#but i still appreciate all of your works & think of them fondly often <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[datastate]

thank you scalpho for tagging me in wip wednesday!! apologies it took so long, but i appreciate it very much 🫶 i also have no idea how to do these bwehaha

here is a sneak preview of the "deliver us from evil" prologue!

The sunrise is beautiful. Somber darkness bleeds through to reveal a mellow orange in the skies above. The frosted mountains peer down upon the sleeping city nestled in its valley. Its presence blends this newfound light with a gentle blue hue, finally bringing life to these muted layers of snow. How peaceful it seems. Each role is fulfilled with such grace, nearly untouched by human turmoil. The morning wind bites. Its teeth fiercely graze Kai’s cheeks. Every inhale aggravates his scarred throat, still sorely scraping against his lungs after sprinting to the Chidouin residence. Tending to the family within had allowed him a brief reprieve, but standing in the crisp air again lights the tender wicks aflame. Once the door behind him opens, a familiar stride hits the wooden patio and echoes through the hollow floor beneath—for as deliberate as it appears, Kai notes a slight weight upon the right leg. A hand suddenly meets his shoulder, and only then does he glance beside himself. Master Chidouin settles at his left side, finally resting his briefcase before the stairs. With his hand free, Hikari pulls out a cigarette pack and takes one for himself, offering another for his assistant. Shaking his head, Kai instead asks: “Is Atsuko ready?” “Just about,” and the words scarcely leave his lips when he ignites the lighter. “She’ll be alright,” Kai promises, tentatively raising his hand to rest upon his elder’s—firmly clasped upon his shoulder, as though he fears to lose his support. Ever slightly, Kai inclines his head Hikari’s direction. “In a half hour alone, she has regained her strength.” Hikari exhales, letting the smoke trail off in a bitter whisper. The acrid taste stings Kai’s tongue, though he quickly suppresses the rising cough. It disperses into the cold dawn, its source clear as the day to come: this is the second seizure Atsuko has had within four days, meaning they cannot hold off on their intended appointment with Asunaro any longer. It is only natural for Hikari to rely on this habit more than before, even if it betrays the unspoken worry eating away at him. The sight is a painful one, knowing aloud the most he’ll ever allow is: “I know.” Though the phrase exists as an effort to reassure, those few words plant an inexorable dread in Kai’s chest. Even so, when Hikari lets go of his hand to bring him into a half-hug, Kai finds it difficult to cling to anything but the warmth of his embrace. “Asunaro’s got it handled.” As if an ember has broken from his hearth, it burns upon Kai’s chest with abrupt guilt. His fists curl around the railing.

i am evidently extremely normal about their interactions few and far between. one of the only chapters that hikari is still alive...

in any case! i'm tagging (no pressure) @its-captain-sir , @dyke-mecha , @corvidcrowned , @starrycluster , @logicroute , @room-of-lies , @strawberryjamsara , @riggedbones , @azurehaiku , @aforgottenballad , and @aueua if you'd like to! along with anyone else who wants to do this <3 (it'd probably be best to make your own post though, so this doesn't get too long :D)

[katsu28]

Hi babes! I think you’re a fantastic writer and that we all really appreciate the writing you do!

I was wondering if I could get “being carried/tucked into bed after staying up waiting for their partner to come home” with a female reader for Jamie!

If you don’t want to, that’s totally okay as well! Thank you for you’re work! You’re amazing

thank you!! u are too kind, i appreciate you <3

jamie tartt x fem!reader, 1k

You felt like you hadn’t seen Jamie in ages. There was a good effort on both your parts to make time for each other and your relationship, but with both early morning and late night training sessions for the upcoming Premier League Cup on his end, your time together had been quickly growing more sparse. 

Countless date nights had been canceled, and you used to be able to pop over to Nelson Road with some takeaway for a quick lunch in the stands with him, but with your workplace becoming horribly understaffed lately, lunches had been set on the backburner too. 

More often than not, the most time you had with each other was in bed, but that was mostly spent getting some much needed sleep. He was always exhausted, you were always exhausted—it was a never ending cycle. Sometimes you’d vaguely sense him slip under the covers beside you with a kiss pressed to whichever part of your body was closest to him, but you were usually asleep by the time he got home. 

Tonight, however, you were determined to stay awake until he came home. You settled yourself in front of the television with the latest season of the show you were currently binging, clutching a cup of steaming tea between your hands to keep you awake. 

Your exhaustion from the workday quickly proved too much to bear, because as soon as you settled your head on your arm, you could feel your eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Soon enough, you’d fallen asleep. 

-------

Jamie let himself in as quietly as he could, being careful not to let the door slam behind him. You were probably long gone by now, that’s how late it was. 

He hated that he was getting home around this time almost everyday now, but he kept telling himself it was only for another few weeks. Just a few more weeks and then he’d be home at a normal time and you’d get to spend your evenings together again. He’d already started planning some of them out as a motivation. 

Toeing off his trainers by the coat rack, Jamie was prepared to make a mad dash down the hall in order to miss that one pesky creaky floorboard, but then he turned around. 

He clocked in on the soft noise coming from the telly first, the show he knew for a fact you’d been meaning to catch up on nothing but background noise when he spotted you a split second later. 

You were curled up on the sofa, fast asleep, cheek pressed into the sleeve of his jumper. An empty mug hung from your fingertips, threatening to fall until Jamie scooped it up and put it on the end table next to you. He knelt by your head, taking his time to admire your peaceful face before giving your arm a gentle rub. 

“Hey,” He murmured. You stirred a little bit, but didn’t open your eyes. He prodded at your shoulder this time, a little more insistent this time. “Babe, wake up.”  

You blinked awake slowly, stifling a yawn behind your hand. Once your eyes adjusted to the light and you saw Jamie crouched in front of you, you knew your attempt in staying awake until he got home had been futile. 

“Hi.” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes furiously. His lips quirked up into part of a grin. “I meant to stay up til you got home. Guess it didn’t work out too well.” 

“It’s late," Jamie said quietly, running his thumb over the apple of your cheek fondly. “You didn’t have to wait up for me, love.” 

“I wanted to.” 

“But it’s late.” You knew he wasn’t saying it with anything other than your wellbeing in mind, but you still frowned, pushing yourself up on one elbow. 

“I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages.” 

Jamie’s expression crumpled. He dragged a hand through his hair, bunching the strands at the top of his head before letting them flop back into place. “I know. I know, love, and ‘m sorry. It’s just been mad stressful with everything goin’ on, but I promise soon I’ll be home a lot more and a lot earlier. Just a few more weeks, that’s it.” 

“Oh no, Jaim, I'm not blaming you at all.” Scrambling to a sitting position, you took both of his hands in yours gently. You ducked down to meet his defeated gaze, pressing a kiss to his forehead and bumping his chin with your knuckles to get him to look back up at you. When he did, he looked downright exhausted but offered you a tiny smile anyways. “We’ve both been busy. I just thought it’d be nice to get some actual time together before bed.” 

“You’re the best,” He sighed, letting himself fall forwards until his upper half on your lap, face buried in the blanket covering you. “I’m so tired.” 

“Double training sessions will do that to you.” 

“Try triple. Roy’s a madman—I think he’s trying to kill me!” 

“By whipping you into better shape than you’ve ever been before?” You teased, stroking a hand down his back. “If anything, he’s trying to kill me by making you look like you do.” 

“You think I look good?” 

“I always think you look good, babe.” You assured him, giving him a firm pat on the bum.

He perked up rather proudly at the compliment and action. “Good enough to take to bed?”

“To sleep? Never thought you’d ask.” 

“Alright, c’mon you sleepyhead,” Jamie sighed faux-dramatically, clambering to his feet. He hefted you into his arms with ease and you snuggled a bit deeper against his chest, pressing your nose into his neck with a content sigh. He’d showered at the facility, you could tell by the smell of his conditioner invading your senses. “You sniffin’ me, you weirdo?” 

“You wish.” 

Jamie dropped you onto the bed once he was within tossing distance but tucked you in, bringing the covers up under your chin in such a manner that contradicted the playful roughness of his other actions. “Don’t you dare fall asleep on me yet. Ten minutes and I’m yours for the night, yeah?” 

“Better get a move on then, shouldn’t you? I’m so sleepy, I could just crash…right—”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare. I’m goin’ as fast as I can, love, I can barely feel me legs right now!”

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[kaarijatits]

about reblogs... first of all I absolutely love your's and everyone else art or anything they create and share and I'm super thankful for having a chance to see it 💚

one - what other's have mentioned before is general social media usage where 'like' is the primary reaction.

two - is a bit personal... it's how I feel and maybe I'm the only one, but for me it's that I'm terribly afraid of being perceived (that's why I'm on anon :'l ). Kä's community seems like a very tight and very talented group of friends mainly having conversations in the tags, and I often feel like if I don't have anything neat to say - then I'm just barging into a friends group uninvited.. even if I know it's completely unreasonable and not true. It's very hard to shake off the feeling that if I reblog too much, OP will look at me and think "ahhh this weirdo again". So I'd use likes instead, because mostly no one notices who gives likes so it's much easier, but then it seems everyone hates likes so I stopped leaving them too (´･･`)

what I wanted to say maybe for some people it's not that they don't appreciate the art and the effort, but more internal lurker struggles that make it very hard to react appropriately?.. (I'm trying to work on that)

hi anon, thanks for sharing your thoughts with me <3 makes me so happy to know you enjoy my art <3<3

i made that post because i'm just a small blog, so i get it, but then i saw art from -in my opinion- popular artists with several notes that are mostly likes, i thought it was just the kä fandom. I come from a huge fandom where 1k notes post are very common, and today i checked again and the proportion of rb and likes are similar (or worst? 200 rb and 800 likes 🥴), so... it’s just how tumblr works i guess

However, on tumblr what keeps a post alive are reblogs, but it’s fine if you don’t like something or just ignore it, we can’t expect to everyone to love what we do, but sometimes (more than i'd like to admit) i think “maybe is not good enough”. Personally, when people share their thoughts in the tags, it makes me so happy (I always read what people say on my art, it’s one of my favorite things to do, but i rarely respond because i don’t want to be annoying 💀...)

Being afraid of being perceived is something i can relate to, sometimes it feels like everyone here are friends but you... but tumblr is make for reblogs and silly tags, you can talk whatever, interactions are completely fine, rarely I've seen people getting mad because reblogs 🤔

If you reblog a lot from me, definitely i won’t think your weird, of course i’ll notice you but i'll think fondly of you 💕 because you enjoyed something i made, and sometimes when people say that my art cheer them up a little, it's one of the best feelings...

and well don’t worry too much about it, if you don’t want to say anything in the tags is okay you still can reblog, with a little heart or emoji or simple nothing <3 and if you don't want to reblog at all is valid... first of all, take care of yourself and what is more comfortable for you <3

[desafinado]

Hello, and congratulations on a new milestone! I haven't been following for all that long, but I'm excited to see where you go from here <3

(also good luck with college I just started a new semester myself haha)

I was hoping to enter the genshin matchup event, and get some headcanons as well. I'd prefer a male, but otherwise it's all good! I don't have that much I really want from a partner, but I would like to be able to have both fun and silly times, and times where we can simply exist quietly in each other's presence. I like to sing, but I can't dance so maybe that would be fun to do with them. I do like physical touch (to a reasonable amount), so I'd prefer my partner to as well. Other than that, I really just want to be loving, comfortable and honest - the kind of relationship where you can be open and still be loved, and you both can grow together.

I'm about 5'2, and have wavy blonde hair that is almost always tied back in a ponytail. I wear glasses, and have a very dark/light academia-esque style. I'm quiet, but not shy - I just dislike being overly social, but I do have a few extremely close friends. People trust me very quickly, and I take on the role of the therapist friend - but otherwise I'm fairly chill, which the occasional exception of getting energetic and 'full of beans' as my family says. I am also the kind of person that's almost constantly sleepy and could always take a nap.

I love to make little stuffed animals for my friends and family, and I've been making little dioramas as gifts as well. The only TV I can watch are horror movies, and I almost constantly have music playing - I'm one of those people who listen to everything, but I actually mean it (I have 380 liked songs on Spotify). I'm majoring in philosophy, so I am very good at thinking about too many things too often lol.

Thank you for making it through all that, and I hope you have a delightful day! Drink enough liquids and eat your favorite snack, and get some good rest tonight <3

diluc ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ﾟ ♡ ﾟ｡

you both enjoyed one another’s presence, whether a word was said or not, there was just always an air of comfortability between the both of you.

horror movie nights where he holds you just a bit too tight, will initially deny that he was scared, but will eventually give in and bury his face into your shoulder.

in return, you often find yourself falling asleep on his lap as he’s doing work; he always smiles fondly at you and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

you introducing him to making dioramas, he actually found it quite soothing and a nice break from his otherwise fast paced life.

gifting him a little stuffed eagle and him just being in awe, mostly because you made such a thing for him it just his heart.

“really, for me?” “yes! unless, you think he deserves another home…” “n-no! i was just… i love you.”

lazy days where you just stay in, being almost sickeningly clingy towards each other (/pos) and just spending the whole day being absolutely lovesick towards one another. 

softly complimenting each other’s small facial features, mindlessly playing with each other’s hair, bubble baths.

he can always count on you to share his feelings, woes, and whatever else. he appreciates your insights very much, and takes any advice you give very seriously. 

he absolutely trusts you with his life, and is willing to drop everything just to spend his days with you, living away from all the chaos of the world.

50 followers celebration rules here !!

note: thanks for stopping by, i hope you do stick around ^^ also wahh philosophy sounds fun, im writing this in between my first day classes actly lol but yes, hope you enjoy!!

[abybweisse]

Hello! I would love to hear your take on a theory I’ve heard, maybe you’ve already done something about it but —

The theory that the phantomhives are actually of Irish/Scottish/Celtic decent and that’s part of the reason Victoria (supposedly) wiped them out. Also kind of explains the “Windsor incident” and the “sour faces” of relatives at the mention of the twins names (I realize Ciel is French—I believe? But still!)

I just wanna sing ancient Celtic tunes to OCiel 😭 hits home for me because my lineage is extremely Irish and German, and I know how horribly they treated anyone Irish or Scottish at that time, even in America. So sad to think this might be the case, albeit with a supernatural twist

Celtic roots?

There has been discussion of that possibility within the fandom, and I've had a few posts and reblogs that talk about it.

For one thing, some in the fandom think our earl (who only pretends to be Ciel) might have named Finny after himself. A specific book has been shown on two separate occasions in the manga: Fenian Cycle: Celtic Mythology.

In ch100, it's shown several times, as our earl explains to Finny why he's chosen that name for him.

And it's shown again on the cover of ch132.

Now, our earl selects the name for Finny because of his blond hair and his strength. And years later, when our earl joins the circus, he calls himself Finnian. Some people think this is a clue that it's his real given name, and perhaps he has never liked it because it doesn't fit: he doesn't have blond hair, and he's not all that physically fast, strong, or healthy. Canonically, Rachel is the one to name the boys, and I personally cannot see her choosing a name like that for our earl. He didn't show signs of asthma until he was 5 or so, but he obviously doesn't have blond hair, and I expect Rachel to choose a more fitting name for him. Preferably one that works well with "Ciel" (like Claus and Lucas, mirror twin brothers in Mother3, having anagram names). That's one of the reasons why I like the name Elic. (I also like that it means "protection", much like Alex.) However, the idea that our earl is really Finnian (or some spelling variant) persists within the fandom.

I think it's more likely that our earl just fondly remembers Vincent reading the book to him, but it's interesting that the book is shown again on a cover page, with Vincent reading to the boys, and the tag line is "Gazing at the promised future". The chapter includes Vincent showing the boys around the estate and their earldom, but that cover also happens to show the boys "gazing" at the book. This could be a hint that the family is indeed of Celtic origins, or at least partly, despite the fact the image looks more like "gazing at the fabled past".

Then Yana-san revealed the cover art for Artworks 3, and wow. That's a lot of tartans and thistles. She mixes so many different tartan patterns that we cannot really say the family must be from one particular clan or another. But it's really interesting for her to choose all these tartans and pair them with a bunch of thistle, Scotland's national flower. There are even thistles on his boots.

Here and here are a couple old posts about it, including the symbolic meaning of thistles (includes some Japanese flower language meanings, too). Notice thistles are often associated with "protection". (Makes me like the name Elic even more.)

If the twins have some Celtic roots, it might not actually be on the Phantomhive side so much as Rachel's side. Her sister and father have that red hair, after all, and so-called "Gingers" have suffered discrimination for a very long time, particularly in England. Vincent might have wanted to teach his boys to appreciate and take pride in their partly Celtic heritage.

If Rachel has a strong Celtic background, then Vincent's choice to marry her might have ruffled some feathers. Perhaps family and people in the peerage didn't think it was a good idea; maybe this made Queen Victoria angry. Keeping all this in mind (and making a point of it), the decidedly strong-willed Rachel might have selected names that reflect each side of the family. Something French for the firstborn... and something Celtic for the unexpected twin? (Idk exactly where Elic comes from, but it looks/sounds Celtic, doesn't it? Oh, hey. Look. CELTIC. 😆)

Every time I look up "Elic name meaning" online, I get different results for both the meaning and origin, but when I looked a moment ago, this was from one of the top websites (Names.com):

Another website says it's Greek in origin and means "defender of mankind", a variation of Alec. Older website entries used to give a similar meaning (protection/protector of man) but claim it's Hungarian or something. So, nothing conclusive, of course, but gosh I hope our earl ends up being Elic. I really do. It's one of the major Mother3 predictions, so of course I'm fond of it. 😅

Speaking of lineage, mine is English, German, Irish, Scottish, French, and Dutch. My first name, Arran, is after the Isle of Arran (Scottish). My last name, Walker, is supposedly from the MacGregor clan, while my Allison ancestors (married into the Walkers about six generations ago) came from the MacAlister clan, straight from Somerled himself! Then again, being a descendent of Somerled is somewhat common. Roughly 500,000 people today are. Only Genghis Khan is documented as having more -- about 16 million. Big oof 😅.

BONUS:

Another person to mix with the Phantomhives could prove to be of Celtic decent.

[grapementos]

into the fray

a/n: the long awaited part 3! read parts one and two first!

gn y/n x kirishima

wc: 2.2k

warnings: fighting, crying, blood, gore, mentions of hospitals, surgery, and injuries.

three weeks turned into three years at a pace you could only describe as excruciating. contrary to popular speculation, time did not heal all—if the throb in your chest each time you saw a red riot news report was anything to go by.

you dated once within that span of time, but it didn’t take long to realize you were both there for the wrong reason. they saw another face when they looked at you and, admittedly, you did too. it was a short and rebound-ish relationship that lasted less than a month, but you parted on good terms and stayed in contact with each other.

afterwards, you didn’t bother searching for love. any ‘love’ you found would dull in comparison to what you and kirishima shared. it was a realization that hit you after the first year of living alone in your new apartment.

you hated it. the silence.

you hated the lack of weight pressing up against your back as you made dinner or washed dishes. you hated that you still made enough food for two people, only to scoop it into the trash can at the end of the day. you hated the lack of hair dye stains on your bathroom sink and the way your bathtub floor was a clean white instead of a very light, worn red.

above all, you hated waking up and falling asleep alone.

and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret your decision. seeing kirishima pursuing his passion without bounds made pride swell in your chest, despite how much the necessary sacrifice hurt.

you knew kirishima hurt, too, for he truly loved you. you didn’t often doubt his love, simply because he couldn’t lie—not to you, at least. he was always profoundly interested in anything behind you when he lied, not to mention the hands that couldn’t seem to stay away from his hair.

however, it was true that kirishima had a lot of love to give. he was practically overflowing with love. he always ended phone calls with a ‘love you’, no matter who was on the line. it amazed you, really. how kirishima could be so good.

but your love was different. your love was sealed with whispered sweet nothings and so, so many kisses. it was a fun type of love that made him feel like your best friend, but with the same passion and perks as lovers. it was comfortable and reassuring and fulfilling.

in fact, you had only doubted his love once, early in your relationship. the two of you had been cozied up on the balcony, tea long forgotten on top of the railing. the stars were out and you sat in an uncharacteristic silence, which kirishima noticed immediately and confronted you (read: tickled the truth out of you.)

“why me, ei? why not another hero? i just can’t help but think that, because we were friends first, you feel like you don’t have.. i don’t know, options?”

kirishima had laughed, in true kirishima nature, and then he looked at you like you were his world.

“cause I'm in love with you, duh.”

he'd said the words so easily, like they were so irrefutably true.

as if sensing the doubt in your dumbfounded expression, he’d jumped to his feet, grabbed both cups from the balcony, and raised them up, making a toast to the world.

“ei-”

he’d gulped in a lung full of air, paused, and then yelled,

“i'm in love with y/n!”

needless to say, he’d assuaged your doubts and received a noise complaint the very next day.

you smiled fondly at the memory, drifting back down to earth as you crossed the crosswalk. walking to work was a good idea, you concluded as you began your journey home. it was nice to feel the warmth of the sun (outside of your balcony) every once in a while.

for the first time in a while, you were completely content. you took the scenic route home, taking time to just breathe. had fresh air ever felt so good? it was only then that you realized you’d learned to appreciate the little things since losing the one big thing in your life.

as you were appreciating the flow of the city, losing yourself in the image of the skyline, you hadn’t realized that everything had gone completely silent. there was no more honking or people talking obnoxiously loud on the phone—even the birds had stopped chirping. it was pin-drop silent.

until it wasn’t.

it was but a moment before the wind was howling, shrieking so loudly in your ears that you were convinced your eardrums were going to burst. the ground beneath your feet was rumbling, urging you to run. but where? home? where was the danger even coming from?

pressing your palms tightly over your ears, you decided to run against the whirling wind until you found somewhere safe to hide. the sidewalks were swarmed in an instant, people rushing out of their cars that were being tossed around like toys.

there was pushing, shoving, people were tripping and being trampled on—the screams, oh god. you'd never forget the screams.

finally, it seemed like the crowd was gaining some direction after being guided away by some pro heroes that showed up on the scene. you followed the crowd, careful to watch your step as more and more people seemed to stumble.

everyone filtered behind the barriers set up by the heroes, being urged to get to safety as soon as possible. most did; they kept running, not looking back for a second. others stayed and pulled out their phones in complete awe.

as luck would have it, you were the last one in the crowd to reach the barrier. you were one step away from safety, one step closer to your apartment, but the cry of a little girl behind you made your adrenaline increase tenfold.

a quick glance at the preoccupied heroes was all it took for your body to move before your mind, nearly tripping as the earth below you continued to rumble. conveniently, she was less than 25 meters away and didn’t hesitate to grab onto the hand you reached out to her. she was small enough to carry without weighing you down, so you scooped her up into your arms and booked it back towards the designated safe zone.

you stumbled as the ground gave a particularly powerful jolt and, before you knew it, the cement below you was splitting—farther apart than you could ever hope to jump. out of options, you motioned wildly to one of the heroes, thankfully catching their attention.

they made the leap easily, seemingly supported by engines in their legs. you didn’t have time to gawk at such an interesting quirk.

instead, you shoved the girl towards them, “here, I don’t think she’s hurt. she’s not mine, so i really hope her parents are on the other side.” your words were nearly jumbled as you tried to get the information out, still thrumming with immense amounts of nervous energy.

“okay, i can carry you both back to the other side. come on.” they offered their hand out to you urgently, which you didn’t hesitate to grab.

the moment was short-lived, for a car came barreling towards the three of you, causing you to stumble back, narrowly avoiding a terrible fate. sat on the floor, your chest heaved, eyes widening at the position you were in.

‘what am i doing acting like some sort of hero?’

every part of you was trembling, and suddenly everything was so loud. had you hit your head? why couldn’t you see straight?

distantly, you could hear someone shouting, though you weren't sure if it was directed at you. you stood carefully, trying to get a firm grasp on your surroundings. how did you end up here, in the middle of a villain attack? your day had been going so well, too.

legs shaking, you found the wall of a building to support you, lifting a hand to try and catch the attention of a hero nearby. you willed yourself to breathe, adrenaline starting to leave you limp and exhausted.

“y/n!”

you turned at the sound of your name, hope blooming in your chest. maybe you weren’t going to die here. maybe you were going to be able to see kirishima one more time and tell him that, in what might’ve been your last hours, the only thing on your mind was him. in fact, he was all you could think about, and you cursed him and his heroic influence for your current state. you were about to call back, about to yell for help, something.

everything happened so fast. too fast.

the moment you turned around, there was a chest pressed up in your face, arms caging you against the wall.

frozen, you just breathed for a moment, chest heaving as you tried to process what just happened for the second time.

you didn’t want to look up. you didn’t want to.

you already knew who it was.

the garnet gear-shaped shoulder pads were moving up and down quickly, matching the rapid pace of kirishima’s breath.

your moment of relief was brief. it was so unbearably short that it might not have even existed at all.

something was wrong.

you didn’t have to look down; the drip was enough to let you know.

“ei,” you whispered out, mustering up the courage to lift your gaze, “ei, what did you do?”

it was ugly. it was an ugly spike-shaped mold of the elements.

and it was going straight through kirishima’s shoulder.

finally able to think clearly, you realized there was no room for hesitation anymore. you screamed for help until your throat was raw, trying to stay still and be heard over the chaos that you’d forgotten about.

“ei, don’t move. don’t move, okay? help is gonna come, okay?” your hands hovered over his cheeks, fingers trembling worse than they had when you thought you’d met your end. you were crying, choking out desperate sobs at how useless you were.

“y/n, it’s okay.” he grunted out, “hey, look at me. look at me, please.” his eyes were hazy with pain, adrenaline having clearly wore off.

you met his eyes. his kind, beautiful eyes you could spend hours gazing into. this time, they were full of tears of physical pain, a look you’d never seen on him.

kirishima cried quite often. he cried when you accepted his confession, he cried of laughter too many times to count, he cried the night you left him—but none of that was like this. this was a different kind of cry.

a cry like he was in so much pain, but there was still happiness swelling in his heart.

“no, no, ei. don't look at me like that.” you shook your head, finally getting the courage to hold his face in your hands. god, how you missed the feeling. “quit looking at me like that. the ambulance is coming.”

“y/n, please just listen.” he begged, brows raising and eyes crinkling at the corners. his lips were downturned, a look that you decided didn’t suit him.

so you just took a deep breath and nodded, pursing your lips tightly.

“i love you,”

no, you couldn’t take it. not now. this sounded dangerously close to a goodbye, and you couldn’t handle it.

you shook your head, “stop. please.”

“i love you.” he kept going, raising his voice to talk over you, “i love you, i love you, i love you.”

you leaned your forehead on his chest in frustration, shoulders shaking with your sobs, “why, ei,” you mumbled, “why didn’t you harden? why?”

“i couldn’t risk cutting you.” he rested his lips on the top of your head, “dont run away from me again, y/n. not this time. i‘m not going to let you.”

you found yourself nodding.

“okay, ejirou. okay.”

---

BONUS:

kirishima’s injuries were quite severe. he’d shattered his humerus in his right arm, tearing his rotator cuff in the process. that meant he’d need plenty of physical therapy after his surgery.

you, of course, were with him every step of the way. you’d only sustained minor injuries from the attack, thanks to kirishima. the hospital stay wasn’t too lengthy, but he was sent back in a sling and cast.

returning to the apartment you shared was surreal. it spurred on yet another crying session and a ‘you think we’d’ve run out of tears by now’ from kirishima, earing a wet laugh from the both of you.

you’d hugged him—his left side, at least— for what felt like hours. the two of you stood in the living room, just wrapped in each other’s embrace. you were home, finally. a home that felt like home.

three months went by, your routine returning and comfort growing with each day that passed. kirishima was a little less able to help out around the house due to his arm, but he was always home. hero work was completely off the table, much to his dismay.

you couldn’t feel too awful about it, especially when the two of you were dancing around the kitchen, or cuddled up watching tv on the couch, or when you were helping him dye his roots that were growing out. the best times, however, were at night, when you’d both wound down and felt more honestly and had just a little more confidence.

nights like these.

drawing patterns on his bare chest, you laid contentedly beside him in the darkness of your shared bedroom.

“hey, y/n?”

“yeah, ei?”

“i really, really want to marry you.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle, a warmth spreading like a spiderweb across your chest, “i really, really want to marry you, too.”

“we should do it.”

“we should.”

the end! if you’ve read this far, thank you for supporting me <3 i hope this makes up for all the angst i put yall through. my requests are open and i will be making a master list/rules list soon. maybe a tag list too! reblogs are appreciated!

tags: @cyberhumanoidbonkthing @power-house-fan12

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Part 3 (Mycroft Holmes x Reader)

AN- Thank you for the patience for this one! My little boy has been unwell so it has taken a little longer than I had hoped but here is the third instalment! It’s a little shorter than the others but that’s because I wanted to contain the angsty part in one chapter, the next ones will hopefully be longer..

This one is a little more angsty, a lot more emotional, but I’m quite happy with the outcome and I hope you are too! As usual, please let me know any thoughts/feedback! And enjoy!

Word Count: 2510

"Is it just me that finds Stephen Fry a bit.. sexy?" You spoke, watching the television as Young Ones' Scumbag College competed on University Challenge. "I don't know what it is about him. He's just.. got such a lovely voice, and he's so sodding clever and his CLOTHES- got much better looking with age, mind." Mycroft only hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"Hmm.. He's not really my type." You laughed and petted his head fondly.

"You don't have to be gay to find another man attractive Myc." You mused. "Me and Greg talk about it all the time, though he fancies Hugh Laurie more, especially in Blackadder." You laughed, thinking back on the memory of Greg's fondness of George in the Blackadder Goes Forth series.

"I'm aware that sexuality and attraction are not the same, Y/N. I am comfortable enough in my own heterosexuality to appreciate another man's features. In fact, I very much agree with Gregory's view on Mr Laurie. Stephen, however, is not my type. The few people that did speak to me in University used to tell me I reminded them of him in the way I behaved but, and I quote, 'without even a lick of his humour, you miserable bastard.' Thus, I cannot look at him in that way." He laughed a little and you cleared your throat.

"Oh.. uh, yeah I guess that makes sense. Not the humour part though, you're actually hilarious and they missed out big time." You tried to avoid the point where you'd deemed Stephen Fry sexy in every way he was similar to the man who was laying in your lap, and just hoped he wouldn't bring that up.

"He definitely got the looks side of things though, particularly as General Melchett in Goes Forth, though I am not particularly fond of the facial hair." He screwed up his nose in distaste, you fighting every ounce of your control to not say he looked a bit cute. "And certainly didn't have the waistline that 21 year old Mycroft had."

"Speaking in the third person now, are we? Well, Mycroft, Y/N is comfortable enough in her friendship that Y/N thinks Mycroft can be sexy in his own ways too." You teased, partly embarrassed, but equally just trying any way to improve the man's confidence, even by a little. Mycroft choked a little on his own saliva and had to sit up to regain his own breath. Too far? "Sorry." He shook his head 'no' but didn't speak. In his moments of regaining his composure, Mycroft watched you. Processed in his head what you had said- 'was it a joke?', he couldn't read anything on you that would suggest that, though his eyes were glassy from the choking- watched as you panicked, then subsiding the panic to concern as you made sure he was okay. All these things, he thought, he didn't deserve. He took a deep breath and reached for the television remote, pausing the show and settling back on the other side of the sofa. It had to be done now. Done while his brain was allowing it, before he got attached... before he got attached even more. He couldn't keep pretending it was okay, keep accepting your compliments and your kindness, couldn't allow himself to go any further in his.. attraction?

It was always unspoken between the two of you- your not so subtle hints to Mycroft over the last few years hadn't got unnoticed, Mycroft would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he felt the same way, though this was perhaps the most open you had been; he would always put it off, try to think of reasons why you shouldn't be more than whatever you are now- most of the time it circles back to work, your busy schedule at the Yard and his unpredictable working hours mostly, saying to himself that it would simply be pointless, that you wouldn't see each other. But he knew that was a lie- you see him as often as you can, even if it's just for an hour on lunch, and everyone knows he would do his best to move empires to have you over for dinner had it been a while, quite literally actually.

Then there was age, you were in your mid-to-late twenties, he in his forties, though that argument also fell flat after you had mentioned your last long term relationship had been with a man your elder, amongst many of your interests in celebrity males that you had mentioned being closer to his age than yours- and, on his behalf, it was usual for a Politician to walk into formal dinners with a younger woman on arm. In the end, it all went back to the real reason Mycroft put everything off, a reason he hated admitting to even himself. Mycroft was scared.

Having been the age he is with no sexual experience, no previous relationships, and not even many friendships, he was terrified he would humiliate himself and you would leave him completely. You were both adults, both clever, you both knew there was always 'something' there, but without you ever acting upon it, Mycroft decided to live his life keeping you as a friend rather than risk not having you at all. He felt guilty enough having you here anyway. He couldn't allow you to keep stroking his hair like that, or letting you sleep in his bed with him, hold him as he snored, when it was for completely other desires in his own mind, not without speaking to you. No, that wouldn't be fair- even if he didn't fully understand everything himself and was still incredibly scared. You needed to know the truth, about everything, and, if there were the slightest chance you'd forgive him, he had decided he couldn't wait any longer, couldn't put it off anymore, he wanted you to carry on doing those things, wanted to continue the nights you would stay in his bed. But Mycroft wanted it to change, he wanted to be able to start the night with a ghost of his hand on your hip, without waiting until you were asleep to bring himself to have that courage, to wake up next to you and not feel the awkward need to move so soon, just to stay a little longer. Christ, Mycroft wanted every cliché in the book with you, and it took him until yesterday to realise how much he wanted that, after nearly losing you. And he needed you to know, even if it risked it all.

"Y/N I-"

"I know, I'm sorry, I took it too far I was just messing about.. Not that I didn't mean it, I wasn't joking about you.. You are very attractive, but it was inappropriate.. I shouldn't have said it.. I just wanted to help.. though I don't think it did, might have made it worse, actually.. Didn't want to say anything and let you find out.. like that.. not that it matters.. because I AM happy JUST being your friend, over the moon, actually.. so I don't want you to think I ruined that... Because I know you don't feel.. like that.. and you're not saying anything which is scaring me a little because you're always talking.. Not that I don't like that.. I love you talking to me, you've got a lovely voice.. and.. and I'm going to shut up again.. sorry.. again.." You rambled, a lot, too much.. far too much. Mycroft tried to process everything, his eyes closing at every word. You were making this so much harder for him, admitting everything like that. Mycroft hunched forward in his position and braced his elbows on his knees, index and middle finger of each hand holding the weight of his head by his temples.

"No just.. Just stop talking for a moment." Mycroft snapped, cutting you off as your mouth opened to speak a little, the small jump back made his gaze soften. "Please." He spoke softer, apologetic. "I can't.. talk about that.. not yet. Not until you know.." You went to speak again but his head tilted, eyes containing a rare glaze of vulnerability, trying to stay in contact with your own but constantly dropping back to his lap- a silent plea to stay quiet, be patient and just give him a moment. And you did. Turning your body completely sideways, you crossed your legs on the sofa, hands resting folded in your lap as you encouraged him to continue with a brief nod of your head. "I fear if I don't tell you of yesterday's happenings in this very moment that I never shall, and that is far too selfish, even of me." He took a deep breath in. "But I just.. need a moment. A few, likely, throughout." You nodded your head again.

From there, Mycroft began to explain everything that had happened, told you of his sister, where she had taken him, Sherlock and John, what she spoke about, what she tried to get them to do. His voice cracked every so often, knuckles whitened as his fists clenches, creases formed in his trousers where he squeezed his hand on them, but you listened to every word and stayed silent- eyes welling with small tears. Mycroft spoke of the screen, told you of the snipers that were out there, targeting Ms Hudson and Molly. Your body stiffened as he added Lestrade to the list, feeling your throat tighten a little at the mere thought of losing Greg. Mycroft pressed on, told you about how Eurus tried to make Sherlock choose between him and John, told you how he'd tried to convince Sherlock to just shoot him, how Sherlock refused and threatened to shoot himself. His voice went breathless at the end of that, the idea of losing his brother so easily still fresh in his mind. You loosened your sitting position and leaned over, taking Mycroft's hand in your own and squeezing. He sighed again and closed his eyes.

"Please, don't." He whispered, trying to fold his hand into a fist to escape your embrace. You didn't let go and offered your other hand on his back in support as you watched a stray tear fall down his cheek. "I said don't!" He shouted, moving from your touch and standing up from the sofa, beginning to pace as his face contorted into more pain, another tear following the path of the last. You sat back, watched him, didn't take the anger to heart. "It was my fault! All of it!" He ran his hands through his hair and tugged, moving them after to wipe the droplets from his cheek.

"Myc it's ok-"

"It isn't okay Y/N! No part of any of this is even remotely close to okay!" He stilled now, posture going back rigid as he looked at you, eyes bloodshot and glassy. He told you of his Birthday present to Eurus- five unsupervised minutes with Moriarty- and started his pacing again. "A man died yesterday because of me. Sherlock, John, Greg, Ms Hudson, Molly. They all almost died yesterday. You almost... you almost died yesterday." His breath hitched again, lip softly quivering at the end of his words. You tensed a little and frowned, confused and urging him to elaborate. "They weren't the only people on the screens, not the only ones with a red dot on their heads, Y/N." Gaze avoiding you now, turned completely to face the wall rather than look at you at all- giving him a chance to compose himself, steadying his voice. "I saw you, you were happy, just dancing and making tea, but at any moment you could have... and it would have been my fault. And I know I should have told you yesterday, it was selfish of me using you the way that I have without letting you know everything. You could have been gone before I could tell you everything, before I could explain how I feel about you, and it all came rushing to me the moment I saw your face on that screen. I’m so sorry, for everything, for ignoring everything, for being the reason you almost-" The last thing Mycroft had expected was the feeling of arms around his waist, the feeling of a head resting between his shoulder blades, soaking the shirt with tears. You sniffed, holding onto him tighter as you cried into his back.

"It's okay Mycroft." You spoke, voice croaking from tears. "They're okay.. I'm okay. And you're going to be okay. I'm not going anywhere." The relief Mycroft felt from your words ran through his body as he slumped a little, left hand holding on to where yours joined on his stomach, his right lifting to his eyes where, in a very rare moment, he allowed himself to weep.

***

Neither of you were too sure on how long you stayed like that, Mycroft being held in your arms as he quietly cried into his hand, you into his back, but it was long enough that your feet were beginning to ache and Mycroft had become silent a short while ago. You attempted to loosen your grip but Mycroft quickly grabbed back at your hands, holding them to him again. You changed your tactic and instead circled round until your hands remained together on his back, you now at his front and you gave him one last squeeze before guiding him backwards to the sofa, taking your place next to him but keeping your arms around him.

"I'm sorry." His voice was broken, quieter than usual. You shook your head and fought the urge to cry again.

"Don't." You spoke, sliding a hand down to hold his own that rested on his thigh. "Don't apologise Myc. You didn't do anything on purpose, you were just trying to be a good person.. a good brother. We're both still alive. Sherlock, John, Greg, Ms Hudson, Molly, they're all fine, and I have no doubt that it was partly due to you that they are still okay- whatever the three of you did in there, it worked, and that's all that matters to me." Mycroft shifted, his eyes finding yours once more, scanning, searching, trying to find anything that showed you were lying, that you didn't trust him anymore, but he couldn't find anything.

"But I-" You placed a hand at the back of his neck and leaned forward slightly, your lips meeting his briefly for a few seconds before pulling back. It wasn't desperate, or longing, or out of lust- it was everything Mycroft needed. Everything that let him know that you weren't going anywhere, that you still wanted to be around him, to be with him. He relaxed but didn't speak, his hand beneath yours just turning to allow your fingers to lace together as he let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. You rested your head against his shoulder, smiling softly as you felt his own rest atop yours before falling into a comfortable silence.

[christ0pher-evans]

Variety’s Actors on Actors

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader  Warnings: Slight Angst / Implied Smut Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This is my first time writing a Chris Evans fanfiction. It it loosely based off of Variety’s Actors on Actors interviews with Chris Evans and Paul Rudd / Chris Evans and Scarlett Johansson. It is pure fluff, hope you guys like it!!! Please reblog and like🖤

 ♡

When Variety had approached you to be involved in the ‘Actors on Actors’ style interviews, you knew that it could be really fun, a great opportunity and you felt immediate excitement for who they might pair you with. 

It was only a day later when they had told you that they wanted you to do the interview with Chris Evans. Normally, any time that you got to spend with Chris, physically or virtually, was fun; however you had no idea how you could possibly interview the man when you knew all there was to know about his life and career, I mean you’d only know him 16 years, and been together for the past 6 years, leading to your past first year of blissful marriage. 

You had spent the last month away from Chris due to the filming of your latest movie, and was missing him so much that your heart hurt. The thought of getting to spend a full 45 minutes doing this interview with him was making you jump for joy, because usually neither of you have enough free time simultaneously to be able to spend this length of time together. It’s often a fleeting text of “I miss you”, or a 5 minute phone call between scenes. 

You had spent the past week since finding out about this interview trying to come up with interesting enough questions that the fans would want answers to. You were also thankful for Variety as they had sent you a pre-made list of questions in case you got stuck.

It was finally an hour before the interview, and you hadn’t seen Chris’ face for the past two weeks so you decided to make a bit of extra effort to look nice for him. 

You were sat in front of your dressing table in your apartment that had be rented out for you whilst you were filming. Make-up was spread all over the table and you could see the reflection, several outfits littered all over your bed where you had yet to make your mind up on what to wear. 

45 minutes later and you had a light brown and glittery smokey eye, a subtle winged liner with a gloss over your lips and had given yourself a bouncy blow-dry. After looking through all your outfits, you had decided on one of Chris’ oversized jumpers that you stole before you left and some jeans - even though you wanted to look really nice for him, you knew how much he would appreciate seeing you in his clothes more. 

You had made yourself a coffee and set yourself up at the breakfast bar for the interview. Checking everything was set up and ready for the interview, you waited patiently with butterflies in your stomach for it to start. You were bought out of your excited daze by the noise of your phone, a message from Chris popped up.. ‘Can’t wait to see your beautiful face’ Boy, did he still make you swoon after so long together. 

Not long had passed before the sound of a video call was coming through on your laptop, and as you answered, a member of the Variety team was on your screen. “Hi Y/N, it’s so lovely to speak to you and thank you so much for partaking in this interview. In a couple of minutes, we will connect you straight through to Chris and you can just start chatting and asking your questions. We will record everything from our end and then edit it together to be posted online.” “That all sounds perfect to me. Thank you so much for having me and letting me do this with my husband.” You couldn’t help but grin, it never got old getting to call Chris your husband. You absentmindedly twirled your engagement and wedding rings round your finger.  “Okay, we will connect you now. Have fun!” 

And then there he was, bright eyed and grinning at you through the screen.

“Hi Sweetheart.” His voice made your heart flutter and your stomach do flips.  "Hi Chris, how are you?” you reply sweetly.

You made some small talk for the sake of the interview, before starting to ask each other questions. “So I have a confession to make..” you paused briefly, “I could not think of any questions to ask you that I didn’t already know the answer to, so I thought I would ask questions that I think fans would want to know the answer to.” 

You grin, proud of yourself and proud of the big laugh you got out of Chris because you had come up with such a good idea. “My first question is when you first got into acting, how did you navigate the work/life balance?”

Chris took a swig of beer, pondering his answer before starting. “Well when I actually booked my first bigger film that had a busy schedule, was on the film we worked on together, so previous to that I didn’t have much of a social life” he chuckled, “But when you’re filming for maybe 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, you have to quickly find a routine that works for you where you can still show up to work every day and give 110%. I also remember we used to take naps on set in between our takes all the time.” You couldn’t help but smile as you fondly remembered the first time working with Chris. “No but seriously, when you find a script that you are passionate about, and get to work with people that are truly amazing at what they do, you are happy to dedicate as much time as you need to to get that perfect take, to eventually make that perfect film.” 

“Okay, well let’s talk about Defending Jacob, which for you, was a completely different style of character for you to become. How did you prepare for that role?” 

“Yeah, it was definitely a new type of role to encompass, especially off the back of playing Captain America for almost a decade, even though he was considered a serious character, it’s a completely different league to enter. I remember doing a lot of work with real life district attorneys to understand the pressure and seriousness of the job role and I remember going through lines with you every damn day.” 

You zone out as Chris carries on talking about Defending Jacob as you remember the nights fondly. 

————————

You had just finished clearing up dinner as Chris comes bounding back into the kitchen with his script for Defending Jacob. Placing it down on the dining room table, he turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.  “Sweetheart, pretty please can we run my lines again? I’ve been thinking about how I can add more passion into my character to really emphasise his emotions in those tough scenes.” 

You absolutely couldn’t say no to him. You was so proud of how much work he was putting into this show and how perfect he wanted it to be, but you also couldn’t say no to those gorgeous blue puppy eyes. 

It had been 45 minutes since you started running lines, you were now sitting on the dining room table swinging your legs back and forth and you couldn’t take your eyes off Chris pacing round the table, the anger and passion in his voice as he recalled his lines. You could feel the heat pooling towards the bottom of your stomach as he ran his hand through his hair, his chest flexing as he shouted his lines, the gruff tone of his voice only making your panties wetter. You were biting your lip gently as Chris pulled you out of your daydream. 

“Y/N are you alright, are you getting bored?” You shook your head quickly. 

“God no, course not babe. You’re doing great, I’m just slightly distracted.” 

Just like always, Chris could read your mind and knew exactly what you were thinking. He sauntered closer to you, placing himself in front of you and sliding your legs open so he could stand between them. Placing his script down, he used one finger to tilt your chin up to look him in the eyes. 

“Is there something you like baby?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he called you baby and ran his finger across your bottom lip before ghosting a kiss on them. He leaned down towards you, one hand running down towards your panties as he kissed along your neck and up to your ear, before mumbling..”I think we can take a break”. 

————————

You chuckled to yourself, remembering so vividly on how you both broke the dining room table that night. 

“Oh, is something funny sweetheart?” Chris bought you out of your daydream. Clearing your throat, you mumbled an apology before changing the subject straight back to the interview. 

“Okay, let me ask you a question now Y/N. I want to know how it feels to be like a superwoman as you managed to film and promote your latest movie whilst we were planning our wedding?” 

You giggle lightly and smile broadly, remembering the chaos that was your life the six months leading up to your wedding. 

“Honestly, Chris, that feels like a blur these days. Planning our wedding was much more work than filming and doing press tours, but somehow we made it work. Don’t make it sound like I did it so elegantly though, I was an absolute bridezilla those six months and I don’t know how you put up with me.” You smile at each other through the screen, remembering the fond memories of your engagement. “But in all honesty, it was just quite a strict schedule with minimal sleep. I loved filming and the press tour for my film was so much fun, as was planning our wedding so even though at the time, it felt like an impossible task, looking back and seeing how well the film did and how perfect our wedding day was, it makes the hard work worth every second.” 

Your smile falters slightly at the thought of some of the more stressful times during that stretch, but quickly returns at the look of love in Chris’ eyes as he hangs onto your every word.

————————

You had spent the day at home trying to organise the seating plan for your wedding which was quickly approaching in 3 months, whilst Chris had been out all day filming. 

Unfortunately before Chris came home, you had pulled your heels on, ready to walk out the door to your awaiting car to take you to your latest movie press panel. A sad sigh was all you managed before you hauled yourself out the door for the 2 hour interview with your cast mates. 

The panel had finished at 9pm and you had jumped straight back in the car, so the driver could take you home to Chris, silently hoping you could catch him for a bit before he went to bed. You knew he would be calling it a night quite early as you had woken up to his side of the bed empty and cold that morning, meaning he had left the house before sunrise. You felt a sudden pang of sadness about how little time you’d spent with your fiancé over the past 3 months. It was no ones fault, you were both busy but it felt like you were actively avoiding one another. You shook your head as a few tears fell. 

As a welcome distraction on the way home, you had opted to start looking at flower arrangements for the bridesmaids bouquets, but you could feel yourself drifting in and out of consciousness, feeling so tired and drained from months of final filming and wedding planning. 

It was just after 10:15pm as you stepped out the car, thanking the driver before heading up the path to your house. You could see the lights were off, bar the hallway light that Chris had left on for your arrival home. You sighed sadly as you stepped in the door to the quiet abyss. You removed your heels, not wanting to make any unnecessary noise, knowing that Chris was up just as early tomorrow.

Walking through to the kitchen, you could see Chris had left you some pizza takeout on the side but you didn’t have the energy to eat, just wanting to curl up in bed. 

Heading straight into the ensuite to your bedroom, you quietly took off your make-up and cleansed your face to hide your tear-stained cheeks. Creeping back into the bedroom, you stood looking in the mirror of your dresser as you put on one of Chris’ t-shirts; you looked defeated and utterly glum. As you stood there for a moment longer, trying to collect your emotions and bottle them away, you heard Chris stir. 

“Babe, come to bed.” 

You felt your shoulders relax at the rough sound of his sleepy voice. Quickly wiping under your eyes once more, you turned round to see him holding the duvet up so you could crawl under and into his waiting arms. 

Immediately relaxing into the mattress, goosebumps arose on your skin as Chris trailed his fingers up your side to pull you into him. You let yet another tear fall from your eye at the fact that this was the first time you’d actually seen him today, frustrated that work and wedding planning was taking up all your time. This didn’t go unnoticed by Chris as he caught the lone tear with his finger, wiping it away. 

“I just want our wedding to be perfect and my movie to do well without having to sacrifice all my time with you” you whimpered, hiding your face in Chris’ chest.

“Sweetheart, I’m marrying you, it will all be perfect. Get some sleep, I love you.” Chris gave you a kiss on your forehead before falling straight to sleep, you dozing off straight after him, with heart full of love. 

————————

The interview was coming to an end and you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with happiness of getting to spend so much time talking to Chris but also dread of not knowing when you would get to see his face again before you finally got to go back home in a months time.

“Okay sweetheart, I have one last question and it is one that Variety suggested for both of us to answer. What is the best part about being married to someone in the same profession as you?” You smile at Chris through the screen, trying to think of only one thing to pick. 

“Well, it is difficult to pick one, because there are so many great reasons but also it is really hard being married to someone in the same profession as you. I always try to be honest with our fans and in interviews, so I don’t want to sugarcoat it. We have to go long periods of time not getting to see each other and always having such high pressured schedules doesn’t allow a lot of time for married life.” You sigh at the look of sadness that has washed over both your faces. “However I count my lucky stars every day for having such a supportive and understanding husband like you.” You notice Chris blush at your answer before nodding along with you, agreeing with what you’ve said. 

“I have to agree with you sweetheart. There is definitely some poetic justice in the fact that we met on set, both doing the job we love so fondly and here we are, 16 years later, married and getting to celebrate our achievements every single day together.” 

You have to told back the tears as the interview finishes and Chris disappears from your screen. Even though you have demanding jobs, you could not feel luckier to be married to a man like Chris and you couldn’t wait to go back home to him. 

[rodeo-boots]

Hello! I saw requests are open, so could I ask for Dutch x f!reader where she gets caught staring multiple times at him while he's reading or something so he decides to ask her about it. I would love it if it turns VERY nsfw, but its up to you ☺️💕 thank you if you decide to do this 🤍

I hope this turned out okay, I wanted to do more with this amazing request but I've had a shitty week that killed my enthusiasm entirely. Thank you for the request though! I adored it <3

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1884

Warnings: creampie, pet-names

AO3

–––––––––––––––––––––

You bit your lip for the umpteenth time that day.

It was hard not to, hard to control anything about your facial expression when your eyes wouldn't move on from one place. Or rather, one person.

The mending you've meant to do had been forgotten about for a long time already, your fingers remaining unmoving, while the sock was still held in your hands. And by the second, your grasp was tightening.

Of course you couldn't help it, weren't the one to blame when Dutch casually sat around looking like that.

His red onion suit hugged his torso like a second skin, his pants riding low on his hips, though you couldn't see much of that with how he had crossed his legs. For minutes, you've prayed that he'd part his thighs, your mouth watering at the mere thought of laying eyes on the bulge within his pants.

You just couldn't seem to stop your nasty thoughts, biting down on your lip again, as your eyes took in the man's physique.

Thankfully, he had been busy reading all morning, had taken a shady spot for himself to sit and enjoy the few calm moments he had.

You wished he'd glance up just once, wished he'd see the need and hunger in your eyes and do something about it – Even if that was more than unrealistic.

A sigh left your mouth. Too loud. Too hearty. Dutch's gaze lifted at once, and settled on you without needing a second to think about who may have made that kind of noise.

"Is everything alright?"

You've been caught, swallowing and nodding much too quickly. "Yeah, I– just poked my finger," you lied, holding up your needle as 'proof'.

He raised a skeptical brow, set his book down in his lap. Oh fuck. "Then why have you been staring all of the last half hour?" He had gotten you good, left you short for words now, heat creeping up into your cheeks.

"I... uh–" it wasn't often that you were stuttering and stammering, but now that he had caught you red handed, there seemed nothing left to say. "I wasn't looking at you?" What a pathetic excuse of an excuse.

Dutch considered that, stared at you with a smile slowly shaping upon his lips. Oh, he knew what you've been thinking, that much being clear in his expression.

Leaning forward with his elbows upon his knees, he watched the way your eyes involuntarily followed the movement of his chest-muscles and his bicep, getting his answer without needing to tickle it out of you.

"Why don't you come over here?" He spoke tenderly, knowing that few people at camp would have any complaints if he happened to have a little talk with you. "It seems you do not make progress on your work, anyways."

Where he was right...

You stood, didn't even take a moment to hesitate as you approached him, Dutch stretching a hand out to take yours into his own.

He got to his legs, kissed your knuckles before leading you into his tent. "You know, I like ladies who know what they want." He pulled the flaps shut behind you, your heart beat picking up until you could hear blood rushing within your ears.

"That so?" The words left your mouth before you could stop them, not remembering the last time you've been this brave. Considering that you've stared at the gang-leader all morning, however, you figured you had to have more confidence than you've ever expected.

He clicked his tongue, led you towards his cot and motioned for you to sit, before stepping over to his gramophone. "You don't mind some music, do you?" His voice was as low and deep as ever, carrying something within that you didn't know to identify.

You swallowed, shrugged your shoulders.

Dutch placed the needle on the record, adjusted the volume before coming closer and sitting by your side.

"I enjoy how it carries the mind wherever it needs to be," he muttered, speaking fondly while his hand slowly settled upon your thigh. "And the privacy a bit of noise will offer us."

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, breath catching in the back of your throat when he slipped nimble fingers under the hem of your skirts. They felt much warmer than you would've imagined, the sensation of his palms upon your skin making it prickle with goosebumps.

"Dutch..." your voice was barely audible above the music playing within the tent. Something classical, orchestral, familiar just because he only played the same two records.

"What is it, Miss? Have I misread your signals?" He had leaned in, your eyes widening when you found his face right in front of yours.

You shook your head. He had read you right, had interpreted your stares correctly, but you didn't know where this was supposed to go. Didn't know if you should let it go any further.

Even if your mind eagerly screamed "yes".

His lips met yours, your eyes closing at the kiss that cut off your thoughts faster than you would've expected. You gasped, leaned in and parted your lips to allow him to slip his tongue inside.

With a pleased growl, he did just that, the hand upon your thigh continuing to wander and squeeze your flesh, reaching your undergarments only to hesitate.

When you opened your eyes again, he was staring at you, the touch of his fingers on the waistband of your bloomers promising you much more to come.

"Now, my lady, what is it that you want?"

You gathered your confidence once more, briefly licked your lips before reaching for his crotch, and resting your hand upon the tent in his pants.

"You."

Dutch was more intense in the bedroom than he was while holding a weapon. Relief spread within you at the fact that he had turned up the volume of his gramophone somewhere along the way.

He hadn't even undressed you completely, his fingers merely teasing your slit through the fabric of your underwear.

Releasing one soft moan after the other, you rolled your hips into his touches, eager for more, eager to finally get the relief you've waited for all day.

"So wet for me already," he mumbled in appreciation, pulling your undergarments out of the way to finally bare your soaked cunt and dip two of his fingers inside without missing a beat.

Your breath hitched, fingers tightening around his dressed cock, messily working on opening his pants to offer him the very same amount of pleasure.

He grumbled, removed his fingers and wiped them on his own pants, hands moving to help you by pulling the zipper down and getting the onion suit out of the way.

"Seems like you can't wait," he chuckled deeply, watched as your eyes clung to his middle and took in the sight of his cock standing proud and tall, visibly pleased with your reactions.

Reaching for you again, he brought you onto his lap, gathered your skirts in one fist while he let you lean your back against his front.

Soon enough, his lips attached to the nape of your neck, brushing hair aside as he plastered kisses over the sensitive skin, growling as he stroked his cock and ground it against your folds. "Good girl," he muttered, his voice near inaudible over the music, though it sent vibrations through your entire body either way.

"Please..." you took over and held your skirts on your own, heat crawling into your cheeks at the wet sounds Dutch's cock provoked between your legs. Grinding down, and rubbing your nub against the head of his erection, you gasped out, your spine curving as pleasure started to build within you.

But it wasn't enough.

"Please what, princess?"

You whined, hoping the rolling of your hips conveyed your message somehow. "Give it t'me," you mumbled, knowing that he wanted to hear exactly what you wished for. "Dutch, fuck me."

He groaned, finally lined his cock up to your entrance and guided you down, his hands at your hips.

Your head rolled backwards, keening out at the sensation of being filled so pleasantly, at being stretched by Dutch's considerable girth. The feeling of each and every little twitch of his cock sent shivers down your spine, your toes curling at the pleasure of it all.

"That what you wished for?" He asked quietly, grabbing your thighs to hold them up once he had bottomed out, the slight change in angle and position allowing his cock to slip even deeper into your tight heat.

With a hum and a nod of your head, you let him know that yes, this was all you could've ever wished for, feeling breathless and short for words where you sat impaled on his girthy erection.

Dutch moved you more than you moved by yourself, the rolling of his hips initiating that of your own. He ground deep, the head of his cock rubbing into your tight walls and your most sensitive spots.

It felt heavenly, indescribable, the sound of music merely an afterthought in your head. All you could really hear were Dutch's panting breaths, anyhow, the sweet nothings he muttered into your ear as he fucked you slow, but good.

"Just relax and enjoy," he mumbled, kissing along your shoulder, or what he could reach of bare skin.

One of his hands moved upwards, palming and kneading one of your breasts, your nipples standing to attention beneath the fabric of your top.

You moved with him, started to match his rhythm at first before it became harder and harder to keep up the slow pace.

In a need for more, you started to bounce on his cock, punching a surprised sound from his lungs as you moved fast – and rough.

The noises from your lips would be audible far and wide, along with the slapping of skin against skin and Dutch's very own groans. If it weren't for the music, you would've long since been caught, but alas, it kept your actions concealed.

You reached down, rubbed your tingling and swollen clit in quick circles to add to the stimulation, your moans peaking in volume the longer you continued.

Dutch had to get closer to the edge himself, grabbing your waist once again and bucking up into your tight heat, grunting and groaning while your walls fluttered around him.

He brought you down onto his cock time and time again, ringed fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he guided you, fucked you, his breath stuttering the moment you tensed, and came with a hoarse cry.

"God–" your eyes rolled back, lips parting in ecstasy while Dutch kept thrusting into you, pounding you through your orgasm until he reached his own.

He emptied his balls within you, arms hugging you tight while his hips stuttered upwards as he rode out the last of his high.

With his face buried in the crook of your neck, he caught his breath again, planting a kiss to the skin before pulling away.

Your legs wobbled when he slipped out of you and let you sit down by his side, his release already beginning to leak out of your entrance.

[marvelfansince08love]

Hey Neighbour! - Part 4

Word count: 4.5k 

Pairing: Ally Mayfair-Richards x Reader 

Warning: Some sexual tension, mention of past break-ups. Fluff!!

A/N: I’ve finally finished this part lmao! Enjoy my loves <3 Your feedback means the world to me and I’m so happy so many of you are enjoying this series x

Part 1, 2, 3

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @creepingwolfberry @coconutlipss @saucy-sapphic @minavenable @pearplate @r0an0ke @mssallymckenna @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @venablemayfairgoode @veteranwerewolf95 @chewbacca0805 @pluied-ete @supremeinlilac @nyx-aira @witchxaf @black--widxw @fireflyglass @cordeliafoxxe @d14n4ol @bluevelvetbitxh

Gif credit to @thatsmypeach 💖

Part 4 

Days passed with only small glimpses of your endearing neighbour, with the upcoming re-election Ally had been busy most of the week campaigning in and around the city. Oz had come over with Ally’s permission after school to hang out with Amelia yesterday informing you of his mothers absence lately, you wanted to sigh in relief at his words growing anxious that your date planned with his mother might not go ahead. You were understanding of her job and debated rescheduling the date for when Ally wasn’t so stressed with work but the message left in the window late last night after you dropped Oz off with his babysitter settled your debate with yourself.

‘Sorry I’ve been so MIA this week. Can’t wait for Friday! X’

You had blushed ridiculously at her message, the warmth felt within your stomach growing as you thought about her thoughtful nature. Now it was the night before the supposed date and that warm feeling had changed to nervous butterflies as you eyed the two outfits chewing lightly on your bottom lip as you pondered on what to wear. 

“That’s a pretty dress, Mommy.” Amelia’s voice startles you out of your thoughts. Turning you grin at her fluffy pyjamas and princess crown that lays crooked on top of her hair as she holds tightly to her fairy wand, you gesture for her to enter the room where she hovers by the doorway. 

“What do you think, Munchkin?” you ask, pulling her in close to your side as her eyes glance between the outfits. She points her wand  confidently to the more formal attire nodding her head once to confirm her decision. 

“I’m trusting your judgment on this one, kid.” you murmur, bending slightly to kiss her tousled hair. “Come on you, let’s get you ready for bed.” you instruct, shaking your head at her put together attire for the evening narrowly avoiding a bop on the nose by her silver wand as she flaunts out of the room leaving trails of glitter from her magic wand.

Once Amelia is well tucked in and free from her fairy princess duties, you sit comfortably by her tucked in legs laughing as she pulls funny faces at you. 

“Alright your majesty, you’re going to close your eyes now and go to sleep.” she squints her eyes shut mockingly as you bop her nose making her giggle between yawns. Relaxing into her pillow she eyes you for a moment. 

“Do you like Ozzy’s Mommy?” her question makes you freeze in place as you try to find the right words. 

“I-uh yes I do, she’s lovely and has been very kind to us since we moved here,” 

“And she makes the best hot cocoa!” Amelia exclaims, before smacking her hands to her mouth shushing herself as you quiet giggle at her enthusiasm. 

‘Grandpa has some competition it seems’ you think amusingly before tucking her in further watching as her eyes fight to stay open. 

“She does make great hot chocolate,” you agree, before sitting in silence for a moment basking in your daughter's presence. 

“Do you like Miss. Ally like you liked my Mama?” you gape at her innocent tone, struggling to find the right way to answer her as truthfully as possible. 

 “Well, me and Ally are just friends and we enjoy hanging out with each other. I don’t love her like I did your Mama but how do you feel if I were to see Ally more often?” you tentatively ask, concerned that she might not like you seeing her new friends mom, especially if there were more potential dates in the future. 

Her lips twist in concentration as she ponders over your question before nodding grabbing hold of Mr. Bunny next to her cuddling him close. 

“I like Miss. Ally, Mommy. Are you going to take her out on a date? Uncle Rupie didn’t see me but he told Grandpa about a girl he took out on a date and she kissed him Mommy, yuck!” she confesses, her face scrunching in disgust as you match her horror. 

“Well Mommy needs to have a word with him about watching out for prying little ears huh?” you say out loud to yourself. Amelia nods in agreement not fully understanding the dynamic of adult conversations, especially where her uncle is involved. Kissing her nose you whisper good night and wish her the sweetest of dreams before making your way to your own room across the hall. 

Lying in your bed you watch the moon shine bright in the night sky, a soft smile appearing upon your lips. 

‘I’m going on a date with Ally Mayfair-Richards’ 

***

“Would you like more tea, Sir. Rupert?” Amelia politely asks her uncle who sits across from her, wearing his customised paper crown made by the princess herself. Matt holds out his tea cup accepting the tea offered by his only niece.

“Why thank you, Princess Amelia.” He thanks before taking a sip from his empty plastic cup. You lean against the doorframe wearing your outfit for the evening, grinning at the site before you. Amelia senses another presence in the room as her eyes clash with your own, her gasp alerting her uncle of your presence. 

“You look beautiful Mommy!” she gushes, moving to wrap her arms around your legs. Placing your hand against her back you thank her for the lovely compliment before raising an eyebrow at your brother. 

“Sir. Rupert huh?” you grin as he glares over towards you. 

“You tell anyone about this, I'll give your daughter up to the dragon,” he threatens playfully as you and Amelia gasp in horror. 

“I better come back here with my house still intact, you got it.” you warn, mainly to your brother as you raise a challenging eyebrow in his direction. Amelia looks up at you from her cuddling position. 

“I’ll look after him Mommy,” you crouch to cup her cheek, kissing her nose. 

“Thank you baby, I’ll come say good night later okay?” you inform as she nods acknowledging your words. Your brother scoffs from his seat at Amelia’s pink table. 

“Or good morning depending on how she reacts to that outfit,” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you as you shake your head disapprovingly. Amelia frowns at her uncle's confusing words wondering why you wouldn’t come home and say good night to her.

“You're silly Uncle Rupie,” 

“Yeah ‘Uncle Rupie,” you mock, sticking your tongue out at your annoying brother come babysitter. Hugging Amelia once more you bid your goodbyes and make your way downstairs just as the doorbell rings through the house. Hurrying over towards the door, you stop for a moment to steady yourself  before slowly opening the door. You breath hitches as you take in the powerful brunette dressing in black pants with a turtleneck tucked in them, her signature long coat in place as she shivers against the slight breeze, her brown eyes take in your attire with a slight glint. 

“You look beautiful,” she whispers, a subtle smirk appearing onto her pink lips. You fluster for a moment not used to such compliments as you appreciate her outfit once more. 

“So do you,” you murmur, feeling suddenly shy under her intense gaze. She holds out her hand for you to take which you accept willingly, her thumb brushing reassuringly across your skin soothing your nervousness almost instantly. 

“I haven’t done this in a while myself, I guess we’re both a little nervous.” she admits, a soft smile appearing onto her lips. You meet her gaze for a moment appreciating her honesty and understanding of the situation, your moment is ruined as the small quiet sounds of giggling from inside the house interrupts your private bubble. Ally reluctantly lets go of your hand and grins as her eyes surpass your form and towards the staircase where small and big feet stand as the mischievous pair try to subtly watch on. 

“Hi Amelia,” Ally calls out, amusement evident within her brown eyes as she glances briefly at you. You grin fondly as you hear the small voice of your daughter as she sheepishly waves from between the wooden posts at the top of the staircase banister. 

“Goodbye you two,” you call out, making your way out of the home shutting the door behind you in the process. 

“I’m sorry about that, my brother is worse than any child,” you laugh, feeling slightly embarrassed as you shuffle in place. Ally chuckles as she waves it off, tucking her hand into her coat pocket indicating for you to wrap your hand around her crooked elbow which you accept happily. 

“So Senator, where are we going? I don’t know if you know this but I’m new to town,” you tease, still curious at her lack of information about your date for this evening. She laughs at your joke enjoying that natural flow between you both when it’s just the two of you. Guiding you over to her car you raise your eyebrow at her silence. 

“Don’t worry I’m not kidnapping you,” she reassures, as she makes her way round to the driver’s side. Once sat in the car and buckled up Ally looked over to you, her fingers touching your forearm briefly. 

“Do you trust me?” Her words are so simple but with such meaning behind them the only response you can commit to is a nod. That seems to give her all the confirmation she needs as she sets off down your street heading for the town centre. 

Pulling up next to the curb you frown as you take in the dark building next to you.

“Is the restaurant closed?” you ask, your only reply is a wicked grin and a wink before she gets out of the car and towards your door offering her hand as she helps you out of her car. 

“The restaurant is never closed if you're the owner of it,” she murmurs, close to your ear as she places a hand against your lower back. You gulp at her closeness feeling her warm breath against your skin, your eyes widen as you register the new piece of information. 

“You own this place? How did this not come up in conversation before?” you question, still shocked at the new piece of information feeling slightly impressed at her juggling skills of being a mom, senator and a restaurant owner. She shrugs looking slightly sheepish as she escorts you over to the front door, digging for her keys before opening the door. 

“I hope it isn’t too full of myself, bringing you here. I just thought if you were going to have the best meal of your life it may as well be cooked by yours truly,” she confesses, her end statement making you laugh at her confidence. 

“So sure of yourself, Richards. I have high expectations for this meal,” you inform, going along with her teasing and carefree nature. Ally switches on the light revealing beautifully lit fairy lights that cover the ceiling of the restaurant, candles unlit on the only dressed table for the evening.  She bites her lip as she contemplates her next words.

“Well, I’ve made us a delicious meal but I thought I’d add a twist to our evening.” she reveals, you frown at her dramatic build up wondering what else she has in store. “Since I cooked us the starter and the main, I thought we could have a little competition on the dessert part because those cookies you made were actually pretty good,” Ally laughs, at your gaped expression. 

“Hey! You say that like you are surprised!” you exclaim, joining in on her laughter watching as her eyes light up when she smiles wide, grinning softly at the observation. 

“You admitted it yourself sweetheart, remember? Thankful that the kitchen was still in one piece was it?” she mocks, as she escorts you over to the table waiting for you to sit comfortably on the chair before moving to grab hold of a lighter from the counter, lighting the two candles that sit in between you both. She gestures for you to wait a moment as she makes her way into the back and appears a few moments later holding a bottle of wine and two glasses. 

“I hope you like Red, it’s one of my favourites,” she offers you some, which you happily accept watching her fill the glass with ease before proceeding to fill her own taking a seat across from you. Grabbing hold of the glass you hold it up towards her as she does the same clinking her glass against yours before taking a sip, her eyes never leaving your own. 

The evening filled with great food and easy conversation as you both start to open up about your past hardships, realising how similar your heartaches were. Ally revealed that before her wife passed things were starting to get worse between them, talks of divorce circled around before that terrible incident. Apparently Ivy had been a part of the famous Cult that was led by Kai Anderson before being an unfortunate victim to his murderous plans, you had heard about the young man on the news a few years ago but at the time you were mostly back in your hometown raising Amelia not having much time for the news. 

“So Amelia mentioned she had another Mother once? What happened there if you don’t mind me asking?” Ally asks, following your mentions of struggling in the first few years of Amelia’s life. You take a sip of your wine before opening up to her about that particular sensitive topic but her eyes are so full of kindness and understanding the words just start to spill like a river flow. 

“She was the first girl that I had ever kissed, we were in school together all the way up to college. I think I had always been in love with her so when we graduated and she asked me to marry her of course I said yes in an instant,” you scoff quietly, pausing for a moment. Your eyes casting down to the white cloth that covers the table. “It was her who came to me about the idea of having children and how she couldn’t wait to start a family, I was so happy that she wanted to share that with me and a year later I ended up pregnant with Amelia. She was happy at first and hovered around me like a mother hen… then once Amelia was here it was like she felt she couldn’t connect to her and started to snap at me for it. Told me I was being selfish and that I wasn’t giving her enough attention.” you feel the tears build in your eyes as you subtly wipe the stray tear. “Then I woke up one morning to find all of her things gone and just a note, a fucking note can you believe. We built this life together for her to just up and leave without having the guts to say it to my face,” you grumble, before shaking your head smiling painfully over at Ally who sits quietly allowing you to continue within your own time.

“I’m sorry for rambling like that, I haven’t opened up about all of this to well anyone really,” you murmur, wiping your face once more, chuckling to yourself sheepishly. Ally leans forward and reaches for your hand across the table laying the palm of her hand on top of your own tracing a soothing pattern against your skin. 

“Don’t apologise, thank you for opening up to me. You and Amelia both deserve better than that,” she reassures, smiling softly at your tear-stained face. Pulling back she grabs hold of her wine and toasts, clinking against your own glass. 

“To shitty ex-wives and new beginnings,” she declares, grinning as you laugh repeating her words back to her. 

***

The conversation became lighter after that, telling silly stories about the children and your brother's secret love for tea parties and crowns. Ally laughs out loud at that, only picturing princess Amelia bossing around her whipped buff uncle at tea parties before sobering up clearing her throat. 

“Okay, as much as I would love to know more about these famous tea parties. We have a competition to start,” she instructs, standing from her chair and offering you her hand. 

You lace your fingers through hers squeezing the hand excitedly as she guides you into the kitchen. You look around in astonishment at the well sized kitchen taking in the new edition appliances, as she moves you over to the prepping station. You wait patiently as Ally grabs the ingredients and places them in front of you, passing you an apron on her way past. 

“I got to admit, I’ve never been on a date where I have to wear an apron before,” 

“It’s more fun wearing one the morning after,” she teases back, winking suggestively making you blush hard at her words, the thoughts of a naked Ally cooking breakfast in nothing but an apron for you in the mornings stirred something within you that you hadn’t experienced in a long time; arousal. You hide your dirty thoughts by clearing your throat and putting the apron on, deciding you aren’t going to let her affect you like this without a little bit of pay back. 

“Is that a promise, Senator?” you husk, eyeing her hungrily as you tie the strings of the apron tight against your body tugging hard for extra effect. Ally gulps visibly at you as she shakily places the flour onto the counter, her eyes glaring playfully over to you as you smile innocently. 

“Tease,” she spats, with no real bite behind her words as her brown eyes sparkle with glee. She moves towards you, pressing her front to your back as she leans close to your ear as her arms snake around you grabbing hold of the mixing bowl. 

“We’re going to make cookies but you can add your own special ingredients to spice it up a little bit,” she informs, her lips close to your ear you can feel them faintly brush the skin. You suppress a shiver knowing her game. 

“You got it, chef.” you whisper back, tilting your head to the side so your lips are an inch away from her own. You can hear her breath hitch at your sudden closeness, her eyes trail from your lips to eyes a dark look passes across her brown gaze before she steps away and prepares her own bowl grinning devilishly. 

You both continue to work on your desserts moving around the kitchen as you steal heated glances from one another. Your front pressing close to her back as you move to grab more ingredients, feeling her tense as your fingertips brush across her arm as you reach across her. Once the cookies are ready for the oven, you help Ally in cleaning the station up which takes you a lot longer as you both flick more flour onto each other than into the trash bag. You laugh at Ally’s horrifying face as you leave a white smudge across her cheek and chin. 

Her eyes darken as does her grin, making you pause your laughing fit. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. No need to retaliate, you’re a much better person than me Ally.” you bargain, as you watch her stalk slowly over to you her hands still covered in flour. You take a step back cautiously as you frantically look around the room, searching for the exit. Before you can finish up the route in your head Ally leaps forward missing you by an inch as she tries to enclose her arms around you making you yelp and giggle. 

“Ally! Please!,” 

“I like when you beg,” she flirts, grinning wickedly as she continues her attack. You stutter over your words for a moment thrown by her comment as you feel a slow burn aching in your stomach at her words, the brief moment of weakness on your part gives her an opening as she leaps forward and wraps her arms around you, making you laugh as she smears the flour onto your right cheek and nose. 

“Gotcha,” she whispers, close to your lips. Your face grows serious as your eyes find hers, basking in the comfort of being in her arms. You gaze at her lips as you lick your own watching as her gaze does the same as you move close to her, the beeping sound of the oven timer startles you apart as Ally quickly moves over to the oven to check on the cookies. You fluster at the stolen moment making your way over, Ally turns and smiles sheepishly. 

“If you like why don’t you hop on up the table. Let me refill your glass,” she murmurs, squeezing your hand on her way past as you nod shyly. 

Sitting on top of the prep table, you watch Ally move back towards you with a filled up glass of red noticing her carrying a bottle of water in the other. 

“I drove us here, darling.” she lightly reminds you, grinning softly as she comes to stand in between your legs placing your glass of wine by your hip.

“Of course! One of us has to be responsible,” you tease, wanting the easy natural atmosphere back before your almost kiss. Ally grins knowingly and continues to make polite conversation with you as she continues to stand in between your legs as if it’s the most natural place to be. You show Ally pictures of Amelia during last Halloween in her pumpkin outfit as she shows you pictures of her and Oz sledging during Christmas time, the intimacy shared between you both makes your heart flutter as you allow yourself a moment to have hope that this might actually turn into something more serious. Although the idea scares you, you’ve never been more excited at the prospect. 

The final ping of the oven springs to life indicating to remove the freshly baked goods from the oven, you hum as you take in the heavenly smell of freshly cooked dough. Ally moves over to take the cookies out allowing them time to cool down before placing two cookies from each tray onto a plate, she places the plate next to your hip and offers you a bite of her own cookie as she explains her secret ingredients. You moan as the flavour melts into your mouth closing your eyes as you bask in its yummy goodness. 

“That’s amazing!” you mumble through bites. As she smiles smugly at you, complimenting you makes you roll your eyes fondly. 

“Okay, now that we’ve gotten your mediocre cookie out of the way are you ready for mine?” you ask, grinning. Ally wiggles her eyebrows at the hidden euphemism making you shake your head jokingly at her immaturity mouthing a ‘behave’. She makes great effort to eye the cookie cautiously as you bring it up towards her mouth, you watch as she takes a tentative bite as she slowly chews on the cookie, her eyes sparkling with glee as she grins while continuing to chew on the yummy goodness, making you grin smugly. 

“See! I told you, give me baking over cooking any day.” you say, feeling proud of your creation. She nods approvingly of your baked good. 

“You know, I would love to have these in the restaurant if you ever felt up to making them again?” she asks, a genuine smile gracing her lips. You smile sheepishly at her offer shaking your head at the compliment. 

“Oh I don’t think they’re that good,” you mumble, suddenly feeling shy as you look down towards the floor. Soft fingers pinch lightly at your chin forcing your gaze upwards and towards the softest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. 

“Well I think they’re amazing, just like the person who made them.” she mutters close, her face moving closer to your own as she maintains eye contact. You chew on your bottom lip as her gaze watches the action grinning, her lips an inch away from your own. 

“I would really like to kiss you,” she states, her voice no more than a whisper in the small space between you. You finally find the confidence to speak as your eyes take in her close proximity. 

“Kiss me,” 

Her lips are on you in a second leaving no room for protest or second thoughts. Soft lips press delicately against your own at first as if to become familiar with them, it’s softness, it’s taste. Her hands rest gentle against your cheeks keeping you in place as your lips begin to explore her own, your tongue tracing gently against her bottom lip instantly granting you access as you brush against her tongue. Your stomach tightens as you hear her sweet moan, enjoying the effect you have on her, your arms wrapped around her waist keeping her close as you continue to explore each other's mouths. The screeching sound of Ally’s phone startles you apart as you both fight to catch your breaths, her head leaning against your own as her eyes remain close. 

“I should get that, it might be Oz.” she whispers, too afraid to speak louder and ruin your moment further. You gulp trying to catch up with your senses, nodding as you urge her to answer her phone. 

You watch from the countertop as she paces back and forth, frantically trying to calm the poor boy on the other end of the phone. Her eyes find you as she throws an apologetic look which you smile reassuringly to understand the difficulties of motherhood yourself. Ally ends the phone call with a sigh as she moves to stand close to you again, unable to fully be apart from you after having you so close to her. 

“Is he okay? Let me go grab our coats and we can head over?” you offer, giving her hand a squeeze before leaping off the countertop ready to head for the front entrance. Ally’s hand stops you for a moment as you look back in confusion. 

“I’m sorry our date had to end so abruptly, especially after-” she pauses, blushing slightly as she struggles to meet your gaze. Stepping close to her you press a sweet kiss to her warm cheek and whisper into her ear. 

“I’m happy to finish this off another time, if you are?” you husk close to her cheek, pulling back slightly as you watch her eyes flutter for a moment grinning at the effect you’ve just caused before moving to grab the coats from the front of the restaurant, Ally’s stuttering voice following you from behind. 

“I- yes I would like that very much,” 

Once Ally had locked up the restaurant, your prized cookies wrapped up on a plate to take home. You settle into the passenger seat and look over at a distraught Ally. 

“He hasn’t had a nightmare in over three months. I thought we were over the worst of it,” Ally reveals, her eyes glossing over as she looks out into the road. You reach across and place your hand on top of hers that rest tightly around the steering wheel, soothing her worries. 

“Let’s go and see your son, I’m sure seeing his new best friend will help.” you offer, knowing how much Oz enjoys hanging out with Amelia. You are more than willing for the two to hang out especially as there is no school tomorrow and Oz could do with his best friend. Ally nods before starting the engine and speedily heading home. Your eyes stray from the outside view to take in Ally’s side profile, taking in her shape of her nose and her full lips the glow of the streetlights making her brown eyes shine, her skin smooth and soft begging to be touched. 

Yes, definitely worth the wait.

[unbridgeabledistances]

okayyy so i had something heavier/hurt-comforty in the works as a gapfiller about mickey processing (bc we all need that!!!) but this fluffy little 3+1 about ian and mickey singing to each other happened instead— i hope u enjoy💞

a 3+1 of 3 times ian sang to mickey, and one time mickey sang to ian (to give context to the absolutely wild 11x09 serenade)

also the biggest shoutout to @southside-forever’s 80s gallavich playlist which has SO many bops and inspired bits of this😌

--

1.

Mickey didn’t really know when it all started— Ian was always fucking humming these days, always whistling or singing some tune under his breath when he came out of the shower. He was more buoyant recently, lighter— the security gig was going well, and these days it felt like something looming and heavy had lifted, releasing the crooked hunch out of Ian’s shoulders that had taken root the sour morning weeks before as he shoveled Fruit Loops and Jameson into his mouth. Since then, it felt like he and Ian were finally on the same goddamn page for once— like they had a purpose, like they were moving forward.

Or at least, moving forward on the weekdays— but today was a slow, lazy Saturday, and Mickey was still laying in bed in a tank top and boxers, sweaty and entangled in the crumpled sheets, laying back with his head on the pillow and playing some overly-gory sharpshooter game on his phone. He’d been trying to beat this fucking level a million times, but his thumb couldn’t move quickly enough at the pivotal moment when he had to shoot a bunch of enemy forces— he’d been at the game for a good half hour, since when Ian had sleepily stumbled off of the mattress sporting a full bedhead to go take a shower, and Mickey was starting to get a tinny, sharp headache from staring at his phone screen for too long. He was just starting to consider getting up, to peel off his sweaty tank top and head downstairs to grab some coffee— when Ian came into the room from his shower, a fraying towel wrapped around his lower half and his torso slick with excess water droplets. Mickey flickered his eyes up from his game for a moment, taking an… appreciative glance, and then quickly focused his attention back on his pixelated mission as Ian stood in front of the dresser in the cramped bedroom, and started to rustle through the drawers for a t-shirt.

Mickey maneuvered his buff video game avatar through a minefield, biting his lip in concentration— when his sharp focus was suddenly infiltrated by Ian, singing under his breath in an airy tone.

“Ooooooh we’re halfway there.”

Mickey gritted his teeth slightly and tried to pour all his attention into the pivotal moment of the level, but half of his mind was being pulled to listen to Ian’s gravelly voice, continuing to softly murmur to himself in a tone that was ridiculously off-key.

“She says we’ve gotta hoooold on, to what we’ve got—”

Mickey’s phone screen flickered. GAME OVER.

Mickey wanted to throw his phone at the fucking wall. He inhaled, then pressed “Start Game” again, one last time— and again, his focus was disrupted by Ian, singing under his breath as he pulled on his jeans and gently pattered his hands in a rhythm on the top of the dresser— which was endearing and sappy as fuck, sure, but it was not helping Mickey with the task at hand. Mickey puffed out a sharp, frustrated breath, keeping his eyes on his phone screen.

“The fuck are you singing for right now?”

Ian suddenly gave a sheepish smile over his shoulder as he rifled through their sock drawer, like he’d been caught in the middle of doing something wrong.

“Don’t know. Song was just stuck in my head I guess.”

Mickey glared at Ian, pressing his thumb to the screen to pause his game. “Cut that shit out.”

Ian rolled his eyes fondly, sitting on the edge of the mattress to pull on his socks. “You should be thanking me for serenading you with your fucking eighties dad music. I could be singing Carly Rae Jepson right now, or some other pop bullshit that you hate.”

Mickey felt an involuntary, amused smirk split onto his face, and he tried to turn it into a scowl. Fucking adorable motherfucker.

“Okay, tough guy. If anything you should be thanking me for cleansing your ears from the techno garbage that you used to listen to.”

Ian gave a soft smile, shoulders turning fully towards Mickey now that he’d finished pulling on his socks— and then he turned and clambered into the bed, hovering above Mickey and causing Mickey’s fingers to go slack around his phone case. Mickey could smell the warm, freshly-showered scent of him, all cheap bar soap and Old Spice deodorant, and felt the soft press of his t-shirt through Mickey’s thin tank top— an overly worn t-shirt, one of Mickey’s, that stretched just a little too tight over Ian’s torso.

Ian looked down at Mickey, fucking beaming for some reason, his eyes light. He swooped down, pressing a soft, quick kiss above Mickey’s eyebrow. And then—

“Take my haaaand, we’ll make it I sweeear”

Mickey felt an involuntary, uncomfortable chuckle bubble up out of his ribcage. Was Ian fucking… singing? To him? It definitely seemed like it. And as much as he didn’t want it to, because this was fucking sappy and ridiculous and… well, gay— Mickey couldn’t help the fact that his husband leaning over him, breathily singing the tune of one of their goddamn wedding songs in his husky tone-deaf voice, made Mickey’s blood run a little bit hotter; which was bullshit, because absolutely nothing about this should be hot, and it was probably the most disgustingly married thing that Mickey could think of— but apparently everything about Ian, every dorky and fucking god-awful cringey thing that he did, was a turn-on, or at least according to Mickey’s thudding heartbeat and sweaty palms right now.

Ian’s face was still hovering centimeters above his, his eyebrows raised triumphantly and sporting a sappy fucking grin, like he knew how affected Mickey was by this, no matter how much Mickey grumbled and complained and tried to hide it.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “You’re fucking soft, Gallagher.”

Ian just leaned down again, kissing up the slope of Mickey’s neck and biting at his earlobe—and, okay, maybe Mickey could get behind Ian’s singing after all.

 2.

Ian’s singing was starting to get fucking ridiculous— and as much as it made something deep inside Mickey feel a light pang of relief, to see Ian being his old bubbly self again in the rhythms of routine and held by the safety net of financial stability because of the security gig that made the air between them less stale, it also meant that they were also around each other pretty much 24/7, and Ian’s serenades were starting to get relentless.

While they pretty much had a common ground in liking nostalgic 80s music, they would still inevitably argue about what music to play in the ambulance every morning— and whatever shitty album they eventually chose to put on, whether it was Ian’s pop garbage of Mickey’s mellower 80s tunes, Ian’s brain would apparently absorb all the songs like a fucking sponge and he’d start singing them all day long—in the kitchen, in the shower, even when they were just laying in bed on their phones and Ian would constantly hum absentmindedly.

Today they were driving to some bougie dispensary in Glencoe, near a bunch of ridiculous mansions on the very outskirts of the city, and it was Ian’s turn to pick the music— Mickey usually elected one of the well-loved CDs that he’d jammed into the glove compartment as they were refurbishing the ambulance, CDs that he’d kept since he was a kid when he piled them high in the corner of his grimy room next to a half-broken boombox— but as much as they were Mickey’s comfort CDs, Ian could only listen to Bon Jovi so many times before he started to slander 80s music as a collective genre.

“Can we just listen to something by someone who isn’t older than us, just this once?”

“Easy for you to say, Gallagher. At least the music that I like has fucking words.”

When it was Ian’s turn to pick the music, he usually picked more modern stuff with heavy beats and a thrumming bass (though more often than not he also appeased Mickey’s tastes with some “80s throwback” playlist he’d found on Spotify that he’d noticed Mickey would bob his head along to)—but on longer drives, like this one, it was easy to butt heads about the soundtrack. Ian had allowed Mickey to play through one of his Queen CDs that morning, and then Ian had put on some whiny indie bullshit from a playlist on his phone for the other half of the drive— now they were heading home after a long day, with the stereo turned low to a local radio station.

They’d settled into a comfortable silence, as they often did at the end of the day when their energy faded— Ian had stopped pattering his hands on the steering wheel like he usually did when he was amped up and buzzing with energy in the mornings, and Mickey could tell they were both ready to collapse onto the couch the second they set foot in the door.

Mickey blew out a deflated breath and reached to turn up the radio, tuning in to some middle-aged host with a cheery voice chattering about the heat wave in Chicago that upcoming weekend—and then the airwaves went silent, and there was the overdramatic sound of a slamming door and a gospel choir.

Ian’s ears nearly fucking perked up at the sound as the opening chords began.

“Life is a mystery… Everyone must stand alone…”

Ian immediately raised his voice to join in, the tired slouch leaving his shoulders.

“I hear you call my naaaame”

He turned to Mickey and pointed overdramatically, causing Mickey to shove his arm away but unable to quell the overly fond grin that he knew was blooming on his face.

“And it feels like… home.”

The beat dropped, rolling into the chorus, and Ian energetically drummed his hands against the steering wheel once more.

“C’mon, Mick!” Ian laughed, throwing his head back dramatically as he sang while still trying to keep his eyes on the road.

“When you call my name, it’s like a little prayer, I’m down on my knees, I wanna take you there.” Ian’s pitchiness clashed with the melody, but he was too focused on singing and bopping side to side in this seat to really care.

Mickey rolled his eyes, his lips still turned upwards at the corners while he watched his absolute dork of a husband jamming to Madonna. “Isn’t this song about giving someone a blowjob or some shit?”

Ian gave an easygoing laugh. “Technically, yes. And it’s also definitionally a gay anthem, which means you have to sing with me.”

Mickey scoffed and flipped Ian off. “Fuck off.”

Ian raised a playful eyebrow, and continued to sing with relentless eye contact:

“It’s like a dreeeeam, no end and no beginning”

Mickey felt heat rise into his cheeks against his will. No fucking way was he going to sing a Madonna song about a blowjob stone-cold sober at 2pm on a Tuesday while driving home from work with his fucking husband—which, wow, that was probably the gayest sentence that had ever crossed Mickey’s mind in his 26 years of existence (which was definitely saying a lot).

This wasn’t ever a place Mickey thought he’d be in— sitting beside Ian so comfortably, singing fucking songs while they drove home from their daily commute; getting to soak up all the warmth, all the brightness that had always radiated out of Ian so intensely that it nearly blinded him, a warmth that he’d always wanted to lean in closer to even when they were just scrawny kids in a shitty neighborhood still figuring everything out.

Maybe, just maybe— it was okay to lean in a little more.

By the time the chorus rolled around the third time, Mickey was begrudgingly humming along, like he usually did whenever the songs that Ian was singing on and endless loop got stuck in his own head and popped up while he was brushing his teeth or making toast for breakfast— by the time the final rhythmic chorus faded to silence on the radio waves, Mickey glanced over at Ian, singing at the top of his lungs, face slightly flushed and grinning ear to ear.

“Just like a prayer, your voice can take me there.”

3.

Ian and Mickey were walking down the moonlit sidewalk, veering back home after an evening at Lip’s— the night had honestly been weirdly enjoyable, which was definitely a welcome reprieve from all of Lip and Debbie’s intense back-and-forths about the house over the past few weeks. Tami and Lip had needed to go over to Brad and Cami’s for some bullshit crisis management about the stolen bikes, and Ian had readily agreed to watch Freddie— which meant that whether he liked it or not, Mickey had spent his Friday evening at Lip’s half-packed apartment watching Ian coo over a one-year-old, which was… not a totally unwelcome sight.

Trying to keep his shit together, Mickey had snapped a picture to send to the Gallagher family group chat, and everyone had immediately given them shit about being so eager to babysit and get their hands on a toddler like a couple of baby-crazed newlyweds—which had caused Mickey to start overzealously complaining in the groupchat to compensate while Ian occupied Freddie. Kev had noticed the texts and swung by Lip and Tami’s house after closing the Alibi to keep the two of them company, bringing by a pack of beers—and now he and Ian were warm and happily buzzed, relieved of their babysitting duties and walking the chilly city streets back towards the Gallagher house.

Halfway through the walk Ian had interlaced their fingers, and now their arms were swinging slightly as they turned the final corner to walk down the last stretch of pavement towards the chain-link fence—when suddenly, Ian stopped cold a few houses away from the Gallagher front porch. He looked down at Mickey, raising their entangled hands and pressing a kiss to the inside of Mickey’s wrist.

Mickey raised an eyebrow in confusion, and Ian just looked back at him—his cheeks glowing pink from the few beers, his eyes light and unguarded under the streetlamps.

“This spot reminded me of something.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. Of fucking course it did. Ian was a sappy motherfucker on the best of days, but with a couple of beers in him he was practically uncontrollable.

“What?”

All of a sudden Ian let go of his hand, punching into the air dramatically.

“Cause love is a battlefiiiield”

Mickey laughed, feeling warm hot blood rush to his cheeks in delight—and fuck, he loved his husband so goddamn much. And just this once, mostly because of the own alcohol running thick in his bloodstream, Mickey made the lurching decision to join in, stepping closer towards Ian and raising his hands equally as dramatically.

“No promises, no demands”

“Woooooah”

Ian had practically doubled over with laughter, tears welling in the corner of his eyes—and Mickey let himself get lost in it, the warm feeling buzzing through his body, of love and joy and fuck knows what else, getting to sing on a fucking street corner with his husband a decade after everything had gone so gut-wrenchingly wrong, leaving him bleeding on this same pavement.

They stumbled over their own feet up the stairs, fumbling out of their clothes and collapsing into bed—and later, just as Mickey was on the brink of fading into unconsciousness, Ian mumbled the same refrain into the crook of Mickey’s neck in a sleepy voice, like the song was still stuck in his head and he just couldn’t help it.

“Love is a battlefield.”

4.

It was late— it was one of those slow, tender nights when the past was hanging heavy over them, laying pressed together in bed as thin streams of moonlight poured in through the blinds, pressing whispers into each other’s skin about all of the hurt and the doubt that had been seeped up and healed with time.

Ian was sprawled back on the bed and Mickey was laying with his head resting on his chest, feeling his ribcage expand and contract each time he took a breath. They’d absorbed so much the past few weeks— the sick, twisted blows of a loss that felt all the more jagged and painful because of how muddled the grief for Terry was—but after a few days had passed they’d found a place to settle, in the comforting press of the silence in their bedroom.

Mickey was mindlessly playing with Ian’s fingers, listening to his steady breathing—and without thinking, he ran a finger over the cool silver of Ian’s wedding band, letting out a breathy chuckle.

“I still can’t believe we’re married sometimes, man.”

Mickey could feel Ian’s lips curve upward into a smile from where his mouth was pressed against the top of Mickey’s head.

“Yeah, me either.”

And Mickey felt something bubbling, something welling— and he didn’t ever fucking sing, not unless Ian made him, but Ian was always fucking dropping song lines into sappy moments like this.

So he took a breath, and, half-singing but mostly talking, in a way that sounded almost mocking if it wasn’t so soft around the edges, he let out into the dark silence of the room:

“At last….”

He wasn’t even singing, not really—he was just sort of… saying the words in a singsongy way, but he knew that Ian could tell what he was doing, what he was trying to do. He was trying to be as fucking sweet and soft and pliant as Ian was, as Ian always was in moments like this, in a way that sometimes made Mickey feel brittle and hard in comparison. This time, Mickey wanted to breathe out the love he had for him into this moment, the love that made his ribcage feel like it was going to fucking burst— a love that he felt erupting outwards when Ian had played this song for him for the first time a few weeks before the wedding, and had asked with a shy smile, “D’you think it’d be okay if you walked down the aisle to this song?”

Ian’s chest shook with laughter, and he carded a hand through Mickey’s hair. And then, in his gentle, sleep-soft voice, in a breathy tone that tickled the shell of Mickey’s ear:

“My looove has come along”

Mickey rolled his eyes fondly, just to prove something to himself, even though he knew Ian couldn’t see him—and then he reached a hand upward and leaned back, drawing Ian’s chin forward to press his lips to his for a brief, lingering moment.

Mickey settled back against Ian’s chest again, and felt Ian press a kiss to the top of his head. He smiled contentedly, closing his heavy eyelids.

Maybe being a couple of sappy motherfuckers wasn’t so bad.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 (𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑗𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔×𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟) 𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐾𝑖𝑚 𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑗𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔 (𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧)/ 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎��𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡

♡♡ 𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚, 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑦 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦 @seacottons ♡♡

♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡

Hongjoong tapped his pencil on the notepad impatiently, sighing for the 7th time in the minute that passed. He looked at the clock, signaling that it was almost 10:30.

Maybe I shouldn't have asked her to come. It's already late.

He had a tendency to forget that unlike him, most individuals don't like to stay up at odd hours of the night, especially not to work. But he always worked better and got inspired more during the nights. Something about the dark blue sky, crystal glittering stars and even the bustling sounds of the city awakened his senses, enticing him to start writing lyrics down, or play a few melodies on his piano. Of course, sometimes he had the usual composer's block, struggling to come up with the right music or words. Or he ended up feeling lonely and in need of comfort.

That's where Y/N came in. He'd always call her up and asked her if she wouldn't mind keeping him company, a pout always on his lips, almost like a child expecting to be refused. But she'd always be there for him, and he truly appreciated it. And tonight, he was particularly antsy about seeing her. He was getting anxious as more and more time passed and she was nowhere to be seen. Not even a text saying where she was exactly at the moment.

He was about to pick up his phone again to check up on her, when the rattling of the doorknob let him know someone was outside. He had obviously locked the door, never liking to be disturbed by anyone, so he wasn't surprised to hear the person on the other side knock. He got up and opened the door.

"Hi! I'm here!"

A dripping Y/N scurried inside the studio room, getting as close as she could to the heater that was next to the couch. Hongjoong stared in shock as a tiny wet trail was left on the carpet.

"Baby, did you walk here?" He asked, his voice full of concern.

"Well yeah....." She fidgeted with the sleeves of her sweater. "I didn't know it was going to rain and the weather didn't seem too cold, but then tiny sprinkles turned to a heavy downpour.....

But I'm here now!" She said that last part more enthusiastically, trying to ease his mind a little.

But now he felt even more bad than before. She could easily have gotten sick and it would have been his fault.

"You could have just taken a cab back home love."

Y/N pouted at him.

"I know...but I wanted to see you."

His heart melted at her words. She said the same words he had been thinking all night long. Taking small steps, he threw his hoodie over his head and held it out to her.

"Here. You'll catch a cold if you stay in those wet clothes. Take them off and put this on. I'll go see if I can find some towels somewhere."

Y/N nodded and took it. She began unzipping her sweater as Hongjoong went out the door to check the supply closet at the end of the hallway. By pure luck, there was a wide array of freshly cleaned towels on the top rack. He grabbed 3 and placed them underneath his arm before closing the door and making his way back to the studio room.

"I found some towels for-"

He stopped abruptly when he saw Y/N standing there, completely naked. His eyes trailed down her body, some parts still dewy from the rain.

"What? You said to take my clothes of." She reminded him, snapping him out of his trance.

He cleared his throat.

"Well yeah.... I just assumed you'd keep your underwear on."

Y/N chuckled.

"But then your hoodie would get wet, then what would we do Einstein?"

Hongjoong smiled shyly. "I guess you have a point there."

Y/N was about to take a towel from him, but he pulled his arm away before she could reach for it.

"Allow me love."

He began patting her shoulders with the towel, getting some of the wet drops off them. Then he bunched some of her hair in the towel, squeezing any excess water out.

"Let me know if I accidentally pull too hard."

Y/N knew that wouldn't happen. He was always so careful and gentle when it came to these things. Once he was done with that, he discarded that towel and replaced it with another one.

"Jesus, did you get sucked inside a hurricane?" He teased her.

"You're so mean. I wouldn't even be in this condition if you didn't ask me to come." She retaliated.

"I know. I know love."

His hands began traveling down her torso, rubbing softly at her skin. He kept his gaze away when he swiped the towel across her breasts, making Y/N snort.

"Hongjoong, you've seen me naked at least 7 times. Stop acting so innocent."

He blushed at her words and hesitated to continue his task of drying her.

"Here, let me finish."

She took the towel away from him and finished the task he couldn't. She took the hoodie he had given her and threw it over her head, the length of it barely covering up to her mid-thighs, but it would have to do.

"You can turn around now, you drama queen." She rolled her eyes at his acting.

He turned his head and his heart fluttered as it usually did whenever she'd wear any of his clothing. It was kind of a reminder that she was his and his only, a sort of sense of ownership over her, as outrageous as it sounded. But Hongjoong would be the first to admit that he was indeed possessive over Y/N. She was just so beautiful and precious to him, he couldn't help but think that way at times.

He leaned and just pulled her into an embrace, holding her as if he hadn't seen her in years. Y/N reciprocated the action by wrapping her arms around his waist, getting the hint that he wanted to stay in that position for a while. He began caressing the back of her head, her hair still humid, but he didn't care. His other hand ran up and down her back, occasionally drawing random shapes into it.

Before he knew it, he was placing kisses on the side of her face, eventually kissing her forehead and resting his lips there. Y/N smiled fondly at that. Forehead kisses were Hongjoong's way of telling her he adored and cherished her profusely. He mentioned it to her one day when he had done that more often than any other times. Ever since then, she loved it when he did it, now knowing there was a meaning behind his actions.

Pulling back, he cupped her cheeks and squished them gently. Puckering his lips, he moved her face side to side, cooing softly at her.

"Who could not fall in love with such a cute face like this?"

She cringed at his words, but Hongjoong knew better. She did have a love-hate relationship with him babying her.

"You're such a dork." She let out a tiny yawn after she said those words.

Hongjoong pouted. "Oh love. I'm sorry for making you come out so late."

She shook her head.

"It's fine. Did you want something in particular?"

Hongjoong hummed softly, thinking about it. He wanted to hold her, that was for sure. But he also knew he wanted to try something, if she was up for it. Smirking, he brushed some hair off her face.

"Well.... I still have a few verses left to finish. What do you say if we try a little..... cockwarming?"

Y/N's ears perked up at the idea.

"Cockwarming?"

"Yes think about it love. Me nestled inside you, while you take a nap on my lap until I finish the song?" He looked to her with hopeful eyes.

She eyed him suspiciously.

"And what about when you're done?"

Hongjoong wiggled his eyebrows.

"Well, if you're not too tired, we could try something else."

Y/N giggled.

"Are you sure you'll be able to control yourself?"

Hongjoong smiled before picking her up and wrapping her legs around his waist.

"Only one way to find out love."

He set her down on his desk and began unzipping his pants. Taking his cock out, he stroked himself a few times before sitting down on his chair. Turning his attention back to Y/N, he pulled her off the desk, placing her on top of his thighs. He licked his fingers before slipping them in between her folds, wanting to make sure she was wet enough so it wouldn't hurt her in any way. He slowly slid them in and out of her, occasionally scissoring them, stretching her out. He glimpsed over at Y/N, who was biting her lip as she tried not to let out any noises.

"You worry about me, but I think it's you who won't be able to resist." He chuckled.

Y/N rolled her eyes. "We'll see."

Satisfied with his job, Hongjoong lifted her up and maintained eye contact as he slowly sank her down onto his length. They both moaned at the warm feeling, it had been so long since they were like this. Y/N let her legs dangle and she rested her face on his shoulder. Hongjoong wrapped his arms around her.

"Take a rest. I'll be done soon enough"

Y/N mumbled something incoherently, already dozing off thanks to Hongjoong's warmth and his scent that she loved inhaling. Muttering a small 'cute', he went back to work.

The words were now flowing even smoother than before. He always did say he worked a lot better if Y/N was around. The others would always think he was just being delusional, but he disagreed. Her presence just makes him more calm, serene and helps him focus. He'd often joke about her being his muse, but even she would often roll her eyes at his statement.

He didn't know how much time had passed, all he could hear was the sound of his pencil scribbling on the paper and Y/N's faint breathing on his neck. Once in a while, he'd give her thigh a gentle squeeze or kiss her arm that was wrapped around his other shoulder, where her head wasn't. He had completely forgotten he was even inside her.

He was only reminded of it when he looked at the time that was marking that it was almost midnight. He debated whether to wake her up and take her home, or rearrange the couch so it could become a bed. Eden was the one who suggested keeping a sofa that could turn into a bed, and even kept a couple pillows and blankets in the studio since Hongjoong practically lived there at times.

But then again, she looked so comfortable and peaceful, and it wouldn't be the first time he slept in the chair. Turning off the light, he began closing his eyes, wanting to drift off to sleep as well.

But then Y/N shifted in her sleep, causing Hongjoong to jolt up and hold her hips, thinking she was going to fall. She groaned softly and shifted even more, causing his cock to twitch.

Oh my God.

He thought he was doing so well, and he could cool himself down, but the feeling was too good. Without thinking about it, he began to gently roll his hips up against hers, ever so slightly so as to not wake her up. At least that was the plan.

He smiled mischievously though when he heard her moan against his ear. He could feel her growing wetter, making it easier for him to slip in and out of her.

"Fuck." He whispered to himself.

He was getting even more turned on by the fact he was practically fucking his girlfriend while she was asleep. He shouldn't get aroused by that fact, but he was. And to know that even in her sleep she was moaning boosted his ego.

Y/N fluttered her eyes open, whimpering slightly at being woken up with an intense need. She lifted her face and was met with Hongjoong's face, his eyes full of lust and desire as he continued rolling his hips against hers.

"I'm sorry baby. It was just too tempting."

He apologized, but she knew he wasn't the least bit sorry. And she wasn't mad either way. It was definitely one of the best ways to wake up. She placed her hands on his shoulders, to steady herself as she began grinding down on him, not wanting him to have his fun only. Hongjoong hissed at the change of pace, loving the way she looked: in his hoodie, on top of him and desperate to get some release.

Hongjoong's hands went to her waist, pressing her closer to him as he kissed her passionately, his tongue slipping inside hers. His hands wandered inside the hoodie, cupping her breasts and playing with her nipples, causing her to shudder and tighten around his cock.

Hongjoong pulled back, gasping for air.

"Fuck baby. If- if you keep doing that, I w-won't be able to last much longer." He told her, trying to hold back as much as he could.

Y/N chuckled and challenged him.

"Then make me cum."

Oh. Those 4 words always set Hongjoong off. One of his hands went down between her legs, his thumb playing around with her clit. His lips attached themselves to her neck as he sucked and nibbled on all her sensitive places, having memorized all of them. All of that, plus the way his strokes got even deeper and faster had Y/N whimpering and panting above him. Hongjoong pulled back only to tease her:

"What? You asked me to make you cum and that's what you're going to get love."

His free hand wrapped around her neck, squeezing it enough to make her dizzy, but not harshly. He growled in her ear:

"Now do it baby. Cum all over my cock. I want to feel you come undone before I fill up your pretty little pussy with my cum."

She threw her head back as she clenched around him, his words being the final straw for her to break and release all over him with a soft cry of his name. She hid her face on his neck, gripping him tightly as he helped her ride out her orgasm. Her walls clenching and squeezing him tightly had him coming undone seconds after her. She felt his hot cum coat her walls, his voice muttering curses as his movements stilled, trying to catch his breath.

After a minute, Hongjoong looked back at her.

"Baby? You good?"

She nodded. "Tired."

"I know love. Hold on."

Getting up, still inside her, he walked over to the couch and set her down. He began to miss her warmth as soon as he pulled out of her. Grabbing one of the previously acquired towels, he wiped her inner thighs where some of his cum had dripped out.

Y/N was pretty much half asleep by now. So Hongjoong tried to move her as little as possible as he adjusted the couch to turn it into a bed. Grabbing one of the blankets from under his desk, he covered Y/N with it and layed down next to her, pulling her against his chest.

He stared at her sleeping figure for a while, admiring her features and smiling to himself. His finger traced her lips slowly before he pecked them with tenderness.

"I love you Y/N."

He wasn't expecting her to answer, but she surprised him when she unconsciously nestled herself closer to him and mumbled 'I love you' back to him, causing him to giggle at her cuteness.

She truly was such a precious being.

♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡

[staticscreenwriting]

LOVE LIKE THE MOVIES // BUCKY BARNES // 3

THREE - Little Shop Of Horrors

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Bucky vividly remembers being about 10 years old and sitting on the living room floor watching his father assemble a heavy cabinet made from dark, massive wood. It had intricate gold ornaments along the sides and around the edges and even at that young age, he knew that it must’ve been expensive.

He likes thinking back to that memory, mostly because it’s one of the few that he can still tightly hold onto and recount the exact way he’s felt then, and partly because it’s so seemingly insignificant. It’s nice to know that some of the memories he regained after having his mind wiped clean, are tiny unimportant ones. It’s not just the big moments and grand gestures that make life worth living. Sometimes it’s the little things, the small details you look back on and fondly remember with a smile on your face.

Looking at the furniture before him, Bucky can’t imagine what his mother would think of these cabinets. Everything is white or beige or grey and there’s a lot of shiny black fronts and glass doors. The place is huge, so huge they have to tape arrows on the floor so people don’t get lost, and it smells of artificial vanilla and sawdust.

It’s not like he hates the furniture here, it’s just a lot and quite honestly, he’s not sure what really matches his personal style. Hell, he hasn’t had a personal style since before he went to fight in the war.

“ Ooooh, this one is very you! “ (Y/N) exclaims as she lets herself fall onto a fluffy brown 2-seat sofa.

If it wasn’t for her, Bucky wouldn’t be here. Not only because he wants her to come around more often and actually be able to sit on a couch, but also because she was literally the one driving them both here.

“Watcha doin? “

That was the text that started it, and before he knew she had pulled up to his apartment building, arm hanging from her open car window, and yelled “Get in loser, we’re going furniture shopping! “

Bucky assumes that is another movie reference though he doesn’t dare ask her about it.

“Nope, that’s a two-seater. Too small. I want to be able to sleep on it. “

“ Or, and hear me out on this one, you could get a new bed to sleep in. “

He doesn’t have any reply to that. It’s not like he doesn’t want to sleep in his bed, it’s just — it’s too soft. It’s too comfortable. It makes it easy to fall asleep and dream. And it’s never pleasant dreams. It’s nightmares. It’s faces that haunt him. Innocent faces. Eyes filled with terror. Fear. Fear of him. It’s nightmares. It’s memories.

When he doesn’t answer, (Y/N) pulls herself back up from the sofa and wanders on “or we’ll just have to find a bigger couch, that’s fine too. “

And at that moment he’s entirely grateful that she doesn’t push him any further.

They wander around the store for a while longer, slalom in between sofas and recliners, swerve in and out of mock-up rooms, all the while (Y/N) keeps throwing puns at him incorporating the Swedish names of the furniture.

Hanging out with her kind of reminds him of the times he hung out with Steve when both of them were so much younger. Of course, it’s nothing alike. He’s not even close to the person he was then, the boy he was then. The thing is, back then everything was easy and light. Being here with her and listening to her horrible puns, that’s easy too. For right now, he doesn’t even notice the weight that’s constantly resting on his heart or the perpetual shadow that seems to rest above him. This is easy and it feels so nice.

They step into yet another room, this one painted a dark forest green. Against the wall, there’s a dark wooden cabinet holding books and a fake tv and in the middle is a corner sofa made from dark brown leather. It’s big enough to fit both him and (Y/N) and maybe even Lady if she’s okay with cuddling up a little to either of them.

“ I like that one,” Bucky says and lets himself plop down on the couch. It’s comfortable but not too soft. It’s just right. Is this what Goldilocks felt like?

(Y/N) sits down next to him, rests her feet on top of the couch table and for a second it’s just them and the black screen of the fake tv and the intercom system calling out for little Kyle to be picked up at the Småland play area.

“ Honey, “ (Y/N) speaks up after a moment, “ I think the tv is broken? “ her voice ringing through the mock-up in a thick Transatlantic accent, making her sound like the women in the movies he grew up with.

“ Huh. Ain’t that something ?”

“ Well didn’t you fix it like I told you? “

“ Guess I must’ve forgotten,” Bucky plays along, trying to suppress the smirk pulling the corner of his lips upwards.

“ Ugh, remind me again why I married you? “

Bucky shrugs his shoulders casually “ my good looks? “

“ Oh, don’t flatter yourself. It’s very unbecoming. Good thing is — “ she announces as jumps up, pulling Bucky up with her and right over into the next mock-up living room. “ We have another tv.”

As Kyle’s parents are called out again, (Y/N) and Bucky tumble from one room into the next. From kitchen to bathroom to fake little balcony. All setting the stage for another chapter from their made-up marriage. Scenes from a movie never made, a book never written. A beautiful kaleidoscope of could-be and never-was. A nice fantasy to get lost in.

If this was a rom-com, (Y/N) thinks, this would be the falling in love montage. Some killer indie track would play in the background and it would be featured in at least one Buzzfeed article about romantic gestures.

But it’s not a movie, it’s real life and she isn’t the romantic lead and Bucky is — well he would make a great leading man now that she thinks about it.

They make their way back to the green living room with the brown couch and the ‘broken’ tv and fall back against the leather, laughter shaking their bodies, tears of joy stinging at the corners of their eyes. As she catches her breath, (Y/N) taps Bucky softly on the right shoulder and drops her voice to a whisper.

“Honey,” she says “I don’t know how to tell you this but uh — there’s a family on our balcony.”

Bucky’s eyes follow her outstretched hand and sure enough on the adjacent fake balcony is a family of 4 staring back at them. And just like that, they fall back into a beautiful harmony of laughter.

“So explain to me again what this movie is about?” Bucky asks as (Y/N) takes another sip from her coke can.

“Dude buys a plant, it starts eating people.”

“And this is gonna show me what women want these days?”

A joyful chuckle falls from (Y/N)’s lips. “I mean … there is a love story and a moral about how far you’re willing to go for the people you love even if it might be morally questionable, but maybe — maybe we should consider this one the Halloween special.”

Bucky shrugs his shoulder as if to say “okay fine with me” and leans back against the car seat. The massive screen of the drive-in is currently playing some kind of ice cream commercial that has (Y/N) softly humming along to the jingle.

This trip wasn’t planned, in fact, they’d been on their way back home when a billboard at the side of the road caught (Y/N)’s attention and put a huge grin on her face, so wide it could’ve split her face in two.

That’s how he ended up parked neatly in a row of cars, Coca-Cola in hand, popcorn resting in between him and (Y/N) waiting for the commercials to end and the movie to begin.

“You’re gonna love this one,” she’s told him beforehand. He’s a little skeptical about it but he’s not gonna tell her. Bucky is just so appreciative of the fact that she bothers trying to introduce him to these things. They might not end up being for him but it’s a good feeling to have someone care this much. Someone who hasn’t been with him through all the shit. Someone who doesn’t feel responsible because they pity him. Someone who doesn’t owe it to Steve to look after Bucky…

“So … I still have some homework to do.” He chimes in thinking back to their conversation on his living room floor.

“Homework that involves me?”

“Mmh. Doc thinks I should learn some more things about you. Apparently, it’s not enough to know that you’re crazy about movies and talk a lot.”

“I do talk a lot.” (Y/N) agrees and pops a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you. What you want to know?”

“Anything.”

Since coming back from oblivion, Bucky hasn’t really made an effort to get to know anyone. Growing closer to people only means there’s more for you to lose. More people you can potentially hurt. He doesn’t usually learn new things about people because he doesn’t ask. Because he doesn’t want to know. It’s a lonely life but it’s safe. It’s comfortable.

But this is different. He’s in too deep now to stop. And yeah, maybe this is his homework. Maybe he asks because his therapist told him too but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. He wants to know about (Y/N). Even the little things. The insignificant details.

“Well as I said before, I’ve studied literature and creative writing. I want to be an author. That’s uh — that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be. The thing is it’s very hard to actually get people to give your writing a chance. Especially now. The world is in such a weird limbo after everyone came back. There’s no room for my art right now. So I work as a waitress to make ends meet. “

“What would you write about?” Bucky asks and in her eyes, in the surprise that’s so clearly written on her face, he can see that people don’t ask her that all too often.

“I don’t know, life? “

“Love stories?”

She lets out a mix between a scoff and a snort “what do I know about romance? I can tell you all about the love the movies and the songs and the books want to sell us, and don’t get me wrong, I love that. But I don’t think I’ve ever really experienced true and honest romantic love. So how could I ever write about it ?”

For a moment silence falls upon them. It’s neither comfortable nor awkward. It just is. Sometimes that’s enough.

“Look, I might not know a lot about love either, but I do know that dreams are worth holding on to, no matter how out of reach they seem. If it’s something you believe in and that you’re passionate about, it’s worth fighting for it.”

“Huh, didn’t put you for such a motivational speaker. Where’ve you got that from”

“Didn’t think the skinny boy from Brooklyn was ever gonna save a whole bunch of lives and fight in a war. Steve was the walking proof that you can do anything. “

“You miss him, huh?”

People don’t usually ask about Steve. They either don’t care how Bucky feels about the whole situation or they know it’s a tough topic and avoid it altogether. The worst part is he doesn’t even know how to respond. Yes of course he misses Steve, more than anything really, but there’s also a little bit of resentment swinging along. With Steve here by his side, it always felt like there was someone there who understood exactly what Bucky was going through. Someone who also had to figure out how to navigate this new life. But now with Steve gone, he feels so utterly alone.

“Every day.”

“Look I’m not going to ask what happened because quite honestly I’m still trying to grasp the fact that there are aliens and superheroes and wizards — “

“Wizards are not a thing.”

“You sure?”

Bucky lets out a slightly annoyed sigh “Yup. 100%”

“What’s the Strange guy?”

“Sorcerer.”

“That’s not the same?”

“No.”

(Y/N) considers for a moment, eyes screwed up in uncertainty before she shrugs her shoulder “ alright if you say so. Anyway, my point is, I don’t know if you have that many people to talk to and I don’t know if you even want to talk about Steve but if you do … well you can talk to me. I know I talk a lot but I’m also a really good listener. “

There’s no doubt in his mind that she is. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to talk about Steve yet though. Not when his heart is still at war whether or not to be angry. Not when he’s still so uncertain about his own complicated emotions.

“Thanks, I uh — I appreciate it.”

Loud music starts to play and (Y/N)’s head snaps towards the screen just in time for the title card to pop up in big colorful letters as three women shimmy across the street and start singing.

Bucky can’t help but let his gaze travel back towards (Y/N) every once in a while. There’s something about her he can’t quite figure out, but the way her eyes light up as she watches the movie and the smile on her face, it gives him a warm feeling. Like bad things don’t exist for the 90 minutes they sit together and watch a film.

“Sooooo?” (Y/N) asks as she parks the car in front of Bucky’s place. Her eyes still hold a sparkle that’s both mischievous and excited.

“I actually liked this one a little.”

“A little?”

“Look it’s not gonna be my favorite movie but I had fun. But uh — maybe that’s just because I’ve watched it with you.”

(Y/N) grants him a beautiful smile. It’s full of warmth and care and honesty. And he’s glad he told her, even if it makes him vulnerable.

“You telling me I’m a good friend?”

“Guess so.”

“Well, you’re a good friend too, Bucky.”

He hopes she’s right though he has a hard time believing it. He’s never seen himself as the greatest friend. Everything he did for Steve he did because he knew Steve would do the same. It came so naturally from both of them that it never felt like he was doing anything special or exceptional. It was as easy as breathing.

“Do you wanna come up? We could order some food.”

“Oh, I can’t. Gotta pick up Lady from Robin’s place. But as soon as your couch is delivered count me in as the first sleepover guest. “

“Will do. Hey, you think I should name the plant we bought (Y/N) 2?”

“Depends, you wanna feed the neighborhood Dentist to it”

“Maybe.”

They fall into another fit of laughter and even though it’s not that funny, and even though it’s really dumb and silly actually, Bucky enjoys it so much. He can’t remember a day when he laughed this much, felt this light.

“Oh, by the way, I’m throwing a pre-Halloween-party next weekend. If you’re free you should totally drop by.”

“I um — A friend is coming around that weekend.”

“Then bring your friend! The more the merrier, right ?”

Sam is gonna be down, there’s no doubt in Bucky’s mind about it. Sam isn't the problem, he never is. It’s Bucky. Going to a party is terrifying for someone who’s never known anything but the 1940s. This can only end up in disasters.

And yet …

“Okay, I’ll let him know.”

“Cool. Awesome. Just uh — Just text me when you know. Also, there’s no special theme so you can dress up as whatever.”

“I’m not dressing up.”

(Y/N) blows a raspberry against her arm “lame! But whatever, you do you.”

He guesses that means as much as “suit yourself”.

They bid each other goodbye with a hug and a promise from (Y/N) to Bucky to text him once she’s home just so he knows she’s safe.

To her, that’s a gesture so sweet and endearing it sends a jolt through her heart. To him, it’s as natural as breathing. You do what you can to keep those safe that you care about, even if it’s just a simple little text.

“You dressed up!”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Man, You’re wearing a costume. I’m looking at you right now. I can see it. You dressed up.”

“These are just my clothes.”

“These are just your clothes? Your normal clothes?”

“Yes.”

“You’re wearing Converse now?”

“ mmh.”

“Your Jeans are cuffed, man. I’ve never seen you cuff your jeans.”

“It’s something I do now.”

Bucky isn’t a very religious person. He doesn’t pray very often. At that moment though, he prays to god and every higher spirit one might choose to believe in, to open up the earth and let it swallow him whole.

“Look,” Sam says and gives Bucks a friendly pat on the back “you don’t gotta be embarrassed by it. I dressed up!”

“Yeah, what even are you, by the way? An exterminator?”

“I — what? No! I’m a ghostbuster.”

“Okay. Whatever that is.”

“Whatev— Bucky, Man you really gotta go with the times a little. I know you’re practically ancient but the Ghostbusters? Catch up!”

“Whatever. I'm not dressing up. Can we go?” Bucky sighs in exasperation, making Sam’s grin grow even bigger. Bucky knows that he’s just playing into his game, that Sam loves riling him up. That doesn’t mean it’s any easier to not let it get to him.

“Alright alright. Hold your horses. I’m ready. Let’s go … Danny Zuko.”

Bucky wants to punch him then but Sam is out the door faster than Bucky can even react, his loud laughter sounding through the hallway.

There are people everywhere. Sitting on the kitchen counter, lounging on the couches, leaning against the wall by the open windows. Everywhere. The apartment is small and with so many people inside, it looks absolutely packed. Like sardines in a tin.

Music echos through the place, a song Bucky faintly recognizes from the radio but can’t name. Sam seems to enjoy it though, his body already swaying along to the tune.

“Hey Buck, where’s your girl?” He asks as both of them let their eyes travel across the room and over the crowd.

“She’s not my girl and I don’t —“

In the middle of the room is a fish tank. It separates the living room area from the dining room and kitchen. Blue and green hues radiate from it as colorful fish circle around and swerve in and out of the plants.

But Bucky hardly noticedsthe fish, as his eyes fall onto the girl at the other side of the tank. The water sends a blue shimmer across her skin but her smile doesn’t lose any of the warmth it always holds. She looks beautiful. She always does but there’s something about her tonight that’s different from all the times he’s seen her before. Something ethereal.

At that moment, Bucky feels a fluttery feeling in his heart, in his bones, in his blood. He knows this feeling, has felt it before, a long time ago. Maybe, he thinks, maybe there could be more than friendship there.

And that thought absolutely terrifies him. Because falling for someone makes you foolish and dumb and vulnerable. And that’s awfully scary.

Taglist // if you want to be added or taken off just message me :) //: 

@zaynzierulez // @je-like-you // @dracoxxyoflam​ // @jackiehollanderr​ // @majo240820 // @kay-gilles // @booksb4looksstuff​ // @jckie94​ // @charmed-asylum​ // @shawnie--jo​ // @yllwtaxi​ // ​​

[keilemlucent]

no rest

(r18+)

eraserhead | aizawa shouta x reader

ao3

word count: ~5k

Shouta has many exhausting days, but you're always there for him when he finally comes home. And, he decides to show you how much he appreciates it.

(Or, domestic Shouta dick on hard!)

warnings: domestic fluff & smut, domestic aizawa, face-sitting, cutesy shit 

Shouta’s day had been so fucking long. Training with 1-A had been more of a nightmare than it had been in a long while. It resulted in about a third of the class needing Recovery Girl’s healing while the remainder received a harsh scolding on lack of restraint. He made sure to sprinkle on a few administrative threats for good measure, but all in all, it really soured his mood for the rest of the day.

After a quick nap and 24 ounces of black coffee, he took to his evening patrol as normal. For whatever reason, the streets were also a shitshow. He had to track down and subdue a petty burglar who had robbed a few street vendors. Shouta also detained a few muggers as well, all preying on women stepping out of a new, neon-lit club. It wasn’t particularly hard as these weren’t coordinated criminals, but rather drunken idiots who needed some sense and respect slapped into them. All the same, it was tiring and a little disheartening. 

By the time his patrol was finished, he was so exhausted. The caffeine had long burned from his system and all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep as long as possible.

Shouta made his way back to his apartment, checking his phone on the way. He couldn’t help the swelling in his chest as he saw a text from you, cute as always.

  from “y/n”, 9:32 PM

  “y/n”: miss you honey!! i made dinner and put some leftovers in the fridge for you!

“y/n”: - love you shouta baby <3

  His heart warmed. 

The two of you had been dating for quite some time, though it was one of his best-kept secrets. You didn’t mind, truthfully. You had a flexible job freelancing, so your schedule molded to the needs of a hero very well. The dates you took were carefully planned and often shrouded, but you never complained. Only a few of Shouta’s colleagues knew of your relationship, and they were sworn to secrecy. All of the external smoke and mirrors just added to the reticent, underground allure that “Eraserhead” cultivated. It was one of the reasons you fell for him in the first place. 

Shouta arrived back at your shared apartment, unlocking the door and heaving a sigh. He could see the light of the TV illuminating the living room. Your shadow was cast on a wall, disrupted as one of your cats sprung up to greet Shouta at the door. A small smile spread on his face as he reached to scratch her fluffy white chin.

You shifted off the couch, moving towards Shouta as well, “Looks like Mochi missed you.”

As you swayed towards him, Shouta was unable to help how his eyes raked down your comfortably dressed body. You were only wearing a cropped t-shirt and soft, high-waisted sleep shorts that gave a delightful peek at your ass. You swayed up to him, slowly wrapping your arms around his shoulders while he instinctively went to your waist, squeezing lightly.

He chuckled as you pressed a few playful kisses to his cheeks and stubble, “Looks like she’s not the only kitten who missed me.”

At the comment, you flushed and buried your face in his neck, giving it a playful nip, “Asshole. I always miss you.”

Shouta rumbled out an acknowledging hum. He knew this all too well. There were many nights he came home in the early hours of the morning to find you passed out on the couch spooning Mochi. He always made careful work to carry you to bed tucked against his chest, whispering sweet nothings as you became listless in his arms. Often, this would evolve into sleepy, tender fucking. Sleepy embraces of soft skin that turned into soft peaks and sweaty bodies. Though, just as often, the two of you dissolved with each other into deep sleep. 

But, this night, you were wide awake and safely in his arms.

Mochi curled around your feet as Shouta coaxed you from his neck. You withdrew only to cup his jaw in your soft hands, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Shouta shivered; he would never tire of feeling the plushness of your lips on his own. You felt his shudder, laughing lightly against his lips.

You pulled back, rubbing his shoulders, “As much as I love this, I know that you haven’t eaten dinner and I made some incredibly good soup and bread earlier if you’d like some.”

Shouta smiled, something you saw more than anyone else and you cherished that face, “Of course. Thank you, kitten.”

“Asshole,” You jolted forward at the nickname to kiss his nose before twirling from his grip to practically skip towards the kitchen, out of sight.

Shouta rolled his eyes in false annoyance, but truthfully he found your perpetual embarrassment over his jests endearing. Despite having lived together for nearly two years and been in a relationship for several more, he was still able to rile you up and fluster you with just a few words. Shouta craved it and he knew that you did too.

Shouta bent down, giving Mochi a few more scritches as your older, less spry, senior kitty, Artichoke, finally came lumbering over to greet him. Shouta alternated between taking off his boots and petting the cats before straightening up and draping his capture weapon over a hook by the door. 

He walked to the kitchen, stretching his arms above his head, watching with a fondness he could extend to you. 

You padded around the kitchen, unaware of his gaze, too absorbed in your own doings. The aforementioned soup was on the stove, heating up. You always insisted on warming things up in the oven or on the stove, insisting that it preserved the taste and quality of the food better. It took a lot longer, but Shouta didn’t mind. It made you happy.

You gave the soup a stir, nodding to yourself and stepping back to boost yourself atop a countertop, tapping through your phone.

Shouta walked soundlessly between your thighs on the countertop, placing his large, calloused hands at the juncture between your hips and upper thighs. Your eyes darted up to meet his, a sweet smile coming to your face as you placed your phone back on the counter. Languidly, you rested your arms on his shoulders, lightly pulling him and tangling a hand in his messy, raven hair. 

“How was your day?” You asked, rubbing a thumb at the base of Shouta’s skull, eliciting a rumble of pleasure low in his chest.

 Shouta pressed his face into your shoulder, half nuzzling into it, “Very long, and very tedious.”

You hummed, turning your head to press a very well deserved kiss to Shouta’s temple, “You wanna talk about it?”

Early in your relationship with Shouta, you learned that you had to prompt Shouta to talk about his feelings, thoughts, and well, a lot of things, directly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to (especially with you, he very much wanted to share his life with you), he just wasn’t used to many folks listening. 

But, you were there to listen. Always, it seemed.

Shouta shook his head, “Nothing overwhelmingly bad. Just a bit worse than normal. I’m just happy to be home.

“I’m happy you’re home too,” You replied gently, nudging Shouta’s head from your shoulder to press your foreheads together. “Do you have patrol in the morning?”

“No, I have tomorrow off,” Shouta cupped your jaw, kissing you with a soft reverence. It was gentle, mellow and slow. His other hand squeezed your hip, feeling soft flesh give way to bone. 

His dick twitched.

...

So it was one of those nights.

Shouta licked into your mouth, giving your bottom lip a quick nip. You shuddered in his grasp, arching your back into him. One of your legs began to hook around his waist-

And then incredibly loud sizzling shocked the air. 

You jolted back, looking past Shouta to the pot of warming soup.

“Shit!” You cursed. Shouta moved back, going to stir the soup, lowering the heat as you were at his heels.

“Well, at least it's warm now,” You laughed from behind him, while he dished himself up some of the fragrant soup.

  The two of you settled on the couch, Shouta quietly eating and listening to you as you filled him in on your day. You recounted how you went to the coffee shop on the corner, then scoped out a new cat cafe that was opening up across town. Your work could be done from almost anywhere, and you took advantage of that through your romps around town. You always had such cute stories about your day.

Shouta couldn’t lie and say that your wanderings didn’t worry him. He knew all too well the types that lurked in the shadows and would jump at the chance to take advantage of someone like you. But, you also weren’t reckless. Hell, truthfully, Shouta underestimated you early in your trysts, thinking you weren’t nearly as capable as you were. 

You laid your head on Shouta’s shoulder as he set the dish of soup aside, mostly finished. 

“Thoughts? Pretty good, right?” You asked, pressing a kiss to Shouta’s clothed shoulder. 

Shouta nodded, wrapping an arm around you and squeezing, “Very good. Your cooking is always very good.”

Though, it wasn’t his favorite meal of yours he liked eating. He could only pray that your cunt be his last meal on death row.

...

Shouta could survive on granola bars and apple sauce and had for a long time. The minute you two moved in together, you tried to always keep some leftovers in the fridge or freezer for Shouta to graze on. You were insistent that your role as house chef had nothing to do with antiquated gender roles, but rather that Shouta was a compliant guinea pig for new recipes. Either way, Shouta wouldn’t have minded. Truly, the closest you ever got to the ‘housewife’ archetype was the one time Shouta walked in on you in a sinfully cute skirt and frilly, pink apron when you were making literal goddamn bread.

That was also the first day Shouta fucked you over the kitchen counter. He remembers it very fondly and with a rock hard cock. 

You rose, stretching your arms above your head. The crop of your shirt rode up deliciously (and intentionally) showing off the supple skin of your waist and just a sliver of underboob. Your cute, sleep shorts, patterned with moons and stars, moved just perfectly to show the curves of your ass and thighs.

  You cleared your throat, giving him a knowing look with dilated pupils, “Something up, Shou’?”

“No, nothing at all,” Shouta rose up off the couch, having more than a few inches of height on you as he moved to rub his hands up and down your arms. “I’m gonna wash up.”

“Sounds perfect,” You stretched on your tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss, before turning on a heel to walk to the bedroom, a small parade of cats following you. 

Washing up consisted of taking a shower to wash off the grime of the day and throwing on a pair of boxer briefs and a long sleeve shirt. It was one that you frequently wore (read: stole), and it carried a bit of your scent with it. 

When he entered your bedroom, hair tied up, Shouta couldn’t stop looking at you.

He’s really not sure what changed about him. It was probably age, but something about domesticity got his dick hard. Coming home to someplace, something, some one stable made him feel warm and safe in a way that felt so new. He fucking cherished it. 

Just like he cherished you. 

You were up on your knees on the bed, playing with Mochi with a stuffed mouse toy. You hadn’t realized he had entered the room, cutely oblivious in your comfort.

 A moment later, you noticed him, all sleepy eyes and warmth.

You seized your playing and smiling, “Sleepy, dear? Come to bed.”

And oh, he did. 

Shouta went to his side of the bed (he loved that), climbing onto the mattress and pulling you into his lap.  His back rested on the headboard while yours was snug to his chest. His legs were laid out flat while yours were bent at the knees as he stroked them up and down. They were all plush, soft skin. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to mark them, be buried between them, or have them wrapped around his waist while he bruised your cervix.

His nimble fingers traced up and down your curves in a way that he knew would make you shudder.

Shouta loved the way you trembled at his touch. 

“Maybe I’m not so sleepy,” Shouta broke the almost silence. He squeezed the meat of your inner thighs, moving closer to the hem of your sinfully small sleep shorts. 

You chuckled, “I couldn’t tell.”

You ground backward, making Shouta’s cock twitch.

Goddammit. 

Shouta was exhausted. Truly and thoroughly worn out, yet he wanted nothing more than to be suffocated between your thighs. Maybe laying between them or maybe-

“Hey, kitten,” Shouta purred into your ear, tucking your hair behind your ear. He kissed softly, speaking lovely and deep. “Would you mind doing me a favor— just since I am a bit tired?”

You took a shuddering exhale, nodding as Shouta’s hands drifted between your upper thighs and the softness of your tummy, “O-of course.”

Shouta grinned, licking the shell of your ear, popping a gasp from you, “How about you sit your pretty little cunt on my face, hm?”

You breathed, wriggling against him with a whine, “S-Shouta—”. 

He truly wished he could see the bashful blush that was surely staining your cheekbones. 

You squirmed in his lap, “Are you sure? I know you’re tired, you don’t have to.”

He hummed, nodding, and moving your hair away from your neck. Shouta didn’t dare lavish it with the kisses he so wanted to. No— he merely fanned his breath and watched your squirm. In a low, growling voice he spoke into your ear, knowing how instantly wet you got for it, “Let me lay down and I’ll show you how much I want to.”

You turned back to look at him, immediately going in for an incredibly sweet kiss. Shouta swears he could taste sugar on your lips as you pull away. You perfectly juxtaposed his lust, all candied reverence and a honeyed tongue. 

You shifted, allowing Shouta to properly lay on the bed. He took note of the small, nervous tugging of your hands as you watched him. Your cheeks were flushed with want and thighs squeezed together tightly. 

God, you were precious.

Shouta couldn’t help himself. He dragged your lips down to meet his own as he settled his body onto the sheets. Your hands wove into his damp hair, rubbing a small, deep circle at his skull. Shouta couldn’t help the low moan that pulled from his chest. 

You knew just how to touch him, even in simple ways. 

Even from Shouta’s spot lying down, he was able to pull off your shorts and discard them to the floor. Your legs were vaguely unshaven, perfectly perfect.

(When the two of you first had started seeing each other, you had been so meticulous about your appearance and hygiene. You still kept good on both of them, sure, but, he’d seen you relax more and more as you got used to him. At heart, you were a bashful thing and took quite a bit of time and patience. He adored it, adored you.

You hovered over Shouta, pressing your petal-soft lips against his own. His hands, all calluses, and scars, wrapped around your thighs in their own foreplay. You stuttered a moan into his mouth which he drank greedily. Fuck his exhaustion, taking you in made him feel more alive than any cup of coffee or adrenaline rush would.

Slowly, you positioned yourself above Shouta’s half-drooling mouth. Your face was flushed, eyes trying to look anywhere other than at the man between your thighs. There was clear anxiety in how you were shifting and tensing. Definitely turned on, but a bit unsure. 

“Kitten, do you want to keep going?” Shouta asked softly. As much as he wanted this, he was well aware that for you, this was a fairly vulnerable position on a good day. Sometimes, being this exposed made you a bit too skittish to have a good time. 

“N-no, it’s okay,” You reached down to run a hand through his hair, pulling it fully from its tie. “Ya’ know, I just get nervous.”

You give him a soft smile, one that’s full of trust and love that took months to years of love to foster and grow. And now? It was mirrored so well between the two of you. 

God he loved you. He loved it. He loved you.  

Shouta wrapped his arms securely around your waist, hands digging into the plush bits above your hips. It was his wordless reply, positioning you perfectly to ride his face. 

Shouta moved a hand to your soft stomach, gently rubbing a thumb lower and lower. You shuddered, almost grinding down onto Shouta’s waiting mouth. He prevents you, holding you up to tease you just the slightest bit.

You huff above him, but it quickly dissolves into a tremor-filled moan as Shouta’s thumb slowly traced as the velvet of your folds. 

He circled your clit, moving to give it a few slow circles. He could literally watch the wetness begin to pool around your cunt. 

He couldn’t help himself.

The muscles in his thick arms tensed, dragging your thighs down to rest squarely on either side of his face. Your pussy rested firmly against his mouth, weeping. 

You cried out above him, steadying yourself on the headboard.

The smell of you was all around him. God, he could hardly breathe but he could hardly fucking care. Your cunt was the place he wanted to drown, die, and be at peace in.

He gave you a lick from cunt to clit with the flat of his tongue, trying to taste all of you in one go. You tightened your thighs around his head, moaning and resting your head against the wall, braced by an arm.

  “S-Shouta,” Oh, your voice was begging. It made his cock throb. “ More.”

Did he fucking heed your request.

With everything he had, your thighs were constricted by his grip and your pussy was fully suffocating him. 

Shouta licked into you, swirling his tongue at your entrance. He sucked at your clit, hard, and proceeded to roughly drag you down when you reflexively lifted your hips away from his mouth. Shouta worked his lips against your cunt and clit with vigor. He could feel the way your slick wetted his facial hair and clung to his cheeks. Your thighs were dampening with sweat and arousal and Shouta was fucking drowning in it.  

He gave a particularly harsh suck to your clit, causing you to bounce upwards with a cracking shriek before Shouta dragged you back down again. You bore down on him, panting so sweetly above him.

He pulled away from your pussy for only a moment, “Touch your tits for me, kitten.”

Your hands shakily slid towards your chest, tweaking at your own nipples as soft moans spilled from your kiss-bruised lips. 

Shouta took the opportunity to bite and suck at your inner thighs, leaving sweet little marks in his wake. One of his hands went to roughly palm at your ass, giving it a quick slap in the process. Your hips stuttered, then fully ground down on Shouta’s tongue. 

He took a spare moment to splay one of your thighs a little bit wider for balance, allowing him to move his own arms. He’d rub the soreness out of it tomorrow, gladly. He removed his mouth from you for just a moment to take a few deep breaths, before slowly crooking a finger into you. You shook with each moment, thighs twitching around Shouta’s face. He fully plunged the finger in, bringing a soft gasp tumbling from you. He smirked against your cunt, tongue fully attending to your clit. You were slowly starting to descend into obscenities and pleads.

“ P-please, Shouta!” You wept out, all for him, just for him. He revels in it. “ M-more!”

He obliged without thought.

Shouta spelled sweet nothings on your clit at a brutal pace. He can’t help teasing you just a little by not fully crooking his fingers just right. This earns him a desperate whine from you and a delicious squeeze of your thighs from around his skull. His ability to breathe is definitely being compromised, but god if he ever wanted it back. Suffocating on your cunt was his goddamn sacred rite and he’d be damned not to do so perfectly. 

“S-Shou’,” You stuttered out from on top of him, one of your hands fisting in his hair and forcing him deeper into your pussy still. Shouta has no doubt your face is flushed and damp with sweat. “ Please—”

Maybe on a different day, Shouta would tease and make you beg for it. But, not that day. On that day, he wanted nothing more than for you to cum on his face.

He repositioned his fingers, suddenly and harshly curling them against that particular, perfect spot in your pussy. You let out a sharp moan, bearing down on him. 

“ Fuck, Shouta!” You breathed harshly, crying out with each lick and suck. 

Shouta drilled the spot inside of you, feeling slick practically pour down onto his face. God. He adored you. 

“I-I’m close—” Your voice was cut by your cry as Shouta gave you a particularly harsh suck to your clit. 

He already knew. Your pussy was fluttering and tightening around his fingers. 

Shouta free around tugged you down the hardest and harshest he could. You were smothering him, and holy fuck he loved it. Loud squelching sounds and his own breathing were all Shouta could hear as he brought you to a tumbling orgasm.

You screamed his name, so prettily, so well , on your lips and your hips stuttered and faltered against his face. The hand that wasn’t finger fucking you senseless helped prop you up as your muscles spasmed. 

Your hands had flown to your mouth, judging by the muffled nature of your cries of adoration. It was a habit of yours Shouta was trying to help you break, carefully. He gave your ass a sharp smack as you were coming down from your orgasm. Your hands quickly came down your face and instead intertwined with Shouta’s messy hair.

Shouta refused to let up on your cunt. You were twitched around him, moans coming out as broken babbles. His fingers drove into you and his tongue flicked at your clit, hoping to draw a second orgasm from you.

“S-Shouta!” Oh, Shouta loved how broken and hoarse your voice was. “T-too much!”

Shouta stopped abruptly, pulling his fingers from you and allowing you to move and rest.

You moved to straddle Shouta’s waist and god were you a sight.

Your hair was messy, frizzed, and wild with your own pulling in ecstasy. Your face was thoroughly flushed, a few tears coming from the corners of your eyes. Shouta could even see your thighs glistened with slick and his own spit. 

Shouta propped himself up to sit (somewhat), glancing at his wet fingers.

“Open your mouth, kitten,” It was a soft order, but you obliged nonetheless. You opened with your tongue just a bit out, eyes wanting.

Shouta gently grabbed your jaw, hooking a finger inside your mouth so you weren’t able to close it. His wet fingers slipped in, smearing your juices across your tongue. 

You closed around them, sucking weakly in your post-orgasmic state. Shouta could clearly see your exhaustion, and his own was creeping back up on him, albeit slowly.

He withdrew his fingers and hand, voice low, “Swallow like a good girl.”

You nodded, eagerly complying. Shouta watched the gentle bob of your throat.

“Oh, kitten, ” Shouta praised you with a voice like honey. “You did so well.”

You shifted to sit on his hips, wet cunt over his straining, boxer-covered hard-on. You leaned to kiss Shouta softly. You lick into his mouth to taste yourself, shuddering against him. 

God, he really loved you. 

“You too tired for anymore, kitten?” Shouta cupped your face as he drew away. 

You gave him a soft laugh, pressing your smooth cheek into his scarred, callous hands, “I should be asking you that.”

“My dick is currently rock hard from drowning in you, so you could say I’m not too tired right now.” Shouta purred as you melted against him, straddling him fully and arching your back the slightest bit. You were such a good kitten for him. 

You pressed soft kisses into Shouta’s neck, nipping his jaw, “You could fuck my face? Get me as messy as you like?”

As much as thinking about your fucked out, fucked up face got Shouta leaking, he wasn’t in that particular mood. Another night.

“Sit on my cock, kitten,” Shouta turned to kiss your temple, hands pushing and pulling at your waist.

You drew away, giving him a bit of a concerned look, “Shou’ I don’t know if I have that in me.”

Shouta shook his head, dropping his voice even lower, “I’ll be doing all the work, kitten. Promise.”

You still looked anxious, unable to meet Shouta’s eyes. Sometimes, you froze up like this, in intimate moments. You spun in your head with only fear.

“(Y/N),” Shouta called you with your name, pulling you from your worries. You met his eyes. “We can stop if you’re uncomfortable, it’s alright.”

“No, no,” You shook your head. “ I’m genuinely afraid my legs will give out. I feel all jello-ish right now.”

You laughed softly, Shouta squeezing your hips.

“Oh, kitten,” Shouta chuckled himself, thumbs rubbing soft circles against your skin. “ I said I’ll be doing all the work. You can be a good cocksleeve for me, hm?”

You audibly choked, then nodded. Shouta just hummed laughter, watching you squirm for him.

“Be a good girl and sit on my cock then,” Shouta lowered his gaze at you.

You put yourself more upright, grabbing his cock in a soft grip. Shouta was rock hard from eating you out, angry and red. You stroked him a few times, spitting on the head and slicking him down. You lined him up to your dripping cunt, shaking legs raising to pull in his cock so beautifully.

Shouta was big and you visibly felt it as you sank down on him. Your eyes fluttered and your body shook as he filled you up. 

Both of you were breathing in puffs, Shouta growling as you bottomed out. He smoothed a hand over your stomach as your body twitched. Shouta’s breath hitches as he swears he can feel his cock through your stomach. 

He gripped the side of your body, fingers digging into the flesh and fat, and with abandon and the strength of thighs, he fucked up into you. 

You nearly screeched as he did, hands going to Shouta’s torso for purchase. You screamed exclamatives as Shouta’s cock so perfectly filled you up. Your cunt was hot and gooey around him and Shouta knew he wasn’t going to last too long.

Your body bounced with his, your expression twisting as one of your own hands went to rub your clit. Particularly hard, Shouta slammed up into you and pushed your hips to meet him. 

“ Kitten,” He growled, repeating the motion, but slower. “Don’t you fucking dare touch yourself.”

You nodded hastily, moving your hand, dissolving into soft pleads for Shouta to keep fucking moving.

He made good on his word to do all the work.

Shouta’s pace sped up, wet squelches filling the room. You were moaning in tandem with each thrust, both getting closer and closer to climax. 

Finally, Shouta relented and massaged your clit with his thumb, watching your expression break for him. Your body sagged, face to Shouta’s neck, fanning sweet breath sticky to his skin.

“Cum on my cock, kitten,” Shouta nearly fucking commanded you to. You shook for a moment, grinding down as Shouta fucked you so well. You clenched so beautifully on his cock, sobbing in relief as Shouta’s thumb moved faster, allowing you to tumble over the edge of your peak.

Shouta couldn’t hold back. He was relentless in the way he grabbed your hips and fucked you. He bruised your cervix as he reached his own climax, nails digging into the meat of your hips as he growled out your name. 

His cum filled you up so nicely as he fucked you through his own orgasm. You were nearly sobbing into his neck, hands fisting into his knotted hair, begging for a reprieve. Shouta slowed, a hand pushing your heaving chest up so he could see you better.

You sat so divinely on his cock. You were thoroughly red, thoroughly bitten, and bruised up just right. Your eyes were glassy and your lips parted.

Shouta gave one more, weaker, thrust up into you.

You hissed, letting out a shaking breath, “ S-Shouta—”

Oh, you were spent. And, so was he. 

He gently pulled you off his cock, watching your slick and his cum coat your thighs. Part of him wanted to lap it up and tongue fuck you again , but he was much more inclined to pull you to his chest.

You immediately tangled your legs together, pressing your face into his chest. You half-heartedly groaned into his chest, “I thought you said you were tired.”

“I was,” Shouta pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Still am.”

You snorted out a laugh and tried to move even closer. Shouta wrapped his arms around you, squeezing before moving off the bed. You whined, but he just tsked.

He returned with a soft, wet towel. He gently cleaned you, pressing a kiss or two to your oversensitive thighs and sweat-slick tummy.

Finally, he slid in with you, both of you somewhat clean and more than sated. 

You were already half dozing as Shouta pulled you into him, running a hand through your hair. 

He truly adored you and would show you, time and time again, exhausted or not.  

[primergon]

Hello! I’m Vic and I was wondering about a possible matchup!

I’m 24, afab non-binary, ENFP, 5’11, and straight (I think lmao)

Personality wise, I’d definitely describe myself as very chaotic and all over the place-don’t give me any logistic-heavy jobs, or we’ll both have a bad time. I’m an artist and I take great pleasure in telling stories and creating, especially if what I make can brighten someone’s day.

I value kindness very highly and I’m fiercely protective of the people I love, sometimes at the cost of my well being (but I’m working on that) I’ve been told that I have a very strong moral compass, but that can turn into black and white thinking at times. I’m definitely a work in progress as a person, but that’s okay! I’m definitely a very emotional person, and sometimes my feelings control me more than I control them.

Other than art, I love many topics, such as zoology, natural history, science communication, and translation with a dash of linguistics sprinkled in. I love spending time with both animals and the humans I love, but I’m not opposed to a quiet evening in. I’d generally describe myself as an ambivert. I really value active listeners and people who return the energy I give to them. I love when the person I’m talking to and I can bounce ideas off of each other. Also, I’m very physically affectionate, give me a chance and I WILL smother you with hugs. I hope this is enough to go off of!! Thank you!

Hello Vic! I hope you're well :) Thanks for asking and sorry for the wait ! Sadly I didn't finish cyberverse and so I'm not well acquainted with their characters. So I hope you don't mind if I give you two IDW matchups to make up for it <3 I think I'll match you up with Prowl and Rung from IDW / MTMTE!

PROWL IDW

01| Opposites attract is a questionable phrase. That was until Prowl met you. There was this natural curiosity that drew him to you, no matter how much he tries to deny it. Finally, Prowl gave in and realised that you both complete one another. All this time Prowl's been looking for a sense of balance, and he found it in the way you smiled at him.

02| Prowl is rational to the point of what most would call cruel. He's overly critical of everything and this thinking pattern can sometimes frustrate him. You were like a way out of a very dark room, and even if he doesn't say it often, he appreciates your creative and empathic way of thinking. While his focus is singular: intense and deep, yours is broad: extending to numerous possibilities that allow him to better achieve his goals. He thinks highly of you, knowing that even if he won't say it out loud, he has a lot to learn from you.

03| One of the things that he loves about you is your kindness. The idea that your generosity extends to someone like him, warms his spark. He knows he's difficult. In the early stages of your relationship, Prowl struggled to understand what’s going on and how to behave. Yet you made him want to try, and Primus knows he did. Prowl may be subtle about his affections, but you know he cares. From the way, you'd always wake up from your accidental nap by your desk with a blanket around you to the way Prowl always insists on taking you everywhere in his cab.

04| While you help Prowl be kinder to those around him, he helps you learn how to be kinder to yourself. He knows your generosity can sometimes drain you, especially when you're still learning how to put yourself first. If you don't have the strength to say no, Prowl is always more than happy and ready to say it for you. One time you were overwhelmed by the crowd trying to talk with you at Maccadams. It's late and your social battery was running low. You desperately needed a way out of Blurr's ecstatic chatter. Prowl had immediately whisked you away and drove you home, not before scolding the others for bothering his partner. It was endearing, even if everyone showed up at your bar the next day to apologize.

05| Arguments would sometimes arise between you and Prowl and whenever it does, it's usually because you don't agree to his methods. Your heart knows it's not right, yet nearly everything Prowl does is morally questionable. It takes time to find a common ground, especially between two people who are respectively sentimental and detached. Yet you always do. Always. It's because as arrogant and hard-headed Prowl is, he's also versatile and persevering. He doesn't care if it'll take you days or even weeks to find a win-win solution. For the first time in a long time, Prowl is making room for another person in his life. These days it's never about what he wants, it's rather about what you both want. As difficult as it can get, he has never felt happier.

06| Prowl is very dense when it comes to physical affection. One time you hold your hand out to him and he placed a data pad on top of it. He's not big on public displays of affection, Primus knows the moment Prowl hugs you at work is the day Unicron decides to wake up from his millennia-old nap. Yet in private, your affection is infectious enough to make him almost clingy. He would spoon you while you sleep or even hold your hand when he's having his morning Energon. You never question him about it knowing he'll deny even liking it, but it's nice to see someone who flips tables for a living be this gentle with you.

IDW RUNG

01| The first person to truly welcome you aboard the Lost Light was Rung. In the beginning, he was hesitant to let your relationship blossom into anything other than professional. Yet he can't deny his attraction. Lately, he loves watching you throw your head back to laugh at one of Swerve's jokes, and he finds himself wondering how your hands would feel against his. For the first time in a while, Rung wants to be a little selfish. Surely, it won't hurt to ask you out for dinner in his quarters. Looking back, he thinks it's one of the best decisions he's ever made.

02| He was moved by the fierce love you had for your friends. Rung fell in love with your courage in defending those you care about( you were ready to fight Sunder head-on for him.) While your kindness was admirable, he reminds you to take care of yourself better. He helps you put yourself first. " You won't be any good to anyone hurt my dear."

03| Rung is sensitive, thoughtful, and idealistic, and prefers relationships that help him grow and develop. He seeks deep and meaningful connections and strives to understand what drives the people he cares about and help them be their best selves. Even if it takes a little longer for Rung to warm up and let someone in, he is very focused on building that emotional connection with you. While he helps you keep your emotions in check you gave him an outlet to express his.

04| Your relationship has great potential for a close and caring connection. You and Rung share many commonalities in how you think and approach life. You both have a compassionate and idealistic nature, and even if you disagree on some things, you'll likely feel that when it comes to the important stuff, you're on the same page. It makes conversations interesting and never boring, and it keeps arguments to a minimum. When it comes to Rung as a partner, there's always a solution to everything.

05 | Rung respects your personal space and understands that you need time for yourself. Often he'll let you into his office so you can lounge on his couch while he assembles his latest model of ships, the silence was more than comforting for the two of you. He'd listen fondly to your work and engage in conversations, taking genuine in your story. Rung finds it endearing when you ramble on about science and communication, jumping from one topic to one another, your excitement is enough to make him fall for you all over again.

06 | Affection is something Rung desperately needs. Often people only come to him because they need something. He was a giver who never asks for anything in return, and sometimes, it gets lonely. Therefore he appreciates how expressive you are with your love. He gets flustered from all the kisses and hugs you give him, and he feels giddy like a young mech whenever you go to hold his hand in public. ( Whirl would always joke about " no pre-marital hand-holding " which would fluster him even more. ) Rung's faceplates would always heat up, his bashful expression enough to make you want to smother him even more. He retaliates by opening his glasses to reveal his optics, it's safe to say that you were always stunned silent at their beauty.

I hope you enjoyed this Vic ! xx

[ggukkiedae]

❝𝕀𝕟 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕠𝕡❞

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜:

⇢ Episodes 3-4

𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜:

⇢ conversations written in italics are spoken in english. requests and feedback are highly appreciated!

⇢ script form (name: lines) are the interviews

EPISODE 3

she was shown tucked under her purple blanket still sleeping while the others were starting to wake up

while jin makes his way to the upper house’s kitchen, she slowly gets up and checks her phone

“11? already?”

the next cut you see is of her in lounge shorts and a big shirt instead of her pajama set waddling her way to yoongi and attaching herself to his side

“oppas,” she wrapped her arms around his waist, tucking herself under his arm, “how do you guys have so much energy right now”

“aigoo, our makdungie just woke up,” seokjin cooed while hoseok just squished her cheeks in an attempt to help her regain her senses

“wake yourself up, princess, then come help me with ingredients” “okay”

she helps yoongi with the vegetables, him making sure to take the onions away from her

she was giggling with hoseok at yoongi’s face when he was cutting up onions

hoseok had her in a back hug with his chin on her head while yoongi stirred the ingredients together. her job, despite being the best cook in bangtan, was adding the cheese

miya: i’m actually pretty good with meals, but if i don’t cook alone, the oppas usually make me do the minimum. something about it being dangerous?

the older members passed her off to jungkook as soon as he got there

aaaaand the two maknaes disappeared

a clip of them talking while walking towards everyone else played. their conversation was hushed, though, and the background music just played over it. the subtitles read “maknaes are quiet in the morning”

she headed over to the grass in front of the main house where she started doing stretches. she did basic stretches then went on to a few more advanced ones

namjoon saw her from a distance

“yoon-ah, are you okay over there?” “i’m okay!”

after her stretches she just ended up lying on the grass and scrolling through her phone

eventually she just plays music and puts her phone in a safe spot then entered the trampoline

she shook her head amusedly when she saw jungkook, taehyung, and hoseok jogging past her

she starts hopping around the trampoline to build up momentum and, next thing you know, she’s practicing different gymnastics tricks

you don’t see her for a while

she’s next shown in the main house sitting next to yoongi, excitedly bouncing in place while opening a box

“i can make makeup! oppa, look!”

the editors replayed the clip, emphasizing on how all four boys in the room turned to her

she excitedly took stuff out and started setting up while animatedly telling the boys about everything she could grab a hold of

yoongi was just nodding and humming in response every now and then while the other three did the same but while doing their own activities

until she eventually became way too focused to talk

around the time jungkook and taehyung are boxing each other, she turned to jimin

“oppa, sit still!”

and she places something on his lips with a grin. it was lip gloss with pink glitters

“ooooh it looks nice” jimin poked at his lips while checking his face in his phone

“i should sell these,” she laughed and closed the containers

then she heads off somewhere with the box holding all the cosmetics

the next clip of her is when it’s raining. she’s sitting on the roofed area of the deck on the boathouse with her guitar and a notebook. she’s just mindlessly playing the guitar while watching the rain

miya: there was something calming about watching the rain hit the water… i guess i just don’t see it too often nowadays. not much in the past few years, actually

she’s next seen when yoongi stops by to bring her with him over to come with him to get his recording equipment

“we’re making a theme song?” “looks like it.”

she just laughs and follows him after setting her guitar and notebook down in her room

she’s in giggles when namjoon’s recording “in the soop” and hoseok’s kinda just coddling her and laughing with her

she’s lying down on the floor while jungkook was building toys. hoseok comes in and tosses them both a pair of sweatpants and calls them for food. she could smell the food when she opened the door.

“pajeoooooooooon!”

she comes running to the tarp and shouting excitedly. the older members laugh fondly

you can see her and jungkook cheers makgeolli a few times on the side

she smiles at taehyung when they’re telling him he can flip the pajeon next “oppa fighting!”

the steam from the soup goes towards her face and she scrunches up her nose “it’s so humid wait”

she applauds when taehyung successfully flipped the pajeon and when jungkook did the same

“can i cook beef tomorrow?” and yoongi just looks at her “you and me in the kitchen tomorrow” and she just sits back with a satisfied smile

they’re all singing and she’s giggling on the side “you guys sound like drunk ahjussis”

somehow she’s curled up on hoseok’s lap all giggly and he looks at her “our makdungie is tipsy from the looks of it”

EPISODE 4

at the start of the episode you can see her curled up in yoongi’s side and playing a game on her phone

“how much makgeolli did hobi sneak you to make you tipsy?” “honestly, oppa, i don’t know”

the next you see her, she and jungkook are in his room, a bottle of soju between them, and just talking

“you know, i didn’t expect that we’d be this close at first”

yoonmi laughed at his statement “neither did i. you came and were kinda scary”

“it was completely new to me having a girl around,” he defended himself while pouring them another shot each, “but i found my best friend that way”

they clinked their shot glasses together and downed their current shots

“it’s a little funny, isn’t it?” she asked him

“what is?” “the fact that we became best friends. most guys your age at the time would have found it weird hanging out with a little girl”

he scoffed “i’m different! besides, i think it’s because the hyungs said it takes a while to get close to you, and i wanted to be the fastest”

she poured them their next shots “your competitive streak never died down”

they took their shots and sat in silence for a little bit just letting their music play from jungkook’s phone

the captions read “the two maknaes are communicating through the silence” while they just sat there and drank their soju

“hey, have i ever thanked you?” she asked all of a sudden

he raised an eyebrow at her, “for what?”

“everything,” she laughed, “taking care of me, being on my side, being someone i can talk to”

“many times, yeah,” he chuckled “you do the same thing for me, anyway. that’s why we’re best friends, remember?”

“then why do you always toss me around like a doll” “you look like a doll, face it”

she laughed while pouring them the last of the soju

“cheers to best friends and being bangtan’s maknaes,” she held her shot glass up “sleepover today?”

he laughed and clinked their glasses again “sleepover any time”

miya: ggukoo oppa, we’ve been friends since we were kids. we grew up together, so i guess we understand each other a lot? sometimes we have deep talks, sometimes we sit in silence. sometimes we fight, and sometimes we team up against the other oppas.

jungkook: i think people don’t understand that mimi and i have a deeper kind of dynamic rather than just the childish image we usually have together on screen. us talking like this is something we do a lot, and it brings us both a lot of comfort. clarity, too

then there’s a mini montage of them talking, but their words are muted and music played over them. there are bits of them laughing, drinking, and maybe letting out a tear or two before they just got into jungkook’s bed to go to sleep

when taehyung goes to the boathouse to sail his rc boat, he checks on them. the editors put a clip of jungkook and yoonmi sleeping with the caption “maknae siblings are tired from talking until 4am”

a while passes, and there’s a clip of jungkook sitting up in bed, yawning and rubbing the back of his head. he looks around the room a little before shaking yoonmi awake

“hmm?” “come with me to the main house” “okay”

the scene cuts and you next see them in the main house, jungkook working on his glider with yoonmi lying down next to him, her head on his lap and still half-asleep while namjoon and jungkook talk

“sleep late, yoon-ah?” “ggukoo oppa and i stayed up until four i think”

her mumbling was slightly incoherent, though and namjoon just laughed and patted her head

when he gives up on the glider, his hand rests on yoonmi’s head, lightly massaging for a bit before transferring her head to namjoon’s lap and heading to cook

“joonie oppa?” “hmm?” “are you reading?” “yeah, why?” “could you read out loud?”

namjoon’s just reading stuff out loud while she’s listening intently to every word

namjoon and taehyung headed up to the upper house first while she sat by the kitchen and waited for jungkook to finish what he was cooking

she opened her mouth as he turned around, just in time for him to pop a piece into her mouth “let’s go”

she settled into taehyung’s side and slowly began to eat after thanking the older members for the food. yoongi chuckled at her sleepy demeanor

“you’re taking a while to wake up today, princess” “ggukoo oppa and i had soju before sleeping”

“i like the melon,” she noted, making taehyung grin at her and nuzzle his forehead against the top of her head

she took over drying the dishes for namjoon and kissed him on the cheek “stay safe on the way back, oppa” “you, too”

she ended up cleaning up with jimin, humming a little song. she was telling him about the dream she had where they all performed live again. once they finished, she went off to sit with hoseok and read while he customized his shoes

“oppa, if it turns out good, you’re going to have to make one for me, too!” “ooooh matching shoes? you’ve got it”

jimin came and started customizing his shoes as well after briefly petting her hair

she went inside so jimin could use her chair and sat next to taehyung who pulled her into his lap. he rested his chin on her shoulder while she read

when it came to packing up, she was muttering to herself while folding things into her carrier “should i have done more? i feel like i was too boring… oh well”

jimin walked into her room and leaned against the door frame

“need help, aegi?” “... yes, please” he helped her carry the bag with her clothes and the bag with her recording and producing equipment while she carried her guitar out

she ended up playing a vr game with jungkook where they had to break boxes to the rhythm of songs

there was a lot of giggling and laughter while they tried to distract each other with jimin on her side and taehyung on jungkook’s side

“ggukoo oppa’s cheating!” “uh huh, get your revenge later, let’s eat first”

she pouted at seokjin’s words but took of the vr goggles and skipped outside

“thank you for the food!” and she digs into her jjapaguri

she laughed at the reactions part until hoseok turned to her “why are you laughing? you can’t hide it the most!”

“only to you guys! but to everyone else, i can fake it”

she put her bags and guitar into the car yoongi drove and was surprised when yoongi told her to her to get in shotgun. she did and saw seokjin walking towards them and the car in front driving off

“pretend you’re asleep, princess”

she quickly closed her eyes and faced yoongi, struggling to hold in her laughter when she hear seokjin trying to open the door

she just lost it when yoongi drove off