager. She made the three of them popcorn. The two adults had settled in on the couch before Stella bopped between them. David laid his arm across the back of the couch. Every so often, his fingers would brush her shoulder, testing the waters until eventually, they just stayed. From there, his fingers rolled along to the back of her neck where he started rubbing soft circles into her skin. As Stella was falling asleep with her feet in David’s lap and her head on Mack’s thigh, Mack was melting into David’s touch.

“She’s asleep.” David said to Mack, jolting her out where she was overthinking the night.

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. She sat up, away from his touch, but his fingers followed, gliding the backs of his knuckles over her spine. “I guess you can leave now.” Mack turned more to the left so his fingers drop off her back and instead fell next to her, behind Stella’s head on her thigh.

“I guess I can.” He nodded, then looked down at Stella. “Should I take her to bed?”

“Um, yeah. That would be great. I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

That cold water Mack was hoping to calm her down quickly lost it’s effect. She tries again, putting her wet palms on either side of her neck. She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply, then exhaling just as hard.

“You’re fine. Stop being so… caught up.” She mutters to her reflection. Annoyance at herself pulls her eyebrows down over her brown eyes. She wipes her hands half-heartedly on the hand towel, then rips the door open. She expects to see David waiting for her in the hallway. But it’s empty. The whole apartment is quiet, except for the light wind of Stella’s air purifier that David must have turned on for her.

Slowly, Mack creeps down the hallway, feeling the need to tip toe to not disturb the silence. Anticipating has pins piercing into her scalp. She comes to the main area and sees David standing, looking out the window with his back to her. She stops by the couch, staring at the back of his wide shoulders. Her fingers graze the leather as a holding spot. He turns, seeing her in the glass in front of him. Their eyes meet. Lust burns between them like a welcomed friend. Mack’s hands ball into fists by her hips. David cocks a “Whats it gonna be” eyebrow at her.

“Ugh.” She groans then rushes forward, collapsing fully into her lust. David grins, catching her effortlessly in his strong, farm arms. Her legs wrap around him, tightening her to his abdomen.

“Knew you couldn’t resist me, honey.” He whispers, then shoves his tongue into her mouth.

A hot and heavy make out session consumes them both. The temperature between their bodies sky rockets. Mack pants, licking his tongue as he walks them to the couch. He sits down on it, bringing her into his lap. She puts her hands on either side of his neck, tilting her face to get more of his mouth on hers. Thing tongues fight for control and possession of each other’s mouthes until they need air.

“Fuck.” She moans as he kisses along her jaw.

“I need an answer. Are we doing this?” He mumbles. Mack shudders at the feeling of his facial hair tickling in the crook on her shoulder and neck. Between her thighs, she can feel his huge bulge pushing into her soaked heat.

“Mmmm…” She inhales deeply, then arches her breasts into his chin. He pulls away, laughing at her blissed out look above him.

“Is that a yes?”

“Just kiss me.” Mack mumbles, gripping his face again with both hands. She rises a bit on her knees, shoving her tongue until it is practically down his throat. David’s hands move from her hips to her ass. He presses her into his erection. Mack gasps.

“You feel that baby? Been hard for you all week. Fucked my hand thinking of you the other night.” His intimate confession has a loud moan pushing from Mack’s mouth. He rolls her over his clothed cock again and Mack can feel the coil tighten inside her. He rolls her hips slower this time, torturous, over and over again as they make out like their 16 years olds, dry humping on her parents’ couch. Mack shudders, widening her thighs for him to press him deeper into her clit. “Show me how bad you want this cock in your wet pussy. Can feel how wet you are, honey. Need to feel you soon. Not gonna live if I don’t.”

Mack does as he asks, taking control of her hips back from him. She unabashedly rocks into his thick cock, annoyed by the fabric of her leggings covering her desperate heat. David moves a hand to her stomach and lower back, pushing her up so he can get his hand under her shirt. He grips her breast over her bra, then folds the cup down, thumbing her nipple. Mack could come right there. Her head falls back, Then she gasps in surprise when he stills.

“What the-”

“Shhhh.” Davey coos. “I can hear Lucie’s laugh.” Mack pauses, hearing it too now.

“Fuck.” She mutters, falling off David onto the leather couch. She adjusts her shirt, then looks at him with unsure eyes. He stands, a massive erection extending the zipper on his jeans. She bites her lip, staring at it, then drags her gaze up to meet his with wide eyes. He grins back at her, seeing the curiosity and need shining in her brown orbs.

“Sorry to leave you alone but I’ve gotta take care of this in the bathroom.” He calmly walks down to the bathroom. Mack smoothes out her hair, then wipes her face off with the back of her hand. She can feel the scratchy irritation from his mustache rubbing against her skin.

The apartment door bursts open and Mack’s anxiety eases. From her place on the couch, she can see the glassy eyes of her sister and brother-in-law. Their loaded with alcohol and likely won’t be asking too many questions.

“Mackie!!!!!” Lucie wails loudly. Mack cringes, glancing towards the hallway. Hopefully Stella stays asleep. Lucie stumbles towards her, then collapses onto Mack, pinning her into the couch. Mack’s heart pounds in her chest with how close Lucie looks at her face. “How was she?” Lucie asks, eyes slightly downturned, breath reeking of whiskey.

“A true angel.”

“Good.” Lucie mumbles, drunk smile on her lips. She looks down at Mack’s neck, eyebrows furrowing. “Whass dat?” She strokes a spot Mack can remember David’s teeth nibbling on moments ago.

“I scratched myself.” Mack says dumbly. Drunk Lucie doesn’t seem to notice.

“Mmm gotta be careful.” Lucie murmurs, putting her head on Mack’s chest. Connor comes to sit on the couch by their feet. Him and Mack make eye contract. He looks slightly more sober, but not much.

“Leave.” He mouths at Mack. She purses her lips against a laugh. “Now.” He continues, then jerks his thumb towards the door. Mack looks down at Lucie, seeing her eyes closed as she sighs. Yeah, Mack should go. Connor has about ten minutes left of his wife before his chances of getting laid close. Mack moves to get up, but Lucie squishes her back down.

“No! We never snuggle anymore! Wanna snuggle with you.” Mack cringes at Connor. She is saved from further commentary by David coming out of the bathroom. Both Lucie and Connor turn towards the hallway. Neither of them expect David.

“Hi mom and dad.” Mack glances down at his crotch, not seeing the huge problem that had gone into the bathroom with him. The thought of him touching himself to her has her getting hot again. She bites her lip when their eyes meet. Connor’s nose scrunches and he glances over at the two Hischier women.

“Ohhhhh! I forgot to tell you Mack was watching Stell!” Lucie starts to laugh. “Well at least you two didn’t kill each other in front of our daughter.”

“We thought about it tho.” Davey smiles, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Dude you didn’t have to stay. You could have left and did something else with your night.” Connor says around a yawn.

“Mack insisted I stay.” David says. Both Connor and Lucie laugh in disbelief. Mack gives him a nervous look. He throws her a minuscule wink, one neither of the drunkies in the room see.

“No. More like Stella dragged him in here.” Mack responds, cupping her neck where she can feel her neck pulsing under his bite mark.

“Please give my condolences to Lio for moving out of favorite uncle status.” David laughs as he walks to where his jacket and shoes were tossed earlier.

“He would die.” Lucie murmurs, snuggling into Mack, cute little yawn stretching her lips “Thanks, Davey.”

“Anytime, Luc.” He smiles. “You all have a good night.” He seemingly addresses the whole room, but his eyes stay on Mack.

Mack wants to follow him. She wants to run down the floors of this building until she gets to his with him, so she can peel away the layers of clothing between them and find out once and for all how it would feel to be touched by him. Instead, her older sister mumbles to her.

“Wanna watch Lion King?” It’s the most nostalgic movie for them.

“Sure.” Mack answers. Connor sighs dramatically. He broke up her fun; it’s only fair to return the favor.

“I’m going to bed.” He mumbles, patting Lucie’s ass. “Goodnight girls.” He calls lamely over his shoulder.

It takes five minutes before Lucie falls asleep. Mack is up the entire time, even after the final credits roll. The Disney logo bounces around the screen as she replays the night in her mind like it’s her new favorite movie. She bites her lip, then rolls onto her side.

Lucie had sat up long ago, curling into the other side of the couch, still fully clothed in her date night outfit, including her high heeled boots. Mack isn’t surprised to see Connor shuffle sleepily out, scooping her up and disappearing back down the hall. He hates sleeping without her. Mack smiles softly, watching as he cradles her close to him, then whispers another goodnight to Mack after verifying she is staying over. She nods to him. It’s too late for her to go home now.

Mack is about to fall asleep when her phone illuminates in the dark room. She reaches for it, squinting at the bright screen as she reads. Every cell in her body stands to attention when she reads:

No more messing around, Mackncheese. I’m done being nice. You better give me an answer soon.

That a threat? Mack types back

Yeah.

What if my answer is no?

You’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what we could have been. Mack smiles at that. He should come off as so arrogant. Admittedly he would have a few weeks ago, yet he has a steady confidence she has secretly yearned for in a man.

And if my answer is yes? Her heart pounds as she watches his reply bubble pop up.

I’ll ruin you for anyone else.

Mack moans, covering her face with her hand. Then she peeps through her fingers so she can re-read his message. Her heartbeat swooshes in her ears, thinking about what she felt on the couch earlier. The all consuming desire that she didn’t even hesitate running full tilt towards. Lustfully, she wants to throw her caution to the wind. But deep in her gut, a terror runs free, whispering that he is too dangerous, too much for her. The things she feels for him are so strong. They have swayed abruptly from contempt to yearning. She can’t trust these feelings. It isn’t safe.

Mack puts her phone down, laying her head back down on the pillow with a heavy sigh. She wraps her arms around herself, staring at the ceiling while gripping the sleeves of her sweatshirt.

Hold or leap?

It seems so simple.

Yet Mack can’t help but feel like she’s choosing for the rest of her life.

#Mackdavid au

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testingthewatersss · 1 year ago

Text

I never lost him Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture, etc. Just unapologetic cuddling and comfort ft. Steve Rodgers. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 4 2960 words fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI Post TWS Steve realises that he's not the only one looking for Sargent Barnes. Reader is Tony’s sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who recently resurfaced.

It turns out, Bucky has cooked.

When Y/N turns up outside the safe house, hiding from the rain under the door frame, it’s already getting dark.

She knocks three times, and hears the chain being slid across a second before the door opens just wide enough, for her to see his face, smiling shyly in the crack.

“Hey, doll” he murmurs, ushering her inside;

She wastes no time in throwing her soaked leather jacket to the floor, pulling her hair down from the pony tail it’s been in for most of the afternoon.

When she looks up again, she sees him stood, watching her nervously from his position.

“Sweetheart” she coos, reaching over to hold his hands, “What’s that face for?”

The pout he’s wearing is blatant. He tries to mask it by faking a tight lipped smile.

Metal fingers curl around her own, he shifts a little, trying to coax her into a hug.

“Missed you today” is what he manages to whisper into her hair, when she finally takes the hint, and shuffles into his chest, “I…I made dinner, I-I’m not sure if it’s edible yet, but uh- I tried.”

Y/N can feel his heart hammering, his pulse is racing. She presses her lips against his throat, kissing it gently.

He gulps, eyes fluttering shut at the contact.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine” she tells him quietly, “and if it isn’t- we’ll order in”

He chuckles silently, nuzzling into her the best he can.

She can smell adrenaline on his skin, she can sense the anxiousness in his posture.

It’s heart wrenching.

“What’s the matter?” she murmurs, pulling back to consider him properly, “Huh, Buck? What’s gotten you so upset today?”

Her palms are hot on his cheeks now, even though he doesn’t remember letting them go.

“…I…” he begins, “I… just, I’ve missed you…”

That’s the same answer as the one he’d given her before, but it sounds different some how. It sounds sadder, and all she can think to do is lean up to kiss him.

He whimpers against her lips, holding her against him for as long as he can, earnestly relishing in the affection.

“‘m here now” she says, “‘m not goin’ anywhere, okay?”

Bucky feels himself nodding, brain still half in a daze from the contact.

The meal he’s made is edible.

It’s pasta, with a sauce he’d found the recipe for in the back of one of Y/N’s magazines.

They hadn’t had any double cream, so he’d used half and half, and he’d never heard of the cheese they’d suggested, so he’d left that out all together.

“It’s good” Y/N beams, “It’s really good, Buck”

He blushes down at her- she’s half in his lap, his arm is draped around her waist as he picks at his own plate with absolute disinterest.

It’s her he’s focused on, the weight of her is grounding, she’s warm and real and lovely.

He’d never eat again, if it meant she’d stay by his side.

She doesn’t want that, though, he knows she worries about him, so he feeds himself mechanically, whilst letting his gaze linger on her face.

The radio is playing a soft song he doesn’t recognise, and the hazy light that had been coming through the cracks in the blinds is gone completely, meaning its only the one, orange desk lamp illuminating the space.

Once the plates are washed and dried, and she’s back, curled up against his chest, she decides to broach the subject she’s been waiting to bring up;

“I spoke to Steve today”

He tenses a little, but his fingers continue trailing up, and down her arm.

“I should hope so, doll” he jokes, “since you’re livin’ with the guy”

“You know what I mean” she jests, shifting a little so they’re face to face, “I told you earlier, he read the file, and the letter.”

He sighs, letting his eyes close for a second as his brow falls against hers.

“He’s not upset with you” she tells him, “He knows it wasn’t your fault”

Bucky feels himself grimace. He wants to argue but knows rehashing everything would be pointless.

“and” Y/N continues, “I spoke to Tony- about you coming back with me.”

She watches him freeze. The shift in him is instant, even in the poor lighting.

He stammers out an “I can’t” before stealing his jaw, nostrils flaring as he sucks in deep breathes through his nose, to try and stop himself from hyperventilating.

“Bucky-”

“I-I-I, oh, oh god-”

“Stop” she insists, reaching up to stroke his cheeks, “please don’t panic”

He’s way past panicking.

He can barely think, anymore.

His lip quivers, he grits his teeth, and screws his eyes shut for a second, before he blinks them open, wide and petrified as he looks at her.

Her chest aches.

“….I can’t keep leavin’ you here, sweetheart…”

Her voice is almost a purr, her fingers are still tracing his face

“….and it’s safer, it’s so much safer at the tower…”

Bucky is still watching her like a wounded stray. He’s totally torn between wanting to cower in a corner, and wanting to hold her tighter, and beg her never to leave him alone again.

“…I promise, baby, it’ll be okay, everything’s alright-”

“-Y-you’re brother—and- and, Steve and, the- the others I- I don't think-”

“My brother” she soothes, her thumb brushing over his chin, “has a hot temper, but he gets it now, Buck and Steve, loves you, he just wants you safe-”

His head shakes a fraction, as if too fight off the temptation her words are breading in his core.

There isn’t anything he wants more than to believe that he could stand a chance at being safe, and happy with her, without having to dread the moment she has to go, and leave him alone in world he barely understands.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me this is working for you.”

Her voice snaps him back to reality, the room that’s so familiar seems to melt away, and suddenly, all Bucky can see is Y/N, the woman he loves so desperately.

He wants to assure her that he’s okay. That he’s coping on his own, with her visiting whenever they have time.

He thinks, she’d be proud of him, if that was true, and that’s all he wants, but it’s not, it’s not true at all, so the words won’t come. He just blinks at her, and feels tears filling his eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart-” Y/N soothes, seeing his devastation increasing so rapidly, “-You’re alright-”

“I’m sorry” he whispers, voice cracking, “I-I’m s-sorry”

Her head shakes, she guides him in for a hug, letting her hands slip around to his back a split second before it starts to heave.

It’s almost instant, Bucky suddenly feels like a such disappointment- Being unable to convince her of his well-being has made him so hyper aware of his real, glaring fear that she’s going to see him the way he sees himself, as something that’s broken, that’s been used and discarded.

He really is sorry. He feels like such a burden that he can take it, he tries to apologise again, but he knows he’s not actually speaking out-loud.

That only intensifies his need to plead for forgiveness, his mouth is bone dry- the plates in his arms fold down with metallic grating, moan.

“You haven’t done anythin’ wrong” Y/N tells him, knowing he needs to hear it, “You don’t have to be sorry, baby, I promise, it’s okay-”

He starts to sob, burying his nose in her neck, clinging to her shirt like a child.

She’s telling him it’s okay. The idea of her abandoning him is intolerable. She’s the only thing making it anywhere close to okay.

“I know your scared-”

“I-I don’t-I-I can’t be on m-my own a-anymore-I- I- I can’t- it-it’s-too, too much-don’t- god, please-doll, p-please don’t leave me-”

The confession and request come quickly, before he can swallow them down-

It sickens him to hear it, to hear himself gushing like that, along side fractured whimpers.

“I know it’s too much” Y/N agrees, still stroking across the back of his ribs, “I know it is, I’m not goin’ anywhere, I promise, take some deep breathes for me, okay? I’m not leaving you here, again.”

He clutches her tighter. Nodding to try and convince himself that she means what she’s saying.

She won’t leave me, She won’t leave me, She won’t leave me, She won’t leave me.

Those words loop around his head like a prayer, they fight against the bitter sting of fear that’s made it’s home in his chest.

His lungs hurt, he’s gasping and choking on air, but she’s asked him to try and breathe deeply, and so he does, he does his best not to splutter too much on the exhale.

“I love you” he cries, needing her to know, “I -l-love you, I- I’m sorry-I- I’m sorry I’m like this- I-I’m tryin’- I’m tryin’ to b-breathe-”

Her head shakes, she hushes him and tells him that she loves him too, that she knows how hard it is for him, right now.

“I-I’ll try- w- with you” he stammers, “I-I’ll do-what-whatever you want”

Her lips meet his tearstained cheek. She shakes her head again.

“We’ll talk about it when you’re feelin’ better” she murmurs, “We have options, it’s not just my choice”

Bucky sniffs bravely, pulling back from the safe space he’s found in the crook of Y/N’s neck.

His eyes are blood-shot, lashes wet, a tear rolls off his nose, even more stream down his cheeks in uneven rivets.

“Hey, handsome” she coos, running her hands across from the nape of his neck, so that she can start to clean his face with her palms, “shall we get you some water?”

The shake of his head is slow, he sniffles again, gulping.

“I…I- love you”

Even with the waiver in his voice, Y/N can’t help but smile as leans in, kissing his brow.

It’s warm, he leans into the contact.

“I love you too” she promises, using her sleeve to swipe under his eyes, “That’s why, I think we should talk about this another time.”

He shakes his head, and she can’t help but sigh.

Despite his emotional condition she knows he’s too stubborn to leave this undecided, she knows he won’t settle until they’ve gotten a plan in place.

She can’t blame him really, anxiety is something he has enough of already, without any unanswered questions nagging at his mind.

“‘m not gonna’- gonna- feel any better-‘bout it tomorrow- it-it’s always- it’s always gonna make-make me-“

“Alright” Y/N concedes, “Alright, let’s talk options.”

He nods, taking deliberately controlled breathes.

“I’m not leaving here on your own anymore-” she tells him, “- so, that’s off the table”

A tear falls from his lashes as he blinks. The urge to apologise again is almost intolerable, he feels totally responsible for their having to be options at all.

“I can move back in here” Y/N adds next, “or, we could find our own place, somewhere new-”

Instantly, he shakes his head again;

“I- I can’t take- take you away from your brother like-like that- I- can’t be the reason he loses y-you too-”

“I’m a grown woman” she replies calmly, “and he’s not losing me, just because I stop living in the same house, just like you don’t lose me, when I’m not spending the night.”

She leans in, her palms drift down to his jaw and she rubs her nose against his, knowing he needs the affection to stay grounded.

He does need it. He feels his fingers furling against her hips, even though he doesn’t remember placing them there.

“I-I don’t-I don’t want you to m-move for me” he whispers, “I k-know you work from the labs there- I-I know- how important it- it is for you to be there”

“You-” she says,”-are important to me.”

He feels his cheeks prickling, he’s sure that if he wasn’t already flushed, he’d be blushing.

“I’m just scared- Y/N/N-“ he hears himself say, “-I know it-it makes sense, me- me comin’ back with you, but- there- there are so many people, there-and I- I- did- I did so many things the-they all-”

“Every single person in that building knows you didn’t mean to do anything.”

Bucky's gaze drops again, he looks small, she thinks, he looks lost and vulnerable.

She swipes her thumbs up over his cheek bones, trying to coax it back to her;

“I didn’t mean too” he agrees quietly, before blinking back at her, “but I did, I did do it, Y/N- I- I killed all those people, y-youre parents and-I-I- shot Natasha, and I- I made Steve-“

“Stop”

He does stop. His words die in his throat.

“It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart” she soothes, feeling his neck start to droop, “I know it hurts, I know it feels like it was, but I promise you- it wasn’t.”

She takes his silence as a victory.

“Is Tony, who you’re most worried about?”

Surprisingly, she believes him, when he whispers out a “No”

“‘m not worried ‘bout him” he continues, “he, he can hate me all h-he want’s I-I don’t- don’t blame him, a-and I- I-I think if he w-wanted me dead- he’d have killed me already-”

“he doesn’t want you dead”

“He should.”

“Well” she sighs, “he doesn’t, and it wouldn’t matter, even if he did, because contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t get everything he wants.”

Bucky forces a tight lipped smile, and feels his head throbbing.

“Baby, what is it that’s gotten you so worked up about this? Yesterday, you said you just wanted Steve to be sure about you comin’ in”

“I know” he agrees, guilty again, “I just-I- I didn’t know h-how-I-I’d feel w-when I- when I knew he’d read th-that file”

“I did tell ya’ that awful was probably the most likely”

That makes him scoff, sad but agreeing.

She had warned him, she’d sat with him and explained how terrible it was going to be for him to know that his oldest friend knew the details in those papers, even if they were far from comprehensive.

“and the letter could’ve been less emotive”

He actually manages to roll his eyes at that, which makes a small smile creep across her lips.

“Y-you said he was okay?”

“He’s fine” she affirms, “He’s worried about you, Buck- that’s all- he just wants to know you’re alright”

“He wants to see me” he counters, “that’s why he’s been’ makin’ Romanoff help him track me for the past 4 months”

“Well, I think he’d like to see you, yes” she agrees, “but he’s promised to be patient, I could smuggle you into the room and I’d trust him to stay away-”

“That’d be cruel- kids got no self control, he’d go mad tryin’ to keep that promise”

There’s a jovial lilt to his voice that she loves, she pecks a kiss to his cheek, and is pleased to feel that they’re not nearly as hot as they were a few moments before.

“Then you let him see you” she suggests, “he knows you need space, I really think once he sees you, Buck- When he realises you’re alright, he’ll be better about not bein’ so mother-hen-”

“You don’t know him like I do” he says, “He’s real loyal-he’s- he feels so responsible-“

“You’re both as bad as each other”

He looks at her, considerate, but quiet.

“I don’t know where you both got this obsession with holdin’ yourselves’ accountable for things’ you had no control over- Nothing that happened after you fell was your fault, and I don’t even know where to start on his feelin’ guilty’ bout it all”

Y/N runs a hand through her hair, when she’s finished speaking. She returns it to it’s previous spot agains’t cheek. He turns to kiss at her fingers.

She curls her thumb over his lips, letting him nuzzle into her wrist.

“I’ll- I’ll try- I’ll try it out”

Her head tilts when she catches his words.

“I- I’ll try, at the tower, doll but- but if it’s too much-”

“then we’ll figure somethin’ else out.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

The promise she makes comes easy. It’s clear he’s been drained by the entire interaction. The hollows under his eyes are dark, and deeper than they’ve been in a while.

“Baby, did you sleep at all last night?”

He squints at her, before shaking his head, nose tickling her palm.

Her brow furrows, concern shining behind the brown eyes she shares with her brother.

She knows he didn’t get more than a few hours the day before; when she thinks back, that must mean it’s been at least a week since he’s gotten a decent nights rest.

“Well that makes our next decision a hell of a lot easier than the last one”

He looks at her, expression muddled.

“We’re gettin’ an early night”

Y/N isn’t sure wether it’s relief or reluctance that creeps onto his face, but with his hair hanging half in front of his eyes, it’s hard for her to tell.

So, she cards it back, rubbing his temple with her thumb.

“You’re exhausted” she notes quietly, “we’ve eaten, we’ve cleaned up, there isn’t anythin’ else we need to talk about, other than how much better you’re gettin’ a cookin’”

He scoffs again, and reaches up to tangle their fingers together.

The pair manage to sleep relatively well. Bucky drifts off quickly, and even though his unconsciousness is very, very fragile, when he does startle himself awake during the night, he finds Y/N’s arms still looped around him, and he’s able to bury his face against her chest, and lull himself back to sleep.

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