#and it'll feel like you're with him even when you're not

[captain-huggy-bear]

comforting Quinn after one the awful games the canucks have had as of late

Oh he's had a rough time of it lately our Captain but I do feel like we're on the way up! Winning streak here we come! Fingers crossed, anyway!

The way Quinn storms into the apartment is the first sign that he's taking this run of bad luck hard, that this most recent loss has finally caused him to snap. The door is slammed open, slammed shut, his shoes are practically thrown off, he's stomping around like the entire world is against him. The way he pulls open the fridge is so harsh the door creaks.

All it takes is one little thing, the way a red pepper falls out of the fridge and rolls across the floor when Quinn's going to get something for dinner, for him to lose it a little.

"It's fucking bullshit!" You're watching silently from the couch, the way his shoulders heave, tense, so tense all the muscles in his back are pulled taunt, the way his head falls onto the fridge door, how his hands clench into fists, unclench, and clench again.

Quinn's not an angry person, he's not a yeller or a fighter. He's calm, collected, but sometimes it's all too much. You know he's not yelling about the pepper. He's yelling because this recent loss in a string of losses is the last straw, because he's fed up of carrying his team, because he's fed up of the disappointed fans, the stress of potential trades, all the bullshit and drama when he just wants to play good hockey.

There's not really any words that can help, you know that, so you don't say anything. You just pad across from the living area into the kitchen on quiet feet and slide your arms around his waist from behind. Your cheek presses into the middle of his back while you press as close to him as possible.

At first he seems to tense more and you consider pulling back, maybe this isn't what he needs right now and that's okay. But, when you start to loosen your grip Quinn's shoulders slump, tension leaving even as he grips your arms around his waist and pulls you back tight against him, like the thought of you walking away is too much.

"I love you, y'know? Even if things aren't going well, that's not going to change..." It's the only thing you can think to say as Quinn's forehead rests against the close fridge door, as you mould yourself to his back in an effort to provide some sense of support, some sense of belonging.

You've never seen Quinn cry, but this changes it all. Maybe it's the reassurance, maybe the love in your voice or just the fact that he feels like a failure of a captain, like he can't bring his own team together into a cohesive unit. Whatever it is, he cries in front of you for the first time, shoulders shaking silently as he sniffles and tries to wipe the tears away frantically before you can see them.

"This is so fucking stupid," You know he's talking about crying over the losses and you hate that he thinks it's stupid because it's not. His words are what have you turning him around so that you can see his face, the way his green eyes are red rimmed and water, the wet tracks that run over his cheeks.

"Quinn...it's not stupid. You're allowed to be upset. To be angry. You work so hard for this team...I get it, it feels like it's not paying off...not going your way..." You cup his face in your hands, his short beard scratching your palms as your fingers brush away some of the wetness on his cheeks, brushing away at each new tear that trickles out against his wishes, wetting his long lashes. "I don't know when it'll get better, when the wins will come in, but they will. You work so hard, it'll happen...you just gotta keep holding on a little longer,"

"Fuck..." His forehead falls against yours, leaning down as he moves into you, it's like he's trying to take some of your strength and you wish you could give him it all. Wish you could take every ounce of frustration, anger and sadness he was feeling and weather the storm for him.

His braced hand comes to your waist and you're careful when you put your hand over top of it, but it's intentional as you start the conversation you've been avoiding for weeks.

"You need to start looking after yourself more first. Starting with not playing with this hand until it's better." The way he looks down at you says it all, that he hates the idea, but you know better. Each day his hand isn't getting better, each game he's more worn down. He's going to break himself in two, he's going to cause permanent damage if he's not careful.

"But..."

"But?"

"We'll lose if I don't play...or lose worse anyway," the last bit muttered under his breath with derision, at the fact that even when he's on the ice the wins aren't coming...and when he's not? Oh, it's a whole lot worse.

"Maybe you need to have more faith in them, the guys are good...yeah, you're amazing, you're the best player on that team, but maybe you need to trust that they'll pull through for you? Maybe they need to feel like you can rely on them." Your hands slip from his cheeks, arms sliding to wrap around his neck gently, chest to chest, feet bumping against each other as you sway in the kitchen.

"I just...I don't want to sit out." You know Quinn doesn't. The idea of not playing hockey is like a nightmare to him, but you also know that makes him a bad judge of his own health, his own tolerance, when to quit. Sometimes he needs a reminder.

"I know you don't, baby...you live and breathe hockey...but I'm scared," The look he gives you is startled, like Quinn couldn't comprehend that his behaviour had any impact on you, his arms tightening around your waist as if that might protect you from your own feelings, "I'm scared you're going to permanently hurt yourself, Quinn...please, just...take some time off games."

There's a long pause where Quinn watches you, as if he's trying to figure out if you're truly scared for his wellbeing. Whatever he must see must confirm it for him, that you're worried about him, because as he slides his hands up your spine in a gentle, soothing caress, he agrees.

"Okay."

"Thank you..." You really do mean it. You're worried about him, day and night, but especially whenever he picks up a stick at the moment. Always waiting for the call that tells you he's done something permanent, hurt something beyond repair.

"I love hockey...but I love you more, baby." He hates the idea of sitting out on games, but he hates the idea of you worrying more, of the fear in your eyes at the prospect he's not resting properly, hurting himself more. If taking a few games off will make you feel better? He can do it...the team can't get much worse at the moment anyway.

[solifloris]

≡;-꒰ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒄𝒐𝒛𝒚

╰┈➤ ❝ caleb x afab!reader | VALENTINE'S EVENT !

tags : mostly fluff, slightlyyyyy suggestive at the start but nothing explicit, established relationship, use of pet names "baby" and "pipsqueak".

wc : 1.6k (oops)

an : DROPPING THIS BEFORE I GO TO BED :D requested by @starmocha !!!! this prompt had me squealing hehe 🥰🥰🥰

taglist : under the cut! (SIGN UP HERE)

ko-fi jar / commissions

It's 1AM, and you're hungry, so what better place to go than the convenience store down the block?

"I'm hungry."

The sheets rustled.

Caleb shifted onto his side to look at you, head resting in his palm, eyebrows raised. You could see the way his eyes raked over you appreciatively for a moment, almost as if seeing you in a new light again, almost as if he hadn't been all over you just a couple of minutes ago.

With his free hand, he reached out to tuck an awry strand of hair behind your ear. It was a soft gesture.

yet when he spoke, there was a laugh to his voice. "You're hungry?"

You whined. "Not that kind of hungry! Like, actually hungry! Come onnnnnn. Aren't you?"

"Baby, it's past midnight. Aren't you tired? You should be a good girl and get some rest—"

Despite the phrase deliberately used—you were sure—to bring butterflies to your stomach, you promptly gave him a playful shove. "Well, I'm not gonna be able to sleep if I'm hungry, anyway. So your attempts at persuading me are void!"

To make a point, you sat up and crosses your arms, looking at him expectantly.

An impasse, of sorts.

The two of you looked at each other, silent, a few seconds—

Caleb was the first to relent.

"Alright, alright, we'll get some food. There's that convenience store down the block, that enough?" He sat up along with you and slipped out of bed, trodding towards his closet to throw you one of his sweaters. "It'll be cold out, so wear that for a while. Just a lil somethin' to keep you warm."

You held it close to your chest—it smelled like him. And it was as if you weren't already in his t-shirt, anyway; as if he hadn't left enough of his own marks on you that night, but you were happy to have a little something on you that reminded you of him.

You hopped out of bed yourself and, to make a point, grabbed one of his caps to put on your head.

"Ready!"

And perhaps it was because it was late, and barely anyone would be outside anyway, but it seemed neither of you cared that you'd be leaving in your pajamas.

Caleb tugged at your hand, pulling you close.

"I hope you know that I love seein' you in my clothes," he chuckled. "Makes you look extra gorgeous."

And you could think to yourself that you were so used to his charm, maybe even desensitized… but he would always find ways to prove you wrong. An additional kiss to your forehead had you melting in an instant, and then he still had the audacity to send you a wink.

"Caleb!" you huffed as he pulled away and ushered you outside, the gleeful sound of his laughter never failing to astonish you.

Seriously, the audacity of this man!

And yet you couldn't quite complain, not with the way your heart filled with a complete and utter sense of fondness for him. It didn't matter the hour, didn't matter that the breeze of the dawn before you made you feel a little cold. He squeezed your hand and quietly put it into his pocket… and, really—with your hand in his and his presence beside you, it was all the warmth you could ever need.

As you walked to the convenience store, your free hand took a glance at the time on your phone.

"1:43AM," you mused, "on… February 14th. Huh, look at that! So our Valentine's date this year's to a convenience store?"

You felt him peek over your shoulder, and he let out a laugh. "Guess it is Valentine's, huh? Happy Valentine's Day, pipsqueak." He gave your hair a little ruffle, before the little jingle of your very destination had him tugging you through the doors.

As you expected: quite empty.

He nudged your arm. "I mean, I'm still takin' you out for a date later today," he shrugged, "but as an extra treat, then you've got free reign gettin' whatever you want. I'll pay."

Immediately your eyes brightened, a squeal falling from your lips enough to draw a quizzical stare from the cashier lady, and you squeezed his arm. "Really?!"

"Yeah, really!"

"Oh my god! You better not go back on that promise!"

"Be real. When have I ever, with you?"

You felt another surge of warmth rush through you, and you stood on your tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips. "God, I love you!"

And it wasn't really as if you didn't have a little bit of your own snack stash still left at home, but who were you to refuse a free gift?

There was a bounce to your step as you walked through the aisles, and you supposed that neither of you were acting as if it were practically two in the morning. The irony stood—despite everything else being quiet around you two, there was enough joy in the simplest things with him to get you all bouncy like this.

You turned to him with your arms full of little snacks, and laughed as you held one up for him. "Hey! Remember this one? The first time you brought this home, it was 'cause some girl from your class got you this." The memory made you laugh, and you turned the packet over in a moment of nostalgia. "I haven't had these in forever, for some reason, but they were really good. That girl had taste…"

A flick to your forehead.

"Hey!"

He snatched a couple of the packets you were carrying and put them into the basket he was holding, all while giving you a pointed look. "Doesn't matter who got them first," he scoffed, "'cause I brought them home for you."

A smile played on your lips.

"Well… she wasn't the first to give you stuff, nor was she the last."

"Aaand like I said, it doesn't matter."

This time, you grinned and tiptoed to return the forehead flick he'd given you just earlier. "Why're you so upset about it? Of course the golden boy would always get so much attention from all the girls—"

"Sooo I'd get all that attention from 'em, and then disregard their gifts just so you'd have somethin' to have fun with when we got home."

You paused, and he gave a playful roll of his eyes.

"I gotta hand it to ya, pipsqueak, sometimes you spend a lil too much time up there in the clouds."

"What!?"

He held up a box of cookies that you were familiar with.

"This one's been your favorite for as long as I can remember. Some girl gave one of these to me back in middle school… But I knew you'd love 'em. So I gave 'em to you."

Another box of snacks.

"You always say you don't like these, but I see you sneak them back to your room when no one's lookin'… Happened to get this as a gift, too, so I left them in your room when we got back."

And you watched, somewhat amazed, as he held up the very same packet you'd been examining earlier.

"And, sure, maybe you've never had this one before… But you were always a lil adventurous. It was strawberry. I remember, 'cause you like strawberries. So I thought you might've wanted to give this a try, too."

Your gaze followed his movements as he took the liberty to grab a couple more snacks from the shelves, and though he turned back to you with a smile, you found your mind still reeling from what he'd said.

It was always you. From the very start, he…

"I've always watched you," he said simply. Because he could read you like an open book, and some things just don't change. He shrugged, leaned down towards you to give the tip of your nose a little poke. "I saved those for you, 'cause I know you. And you think any of those girls ever mattered to me? Nah. It was always just about you. And you got to relish in all those little snacks, so, you know. Win-win situation if I get to make you happy."

For a moment you didn't speak, and you felt the blush slowly begin to creep up your cheeks.

You'd never realized it before; maybe never even bothered to check for yourself.

Sure, you maybe thought all of those were from him, and, sure, when you found out they weren't directly, you felt a little upset, but…

It was more than just material to poke fun at him for being popular.

Your eyes softened. "So… you were thinking about me."

"Pshh. I always think about you, baby. Not a moment goes by where I don't."

You watched him walk away with a wave of his hand, under the guise of 'checking out the drinks while you think of what else you wanted', and a flurry of butterflies stirred anew in your heart.

As you hurried to catch up with him and stood by him at the counter, he chuckled. "I always thought you'd find out then and there how much I liked you, you know."

"I guess you were being obvious about it, in a way…"

"Yeah, and you were too busy relishing in the free snacks."

"Hey!"

He laughed, grabbing the bag of your little snack haul, and smoothly looped your arms back together.

"Weeelll," he hummed, "now you get to say with certainty that all this here's from me. And I get to do this…"

The minute you stepped outside the convenience store, he leaned down to give you a soft kiss. And again, you'd think—there couldn't possibly be a cozier place to be than right here with him in this moment.

"���You don't need to use gifts from someone else to get me snacks anymore," you laughed a little.

"Mhm, I can get 'em for you myself. And seal it with a lil kiss."

taglist : @darlingdummycassandra @daturasflower @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @raiyuxa @xai-mery @pikachuzhc @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @hunters-association

© solifloris. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[inkedbybarnes]

blind date

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: convinced that bucky will never like you back, you agree to a blind date arranged for you to forget about him.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: fluff. two idiots pining over each other (i know, i know. i love the trope). blind dates (they honestly scare me). boundaries being crossed. not so gentleman of a blind date. protective & grumpy bucky (yes, that's a warning!). pet names such as doll. lowercase writing. not proofread.

notes: happy 500 followers to us! hehe. sorry it took long, i waited until i reached that milestone and we finally did! we're growing in our small delulu home, and i love it. <3 i hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“come on! tell me more about this mystery guy.”

natasha plopped down the couch beside you while she held a pint of ice cream in her hand and a spoonful on its way to her mouth. you were talking about the blind date that sam arranged for you, and she hasn't stopped asking questions since you mentioned it.

“there's really nothing to tell besides that he's a guy looking for a date and that he's friends with sam. i'm actually surprised that sam set this all up, but i trust him, you know? maybe it'll be nice,” you answered, ignoring the fact that sam suggested this to help you get over your not-so-little crush on a super soldier.

your phone beeped, showing a message sent to you by your teammate. “speaking of the devil, sam just sent me the details but i'm really not sure if i should go. it doesn't feel right.”

“and leave the poor guy waiting? not happening." natasha stuck her spoon into her pint and set it down on the coffee table. “you feel that way because you like someone already, but nothing's going to happen if we'll sit here waiting. you're either giving this date a chance or ask bucky out. it's time you finally go out there and see someone. aren't you sick of us yet?"

“i'm quite sick of you, that's for sure.” you joked, having natasha as your room neighbour and basically your best friend. if you weren't spending your time sleeping in your room, you'd be spending it with her. “i just don't think i should be going on dates when i know i'm technically not emotionally available for others yet.”

“oh, you can't be sick of me. i'm great company." natasha replied confidently. “then why did you agree? we all know, besides barnes, that you've liked him for so long. plus, he's never been with anyone for ages. the two of you makes sense.”

you gnawed on your lower lip, hesitant to tell nat the reason why you agreed to this stupid date, but she was your best friend and also one hell of a spy to even try and hide it. ���he told me that he found someone similar to bucky and that i might want to meet him. we agreed to let it be a blind date to avoid the mess of telling them that they're meeting an avenger.”

“i knew it. you're going on a rebound date!” she jumped on her seat, as if she'd solved the winning numbers to the lottery. “there was no way you'd suddenly go on a blind date without a catch. you're too hung up on bucky!”

“keep it down!” you pulled her back into the couch, nervously looking around the room to see if anyone was close by. “i'm pretty sure rebounds only apply to people i've dated. bucky's hardly a candidate for that list.”

“you've liked him for way too long that it basically feels like you had a relationship, and i'm pretty sure he likes you too,” natasha said. “trust me, my guts? golden.”

you winced at the thought. there had been zero signs that bucky liked you back. as much as you trusted natasha and her instincts, this was something you couldn't just assume.

“i don't think so, nat. i've given him enough hints. it's either he's too dense about it or he's just not interested. maybe it's just how it's supposed to be, and i can't keep myself stuck with maybes forever.” you sighed, deciding to finally go to the blind date. “help me pick an outfit?”

“like you even have to ask?” she smiled, dragging you to your room while you were still left with uncertainty in your heart.

the restaurant was one of those hole-in-the-wall places in downtown new york. it had a lot people dining inside, their noise easily heard from the outside, yet the ambiance already felt warm and welcoming. you wondered if sam suggested the place or the guy you were about to meet.

you sighed, giving your chest one last tap since it wouldn't stop beating so fast. it was a wonder how your heartbeat remained stable during a risky mission, while a harmless date had you this nervous. although with that, you felt human.

“okay, let's see where this goes,” you muttered to yourself, glancing at your watch that had a tracking device in it, as requested (or ordered) by your best friend.

natasha initially opted to come with you and seat somewhere far, but you told her that you didn't need it. so, she settled with a tracking device, as if you weren't an avenger who could defend yourself. you couldn't find it in you to complain, since this was natasha's own way of showing that she cared.

you entered the restaurant, eyes wandering around the room despite not knowing exactly what to look for. the only details you were allowed to know was that “joseph” knew where to take you, so you assumed that person was one of the staff that you had to look for.

once you found a waitress that didn't look too occupied, you approached her with a smile. “excuse me, may i know where joseph is?”

the lady looked up at you, recognition evident on her face. you were slightly worried that she knew your identity, but she gave you a warm smile and held your arm gently. “oh, he's right there by the counter. let me take you to him!”

she escorted you towards the man handling the counter that seemed to be where the orders were taken. he was shouting various orders behind him while arranging the food on the counter. by the looks of it, he could be the manager or the owner of the place.

“she's here!” the lady beside you exclaimed, catching the full attention of joseph.

“ah, there's our special guest for tonight!” joseph walked around the counter to hug you, as if you knew each other for a long time. “come, come! we have the best spot reserved for you. it's right outside where you can enjoy the view while also having some privacy, eh? your date already arrived, but no worries. he wasn't waiting for too long.”

you were rendered speechless as he took you to the patio, not expecting your date to arrive first, and most importantly not expecting to see him right away. you thought you were early enough, but it seems that your date was an earlier bird than you were.

once outside, all you could see was an empty patio with one man sitting not so far from where you were standing. you hated how you could only see his back and not his face, since he was facing the opposite direction. although, you immediately noticed how he was dressed similarly to bucky.

similar haircut, black boots, and a black jacket. while you weren't sure if they actually looked alike, sam wasn't kidding about them having some similarities.

“how come it's empty out here?” you asked with genuine curiosity. the restaurant was oozing with customers tonight, and they could surely use the extra space outdoors.

“well, uh...” joseph scratched his head, smiling awkwardly as he looked for an answer. “oh, well, stop worrying about that! you're here to go on a date and nothing more! let us worry about that ourselves, hm? come, let's not make your date wait for too long.”

you both walked towards the only table occupied, taking a deep breath before joseph announced, “your date has arrived!”

the man turned around, eyes widened at the sudden noise, but he eventually smiled once he looked at you.

“hey, nice to finally meet you.” he stood up, extending his hand. “i'm martin.”

one look at him and you knew that your heart stubbornly stayed with someone you shouldn't be thinking about.

“i still can't believe that i'm on a date with an avenger.”

you were barely done with your meal despite being here for more than an hour, and martin hasn't been able to stop gushing about your whole avenger sideline. while you understood his excitement, this wasn't the type of date that you hoped for.

“you think i could tell my friends?” he asked, suddenly nudging his chair closer to you that he was basically sitting beside you. “they probably won't believe me, so will it be okay if we took a picture?”

oh, so that's why he moved closer.

“sure.” you forced a smile. “but don't get too close, maybe? i'm.. i'm not that comfortable yet.”

as if you said nothing, he placed an arm over your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him. you've been through worse situations than this, but you were highly uncomfortable having your boundaries crossed.

bucky wouldn't do something like this. how did sam think that any of his behaviour was similar to him?

martin already had his phone out, capturing pictures and squeezing your arm, when you decided that this isn't what you wanted, but before you could open your mouth, you felt someone pulling his arm off of you, causing martin to scream.

“what is wrong with you!?” martin shouted, standing up and stepping away while he held his aching arm. when you turned around, you felt your heart stop to find the person you least expected to be here, but wanted the most to be with.

“bucky?”

he did not look at you, his eyes still fixated on martin, nostrils flaring as he took a step closer, standing in front of you as if he was shielding you, while martin took the same amount of steps backwards. “she clearly said no. what the fuck was so hard about understanding that?”

“look, man, i don't know what you're doing here, but i think this is between me and her,” he said, his eyes showing fear as he watched the ex-assassin approach him, hearing the gears of his metal arm whirring.

“give me your phone.” bucky ordered. “now.”

martin immediately fished for his phone, nearly dropping it, and gave it to bucky. “w-what are you going to do?”

“no, this is what you're gonna do,” bucky started, crashing martin's phone with ease and carelessly throwing it to the side. “this date never happened, your friends will hear nothing about tonight, and you will get out of here before i finish counting to three. one...”

in a snap, martin was already out of your sight. if you hadn't known martin before this, you would think he idolised pietro with the way he ran so fast.

“are you okay?”

forgetting about bucky for a split second, his voice jolted you out of your thoughts. you looked up, your heart racing, to find him right in front you.

“what are you doing here?”

“that doesn't really answer my question, doll. answer mine first, will ya? then i'll answer yours.”

“i'm okay, but i can take care of myself. you didn't have to scare the guy.” you sighed, trying your best to look displeased when in fact this has been the happiest you've been tonight. “so? why are you here?”

“well, it's really hard to explain...”

“you better try, barnes, because i am very confused right now,” you said. “one moment i'm on a date with someone, then suddenly my teammate, who i told nothing about said date, appears and crushes the phone of the guy i'm with?”

“natasha told me about it.”

you frowned, not surprised with natasha's gossipy nature, but confused about what she could've said that made him go all the way here.

“i was looking for you since you're always with us during dinner, and nat told me that you were on a date. i couldn't help but ask where and with whom, but she said that she had no idea, that it was a blind date. she was more than glad to tell me where you were, so i came here looking for you.”

“why?” you asked, confused and suddenly hopeful at the same time. although, you tried to keep your hopes down, not wanting to set yourself up for a heartbreak.

“what do you mean why? that's it. i was just worried, and now you're okay. can we go home?”

he turned his back on you and walked away, you were quick enough follow him, still unsatisfied with his answer.

once you've reached a dark alley where he had his motorcycle parked, you sighed and decided to ask one more time.

“what are you actually doing here, barnes?” you asked. “i want an actual answer or i'm walking home.”

“it doesn't matter,” bucky answered shortly, frustration. written on his face. “why did you agree to this anyway? doesn't feel like something you'd do.”

“you have no idea about what i feel and what i want to do,” you answered. “and you still haven't answered my question.”

“i don't know, okay? i don't know. i just..” he sighed. “i heard the word date and everything didn't make sense. all i knew was that i wanted to follow you here and stop whatever you were doing. i didn't like it.”

“what gives you the right to stop me from going on a date?” you asked, your head jerked back in disbelief. “and why would it even bother you? this is the first time someone went on a date in the team. so what makes mine so different?”

“what do you think?” he asked, his gaze challenging and curious, waiting for your response.

you stood in silence, his question causing a sudden drift in the conversation. you could feel the tension in the air.

“sam made me go to a blind date as well,” he spoke again. “i just remembered that he was asking me where i'd take someone on a date. days after that, he said he found a girl that i might like, and that i should go on a date with her, he suggested that it should be a blind date, knowing that i'm an avenger and all.”

“why didn't you go?”

“i couldn't. i wasn't interested. i knew it wouldn't work.”

“why?”

“because i already like someone.”

your heart sank, a lump forming in your throat as the reality set in that the person you've been pining for was already interested in someone else.

so much for going on a date to forget about him.

“what about you?” he asked. “why did you go?”

because of you, you idiot.

“trying to get over someone,” you simply answered.

“you were seeing someone?” he asked, completely clueless, but suddenly looking uneasy. “i never knew you were in a relationship. i guess, we're not that close, but i thought i'd at least know abou—”

“what? no!” you replied, voice rising as you spoke. "god, i agreed to this date because i wanted to get over you!"

the words slipped out of your mouth, your eyes widening in surprise as you accidentally reveal the feelings you had kept hidden.

bucky blinked, silence hanging in the air. the confession felt heavy between you as you waited for his response.

“i didn't agree to going on a blind date because i have feelings you,” bucky finally spoke, taking a deep breath before continuing, “because i knew i wouldn't enjoy it knowing i'd be thinking of you anyway, because as convinced as i was that you had no interest in me, i'd rather keep my eyes on you than on anybody else.”

“wait, wait, what? you like me?” you repeated in a slightly disbelieving tone, searching his face for confirmation.

“why would i follow you all the way here if i didn't?”

“because you care? and it might be dangerous to go on a date with someone i've never met?” you guessed. “i mean, i think you'd also do it for everybody else, as grumpy as you look like on the outside, you can be a softie sometimes.”

“if i had no feelings for you, i wouldn't be here. you're an avenger for christ's sake. some random guy would be like a training dummy for you,” he answered. “and no, i wouldn't be doing this for anybody else. if the situation's that dangerous, maybe, but a date? you're all adults. you know what you're doing.”

you couldn't help but giggle at his answer, which earned you a glare from him. “what?”

“nothing.” you shook your head. “you sound like an old man lecturing the younger generation.”

“are we completely ignoring the fact that we like each other?”

“that's the only thing on my mind right now.” you admitted. “are you sure about what you just said? it could be the hunger talking.”

instead of answering, bucky took his phone out of his pocket, swiping and tapping on it a few times before taking your hand and placing it on your palm.

“what am i supposed to—”

“just read it.”

choosing not to argue with him, you grabbed the phone with a frown. his messages with natasha were on the screen, starting from their messages from nearly four months ago. you scrolled through their messages, and while they lasted for months, they were all short and straightforward.

three months ago

bucky:

did you arrive safely?

romanoff:

since when did you start asking?

bucky:

?

romanoff:

yes, we arrived safely.

bucky:

👍🏻

romanoff:

really???

two months ago

bucky:

is she okay?

romanoff:

ohhh, that's why you keep texting.

bucky:

answer

romanoff:

geez, barnes.

yeah, she's okay.

bucky:

ok

one month ago

bucky:

she's sick?

romanoff:

yeah, wanna visit her?

you're basically immune.

bucky:

i have a mission

romanoff:

oh yeah

oops

bucky:

are you busy?

romanoff:

nope

why?

bucky:

take my place

romanoff:

no thanks, barnes.

bucky:

i'll take your next task

and the next one as well

romanoff:

why can't you just take this one?

bucky:

nothing

romanoff:

a reason or i'm not doing it.

bucky:

she's sick

i want to stay

romanoff:

oh my god

you're such a sap

fine i'll talk to steve

bucky:

ty

romanoff:

you're using abbreviations now???

bucky:

👍🏻

one week ago

romanoff:

movie night later, don't ditch us again

bucky:

busy

romanoff:

she planned this one

she's worried you won't come

bucky:

i'll bring snacks

romanoff:

i love knowing your weakness

bring popcorn!

bucky:

she prefers pizza over popcorn

does she like popcorn?

romanoff:

nope, but some of us do.

bucky:

ok

romanoff:

so you're bringing popcorn?

bucky:

no

once you were done reading, you returned his phone back to his hand. “you do like me,” you said, the confession finally sinking in.

bucky nodded. “and you like me too.”

“where does that leave us?” you asked, hoping. “are we.. dating now?”

“no,” he answered quickly.

you felt that ache returning in your chest, but before you could say something, bucky already sensed your worries and he wasn't letting you slip away that easily.

“no because i want to do this right. i want to take you out on a date first, bring you flowers, play music and ask you for a dance, all that stuff that you deserve,” he explained, bringing his warm hand to your cheek. “but trust me that it won't take long before i call you mine. i don't think i have the patience for it at this point.”

“you promise?” you rose to your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around him. “i don't want to wait that long either.”

“you won't,” he replied, leaning into you, his lips brushing against your nose before pulling you in a kiss. “i promise.”

this was supposed to have a lil bonus when they got back to the tower, revealing the team's true involvement with the blind date, buttt i might just do it some other time as a snippet/part 2 instead. i still have a few to write anyway, woops.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[theorist-fox]

Interlude (the aftermath)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Previous << || >> Next

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: You and Simon grow apart, and then together. Only, something's different this time.

18+

CW: brief angst, emotional healing, the aftermath of the big angst.

This chapter is split into 2. Next part (longer) coming on Sunday. If you were here this Tuesday, you might have read this already. Apologies!!!

Masterlist 🦊 | Series Masterlist 🦊

Day 1

You wake up with a headache and blurry memories. Simon on his knees and his apology. His tongue on you and how it had felt unwelcome for the first time.

Chunks of a puzzle roughly scattered on the table. You're not sure you want to finish it, piece it back together—knowing the big picture would leave an acrid taste on your tongue.

You turn in bed, helplessly flopping on your back. Mouth pasty and sticky lashes, the folds of your pillow printed on your cheek, itching with dried tears.

On your nightstand, a pack of Marlboro Reds you haven't bought and Simon’s favourite lighter.

Day 5

You miss him. 

Your skin longs for his touch, and you've gone as far as closing your eyes and clutching a hand at the base of your throat when you cum by yourself. It’s never satisfying, never satiates any hunger—you’ve been spoiled in that regard, and you acknowledge it even blinded by the fog of denial.

Truthfully, you wish it was only the strength of an orgasm that you miss. 

Sometimes, you cry, but it's okay. It's just the beginning and not the first time you've had to nurse a broken heart. It'll piece itself back together, as resilient as you are.

Still, there's something incredibly hopeless in your eyes when you dip your nose in the pillowcase where he used to rest, and it only smells of fabric softener.

Day 15

You play with the hashbrowns on your plate. Kyle sips on watered-down coffee. Johnny stuffs his mouth with a depressingly flat omelette. Price has his nose in the newspaper. All in all, life seems normal.

Yet something’s amiss.

Simon's seat is empty. He's still choosing his breakfast from the glass display in the canteen.

You see him point at a brownie and automatically your chin dips to your chest, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

Sweet tooth.

He grabs it and the mug of good ol' Earl Grey from the girl behind the counter. Then, he walks to the table, balancing it all on a tray. Your heart thunders.

And cracks.

He walks past you all with a simple nod in greeting—and just like that, just as swiftly, he's out of the mess hall.

Day 34

You're forced to do desk work until you're fit for active duty again.

You barely see Simon, not even work seems to favor your meetings. If he has some paperwork to hand over to you, he simply delegates it to someone else. After all, he does have the rank to toss younger officers back and forth through the hallways.

And then the team is sent out for two weeks. Weeks you spend biting your nails and bouncing your leg.

When they come back, triumphant and safe, you feel like you can breathe again. You hug them all until their laughter turns into a wheeze, quickly sign off their reports, and invite them to your flat for drinks.

Simon turns the offer down gently, hand on your shoulder and kindness in his eyes.

Day 86

He's been impossibly understanding, which is not something you would have pegged to the likes of him.

He never reaches out unless it's job-adjacent or to check on your well-being. You asked for space and got a whole world of it around you.

In the very first days, he even skipped team nights out, only so you could enjoy them without the heaviness of his scrutiny.

He's been so considerate you've started to feel bad.

Though, deep down, you're just as grateful.

Because the more he keeps his distance, the more your tears seem to grow weary of being shed, and, at last, your heart and mind appear to have settled into a quiet, mutual truce.

It's as comforting as it's dreadful. But no healing process is ever gentle.

And you can endure pain; Lord knows you've had your fair share of it.

So long as it leads to happiness, someday.

Day 105

You're reinstated again—five months and some after the incident on the field.

You're ready and elated, signing the medical forms with a smile so wide your cheeks hurt. A young cadet has brought them to you alongside a cup of lukewarm tea and absolute horror in his eyes—the latter being a glaring hint of who sent him to your office.

The thought steals a chuckle from you.

Fifth signature, fifth page. You turn it around, dog-earing it as you fold it behind, and there you see it.

Your heartbeat spikes, kissing your chest.

Somewhat bashful, scared, yet as ready as it'll ever be.

Day 123

Simon wasn't lying when he said your training would start slow. He just about spotted you the first few days, ensuring you wouldn't collapse under the weights.

It wasn't until he felt you'd regained enough strength that he added in your routine some hand-to-hand combat training. Measured and awfully gentle, at first, letting you glide on the training mat like water in a creek.

Soap once assisted and told you it looked like you two were dancing.

But the truth is that even as time passed, your movements kept being smooth—your bodies attuned.

Like yours had never spent weeks in quietude, like his had never spent months apart from yours. 

A well-oiled machine, cogs whirring seamlessly, anticipating every move: on the training mat, on the field, out of it. No wonder you two were often paired on duty. 

No wonder you got closer than intended. 

You won't deny that you miss him, that you crave his touch even when you shouldn't.

But these new and old rituals are lovely. Familiar. 

And, in some ways, only yours.

Day 184

You and Simon have reached a silent, mutual agreement in the ways you behave around each other. 

He doesn't change his approach: he stays somewhat impassive, sharp, and unapproachable to most. Yet also levelled, understanding, and ready to make you bite your own tongue. Banter flows effortlessly again, and now he even sits at breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

He remains calm and professional, separating work from personal relationships. Feelings—if any are left at all—don't bleed into the ranks anymore.

He stays trustful and loyal, even when you're back on operations. Never opposes your reinstatement, never fights the orders imposed on him and you both.

He trusts your abilities again.

He trusts you.

Day 223

Simon tells you lots of things he never shared. Says names you never heard. Tiny dots you can only connect on your own, stories that end abruptly, like he doesn't have the heart to finish them at all. 

You hear Beth, you hear Tommy. His voice strangles and dies on his tongue when he says Joseph. 

He doesn't tell you of his father. Not in great detail, at least. However, he tells you lots about his mum—of her pies when she was lucid enough to bake, that he remembers her hands most, and the wrinkles of her smile, the dimple on her cheek.

You listen like you never did before, whether it's on a well-worn stool of a pub, or the hard concrete of the rooftop in base—where the world is silent, paying its respects to stories it has hosted, horrors it has witnessed. 

Inevitably, you see him under a different light. A soft one, suffused. Sometimes vibrant, too, when his voice rumbles in a laugh you've never heard before. Troubles of youth, friends he's never heard of again but he's sure are thriving—or at least, better off than how he left them.

You imagine a young, lanky boy cutting meat at the butcher's. Thick knife within long fingers and a passive smile offered to the ladies who want him to meet their granddaughters.

And he listens. Asks. Wonders. About you, your family, your life before you met him. You recount stories of when you scraped your knee falling off a bike, when you bathed under the moonlight with friends at the beach—British water cold like the ocean, not like the sea. 

You wonder what he imagines as he thinks of you—the younger and softer you. The one still lighter and hopeful. If he sees that child in your words as they grow lively, like you see a less buoyant one when you look in his eyes.

And now Simon offers a ciggie when you're stressed, a chat with a steaming cup of tea between your hands. Or, his spare sleeping pills when yours are out of stock in your drawer and you look too knackered for your own good.

A friendship slowly mending. Crumbs of affection scattered like specks of dust on the floor, impossible to sweep away. A seed rooted too deeply to ever be removed. Together, you've watered it again, and now it grows, and grows, and grows.

As easy as anything, normalcy starts to settle in, a slow descent into what once had been a daily routine. 

The difference now being that you know Simon like you never once did.

Day 300

Simon didn’t even flinch when you brought up dating. It was just a mindless chat between friends in the rec room, shared around a game of cards.

While the others kept their opinions to themselves—perhaps too aware of your history with Simon, despite how hard you��ve both tried to keep it quiet—their eyes sparkled with a kind of hope, a kind of pride.

On the other hand, Simon barely replied. His eyes crinkled, you don't know whether in thought or a hint of a smile. The rest of his face stayed hidden under the mask, soft cotton and no hard shell over it.

Then, his voice rumbled through the chatter.

“If they ever give ya any grief, you know who to call.”

That promise you keep tucked safely in a pocket. Revisit it often with the utmost care, recognizing it as the ultimate peace offering he is able to give.

Find love somewhere else, because he couldn't give it to you. Find it, and heal what he's wounded.

And, although hesitantly, you think you’ll try.

[bktempted]

You should really head home - the rational part of your brain knows this - but desperation makes us do strange things, and you really need to finish this paper before morning. The University library at midnight is a labyrinth of shadows, rows of books stretching endlessly like the ribs of some ancient beast. You're hunched over your laptop, its harsh glow the only island of light in this sea of darkness.

That's when you feel it again. That crawling sensation up your spine, like someone trailing their finger along each vertebra. You've felt it before, in your room at night, in the campus coffee shop - moments when the world feels slightly off kilter, as if reality has shifted two degrees to the left.

You turn, hoping it's nothing. Instead, you see him.

That boy from your study group. That boy with his soft sweaters and softer smile. That boy who always seems to have a spare charger when your laptop dies. He doesn't seem like just a boy now, as he stands in shadows that cling to him like loving tendrils, his familiar features transformed by the darkness into something beautiful and terrible.

"You shouldn't be here alone so late," he says, and his voice - his voice is different. Lower, richer, dripping with something that makes your chest tight. "It's dangerous for a girl like you."

You clutch your laptop closer, as if it could shield you from the intensity radiating from him. "I had work to do," you manage, hating how your voice trembles. "Plus, what's the worst that could happen?"

Your words hang in the air like a freshly struck match, one that he's going to snuff out. He takes a step closer, the air between you is thick, charged with unspoken intentions. The space shrinks until you're breathing the same air.

"Oh, sweetheart," he breathes, each syllable brushes against your skin like velvet wrapped around steel. "You're so naive. That's why I have to watch over you, make sure you don't get yourself hurt. The things that could happen to you…" His voice trails off, fingers reaching up to catch a strand of your hair, rolling it between his fingers, memorizing its texture. "You didn't give me a choice."

And suddenly, horrifyingly, you realize. All those moments when you felt watched. It wasn't just a feeling. It was him. "What do you want?" you whisper, though something deep in your bones already knows.

"More." He laughs - it's soft, almost tender, but entirely wrong. "I've learned everything about you," he breathes, he's even closer now. "And it's still not enough. It'll never be enough."

His fingers brush your cheek, and you can't tell if you're trembling from fear or something else entirely. The touch is gentle, reverent even, but there's possession in it - ownership in the way his thumb traces your lower lip, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

Horror blooms in your chest, but it's tangled with something else, something that makes you hate yourself a little. Because despite everything, there's a part of you that recognizes this for what it is: devotion in its deepest, most absolute form.

The library seems to pulse around you, the shadows growing longer, hungrier. His eyes reflect nothing. They're black holes that need to consume everything you are.

"Don't be scared." he murmurs, as his other hand finds your waist, steady and sure. The heat of his palm bleeds through your clothes, marking you. "Let me show you." He starts to tug at your skirt. "Let me show you just how well I know you."

Your heart is pounding so hard it might burst, but you can't move. It's not fear rooting you to this spot - it's desire. You're disgusted with yourself, but the heat from his body spreads through your veins leaving you dizzy with need. The line between right and wrong blurs, it's irrelevant.

He offers you your final out, one last challenge, "Tell me to stop. Say the word and I'll let you go." You say nothing. He knows you wouldn't. He keeps going. Hands sliding under your shirt, fingers tracing the contours of your stomach, circling your naval, dipping lower. It's familiar, he knows what he's doing - he learned from you.

He guides you backwards, towards a secluded corner between the shelves. He turns you around, and bends you over, pressing your chest to the cool surface of a table. It's all happening so fast; you barely have time to process. His erection is hard against your ass. "I'm going to fuck you the way you've always wanted."

You nod, in stunned silence. He pushes your skirt up and your panties to the side, and then he's inside you, filling you in one smooth thrust. You cry out, overwhelmed by the sudden stretch, and the pleasure behind it.

Fuck. He's a perfect fit.

He sets a brutal pace, and the rational part of your brains screams at you to fight; to do something - anything - but it's drowned out by the overwhelming tide of sensation. By the dark thrill of being taken like this, used like this, by someone who knows you better than you know yourself.

He hits that spot inside you, that secret spot that only you know about, that you reach for with your favorite toys when you're in your room all alone, when no one's watching. "Yes," you gasp, the word torn from your throat. "Yes, yes, yes." A prayer. A plea. An admission of how much you want this, even if it terrifies you.

He leans over you then, his chest pressed against your back, "I told you." His voice is perforated by each thrust "Like you've always wanted." His words are invasive, and they only make you more desperate for him. Because he's right. God, he's so fucking right.

"It's time to cum. You want to cum, don't you?" You don't have a chance to answer because he's hitting that spot again, over and over, while his fingers work magic on your clit. It's too much. Too fucking much. You're cumming, you're shattering, you're breaking for him. The sounds you make are embarrassing, animalistic, but you can't control them. Moans, whines, broken sobs of pleasure all absorbed and recorded by the books that surround you. In that moment, you learned something new about yourself. Something only he could teach you.

[shiki-jin]

sweet embrace

hawks x reader (angst -> comfort)

was feeling like shit so i wrote this rq,, also probably definitely not how you're supposed to take care of wounds but i wrote this in one sitting so o7

CWS: self harm, almost dying (but it's implied your quirk saves you), a lot of blood

when you're on your own, blood dripping down your arms, keigo gives you a call.

the phone rings beside you.

you barely have the energy to look over — keigo is calling you.

‘i should probably pick up.’

you reach out your arm, slowly, shakily, and press the little green ‘accept’ button.

“mind if i pay a visit?”

he speaks with a certain charm that makes the blood rise to your cheeks.

“go ahead.”

your voice is tired, he notes. makes sense, considering it's past midnight.

in the silence, he hears dripping.

“... you leave your sink on, birdie?”

you look at your arms, nodding like he can see you. “oh, i think so. i'll turn it off soon. 'm tired right now.”

“gotcha. i should be there in five to cuddle all that fatigue away.”

“..oh. can you, um, take a bit longer, maybe?”

“hm? why's that? you don't have to get anything ready or clean for me, ya know. just wait for me in bed, okay?”

you think for a second. “no, i still…” your vision blurs. you feel the cold of the tiled floor against your face. “ow.”

keigo's voice grows more concerned by the second. “you okay, sweetheart?”

you push yourself off the floor, your hands and arms weak and trembling. “i’ll be fine. just, like, go get takeout or something.”

he stays quiet, long enough to hear you messing with something… metal? no, it sounds like paper now. he keeps listening.

“ugh, this is annoying…” he hears you mumble, ripping something akin to —

fuck.

“i’ll be there soon, just— agh, hey, keep talking to me, okay?”

you tilt your head, but nod not a second later. “sure. uh, i'd prefer you get something small since i'm not super hungry, but i don't mind eating… ugh, um, eating the leftovers t-tomorrow.”

your vision keeps going in and out, and right when you're going to stand up to wash your hands, you slip. you could've probably hear the flapping of keigo's wings if you weren't so preoccupied.

it feels like your entire body is shaking now. you don't care that much. “okay, gimme like, s-some 10 extra minutes… it'll probably be,” you feel lightheaded. “it’ll be clean, by then. i think.”

he doesn't respond. you hear the front door click open, and you can't help but sigh. he's probably going to yell at you, or something. god, you couldn't even stick to one easy agreement. isn't that pathetic?

you try to push yourself off of the floor, but all the liquid you've been letting run down your wrists is making it difficult. you manage to sit on your knees, awaiting the scolding you'd get for being so stupid.

the moment the bathroom doors open, you close your eyes.

“shit, that's bad—”

his hands are taking yours before you can object, and he's using the same bandages you got out of the first-aid kit to wrap up your wrists. the material dyes red quickly, but at least it's somewhat stopped the bleeding. you can hear keigo cursing under his breath, and you feel a bit guilty.

“mmh, 's not that bad, look,” you lift up the unbandaged wrist and show it to him. “they're half-healed, already. i wasn't... wasn't trying to die.”

“don't— you're on the verge of passing out, that's pretty bad in my book!”

he takes the chance to wrap up that arm, too, and you're honestly surprised he hasn't started his lecture. you open your eyes ever so slightly, and you realize his chest is right in front of you. you lay down on it, your head on his shoulder, and relax.

“but i know. i know you weren't trying to die, i know. just with me, kay, [name]?”

he's obviously scared, he's speaking quickly, and you feel even worse. “...kay, i'll try.. 'm sorry.”

“it's okay, it's okay, i'm here with you. for you. just stay awake for a bit, that's all i'm asking, dove.”

your breath hitches, and you practically cry the words out. “just yell at me already. just get it over with, i get it, i'm pathetic — i can't keep to a single promise, so yell at me.”

your hands turn to fists, and keigo feels his shirt getting wet. he hugs you tightly, and you can't help but return the gesture. “i'm not going to yell at you, i'm not angry or mad, i understand. i get it, i really do. you're not pathetic, you don't deserve anger.”

raising your head you can see blood all over the floor and sink. you realize it's probably in your clothes by now — and keigos, too. you try to push yourself off him with the little strength you still have, but he keeps you close.

“...i still need to clean—” he shakes his head. “i'll take care of it, don't worry, just focus on me, birdie. just talk to me.”

you suppress the whine that wants to escape your throat. “...i, i tried. i really, really tried, i swear,” you inhale sharply, trying to calm down. “i—i tried really hard, b-but, i couldn't stop, a-and...!”

“i believe you, i promise, i believe you, baby. i know you tried your best, and i'm proud of you for it.” he pressed a gentle kiss against you. after a few moments of silence, he speaks calmly. “could you show me your wrists again, dove? 'wanna make sure you're not bleeding too much.”

you nod, and lift one of them up for him to hold. “...okay, that's good, seems like it's healed up. the other?” he presses another kiss to your hands. you lift up the other wrist, and he holds it just as gently as the first. “thank you, baby... they've both healed, for the most part, so do you want to lay down in bed?”

you think for a while. you're tired, exhausted, but if you go to bed...

“will you stay?”

he doesn't think about it.

“i will. i promise.”

you nod. “t-then, yeah, i wanna go to bed.”

he picks you up, holding you against him while he walks to your bed. he sets you down on it, and lays on the other side. “can you face me for a bit, songbird?”

you pull your legs just a bit closer to your chest, one of your arms holding your knees while the other rubs your tears away. you shake your head. “don't wanna.”

“that's okay. can i hold you, then?”

you nod, and he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer so that he's spooning you. his legs tangle with yours, and he presses soft kisses to your back, your neck, your scalp.

you're shaking less now, he thinks. he pulls the covers up so you can both be warm, and one of his wings instinctually covers your body. “is it okay if i make a suggestion? no need to answer right away, we can talk about it in the morning — or whenever you're ready.”

before the exhaustion completely takes over, you want to get an answer out. “go ahead.”

“thank you. i... when you get these types of urges, i'd like for you to call me. talk to me. if i can't talk you out of it, that's okay, just ask me to come over. i want to help you with this.”

you listen intently, his voice so soft and sweet it almost lulls you to sleep.

“okay. i'll... i'll call you, promise.”

he presses another kiss to your neck. “thank you for trusting me with that, dove. i'm proud of you.” you can tell he's about to fall asleep, too. “you should rest now, though. i'll be here when you wake up.”

the next time you're in the bathroom with a box cutter to your arms, he's the one to pick up the call.

[wafflexdguy]

Goob Headcanons!

It's the Goob! The Goobert Snoobert!!!!

Romantic/Platonic Headcanons featuring some angst! :D

--------------------------

Goob loves hugs, and this is very obvious when he hugs you a little bit more often than he does with other toons. It's almost always on sight with him; the second he sees you his arms go flying out in your general direction. He doesn't always hit his target and may accidentally grab another toon or visitor of Gardenview. 

Of course, when other toons comment on his behavior towards you, his response is almost always, "Oh yeah, I guess I have!" And doesn't really comment any further on that. In his mind, you always need a hug, no matter the time or place! 

Except for funerals.

Assuming Gardenview already closed down and your doing your whole 'Ichor machine' mission; Goob is always close by. Sometimes coincidentally, but also because he doesn't like the idea of a Twisted chasing you and not being able to be there to help by hugging you out of the way. Even if you have the situation handled by getting out of sight, and sometimes putting himself in danger in the process. Please tell him that putting himself in danger just for you isn't always the best idea. 

Visitors and Employees do comment on how you two are almost inseparable -Barring Scraps- because you're always around Goob or Goob and Scraps. Visitors find it cute while Employees find it confusing, considering that in my personal headcanon, you don't really meet each other in the show. 

Unless you want to meet each other in the show, then the Employees won't comment on it. 

Scraps adores your relationship towards Goob, romantic or not. The interactions you two have with each other are almost always fun to watch, barring Twisted chases. Sometimes she intentionally leaves you alone, saying she has to do something and then just watch you two do whatever, gushing over her brother getting along with you so well.

...

Of course, everything isn't always so dandy. 

For sakes of actually having headcanons here, Twisted Goob isn't immediately hostile to you, just more watching you, unable to determine if he should attack or not. If you run away he'll just opt for walking after you. Not exactly chasing, just walking after you. 

And he won't observe from a distance either, he'll be right there next to you while you extract a machine, sitting there silently while you're blissfully unaware of his presence. Once you're finished and see him, maybe you'll freak out, maybe you won't. Maybe your first instinct is to run, maybe it isn't. 

Either way, you have a follower for the entire floor, whether you like it or not. It's mostly down to him just feeling really safe around you. You'll notice that his expression when Twisted is one of either pain or sadness (maybe some anger) but whenever he's around you, he feels a lot more safer and calm, with instead of the sad expression, it's more neutral or in rare cases happy. Of course, the smile would be the same as Twisted Scraps or Toodles, but it's still a smile!

That's not to say that he won't attack other Toons; he will but usually he can be calmed down by just putting yourself in front of the Toon in question. It'll temporarily calm him down enough to where the Toon can escape, (Assuming it's not a shrimp that'll stay due to him saying "I HATE TWISTED HUGGERS!!!!") and everyone is happy.

Eventually when panic time kicks off and see's everyone else going towards the elevator, he'll notice you're heading there too and kind of panic, kind of not. He'll assume it's just normal and that you'll be back eventually. So he'll wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Maybe you can see where this is going. 

Much like Glisten, he'll have a breaking point if you encounter him too many times to the point where he'll just hug you and won't let go the next time you see him. A Toon will have to break you out of the not so restrictive prison by blowing a airhorn right next to him. 

My personal headcanon around it is that Twisted Goob really hates being alone, just like Glisten. Except unlike Glisten, he won't... y'know, kill you. So with Goob, there's a lot less risk of dying with him, assuming there isn't another Twisted around. His arms are good for hugging tightly but not really good for defending. 

Speaking of defending, for Twisted Goob, he'll grab the Twisted that's chasing you and just... Hug them. Allowing you time to escape and really pissing off the Twisted that he robbed of a hit or free kill. 

...

But back to when things were happy and dandy!

A lot of visitors love to just see you two interact and basically do fluffy things, cuddling, hugging, interacting and playing, it's all well and good for corporate! They're earning money, the visitors are earning adorable photos and you and Goob are happily interacting with each other!

You'll notice in the interactions post I've made that his Hug ability he's usually protective or really likes hugs. Of course, he'll do this randomly and this can get really awkward if you were in the middle of an extraction, causing a failed skill check promptly having Twisteds coming after both of you. He'll just awkwardly chuckle and apologize, to which you might forgive him. 

But in conclusion: For the fluffy parts of these headcanons, it's mostly you and Goob hugging and just having fun together. With the Angst parts of these headcanons, it's more or less Goob being a mix of protective and curious but also just self interested with him staying around you only so he can feel safe. 

But to clarify, the Twisted version of him does like to be around you more because he likes you more than doing it out of self interest.

[balljointbf]

big brother teaching little bro how to use a dildo properly for when he's away.

little bro is laid in bed wearing only one of big brother's shirts, holding his thighs to his chest to expose his dripping boycunt. big brother holds a dildo (and also one of little brother's hands♡) modeled after his own cock, thick and intimidating.

"it's really big," lil bro looks at the intimidating dildo, and big brother's cock twitches. the younger of the two whines as big brother rubs the head of the toy along his slit, paying special attention to his tdick with each pass.

"i know, but you can take it, puppy. trust me, it'll feel really good, okay?" big brother gives lil brother an encouraging smile as he lines the silicon length up with lil bro's hole, not even prepped but dripping. it's a slow breach, one that has lil bro tensing and struggling to catch his breath with every inch.

"it h-hurts," he protests. big brother ignores him and all further protests until the base of the toy rests flush with lil bro's cunt.

"see? i told you that you could do it. you're such a baby sometimes..." big bro says, letting the younger brother adjust to the size and stretch, his walls squeezing the toy tight.

"shut up," little brother whines again, biting his bottom lip. his hips squirm, silently pleading for more. so big brother withdraws the toy halfway, then shoves back in, "yeah, whatever, dude. you're the one crying 'cause you can hardly handle a fake cock in your pussy."

he sets a steady pace that keeps lil brother in bliss, a stream of soft, sweet noises spilling from him as the younger man gets used to the strange feeling of being fucked. it only feels good because it's his big brother, of course.

"m-more," lil bro pants, letting go of big brother's hand to rub his tdick hurriedly, "please, faster. i-i need- i want-"

"yeah, yeah, alright," big brother rolls his eyes and leans over the younger man, fucking the silicon cock into him faster. his newly freed hand grips lil bro's jaw and forces him into a kiss that's all tongue and teeth, biting his little brother's bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. the pulse of lil brother's walls is undeniable.

he's not surprised when lil bro cums almost right after, moaning into his mouth, his nails digging into the back of his thigh.

"that's it, puppy, cum for me. such a good mutt, taking my cock..." he mutters, the other man melting with post-orgasm bliss. big bro slides the toy out with a final kiss to lil bro's parted lips, who giggles quietly in return.

"maybe next time, i'll use my real cock. especially now that you've got practice, too. i gotta make sure you're ready all the time for me, like a good little brother should be, don't i?" big brother murmurs, discarding the toy to be cleaned later in favor of laying beside his little brother and pulling him to his chest.

"please..." lil bro mumbles, half-asleep already and clinging to his brother's side.

"fuckin' slut..."

(let me tell you, i haven't written anything with actual sex in it in two years, please be nice if you've got criticism!)

[beef-brisket]

Adam sighed. He's too old to deal with this shit.

Adam: Next time, you take one. Or two at the most, alright? Don't take a whole damn handful, you little bastard.

Lucifer laughed: twoooo then~.

Adam: Yeah, two... now go to sleep, okay?

Lucifer whined: What if you're not here?

Adam: When?

Lucifer: W-When I wake up...

Adam sighed. It'll be great revenge to leave this fucker alone. But he couldn't do it. It must be Charlie rubbing off on him because seeing Lucifer clinging to him and worried that Adam's going to leave, actually made him feel bad.

Adam: ...I won't leave.

Lucifer smiled and nuzzled into Adam's chest: I would~. I diiid~.

Adam sighed: I know you did... go to sleep, yeah? I'll be here...

The king stayed silent as his breathing evened out.

Well, it looks like Adam's trapped for a few hours. Poking the kings shoulder, he didn't move or anything.

He should push this fucker off him. But he couldn't it. Wiping his eyes, Adam cursed himself. He's meant to be over this bullshit.

And here he is, getting emotional about bullshit that didn't matter. Lucifer will probably wake up and be pissed off again. He only came here cause he's off his ass.

Adam: ...Fuck sakes...

-

Lucifer slowly came to, groaning as he moved to sit up. Great, now his back was killing him.

Looking around, his eyes widened whe. He noticed he was in Adam's room. That's when everything came rushing back.

Looking to his left, he smiles softly.

Adam stayed. And he's asleep. And he doesn't look like he's going to wake up any time soon.

Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, Lucifer jumped when his phone started buzzing.

Char: Hey, dad. Could you come downstairs?

Smiling, Lucifer sent Charlie a quick text before slowly getting off the bed and walking out of Adam's room.

-

Lucifer: Hey Char. What's up?

Charlie: Angel wanted to speak with you, dad.

Lucifer: Oh?

Lucifer looked up as Angel awkwardly walked over. Was he always this tall?

Angel: Uh- heya, short king.

Lucifer smiled: Evening Angel.

Angel: I uh... just wanted to apologise again. That was really shitty of me- I just... didn't think.

Lucifer: Thank you for saying that, Angel. I'm sorry I freaked out, but I'm sure you understand.

Angel: You're okay, Lu. I get ya. I'd be protective over my kid if I had one.

Charlie smiled as her dad and Angel talked, sharing a drink at Husks Bar. She was so distracted that she almost didn't see Alastor standing next to her.

Charlie: Oh! Al-! Sorry, I didn't see you there!

Alastor smiled: That's quite alright, my deer. Would you be able to alert Adam that we need to start dinner preparations.

Charlie: Yeah, of course... I haven't seen him since this afternoon, actually. I'll go find him for you.

-

Adam was sitting on the edge of his bed when he heard someone knock at his door.

He swears if it's fucking Lucifer, he's kicking his ass. He begged Adam to stay and then once he's awake, he fucks off?

Little prick.

Charlie: Adam? You there?

Sighing, Adam got up and opened the door.

Charlie: Oh! There you are! Al wanted me to get you for dinner prep!

Adam groaned. Fuck sakes: Yeah, thanks, babe. I'll go see him.

Charlie: Great! Thank you, Adam.

Adam waved her off and headed downstairs- where that short bastard was drinking. With Angel. He left him to come drink?! Little cunt.

Lucifer: There he is! Looking so awake this late at night!

Adam: Fuck you.

Angel and Lucifer laughed, making Adam glare at them.

He's over these bastards. He needed to get out of here, but it'll have to be after dinner. Fuck it all.

The Hotel Yard

Adam: So, Lucifer hadn't heard this yet but there is an AI version of our show already.

Lucifer: Shit, okay.

AI Lucifer: Hello everyone I'm with my co-host Adam. And might I say you look like you've escaped from a mental institution.

Adam: So already you start off with insulting me

Lucifer: Yeah but we take turns

Adam: Giving blows to each other

Lucifer: Yeah we take turns blowing each other.

Adam: HAHAHA!!

AI Adam: That's not nice Lu

AI Lucifer: No, but you want to know something else? We're gay for each other.

Lucifer: What!? Hahaha!

Adam: Fucking Jesus hahaha!

I love these goobers so much 😂

AI Adam: We love recording this podcast. But our fathers hate us.

Lucifer and Adam nearly die if laughing.

Lucifer: W-What the fuck?!

Adam: It's not fucking wrong, dude!

[redpill-tfs]

I need some help. My family is sending me to my ultra-conservative redneck uncle's ranch for the summer and I'm already dreading having to listen to them spew the nonsense they hear on the news.

Do you have anything that could help make this summer a bit more tolerable?

I'd imagine that would be hard, going to spend time with someone you don't see eye to eye with, having to do hard labor in the sun when you're more of a computer guy. Forced to go to church when that's not really your thing. Hearing him talk about the corrupt politicians in Washington and how Trump is going to drain the swamp. I know exactly what will help you feel better about this summer. I put a little something in your packed lunch. Don't worry, I made sure it's vegan. I'd take it now so it can take effect by the time you get to your uncle's place.

It'll take you a little bit to get there in your new Honda, wanting to keep the car in good condition as long as you can. Your single bag in in the backseat. The highway is simple enough and uneventful, but your uncle lives about a mile from a small town, farmland and backroads the only way there. With no real choice in the matter, you leave your parent's driveway.

You turn on your Spotify playlist, getting a pop song from your favorite gay artist. You sing along, your dyed hair swaying as you move your body, thinking about how much of an inspiration they are to you. The highway is strangely quiet for this time of day, but you don't mind the lack of traffic.

The song ends as a country song starts playing next. Must be one of the songs Spotify is recommending you today.You've never really been a fan of country music, finding it all seems to be about girls, trucks and beer, but you can tolerate it for one song. It's surprisingly catchy. Not your usual style of music, but it's not bad.

The lyrics are all about a guy in his worn out pick up truck, his worn out shirt and boots showing him to be a man's man. His calloused hands prove he's a hard worker. He sounds nothing like you, but you can almost relate to him in a strange way. After all, you're wearing your old boots for the drive. And you put on a worn out shirt and jeans too, just like your uncle always wears.

You don't remembering putting the outfit on, or even owning it in the first place, but before you can dwell on it too long the next song starts. It's another country song, this time about growing up in a small town and being a conservative man. It's got a nice beat to it as you tap your fingers against the steering wheel. You're nothing like the guy in the song, but the more you think about it, the more you remember visiting your uncle every summer to stay with him. He taught you the importance of conservative values, How those city slickers like your folks didn't know the meaning of hard work. You discovered your faith in God and he bought you your first Bible before you went back home. The godless liberals just want free handouts and to take your money for themselves.

You scoff at the sissies as yet another song plays. You recognize this song. It's Austin by Dasha. You sure can't relate to this song at all! Your boots are in good shape and your truck never would never break down on you. Sure it might need a new paint job from years of use but it still works as well as the day you got it. A birthday gift from your uncle. You're so glad he agreed to let you stay with him and gave you a job at his gun shop in town.

As you pulled into your uncle's driveway and hopped out of your truck, you knew this was going to be a good summer. And fall, winter, and spring.

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A Female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Thirty)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Thirty: Y/N rejoins Cillian for a short time after being home a week. She's missed him a lot, but had appointments to keep. Cillian is burning the candle at both ends when he finishes filming and heads for an evening event. He returns to Y/N a little tipsy, and while she loves his softness and affectionate side, her anxiety is never far behind. [anxiety themes]

@borntodiemp3 @strangeions @meadowshelby @watermeezer @lavender-haze-01 @cherry-cilly @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme

----------

“Are you sure you don't want to come?” Cillian asks, noisily dragging up the zip on his black jacket. He keeps his eyes on you as he pulls his beanie over his hair, and sweeps his fringe out of his eyes, across his forehead. You smile at him - he looks a little tired, but he looks cheerful, and you know he's actually really looking forward to meeting up with Max Porter again this evening for the All of This Unreal Time discussion. Home for Christmas is just around the corner, and you can tell he's both excited to finish up filming and get home, and that he's a little nostalgic about the end of filming really being the end of an era.

“No, you go. Enjoy your drink after,” you smile. You'd only been back in England with him since the afternoon and you are only staying for a couple of days. He's home very soon, but after heading back to Dublin over a week ago, your hormonally charged body had spurred you on to spend the an extra long few days and weekend with him again. You did wonder what your boss really thought of your recent dipping in and out, but with your secret knowledge that you'd sooner or later be leaving to have your baby, you were beginning to distance yourself a little. That, and being around Cillian was far more important to you right now. You'd barely seen him - landing after lunch and not turning up to the set, you'd made your way to the hotel and waited for him to get back. He'd arrived back, knackered but warm and affectionate, and then he'd showered and got ready to leave. But the weekend was ahead, and then of course you'd be going home again before Cillian comes home a week later.

“I'll be quiet getting back,” he promises.

“You two aren't sinking a few?” You ask, smiling. “Come rolling back here to me drunk and pliable and I'll use you like a sex toy.”

You watch his face as the words settle slowly into his mind, and he goes through about five different expressions before he raises his eyebrows and runs his tongue slowly across his bottom lip. You can't help laughing, and he shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Messer,” he tuts. “Here, you didn't tell me what the doctor said this week,” he sobers a little. “You're all sorted out to see midwives and all?”

You nod your head. “Scan is booked for when they assume twelve weeks is at the minute, so it's on January fourteenth. Not long,” you smile. “At the Rotunda.”

He nods his head, “You nervous for it?”

You breathe deeply as you think about it and shrug your shoulders. “Excited, I think. She said that they'll be able to date fairly accurately, so well know when baby's gonna be due. And even better, you can be there.”

He smiles at you softly, his eyes creasing up at the sides. “I can't wait.” He says, gently.

“And then we can talk to everyone.” You say, and now you do feel nervous.

“It'll be alright,” he insists. “Don't be worrying.” he pushes his hands into his jacket pocket as he smiles at you, standing beside the bed. “Are you ordering food?” He asks.

You shake your head, “No I think I'm going to spread out all over your side of the bed and sleep until you get back, then…” you grin, and as he chuckles a breathy laugh you watch him closely. You'd missed him, and while you do wish he wasn't going out, you know you have the weekend together and then it's a single week until he's wrapped and home.

“Will you not come?” He asks and you wonder if it's for the missing of you, from you having gone home for a while, or if he's being polite. “It's only an intimate wee thing, and you can sit out back if you want? Then I'll getcha a 7up.” He has a cheeky smile as he mutters his self-teasing joke.

You shake your head, but you're endeared. “I'm tired, love. I'll wait here for you. Go on, go and have your fun. Don't be nervous. And then go and drink responsibly - you're on set again tomorrow.” you smile softly. “Love you.”

He winks as he draws his hands from his pockets and gathers his phone, earphones, and room key. “I'll see you later.”

It is indeed not too late when Cillian returns to the hotel. He smells of cold air and cigarettes, and the inside of a pub. He's definitely not blind drunk, but you can certainly tell he's thrown a few glasses of Guinness into him by the blush on his cheeks and how his heavy eyes are heavier still. He shuts the door and turns to you with a sleepy smile as he tugs off his beanie. You hadn't been sleeping, mostly in anticipation of him coming back, and you find his impish expression amusing. “Hello,” you raise your eyebrows. “Good time?”

He purses his lips and nods his head. “I only had four,” he promises you, and he smiles again as he braces his hand on the wall and toes off his boots. “And,” he grins widely, “I didn't piss in the street.” He nods and empties the pockets in his jacket, throwing the items onto the nightstand, then drags his jacket off.

“Are you absolutely sure it was four?” You laugh.

“No, it was five,” he says as he yawns. He tosses his jacket over into the corner of the room where his case is sitting open. “I’m not locked,” he insists.

“No, you're not.” You agree, “I mean, you got your shoes off by yourself.” You laugh lightly. You watch, amused, as he balances to tear off his jeans and shirt, leaving himself standing in his socks and boxershorts. “You might want pyjamas, Cill, it's cold.” You say, eyes wandering over his body. How you'd managed without sex, as charged as your body felt, was beyond you. The mere sight of him in his underwear is making you want him, and all you can do is sigh.

He shakes his head, “I'm grand. Sure, we'll cuddle up.” he raises his eyebrows as he pulls the duvet back and slips into the bed. Keeping his word, he immediately curls up close to you. Face to face, he lines his body up along yours and wraps his arms over your hip, resting his hand over the small of your back. He sighs and moves around, getting comfortable, and you smile when he snuggles his cheek into the pillow. “I had tictacs.” He says, suddenly and randomly, and it takes you a moment to realise he means that he's attempted to remove the lingering of cigarettes from his mouth. He raises one eyebrow, proud of himself, and all you can do is laugh again. His eyes are dragging and sleep is upon him, ready to claim him fully.

“Sure it was only the five?” You check, worrying slightly that he'll be hungover for work tomorrow. But you're amused at his sleepy pliability, too. Less in check of his words, less introverted and guarded. Your home Cillian, but even softer and more open. You can smell his smell from his skin as you move closer to him, mixed with all he's added and been around for the day, and it's home for you. He doesn't answer, though, and his breathing is slowly evening out. You close your eyes and listen to the sound of his breaths a little way back from your face, and the low volume of the TV in the corner of the room. You knew you'd missed him - you always did - but you didn't realise how much, not until you had him here, now, body and soul, and it almost hurt to feel so much better. What a ridiculously paradoxical thing.

Even with him close, and having been looking forward to this moment since you'd arrived back in England, you find it hard to relax enough to sleep. It is after midnight, and Cillian is snuffling hot breaths into the crook of your neck where he's managed to snuggle in and practically bury his face. You're comfortably warm with his body and the duvet, and you're settled besides, but sleep feels impossible. You turn a little more and bring your left hand up and onto the back of Cillian's head, turning circles with your fingers in his hair, wondering if the comfortable stim might help soothe you off to sleep easier. All it does, though, is give you the biblical need for his body. You sigh and draw back your hand, letting it flop down heavily onto the bed, and you jump as Cillian's phone vibrates noisily against the top of the nightstand, filling the room with its odd, deep sound. You do wonder what it is, but you don't have quite enough trust issues to look. But it does stir you back to his hourlong texting session with his ex wife when you were last with him. You hate that your anxiety goes there, because you don't want to feel or think this way about him, but go there it does. What were they talking about? He said Christmas - but for an hour? Why were there so many messages - back and forth, they just kept going?! Had he told her about the pregnancy and she was laying into him via text? Then you sink into a rabbit hole of fears over Cillian really being set in not having a baby, and you having to separate, or worse …what if he simply upped and went back to her?

Only for the intensity of the feeling of complete and utter love with Cillian's face all but smashed into your shoulder, you might have gotten out of bed and paced the floor of the small hotel room. Instead, so close to him, you stay where you are and return your fingers to the back of his head, turning them through his hair, praying that the insane level of anxiety can be replaced. Hell, you'd take the super-charged sexual frustration over this. This hurts. It fills your mind with fears you thought you'd dampened out or lost entirely. You close your eyes and focus on breathing through your nose, hoping that inhaling Cillian's smell beside you will calm your senses and remind you of what is real and tangible, washing away all that anxiety tries to make you believe.

When morning comes, you wake to the sounds of music and running water and immediately know that, whatever time it is, those noises mean that Cillian is around. You take a moment for your vision to adjust, then reach for your phone on the nightstand beside you. It's almost seven am, and you're glad that you haven't slept past him leaving for the set. You stay lying down, but turn to Cillian's empty side of the bed to await his return from the shower. You already feel a little queasy, but you know from experience, now, that sometimes just staying lay down can be helpful. Through the half open bathroom door you can hear John Lennon's version of Stand By Me blasting, and Cillian's half hearted singing along. You smile, still warm under the duvet, and realise that this is another thing you'd missed. So simple, so domestic, but so rooted in your day to day life. The music goes quieter for a moment, and you know that means he's received some kind of notification, and you hate that you want to know about it. He never asks you about your calls and messages! You can't even blame the pregnancy - you're always afraid Yvonne will say something that draws him back, regardless of how difficult you know their marriage was at the end. You sigh, once again mentally screaming at your brain to shut up. Why are you ruining this for yourself? You're going to have a baby - his baby! - and he seems so happy about it, despite everything before. Why are you worried?

You're still in your head so deeply that it scares the life out of you when Cillian's phone lands heavily on the bed beside you, and you jump a little under the duvet. “Jesus!” You catch your breath.

“Sorry,” Cillian chuckles, holding his towel tightly around his waist. His skin is red from the heat of the shower, and he's still dripping wet. “Was it too loud, did it wake you?” He asks. The phone is still playing music, and he points towards where it has landed near his pillow.

You shake your head slowly, “No, it's okay.”

“I've to get my arse in gear, or I'll be late.” He moans and turns his back to you as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“You're not hungover then?” You ask, making yourself more comfortable on the bed. You peers at you over his shoulder and you smile at the raised eyebrows he throws. “You were tipsy, at least.”

“I was not,” he shakes his head. “I remember everything.”

“You blurted out about tictacs?!” You laughs.

He chuckles lightly and his wet shoulders shake. “What did I say about fucking tictacs?”

You laugh a little more, “You got into bed and, like, cuddled up and just said ‘I had tictacs'. I assumed you meant from having been smoking, but you fell asleep right after so I never got to ask.” He's laughing as you recount the story, and you receive your unspoken confirmation that he'd definitely had more than he let on.

He stands up, his lower half now dried and dressed, and he turns to you as he scrubs the towel over his hair. “Ah, sure I'm gas craic.” He laughs, dropping the towel to the floor. “It was obviously the magic number to have been both drunk, and have no hangover.” He winks, and reaches for the navy t-shirt that's folded on his pillow. He drags a knitted sweater over the top and then runs his hands through his hair.

“Crafty bastard,” you grin. “I'm glad you had a good night. How was it with Max?”

Cillian nods with an enthusiastic smile, eyebrows raised. “Good, yeah. Really good.” He smiles again. “You're not coming today?” He asks, “I've time to wait if you're quick.”

You shake your head, “No, I feel really sickly,” you grimace. “Tell Packy I say hello, though.”

He nods his head once, “I will.”

“Cill…” you call as he bends to the floor to pick up his discarded towel. He snaps back up and looks at you squarely. “It's doesn't matter.” You say, chickening out of asking about his messages with Yvonne on your last visit. It's your anxiety bringing it up, Cillian probably doesn't even remember it clearly.

He frowns, “What's up?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. “Go on, Tommy Shelby, go and smoke sixty cigarettes and drink fake whiskey.”

His frown is still there, right af at the top of the bridge of his nose, and he purses his lips a little. “Are y'alright?”

You nod your head against the pillow, “Yeah I think so, I just feel a bit yuck.”

He pushes out his bottom lip, “Go back to sleep then, so.” He smiles, “Rest, but eat and drink though, yeah? You've to look after yourself. And that wee one.”

You smile at him softly, at the concern he offers. “I will.”

“Sure I'll ring you when I can. But if you're really sick like, call or something. I can leave the phone with Steven maybe.” He suggests and you shake your head.

“No, don't, we can't let on yet. After the scan - after Christmas. Before that, if we tell anyone at all, it's just your boys and Yvonne. Nobody else.” You insist.

“I don't like that rule,” he shakes his head. “If something happens, and nobody knows, we've to go through that something in secret. At least if people know, there's…I don't know, you've support there.* He shrugs. “I'm not wishing on it,” he says quickly, perhaps reading something in your face as he speaks. “God, I'm not. I just mean…” he shrugs. “Sure I'll keep the phone in the pocket, right? And I'll talk to you later.* He climbs up onto the bed and crawls awkwardly across it on his hands and knees, just to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. “I love ya!* He says, and smiles.

Your heart is full, but your mind is racing. You smile as you place your hand on his cheek, just for a moment. “Love you.” As he leaves, you feel flustered and shaky. Another thing to mull over, to worry about it, and he hadn't meant to plant it. But fuck - what if?

[hanaybuns]

Misconception about Karamatsu

ok so i plan to make a more in depth analysis about karamatsu's relationship with his brothers individually and as a group, but first i have to get something out of the way

i think what some people need to understand about karamatsu is that, yes, he's a kind person for being able to tolerate all the crap his brothers put him through, but thats also sometimes just how siblings are.

like, if you're an only child or have a really friendly relationship with your sibling, you might not understand. but as someone who has a very totty-esque younger sibling, i totally understand why karamatsu is able to let it slide.

(way...way too many examples to count...)

because when my younger sibling insults me or steals my food or uses my haircare or ruins my stuff, for the most part, i don't care. or i guess i can't care. why? because that's just how they are. that's just how it is! if i made a fit every single time something like that happened, i would go half crazy (just look at choromatsu)

i cannot stress to you guys enough that the whole experience of being an older sibling is literally just putting up with various bs that your younger siblings do. you have to let it slide because you're older and supposedly more mature. like, i'm not a saint, i just let it slide because i don't have a choice! that's just how my younger sibling is, and there's honestly really nothing i can do about that.

honestly, if anything, rather than kind i think it displays that karamatsu is mature and takes his position as second oldest seriously. i'm petty, so honestly i'll still argue and insult them back when they piss me off. but karamatsu? kara's as cool as a cucumber. just lets out a mmmm~~? and calls it a day

i'll go more in depth about this on a later day, but this is also why kara is harsher on osomatsu when he's being awful. it's because kara takes his role as an older brother seriously and has higher standards for osomatsu because that's his only older brother.

so yeah this isn't exactly an analytical post, but i feel like i always see people citing the fact that karamatsu puts up with todo and ichi's awfulness towards him as evidence that he's this kind, saint-like angel. but i feel like that's a mischaracterization that stems from a lack of understanding about sibling relationships.

while i do think kara is kind, this more so feels like a heightened sense of responsibility as an older sibling than anything. he's kind of just used to being the bigger person and doesn't care that much anymore (i still think he may care a little, but he's too exclusivematsu to express it). and even then, i don't think he's always consciously trying to be mature about it, sometimes he just feels like it'll be not worth the trouble to complain (pizza skit).

i still think it's a good trait in and of itself, because it's honestly soooo hard to let things slide at times for me, but ultimately...it's kind of just part of being an older sibling.

[dreamerimpossible]

Slasher Reaction When You're Not Interested In Sex

Warnings: +18 content, manipulation, obsession, unhealthy relationships, dark content, there is a hint of non-con in Art the Clown and Alex DeLarge (are you surprised?), angst, mentions of infidelity in some.

Characters: Michael Myers, Chucky, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Patrick Bateman, Hannibal Lecter, Vincent Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Leatherface, Art The Clown, Jason Dean, Alex DeLarge, Kurt Kunkle, Brahms.

Michael Myers

Does he really care about that stuff? I feel like you'd have to actively provoke him to get him interested in having sex with you. If you don't bring out that side of him, he won't care. Seriously, he doesn't care. It's quite likely that he won't even care whether or not you want to have sex. He'd rather have you have a bad side that you can't control, something that makes you more like him than anyone else. He'll enjoy that badness and chaos. Sex takes a backseat.

Chucky (Human Version)

I honestly don't think it would work. However, if he really wants to keep you for himself, you'll have to agree to let him have sex with other people. In that case, I think it would work. He'll try to convince you anyway, but he won't force you if you say no. But you'll probably fight, because he'll think it's personal and that you have something against him, and then you'll have an argument that escalates and you'll end your relationship in the worst way. After that they'll get back together and then break up again. And so on. Although, if we're being honest, that scenario is going to happen either way (Chucky is toxic).

Billy Loomis

Okay, he will. But he'll be very manipulative; he'll push you all the time about it, and it'll be much worse if you know he's Ghostface since he might threaten you, and his manipulations will be much worse than if he was pretending to be a good boyfriend. I think you'd eventually agree, but he'll get used to you giving it to him, and it'll be much worse when you say no. I think he wouldn't force you physically, but he'll pretty much use psychological manipulation to get you to do what he wants from you, which is still forcing.

Stu Macher

If you're just another low-level conquest, he'll cheat on you or leave you for someone else. If you're someone special, he'll stick with you even though he gets frustrated. He could be very loyal if you push his weaknesses correctly without Billy finding out. He will insist that you have sex with him in a silly way, acting innocent and playful, but you will be able to see his disappointed and upset face when you say no. However, if you play your cards right, I think he might continue with you without cheating on you; but you have to manipulate him, which will make your relationship even more toxic, but at this point…who cares?

Patrick Bateman

Tough scenario for you. If he thinks you are a person worthy of him, but you just happen not to want to have sex as often as he does, he will overlook that little flaw of yours. However, that doesn't mean it will be good. He wants you to admire him, to be the center of his life, to moan his name loud enough for everyone to hear. If he doesn't feel that way in the sexual realm as well, he will end up cheating on you with other people, but he will keep you by his side selfishly.

Hannibal Lecter

He doesn't care. Just give him control over you in all the other areas of your life. Give him the pleasure of watching you break down to the point of questioning your own morals and life choices. Make him play with your mind and show him your reactions. Tell him everything that happens to you so he can see if he can use it in some way. Give him a challenge and keep him entertained with your conversations. Provide him with a context that leaves him in euphoria and maximum exaltation. If you can do that…who needs sex?

Vincent Sinclair

He will be slightly disappointed, but he will respect you. He will not treat you differently or anything like that. He will not cheat on you or betray you in any way either. He will be very frustrated if Bo finds out and starts bothering him, but it is nothing he cannot handle. Other than that, I don't see any other problems. He cares more about your loyalty and that you follow the orders imposed on you. That's all.

Jason Voorhees

The best scenario for him. It will be much better if you do not want to have sex ever. He likes not having to fight those instincts that disturb him greatly. It's not even going to be brought up; just tell him you're not interested, and the subject will be forgotten as if it never even existed. This doesn't change your relationship at all. In fact, I think it will be better, because for Jason you won't be an unwanted temptation for him, so he won't have two opposing thoughts about you to deal with.

Leatherface

It's okay; he'll understand. He won't force you or anything like that. He won't treat you differently either. I don't think he cares about those things, if I'm honest. He's more focused on his family and loyalty. And that includes you too. He asks that you get along with his family and be okay with what they do. That you don't have a problem, basically.

Art the Clown

He doesn't care in the conventional way. But if he finds out that the subject is sensitive for you, he will use it against you. So it's best not to let it show or say anything to him, because this man is a fucking madman who enjoys other people's pain (you know that). If you don't say it, the subject will go unnoticed for a long time. If Art ever feels sexual desire towards you and wants to have sex with you, he will simply take you and use you. Seriously, he won't ask questions. He sees you as his toy.

Jason Dean

For him not to care, you would have to be crazy like him. In that case, he will overlook it, because he will believe that something as crude as sex does not have to hinder a love as perfect as yours. I think that at first he will feel personally offended by your refusal; he will try to explain to you that he feels rejected. If you explain it sincerely, he will understand and will not insist further. But he will use it against you in arguments to get you to give him more attention and spend more time with him, claiming that he does a lot of things for you.

Alex DeLarge

Uh… no. He wouldn't take you seriously if you didn't want to have sex as much as he does. He likes sex quite a bit; he's not going to give that up. I think he might keep you around if you like ultraviolence and enjoy it as much as he does. I don't think he'll leave behind a person to help him and follow his orders. But you two can't be a couple; it just wouldn't work. He'll actively try to provoke you into falling for it. In your case, it would be much more fun if you gave it to him consensually, because that would mean he has complete control over you and can make you do things he wants of your own free will. However, if he doesn't want you around him because he's not interested in you in any way other than sexually… then things get darker. We already know his tendencies.

Kurt Kunkle

If he doesn't feel rejected, he doesn't care. If he feels rejected, the relationship will be more toxic. He is manipulative and obsessive. He wants you to admire and love him; if he feels that you dislike him sexually, he will not force you, but he will be excessively controlling, and you will argue a lot. He uses it to victimize himself. There will come a point where he becomes a nuisance to you. On the other hand, if he does not feel rejected, that is fine; he will be toxic in other aspects of the relationship.

Brahms

He will take it personally, no matter what you tell him. He will manipulate you, and it will be emotionally draining for you. You will probably agree on several occasions to get him to shut up, or you will end up manipulating him with sex to obey you. He will obey you every time if you offer him sex. He would like to resist, but he is too hungry for contact and needs to feel the sensation.

[stuckinmymind22]

playlists | stay/is it over now? + better man

Chapter 1

pair: portgas d. ace x afab reader (she/her)

modern au | multimedia | musician ace | more info on story

tags: fluff fluff and more fluff, cursing, group chat alert, luffy cameo, goofy ace, also they’re both fucking stupid lowkey (she said like she didn’t write them that way) lowkey imply ace and reader are sluts (good for you!!)

mdni: please - look i can't tell you how to live your life but this isn't for you pls avoid thx

wc: 7.7k (i said it would be shorter and it's the same fucking length 😭)

excerpt:

“You wanna go back to my place?” Ace asks. After the words leave his mouth he seems to have realized the potential implications of them. His face reddens and he trips over his words, “N-Not like that - I -” You cut him off with a laugh, unknowingly bestowing mercy on the poor man, who knows he would’ve dug himself deeper trying to escape. This is by far the most embarrassed you have ever seen him, and it is kind of endearing. It’s clear that he has started to let you past his confident persona, and you appreciate the vulnerability.  Your interruption gives him time to recover, at least a little bit. “I meant to like play video games,” he clarifies, scratching the back of his neck. To his relief, you readily agree to his offer, rather eagerly too. He probably shouldn’t read into that, right?

a/n: AHHHHHHH sorry it took so long i want to say it wont happen again but i am not predictable. also it turns out i really like the word mischief (thank you thesaurus)

we're working really hard on not second guessing every single thing i write, but i am in the trenches lol somethings might be cringe but that's part of the process idfk

important: theres a lot of text messages (well i feels like a lot) and i did my best to add in alt text so i hope that works if anyone needs it. lowkey starts off a bit choppy bc there's a lot of texts but it'll get longer i promise (this'll also happen again though)

song(s): there's a lot of songs in this chapter, so i made a list but they'll still be linked when used.

just a note that the songs don't necessarily reflect what happens in the chapter

stay - post malone is it over now? - taylor swift better man - 5 seconds of summer

here's the playlist for everything

He remembered, that’s the first thing you think when you hear the line. It’s a question about last night’s show. Because you told him how you were dreading it. Not only did he remember, he cared enough to ask. 

Holy shit.

A confusing feeling blossoms in your chest when you figure it out. You don’t want to not read into it too much, but there’s a portion of your mind that is running wild. You're unsure of the exact intention behind it but it’s got you hook line and sinker – not that you are going to admit that to anyone, not even yourself. 

Truth be told it is something you never would’ve thought of doing, talking with lyrics like this. Ace found a love language that you didn't know existed, much less one that you’re already fluent in. The platonic kind, you hastily tact on to the thought.

Knowing he’s already near his phone (judging by his quick response time) you’re calling him before you even notice you’re doing it. To your surprise, Ace picks up before the second ring, leaving you no time to second guess your actions. “You know you could’ve just asked me to call you, or call me yourself,” you tease, forgoing a greeting. Once he answered, talking to him came naturally, despite your initial nerves.

“Well hello to you too,” Ace laughs. His voice sounds even better than you remember, somehow. “And I know, but this is more fun,” the mischievous twinge in his voice has you wishing you could see his face in more than your mind’s eye. “So are you gonna tell me or do I have to guess,” he teases.

“I don't know, maybe you should ask,” you push back. Ace sighs exaggeratedly but relents. “I’m so glad you asked,” you giggle. You go on to tell him about the night before, which, luckily, went better than you expected.

Unaware, or uncaring, of the passage of time the two of you talk for nearly an hour before the call comes to an end. Your heart’s racing, you need to tell someone about this.

note: i completely forgot about kaya until i was adding the alt text to this and i dont wanna redo it, so please forgive me

Despite Ace making an effort to show up early, when he arrives at the cafe you agreed to meet at he finds you waiting there for him. You spot him quickly and wave him over wearing a big smile. He tries to ignore the way his heart picks up pace. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” you say playfully, bumping his shoulder as he stands next to you entering the line.

“It’s a small world,” Ace shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets, “Whatcha gonna get?” 

“Why? You wanna copy me, Cowboy?” you tease, eyes flickering to his hat. 

“Cowboy?” he questions, amused. “It suits you,” you shrug. Ace can’t help but recognize how this mirrors one of your first interactions when he called you doll for the first time. 

The banter between the two of you flows freely, until you sit down at a table in the back corner of the cafe and your demeanor starts to shift.  Ace watches you as you stare at the table and play with your hands. He can’t help but wonder what’s on your mind, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen you nervous like this before. Whatever inner turmoil you were experiencing seems to disappear and you look back at him with a disarming smile.

“I don’t think I asked this, but how long have you been performing? I mean seeing you play - it’s clear you’re a seasoned vet when it comes to crowd work cause that kind of skill doesn’t appear overnight,” your singing of his praises has Ace becoming flustered. He’s never been good with compliments.

It isn’t hard to see that he isn’t as confident in his abilities as he pretends to be. Logically, he knows that what you’re saying is true, but something in his brain refuses to believe it. Either way his cheeks flare up and he avoids your eyes until the red in his face has died down. 

“I started playing shows a few years ago, in my late teens. Playing really wherever I could and I did that for a couple of years,” it’s at this point he looks at you again, “I had to quit for a few months but other than that it’s been nonstop since I started.”

“Was that when you joined the navy?” you ask. Ace is a little taken aback by your question, he didn’t expect you to remember something he told you in passing the first time you met. This time, Ace is able to hide the blush he felt creeping up his neck. He can’t help but feel ridiculous, he isn’t like this with other people. Besides, you’re friends, just friends.

“Yeah, I got pretty big over there,” he admits. “I even had a few labels approach me, but I wasn’t interested in working with them. One of them’s super persistent though. Like annoyingly persistent. I said I wasn’t interested and they didn’t let go. They’re a big one too, so not even me moving across the country stopped them from knocking at my door.” 

“They’re still bothering you?” you raise an eyebrow. Shit, he was not supposed to tell you that. “If they’re that interested in you, you probably could get a good deal.”

“I’m working on it,” the words slip out of his mouth before he can think about them. Shit. He really wasn’t supposed to say that. Why did he tell you that? You barely know each other. 

But then again, he’s always been a pretty good judge of character and for some reason he trusts you. Now that the cat’s out of the bag there’s no point in trying to hide it, plus he’s been dying to talk to someone about it.

Ace leans in, scanning your surroundings before whispering, “I’m not supposed to be telling you this, so you gotta swear yourself to secrecy.” Wearing an endearing, goofy grin he extends his finger. A pinky promise.

Donning a faux seriousness you nod in agreement.  You’re barely able to contain your amusement as you swear yourself to secrecy. Something in Ace’s stomach flutters at you playing along with the bit, but he simply chalks it up to sharing information he’s not supposed to.

After the promise is made Ace tells you that “for some reason” this big label is dead set on signing him. You know the reason they would do that, you think it’s blatantly obvious too. You aren’t sure if he’s being coy saying that or if he doesn’t see how talented he actually is (it’s both). Because of their interest he has been given the upper hand in negotiations, which for an unsigned, relatively unknown artist, is practically unheard of.

He knows he probably shouldn’t go into the details but you look so cute intently listening to him like this. Plus you did pinky promise. “It is still in talks, so nothing is set in stone yet, but I’m not supposed to be discussing it,” he clarifies, you nod in understanding and he continues, “To be honest, I’m not even sure I’ll take the deal, even if they give me everything I want. I really like to be independent and not having to answer to anyone.

“However,” Ace’s tone turns mischievous and his eyes light up, “it is fun to see how far they’ll go.”

“So you’re trolling them,” you question, clearly amused by his antics. “Basically,” he confirms with sparkling eyes and a shit-eating grin. “But who knows? I might take them up on the offer” he feigns sincerity, pausing for a moment. You raise an eyebrow, knowing more is coming. “...Eventually, probably not though.” There it is, the roguish smile slips back onto his face. You shake your head but fail to hold back your laugh.

“‘s kinda annoying that they don’t leave me alone. And I’m doing fine without ‘em. I’m nearly halfway through my first album, just gotta get back in the studio – it’s been a while,” Ace chuckles.

“I don’t think I’ve been in a studio in years,” you confess. 

“You make music?” he questions, a little surprised you didn’t bring that up earlier, although you haven’t known each other too long he supposes.

“You make music?” Ace asks. He’s a little surprised you’ve never brought it up.

“I mean kinda?” you say more as a question. “I really enjoy production, I actually went to school for it.” 

“For real?”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm, “that’s where I met Luffy and Usopp actually. We took a class together and Usopp’s the one who got me my job.”

“You should come into the studio with me sometime. Maybe you can show me the ropes or something,” Ace says so casually with a charming smile that it nearly takes your breath away.

“I don’t know, I’m definitely out of practice,” you confide.

“So?” he questioned, “I’m sure it���ll be easy to pick back up.”

“We’ll see,” you smile, leaving it open ended.

Your conversation wanders and by the time it dies down your drinks are long gone and so is your reason to stay, but neither of you truly want to leave each other’s company. A rare semi-awkward silence envelopes the table as the two of you independently rack your brain for some way to prolong your time together, neither of you aware that the other is doing the same.

“You wanna go back to my place?” Ace asks. After the words leave his mouth he seems to have realized the potential implications of them. His face reddens and he trips over his words, “N-Not like that - I -”

You cut him off with a laugh, unknowingly bestowing mercy on the poor man, who knows he would’ve dug himself deeper trying to escape. This is by far the most embarrassed you have ever seen him, and it is kind of endearing. It’s clear that he has started to let you past his confident persona, and you appreciate the vulnerability. 

Your interruption gives him time to recover, at least a little bit. “I meant to like play video games,” he clarifies, scratching the back of his neck. To his relief, you readily agree to his offer, rather eagerly too. He probably shouldn’t read into that, right?

~~~~~~

It isn’t until you are both standing in front of his door that the nerves really hit Ace. He doesn’t usually bring girls home, especially not just to hang out. Now that he’s thinking about it he has never brought a girl here since he moved in a few months ago. You’re kind of uncharted waters to him, he admits to himself. But there’s no going back now, besides, he wanted this– he wants this.

You can see the tension build in his shoulders as thoughts race through his mind. Ace opens the door, moving to the side to let you in first. You’re curious what’s got him stressed but you decide not to question it, instead you direct your attention to the interior.

The apartment is pretty standard for a single man in his twenties. It has all the necessities, a couch, a lamp, a TV (with its own dedicated stand, so that’s impressive), and a small coffee table. If anything it was above average out of the many similar places you’ve been to. The only things out of place were the guitar precariously perched against the couch and a litany of notebooks. Evidence of his songwriting. He moves the notebooks and guitars out of the way with great care.

“Um, what game do you want to play?” Ace questions, consciously trying not to be awkward. 

You rack your brain for a game, it doesn't take you long to settle on one. It's a popular one that you're quite good at - there's the added bonus that it's competitive and you and Ace have a score to settle (not that this compares to drinking but it is a competition so it still counts in your mind). 

“You’re in luck,” he says, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Little do you know that you picked the one he wants to play; it’s one of his favorites too. As he is pulling up the game he tosses you a controller. “I should warn you that I am pretty good at this one,” he teases, “But don’t worry, I’ll let you warm up. Give you a fighting chance and all.”

You scrunch your nose in mock offence. “I’m not worried,” you assert, holding your head high, “I don’t even need a warm up, I’m ready to kick your ass right now.”

“I like the confidence,” Ace responds, “but I haven’t played for a while so please.” He isn’t exactly lying, he hasn’t played the game in a while, but he isn’t exactly telling the truth either – he does genuinely want you to have a fighting chance and he knows that this way your pride won’t get in the way. Your eyes soften and you relent to his request.

After choosing characters and picking one of the easier maps you start playing. Despite being the one who claimed he needed a refresher, Ace is very talkative. The things he’s bringing up aren’t even related to the game, still you entertain him and answer his questions, finding it amusing that he’s unable to keep his mouth shut.

Somehow, you don’t notice how Ace keeps stealing looks at you – he can’t help it though. You’re sitting cross legged next to him, your knee just barely brushing against him, drawing his attention with every slight move you make. It doesn’t help that you look so pretty focused like this, your tongue peaking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration. Once again, you’re confusing him. 

He tries talking to take his mind off of it but not only did that not work, it also made him awful at the game. In the first practice round you absolutely annihilate him. There is no other way around it. You tease him for it too, asking if he needs more time to warm up. Ace has no shame in taking you up on that offer, this time stepping up his game. He’s doing pretty well, your skill levels start to seem pretty evenly matched. Feeling more confident he risks a glance at you, and yet again his performance falters. This time he snaps out of it quicker, making a comeback and even winning the round.

“You ready to play for real, Dollface?” Ace challenges.

“You ready for your ego to get bruised,” you retort with a playful glimmer in your eyes. “I don’t see that happening, Doll,” he teases back. “You never know,” you say. Ace laughs, shaking his head.

“Best two out of three?” he questions. “Sure,” you agree, “but it won’t matter either way, I’m gonna crush you.” You know you’re not that good at the game but it’s fun to talk shit idk.

 It doesn’t take long for the competition to heat up, both of your competitive natures coming to light. Playful smack talk becomes the backdrop of the rounds with both of you occasionally bumping the other to psych them out. Round three things start to get really tense, you’re tied and so the winner takes all.

Ace manages to take the lead by a rather significant margin, “Looks like I’m winning this one,” Ace beams, his victory seeming imminent. 

“Not so fast, hot stuff,” you push back. The comment takes him by surprise, throwing him off of his game. His brain pauses, did you just admit that you also find him attractive? 

“Oh so I’m hot stuff now?” he teases. He watches you freeze as embarrassment takes over. “I kinda liked Cowboy,” he continues, with a fake pout.

“It’s not like it’s a lie though,” you say, making momentary eye contact, “might even be more fitting.” Okay now you doubled down on it. Ace is definitely reading into it now. Even after he recovers from the initial shock he doesn’t refocus on the game, his attention now centered on you. You (unknowingly) take advantage of his distraction and manage to pull ahead and win the round. 

Going to rub your victory in his face you notice that he is out of it.  You realize that he was playing half heartedly and demand a rematch. You want to win fair and square. Ace complies and he wins the next one. You try to walk back the rematch claiming the victory was valid, but (predictably) he fights back. Best two out of three turns into best three out of five to best five out of seven. Eventually, you stop keeping score at all.

Laughter echoes throughout the room, both of your antics and tactics for winning getting more and more ridiculous. You can’t recall the last time you laughed this hard. You really like being around Ace, and that might become a real problem, but for now you push that to the back of your mind. It’s an issue for later, for now you want to concentrate on the present and enjoy his company.

Although you’d started at a respectable distance, that gap’s been closing slowly without your awareness. Following another win you turn to gloat and you realize exactly how close you are. Ace’s freckles are much more visible from here. Automatically, your brain starts painting constellations on his cheeks finding patterns in the dots speckling his face.

Your eyes fall down to his lips and stop their journey. It is clear that something has shifted. There is an unknown gravity that is pulling you in. You’re so close now, you can feel his breath fanning across your face. If you lean in just a little bit more –

The sound of the front door slamming open brings you back to reality. Eyes grow wide in joint surprise. Luffy’s greeting rings out through the room. Before he can suspect anything you move away from Ace, trying to bury your disappointment.

Ace, whose back is towards the door, shakes his head, muttering a curse at his brother before turning around. “Luffy, what did I tell you about slamming the door,” Ace shouts, chastising his brother. “Sorry,” Luffy laughs, kicking his shoes off.

You take the moment of refuge to process what just happened, well what almost just happened. It’s good that this happened actually, you reason with yourself. It would only complicate things in the long run. Imagine if things go south and you were forced to see him at work, no thank you. 

Ace gives up on scolding Luffy for his repeated unannounced visits as the younger boy walks away into the kitchen. Hold on, why is Luffy here? “Sorry about him, he has keys to the place, which I regret giving him, and likes to show up and raid the fridge,” Ace makes a point to say the last parts louder, clearly intending for his brother to hear. Luffy’s boisterous laugh echoes from the kitchen.

Luffy must’ve caught onto the fact that Ace had company over because he exits the kitchen with curious eyes. Actively eating out of an open tupperware of leftovers, he scans the room catching sight of you on the couch. In classic Luffy fashion, he greets you excitedly – mouth full of food. Then he looks puzzled. “Why are you here?” he asks point blank. His abrasive questions are nothing new to you so you don’t take it personally.

“She’s –” Ace starts off, not getting far before Luffy cuts him off. “Oooo, video games! I wanna play!” Luffy exclaims. He quickly annihilates whatever it is he’s eating before returning the dishes to the kitchen.

Ace knows that Luffy isn’t the best at recognizing social cues and it isn’t even his fault. However, that doesn’t stop Ace from being annoyed. He is ready to throw him out by the scruff of his neck when Luffy reemerges. Luffy, still full of excitement, stands nearby seemingly waiting for permission to join.

Realizing Luffy would be a good buffer and help prevent whatever the hell nearly happened, you readily accept his involvement, but ultimately leave the decision up to Ace. Ace wants to say no, he really wants to say no, but you expressing your willingness for him to join and Luffy’s fucking puppydog eyes (Ace always has been a sucker for them, especially knowing that they are earnest everytime) has him caving really quick.

“Yay!” Luffy exclaims, running over to grab a controller. Luffy, for his part, is pumped to be hanging out with both of you guys. You’re two of his favorite people in the whole wide world, why wouldn’t he want to hang out with you together. He plops down between the two of you eager to play. You can’t help but chuckle at his extreme joy.

At first Luffy doesn’t play the game seriously, choosing to goof off. At one point he gets up in the middle of a match to go get (steal) more food, walking right past Ace who yells at him prompting Luffy to laugh. During his absence you and Ace focused on fighting each other, ignoring Luffy’s character – turns out that was a mistake. Luffy comes back, mouthful of food and manages to beat you both. And not by a little bit he destroys you both, claiming victory for the first time that night. In hindsight it was slightly suspicious that he was losing so badly when you remember him being somewhat decent at the game (as in he doesn’t die in 30 seconds, not that he wins).

After that the gloves are off, it turns out that Luffy is now good at the game, like really good. He goes on a winning streak. You’re rotating who is picking the map for the rounds and no matter what is chosen it’s like Luffy has the home game advantage. You and Ace grow increasingly more exacerbated, accusing him of cheating despite none of you knowing how one could even cheat at this game. He keeps laughing at the incredulous looks on your faces. 

Luffy bags nearly half a dozen rounds before you start to do something about it. When it is Luffy’s turn to pick the map, Ace catches your eyes. Somehow you two have become masters at silent communications. Immediately you know that he wants to form an alliance to take his brother down. With your joint effort you manage to take him out. Both of you cheer in victory, seemingly forgetting that the match wasn’t over until Luffy brings it up. And the game is back on.

Luffy doesn't win a single round after your joint effort to take him out, but he laughs at how competitive you and Ace are. You end up going back down to a two player game while Luffy watches, periodically leaving for more food (you’ve stopped questioning how he does it at this point). Luffy eventually announces his departure – citing his hunger as the reason, which Ace knows means that he cleaned them out again.

And just like that, you and Ace are back to being alone.

Some of the tension from earlier bubbles its way back up to the surface, and it’s clear that the both of you feel it too. Even after forcing the energy to go away it still lingers; it’s background radiation now. Despite your feelings, both of you are pretending that you’re “just friends.”

Ace is the first to break the silence, offering you something to drink (scolding himself for forgetting to do so earlier). Luffy might eat all their food but he knows better than to drink all their alcohol/but at least he leaves the booze alone. You gratefully accept his offer.

However, you were not prepared for what watching him use a bottle opener would do for you/would awaken in you. Why the fuck is that sexy when he does it? You feel insane. It is not normal to have that reaction and it is definitely not normal to feel that way about a friend. The problem is worse than you thought, you have to nip it in the bud. Have you seen his arms? Dear lord. Even your thoughts betray you. Annoyingly, you can’t stop imagining the feeling of his lips.

The worst part is he’s none the wiser for it, but you intend to keep it that way. You beat the horny demon back with a stick (insert bonk meme). With some effort you are finally able to force the thoughts away at least for the time being. Once you return to normal, you realize he’s talking to you.

“-- I don’t know how he did it. He used to suck at that game and whine every time he lost, I can’t believe he wiped the floor with us.” You’re quick to catch onto the fact that he’s talking about Luffy’s insane winning streak

“I wasn’t expecting it either. Last time we played this at game night he was pretty bad at it. It’s crazy how fast he turned that around,” you say, slipping into the conversation as if you were attentive the whole time.

~~~~~~

“You’ve never seen it?” Ace questions, eyes wide. After getting some food delivered, the two of you had gotten onto the topic of your favorite movies and you have never seen his favorite. You confirm again that you don’t know the movie. He shakes his head, “That ain’t right, we gotta fix this.” A chuckle leaves your lips, but you don’t protest. Ace is already pulling the film up when he pauses and checks the time, “Ah shit, it’s getting late. D’ya think you have time for a movie?” he questions with a hopeful gaze.

Checking your phone, you determine you have at least a couple more hours before you’d get uncomfortable walking home. “I got the time,” you say and watch as a faint smile blossoms on his lips – the very lips you were staring at earlier, dying to kiss. 

Calm down, you scold yourself.

“Okay, wait right there,” he says before dashing away sporting a childish grin. God, he is not helping your cause. He runs into the kitchen and moments later you hear the hum of a microwave. First you were horny and now you’re acting like you’re in high school. You need to pull yourself together. His footsteps pad off to somewhere else but you are no longer paying attention to him, at least you’re trying really hard not to. 

The description of the movie starts to look real interesting, you read and reread it until you can think straight. By the time that happens, Ace is already on his way back with a big bowl of popcorn and a comforter, shutting off lights as he goes.

After setting down the popcorn on the table, Ace plops onto the couch. “Come closer, I don’t bite,” he teases, lifting up the edge of the thick blanket. “Unless you want me to,” he winks, it could just be the lighting but his eyes seem darker than before. Your breath catches momentarily at the insinuation before a chuckle runs through you and you scoot over to join him underneath the blanket. 

Now satisfied that you’re all settled he presses play and promises you a cinematic masterpiece. It's hard for you to focus on it at first (or anything really), especially when you realize how close you are to him. In reality, you’re not much closer than you were playing video games, but under a blanket it somehow felt different.

It doesn’t take long before the story draws you in, pulling you away from your confusing thought processes. Ace, however, did not account for how distracting you would be. Oftentimes he found himself watching your reactions to what was happening more than the movie itself. He wants to think that it’s because he knows it so well he doesn’t need to look to know what’s happening, but that’s not true. 

Not too long after the film started you catch Ace looking at you. “What?” you question with a laugh. He silently dismisses your question with a smile, turning his attention back to the screen. Shrugging it off you do the same. 

Forcing himself to look at the TV instead of you turns out to be a good idea. This way you can no longer distract him. Ace falls back into the familiar storyline, getting absorbed by it. 

A little bit past the halfway mark of the film you start to grow sleepy. At some point you got even closer together, now you can feel his body heat radiating off of him. Your eyelids are getting heavy. His smell is oddly comforting, between his blanket and the source the scent envelopes you. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open so much that you don’t even notice when you give in to the exhaustion.

A weight falls on Ace’s shoulder out of nowhere. It doesn’t take him long to realize what it is or rather who it is. He’s ready to tease you about it too but his heart melts hearing your soft rhythmic breaths and seeing the peaceful look on your face. He isn’t sure what to do, but he is pretty sure that it follows the cat rule; he is now stuck there until you wake up.

Ace tries to go back to the movie, but he is hyper aware of your head on his shoulder. With nowhere to go and no way to escape you he is forced to face how he feels about you.

In all honesty, you confuse him (to put it bluntly). 

You’re friends, he knows that. Yet he wants more - at least he thinks he does. This doesn’t feel like it’s strictly platonic, there’s too much chemistry for that. Shit, he nearly kissed you not even three full hours ago. Troubling enough, he still wants to, and he has for a while now.

 Ace tries to figure out what you are to him - what he wants you to be to him – but he can’t quite make sense of it. He’s never really wanted someone like this before and that scares him. Your dynamic is something right outside of his familiarity, he understands most of it but there’s some parts that are confusing.

He knows that he thinks you’re hot, and if earlier meant anything he’s pretty sure you find him attractive too. That part he understands. He also gets the whole friendship thing. What he doesn’t understand is why you using him as a pillow makes him so happy. Why did his heart race when you sent him back songs asking him to coffee? And most of all what the hell possessed him to tell you about his family?

Back at the cafe you had gotten to talking about your childhoods, which prompted you to ask him about his family. The question was innocent enough, it was clear that you just wanted to get to know him, but it came with baggage you couldn't have possibly known about. He normally doesn’t like talking about it but he felt comfortable with you for some reason. Some information about it he felt comfortable enough to share with you freely. He told you about his mother, the neighbor who had offered him refuge when he needed it. Hell, he even touched on Dadan and his life before his brothers. Then you asked about his dad. Once again you had no idea of how the topic of the man leaves a bitter taste in Ace’s mouth. As soon as you noticed how uncomfortable he was, you completely switched the subject. You did it naturally too, like you were trying to cover up the fact that you were giving him an out. You were so quick to bail him out of a conversation he wasn’t comfortable with. It made him like you more, trust you more too, enough that he was willing to circle back to the topic.  He has been pushing the boundaries of what he’s comfortable with sharing already, so what’s a little bit more he reasoned to himself. Also, with how well the two of you get along, you were probably going to find out about it eventually. “I don’t talk to my father,” Ace stated emotionlessly, jumping head first into it during a lull in your conversation. You were clearly surprised by him bringing it back up, but you let him talk. “I’ve actually never met the man and never want to. I could if I did, I know where he is and how to reach him, but I have no desire to have anything to do with him,” a hint of bitterness seeps into his tone, contradicting the indifference he exhibited earlier. “Why?” your voice was small, the question seemed to have slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it, when you registered you had said it you clamped your hand over your mouth. “Ummm,” Ace hesitated, “he’s in prison, like famously so,” he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, no longer keeping eye contact. You could tell that he was debating whether he wanted to continue or not and you reminded him that he doesn’t have to tell you anything. That only strengthened his resolve. “I took my mom’s last name to not be associated with him. It’s funny that I’ve never had any contact with him and he still managed to fuck up my life,” he said with a half hearted laugh. He wasn’t entirely sure if he had the courage to tell you his name, but he ripped that bandaid off regardless, “His name’s Gol D. Roger.”  Your eyes widened in surprise. Of course you knew the name, he braced himself for impact, or questions at least, but it never came. Instead, he got a look of confusion from you, “You didn’t do any of it so I don’t really care who he is.” Your reaction reminded him a lot of Luffy’s when they were kids, maybe that’s why he felt safe telling you. “Sorry about not having a dad though,” you said, catching him off guard. He snorted, but in the way that coffee ended up going down the wrong pipe and in his nose. “Oh my god, are you okay,” you laughed. Ace responded with a weak thumbs up and you pat him on the back until he got his breathing back under control. 

Ace tries to think back on the day as a whole, but he keeps coming back to that moment. He couldn’t figure out what that moment alone means, let alone all of the other things too.

He has virtually no experience with romantic relationships, in fact they are so foreign to him that the thought of one doesn’t even cross his mind. He’s racking his brain to try and come up with an answer. The closest thing he can come up with is a friends with benefits situation. He’s done it before and it has worked (granted it has also failed miserably), but is it even worth the risk?

While he knows he’d be down for it, Ace has no clue if that is something you’d even consider. For all he knows you could be in a relationship. Fuck, what if you’re already seeing someone. He’s never asked, he’s never even thought to. This idea could be dead in the water already. Plus you’re probably not interested in him anyways.

Even if there is something between you two, Ace knows better than to make a move on you (despite how much he kinda wants to). You’re too entwined in his life at the moment for that to be a good idea. For starters you work at the place he now will have regular gigs at. And not simply work there but you are on the production team meaning you’d have regular contact. Not only that, but you’re one of Luffy’s good friends. He heard all about you before he even knew he was gonna meet you (Luffy called Ace a LOT while he was away, keeping him updated on his life in almost excruciating detail). If things were to get messy his brother would be stuck in the middle of it all, and Ace doesn’t want to do that to him. On the other hand, because you are so entwined in his life, will he even be able to hold himself back?

You just got into his life and he already likes having you around so he wouldn’t want to spoil that either. Friends is probably all it could be – friends who find each other hot, sure, but friends nonetheless. But why doesn’t that sit right with him?

~~~~~~

Not long after you leave, while he’s picking up (mostly after Luffy), Ace hears keys in the door. Sabo’s home. Honestly he didn’t even realize he was gone. 

“Where were you?” Ace asks his brother as he enters their shared apartment. In all honesty his brother’s unusual absence slipped his mind.

“How was your day?” Sabo questions, ignoring him entirely. Ace does not like the way he said that, like he knows something. Nevermind that he rarely asks that in the first place.

“You first,” Ace stands his ground. 

Sabo sighs but gives in, “I got dinner with Luffy then we went to his place.” Knowing he was with Luffy, Ace suddenly understands his tone earlier. There is no way that Luffy didn’t tell him about your presence, the kid isn’t exactly known for keeping his mouth shut. He now knows exactly where this conversation is headed and that there is no escaping it. Ace sighs in defeat, bracing himself for the interrogation. 

“You like her, don’t you?” Sabo smiles, no longer under the pretense of asking about his day. Ace, annoyingly, has to hold back a blush, he just hopes the tips of his ears aren’t betraying him by turning red. 

“I mean, kinda. She’s a friend, y’know,” Ace tries, really just wanting to get out of this. Sabo levels Ace a look, clearly not buying it. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he caves.

“You know you can’t lie to me, why are you trying,” Sabo says. 

“I’m not, she’s just a friend,” Ace insists, he knows full well that he is, he just wishes that it was the truth and that these weird feelings he’s having would go away. At least that would make things a hell of a lot easier. Going for you is a bad idea and he knows it. He just wishes he wasn’t looking for/craving trouble.

Sensing that Sabo didn’t believe him, he gives in, “Fine, I think I like her, I don’t know. It’s weird plus it’s a bad idea. Also no way she goes for me, but still.” Unspeaking, Sabo prompts Ace to continue. Annoyingly, he realizes that talking this through is probably going to help. Ace makes his way to the small dining table they have in the living room with a heavy sigh. When he looks back at his brother, he looks more vulnerable. 

“I fucking told her about my dad, Sabo” Ace confesses, hands running through his hair. Sabo’s eyes widen in surprise, it looks like it’s even more than he (and Koala, his long term girlfriend, who knows all about this) thought. The blond takes the seat next to him waiting for him to continue. Ace is fiddling with his hands. 

“I’m not even sure why I told her,” Ace starts, fiddling with his hands. “She didn’t even care, no comments, no questions, no nothing,” Ace looks Sabo in the eyes, conveying things that he doesn’t even understand yet. Sabo is well aware of how Ace has been treated due to his biological father, he has witnessed it first hand, right away he knows how big of a deal this is to him.

Ace’s tone and body language shift away from the earlier vulnerability, “But nothing’s gonna happen. It’s all platonic. She’s just really easy to talk to.” He isn’t sure who he is trying to convince, Sabo or himself.

Understanding that he wants to drop the dad topic (even if they’re brothers it isn’t something he loves to talk about) Sabo grows mischievous. “And hot too, right?” he teases.

Ace’s head snaps to him, freaked out that he can tell that. How does he know that? The question is implied. Sabo laughs, accomplishing his goal with Ace’s deer in the headlights look, he’d love to leave it there but he chooses to explain further, “After the party, when you got home, you would not shut up about her. Your ass was hovering over the toilet talking about the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen. I should’ve recorded it, it was embarrassing.”

“Bastard,” Ace scoffs, but his face is inflamed.

“It got pretty graphic too,” Sabo goes on, completely ignoring Ace’s comment in favor of imitating some of the things that he said until Ace’s face was bright red. 

“Shut up!” Ace protests, he is so glad you’re not here to see this, but Sabo continues mocking him.

“I almost left you alone to choke and die,” Sabo laughs, right now Ace is kinda wishing he did.

A notification from Ace’s phone pulls him from the conversation (thankfully). It’s a text from you. Sabo also knows it’s a text from you, he can tell by the way Ace is looking at his phone. This is just proving his point, the one he danced around because, knowing his brother, leading him to a conclusion works so much better than telling him point blank.

There’s not anything more he can do so Sabo leaves for his room. Oh wait, he learned something. “Hey Ace,” Sabo calls out from behind the cover of his door (just in case), successfully getting his attention. “She’s single by the way,” he continues wiggling his brows. 

“Shut up,” the protest from Ace is weak, his attention clearly back on whatever you were saying. 

this one got messed up, pretend those heart hands are at the bottom

BONUS:

they both wingmaning ace independently tbh

we were so close to escaping the y/n curse but then the texts came and i couldn’t figure a way out of it

a/n: so about the bottle opener thing…. i can explain… arms 🤤 ngl i forgot i put that in there until i was "proofreading"

in my headcanon the video game was super smash bros (v silly of me to have a hc about something i wrote)

btw someone needs to stop me there is a slim (large) chance that im gonna make reader have a drunk tattoo (nothing bad probably like doodlebob or a random shape) jus for a joke that isn't really funny

i literally i too much to say i'm making a whole debrief for this 😭

thank you for reading ily 💕

pls like & comment! let me know your thoughts | © stuckinmymind22 | dividers by @enchanthings

[queenlua]

post-Dirge of Ruin wip excerpt thingy maybe

The fury is still in Reyson, a roiling boil.  If he opens his mouth it will spill out of him, forest's whisper or no.  So he keeps it clenched shut.  Takes one shaky step back from that altar.

And then the beorcs' fighting is ended.  And then Leanne is there.  Improbably, indisputably there, standing beside him, flesh and feather.  And then there is an empress—no, a girl, not yet full-fledged—at his feet, prostrate, trembling where she lie.  He can see the whiteness on the back of her neck, where her hair falls away on either side.  White with the same faint eggshell-colored tint that his sister Lillia's feathers always had.

He blinks, and the forest greens with memory around him.  A memory so potent it is felt rather than remembered, a feeling that Reyson is finding more rare and thus more precious all the time—he blinks, and the air smells of pine and soil after an early-winter rain, there is the scattered languorous patter of bits of snowmelt dripping from pine needles.  All as it was when the forest was whole, and when he was whole, and very young, too—

And he's amazed to realize he is standing where his father once stood.

He blinks his eyes clear, and the fever is broken.  The fever is broken and now he is sweating.  Has been sweating this whole while, though he only feels it now, his thin linen robes soaked through and sticky against his skin.  He pulls his hair from his face; it's oily and damp as he tucks it behind his ears.  He's struck by the sudden dumb certainty that his hair, his face, his clothes, must all be a horror, a poor credit to his line, even putting aside how he nearly ended that line right here—

He leans on Leanne, then, gripping her shoulder tight, and wills all his force into it, so that his shivering does not show.  So that he can lean on her to stay upright.

(She glances at him once over her shoulder, doe-eyed, uncomplaining.  Then looks forward with what he imagines must be something like determination, from how she squares her shoulders.)

"You cannot ask me to forgive them," he tells Leanne, as Leanne pleads the empress's case, but there's no heat in his words.  He already knows that he will.  Knows that he must.  Because of the paleness of that girl's neck.  Because of the scent of pines.  Because of the wind through those pines like a whisper.

When he and Leanne sing, it is not them doing the work.  It is the forest, through them.  He only parts his lips and the magic wells up in him like a fountain.

By evening, he's fully come down from his fever, his fury, but he's still shivering.  He stares at the newly-green trees and hears the newly-babbling brook and thinks, I would've undone this.  Looks over at the branch where Leanne is roosting and thinks over how he would've undone her, maybe, along with it.  If the Dirge had that power.  If it had followed his will.  Because in that moment—yes.  He would have willed it.

But he's fine, now, fine.  So absolutely fine.  Sees his past self as a feverdream, and just like a dream he can hardly remember what it even was, what he was, in that moment, even though it's only been a few hours—he strains and struggles to cling to bits of it, but they dissolve like snow in water as soon as he grasps them.

Because he's fine now.  Fine.  So fine that he'll prove it.

The next morning he tells Tibarn, not ten minutes into their journey home, turn back, there's something I need to do, and Tibarn raises a brow—but, to Reyson's surprise, he doesn't argue overmuch.  You know it'll be beorc you're helping, yes? Tibarn says, with an amused tilt of his chin.  And then, after Reyson insists: If you're sure.

And why shouldn't he be sure?  He's fine.  So fine that he can stand among this band of beorc—the whole mixed mass of them, eying him every which way, rippling with unease and curiosity and a dozen emotions more, with their general's untroubled blue gaze the only steady thing among them—Reyson stands among them, and is at ease.

(He's sweating again.  Not from fury.  From something else.)

But he's fine, now, just fine.  Because these are fine people, he can tell, from the warmth of their hearts.  He can feel that in them, when he's clearminded, when he's level, when he can smell the rain in the pines.  And he cannot afford to be otherwise, now.  There is a debt owed, a courtesy to be repaid, a service he must render—

—and also there is that green fire inside him, cooled and coiled tight into something snakelike, dormant but still pulsing—

—but that was then and this is now and Reyson is fine.  Fine fine fine.

[starmocha]

Babe, do you want me to wear your coat??? 😭