#and forever framed for me to wonder upon

[helaintoloki]

Lowkey feel like if reader got bucky a fake flower (without bucky knowing it was fake) he would water it and reader would laugh their ass off whilst finding out about that

a/n: I love silly prompts like this so thank you for sending it in! hope you enjoy :)

warnings/notes: none!

summary: a sweet gesture leads to a moment of embarrassment for your husband

Bucky sinks into his chair with a long sigh- it’s been an exhausting day, and it’s only noon. He’d severely underestimated how grueling a congressman’s job could be, and he was starting to wonder if he’d made the wrong career choice.

Tiredly running a hand down his face, the former soldier leans back in his seat and lets his gaze fall upon the photo frame resting on the corner of his desk. The sight of your smile immediately alleviates some of the tension from his body, and Bucky is grateful for the fact that your portrait can provide him some solace in your absence. His busy schedule doesn’t m allow for the two of you to spend as much time together as you once did, and he misses you when he’s away at work.

The only thing keeping him together at this point in time is the fact that you’ll be joining him for lunch during a rare break in his schedule. Bucky had moved heaven and earth to clear just enough time in his day for you, and now that the hour of your arrival was inching closer and closer he found himself antsy to have you in his arms once more.

You both agreed on the fact that you wanted your time spent together to be a private affair away from prying reporters and journalists, so you offered to pick up the food on your way there. In the meantime, Bucky busied himself with tidying up the mess of documents on his desk and fixing the disorganized state of his office.

A knock on the door prompts him to halt his ministrations, his heart leaping in his chest with excitement as he watches the door open with baited breath. However, it isn’t you that stands on the other side, and he finds himself deflating with disappointment.

“Don’t be so excited to see me,” Sam quips sarcastically while shutting the door behind him. Despite his initial annoyance, Bucky manages to let out a chuckle at his friend’s comment.

“I thought it was y/n,” he admits with a shake of his head before making his way across the room to greet Sam with a hug. “We’re supposed to have lunch. What are you doing here?”

“I was in the area and figured I’d stop by. How are you holding up?”

“As best as I can given the circumstances,” Bucky admits with a meager huff. “This whole thing is more overwhelming than I ever could have imagined. If not for my endlessly loving and supportive wife I think I’d go insane.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Sam assures him with a hearty clap to his shoulder. “After all, you’ve gotten this far.”

Bucky flashes his friend a faint smile before resuming his earlier work of tidying up the office. Sam simply watches on in silence at first, though his interest is piqued when the congressman picks up a small watering can and begins to tend to the pot of sunflowers resting by the window.

“Didn’t take you for a gardener,” he points out with a raised brow. Bucky falters momentarily in response, features becoming sheepish as he clears his throat and sets the can down.

“I’m not, but they were a gift from y/n. She said they’d brighten up the place. Least I can do is water them.”

“She’s got you all soft,” Sam says with a smirk while walking over to the window to admire the plant. “You’re not as moody now that you’re a husband.”

“What can I say? I love my wife,” Bucky expresses fondly at the mention of you. It was true what Sam said; you’d changed him for the better, and he’d forever be grateful for the fact you’d said yes to him when he’d gotten down on one knee all those years ago.

Too busy reminiscing on your relationship, Bucky fails to notice the way Sam curiously inspects the petals of the plant. The Captain’s brows furrow with his doubtful expression as he scrutinizes the texture of the flower, and just as he makes a realization that will most definitely embarrass his friend the door swings open once more.

“Oh, hi, Sam!” You greet cheerfully despite the multiple bags of takeout you juggle in your hands. Shutting the door behind you with your foot, you set the food down before happily throwing your arms around him for a hug. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I guess it’s a good thing I over ordered. You hungry?”

“I’m just stopping by,” he informs you with a knowing grin before releasing you so that you can greet your husband.

Bucky practically melts at the feel of you against him when you let him pull you in close by the waist and press his lips against your own in a loving kiss. He keeps it short due to the fact that you have company, but his hands never leave your hips as he drinks in the sight of you and your natural beauty.

“You sure you can’t stay?” You prompt with a small frown, and though Sam hates to disappoint you he knows how Bucky cherishes his time alone with you.

“Another time,” he promises as he begins to make his exit. However, he hesitates slightly before pausing in the doorway with a mischievous smirk. “Before I forget, I wanted to compliment your taste in decor. Those flowers really do brighten up the place.”

“I knew they would,” you express with a proud smile while casting your gaze towards the pot.

“They seem to hold up really well,” Sam goads, discreetly chancing a glance over at Bucky. The super soldier in question raises a brow in time with the purse of his lips.

“Of course they do. I make sure they get enough sunlight and water every day,” he says plainly, almost offended at the thought of his ability to maintain the flowers coming as a surprise.

“Wait, what?” You retort in confusion, eyebrows creasing together with uncertainty as you turn to look at your husband. “You water them?”

“Every day,” Bucky restates with a proud smile that immediately vanishes at the sound of your laughter alongside Sam’s. The man is doubled over in the doorway, one hand clutching his stomach while the other holds onto the frame, and you aren’t fairing much better by the way you grip onto Bucky’s bicep to keep yourself from keeling over.

“What? What’s so funny?” Bucky retorts defensively only to be met with more laughter.

“Oh, James,” you coo breathlessly after finally composing yourself, gently wiping away the tears that had formed before pressing a loving kiss to his cheek. “Honey, those flowers are fake. You don’t need to water them.”

“Man, you’ve really outdone yourself this time,” Sam pokes fun despite the glare he receives in return. “Thanks for the laugh, big guy.”

Bucky deflates with embarrassment once Sam makes his exit, but he’s able to get over it pretty quickly when you pull him down by the tie for another kiss.

“I think it’s sweet,” you assure him while gently resting a hand on his cheek. “I’m glad to know you cared that much about them.”

“How could I not care when they came from my best girl?” He notes fondly while brushing back the hair from your face. You let out an appreciative hum and grant him one more kiss before finally pulling away to get settled for lunch.

After the fake flower fiasco, you go out of your way to get Bucky a real pot of flowers for him to water and enjoy, though Sam makes sure he’s never able to live the mistake down for the rest of his time in office.

[sonarspace]

love sick king, sukuna

wc: 1.6k content: soft sukuna. just sukuna being in love. and slight nsfw. not proofread as usual. a/n: thinking of sukuna and how over in his head he would be when you first start dating cause you mean so much to him and he just wants to get it right.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

your first kiss. lips soft against his. he can taste the cherry chapstick when his tongue lulls out over your lips asking to be let in. a soft groan eliciting from him at the touch of your tongues. but he doesn’t push you further. he pulls back, eyes dilated. “we should stop..” he whispers. his thumb caressing your swollen lips. “okay. goodnight,” you chirp opening the door to your room and slipping in.

he walks back to his room. only thought in his head was your lips. he spends his night thinking about the kiss. wondering if you were too.

he steals glances when you serve him and his men dinner. not that you did this very often, only when you wanted to see him be a love sick puppy. he asks you to bring him the bread plate. “can i get some bread rolls, please?” he asks looking your way. his politeness while speaking to you doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the table. usually he would command not ask. they silently smirk at seeing him behave this way. their king had fallen in love.

his fingers lightly touch yours. electricity coursing through both your bodies. a blush creeps on his face as he grabs the bread roll from your hands. cute. you think to yourself. you could tease him about this later. “sukuna?” a voice brings up out of the trance. lost in your touch. lost in your eyes.

you move back to the kitchen. giddy. he comes after a while. “hey,” his voice gains your attention. you quickly move over to him. your arms move around his neck as his take their rest on your waist. “hi,” you smile.

both of you waiting for the other to make the first move. waiting to be kissed. you both hold eye contact. having a whole conversation without saying anything. you kiss him on the cheek and pull away “gotta clean up my king.” his heart skips a beat whenever you refer to him as your king. he wanted to be yours forever.

no advances are made by the either for you for the rest of the week. keeping your distances from each other. a knock comes at your door in the morning. sukuna stands outside your door. fiddling with his fingers — nervous with anticipation.

you open the door, half asleep. the early morning sun shining through the curtains lightening your frame. dressed in a skimpy white night gown, the robe loosely tied around. “sukuna,” you whisper sleep lacing your voice. “did you need something?” you ask with your head lulled to the side.

“um—” unable to form a coherent sentence at a upon seeing your morning look. your puffy eyes. slumped body. he wants to hold you in his arms. he wishes he could wake up to you every day. how much better his day would be if you were by his side. “sukuna,” you stretch the vowel trying to bring him back to you.

he clears his throat. “yes um, just wanted to ask you something.” can i kiss you? can you call me yours? will you be my girlfriend? marry me? he shakes his head as if the thoughts would clear but they stay lingering in the back of his mind when he asks you “will you go on a date with me?”

“took you long enough but yes i’d love to,” you smile at him. “perfect. i’ll pick you up at 7,” he returns your smile. it tugs at your heart. he should smile more often you think to yourself. a new goal to keep him smiling. “okay sweet cheeks. see you then.” he raises his eyebrows at the nickname. “now.. let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he warns jokingly. “too late,” you wink at him.

as promised sukuna’s outside your door at 7. an array of flowers in a bouquet in his hand. he knocks lightly. “come in!” you yell from inside. “it’s sukuna,” he replies back. in case you were expecting someone else. “i know. come in. i need your help.” he closes the door behind him, “in here,” you call out from the closet. he drops the bouquet on your coffee table and makes his way to you.

“close your eyes,” you yelp when you see him approaching. “but you just told me to come in?” he retorts. “i know but keep your eyes closed.” you walk over to where he’s standing and grab his hands. he hold his breath. “can you help me zip up this dress without looking?” you ask. “sure can,” he smirks. “you’re dirty,” you pout. “aw now no need to pout.” he catches you off guard. he just knew you too well. “i never claimed otherwise. now turn around.”

you put his hands on your shoulders and turn around. he can feel the material under his hands. “go ahead,” you whisper trying to hide how bad his touch was getting to you. he feels for the zip under his fingers. slowly moving over the straps and then to your bare skin. he inhales deeply at the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. soft and smooth. just how he imagined it. his hands make their way to the middle of your back. a small metal like piece comes in his grasp and he pulls it up, slowly. trying to savor the moment you let him this close to you.

“thank you. now keep your eyes closed and walk back outside and wait for me.” you order him and he abides. who would’ve the thought the king would be so love sick he would be taking orders. definitely not him. he smiles at the thought. happy to do anything you asked of him. soon after he leaves you follow him out to the hallway.

you’re dressed in a sheer black dress with lace flowers dotting it. hugging your body just the way he wishes to. unable to control himself he lets out a whistle at which you laugh and give him a twirl “do you like?” you ask him. “yes,” he grabs your waist mid twirl and pulls you in. shorter than him even with heels you look up at him with a big smile. he holds back from kissing and instead hands you the colorful bouquet “for you, my lady”.

still in the palace you step outside to his grand garden. he brings you to an area filled with different array of roses. the sun bidding its farewell to the sky and shining a perfect shade of gold made it look like a scene out of the movie. a stone table with stone benches on either side under the white pillars welcomed you.

breathtaking. that’s what you looked like he thinks. if that word was a person, it would be you. his hand grasps yours as you make conversation about everything and nothing. leftover dessert lingers on the side of your lip. his finger comes up to wipe it away. he thinks about pulling you in and kissing you. and you wait for it to come but it doesn’t. you both walk hand in hand. you looking up at the stars and talking about different constellations as he guides you through the garden and back into the house. he loves how excited you sound so he listens to every word you say carefully. he walks you to your room like always. and like last time you expect him to kiss you goodbye but he doesn’t. instead he kisses you on the cheek.

he wanted you to be the one to initiate the kiss. to confirm that you felt the same way he did but when you don’t he leaves you with a quick peck on the cheek.

he sighs when he reaches his bedroom. wondering if what you felt for each other was mutual. he lets his head fall back to the door muffling the sound of your knock. you wait for him patiently. maybe he didn’t want to see you, you thought.

but you’d regret it if you didn’t at least try. so you knock once more and almost instantly he opens the door. still dressed in the same clothes. you move in quickly. your hands grab his face and pull him down for a deep kiss. he moans into the kiss, shutting the door behind you.

his hands move under your thighs and your legs wrap around him like they were made to always keep him in your hold. he falls with you on the bed. he pulls back for a moment, quickly getting rid of anything that would halt either of your movements.

your walls are snug around him as he pushes in. you fit together perfectly. the way a key fits a lock. hard to choose between going fast and feeling good or going slow and savoring the moment, he chooses the latter.

he wishes he could stay in this moment forever. your sweet voice calling out his name in a fervor of pleasure. your eyes threatening to close “keep your eyes on me, doll,” he huffs. soon he brings you both to a state of ecstasy. you let go with a deep moan of his name “sukuna, oh fuck”. and he follows suit. painting your walls white. panting your name. his head falls to your neck. both of you breathing heavily. your fingers tangle into his pink locks as he leaves kisses behind your ear, on your neck, over your collarbone.

“sleep with me tonight,” he tells you and you nod an okay. “too tired to move, anyway.” you say making him chuckle. he cleans you up and pulls you in his arms. “i love you”, he whispers into your hair when he’s sure you’re asleep. he hopes you’re dreaming of him. dreaming of a life with him. just as he does.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

a/n pt. 2: had a half mind to end this over him not hearing you knock and keeping it angsty. but i’m nice :)

© SONARSPACE 2023 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[biolumien]

Hi Hi! first time requesting like this and I just recently finished watching the latest episode of Kaiju number 8. I was wondering if your could write something for Vice Captain Hoshina.

I was thinking something along the lines of a reincarnation storyline? Maybe Reader is a renowned painter or something. And one day they come across a dream of Hoshina in their past life and they paint his face. And Hoshina is suddenly bombarded by a few officers/cadets a few days later about a sudden article blowing up online with a painting that had extremely similar structure to his face. And maybe they'd end up meeting because of it?

I love your writing. Particularly the one with the glasses reader that I read a few days back. You're free to change things as you see fit. And I'm sure whatever you come up with will be very nice. Sorry if my words are confusing. I don't speak english language that well. 😊👌 Thank you if you decide to write for this ask.

notes: ok the way i am. actually obsessed with this i hope you enjoy!!

every 'one line' drawn.

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no warnings, i think wc: 1768

in your dreams, you always see the same face. red eyes watching your face, purple hair framed over his face and the feeling of a callused hand on your hand, on your cheek. and every time he leans into kiss you, you find yourself pressing your face closer to his, as if desperate, and then you wake up. 

and when you wake up, you always feel the telltale trickle of a tear down your face, the feeling of salt on your tongue. 

there’s no time to wonder what the dreams ever mean, what with your job as a painter. you lived commission to commission—and while your customers were always high brow and paid generously, still meant that you couldn’t be lost in daydreams forever. 

and in your studio, with the pungent smell of turpentine and linseed oil, with your hands inevitably smeared with oil paints, it was easy to forget the stranger whose hands felt rough and weary, and yet held your face with measured gentleness. it was easy to forget him—up until you went back to bed, and you’d always be back in the same dream. 

“i keep seeing you,” you murmur in your dream. “who are you?” 

the man laughs. 

he seems sad, for a second. 

“a dear friend,” he responds. you see it on his face, the way his lips twist at his words, that it’s not quite true. and he leans in again, watching your face. “it’s okay if you don’t remember me.” 

“but i do,” you say in protest. you think you remember this face. “i want to.” 

you must remember this face, surely—this face that, upon your words, looks sadder. and then you wonder if he’s even real—or if this is simply your subconscious, saddened that you can’t remember. saddened that your mind replays this moment, again and again, a repeated brushstroke pulling open the blank canvas underneath. 

“we all want things we can’t have, sometimes,” the man says. 

he leans into kiss you, 

and you jolt up out of bed, awakening to a phone call from your manager. 

“hello…?” you mumble into your phone, pressing it against your cheek as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “it’s rare you call me randomly like this…” 

“tis no random call,” your manager responds. “you’ve received a request to exhibit some of your works from a museum. will you do it? i hear the pay’s pretty good.”

“mmm… any specific theme?” you ask. 

“not really. they said to let your imagination go wild.” 

“hm.” 

you touch your lips, and when you close your eyes, you see a hint of those crimson eyes again. 

“alright. i think i’ve got a pretty good muse this time,” you say. 

[…]

hoshina wasn’t exactly someone who was very in the know about art. his job, for one, meant that it’s not like he would exactly be interested in art in general, and it’s not like he was even spending his days off on art museum trips or admiring the local art scene. 

so why was it that everyone seemed all abuzz about art today?

and why did it seem like there were more eyes on him than before? not that he particularly abhorred attention or anything, but the eyes seemed to be looking at his face specifically. 

his eyes flit to some of the new officer recruits—iharu, reno, kafka… fuck, even haruichi and aoi? what the hell was going on—huddled around a laptop. haruichi’s brow furrows as he stares at the illuminated screen, and then flits up to look at hoshina. when hoshina stares back, harder, haruichi’s gaze immediately ducks back to the laptop.  

okay. 

well, something was definitely up. 

hoshina strolls over to the recruits, who immediately seem to start panicking—the panic is written across kafka’s face more obviously than the others, and reno elbows kafka in the side. 

“what’s all this about? if you’ve got time to huddle you’ve got time to run laps—” hoshina starts, leaning over at the screen before—

“about that, vice captain,” iharu says. 

hoshina’s in stunned silence staring at the screen, because… isn’t that—

“holy shit,” hoshina says. 

“holy shit indeed,” haruichi says grimly. 

on haruichi’s laptop screen is a painting of— him. hoshina’s damned face, brows gentle and a softened smile on his face. it was a beautiful painting, and yet—there was something sad about the smile, the brows belying deep sorrow. 

“this painter’s pretty well-known, too, aren’t they?” kafka asks. “for like… the psychedelic stuff.” 

“no,” reno says. “they’re like our modern-day monet or something. impressionist paintings.” 

“impressi-what? how do you know this much about art, reno?” iharu asks, wrapping his arm around reno’s neck in a headlock. reno coughs, slapping iharu’s arm. 

“shut up,” reno chokes out, but even as the bickering picks up, hoshina’s gaze is still transfixed on the painting. 

it’s him. no doubt about it. 

“i’ve never talked to them before,” hoshina says after a moment. at once the arguments rattle to a halt, but in the empty relief of silence is the carved truth—that the painting is definitely of him, and its painter was a person who he’d never talked to before in his life. 

“the artist is going to be doing a panel about their exhibition soon,” haruichi says, glancing up at hoshina. “i think they can get me a ticket if i ask.” 

“… just don’t expect me to lighten your laps around the training course,” hoshina says with a chuckle. 

[…]

you hated speaking in front of an audience. cliche, of course, the introverted artist that squirrels away in in their studio—but that was often your reality. you liked to say you wanted your work to ‘speak for itself’, as it were, so you didn’t often make public appearances. 

but your most recent exhibition, featuring the painting of your mysterious dream visitor, created far more buzz than you could have asked for. suddenly everyone and anyone wanted an answer as for who your muse was, why he had a very striking resemblance to soshiro hoshina of the japan anti-kaiju defense force’s third division, and had you gotten permission from hoshina to do it? did you have a specific message surrounding your work?

“just stick to the script,” your manager says to you. “i talked it through with some of the reporters and i wrote some answers for you if you’re scared.” he hands you a slip of paper, and your eyes scan the page, and you swallow the lump in forming in your throat. 

“i shouldn’t have done the painting after all,” you say.

it was strange. in the days and weeks you’d worked on the painting, you hadn’t seen your muse in your dreams at all. you’d been forced to rely on only the memory of the dream–which only seemed to get fuzzier and fuzzier until it became barely a wisp. and now, in those ensuing weeks that the painting has been on exhibition, you almost felt embarrassed of the painting–its vague subject matter might have been charming and a little kitsch, but charming and a little kitsch wasn’t supposed to garner this much attention.

“nonsense,” your manager says. “it’s a wonderful painting.” he pushes you by the back, gently urging you forward. “they’re ready for you.”

you push past the door separating you from the reporters–and then are immediately flashbanged with cameras and lights, and jumbling, layered voices creating a discordant symphony that made you wince.

“um. thank you… for…” you wince as your grip fumbles on your microphone, nearly dropping it, the feedback screeching across speakers. “um. sorry. i’m not exactly the best public speaker–my repertoire of events… like this, isn’t many. but thank you for attending this panel… surrounding my exhibition of my latest work. i’ll answer… a few questions.”

the reporters looked like a jumbled blob for the most part–a thrumming organism of similar faces that melted together into one homogenous mess, a splotch of badly-mixed paint on the palette that you’d scrape away with a knife and discard. 

reciting your manager’s written responses wasn’t the hard part. as you continued to banter, your eyes swept across the crowd.

what were you even doing here?

you wanted to crawl back to your studio, already, and go back to painting. at least then the idea that you’d dreamed up some man who bore a striking resemblance to someone who already existed would fade away with time. and then your eyes found that telltale shade of crimson and purple–for just a moment. and you think his eyes meet yours, too–crimson eyes the exact shade as the one in your dreams. 

his eyes widen. 

“... as you were saying?” a reporter’s words float back to your ears, ephemeral, and you pause.

“can we… no more questions.” you shake your head, finding your vision swimming, blurring, and you raise a hand wiping tears from your face. “sorry. something just… came up–”

and you push into the crowd, trying to find the face from your dreams.

that had to be him, right? his face? it was like as soon as you saw him, the underpainting of your memories flowed back to you–a heartaching loss pounding in your chest. something was wrong. something was missing, because you’d forgotten–and now that you’d remembered it, it hurt. 

“i’m sorry,” you say. 

“you’ve nothing to be sorry for,” the man says to you, and leans in to kiss you. “i’ll find you again in the next life.”

“i’ll remember you,” you say. 

the man watches you, a somewhat sad look on his face.

you press your thumb to the corner of his lip.

“and when i do, i’ll do something big. to capture your attention. and then your eyes will be on me forever.”

you finally manage to catch the man in the crowd, and you realize you’ve seen him before. only once or twice, though–on a small poster or on television. soshiro hoshina, of the third division. you did know this man–but just barely.

he lets out a surprised noise as soon as you collide with him, and you gasp breathlessly. 

“i’m sorry,” you say, looking up at hoshina. “i just… have we…”

“met?” hoshina answers your question, cocking his head, blinking down at you.

“yes,” you say. “i think… i think so. maybe. we… you look familiar.”

hoshina blinks, and then smiles.

it’s so different than the way he smiled at you in your dream. the corners of his lips quirk up, his eyebrows relax almost as he watches you. 

“i thought so too,” hoshina says, and you hear relief in his voice. “so… um. hi.”

“hi,” you respond, and he laughs.

[sergentreckless]

Hypothesis

Author’s Note: omg hi, I have been procrastinating this forever. Like I’ve had it basically all written for like a month and a half, I just refused to edit it ugh. School and work kicked my ass, so I had no energy at all. But here it is, it’s not the best thing I’ve written, but a lot of you seemed to love the teaser, so here is the finished result. If you came from the teaser, I am so so sorry I kept you waiting for so long, I love you. I hope you all enjoy! Please leave your thoughts on it, as I would love to hear what you think, and I am always looking to improve. And if you want to request anything, just send me a message lovelies!

Kisses,

Reckless

WC: 1331, she a short little baby

Summary: Scott comes home to his pretty girl on her period. This could be the perfect time to see if his theory is correct.

Warnings: domestic Scott, insinuation of sexy time, touching, feeling, loving, fluffyyyyyyy

Feeling the heavy dead bolt flip to the side of the door, Scott feels a sense of relief walking through the door frame. Yes, he loves chasing, but it’s all so over whelming. He needs time to relax, to wind down with his pretty girl resting on his chest. He always loved having you there, playing with the thick strands of hair that adorn your head. Scott would never admit to anyone just how much he loves having you so close, but it is his favorite feeling in the world. A close second is having your hands lost in his black locks, nails gently scraping over his scalp. He always melts right into your touch, the feeling of your scratches sending shivers down his spine every time. Clearly, I’ve missed her, Scott thinks to himself after envisioning the way your body rests against his.

He walks down the hallway of your shared apartment, taking large steps to get to your room as quickly as he can. Upon reaching your shared bedroom, Scott opens the door, only to be met with the sight of you curled in on yourself. The room is dark, so he thinks you might just be taking a nap. He quietly makes his way over to your bed, careful not to wake you. Trying his absolute hardest to cause the least amount of disruption, Scott delicately (at least tries to) sits himself on your shared bed, landing beside your sleeping figure. Relishing in the feeling of his muscles deflating as soon as he hits the bed, Scott feels instant relaxation. He feels so at ease, so natural, situated next to you. It’s his favorite place to be, right by your side.

He glances over at you, wanting to see your beautiful form after the long day he had. You seem at peace, only a slight furrow of the eyebrows accented on your face. What could she be dreaming about? he wonders. Hopefully something about him. Your body twitches lightly, compelling him to lay further in bed and reach an arm out, bringing you closer so he can wrap his body around yours. As Scott’s fingertips graze the soft skin of your back, you take a deep breath in and wrap your arms around his toned torso, unconsciously dragging yourself closer to his body. Desperate to feel his warmth.

His gaze on you softens. Heart melting at the adorable sight of you needing to be closer to him.  His other hand is drawn to your face, unable to resist how beautiful its structure is. Your eyes flutter open as you feel Scott’s fingers graze your cheeks. You let out a sweet sigh that morphs into a moan as you release your sleepiness into the room.

“How was your day sweetheart?” you ask, rubbing your face, trying to wake yourself up. His eyes capture yours, utterly captivated by how intense yet calm they seem.

“Full of dust and wind”, Scott quips, giving you the most minimal detail, leaving you wondering for more.

You shoot him a look, pupils dilated, making you seem far too adorable, and he immediately knows not to push you. He’ll have to refrain from poking fun at you tonight, seeing something in your eyes that gives him warning.

“It was busy” he corrects, “much better now that I am here with you.”

What a save, you giggle to yourself as you hear him quickly rephrase what he wanted to convey to you.

“How was your day, honey?”

Returning the question seems to be standard human politeness, social normity if you will, but you know he’s not asking just to be polite. He really cares. Scott wants to know every detail of your day. Being away from you to chase tornadoes is hard, he doesn’t want to miss the really important things, even if you must be apart. So, Scott has to rely on the personal detail you give him, though he always feels a little left out at the end of your stories, hating that he doesn’t play a role in every part of your life. Not that he doesn’t trust you, he just can’t stand the thought of anything happening in your life and not being there to witness it, not being a part of it… he shakes his head, chasing his blue thoughts away.

A high-pitched, drawn-out groan comes from your direction, letting Scott know the nature of your day… not great, he thinks as a frown takes over (find a word) his face. “Work was work” you breath out, “it’s just been a rough day.”

Scott can see the exhaustion on your face, reflecting the truth behind your words. His heart melts on the spot, hating it when you have a bad day. His goal since he met you has been to make sure every day was the most wonderful day of your life.

Outliers… as a scientist, he hated them and hoped that today had just been one for you. “m’just in a lot of pain Scotty,” you whined out, hoping he would know what you were getting at so you didn’t have to go through the embarrassment of saying it out loud.  

“Oh honey..” he spoke softly, remembering how late in the month it was. He tightened his arms around you, giving you a soft, snug squeeze. There is nothing in the world that could ever explain the comfort of his muscular arms squeezing your body tightly against his. It felt like home, like being surrounded by the warmest, softest blanket you had ever felt.

Gently squirming to adjust as your lower half tightens, you shift closer into Scott’s form, catching a whiff of his spicy cologne and that minty gum you always kept stored for him. New packs of gum always appeared in Scott’s console, even when he was sure he had enough. How curious, new packs of gum showing up when he’s running low. Looking at you, he cant’t help but think of how perfect you were. You know him inside and out, so well that you know when he is about to run out of the thing he generally uses to keep his mouth busy. It’s certainly not his favorite thing to use to occupy himself, but you aren’t always there for him to devour, much to his dissatisfaction. You treat him so well, such an angel you are.

Scott’s hand reaches down, fingers grasping your chin, tilting it up to bring your gaze to his. You just can’t get over how intense the eye contact is, his beautiful blue eyes staring down at yours, asking a million questions, but speaking one certain truth. He loves you. Oh boy, does he just love you so much. Looking down at you, he is overwhelmed by the love he feels for the delicate creature cradled in his arms. Scott wants nothing more than to hold you there forever, keeping you safe and secure in his loving embrace. But your body has other plans, cramps suddenly plaguing your fatigued frame. As your body squirms, Scott can’t help but grab you, pressing your front into his to try to provide some relief in any way he can.

“Hey sweetheart…”

You softly moan in response to him.

“… I might be able to help you with those cramps…” he said, looking down at you bashfully, yet a smirk still plastered on his face, a clear insinuation.

“Yeah? And how do you plan on doing that?” you tease, feigning ignorance.

“You know, someone told me sex can help ease the pain… and I would love to test that theory with you,” he responds, hands slowly migrating lower until he finally rests them on your ass, giving it a firm but gentle squeeze.  Meeting his gaze and batting your eyelashes at him was a sure sign that you were happy to give this idea of his a go. After all, who would you be to deny a scientist from collecting data to confirm his hypothesis.

[transformers-spike]

I cannot be the only one who wants to bang peepaw Alpha Trion plEASE TELL ME IM NOT ALONE 😭

I will never stop being an old man enjoyer. Give us your spike, peepaw

“I’m relieved we aren’t the only ones in this universe.” The words echo in his processor like sand in the desert wind. Fading in and out of consciousness under the rubble, he clings onto the softness of your voice, the faded edges of your smile burnt into his memory. He cannot make sense of your shape anymore, it’s a blotch of ink in his vision, something he recalls but cannot fully visualize. His mind reaches out to you, so close yet so far away. With every step he takes, you grow smaller, and still, you patiently wait for him with your arms outstretched. Like old times. You are dead. This he knows. Unequivocally dead. His digits twitch, warnings encapsulate his vision, reminding him each and every nanoclik of wakefulness that the next in-vent could be his last. He can’t help himself. Duty has led his life for so long, bestowed upon him by his creator, and he cannot fall back now and forgo his promise to protect Cybertron. But he is weak; pain receptors growing numb from the boulders crushing his frame, limbs quivering from a battle long lost. Primus forgive him, allow him this final comfort. Cycles ago, your crew had first established contact with Cybertron. It was a message sent across space, a simple signal that would tie your fates forever. The Council debated answering, fearing you could pose a threat to their planet, but there were only three ships with only a handful of members each. They chose fraternization over static silence. Communication was difficult, but somehow, someway, you understood each other just enough to arrive on their planet. Surprise struck him when he saw your kind, small, frail and soft to the touch. Your people were just as startled as them, but in your optics he saw something greater; a delight in meeting fellow sentient beings. They took in your crew and treated them like brothers and sisters, communicating through gestures and drawings. You could not speak their language, but they could learn yours. Knowledge was shared among you, tales of your worlds, their history, your technology, your people… Perhaps your place among your own was what drew him to you. Standing on the sidelines, you watched and took notes, occasionally serving as a sketch artist to exchange information. The others were mingling with the Council, asking questions, telling stories, showing what machinery brought you to them. But you kept your distance, politely nodding along and busying yourself with your notebooks. When he approached you, taking slow careful steps, you nearly dropped your pen in shock. His size was already intimidating by Cybertronian standards, but for a human? He could barely imagine the primal fear you felt when met with someone of his stature. You recovered quickly despite it, uneasy but maintaining your composure. Having knelt down to your level, he offered you servo, the sand within it shaping into a miniature version of your ship. You blinked, clutching your notebook to your chassis. Then, after a drawn out silence, you smiled, optics gleaming with wonder. That was the start of your companionship. You would sit in his servo, looking up at the night sky, speaking words he could barely understand but tried his hardest to learn. He recalls bits and pieces, meanings he managed to grasp through what you taught him. It wasn’t long until your time together grew intimate. As a prime, he was so focused on his duties that he barely got the chance to relax, much less interface. Things were… difficult due to the size difference, but there were workarounds. Charge runs through his fuel lines at the memory. How you would brush your digits against his valve, testing the waters so to say, before slipping your servo inside of it. There was no true relief in the interface, no way for you to properly satisfy each other. But you were both content, savoring every moment of your companionship. You would press your lips to his spike, working your servo in and out of his gushing valve. It made his frame shudder and his optics glitch.

He touched you much the same way, digits rubbing at the sensitive nerves between your thighs, gazing down at you lovingly as you grit your denta and arched your optical ridge in pleasure.

[uhhlifeig]

Gift - Feb. 25th - word count: 293 - @wolfstarmicrofic

“Here,” Remus said, handing Sirius a small box. 

“Aww, is this for me?” Sirius cooed, opening the gift. Inside was an elegant hair clip- silver, with intricate designs.

“Shut up,” Remus hissed, turning a bright red. “I noticed your hair was in your face in Potions, and-”

“And you got me jewelry!” Sirius screeched. “Prongs and Lily’ll have a fit when I tell them, oh my gosh.”

“Shush.” Remus rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I’m proposing or anything.”

“Don’t care. I’m going to cherish this forever and ever and ever and ever-”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Remus sighed, grin evident in his voice. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Sirius was incredibly grateful for having such a wonderful boyfriend, and he showed it later that day- well, night.

~~~~~

Azkaban was cold.

It wasn’t a put-some-more-layers-on type of cold; it was the gaze-upon-me-mortal-and-despair kind of cold.

And oh, Sirius was despairing.

His bones were rattling in his skeletal frame, and he hadn’t gotten up from the stone floor in days. 

Every time the Dementors passed by his cell, he relived finding James and Lily’s dead bodies.

James was first, he remembered. Splayed out on the staircase, glassy eyes looking at something no living person would see.

Then it was Lily, strewn across the floor. Dead, so that Harry would be safe.

And Remus- Remus definitely thought he’d been betrayed.

His best friends, dead. Peter, whom Remus probably still considered a hero, was dead too. 

And Sirius was here, in Azkaban.

The day that James and Lily died, he had a ring ready. He would have proposed three days after, on his birthday- but now he’d never get the chance.

He was rotting away on a cold stone floor, wishing on the moon for another chance.

@estellethewriter is this sad pookie

[lovelyjj]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8wwy3pu/

Hi I was wondering if you could do reader sitting at the restaurant with her boyfriend jj or Rafe and their with some friends and reader is scrolling through TikTok and ask jj or Rafe to do this trend (if not just ignore this)

TikTok Trend

jj maybank x reader

a/n: I lowkey hate this i’m so sorry it’s short but thank you so much for requesting!

The restaurant was fairly busy. You were with your friends, the pogues and your boyfriend JJ. You were waiting for your food and talking about what you were gonna do next.

“We could go out on the boat,” John B suggested.

“Or we could do a bonfire at the beach,” Kiara chimed in.

“That sounds nice,” you admitted.

Eventually your food arrived and you all enjoyed eating. The waitress refilled your drinks and you appreciated it. After you were done eating you pulled out your phone.

You started scrolling on tiktok, mindlessly looking at videos. Then you stumbled upon a trend. The trend was to pretend you don’t know each other and then hug or kiss. You immediately wanted to do it with JJ.

“Jayj?” you called.

“Yes sweetheart?” JJ replied.

“Will you film a tiktok with me?” you asked.

“Yeah sure.”

“Ok you have to pretend you don’t know me and then bump into me and then kiss or hug me,” you explained.

“Sounds good,” JJ confirmed he herd you.

The restaurant you were eating at was on the pier. So the two of you excused yourselves and walked down the pier a little bit. Once you found an open spot with no other people walking around, you set up your phone.

You leaned your phone against the railing and hit record. You and JJ got into frame and avoided each others gaze. You started walking and JJ started walking towards you. You bumped into each other and gave each other confusing looks.

Then JJ grabbed your face with both hands on your cheeks. He kissed you with passion. He walked you backwards. Then the video stopped because the time was filled up.

“Let’s do it one more time just in case ok?” you suggested.

“Yeah ok,” JJ responded.

You set it up to record again and then backed up. JJ was looking away from you and you were looking away from him when you bumped into each other, and then looked confused. JJ stepped back a bit while you stayed in place.

JJ came running at you and scooped you up in his arms while you laughed. It was so cute. You went to retrieve your phone and watch the video back. You showed JJ and he thought it was perfect.

“Which one should I post?” you asked JJ.

“Hmm i don’t know maybe the first one,” JJ suggested.

You watched the first one and agreed with JJ. That was the one to post. It encompassed JJ perfectly. You were happy with it and you had a good time doing the trend.

As you walked back to your seats you posted the video on tiktok. You thought it was funny and sweet. Eventually you returned back to the table with your friends.

Later that day you were at the beach doing a bonfire. You were sitting on JJ’s lap around the fire with his arms wrapped around you. Everyone enjoyed the fire and the sound of the waves.

————-

The next morning you decided to check tiktok and you were blown away to see so many likes and comments.

Sarbear190: you guys are the cutest <3

JohnBeeee: JJ is a monstrosity

Kiarawithak: in love with your relationship

thepopeheyward: You two make me believe in true love.

Cleoisabaddie: Life is not perfect but the two of you are.

JJmaybank87: Love you forever and ever baby

There was quite a bit of other comments gushing over you and JJ. Comments like “goals” and “you’re so lucky.” The video did well, it got a lot of likes and you were pleased.

JJ was laying down next to you in bed. You put your hand on his cheek and said, “Good morning baby boy.”

“Good morning princess,” JJ grumbled.

You gave JJ a kiss on his lips before saying “I love you. We should make tiktoks more often.”

“I love you too and yeah of course we’re naturals.”

[my-writings-and-musings]

So Tumblr is barely functional as usual and wouldn't let me edit an ask and deleted it instead : )

Here's a response the dear anon that asked; "Anon here asking (respectfully begging) for more soundwave content. Can We have a continuation of mama reader? I am fully invested.

Bots being parents to tiny babies keeps my world going round so you absolutely can, dear anon. Continuation of this.

The bunker was far enough underground that day and night didn't really matter, but some part of you still new it was late when you were startled awake, your exhausted body gaining a burst of energy when you instinctively recognized what had awoken you.

Soft cries compelled you to move across the bed despite lingering pain, a powerful instinct giving you strength as you looked into the little bassinet that attached to the side of your mattress and found a squirming newborn Cybertronian. Despite being mere hours old, the little one had managed to kick off all his blankets, leaving him quite upset despite having caused the issue for himself. A rounded visor brightened when you came into view, his cries pausing with a hiccup as he recognized you on instinct. Tiny servos lifted to the sky and his needy cries started again. You smiled as you fulfilled his request and pulled him to your chest.

Just as you managed to lay on your side and get somewhat settled, the door to your shared bedroom opened and closed in a flash, a bright red visor stepping through the darkness.

"Is he alright?" Soundwave asked quietly, approaching with careful footsteps. Your son had ceased his squirms and quieted his cries, but his sounds of distress continued, tiny face scrunching unhappily as his sire kneeled on the berth beside you.

"Mhmm, just fussy, but he did kick off all his blankets." you explained, trying not to yawn. Your body was begging for rest, but you couldn't bring yourself to sleep while your little one needed you. Just having his tiny helm snuggled into the crook of your neck made you want to stay up with him forever. "I think he just wants me to hold him for a while."

Soundwave didn't look entirely convinced. Laying his much longer frame down beside you, he replied in a firm but gentle voice. "You need rest."

"I'll be fine." you answered quickly. You knew he was telling the truth, and your body wanted to comply, but you couldn't just let him go. Something deep had awakened within you when the sparkling had been born, and you were still adjusting. Even now, as his little digits grabbed a firm hold on your pajamas and his warm vents ruffled your hair, you knew you'd die for him without hesitation. Soundwave seemed to understand in his own way, but he was no less insistent for your sake.

"Correction; you'll be fine if you rest." he persisted, subtly tucking you in. The gentle touch of his digits did wonders for your lingering anxiety, and though a part of you still wanted to resist, you had no trouble handing over the mostly settled newborn when his sire offered his servos. Handing him over, you only heard a tiny sound of surprise before the sparkling settled once more, cozy as could be in the mech's careful grasp. "I'll figure out what woke him up."

"He's not hungry..." you offered with a yawn, keeping an eye on them both as you laid your head down on a pillow. You'd already started to learn what each particular type of cry was meant to communicate, and the one that had awoken you was more like the fearful wails he'd made upon entering the world, making you wonder what might have frightened him in the safety of his crib. Sleep clouded your brain and prevented the formation of any sensible theories. Thankfully, Soundwave had more energy to focus on the problem, his visor pulsing faintly in thought as he looked over the bundle in his cupped palm.

With his spare servo, he tenderly traced the rounded helm resting against his thumb, contemplating something you couldn't know until he finally spoke up. "Sensitive audials..." he noted at last, digits lingering as he took a second to observe and ponder the feature he'd given his son. Realizing he'd drifted off, the mech moved a bit more swiftly upon catching himself, looking to the ceiling so his expression couldn't betray him. "The ventilation system is quite loud upon activation. It must have startled him. Solution; resonance dampeners."

"That sounds like a good idea. We can get the nursery soundproofed before he moves in..." you said with a nod, already drifting off. Thoughts blurred as sleep came for you at last, your body dimly aware of the blankets being adjusted once more before warm digits stroked your cheek. You had just enough strength to open your eyes and meet Soundwave's scarlet visor.

"I can handle that, and this." he said in a final, tender insistence. Knowing that everything would be taken care of made it much easier to drift off. The last thing you saw before closing your eyes was the form of your son snoozing soundly in his sire's palm, a loving voice rumbling in your ears as you complied and prepared to dream of all that might be ahead. "Sleep, please. For both of us."

[tinydefector]

Was wondering if you could do some earth spark Megatron x reader, there isn't alot of them and I'd love to see what you could come up with.

The Malto's Neighbour

Megatron x human

Warning: none.

Wordcount: 1.6k

Megatron masterlist

Really hope you guys like this, and woo first piece for earthspark since I've started watching the series. Hope you guys enjoy the chaos which is to come.

________________________

The Malto's property is a busy one, Twitch yelling at the others as they practise. "Keep up slow poke Twitch's madly zips between the hay bales strewn across the yard, chassis buzzing with energy. "Gotta be faster than that, Jawbreaker!" She shouted gleefully, panels flared and fans roaring. 

Hashtag revved her engine competitively, darting around the yard in tight circles as she sought an opening to knock Thrust off his pedes laughter echoing from all of them. Nearby, Nightshade sculpted away as they planned out new projects. 

Dot smiles as she watches her kids run around the yard, and back and forth from the barn. "Play nice you lot!" She calls out while finishing her coffee. The sound of  propellers alerts her to Megatron's arrival. She looks out the other side of the widow with a smile as Megatron touches down. "Megs wasn't expecting to see you today" she calls out while walking out to meet him.

His optics scans the surrounding farmland, ensuring all remains secure within guarded borders, before his powerful lip components peel back in a fierce yet weary grin. "And risk missing the sparklings?" he retorts, striding over rust coloured soil towards the porch Dorothy stood on. 

His field pulses warmth upon seeing his friend, soaking in her calming company. “It is good to see you Dorothy” A gruff hum rumbles his massive frame, relaxing further.

"so optimus, has you playing babysitter today?" She asked with a smirk, trying to ruffle his plating. A scoffing snort bellows from Megatron's vents at the insinuation of playing nursemaid.

Twitch's laughter makes Megatron look up to watch as she flies around with Mo before their eyes and optics land on the ex-warlord. "Hi Mr Megatron!" A collection of voices call out, Dot laughs at her kids. "Believe it or not they seem to enjoy having you around, think they like you better than OP '' she states smugly. A rare soft chuckle rumbles from Megatron's frame. "Well if the Prime cannot appease youthful tastes, it seems his title means less than once assumed," he replies loftily, it earns him a small slap to his plating from Dorothy. 

Beside him, her own amusement rings sweet as Terran continues with their Shenanigans. Megatron's optics glint fondly. He didn't know how to voice his appreciation to the soldier turned ranger, she trusted him so willingly with her family and he would forever be thankful for that.  

Dot walks towards her work vehicle. "You gonna be alright dealing with all of them by yourself?. Alex shouldn't be far away" she replies while getting into the driver's seat and ready to head off to work. 

"Twitch Not fair only you and Nightshade can fly!" Hashtag calls out.

 

"Too bad bozo should have picked a better alt mode instead of a Ghost Van '' Twitch calls back as she takes off with their basketball before throwing in through the hoop.

This handful of newsparks posed no threat whatsoever, and he'd make sure they were protected while she was away.

"Worry not, I shall keep them entertained and out of trouble until your return" he rumbles, His massive frame shifts casually aside as Dot's vehicle rumbles past, optics following until taillights fade into rural tree line. Massive peds crunch soil as Megatron straightens, surveying once more. 

It's only once the kids mother has left do they go about doing their own things. 

Nightshade and Hashtag with little projects together. “Can you give me a tutorial on renovating?” Nightshade ask Hashtag as the two work away 

Jawbreaker finds himself sitting beside Megatron with Mo sitting in his lap. “But I never thought you had a grounded alt” Jawbreaker states while watching the ex Decepticon. “Much has changed since my time on cybertron and even while here on earth.” He starts. “I was once a miner, my Alt was that of a Mining Drill, it's only as of recently I've taken an alt mode of a flying type” he replies, a sad smile on his lips as he remembers. He's broken out of his memory when Twitch flies back in a panic. 

"There is someone on the property!, they didn't see me but i didn't stick around to get seen" She states and it makes all the young ones tense up. 

"You don't think it's GHOST again?" 

"It could be the neighbour!" Robbie states trying to calm everyone.

"Show me," he rumbles curtly to Twitch, striding toward the perimeter of the woodlands. His engine rumbles a warning growl. "Remain here. Stay out of sight, Little bird stay in drone mode in case it is GHOST."  The young terrans all retreat back into the barn watching. The wind whispers against his armour as he and Twitch move through the woods, Twitch stays close to Megatron's side hovering as they slowly scan the area. 

A loud whistle leaves a human as they move throughout the woodlands. "Bluey!" They call out while looking through the woods. "Blue! Come on!" They call before their eyes catch movements, they huff to themself moving closer hoping to find their dog. 

As they turn down another track they freeze when Scarlet optics linger on them, their body goes into fight or flight mode but instead of either they sand frozen to the spot hoping they hadn't been seen. Megatron freezes as well, optics narrowing to analyse the stranger before him. No weapon was drawn, but their presence alone was alarming. A low menacing growl rumbles leaves his intake, Twitch hovers over his shoulder plate quick to hide behind his back as she transformers, ember optics watching the human from behind Megatron as she clings to the large Mech. 

"Explain your business here, human," he demands. "You trespass" Twitch's faint glow flickers beside him, awaiting the answer that could mean swift action, depending on what the human said would decide how quickly she would fly back to the barn.

They fall to the ground moving backwards quickly. "BLUE!!" They shout loudly. The sound of heavy footsteps crunching against branches, leaf litter and rocks follow before a large cybernetic Dog stands in front of the human growling at Megatron. Its ears are pinned back as it barks loudly at the large Mech, guarding their human. 

Twitch's optics widen in shock. “No way you have a Robodog!” she squeals out in delight only for Megatron to make sure she stays behind him. 

 Megatron's optics narrow as he watches the Metal dog and vice versa. Bright blue optics watch his every move, the creature looked like a merge of cybertronian tech yet at the same time his scans said it was something different.

"Explain," he rumbles again, optics narrowing upon the trespassers. Loyalty to one's charge he respected, if nothing else. But his main concern was his charges and their safety. More footfall alerts Megatron to one of the children running towards them. Robbie pants as he catches up to Megatron, his eyes going wide when he sees his neighbour. “DON'T BLAST OUT NEIGHBOUR!" He yells loudly.

 

"You know them?" he asked Robbie who nodded. "Yea they leave across the woods, their another one of my Parents friend's!" He states only to flinch as the cyberdog sniffs him. its ears perk up and whines at the young man waiting for a pat. "Robbie?" The other human calls out in shock.

“Um Hey!, sorry about him” Robbie says sheepishly while patting the dog's face. "Um... when did you get a robot dog?" He asked his neighbour, they let out a groan as they continued laying on the ground. Crimson optics scan the pair, A rumbling purr vibrates his massive chassis, posture shifting from confrontational to watchful. "You seem acquainted. Explain yourselves further - why have these 'neighbours' not been introduced before now?" He asked Robbie. 

The young man turns back to Megatron. "Because the terrans are hiding from GHOST, Megatron," He states, but the shock of reality finally kicks in after he says those words. "We are all gonna be in deep shit when mom gets home," he says in a panic. Twitch perks up. "Ohhhhh, Robbie said a bad word! I'm telling mom!!" She shouts while flying out from behind Megatron's shoulder.

"Troubles abound it seems," he finally replies, his tone modulated into something approaching conciliatory. "Explanations are due. But not here, it isn't safe out here." Crimson optics scan the forest shadows. 

That's how they end up sitting in the Kitchen of the Malto's house with both Robbie and Mo, along with the Terrans watching them from windows and Megatron sitting on the ground beside the house watching. They slowly sip on their drink as the kids look at them with worry. "You're not going to tell anyone about the bots right?" Mo asked.

"What!, no, no! That would put Blue in more danger, I'm out here hiding him for the Government" they state. It makes all the terrans relax before questions fly about themself and their cyberdog. 

Megatron scans Blue appraisingly where the cyber-hound lies on the Doorstep near his Pede. He had never seen anything like this creature. He had his run in with turbofoxs and other creatures like on cybertron, but this one almost reminded him of Ravage in how protective they were of their human.

A sigh vents softly from Megatron's frame, he reaches out slowly running a servos over the dog's back which makes the mutt huff, before it rolls over in delight, soft chafing noises leave them. 

It's only when Alex returns that he realises something is up. "Kids... what's going on?" He asked his children. The older of the collect waves. "Um Hey Alex, you might wanna sit down" they call out to him. He nearly drops his shopping bags when he sees the Metallic Dog.

Enjoy the Art of Blue.

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[ma1dita]

to love is to rest

words: less than 1k

summary: Regulus whispers sweet nothings to you as you sleep.

warnings: none :) regulus x gn!reader, sleepy babies in love, he is an overthinker poor baby, children at war

a/n: had to get this sleepy little regulus oneshot out of my head! thanks for the love & feel free to send more requests & yell at me in the comments ; barely edited sorry i just want to be HELD

(posted: 10/17/23)

—

Regulus doesn’t even remember falling asleep. It was hard to, with the war looming over the horizon. He’d lay awake in bed for hours, pouring over strategies on how to take down the Dark Lord until sleep would rob him of consciousness, without permission. He fights back with fists, wrangling it in his smooth hands with copious amounts of dark roast coffee and ambition. Sirius always said he was a fighter, but he moreso believes that he is one who endures. There isn’t much of a choice in it all, despite the fight he puts up. One must fall victim to sleep, and Regulus is familiar with having to endure the choices life makes for him.

“Baby? What time is it?” he mumbles, sleep still clutching at his eyelids.

The room is dimly lit and the candles are burning low. Blinking rapidly to adjust his eyes to the darkness, he observes his surroundings and notices that you are nestled into his side, nose against his heart and lightly snoring. Cheekbones framed in moonlight and a little pool of drool over the beating in his chest, Regulus would’ve never thought love to be so soft. Love has been portrayed to him as a scary, unsightly thing—proclamations that cut like swords, a fierce grip that bruises, a performance that marks one forever. But as he smiles and traces your spine over the shirt you stole from his trunk, he realizes he’s never known a love like yours.

“I didn’t know how much I could love until I met you.” he whispers.

Having you here in his arms with only the moon as his witness, he worships you as if you’re something divine. He believes this so strongly because loving you is easy, with no expectations to uphold the family name, no etiquette to perfect, or punishment other than the one he brings upon himself if he gets it wrong. He wonders what must’ve gone right in his past lives so that he can hold someone so closely—someone so angelic. He's far from religious but he’d do anything you ask him to, and you believe in him too much for him to fail. The faith you have in him could give him the strength to survive any unforgivable curse, any death sentence the Dark Lord orders him so as long as he can run home to you. There’s so much he has to do at 17, so much to more to live for— and it’s inconceivable how much he prays to survive long enough to see you at ease.

“You don’t even know how little I loved before I loved you. You don’t even know…”

Should his chest dare give in at this exact moment, he reckons he could make his bones a home for you to live in. At least you’ll have something to remember him by, and his love will be immortalized by you, echoing into the next lifetime until you find each other again. There is nothing more mortifying than to be forgotten. Your hand reaches his forearm and for once, he doesn’t flinch. Regulus presses kisses onto your wrist so that you can carry it with you tomorrow, until you ask him to replenish you with more. His nose glides along your hairline, pressing kisses so that your mind won’t forget. He hopes these acts of love reach your subconscious, that in every plane of existence, you know of him.

“I cannot wait to live the life I stayed for. This is all for you, my love. I promise.”

A sharp inhale comes from your nose as you shift, waking from a dream. Your lips carve another soft spot onto his chest, and he is utterly yours. Fingers reach to cradle his jaw, smiling sleepily as you settle back into his space. His mind is finally empty, finally at peace—even if it’s just for tonight, he can be just a boy in bed with the person he loves.

Sleep covers the both of you slowly, and gently. He shuts his eyes once more and lets it envelop him without a struggle. Yes, he doesn’t know much about love, but for you, he’ll figure it out. For now, Regulus Black is at ease.

—

Love,

you claim, comes close to this,

no space

between your words, a hand

over the other’s heart. How do you live

with this distance?

-Nick Flynn

taglist: @jsjcue

[perseabeth]

Milo’s Lyre

this is a one shot written about @anotheroceanid amazing fic titled When the Horizon Bloom, read it on AO3 you will enjoy it very much and get your heart broken in the most beautiful way possible. I published another one shot about this fic titled “What If” you can read it too- I got this idea last night during my angst hour with @anotheroceanid, and after few tears, and of course her inspiration, I decided that you should cry with us too! - i do not own the idea of the fic and i certainly do not own any character, all belong to the great author of the fic that made me cry more than my college curriculum enjoy ✨

Apollo no longer remembers how the dream began. He isn't even certain how he can dream at all. He once believed that gods were immune to such mortal experiences, but ever since his love vanished, dreams and nightmares have haunted him in every stolen moment he tries to delve into slumber. This dream, however, was different.

It was serene. Apollo sat upon a rock, a glittering sea stretching before him. His heart ached with a profound sorrow. The sea... How could he ever gaze upon the ocean again without seeing her eyes? How could he ever look at the waves and not remember the way they mirrored her gaze?

Sometimes, he would embark on frantic quests, searching for the sea that truly captured the color of her eyes, just to glimpse those sea-green eyes once more.

How long had it been? Seven years? For gods, time was an irrelevant concept, a fleeting notion in the face of immortality. Normally, seven years would pass as quickly as seven minutes. But these seven years... These years had stretched into millennia. He never knew time could crawl so slowly, could torture so mercilessly.

Apollo cradled his golden lyre, the instrument that once brought her such joy. He remembered the first time she heard him play, the radiant sparkle in her eyes, the breathtaking smile that stole his soul forever. His fingers, delicate and reverent, brushed against the strings, coaxing a serene melody from the lyre. Each note floated through the air like a whisper, and even the restless sea stilled its waves, entranced by the music.

Minutes passed in this harmonious reverie until Apollo felt a presence behind him—a presence so calm, so peaceful, carrying the unmistakable scent of the sea. Hope surged through him. Could it be his love? Could he finally see her in his dreams?

He turned his head slowly, afraid to wake from this fragile hope. As he did, his eyes met sea-green ones, and his heart melted, his soul awakening. Percy’s eyes… But something wasn’t right. The figure before him was a young boy, no older than six or seven, with golden curls that framed his face in a halo of sunlight. The boy was breathtakingly beautiful. Apollo's heart clenched as he took in the boy’s features. They reminded him of himself in one moment, and then of his love in the next, as if he were a perfect blend of them both.

Apollo's heart clenched. This boy… he looked like the son he might have had if Percy were still here. Shock rendered him speechless as he gazed into those familiar eyes. It was as if the child embodied the essence of their love, a living testament to a future that had been cruelly taken from them.

The boy stood cautiously, studying Apollo with a curious intensity. His golden locks tumbled over his forehead, and he wore a simple chiton that only enhanced his cherubic innocence.

“Can I see this, sir?” The boy’s voice was soft and melodic, yet firm and confident—far beyond his six years. His eyes darted to the lyre in Apollo’s hands, and Apollo finally realized what the boy wanted.

But Apollo was too shocked to speak. The boy stood silently, waiting for Apollo's response. When he finally understood, he nodded. “Of course.”

The boy took careful steps toward Apollo. As he stood before him, the sun god wondered who had raised this child. Most children snatched what they desired without hesitation; they didn’t wait politely for anything. Yet, this boy's sea-green eyes looked up at him with pure innocence and curiosity. He bent slightly to study the lyre, his hands kept respectfully to himself as if he were afraid to touch it.

Apollo realized the boy wouldn't touch the lyre unless he gave it to him.

“Here,” he extended the lyre to the boy. “You can hold it.

The boy hesitated, shaking his head. “No, no, it must be precious.” His voice was filled with a respectful reverence that belied his age, making Apollo's heart beats with admiration.

Apollo gave the young boy a gentle smile. “No, it will be fine here,” he said, pushing the lyre into the boy’s hands. The boy took it with utmost care, his eyes filling with wonder as he studied it. He looked at the lyre as if it were the eighth wonder of the world, his interest and amazement clear.

“Can I ask how you made it, sir? It is amazingly beautiful,” the boy asked, his curiosity shining with pure beauty and innocence.

Apollo smiled fondly, remembering how the lyre came into his possession. “My brother stole my cattle and gave this to me,” he chuckled.

The boy chuckled too, hiding his mouth with his small hands. “This reminds me of a story Mama tells me, about the sun god and the messenger of the gods.”

Apollo froze. The boy’s interest shifted back to the lyre, while Apollo tried to process the millions of questions racing through his mind. His mother told him stories? Apollo was about to ask more when the boy looked up and spoke in his soft, melodic voice. “If you don’t mind… can you,” the boy paused, choosing his words carefully, “can you teach me how to play it? The melody you played was beautiful.”

Apollo, still dumbfounded, watched the boy. “I think I figured out how to make it, but I want to play it for Mama. She seems sad lately, and she loves melodies so much. She sings me lullabies, but I don’t know any to sing for her. So maybe, maybe I can play her something nice that makes her smile.”

Questions swirled around Apollo’s mind. How could a child so young speak with such confidence and wisdom? But the most pressing question came to his lips. “Where is your mother?”

The boy, still focused on the lyre, answered, “On an island.”

“Where is the island?” Apollo asked.

The boy smiled as if Apollo had asked something silly, his smile bright and peaceful. “In the sea,” he said, then paused. “But Mama says the sea is dangerous.”

Apollo looked at the boy, confused. The boy’s answers seemed to reveal everything and nothing at the same time. Dangerous sea? He couldn’t be Percy’s son. Apollo's shoulders slumped. He couldn’t be Percy’s son. Perhaps his mind was creating illusions, offering a glimpse of a future he could never have, mixing him and Percy together to create the child Apollo had always dreamed Percy would carry.

Apollo looked into the boy’s eyes—Percy’s eyes—deciding that maybe, just maybe, he could live this dream for as long as it lasted. For as long as this dream allows him, he wants to imagine that this, indeed, is the child he created with his love. He held the boy’s hand, guiding him on where to place his fingers on the lyre. “Here, let me teach you” he said softly, positioning the small fingers with gentle precision on the lyre’s strings.

The boy was, in fact, the eighth wonder of the world, Apollo thought, as he looked at the young boy whose golden locks glowed in the sunlight.

Once—that was all the instruction the boy needed to create the most beautiful symphony Apollo had ever heard. The boy’s fingers danced over the strings with an innate skill, plucking and strumming as if he had been born for this. The melody flowed seamlessly, each note a shimmering thread weaving through the air, enchanting everything around them.

Apollo smiled fondly at the boy, who was also in amazement, his radiant smile outshining even the sun. The sea sparkled with the boy’s joy, and the sun, feeling almost humbled, began to set beyond the horizon, casting a golden portrait over the world.

Suddenly, the boy stopped and carefully extended the lyre back to Apollo. “I have to wake up now. Mama will wake up soon, and I can’t let her do things alone.”

Apollo’s brows knotted in confusion. “Where are we now?”

The boy smiled brightly. “We are dreaming, of course.”

Apollo took the lyre, looking at it before turning back to the boy. “You can have it.”

The young boy shook his head, making his golden locks jiggle. “It is a gift from your brother. It is precious.” He smiled, a smile that warmed Apollo’s soul, his beautiful sea-green eyes glowing with kindness. Apollo didn't want to wake up. He just wanted to see Percy’s eyes a little longer. Even if it was a hallucination, he wanted to remember those eyes longer.

The boy smiled at Apollo as he began to turn his head. “Thank you for helping me make Mama happy. Next time, when we meet, I’ll try to teach you something too.” And with that, the boy started walking away, slowly dissolving into the dream's fabric.

It didn't take long for Apollo to lose consciousness of the dream. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in his bed on Olympus, the morning light casting a gentle glow through his window.

Apollo sat on his bed, his chamber unchanged, Olympus glowing just as it always had. But his heart was heavy with a sorrow that even the gods would struggle to bear.

A sad smile graced Apollo’s lips—a smile that held an ocean of pain, a pain too deep for mortals to fathom. The Fates had always been cruel to him, but now even his own mind seemed to conspire in their cruelty, conjuring hallucinations to torment him.

A young boy, the eighth wonder of the world—a boy he could have had if Percy were still with him. If only she were here, somewhere beside him. He was certain she would have adored this boy, cherished him with all her heart. But he was not real.. And his Percy was not here.

Apollo rubbed his eyes, longing to wake up, to return to his duties, to mourn a girl whose disappearance remained a haunting mystery. And to mourn an imaginary son, whom he was certain he would never see again.

—————————

Gaea’s Island

Percy was puzzled by her son’s urgency that morning. After helping her with his brothers, he dashed outside, claiming to have something important to attend to.

She didn’t pry too much into Milo’s affairs, trusting that whatever he was up to, he knew how to avoid trouble, unlike her eldest, Hector. As long as it was Milo, she assured herself, he would be fine.

But Milo had been unusually preoccupied for days now. Whenever Percy found him, he would hastily hide something behind his back, claiming it was important. Percy didn’t dwell on it, assuming it was a surprise he didn’t want her to see. She smiled at the thought.

Then, she heard it—a beautiful melody that froze her in place. For a moment, she thought it was a dream, a hallucination conjured by her own longing. an image of a man with the most beautiful sky-blue eyes, creating serene melodies for her suddenly occupied her mind.. But the sound of footsteps snapped her back to reality. She followed the sound, Hector and Luke trailing behind her, until she suddenly stopped.

On the grass sat a young boy with golden locks, his sea-green eyes shining with joy as he looked up at her. Her Milo. In his hands, a wooden instrument created the most enchanting melody she had ever heard since she arrived to this island

It didn’t take long for Percy to realize what her son had made. Her heart swelled with oceans of emotions, pain, sorrow, pride and love as she beheld her precious Milo, crafting a lyre with his own small hands.

Percy approached Milo, her heart overflowing with a mixture of confusion and love. A single tear traced its way down her cheek as Hector and Luke stood nearby, mesmerized by the beautiful sound emanating from Milo's creation.

Milo looked up at her with a bright smile, but confusion clouded his features as he furrowed his brows. “You don’t like it, Mama? I made it for you.”

Without hesitation, Percy rushed forward, enveloping Milo in a tight embrace, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I love it… I love it so much.”

“Then why are you crying?” Milo asked, puzzled.

“They're tears of happiness, my love,” Percy whispered, her voice choked with emotion. Tears of happiness—tears of memories, pain, and pride. Tears of many things.

Milo pulled away, showing Percy the delicate wooden instrument he had crafted. “Here, let me show you more,” he said eagerly, his fingers deftly plucking at the strings.

As Milo played, Percy couldn’t help but notice how he resembled his father in that moment. Not a mere version, like Luke, but a reflection—a radiant embodiment of his father's spirit.

Then it struck her—how did Milo know about the lyre? It was Hermes who created it, nd given it to Apollo, later becoming Apollo's symbol. How could Milo know exactly what a lyre looked like? She had always believed that their father lived on in their souls, but she never imagined it would manifest in such a tangible way.

Puzzled, Percy looked at her son. “How did you learn to make this?”

Milo beamed at her, his eyes sparkling with the wisdom of the universe. “In my dream, of course, Mama.”

The answer did little to quell Percy’s bewilderment. She watched as her son proudly displayed his creation, insisting that she should smile because he had made it for her happiness. He even taught his brothers how to hold it so they could all bring joy to their mother.

She watched them take turns playing, each displaying a pure talent they hadn’t known they possessed

Her Milo, her precious children, and her precious lost love…

A few days later, the lyre disappeared from the island, as if it had never existed before.

[thirdeyeblue]

“Nine would have treated Martha better than Ten did”

I need to talk about this argument that never seems to stop circulating.

Note: Not a venomous/anti post. There’s more than enough of that across fandom spaces as is, and this is supposed to be a place for ✨sweet, blissful escapism✨

When making this argument, people seem to envision a scenario in which Nine never met Rose.

While I can appreciate a good hypothetical, recognizing Rose's significance to the Doctor (Nine and Ten) is essential to understanding why things with Martha played out the way they did in the first place.

In the third series, the Doctor is grieving. This grief is deliberately threaded into nearly every script, whether spoken aloud or not (and these are just a few examples):

He's burning in Rose’s wake the entire time Martha travels with him, which is why it’s so frequently called upon: It’s 100% deliberate in framing his grief. He grieved as Nine too, of course— having been fresh on the heels of the Time War — but then he met Rose, which changed everything.

Back then, he was still a rude, traumatized pain in the ass, but we watch Rose soften more of those jagged edges with every episode as they grow closer; as he lets his guard down and forms a deep connection with her.

He falls in love (against his better judgment) and it's game over.

And yes: provided S1E1 had been titled 'Martha', one can realistically assume things might have unfolded similarly to how they did with Rose. However, it wouldn’t have been that way just because the Doctor was Nine and “Nine was different” — it would be because he wasn’t already in love with someone else. The same can't be said for the start of S3.

Think of it like this: if Rose AND Martha had been in that cellar — if Nine had taken both of them along with him in S1 — we’d eventually be looking at the most melodramatic love triangle ever, what with him living in close quarters with two brilliant, gorgeous, compassionate young women... But Doctor Who is plenty “soap opera” as is with just one woman in the TARDIS.

(I certainly wouldn’t object to reading that fic, though)

Now, regarding the unrequited elephant in the room…

His inability to be romantic with Martha isn’t because he thinks her lesser, nor is it for lack of compatibility. It isn't because Rose is any better than her. It certainly isn’t just because he’s Ten.

It’s really only for one reason, which can't be denied — and now I’m a broken record:

He is still in love with Rose.

(cut from a tenrosedaily gif)

Nine is Ten, and Ten is only such a mess in S3 because he’s just lost the love of his life. Martha merely got caught in the crosshairs of a volatile Time Lord in mourning, and yes — it sucks. Absolutely.

But it also feels dismissive to chalk Ten and Martha’s relationship up to little more than some sort of mindless dance of pining, jealousy, and toxicity.

Ten trusted Martha with his life over and over again — and hers, with him. He constantly praised her brilliance, happily carting her around time and space with no intention of letting her go. In the BBC’s extended universe of novels/comics/cartoons/etc, there’s so much depth to their relationship: love and trust and trauma and sacrifice. They had their own special bond as mates, their own complexities — so it’s a bummer that it's forever overshadowed by the other things.

I’m not denying that there was a lot of stuff that sucked/was for sure toxic about Ten's S3 behavior, but so many of the things I've seen him catching flak for can be directly attributed to being A Clueless Fucking Alien Idiot (not a trait that’s unique to Ten) — as well as his flat-out obliviousness to Martha’s feelings.

So yes, I agree: if Rose never existed, he would have treated Martha differently as Nine. He also would have treated her differently as Ten. Certainly.

But Rose did exist, and when discussing canon, it matters.

“He tells me that he absolutely, 100% loves Rose... He tells me how my daughter; my wonderful, beautiful, clever little girl saved him from himself before… And he says that’s all because of me! I made her into the Rose Tyler that saved him.”

-Jackie Tyler, Flight Into Hull!

Martha got the short end of the stick in S3. She came round at the wrong place and time, but that doesn't mean it was all bad. It doesn't mean the Doctor didn’t adore her. It certainly doesn't mean the time they spent together was wasted or worthless. They were brilliant!

Sure, he could be a twat, but let it be known that he was a twat with Rose as well, both as Nine and Ten. I’m sure Tentoo can be plenty infuriating, too. So while I'll defend Ten (and Tentoo) into the ground forever and ever and ever, I'll concede that he's fucked up.

The Doctor is a certified Pain In The Ass. It’s one of the things I love so much about this character — dynamics.

But never forget that Martha was goddamn tough as nails and overcame every bit of it. She moved on with her life, and the Doctor moved on with his. One can only pray that, when they inevitably drag her back onto the show (which feels inevitable if I'm honest), we see at once that she's been living her best life for all these years.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

(The Bride of Lucifer AU)

(This AU will have fem Adam who will be named Adele and my voice choice for her will be Idina Menzel who was the original Elphaba on Broadway and the voice of Elsa in the Frozen movies)

Long ago there was a golden city called Heaven ruled over by a benevolent being named God who created angels to bring light and goodness to all he created. His most powerful angel and most attractive angel was a being created from a morningstar that God named Lucifer Morningstar. Because he had God’s favor the other angels looked upon Lucifer with scorn wondering why he had the favor of God especially his twin brother Michael. Lucifer was lonely and made a wish to have someone he could love with all of his heart and would love him with all of their heart. One day God asked for Lucifer to come to Earth specifically the Garden of Eden, a special place that was full of life and peace.

Lucifer: You asked for me to come here Holy Father?

God moved aside and Lucifer was amazed at the beautiful being before him. She was a woman, but she wasn’t an angel. She had long brown hair that went to her knees. She had soft skin with a light tan and a light sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and nose. Her large eyes were honey brown framed by soft fluffy eyelashes. She was taller than Lucifer, but for some reason he didn’t mind. She had large breasts and curves at her hips giving her an hour glass figure. She was completely naked except for a veil made from spider silk used to weave webs and a crown made of flowers. God explained that this was a human woman named Adele, a new species he had created and she was to be Lucifer’s wife.

Lucifer: My wife?

God explained that usually humans would love and breed with other humans, but he made an exception with Adele because she was his greatest creation and Lucifer had wished for a companion. A wife was someone you made love to and she would bear children, Adele was made to love Lucifer and Lucifer would now love her as well. Lucifer then felt something enter his heart as he looked upon his bride and he knew it was love. He also felt his body react in a way he never felt before, a very good feeling that he realized was desire.

Adele: I hope I am to your liking because I am happy that I was created to love you.

Lucifer’s heart fluttered, even her voice was divine. God had Lucifer and Adele hold hands and say the vows that would forever bind them as husband and wife. They were then told to kiss which they both did eagerly. God said he was giving the newly married couple alone time to get to know each other in all ways before he would have some other angels come back to create another human couple.

Not only was Adele beautiful, but she was very smart in naming things in the garden and showing them to her husband. They had spent the whole day going around the garden looking at plants and animals, it was clear his bride loved nature.

Adele: I thought you would like this one the best, it's a yellow duck.

Lucifer smiled: It's adorable darling.

Adele smiled and held the little duckling close to her, she petted it with her finger. Lucifer couldn't take his eyes off of her, she was mesmerizing. She let the duckling go and turned to Lucifer.

Adele got a soft flush to her cheeks: Would...... Would you want to mate with me?

Lucifer felt his desire rise and he felt his dick twitch, something it's never done before.

Lucifer: I would love to.

Adele laid down on the soft lush green grass, her hair all around her and a shy look on her face as she spread her legs showing off the most delicate part of her body.

Lucifer removed his robe and hovered over her, hands on either side of her head and he slowly guided himself into her welcoming wet cavern. She took all of him, Adele gasped and moaned he felt so good and she felt so full.

He did what felt natural and thrusted into her as he kissed her lips, Adele held onto him, she never wanted to let him go.

Lucifer: You're so perfect, perfect for me.

Adele: Oh Luci.~

Lucifer reached down and played with her clit, something just told him to do so and it helped his bride climax, Adele spasmed around him and Lucifer moaned at the feeling. He came inside of her as deeply as he could.

Adele: I hope we made a baby.

Lucifer: Me too. I love you.

Adele: I love you too Luci.

They kissed again and gazed deeply into each other's eyes.

Adele: Say you'll always love me

Lucifer: I will love you always.

[penelopepine]

Forever in Your Gaze Pt. 2

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Fem Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: Night at the museum AU. Gaz and Reader are both paintings directly across from one another, and have been in love for many years now. The only thing is that they are unable to actually leave the confines of their canvas, and have never felt others touch.

Word Count: 1608

Content: Established relationship, fluff, light angst

Kyle is very unprepared for when the barrier finally broke. He ends up falling out of his frame, and ends up landing flat on his back on the floor. While trying to gain his bearing Kyle can vaguely hear shouting all around him. 

His ears are ringing, and everything at the moment is spinning. It takes a good few minutes to finally come back to himself. When he does the first thing he clearly sees is his painting. It is exactly as it was except that he is no longer visible in it. Kyle feels like he’s having an out of body experience looking up at it. This is the first time he’s ever seen it from this side before. 

The mumbled shouting also becomes much more clear and loud as well. He realizes that the other paintings that were around him are all yelling. As far as Kyle is aware he is the first to actually leave the frame. He knows that he would also be shocked if he had witnessed what he just did. He can’t stay and speak to them though; he needs to help the others find you. 

It's strange how different standing and walking around his painting is compared to the real world. Kyle has to steady himself on the wall as he walks through the door he watched his friends leave out of. He's never actually seen the rest of the museum outside of his area. Kyle knows that he's going to need help figuring out where everything is.

"Price! Soap! Ghost!" He calls out while wandering down the halls. He has no fucking idea where is right now. After a few more minutes of cluelessly walking and shouting Kyle finally sees a familiar figure running towards him, "Soap!" 

"Gaz?" Soap grabs onto his shoulders making Kyle stand face to face with him. Shock is the only thing on his friend's face clearly wondering how he is out of the painting. 

"What? Don't recognize me now that I’m not hanging up on a wall?" Kyle says while smiling at the man in front of him. 

Soap only grins before pulling him into a tight hug. Kyle can't believe that after all this time he's finally able to touch his friend. He's spent so many years inside that painting never being able to truly connect with those that walked by; it's overwhelming finally being able to feel others. 

The two stand there holding each other before Soap suddenly breaks away, placing his hands back on Kyle's shoulders and shaking him lightly, "You're out! How are you out?" 

That actually causes him to pause for a moment because he doesn't know how he got out. He just pushed on the barrier, and then he was out. It doesn't make sense for him to be out. "I…I don't know." Kyle whispers. 

"We'll figure it out later. It doesn’t matter right now; all that matters is that you're out!" Soap shakes him again with a laugh before abruptly gasping, "The others! We have to take you to the others; they're in the lobby right now trying to look up where your girl is." 

Kyle upon hearing that is quick to remember why he’s even here, "Let's go! The sooner we find her the better.” 

At this point walking is much easier for Kyle and he only needs to put one hand on Soap’s shoulder as he leads them to where everyone is. While walking there though he can’t help but be amazed at everything around him. Kyle has spent his entire life in one area of the museum and now it’s like he’s a whole different world. He only wished that he could have experienced all this for the first time with you. 

When the two of them finally enter the lobby both Ghost and Price’s backs are turned to them. They appear to be huddled together over a computer; clearly not detecting their presence as of yet. 

“Oi, lads! Look who I found stumbling around the halls!” Soap calls out to the other two. 

Turning around they clearly weren’t expecting to see Kyle based on the looks on their faces. Curiosity quickly turned into shock upon seeing him in the flesh. 

"Gaz?" Price stands from his seat, and marches straight towards him like a man on a mission. He stops a foot in front of Kyle with a million questions clearly on his mind. 

"Price," Kyle gives him a toothy grin, "good to see you face to face. It's strange not being the one looking down on you though." 

With a deep chuckle Price grabs Kyle and brings him into a tight hug that lasts for several seconds. Before releasing him with a few pats on the shoulder. With that Kyle turns towards his other friend, Ghost. 

Ghost is already standing by Price's side when he is let go. He knows Ghost is not one for being touched so he only reaches a hand out to him. What surprises Kyle though is when Ghost grabs his hand and yanks him into his chest. “Hello, Gaz.” He also whispers before letting go. 

“Hello, Ghost.” He says back with a quick nod. 

“Not that I’m disappointed to see you lad, but how are you standing here right now?” Price tentatively asks. 

Kyle figured that him being out would be a big conversation topic for a while; at least until they can figure out how he did it. He only wished he had a better answer to give. “I honestly don’t know. I just kept pushing and pushing on the barrier, and the next thing I know I’m on the ground.” 

“What happens if we can’t get him back in the painting?” Ghost directs his question towards Price. 

“We’ll get him back in.” Price says certainly before turning his attention back to Kyle, “You’re going to be fine lad; don’t worry.”

“I’m truly more worried about finding my girl. Do you know where she is yet?”

"We are looking into it now," Price leads him to the computer where the screen shows a long list, "This is everything that was moved to storage today, and needs to be properly put away for safekeeping. The only problem is that she is nowhere to be found on said list." 

"What does that mean? Is she not being put in storage then?"

"I'm sure it's just a mistake, Shepherd is the one that put this list together after all." Price gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, "She's still in the building; we'll find her."  

Price then turns back to the computer to continue his search in all the files. While he does, Kyle thinks about how you must be feeling right now. He had the comfort of waking up in a place that was familiar to him; you on the other hand were somewhere completely different. He at the very least hoped that you weren’t alone wherever you were. 

It wasn’t until Price all of a sudden stops his typing, and turns to face Kyle does he snap out of his thoughts about you. “I know where she is.” 

“Where!” Kyle is immediately ready to go as soon as those words are uttered to him. It frustrates him that he wouldn’t even know which direction to go in though. He needs to find a map layout of this place and fast. 

“Lad, why don’t you just take a seat for a second.” Price gives a look towards Ghost and Soap subtly letting them know that things might get hectic in just a moment. 

“What is it Price? What are you trying to say?” Kyle refuses to sit. He saw the look Price gave the others, and he was not going to go down without a fight. Not when it comes to you. 

“She’s not on the to be stored list because she’s not being stored,” He calmly states, “She’s set to be moved to a different museum in just a week.” 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“No, I refuse to let that happen.” Kyle feels the angriest he’s ever been in his life at this moment. 

How dare they. 

How fucking dare Shepherd to do this. 

“Gaz!” Soap grabs his shoulder, “Don’t worry we’ll think of something. Your lass isn’t going anywhere.” 

"She's not gone yet; don’t act like she is." Ghost says next, "Where is she Price?" 

"She's over in the docking area right now. The truck will be coming next Friday to pick her up." 

With that, Ghost gives Kyle a light push towards one of the halls, “This way then.” 

This seems to snap Price and Soap out of it, and the two are quick to step in line with them.  They continue to give Kyle reassures that you’re ok, but he doesn’t say anything back. He’s too caught up in his own head to take in what they’re saying right now. 

The closer they got to the docking bay the quieter it got. People tend to stick to the main areas it seems. Which is why when he hears a familiar sounding wail Kyle doesn't think, and just starts running. Using your voice to guide him. 

He doesn't even bother to look back as the others call out his name; the only thing that matters is finding you. It breaks his heart though when he does. 

Your frame is underneath a sheet, keeping you in the dark as you cry out. 

As soon as Kyle is within reach of you he is tearing the sheet off, and dropping to his knees. Letting the first thing you see again be him; just like how everything is meant to be. 

Note: I freaking love this so much, and I'm so excited to continue this story!!!

Taglist: @zarsghost @nexthyperfix @kaoyamamegami

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Sensitive (Halsin Silverbough x Reader)

synopsis: For what feels like in forever the party stays in an inn, yet the proper bed also comes with a very fidgety lover. So what else are you supposed to do other than to help him fall asleep?

warnings: teasing, kinda ruined orgasm, smut, p in v, afab reader

word count: 1k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @foxyanon

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by me

After years of being together, you thought it was safe to assume you know your partner. His body at least. Yet that was entirely untrue. There was still always more to explore.

“My apologies, I only meant to check in on you. I never meant to disturb you.” Halsins soft voice sounds through the room you used to bathe in. You are just wrapping a towel around yourself as he approaches.

“I believe you are incapable of ever disturbing me, in truth.” You reply in a tone that is only reserved for him in its gentleness.

“Oh, but I have. You were taking a moment to unwind, something you have not done in far too long.” He insists until you finally lay your hands on his chest to shut him up.

“Halsin, are you watching me?” You ask with a smirk. “And what of you? When have you last allowed yourself a moment of respite?”

He shuffles his feet and adverts his eyes from yours.

“You have been looking out for everyone for far too long now. We have a real bed to sleep in tonight. Let us make the most of it.”

It has been gods know how long since you had slept or even simply laid in a real bed. Thinking about it now, you couldn't even properly remember the last time and laying down together promised a night full of wonderful, refreshing sleep without any back or joint pain in the morning.

Hadn't there been your lover's restlessness. Halsin did his best to hide the notion, but you knew him better than that. It was clearly visible in the way he carried himself, in his mimic, the very core of his being almost. So, what were you supposed to do. After hours of him tossing and turning, but to distract him, any way you could. Only to, in the end, straddle him to give him a relaxing massage. Small hands kneading taut muscles in a last-ditch effort to get him to calm enough to fall asleep.

Said massage then soon devolved into Halsin pressing you into the worn mattress, fingers intertwined and his hips grinding against yours as he left hot, wet kisses all over your neck.

You writhe and grind against his large form. Searching to get, but also bring, more pleasure. Halsin’s hands leave your wrists, to run down your arms over your breasts and sides, down to guide your movements by your hips.

Free to touch the druid as you please, your own hands caress his muscular chest feeling the surprisingly soft skin and coarse hair, holding onto his strong biceps for a moment and then cupping his cheeks sharing in the warmth of his eyes and the moment. However, they don't rest there for long as the tips of your fingers find the shell of his ears, tracing them with feather light caresses. It wasn´t new to either of you that Halsin had quite sensitive ears, yet the full extent of it would only be revealed at this moment. Upon touch, a half growl half gasp leaves his lungs that turns into a whine just as fast, his eyes falling half close. There are only traces left of the hot and heavy tension from just moments before, both of you pretty taken back by what has just happened. 

Being the first to get a grasp on the situation, you use the moment surprise to flip the two of you around. It never failed to amaze how easily Halsin’s massive frame would mold into the position you wanted him in these moments. The two of you share a long-lasting look, when you finally brush your thumb over the tip of his ear again. This time intentionally, elongating the motion to trace the long shell of his ear. The gray outer ring on his pretty eyes sparkles up the hazel inner ring darkening with need as his eyelids flutter shut. Alternating brushing your fingers against his ear and carding them through his hair, you gently pinch his earlobe and watch his hips roll forward involuntarily, as if they had developed a mind of their own.

The druid's hips press up into yours, desperately searching for friction against your heated centre.

You take in his every shuddering breath and the way his mouth forms around the words when he tells you he loves you. If you weren´t before, the sounds that leave his lips as you continue to tease his ears get you obsessed with seeing him like this. Splayed out underneath you, writhing in enjoyment as you bring him closer to the edge of his sanity. That is when your clothes carelessly get thrown into the room, anything to free you of them to be skin to skin as fast as possible. Halsin doesn't waste any time to split you open on his thick cock. The pace with which your hips meet is frenzied, your hands growing shaky with desire and need to feel the others skin under the pads of your fingers. His thrusts are precise, hitting all the right spots inside of your velvety walls that make your hands quake against his body, raking your nails over the warm skin and through the thick hair until it becomes too much and you have to rest them against the sizable chest. Through his animalistic grunts and your moans, far away through the haze of gratification as his thumb begins to rub tight circles into the tight bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs, there is a faint knocking against the wall. However, you can´t bring yourself to care.

As the two of you near climax again, Halsin holds your body up by the hips to fuck into you mercilessly, bringing you over the edge first, before following right after as your cunt spasms around his hardness.

The two of you collapse against the bed as you are still feeling the waves of bliss crash over you, too exhausted to keep upright any longer. Not a single word is exchanged as the two of you are catching your breath yet you can still feel the warmth and safety of his arms wrapping around you. A few moments later soft snores replace the space that not too long ago was taken up by sounds of pleasure, steadily growing louder. Smiling to yourself, you shift to make yourself comfortable and with Halsin´s softening length still inside of you, you slip off into the world of dreams as well.

[runnning-outof-time]

Congrats on 350 followers, Madelyn @jomarch-wannabe ! I hope you like this little, fluffy story that I thought up almost immediately after reading the prompt I picked - it’s italicized in the story! I couldn’t help but add little touches of Jane Eyre into the moodboard as well. I hope I didn’t go too sappy on this one - Enjoy! 💕

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Thinkin’ ‘Bout Forever

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: none…just a bunch of sappiness and maybe a bit of Tommy being ooc

Summary: (Y/N) asks Tommy a question that’s been burning in her brain for the longest time. She gets a rather surprising response.

“Do you think we’ll be in love forever?”

“What?” Tommy asked upon hearing (Y/N) speak out of nowhere. She spoke so suddenly that he wasn’t able to properly catch what she was saying. He turned away from the mirror, where he was adjusting the cufflinks of his shirt, and fixed his gaze on (Y/N), who was standing by the windows of their shared bedroom.

“You and I…do you think we’ll be in love forever?” she repeated herself, looking over at him once she was finished speaking.

Tommy let out a breath of a laugh, looking away from her the second she met his gaze. He glanced down at the floor, setting his hands on his hips as he cleared his throat. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to answer that, love,” he told her, looking in her direction again.

“A simple yes or no would suffice,” she answered nonchalantly, tipping her chin up slightly as a smile played on her lips.

Tommy looked away again, licking his lips as he ran a hand down the back of his head. He then refound her gaze, holding it for a few moments before he began walking in her direction without a word. A glint of surprise shined in (Y/N)’s eyes as she watched him move, wondering what he’d do next.

He reached out and took hold of her waist, making her giggle as he pulled her in closer to his frame. She glanced down and grabbed onto the sides of the unbuttoned waistcoat he was wearing, wondering how he’d react if she went about buttoning it up. She didn’t have much time to wonder though, because in seconds, he reached up and gently took hold of her chin, tipping it upwards so that their eyes could meet again.

“Since when’ve you been thinkin’ ‘bout forever, eh?” he asked her, his one eyebrow rasied.

(Y/N) pursed her lips together as she tried her best not to let her feelings show through her features. Inside she was heating up quickly, unable to keep her cool under his close, intense gaze. There was something present in his eyes, something unreadable, but not entirely foreign. No, she’d seen it before…he always seemed to have that look when his eyes were fixed on her.

“Hmm?” he asked her when she didn’t respond.

“I just…I think about it sometimes,” she answered this time around, hoping that she didn’t sound like some kid who was sheepishly admitting that they’d did something wrong. Because this wasn’t something she’d done wrong.

“Yeah?” his single word response came out like a question. He’d always answer this way when he caught on to the fact that she wasn’t sharing all of her thoughts…like she wasn’t now.

“Yeah,” she responded, nodding as best should could with her chin trapped between his fingers, “don’t you ever think about forever?” she turned the question back on him, eyes shining again.

“Love, forever’s a long time…” he told her, watching to see how she’d react to the first part of his sentence. Her expression didn’t show anything, but he could feel her posture slump slightly in his hold. He searched her eyes for a moment before continuing, “but I can’t say that I haven’t thought about spending it with you.”

“Tommy,” she couldn’t help but breathe out when she heard the second half of his statement. He was usually a man of few words when it came to sappy or romantic situations, choosing instead to let his actions do the talking. But now that she’d heard him say this she was sure that she’d feel the desire to coax these sort of declarations out of him daily.

“You asked the question,” he reminded her, his thumb brushing against her chin, “I was just answerin’ it for you.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t supposed to make me want to go weak at the knees with your answer,” she defended herself, glancing down at his waistcoat as she fiddled with the buttons of it.

“What were you expecting?” he decided to ask, dropping his hand back to where his other sat on the swell of her hips, his thumbs rubbing circles into the fabric of her dress as he awaited her response.

“I…I don’t know, but I can’t quite say that I was expecting that,” she sheepishly answered, definitely sounding like a child who’d done something wrong…although she still hadn’t done something wrong.

“Were you expecting some half-assed response? Eh?” he questioned, the slight pressure he placed on her hips making her look up at him again, “were you expecting me to dodge the question entirely?”

“Honestly…?” she trailed off with a question, her eyebrow raised as she held the pause for a few moments, trying to push back the grin that was threatening to surface as she noticed his look of anticipation. “Yes, I was expecting that,” she then told him, her smile breaking through as she saw the look of surprise that formed on his face.

“Well, love,” he started, trying to hold his composure as he let out a breath of a laugh, “I’ll say that it’s hard not to think of forever when I’ve got someone like you.” He expected her to laugh at his sappy statement. He expected her to want to break away and go and tell every and anybody that she could that Tommy Shelby’s cold front had been cracked, but she didn’t.

“I know what you mean,” she said instead, a soft smile forming on her face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “and that’s because I’ve got you.”

Tommy chuckled softly before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. She gasped against his lips, surprised by the sudden kiss, but she didn’t dare pull away. Letting go of the now properly fastened waistcoat, she brought her hands up to his cheeks, holding him close as the kiss deepened.

“I don’t know why you buttoned that,” he mumbled against her lips, referring to the waistcoat she’d finally abandoned.

“I know how to unbutton it just as well,” she told him, kissing him through a grin as his hold on her tightened. She couldn’t help but lean back against the window’s ledge, allowing him to slot his leg between hers as she propped herself up slightly.

“Forever, eh?” he asked, pulling back just enough to match his eyes to hers. He saw them brighten, and that alone was enough to bring a smile to his features.

“Forever,” she agreed, tugging on his jaw so that their lips could meet again.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

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