#butterfly Reader

[s0nia246]

Welcome back to my 2am thoughts of Moth Shig x Butterfly Reader. Today where here to talk about Courtship displays between Moth and Butterfly hybrids.

But before we start I wanted to add more to my last post on the two:

Butterfly Y/N could stumble upon Tomura during their migration journey. They could find him in a weakened state, injured or separated from his own kind, and feeling a sense of compassion, they decide to offer him aid and companionship.( The real reason is he's hot, fuzzy, and warm)

Anyway back to Courting display. Courtship displays in Moth x Butterfly hybrids.

Courtship Displays: During the mating season, these hybrids engage in captivating courtship displays that combine elements from both moths and butterflies. They may perform intricate dances in the air, showcasing their colorful wings while emitting pheromones to attract potential mates. These displays often involve a delicate balance of grace and subtle fluttering movements, creating a mesmerizing spectacle.

Courtship displays in Moth x Butterfly hybrids are elaborate rituals performed by individuals seeking a mate. These displays serve multiple purposes, including attracting potential partners, establishing dominance, and signaling readiness for reproduction. Here are some additional details about courtship displays in these hybrids:

1. Wing Movements: The hybrids showcase their colorful and patterned wings during courtship displays. They engage in graceful flights, combining elegant gliding movements with agile flutters. Their wings create mesmerizing patterns as they twist, turn, and hover in the air.

2. Pheromone Release: Similar to moths, Moth and Butterfly hybrids emit pheromones to communicate their availability and desirability to potential mates. These chemical signals are often released by specialized scent glands located on the wings or the body. The pheromones can travel through the air, attracting individuals of the opposite sex from a distance.

3. Synchronized Dancing: The hybrids may engage in synchronized dances as part of their courtship display. They perform coordinated movements in the air, spiraling around each other and mirroring their partner's actions. These dances can be complex and involve precise timing and spatial awareness.

4. Vocalizations: In some cases, moth and butterfly hybrids may produce unique sounds during courtship displays. These sounds can range from soft vibrations or humming to delicate clicks or chirps. Vocalizations add an auditory element to the display, enhancing the overall sensory experience for potential mates.

5. Visual Signals: The hybrids utilize a combination of colors, patterns, and movements to attract and impress potential partners. They may open and close their wings in a rhythmic manner, revealing vibrant hues and intricate designs. Some hybrids might also possess iridescent scales that reflect light, creating a dazzling visual display.

6. Mate Selection: During courtship displays, both males and females assess potential mates based on various factors. These may include the quality of the display, the vibrancy of the wings, the strength and agility exhibited during flight, and the overall health and condition of the individual. Mates with the most impressive displays or the most desirable traits are more likely to be chosen.

7. Individual Variation: Just like in nature, courtship displays can vary among Moth and Butterfly hybrids. Different hybrids may have unique variations in their displays, incorporating elements from their specific genetic makeup and environmental influences. This individual variation adds diversity to the species and can lead to further hybridization.

Courtship displays are not only a means of attracting mates but also a way for hybrids to demonstrate their genetic fitness and compatibility. These displays showcase the beauty, agility, and adaptability of Moths and Butterflies hybrids, captivating observers with their enchanting performances.

Thank you and good night.

[seiwas]

you wear katsuki’s clothes to bed.

among all your cotton and silk pajamas, you prefer the thinning fabric of his faded tees. there are holes in some of them, just a few more seams away from their undoing as they fit far too large on you—but that’s why you love them.

they’re comfy and worn; lived in with love from the man that you love. when katsuki is gone for days or weeks at a time, you find his warmth intertwined within the threads of his t-shirts. when the fabric presses against your back, the bed doesn’t feel nearly as empty as it is.

(though it can never replace him. nothing can, you fear.)

“hoggin’ all my shirts,” he tuts, but you know it means nothing. the roll of white fabric is neatly folded unto itself, its crisp corners unfurling once handed over.

you giggle, shaking off its folds and fitting the hem right over your head. from the corner of your eye, you see katsuki’s gaze, watching you wrangle the fabric over you as the towel wrapped around your body slowly drops to the floor.

he turns away then, a little too quickly, a little too abruptly. if you look at him now, you’re sure you’ll find flushed cheeks and crimson eyes burning in shame for wanting you so inopportunely.

“guess you’ll just have to take me with it then.”

[tojisun]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8ByaKXv/

BIKER!SIMON BIKER!SIMON OMG OMG THIS IS SO HIM PLS IM ACTUALLY SOBBING CAUSE I KNOW HE WOULD DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS😭

IM???? LOSING MY MIND???? THIS IS THE SWEETEST IM ACTUALLY SCREAMING the fact that this is the same couple with the handsy backpack is making me vibrate because theyre so fucking cute!!!!!

the helmet bump n then the helmet kiss- oh im so unwell. no yea this is soooo biker!simon

the way it was a spur of the moment until simon sees your wide eyes from behind the helmet, watching him with so much reverence that he realizes you love this :(( so he does it more and does it often.

simon pulls you in through your belt loop, biting his smile at seeing the way you have to tilt your head up, and he knows that you do it so you can see him from behind the helmet but he can’t help but interpret it as you asking for a kiss.

so he does: he bends forward and bumps your helmets together, nuzzling softly like a bunny-kiss, until laughter finally slips from his lips at seeing you blinking at him dazedly. confused at first, then later becoming eager.

you raise your arm to keep holding onto him, not wanting to let go, and simon coos as he repeats the action, this time tapping the mouth of his helmet on yours. he is addicted to the way your face brightens up behind your visor, how your eyes crinkle as you giggle at your helmets kissing.

yeah. this is simon’s favourite thing now.

the first time he does it in front of his friends, he hears kyle sigh and watches as johnny groans before walking away, stomping theatrically as he curses in scottish. simon’s been with johnny enough to know that he’s telling them how worse you and simon have gotten; how he’s sure that simon will never stop ‘kissing’ you now.

simon flips him off even though he’s right.

because if simon couldn’t stop kissing you when you two are off-road, what more now when he’s got you as his little, handsy backpack?

-

from: soap

> But you know I was just joking right? Because I was. You two are cute.

to: soap

We know. <

aww thank u johnny!! <

That was from my girl. <

from: soap

> I could tell. You’re not that sweet to me.

to: soap

Fuck off. <

[mrsoharaa]

Imagining Miguel going through Gabriella's teen years. Being an "overprotective" dad the moment she goes on a date!

You, were obviously okay with it, knowing she's just entering her ripe ol' age of curiosity and teenage normalcy of dating. But for Miguel. That was an entirely different aspect.

The sound of Gabriella's bedroom closes almost too enthusiastically, blaring and alarming everyone (in which case, was just only you and her at the moment, thus Miguel being away at work) in the cozy home of her excitement and thrill for her date tonight.

When you contently hum to yourself, readying dinner for the three of you, you can hear her weighted footsteps of joy prance through into the dining room/kitchen vicinity. A lifted giggle spilling from her lips as she gazes over her phone.

You turn to meet your daughters giddy expression, acknowledging that familiar delight and glee sprawl all over that gleaming face.

"Someone's excited for tonight" you smile happily at your grinning little bundle of joy (or at least, that's what you still call her since she is technically still your baby). Gabriella places her phone down for a second, practically hopping and throttling with pure exhilaration and eager.

"I really am mama! tonight is going to be so much fun! he's taking me out to that new nice restaurant that just opened up down the street! you know, the one by that one cafe you really like?! across the street from them!" She announces with pure elation, angling her phone as she glances through the reflection of her device to fix the little gorgeous strands of familiar dark mahogany from her adoring face.

"Oh lovely! sounds like fun! do you want me to put away some food for you later, mija?" you smile at her. ("Daughter")

"Sure, thank you mami!" she excitedly whips back.

The sound of a warping buzz elicits from the living room, a hulking, brooding stature of a 6'9 suited man, shuffles his self through the vast yellow portal that immediately dissipates behind him the moment he steps into the living space.

A weighted sigh expels from behind the dark maroon and navy mask that hid his beautiful face. He retracts his stiff shoulders, murmuring something under hefty grumbles. His attention quickly turns to your direction, noting the cutely attired and heavily anticipated daughter sitting onto one of the stools by the kitchen's island.

He dissipates his mask, thick brows raised in curiosity and confusion, heavy, tired lids of ruby stroll back onto you.

"¿Qué pasa aquí?" he tilts his head, still rotating his aching shoulders to try to rid of the pulsing, nagging weight pinching at his muscles from a long strenuous day. ("What's going on here?")

"Our daughter has a date tonight honey, isn't that exciting?" you grin coyly at the frowning man looming over next to Gabriella.

"She — what?!" Miguel's scowl quickly qwhips over to his daughter, watching her roll her eyes and head with a low giddy sigh.

"I already told you papa, remember? yesterday? before you dropped me off at school?" Gabriella twirls her phone in her hand, watching her fathers face twist with mixed emotions. Particularly one, to be precised — disapproval.

"I don't recall having this conversation with you, Gabriella" he states dryly, uncertainty clinging to his gruff voice.

You turn in his direction, eyeing him for his sudden disapproving tone.

"Yeah, I did! I told you right as you pulled into the schools front parking lot! you really have that bad of a memory dad?" Gabriella shrugs, watching her father glare over at you. Noting the head tilt and stern eye contact the two of you shared.

He groans inwardly, annoyed profusely by the fact that his little girl is going on a date. That he, oh so never recollected on, hearing about.

"Who is he? where does he live? What's his phone number? Where are you two goi- Miguel" you chuckle lightly, fully facing his direction as you met with his furrowed gaze.

"...Right right" he sighs defeatedly, glimpsing back over to his beautiful child as he smiles more tender heartedly. Takes a step closer towards her and embraces her with long, warm open arms. Easily engulfing her into his taller stature, one hand nestled around her comfortably as the other brushes over her hair. Places a gentle kiss on top of her pretty tresses.

"Just...be safe for me mija, make sure he doesn't try kissing you" Miguel mumbles into her hair, Gabriella simply laughs as she returns a squeezing embrace back to her doting, grumpy father.

"Miguel" you warn once again with a lenient smile, the three of you chuckle in unison.

Gabriella pulls away "I promise I'll be so safe papa! I'll call you if anything happens, I promise!" she leans on her tip toes to give her father a soft peck to his right cheek, he rumbles a relaxed grumble.

"Esa es mi chica, ve a divertirte mija" he gives her another head kiss, feeling her reel from his embrace and rush out the door, waving to her loving parents. ("That's my girl, go have fun daughter")

The sound of the door slamming close grates through Miguels ears, the familiar same scowl from before returning back onto his churning face.

With your back facing him and your attention drawing back to your cooking, you could feel the searing burn of his dim eyes peer at the back of your head. A simple hum dwindles from your pursed, curled lips.

"So, she's dating now? since when?" he finally flushes the thickening air, leaning over the island, eyes strictly focused on you.

"She's a teenager Miggy, you have to let her go through these things" you insist, peppering the seasoned chicken breast in the bowl in front of you.

The sound of his teeth lowly ticks through the air, his retracted claws tapping amongst the marbled tile of the island he leaned over.

"She'll be fine my love, you and I both raised that little girl right...she knows how to defend herself" you peek over your shoulder to wave an irate Miguel one of your reassuring smiles. The very same one that always made his heart melt and feel at ease.

You can see the tensity of his body softly, hardly, unwind, his dim lidded irises softening to your tender gaze. He emits a long sigh.

"I know I know...I just...worry about her is all" he exhales, watching you take a step back and bend over to place the bowl into the oven.

A feeble giggle lilts off your lips, straightening yourself up and walking over to your overly exerted husband, you cup your hands onto his cheeks and brush your thumbs gingerly along the warm, supple flesh. A deeming smile weaving onto your cheeks.

"And that makes you such an exemplary father, baby" you softly cooed, feeling his head lean into your homely touch instantly. Almost purring to the welcoming feeling of your smooth skin caressing his hardened face.

"She'll be okay Miggy, I promise" you lift up onto your toes and place a soft kiss to his full lips, smirking as you feel him lean downward to keep his lips onto yours, growling lowly as he feels you pull away from his pursed, needy plush of skin.

"You remember what it was like when we were teenagers, don't you?" you coy, playing with the plump silken flesh that formed into that familiar pout you had grown to love and adore.

"How we use to sneak out of our parents houses at night to meet...take your fathers car to come pick me up and drive through the city after midnight...going on starry night dates and peaceful drive ins, before you became Spider-Man" your heart practically swoons through your fluttering chest from the recommencing loving memories flooding through your head.

Miguel nearly feels his heart thrashing violently against his chest, pupils dilating widely as you sigh dreamily.

"Wait — she's sneaking out of the house now? that I DON'T KNOW ABOUT?! SINCE WHEN?! ¡Oh, por el amor de Dios!" Miguel snarls, you burst into a fit of laughter, holding and pulling his face back down to meet your level. Carefully planting your head against his, as you continue to smooth his cheeks with your fingers. ("oh for fucks sake!")

"No no baby! of course not! I'm just saying!" you chuckle lightly, reeling him into your subtle massage amongst his face. His body relaxes, breaths steadying out as he lowers his enraged eyes, gently gazing down at you.

Hums at the supple touch of your hands slowly drifting down to his broad shoulders.

"She's going to be alright honey, you just have to trust her...trust me" you feel his weight slowly ease further into your touch, the pulling, tantalizing pressure of your fingers massaging at his stiff shoulders basking him in a trance of relaxation and tranquil. He sighs softly, leans forward to plant a sweet kiss onto your forehead, then your nose and finally your lips.

"I trust you...I trust the both of you more then anybody"

"I know you do Miggy...now come, let me help you relax, your shoulders feel very stiff and stagnant" you lull him into another kiss, giggling cunningly as you pull away and listening to him rumble another irritated grumble from your swaying motion from his lips.

A shorten, pitched yelp cranes from your lungs as you feel your body abruptly being pulled back to his body. Your own being hoisted and pinned against his, his arms wrapping your legs around his slim waist as he nuzzles into your chest, resting his chin onto the comforting mounds.

"Those can wait, seems like my wife wants to keep pulling away from my kisses...I think a punishment is in order, no?" he grins slyly, wickedly as he cups your rear with his large hands, adoring the upbringing fluster pooling into your cheeks.

"M-Miguel no! I have dinner to tend too!" you chirp with a giggle, feeling his wide hands playfully smack at your voluptuous bottom, quickly smoothing over the rounded clothed flesh. Leans up to kiss your chin.

"Dinner will be fine cariño...It won't take long anyways...maybe" he nuzzles beneath your chin, laughing at your adorable resistance to his cheeky advances.

[navybrat817]

Where Did the Time Go?

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You decide not to drink during game night, which leads to an interesting conversation with Bucky. Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: Light angst, tension, friends reconnecting, unrequited feelings (or so you think), slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) Previous Part of AU: We'll Always be Friends A/N: More Dreamboat and Butterfly from my Reconnect AU! ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren’t sure what exactly happened between dinner and now, but you decided that the fun game night wouldn’t include drinking. You hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since your meal. Even then, you were pretty sure you didn’t have much. Sharon brought out a bottle of wine before everyone finished eating and you took a sip of your glass out of obligation. If she noticed you didn’t finish your glass, she didn’t say anything, which you appreciated.

But you should’ve known that Bucky would catch on.

“Not drinking tonight, huh?” He asked as he took a seat beside you on the couch. Steve and Sam set up a game table and were already a couple of drinks in. So were Sharon and Natasha. You weren’t worried about them though. They could hold their liquor.

But can I hold my tongue if I drink? Or am I using that as an excuse?

“Not tonight,” you replied, holding up your cup of water. “Sticking with water.”

“You’re acting like we need a designated driver when we’re not going anywhere,” he joked, throwing his arm around behind the cushion, the same way he had at the dinner table. “Afraid I’ll kick your ass in Mario Kart if you get a little tipsy?” He asked, grinning when you smiled. “We can have a tournament? Just the two of us?”

“Hey, one of us might need to go on a liquor or snack run. You never know,” you said, setting your water on the table before you sank into the couch. “And it isn’t exactly a tournament if only two people are playing, is it?”

“It can be. We make our own rules,” he smiled as he moved a little closer. “Remember the time we had a tournament? We went to that shady looking liquor store after Sam spilled the last bottle of rum. The guy behind the counter had a bunch of clown masks.”

You laughed a little. How could you forget? “Yes! We had to open the living room window so we could breathe. And the cashier was actually a sweet guy, but you glued yourself to my side before that because you were certain the guy had bad intentions,” you said. Bucky and his protective streak made you feel important.

Until you weren’t.

Bucky must’ve noticed the change in your demeanor since he stopped chuckling. “Seriously though. Are you okay? Are you not feeling well?”

“I feel fine. I just don’t need to drink tonight,” you said, touched that he showed concern for you before a weird expression crossed his face. “What? Do I have something in my teeth?”

“No. You’re, um,” he tapped a finger on his knee as he tried to find the words. “There isn’t a specific reason you aren’t, is there? You're not…” he trailed off, but his eyes drifted long enough to your torso to fill in the blank.

You never understood the expression about eyes widening to the size of saucers until you experienced it just then. “Are you asking if I’m pregnant?” You whispered, careful not to speak any louder than that. The last thing you needed was the group questioning why Bucky asked such a question. “If so, the answer is NO.”

The sigh of relief Bucky let out, you weren’t sure what to make of it. “Sorry. I'm sorry. You don’t owe me an explanation for why you aren’t drinking. I just. I don't know why my mind went there.”

You couldn’t exactly tell him you're worried about getting plastered and revealing how you felt about him. Drunk confessions worked for some, but you didn’t think the odds were in your favor. “I still can’t believe you asked that,” you half teased, pointing at your stomach. “Not to mention, I haven’t been laid in ages. So, unless it happens via immaculate conception, that’s never going to be the case.”

The odd expression was back on Bucky’s face. What was his deal? “When was the last time you went on a date?” He asked with more interest than you expected.

“Months ago. Minimum,” you said, looking up at the ceiling as you tried to recall the exact day. “His name was Nick. We went on a few dates and he was nice enough, but he ended up getting serious with someone else. Haven’t gone on another date since.”

The clench in Bucky’s jaw almost made you smile. He had no reason to look so upset on your behalf. “I’m sorry. It’s his loss.”

“Don’t be. I’m kind of used to it,” you said with a nonchalant shrug.

“What the hell does that mean?” He asked, facing you on the couch and blocking the view of your friends at the table. “What exactly are you used to?”

Why does he sound upset? It's not like I’m not his girl.

“It means I’m used to guys not picking me,” you said honestly. As much as it hurt to think that way, saying it didn’t hurt as badly. “Think about it, Bucky. In all the time you’ve known me, when have guys ever flocked to me? When have you ever seen a guy take a chance on me when Natasha and Sharon were there? They haven’t and that’s just the way it is.”

“That’s bullshit. You’re perfect. And maybe people do see you, but you don’t see them,” he argued, quickly closing his mouth when he saw your expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“No, I think that’s exactly what you meant,” you said, sitting up to put some distance between the two of you as hurt filled his eyes. “I see just fine, thanks, but please enlighten me. Who saw me? Who did I overlook? I’d love an example.”

There was no reason to get so defensive, but did he understand how you felt? People gravitated toward Bucky and your friends. They always had. You, on the other hand, were on the outside of the house looking in. It was tiring to be the one knocking on the door.

“What about your old friend, TJ? You’re telling me he didn’t see you?” He asked, a hint of bitterness in his voice. It wasn’t a tone you heard from him before. It didn't suit him.

“TJ?” You asked, confusion written all over your face that you couldn’t fake if you tried. “TJ Hammond? My old family friend? Um, no, he definitely doesn’t see me.”

Not even close.

“He stayed at your place after Steve’s party,” he said, running a hand through his hair as he avoided your gaze. “Bet he couldn’t wait to see you. Probably went over the second you got back from the trip.”

Wait, is he jealous? What the hell?

You laughed a little, unable to help yourself when he raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, he did stay at my place for a bit after Steve’s birthday bash a couple of years ago. He had an issue with his boyfriend.”

Bucky did a double take, which would’ve been humorous if not for the stricken look on his face. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah. The guy he dated at the time was a HUGE asshole and they had a falling out. His parents refused to let him go back home, so he stayed with me. And I couldn’t kick him out. He needed a friend,” you said, your brows pinching when you recalled how TJ cried on your sofa. It was a heartbreaking sight. “He has a new boyfriend now who treats him well and he couldn’t be happier. And I couldn’t be happier for him.”

Bucky blinked a few times. “So, you two. You never…?”

“TJ and I? No. Never dated, hooked up, anything,” you smiled with a shake of your head. “We adore each other, but in a brother and sister kind of way. I mean, we’ve known each other since we were in diapers. Even if I did find him attractive, nothing ever would’ve happened. You, Steve, Sam, you guys are much more his type.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, his face a bit pale. You worried for a second that he was going to get sick. “I thought you two hooked up,” he said more to himself than to you.

Where the hell did he get that impression?

“No, we didn't and we never will,” you said again before something he said dawned on you. “Wait, how did you know he stayed at my place? He asked me not to tell anyone where he was and I respected his wishes.”

Going through the dates again in your head, it wasn’t long after TJ stayed with you that Bucky brought Dot around as his new girlfriend. You knew you lost your chance to admit your feelings because he had someone by his side. Someone who wasn’t you.

“Come with me,” Bucky said, taking your hand and pulling you up from the couch before you had a chance to argue. It was hard to keep up with his long strides and he didn’t look back when Steve called after the two of you.

“What’s going on?” You asked as he pulled you outside and slammed the door. You watched as he took a few breaths, like he was trying to steady himself. “Talk to me, please.”

“I wasted two years,” he whispered, tilting his head to look at the sky. “Two fucking years.”

What is he talking about?

“I don’t understand,” you said.

“I made a huge mistake and I regret it,” he said, squeezing your hand as he faced you. “And I can't go the rest of this week without telling you. I wasted enough time.”

“Tell me what? Bucky, what did you do?”

And can we come back from it?

That literary edging. I'm sorry! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[willows-writings]

Of Butterflies and Consequences: An Until Dawn Interactive Fanfiction:

PROLOGUE NOW POSTED

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Masterlist and How to play

(my main masterlist)

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taglist (comment if you wish to be tagged in the beginnning of all chapters): @hearts4josh @lousypotatoes @moyo5653 @morgy3456 @pecxiebu @ohantonia-blog

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‼️PLEASE READ‼️

Hello!!! Welcome to this fic!

This fic will be Josh x Reader

Ever read a choose your own adventure book? Or played one of Markiplier's games? This is just like that!

Just like the game there will be different stories and endings you can get

There will be a total of 10 chapters (11 if you include the prologue) and I will be doing my best to align them with the chapters in the game

When I drop an update I will be dropping an entire chapter at once so you can play a whole chapter seamlessly!

Speaking of updates you will have to bear with me and the time between updates because I will have to plan out entire chapters with multiple different storylines all at once

If you happen to be stalking me and see a new post right as it is posted but can't find the rest of the chapter or the links aren't working please give me a few minutes because I will have to link everything together after it is posted

Since the original game also has different stories you can follow based on the choices others make I will be choosing some of the options for others.

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How to Play

The prologue and chapter one will only have one beginning Most other chapters will have more than one beginning though that will depend on your choices and how you ended the last chapter If you can't remember or find the beginning you are supposed to start on I will be linking them all below as each chapter is posted If your problem is being unable to remember which beginning you need to start on then the best option would to be to go through the route you played real fast and once you reach the last post there will be a link to the next chapter once it is posted (lmk if that doesn't make sense) Other than that every post with a choice will end with two links that will take you the choice you made. Please let me know if a link takes you to the wrong post. Every post will be titled the same as the choice you just chose. (see the prologue as an example once it is posted)

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Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter #1

Chapter #2 - Beginning #1 - Beginning #2

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And that's it so far! Today is 10/20/24 and I will likely be posting the prologue sometime this week! If you have any questions regarding the plot or anything else feel free to send them in! If you have any suggestions for the plot please send those too! Just know I have some of this planned out already so I may not take your suggestion but I appreciate it anyway!! Any likes, reblogs, comments, fanart, whatever you want is greatly appreciated!!

[hwaslayer]

butterflies (smg) | one shot.

—summary: life with your husband & daughter is always full of butterflies.

—pairing: song mingi x f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) established relationship/marriage, parents au | fluff, smut

—word count: 3.2k

—content/warnings: cussing/mature language (away from the baby!), quick neck/shoulder massage, innocent shower lol, lots of sweet kisses/making out!, unprotected sex, missionary, cowgirl, oral (f. receiving), fingering, sprinkle of breast play, multiple orgasms (two), it's incredibly soft and sweet smut though!!

—a/n: happy birthday to our mingi mangi, but also - happy birthday to my entire soul, my favorite person in the world, my other half @persphonesorchid. i love you more than you can even comprehend!!! 💞 whipped this up as a secret little bday present hehe

—on rotation: butterflies pt. 2 x queen naija

“Daddy!” Harin squeals when Mingi plops the tiny pancake onto her pink princess plate, setting the pan aside so he could place blueberries in a shape of a happy face.

“There, babygirl. All done!” He smiles at her and gives her a kiss on the top of her head. 

“No!” She pouts and points towards the fridge.

“You don’t like it?” It’s Mingi’s turn to pout.

“It's not done.”

“Hm.” Mingi hums as he stands there with his hands on his hips, pondering on what the 3 yr old is trying to tell him. Then, it suddenly dawns on him, snapping his fingers in the sudden revelation. “Ah! You’re right. I’m sorry, daddy’s fault.” He says, taking the can of whipped cream out of the fridge. “Here.” He chuckles, spraying a bit around the edges. “Better now, right?”

“Mhm.” Harin nods as smiles up at him, eyes twinkling as the three year old looks at him in pure adoration. She was daddy’s girl, and daddy’s girl at best. 

At this point, you’ve headed down the stairs and into the kitchen, watching your husband plop a small amount of whip cream on your daughter’s tiny little nose before she does the same on his cheek. You giggle as Mingi swipes the tiny trail of whip cream with his finger, plopping some more onto her nose.

Butterflies.

It’s the way Mingi looks at her like she’s his entire universe, like he adores her and loves her more than words could ever capture. It’s the way Harin constantly yearns for him and asks for his company, his jokes— making him smile and laugh in return because of her silly antics.

They give you butterflies.

“Mommy!” Harin is a giggling mess as she lays eyes on you, her dad smiling innocently off to the side.

“Daddy making a mess, huh?” She sticks her tongue out to try and lick the cream from the tip of her nose. “Silly girl.” You chuckle as you wipe her nose with a napkin.

“Goodmorning, beautiful.” Mingi pulls you close and smiles down at you, brushing the hair out of your face before kissing your forehead. “Sleep okay?”

“I think so? I think a need a new pillow. My neck is kinda bothering me.”

“Hm. Does it hurt pretty bad?” Mingi asks as he turns to grab your plate and hands it to you. “Made you a plate, by the way.”

“Thanks, baby.” You press a quick, chaste kiss to his lips before sitting beside Harin. “And no, nothing a new pillow can’t fix. I think.” You shrug and settle down to eat.

“I’m sorry, love. Maybe I can give you a massage later to help?”

“If you’re not too busy.” You smirk as he sets his plate down and sits on the opposite side of Harin.

“Never.” He begins to dig in just as you do. “So, what does the princess wanna do today?” Mingi turns to Harin and she laughs.

“Can we go to the park please, Daddy?” 

“You wanna go to the park?”

“Mhm, with mommy too.”

“With mommy, too?” He repeats animatedly. “Sounds like a plan to me.” You laugh a bit as you brush Harin’s hair back and let her finish eating. 

“Okay, lovebug. We’ll go on a walk and head to the park together, but you’ll need to finish your food first.” You boop her nose. “Deal?”

“Deal!”

“There you go!” You cheer her on to make her laugh. 

Her laugh brings you butterflies.

Once the three of you have wrapped up with breakfast, Mingi takes the plates and washes it along with the bowl and pan he used to make breakfast this morning. It’s a crisp, cool morning, but nothing entirely unbearable. You’re dressed in a loose cropped sweater and sweats, while Mingi is in a shirt and track pants. He helps Harin into a light jacket and puts a beanie over her head, locking the door behind him once he’s gotten you both out of the door. 

The park is a close walk from the house, and it’s Harin’s favorite park of all time. The play structure is huge and updated, with features that most playgrounds nearby don’t have. For a minute, she’s walking in between you and Mingi, holding the both of your hands until she requests to be propped up on Mingi’s shoulders.

He willingly does it without complaint, always doing his best to make you and Harin the happiest.

When your family arrives at the park, there's only two other children playing around— giving Harin the ability to make use of her time at the playground wisely. Mingi joins along and plays with her, never showing signs of exhaustion or boredom even when he follows her around. He pushes her on the swings, plays tag with her, helps her down the ‘big girl slide’ and helps her cross the monkey bars confidently.

He is the sweetest, and even as time goes on, the butterflies you feel for this man only seem to increase— never dies, never goes away.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Harin yells for you at the end of the monkey bars, both your husband and daughter waving and yelling that she’s made it to the end. You laugh and eventually join in on their playground shenanigans before the hour quickly flies by.

Luckily, Harin must have enjoyed herself a little too much that she doesn’t complain when it’s time to go. She happily hops back onto Mingi’s shoulders as they sing a song with you on the way back home, running into the bathroom for a quick wash-up before plopping onto her usual seat at the dining table for a small snack.

You clean around in the kitchen, occasionally watching as she eats away at her strawberry snack bar. It doesn’t take long before she’s exhibiting signs of exhaustion and sleepiness:

One, she continues to rub away at her eyes.

Two, she begins to mumble her responses and pouts more than usual.

Three, she constantly asks for her dad to hold her.

“Alright, let’s get you outta here and into bed, babygirl.” He lifts her in one swift motion, bringing her over to you for a quick kiss. Once Mingi disappears upstairs and into Harin’s room, you finish up in the kitchen and head to your room to rest a bit. You change into shorts and a cropped tee once you’ve stepped inside, plopping onto the bed to get comfortable in the meantime.

“Phew.” Mingi says, quietly stepping into your room and shutting the door. “She knocked out quick. As soon as I tucked her in and gave her a kiss, she was out like a light.” You giggle.

“She had a blast at the park. She’ll have a good nap.”

“Yeah, she will.” Mingi plops onto the bed next to you as you try to sit back against the wall and put on a show to indulge in— feeling content with the fact that you don’t have much to do around the house today.

“Babe, we do need to get groceries when Harin wakes up though.”

“Okay.” He looks up at you as he continues to lay on his stomach at a weird angle on the bed, his hands gently tracing circles on your knee. “But, we have an hour? Maybe an hour and a half, until she wakes up? What can I do for you?” He places a quick kiss against your knee. “Neck still bothering you?”

“Kinda?”

“You sure it’s just your pillow?” Mingi looks at you with concern. He knows you’ve been having some rough, long days at work; though, you’re incredibly great at masking it because you don’t ever wanna bring that stress home.

He knows you, and he knows you well.

After all, you are his other half.

“Maybe? I think I’ve just been exhausted from work overall.”

“Come here.” He finally gets up and fixes his position, motioning for you to settle in between his legs. You comfortably sit with your legs crossed, while Mingi begins to massage your neck and shoulders; easing the knots you have felt from the past days. “Does this feel okay?”

“It feels perfect.” You breath out while his hands continue to do the work. You feel his breath against your skin, sending tingles down your spine.

“Good.” He chuckles as he watches you shift in your position, enjoying every moment of this surprise massage from Mingi. “What else can I do for you, love?” He asks softly, close to a whisper. “Can I make you feel better in any other way?”

“Hm.” You hum, his voice hitting a certain feeling in your gut, hitting you down to your core. “You make me feel better, Mingi. Just having you is enough." He hears the way your tone dips a bit, catches the way you subtly bite onto your lip and expose your neck more. He smiles to himself when your body continues to relax in his hold— lips grazing the surface of your shoulder, the nape of your neck.

“Yeah?” He finally plants a few kisses on your shoulders, moving to your neck, gently nibbling on your earlobe. “Does that make you feel better?” He hears the sigh you let out, feeling your hands rest along his thighs. “Or, this?” He asks, kissing your jaw.

“Babe, Harin.”

“The princess won’t wake up. I promise.” He chuckles a bit. “Let me take care of you.” 

“You always do.” You slightly turn to him and meet his eyes. He stares at you for a second, eyes darting between your lips, eyes, nose, mouth— everything about you that brings him butterflies. He smiles and brushes your hair back before caressing your cheek with his thumb, allowing you to sink into the palm of his hand and melt in his touch.

“And I’ll continue to do it, time and time again.” He responds. “Come here, baby.” Mingi brings your chin forward to kiss you on the lips, wasting no time to deepen the kiss. He swipes his tongue at your bottom lip before biting down and pulling back with a gentle tug. He quickly chases after your lips, tongue now dancing with yours and fighting for dominance. He lets out a soft sigh against you, moving you in between kisses so that he has you pinned to the mattress and underneath him.

God, you look good underneath him. 

Butterflies.

“So beautiful.” He mumbles against your skin, moving down to pepper kisses on the other side of your neck. You let out a small whimper when his hands trace the hem of your cropped tee, giving him full permission to remove it. He tosses it to the side, fumbling with your bralette next. You giggle when Mingi pauses and furrows his brows, not finding the hooks on the back like your usual bras. “Where’d they go?” He pouts a bit.

“I wore my lazy bra today.” You continue to laugh as you remove the bralette and toss it aside to join your shirt somewhere on the floor.

“Shouldn’t have worn one at all.” He smirks against your lips before diving in for another kiss.

“Definitely had to for the park.” 

“You wore a loose sweater anyway, pretty girl. Nobody had to know.” You chuckle at his remarks, running your fingers through his hair. He makes his way down to your collarbone, nipping and sucking on the surface before moving down to your breasts. You let out a tiny gasp when his tongue circles a hardened bud, closing in on it and pulling back with a pop. He repeats his motions on the other, taking more time when he feels you squirm underneath him. He plants a trail of kisses down your sternum— to your stomach, reaching your waist. His hands settle on either side of your cotton shorts, meeting your eyes as he tugs both your shorts and panties down and sets them aside. 

You are so beautiful.

Everything about you gives him butterflies.

“Fuck.” He lets out a breath. “How’d I get so lucky?” You shyly smile when you hear him ask while removing his shirt, settling in between your thighs in no time. His thumb is planted on your clit, easing in with a slow, circular pace. He watches as you slightly arch your back in response to his touch, biting onto your lip when he picks up his pace. He lowers his lips onto you, other hand settled against your inner thigh to keep you open for him. His tongue laps at your clit just as he inserts two fingers to prep you, spending his time just to continuously build that pressure for you. “Already so wet.”

“Mingi.” You call for his name as you tighten the grip on his hair, his fingers pumping in and out of you and keeping a steady pace. He continues his work, licking down every bit of you until he feels your breathing quicken, chest heaving up and down as your legs almost try to close him in.

“That’s it, baby.” He mumbles against you, hearing you let out a moan when you cum around his digits. “Good girl.” He praises, slowing down to give you time to gather yourself. He smiles and plants a kiss on your inner thigh before shedding off his sweats, aching to be inside of you sooner than later.

“God.” You whimper, watching him as he pumps himself a few times.

“Ready for me?” He lowers himself and whispers against your lips, hand still gripping his cock— running his tip in between your folds, nudging your clit to tease you.

“Yes. Need you.” The moment the statement leaves your lips, Mingi is inserting himself into you; the both of you let out silent moans against your lips, Mingi easing himself in until he bottoms out. He stills for a second, adjusting to the feeling— to you— relishing in every bit of the moment.

It’s the way you feel against him, the way your eyes flutter, the way you grip his biceps.

“Babe, please move.” You plead as Mingi presses his forehead against yours. He nods, beginning to work his hips at a slow pace while keeping his eyes locked onto yours. 

“Shit.” He lets out a moan. “You feel so good.” He picks up the pace, hitting you in all the right spots—

In and out.

Deeply, passionately.

You moan against him when he snaps his hips against yours, steadying the headboard with a hand as much as possible. Your nails are digging into him, and he loves every fucking bit of this.

The way you arch against him, feeling your warmth against his.

The way your eyes roll back every time he hits a spot.

The way you chase after his slips for a sloppy kiss in between the whines you let out.

You are perfectly crafted by the stars, holding the universe in your eyes, down to every inch of your body.

Mingi’s thumb starts to circle your clit just as he feels your walls clenching tighter around him. 

“Just like that.” You breathe out. “Mingi, please.” You beg and beg, hoping he’ll continue to work his way with you. You feel your stomach start to tighten, the coil within you threatening to unravel soon. Suddenly, Mingi removes his thumb from your sensitive nub— only to rest back on his ankles and let you sit on him. You carefully wrap your legs and arm around him while he kisses you, not wanting to break away from his lips. He has a hand tangled in your hair, while the other navigates down to your hip and gently encourages you to rock against him.

“Baaaby.” He hisses and breaks away from the kiss. “So fucking good. So perfect for me.” He continues to praise you as you roll against him, building enough friction to heighten the pleasure you feel. 

“Fuck— ” You whine as Mingi sucks on your neck. You tug on the ends of his hair just as you quicken your pace, feeling yourself tipping over the edge. “Gonna cum—” You moan, probably a little too loud for your liking, but it is what it is; you’re too into your man at this moment.

“Let go for me.” He says before letting out a low groan. “Let me feel you.” And in a two, three deep rolls against him, you find yourself unraveling at the same time Mingi fills you up. Mingi holds you close as you tremble against him, watching as your face contorts in pleasure, nails digging into his back as you let everything go. He caresses your back and runs his fingers down your spine, planting sweet kisses on your cheek, eyes, nose, lips.

Anything to ease you, soothe you.

“You okay?” He chuckles as he brushes your hair back and kisses you once more. 

“Mhm.” He looks at you so tenderly and lovingly that it drives you crazy, wondering how lucky you were to have him and Harin in this thing called life.

He will always give you butterflies.

“Let’s get you cleaned up?” He helps you off and leads you into the bathroom for a quick shower together. Mingi continues to shower you with love, peppering you with feathery kisses in between soaping you up and rinsing you off. Once you’ve both gotten cleaned up, you throw on some comfier clothes to prepare for the rest of the afternoon, while Mingi—

“Daddy.” The both of you hear Harin call for him. “Daddy?” She repeats with a slight whine, and you can only imagine the pout she’s sporting while waiting for her dad to come and get her.

“That definitely wasn’t an hour, babe.” He laughs a bit as he tosses on a new hoodie and matching sweats.

“Close enough.” He swings the door and finds Harin standing near her room in the hallway, waiting for Mingi to swoop her up into his arms.

“Had a good nap, princess?” You hear Mingi ask as he holds Harin in his arms and walks into your room. 

“Mhm.” She rubs away at her eyes before they land on you and she smiles. “Hi mommy.”

“Aw, sweet thing. Hi babygirl.” You walk over and kiss her on the cheek while rubbing her back. “You ready to have a little snack and head to the store with mommy and daddy?”

“Yes. May I have yogurt, please?” You giggle hearing her politely ask for her favorite snack. She gives you butterflies.

“Yogurt it is!” Mingi answers animatedly as he bounces her in his arms. “We’ll meet you downstairs?” He looks at you. “Does mommy need a snack too? I think she’s a little tired.” You playfully hit him on the arm and shake your head.

“No. I’ll be there.” 

“Okay.” He kisses your forehead and heads downstairs with Harin, making you chuckle to yourself as the two hum another song together.

They always give you butterflies.

[pinkyqil]

Would you ever write for Irene Paredes? I feel like a fluffy mom fix with her would be so cute.

Butterfly // Irene paredes kid fic

Summary: Irene and her kid spend the day at barca training grounds and she's just wilding

A/n: I honestly enjoyed writing this send in some Ileana request, might be one of my favorite kid fic that I wrote so send in more requests you want of her and Irene, too the anon who sent this request I hope i got it right cause it was between Irene x r with a child or Irene + child, and I went with Irene + child r if this isn't what you wanted you can always send it in again and I'll do it properly hope y'all are enjoying my writing we'll be ignoring any mistakes has there yet to be finally edited.

© PINKYQIL

You've been good all day for mami meaning you get to go too tomorrow's partice getting to see your favorites people's and run around a ball the whole day.

Mami had promised to take you with her if you showed that you could be on your best behavior which you did and tomorrow you get the vist the barça girles.

You we're so excited that you went to bed early praying that tomorrow would come really quick.

Mami had gotten you this all black training kit that was just for you which the girls fanned over cause of how adorable they found you in it.

Irene woke you up a little earlier than the usual time she gets you up. after getting you and her dressed it was time for breakfast she gave you some waffles and sausage and grape juice one of your favorites.

You thought to yourself that today must be really special since mami gave you a special breakfast something different from what you usually have.

"Mami up up car now finish eating can we go to prawctice now". You asked basically rushing her, for a soon to be five fingers old you speak very well.

"un momento baby let mami finish cleaning up before we go okay why don't you go make sure we got everything packed in your training bag okay".she told

"Okay". you told her before running of to make sure you had everything.

"Aye cariño, no corras". she told you

"Si mami". You replied but just walking a little faster instead of running.

Finally arriving at practice with what felt like eternity you had gotten excited the moment mamì pulled up at the parking lot. With that you'd Immediately taken off your sit belt from your big girl car sit and opening the car door to run off.

Irene who quickly parked properly before scolding you. to make sure no one got hurt along with you.

"Oh dios mio Ileana we don't do that". she told you with the scary voice.

"lo siento mami". you told her before taking her hand after worrying her with the stunt you had pulled just now.

"Ai Irene don't be harsh on the little one she's just having a little fun".

mapi came into the conversation after spotting you both getting out and your crazy little stunt.

"Maria your child might be allowed to do crazy stuff but that doesn't mean my should". Irene told her injured teammate.

Before both adults could say any more you had spotted Caro and Marta coming out of their car.

which you sprinted your little legs over to them.

"Ro Ro Ta Ta". You said greeting the couple as they picked you up.

"nena how are you". Marta said while holding your hands so you wouldn't run away from irene again.

"Good me go training today". you told her

" We can see darling how about we walk in together while your mama gets your stuff". she said

"Irene wil take her inside with us". caro told her.

"Thank you guys don't run around while I'm not there Peque stay with you aunties and wait for me bébé . She told you.

The whole day training was fun you got to spend the whole day with your favorite aunties and wacht the youngsters pull one of the funniest pranks on the older girls you'd laugh even though mamí told you not too.

You'd got passed around training to see what different excerise the girls were doing. You had play time with vicky esme and jana who had fun playing dolly with you.

After a while Irene finally let you go more further into the pitch with your ball but you had to stay closer.

You tried getting way more distant than you should cause you saw a group of butterfly and seek them out.

Until you got pulled back by lucy who saw you trying to escape your original spot.

"Where are going Peque". She questioned you

"Butterfly". you pointed for her to see before running around trying to catch them.

"Ileana what did we say about running around like this in practice". Mami scolded you

"Irene let her have a little fun she's been very good the whole day let her chase". Alexia butted in especially after seeing how happy you look.

"Fine don't run that much bèbè". she yelled so you could hear.

"gracias mami". You told her before chasing after the butterfly with mapi who honestly couldn't keep up with a four year old

"Ai marià you can't keep up with four year old or what".alexia told her with a teasing tone making the whole group laugh.

"She's very fast even you yourself wouldn't be able to keep up". mapi said trying to catch her breath she was definitely done chasing a four year old and butterflies.

Irene came swooping you up and carrying you so you could get a better view of the lovely butterfly and how pretty they're. you tried catching them now that you were closer but

"No we don't hurt them". Mami told you with her stern voice.

"but I want. You tried telling her

"No Peque you can't have them okay".

"Fine". you said grumpy but to tired too do anything.

The ended with you falling asleep on the drive back home mama had gotten you a new toy butterfly. and made you your special spaghetti that you got all over yourself thinking you could feed yourself.

You went to bed early so you could grown bed and strong like your mama to play football like her one day.

[myalvmss]

⎯⎯ DATING HEADCANONS WITH AQUAMARINE HOSHINO❞

CHARACTERS. aquamarine hoshino, ruby hoshino, ai hoshino, akane kurokawa mention

MISSION. headcanons ; adventure mission, silent yet shining

WARNINGS. mentions of pregnancy & sex? this is mostly just me digging into aqua's character more and more, ANGST will most definitely be in this, but dont worry!

BUTTERFLY'S NOTE. special thanks to my friend named Ryu I guess LMAOAOAOAO. THIS IS SHORT??

⌗O1: when I tell you, this man makes me frustrated every two seconds of reading the manga, I have a love and hate relationship with this man that not even scaramouche can compete with, BECAUSE RIGHT OFF THE BAT, HE'S A RED FLAG. BAHAHAHAH 😭

⌗O2: when you two first meet, he barely does effort in the so called friendship, or what he thinks of acquaintance.

UNLESS you are of use to his plan, so he'll probably use you, sorry bitch </3

⌗O3: this mf's ideal type is just someone like ai hoshino (imo NO ONE can replace her, not even akane sorry not sorry) and what makes you think you can pull off an ai?

i suggest you CHANGE him, not change yourself for him honey

⌗O4: this depends on your personality, but the relationship might be a sunshine reader while aqua's the grumpy one LMFAOAOAOAO

⌗O5: aqua doesn't engage in social media much, unlike his twin sister ruby. in other words, he's a boomer yet I'm not surprised so it's mostly you who takes pictures and videos of u both

⌗O6: you and aqua often go on dates at the cafe, park, or mostly private places where you two can get alone time with no interruptions

⌗O7: he's SO OVERPROTECTIVE ABOUT YOU. imagine yandere aqua omfg, he even makes sure that you're safe and doing well everyday

A caring boyfriend but a red flag 🚩

⌗O8: In the song, "MEPHISTO" I think there's a lyric where "I'll bet my life, I'll give it to you" would imply that to the people he cares about, aqua WILL risk his life for you. THOUGH this song probably directs to ai, or ruby? but either way, he still cares about you if you were actually his girlfriend. not just for his revenge plan, but purely his own love for you.

yet sometimes I think, "would aqua even bother asking you to be his girlfriend at a time crisis like this?"

It's a possibility he wants to keep you safe and unharmed from danger, so he'll probably lock up his feelings from you and keep it a secret so no danger will come for you, but it's not guaranteed </3

⌗O9: in an au where ai is alive, I wouldn't say that ai would straight away approve of your relationship with aqua. she's a mother, yes but not those kinds who don't give a fuck abt relationships ykwim?

when she first met you, she's a bit suspicious of you, especially if you're someone who's young, but your mind is well beyond your age.

It took a while, but she got used to you around with aqua and genuinely loves you

“you two aren't getting a kid, right?” just a few reassurances that YOU BOTH AREN'T GOING THE SAME ROUTE AS WHAT SHE DID.. “mama! don't ask questions out of the blue like that!” ruby come rescue us both PLS

“mama.. cut it out please,” insert a little bit of a flushed red aqua PLSS

⌗10: honestly, taking back the topic where you change aqua actually would work, because this man is wanting revenge and is willing to kill his father.

you can't be the one who helps him, that will end up ugly if he does succeed, because let's not forget how aqua can get arrested despite being a minor, yet he's 17 (currently in manga) and he might turn 18 soon enough

so you have to BE THE SAVIOR who changes aqua to be a better person and set aside this revenge

honestly. it's not worth it, I KNOW this is about ai hoshino getting her justice, but would she wanna see her kids in danger like this??

DON'T go off like "aqua this isn't like you 🥺🥺" NO LMAO. you knew aqua when he was 16, that's a super high possibility on who you met him, and the person he is now is just the same aquamarine hoshino you him at sixteen

just imo, you need to convince aqua that his revenge path won't do anything better for anyone's lives, because correctly he's ruining everything — the man probably doesn't care but you gotta make him care and move on for the better like how ai would want for him and ruby

ENOUGH WITH THE DARK SHIT LMFAO PLS AHAHAHAHAH

⌗11: if you're smaller than aqua, then he'll probably use you as a head rest

lay his head on your shoulder

rest his head on your lap

place his head ontop of yours

⌗12: SURPRISE BACK HUGS >>>>>

⌗13: whenever aqua is jealous, he always keeps it a secret from you so that you won't tease him about it

think of a scenario where you're talking to some guy on the street, a fan or an old friend;

aqua would slowly wrap his arm around your waist and pull you towards him WHILE giving the guy a very overprotective look

⌗14: he can't help it but aqua always compliments you in his mind, like how cute or gorgeous you are

⌗15: i like to think you both started getting together after his so-called revenge plan for his father

⌗16: aqua's careful around you, by that I mean when it comes to sex. he doesn't wanna end up being a replica of his father.

by that I mean, he'd ask for consent first for sex ( aqua's not entirely that kind of person who doesn't ask for consent )

and also would not have sex during his teenage years, as he prefers to have it at adult years ykyk

⌗17: you're a pain in the ass for him, gotta say that BAHAHAHHAHAH

⌗18: since in aqua's past life, he was a doctor ( bro's a DOCTOR. ) that took medical education, it's a high chance that he still remembers a few things

probably trauma from learning all that pain of a education lmao

⌗18: so whenever you get hurt, aqua's always the one who bandages you :))

⌗19: since aqua dislikes bell peppers, you probably shove those in aqua's mouth for shits and giggles AHAHAHA

⌗20: he acts like 'himself' (or the past him) when you're around, and you're the only person who could do that

“i noticed that he's like how he used to be when he's around y/n..” ruby spoke to herself, watching aqua and y/n from afar as a small smile appeared on her face. “I'm happy for them both.”

[xayasmrxsoftlyx]

Imagine a Butterfly Alien

Imagine...

you're a human whose been farming and growing plants for as long as you could walk. You like the birds, the bees, the butterflies, even all the bugs that others thought were gross and useless...worthless, yet you've found appreciation of them.

you're also not ignorant to the fact that aliens have made their presence and cultures known to your world for a little while now. You've yet to meet any in your tiny farming village, but you're sure they can't be too different from any other humanoids you've met before. To say you're a black sheep to your village in those statements would be a massive understatement.

That's not to say you're surrounded by bigoted, closeminded individuals- on the contrary, your little village is eager anticipating meeting these new friends no matter what variety they are. So excited and willing to accommodate.

So, you're more than a little surprised when one day you hear a loud crash on your farm and go running over to investigate only to see a massive Butterfly Alien having torn his wing and crash landed your on your front lawn. Right near your butterfly bush, you reflect later. In the moment, you're sheepish to admit, you're spending the time panicking and crying.

At first, the Butterfly Alien is dazed and equally confused, interesting distended eyes seemingly peering around. You're sat next to him, face flushed and teary eyes, voice high pitched and fast paced; he's in pain and immediately notices tear within the upper quarter of his right wing. You can only assume he starts to suffer shock as he begins to violently tremble. At this point, you're more than upset at yourself for not going to at least one Culture seminar your village held to ease the welcome and culture shock of/for your future visitors.

You're frantic and nearly as trembly as the Butterfly Man you attempt to touch Him, but you flutter your hands around (adorably) unsure if you'd stress or hurt Him further. Tears finally begin to fall as the anxiety of it crests- the Alien flutters His wings quickly, almost desperately, as if gauging them, testing their abilities. You gasp loudly as the tear rips the top quarter of His wing off right in front of your eyes. You begin to hyperventilate as the Man begins to tremor again, whole body shaking like a leaf caught in the wind.

You can't quite see what happens next, eyes blurring your vision with thick tears causing you to wipe at them with the back of your hand. It's as you're doing that when the Butterfly Man moves. It's quicker than you imagine He could move before He's up; and one second later He's flying again.

He doesn't even appear to turn back as he glides up into the sky, as if He'd never crashed at all. You're left there blubbering, blurring vision flicking between the sky and the dinner plate sized wing remnant left in your yard.

You can't understand why, but when the breeze starts to pick up, you snatch the piece of his wing with your shaky hands and hurry inside feeling as if you'd seen a ghost. Unsure where to go with it or what to do with it, you find the biggest frame that you had that could fit it and frame it. It's the only way you can think of no harm coming to it further. It's beautiful, too, soft but vibrant colors popping against the whites of your wall as you hold it up in the sun.

You look into attending some of your village's culture seminars a few hours later after your heart stopped racing and mind spinning with everything that had happened.

Imagine as you're walking into town to see when the next Culture seminar is and you're hearing from whispered shadows as you're walking into town "did you see?" "did you hear?!" "They finally came!" "We need to throw a Welcome Festival!" "I wanna make them food to welcome them!" "I-I heard they're all...single..."

You fluster again when you reach the center of your village square, there's several insectoid aliens that have migrated to your village- drawn by its rich agriculture and farming lifestyles. There's only one Butterfly Alien, though, it's here, and only here, finally here that you get a good look at the person who literally crashed into you life.

He's not just beautiful, all colorful wings and lean muscles and graceful movements, He's handsome, too. He's got these masculine humanoid traits that add a rugged edge to His beauty- He's got a distinct jawline and defined cheekbones and whilst nothing about Him is particularly sharp or overtly (humanly) masculine, there's a defined demeanor to Him that pulls in favor of His handsomeness. The tear in His wing helps strongly to add that ruggedness.

It's hard to tell with eyes like his if you've met his gaze but with his posture shift and almost sheepish expression coming over him you feel as if you may have. You flush, flustered by his attention even so indirectly. The head of your village, MeeMaw, eagerly invites the couple of them into her space and once they're out of sight the whispers turn to full on chatter.

You huff, trying to push past how out of whack everything's become in one day and now you suppose you have a dual purpose for lingering by MeeMaw's quarters. You'll definitely need those Culture Seminars after today, and you suppose while you're at it....You could try and give the Butterfly Man His wing back to Him....You don't know if He needs it, but at the very least you'd have an excuse to talk to Him. You just hope you don't get shy on Him...you certainly didn't make the "best" first impression

(Little do you know, He thought it was so cute. So panicked over Him without knowing Him. So worried over Him without knowing He'd been there to peep on you after seeing just how cute you were tending to your farm

(Imagine He's just so grateful and thinks you're the cutest, sweetest little thing to save His wing for Him. Were you going to go looking for Him like some sweet and brave Knight in shining armor? How adorable!

(So sweet, little human, so cute! Gosh, you must be His! You must be made for Him! Why else would you have been so scared for him? You wouldn't save just anyone's amputated limb, would you? You must...love Him!

(You have no idea, either, until much later anyway, just how rare He is. Insectoid Aliens aren't the most intergalactically social so they're pretty rare off their own planets- Butterfly Aliens especially so, even more so. Mostly due to the fragility of their wings and inability to regrow. If someone wanted, it would be so easy to destroy or even rip His wings from Him, yet you wept over Him. Many would steal Him away, cage Him forever; yet you let Him free. Let Him keep His freedom. You're truly one of a kind. Just as He is.

(That must mean He's right- you are made for each other. He's glad you think He's handsome, He'd fight you for your love even if you were to think He isn't.

[ladvofthelake]

one of my favorite tropes is when a hot and sexy knight takes off their helmet and there’s a hot and sexy (and sweaty!) person underneath who has to readjust their hot and sexy hair (bonus points if they are somehow covered in blood??? yeah???)

[mytheoristavenue]

"Love..." Tamaki stuttered, shying away from your touch. "N-Not here..." You ignored his pleas, continuing to nibble at his ear as you sat atop the vanity of his dressing room. "I-I gotta go on soon, I don't have time..."

"'Jiki..." you pouted against the shell of his pointed ear. "We've been on the road for days, I miss you, baby..."

"I-I know..." he admitted with bated breath. "I-I know it's hard to get alone time on the bus but still..."

"Please, baby...? We can be quick..." you begged, hanging on his leather vest as you leaned back against the mirror. His eyes shifted nervously between you and the clock, lip sucked into his teeth. He was definitely considering it.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, a stage hand calling loudly from the other side. "On in five, sir!"

With the nudge of your boot against his crotch, Tamki broke with a grunt. "Fuck..." he muttered under his breath before answering th stage hand back. "M-Make it ten!"

[navybrat817]

Where We Left Off

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You're in love with your best friend who is determined to make the most of your vacation together. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Light angst, friends reconnecting, unrequited feelings (or so you think), slight feels (it's me), future fun, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) A/N: New AU called Reconnect because why not? Meet Dreamboat and Butterfly. For @the-slumberparty 's June's Monthly Challenge : Bikini and Beach, and Smut Hub Summer Camp Bingo @sagechanoafterdark: Choose Your Vibes: Summer. Thank you @flordeamatista for the inspiration and pre-reading! ❤️ Any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was a couple of summers ago when you realized you were in love with Bucky Barnes. When you looked back on your friendship, you wondered how it took you so long to realize it. Like how his smile made your heart race whenever he looked your way. Or how you found a solid ground and safe space together, each of you able to confide in the other.

He made you feel safe.

"You're my best friend."

Nothing more.

You stared out the living room window with a sigh, the beach house blanketed by the heavy sound of rain. While it had been bright and sunny just minutes ago, the sky was now dark and misty. You shivered as you wrapped your towel tighter around your wet body, enchanted by the summer storm instead of going to your room to change. It figured you'd buy a new swimsuit for the trip and only get to wear it outside for a minute.

"So much for lounging on the beach."

You smiled softly as you glanced at Bucky beside you, who ran a hand through his long, soaked hair. He hadn't bothered to keep his towel after the two of you rushed back inside, clad in just his blue trunks that matched the shade of his eyes. You scolded yourself for letting your gaze roam along his sun kissed, muscular body.

You didn't have the right to look at him that way.

"Yeah. So much for that," you said, the towel doing little to keep you warm as the air conditioner kicked on. "Maybe our punishment for getting started without everyone?"

Steve, another one of Bucky's best friends, put together a weeklong trip for the gang. So far, you and Bucky were the only two at the beach house. Everyone else wasn't going to be there until the evening. That was why you went for an immediate swim once you picked your room. The storm would likely put the group behind even more and now you were stuck inside with Bucky.

Why had you agreed to show up early?

Why did you have to be alone with him?

Why do I have to love him?

"Maybe," he said with a stretch, drawing attention to his wide chest. "Since it doesn't look like it's slowing down at all, why don't we cuddle on the couch? Catch up a bit?"

"Cuddle?" you scoffed, the sound more bitter than you intended as you turned to face him. "Why would we do that?"

A flicker of hurt passed over his eyes before he blinked it away. "Well, for one, you're cold. I can practically hear your teeth chattering," he replied. He wasn't a fan of being cold either, but he always ran warm. "And two, cuddling never bothered you before."

Your stomach flip-flopped. Bucky was right. He was the only male friend you ever snuggled with. Whenever you had a bad day, he didn't hesitate to throw a heavy arm around you and pull you against his chest. On good days, he found an excuse to keep you plastered by his side. He used to do it so often that most people assumed you were dating.

Wishful thinking.

"I'm sorry," you said, giving him the nicest smile you could manage even though it hurt to do so. "Been awhile since it was just the two of us and even longer than that since we cuddled."

The day it clicked that you saw Bucky as more than a friend was the day he introduced you to Dolores. Everyone called her Dot. The beautiful redhead looked good on his arm and you wondered why it wasn't you in her place. But you put on a brave face and smiled, even as your heart shattered. Because Bucky's happiness meant more than your feelings.

It didn't stop you from crying alone in the darkness where no one else could see.

"That's my fault," he whispered, sliding his fingers into his hair again and tugging harshly on the strands. You noticed he did that when he was upset. "And I'm sorry."

"Friendship goes both ways," you pointed out.

"You never faded out of my life when you dated anyone."

They weren't you, Bucky.

"I guess she was different," you smiled sadly.

The two of you still hung out and messaged each other while he dated Dot, but it was always as a group and the daily messages dwindled to chats here and there. You had the feeling that Dot didn't like you very much. In a way, you didn't fault her for that. Maybe she saw through you and knew you wanted Bucky.

Yet he was the one who broke up with her.

"You're allowed to be mad at me," he said as he took your hand and crossed the room to the couch. "I'd be mad at me."

"Right now, I'm just cold," you said, not wanting to dwell on the past. What good would it do?

He nodded slowly, almost like he was disappointed in your response. "Okay."

You shrieked when he pulled the towel away. It wasn't like he hadn't seen you minutes before in your bikini and you swore his gaze lingered on you long enough to consider it staring, but what was he doing? "What the hell?" you asked, but made no move to cover yourself.

Maybe I want him to see that I'm desirable.

Bucky let out a breath as he looked at you, your shivering having nothing to do with the cold. "You said you were cold, so let me warm you up," he urged, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch before he took a seat. "Please?"

Silence fell over you as you sat down beside him. He wasted no time putting the blanket over you and wrapping his arms around your shaking frame. You breathed in his familiar scent and found yourself fighting off tears, a bittersweet swirl of longing and comfort settling in your chest.

Because he embraced you as if you meant something to him.

"I missed you," he whispered, running a hand along your back.

Your heart clenched, focusing on the rain falling outside in a melancholy rhythm. "I missed you, too."

"But we have each other again."

"I wish that were true," you whispered.

Why did I say that?

His hand stilled, but you were too afraid to look at him. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Panic bubbled in your chest. You couldn't just blurt out your feelings like this. "I just mean you went from a constant to a fleeting moment in my life," you said, which was the truth. "I don't want things to fizzle after we leave."

Bucky used to be the brightest star in your sky. Then he became the shooting star you missed making a wish upon. But you would forever watch the sky if only to get a glimpse of his bright light.

"I'll make it up to you. I have this whole week to start," he promised, rubbing his chin along the top of your head. "I don't care what Steve has planned. I'm all yours."

You squeezed your eyes shut because you knew you'd cry if you didn't. He wasn't yours. Not really.

"I'm yours, too, Bucky."

I always will be.

Surely Bucky will sweep us off our feet, right? Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[erwinsvow]

𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐱𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

summary: you've gotten used to stitching up rafe these days.

word count: 0.9k

now spinning: shades of cool by lana del rey

Rafe likes to keep his work and his home life separate.

In the past, when the two get all tangled up with each other, it gets messy, and so his new habit is to keep everything apart from each other. Talking business with his dad, figuring out what the hell is going on with this gold and the treasure and these stupid Pogues and his stupid sister, it was all interfering with his personal life. His life with you. 

You’re hopelessly clueless. If he didn’t like you as much as he did, it would be annoying. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty on his arm, let him fuck out his anger on your pussy, and follow his rules. And you’re obedient too, you follow his rules and every word he says like a lost puppy, terrified of leaving its master’s good graces.

You don’t ask questions when he comes back to you, knuckles bloody and ribs sore. Instead you sit him down on your bed, running to fetch an ice pack and a damp towel, wiping until all the red leaves his skin while having him hold the cold compress down.

You complain about the mud he’s tracking in on your floor, and you shove his arm when he gets blood on the pale pink of your sheets, but you never ask questions. You never tell him to stop.

It’s an unspoken rule between the two of you. You’ve totally brainwashed yourself, you think in the back of your head, when he comes to you bleeding from a cut that’s too deep for just a tight bandage. You like to think that, because the alternative is that he’s brainwashed you, and you just can’t swallow that thought.

Maybe because you don’t really care if he has. You like being his, you’ve decided, just his and no one else’s. 

Rafe groans from pain, feeling droplets of blood running down his arm. He wants to lay down, even though you told him not to. You’re out of the room right now, running to get the other first-aid kit in your house because you’ve burned through all the supplies in the first one, the one you kept under your bed for Rafe in these situations.

You come back with a bigger box and a glass decanter filled with an amber liquid. 

“No,” he moans out, trying to get up but ultimately sitting back down. His head hurts like a bitch and the wound on his shoulder is bleeding too much, but if you’ve brought him whiskey—it has to be whiskey, even though you know he prefers scotch, your dad likes whiskey and he knows this because for your parents’ anniversary last month, he got your father a bottle of aged whiskey, to try and stay on his good side despite the fact he knows he never will—then it’s about to get bad.

“Rafe, Rafe-” you repeat, scrambling down to his side, setting the whiskey and a box with a blue lid onto your covers. “Please, you have to let me stitch it up, it’s too deep and since we can’t go to the hospital—”

He stops moving under your gentle touch eventually, unbuttoning his shirt and using your clean, white shirt as a makeshift tourniquet. He feels guilty when he sees his blood on it afterwards, discarded on your floor. His heart feels like it's on fire when he reflects on what you just said—not that he can’t go to the hospital, no, we can’t go, you and him, together.

You clean his wound, and make him drink the whiskey so it hurts less. It doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you say, while he sucks in a tight breath every time the needle goes in. “There wasn’t any scotch in the house, I’m sorry-”

“‘S’fine, it’s fine,” he chokes out. He has to be quiet because your parents are asleep in the next room. “Whiskey’s good. You’re good.”

You beam under his praise, even in a situation like this. He grips your face with his bloody hand for a second.

“Thanks for doing this, kid.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you repeat back at him, looking back down and continuing your work on his arm. He stares at the blood leftover on your cheek, his blood.

You stitch up his arm and then wrap it tightly. You clean off as much blood as you can, and then find him clean clothes to sleep in—his clothes. You have half his closet here, he notices, pulling out a baggy shirt for him and then for you. You both crawl into bed together. You’re exhausted, he can hear it in your breathing. You just hope you’re not getting too tired of him.

“Sorry, kid,” he says. You look up at him quickly, eyes watery, from your position against his chest. His good arm hangs around you, fingers brushing right above your elbow. He looks down to meet your eyes. “I got some blood on your sheets. Sorry.”

“Oh,” you breathe out. “It’s okay, I’ll just wash them.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you’re asleep before you know it.

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter 6 - The Butterfly Effect

Read on AO3

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Contains: No Y/N (2nd POV but Reader is an OC), Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized Reader/OC, female Reader/OC, Everyone learns new things about each other, Manipulation, PTSD, Doll has a tragic backstory, Poorly translated Spanish, Lots of introspection

~4.2k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above but honestly nothing particularly bad happens this chapter.

John gives you space for the next few days, letting you settle in around the edges of his own routine. You’ve always been an early riser, and so is he, but he starts every day with a run, and you prefer a slower pace. You’ve taken to coming downstairs after you hear the front door close, and stretch on the living room floor (you wouldn’t call it yoga, but you’ve spent the last few years keeping up with the Kinsey kids, and you know how important it is to maintain flexibility), and make coffee before you go back upstairs to get dressed and ready for the day. John always showers first thing after his run, but after the second day he starts taking off his shirt before he drinks a glass of water at the sink, watching you from the corner of his eye to see if you’re looking.

And maybe sometimes you are. It would be a useless endeavour, pretending that he’s not nice to look at. He’s big, barrel-chested, with thick, muscular arms, and he’s hairy in a way that’s unbelievably attractive, and he gleams with sweat after his runs. If he didn’t look so damn smug every time he catches you looking, you’d probably gladly spend a few long minutes studying him. Something about the man makes your fingers itch to pick up a pencil.

You just orbit around each other for those first few days. He’s working on some project outside, and you putter around the house a bit and look for new jobs online. You were surprised that he didn’t confiscate your laptop to keep you from calling for a rescue, but he made no effort to stop you from using your laptop or your phone. Perhaps he’d really listened when you’d tried to set boundaries. He’s certainly given you space to adjust.

On Wednesday, you video call your Lola— It’s been routine for ages, since you always had Sundays and Wednesdays off from work— and catch up. You start the call shortly after John leaves, to give yourself some time to talk privately. It’s nice to see her familiar, wrinkled brown face, even if she’s half the world away from you.

She clocks that you’re not at home right away, and gets that sly, knowing smile when you tell her you’re staying with a friend. “¿Estás viendo a alguien?” she asks. “¿Un joven tal vez?” Are you seeing someone? A young man perhaps?

“No nada de eso. Sólo quedarme con un amigo.” No, nothing like that. Just staying with a friend. Once again, lying to make it seem like you’re not in trouble. It’s not like your Lola would be able to do anything about your situation anyway. You would just worry her.

Of course, Lola is much too observant not to see that you're hiding something-- Even if all she sees of you is a video call once a week, you're her granddaughter and she knows you. "Dalisay," she says, her tone a mocking approximation of sternness. "Eres una mujer adulta. Me gustaría saber que eres feliz, que estás saliendo con alguien agradable. No tienes que mentirme. Mientele a tu otra abuela.” You are a grown woman. I would like to know you're happy, that you’re seeing someone kind. You don't have to lie to me. Lie to your other grandmother.

You laugh. "¡Es complicado Lola! Él es—" It's complicated Lola! He's—

The door opens, and John limps back in, early. "Rolled my ankle," he explains, taking your wide-eyed look as concern. "Just need some ice."

"Muéstramelo," Lola demands, laughing. "Tiene una voz hermosa.” Show him to me. He has a handsome voice.

John turns toward you, frowning. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"I always call Lola on Wednesdays-- John, sit down, you need to ice your ankle, what are you doing?"

He's standing on one leg, in the middle of the kitchen, fishing a mug out of the cupboard rather than getting something cold and sitting right down. "I--"

You're not sure what possesses you, but you get up, and you make him sit, and you go to make him his coffee and wrap a bag of frozen peas in a tea towel. When you turn around, he's reached across the table to pull your laptop closer, smiling at the camera when Lola claps he hands together, beaming.

"Es guapo, Dalisay. Pero no joven, ¿eh?" She says, laughing. He's handsome, Dalisay. But not young, huh?

"No," he agrees, "soy demasiado viejo para ella. Todavía soy lo suficientemente egoísta como para intentarlo de todos modos.” I'm too old for her. I'm still selfish enough to try anyway. Lola laughs at his honesty, pleased with John already.

You set down the coffee and glare at him. But you gently set the ice pack on his raised ankle. He pulls you into his lap, sitting you on his other thigh. "John!" You protest.

"Oh, relájate, apo,” Lola chides, unhelpfully reading the situation just the way John wants her to. She seems impressed by John's accented Spanish, happy to not need to translate her words to English to speak with him. She speaks English perfectly well, but she prefers Spanish, calls English clunky and ungraceful. "Yo también fui joven una vez. Me preocupaba que ella nunca encontrara a alguien.” Oh lighten up, apo. I was young once too. I was worried she would never find someone.

"No es que ella no pudiera,” John says. "Ella es tan hermosa, pero mantiene la distancia." It's not that she couldn't. She's so beautiful, but she keeps her distance.

“John, stop that,” you say, and you do mean the way he’s talking, but you also mean the hand that’s firmly gripping your hip, kneading your soft flesh. It’s not hard enough to bruise, not even enough to hurt, but it’s distracting, and makes your heart flutter. The movement is also hitching your skirt up a little higher on your thighs.

The innocent, laughing look he gives you is no help. “Sorry, love.” He kisses your shoulder, his hand sliding up to your waist instead.

You glance over at the screen, wincing when you see two of your cousins crowded into the screen with Lola, all of them stifling laughter and one of them holding a chubby baby.

“He needs to buy you a ring, cuz,” Ligaya says, waving her baby’s chubby hand at you. “Say hello Berting, that’s your auntie Dalisay and her boyfriend.” She and her sister, Ceci dissolve into giggles. The baby laughs too, although he doesn’t have any idea what’s going on around him.

“He’s too old to be anyone’s boyfriend,” you grouse.

“He looks more like husband material to me,” Ceci crows. She points a threatening finger at the webcam. “You’d better be good to her! She’s our favourite cousin.”

“Y mi nieta favorita,” Lola says, And my favourite granddaughter, cupping her hand around her mouth as if that would keep Ligaya and Ceci from hearing her. They both laugh, unoffended, Ceci batting Lola’s shoulder lightly.

“I will,” John promises. “She makes it easy. She’s much too good for the likes of me.”

“And don’t you forget it, English!” Ligaya agrees. “Are you coming to see us for Christmas this year, Lisay? There’s at least four babies you haven’t met yet.”

“I’m not sure I can afford to this year. We’ll see if I can find work—”

“¿Qué pasó? ¿Perdiste tu trabajo?” Lola asks. What happened? Did you lose your job?

“You practically raised those niños!” Ligaya protests, as if that would change the facts of the matter. “They love you!”

You grimace, and haltingly explain that Mr. Kinsey had made a pass at you, and you’d been fired so that he and his wife could work out their marital issues. Apparently you’d been just too tempting to have around, despite the fact that you had less than zero interest in your former employer. By the end of your explanation, Lola looks ready to fight, and Ligaya and Ceci both look furious too. “It’s alright,” you say, trying to convince yourself as much as you are them. “I wouldn’t have been able to leave if they didn’t fire me. And I didn’t want to be raising someone else's’ kids forever.”

Ceci wiggles her eyebrows at you. “Yeah, Lisay, you want your own babies, eh?”

“You should start painting again,” Ligaya suggested, flicking Ceci with the hand not currently supporting her son. “You could sell prints online, portrait commissions. You’re as good as your mother, and she made it into that London Gallery.”

Lola notices the way your smile strains and shoos your cousins away. “El consejo es bueno aunque graznan,” she says. “Eres demasiado buena para dejar de pintar.” The advice is good, even if they quack. You’re too good to stop painting.

You change the subject, and Lola talks some about the children, about neighbourhood gossip, catching you up on everything before you end the call. You sigh, sinking into John unconsciously. He’s so big, and so solid, you wish you could do away with that undercurrent of fear ruining the little comfort his arms would provide you otherwise.

“Why’d you stop painting?” he asks.

“It’s not the same anymore.”

“Is anything ever the same?”

You twist to look at him. His eyes are too blue, piercing though you like he’s able to read the thoughts in your head. You have to remind yourself that he can’t, that he doesn’t know you well enough even to guess. You’re getting to know him pretty well though, and you recognize this earnestness, this plea to let him in, to let him help. John is a man who needs to do something all the time, that needs to focus on a task. You wonder what it is that nips at his heels so sharply— Is is inherent, genetic, something unavoidable, written in the core of his very deepest, truest self? Or is it just that he’s running from something, and must stay in motion, driving himself ever forward to keep it from catching up?

“Have you ever lost anyone, John?”

Surprise widens his eyes for a flickering second, before he hides it behind a tight smile. “Think we’re talking about you, Doll.”

“You don’t have to answer. I think it’s just easier to understand, when you have. Painting just reminds me of my mam. It’s like trying to swim with lead shoes on. It’s so hard to keep my head above the water that it’s easier just not to swim.”

“Maybe you could try takin’ off the lead shoes,” he suggested, his arms tightening around you. Levity and reassurance, like he knows exactly what you need. “Or maybe you just shouldn’t go swimmin’ alone.”

“A lifeguard,” you say, rolling the thought around in your head. Maybe that was the problem, the empty space was too apparent when there was no one around to fill it. You’d painted the flowers on the credenza with Ripley there, and that had even been nice. You’d thought it was just a fluke, but you hadn’t really thought about why it had been different. “That’s an interesting thought.”

“Did you have everything you’d need? We can look through the boxes for your supplies.”

You shake your head. “No. Yes. I have watercolours somewhere. Just no acrylics. But I could start with watercolours.”

“Yeah? We can look now, if you like.”

“Maybe in a bit. I’ll make breakfast first.”

“I can do it,” he offers quickly. “I want to take care of you.”

As much as you aren’t quite ready to admit it, he already is. “No, I think it’s my turn. Just give me a minute. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, but this is kind of nice.”

He hums his agreement, picking up his coffee. You think he’s doing it so he can’t kiss you, and you’re so pleased that he’s starting to get it that you almost consider kissing him instead.

But you don’t. You just let yourself enjoy the moment.

Maybe that’s enough, for now.

You decide that having him sit and watch you painting would be awkward, so once you hunt down your watercolours and a sketchbook with heavy paper, you set up outside while he works. He’s constructing some kind of frame over a concrete pad, a covered porch, you think. You sit out of the way, facing the copse of trees that surround the house, and the overgrown, weedy garden. It looks like it had been set up early in the season with the best of intentions, but you suspect that it was too hard on his knees and back. He’d made the mistake of planting everything straight in the ground— You probably would have suggested planter boxes, if you’d been here in the spring. Then he could have sat on a stool— It would have helped keep the bunnies out too. The few tomatoes left on an abandoned vine have little bites nibbled out of them— Almost everything has little bites taken out of it.

It makes you smother a laugh. It’s easy to imagine John railing against nature— He’s so stubborn, there’s no way he gave up for a good long time— Cursing the rabbits and deer, leaning over the once-neat rows until his back ached. There’s a pair of rusting garden shears stuck out of the ground, evidence that he quit in a fit of pique some months ago.

He’s looking at you— He has a sense for when you let happiness slip through, like a hound picking up a rabbit’s trail in the woods. You can feel the burn of those bright blue eyes on you, the heavy weight of his attention. Does he make note of everything you smile at? You wonder how long the list is now. Puppies, the Stuart kids, Lola and your cousins, and now his poor attempts at gardening. You haven’t really let much else get past your careful, polite mask, knowing full well that stone-walling him is your best defence. He’s searching for an opening, and once he finds it, he’ll pop you open like a clam.

It seems inevitable. Still, he’ll have to work for it, if he wants you to let him in. He’s already set himself the first of his Herculean tasks, to get you painting again. It would be easier to face the Nemean lion. Your grief has sharp teeth, unblunted even after a decade, still dug deep into your heart.

“You aren’t painting,” John says in your ear. His hands settle on your shoulders, holding you in your seat when surprise would launch you a few centimetres into the air.

You turn your head to look at him, and he’s far too close. “You aren’t working.”

“Takin’ a break. You look like you’re thinkin’ hard about something. What’s on your mind, Doll?”

“Your garden. Must have been a storm of misfortunes to make you give up.”

“Few things get the better of me, but this was one of ‘em. Have to settle for buyin’ produce at the shops like everyone else.”

“It’s not really so hard.”

“You the expert in gardening?”

“No, I just used to help my gran with her garden. Picked up a thing or two about keeping green things alive.” You take a dry paintbrush and dust it over his fingertips idly.

“That the one we talked to today?” he asks.

“No, that’s Lola. Gran is the Scottish one.”

He hums, smooths out tension in your shoulders with his thumbs, catching the slightest touch of your skin at the collar of your sweater. "Didn't think you had family in the UK."

You tip your head back, looking up at him. He shifts, leaning his forearms on the back of the chair, hanging over you. "Just my Gran, she got remarried a bit before we moved to Manchester. She thought her husbands-- Well, I'll say kids, but they were full adults, older than my mam already-- She thought they were more respectable than my parents. Wouldn't categorize her as a real warm and fuzzy lady."

"You don't talk then?"

"No. Not since my parents died. We had a proper row at the funeral and she's never apologized, and I'm certainly not going to."

"Learnin' a lot about you today, Doll."

“That I’m stubborn and that I distance myself from the people that love me?” you ask, flicking the paintbrush at the tip of his nose. His whole face scrunches, and it’s kind of endearing. You’re already feeling soft about him from this morning, because Lola liked him, and because he didn’t ask if she spoke English, just launched right into Spanish that was a maybe a little rough around the edges, but good enough.

“That,” he agrees. “But I think it’s good that you hold your ground. You’re not stubborn for the sake of it, you say what needs to be said. I’d bet good money that you were in the right.”

“It doesn’t always matter who’s right and who’s wrong, John. Sometimes you have to set aside ego to make things right.”

“Tryin’ to teach an old dog new tricks?” he asks.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll teach yourself. Now go on, get. You’re distracting me.” You wrap your hands around one of his, and press a fleeting kiss to a spot between his thumb and his wrist before releasing him. “And be careful of your ankle. If you need to carry something heavy, let me help you.”

He laughs and withdraws, his shadow sliding over your page as he moves away. “Yes ma’am. You’re pretty cute when you’re bossy.”

“I’m always cute,” you say blithely.

You don’t look at him, so you miss the way he glances back over his shoulder, blue eyes burning. “You’re damn right about that.”

Ducking your head down to hide your smile, you pick your pencil up and look back to the garden. Something about the red-handled shears stuck in the soil speaks to you, so you lightly sketch it out on the page, humming to yourself quietly. The next things you need to hunt down are your headphones and the old mp3 player so you can listen to music while you paint.

There’s something soothing about hearing John work anyway. The whirr of his drill as he screwed framing lumber into place, or the buzz of his saw when he cuts pieces to size. He’s methodical, exacting— What makes him so good at building probably made him a poor gardener too. He can cut and fit pieces of wood together to make any shape he pleases, he can make a plan and nothing will fight back against it, beyond a warped bit of lumber here and there, but a garden grows as it will, and there’s no controlling the wind or the sun or the rain, let alone the creatures that might come looking for something tender and green.

That same struggle plays out between the two of you. He sees a map and a destination where you see a landscape. The journey, the exploration, is what matters to you, the light and shadow, the soft growing things and the hungry teeth that nip at the roots. In his mind he’s already built a house at the top of the hill, and he wants to pull you inside, lay you down, plant his seeds in a different garden, watch something new grow. It’s not simply impatience, but a need for control, for surety.

He exerts that control outwards, bending the world to the shape he likes. You’ve always turned it inwards, pulling in on yourself, turning your life into a safe little cocoon, turning deprivation and isolation into an art. Constructing masks to get you through, reliable scripts, being whomever you need to be to make things easier.

And perhaps it was easy, but it was lonely too.

Maybe they really had done you a favour. By pulling you out of your comfortable routine, they’ve forced you to face yourself, for the first time in ages, to ask yourself what it is that you want, to see who you are.

You feel like a butterfly, wings still damp and unfurling, perched in John’s hand. He could risk letting you fly away, or he could force you to stay by destroying some integral part of you. There’s no telling which path he intends to take, not yet.

You can just hope.

It might be insane— It certainly feels insane— but you really want him to be a good man. Not just out of self-preservation, although it probably weighs something in the equation, but because you want him. He’s right when he says there’s something here, something that’s been rolling around in the back of your mind since Ghost dumped you in his lap. It hasn’t even been a week, but it feels longer.

You keep half an eye on him while you put the first pale washes of colour onto paper. A few small versions first, to get a handle on light and shadow, colour values, just to remember how to mix colours the way you want to, and then start on the larger version, feeling a little more confident.

You’ve just blocked in the base colours when you notice that John’s limping again, and showing no sign of stopping his work. Sighing, you set your paintbrush down and stand. “John,” you say gently, putting yourself in the path between the saw set up and his lumber pile. “It’s time to take a break.”

“No, I’m fine, Doll. Get back to your painting.” He tries to move around you, but you side-step and block his path again. “It’s just a sprain,” he says, exasperated. “I’ve worked through worse.”

As if that was a good reason to ignore pain. “And you never considered that maybe you shouldn’t have had to?”

He frowns down at you. The difference in your heights has to be at least a foot, but he has a funny way of tucking in his chin and hanging his head when you’re standing close like this, and looking at you straight on anyway. A soft little hand settles on his stomach, unbidden— You’re not sure that you’ve instigated contact with him before, it’s always been him reaching out for you, his big hands achingly gentle. Is anyone ever gentle with him? Is he ever gentle with himself?

“The work will still be here tomorrow,” you remind him. “You have time to rest.”

A raindrop splashes on your outstretching arm. The two of you look up in tandem, at a heavy grey cloud that’s rolled over head— It hasn’t blocked out the sun yet, and neither of you had noticed it creeping up— and then at each other. “Guess the weather agrees with you,” John says.

You both scramble apart and into action. John covers the pile of lumber and the saw with tarps, weighed down with a few odd bricks so they won’t blow away, and you quickly pack up the water colours and your paintings. You don’t get there in time to stop a few splashes of rain from hitting the page, but you get everything inside before it’s completely soaked and set it on the kitchen table for the moment.

While you’re filling the kettle and looking outside, watching the rain splash against the window, John comes in too, and looks at your work. “The rain ruined it,” he says. “I should have been paying more attention to the weather.” There’s guilt in his voice, as if it’s his fault that the rain chose to fall where and when it did.

You set the kettle to boil, and join him, studying the paintings. Each of them unrefined— The smaller ones are just work-ups anyway, but the raindrops have warped the colours, creating voids with saturated edges. You wouldn’t say they’re ruined. There’s an artistry to incident, story preserved on paper in a way that your art wouldn’t do alone.

“No, I like it better this way,” you say decisively. “It underlines the theme of futility, don’t you think? How we’re at the mercy of the weather, whether we like it or not.”

“S’pose so,” he admits grudgingly.

His mouth is set so it almost disappears under his moustache. He really does hate the reminder that he has no control over some things. You dash upstairs and grab a couple of towels and tuck them under your arm, and take John’s hand, leading him out onto the front porch.

He follows you without resistance, although there’s a funny, curious look on his face. “What’re you doing?”

You let go, and put the towels down on the bench. “What does it look like I’m doing?” The rain is coming steadily now, the sky turned darker, sun all but blotted out, and it’s cold on your skin when you step out from the shelter and into the downpour. You throw your arms out and spin, laughing.

There are many things in this life that you can’t control. Things that are fixed, unchanged and immovable, laws of nature, the whims of weather, and Captain John Price. But you have choices too. You can try to move a mountain, but you’d be better climbing over it. You can choose to struggle against the current, or let it sweep you along. You can dance in the rain rather than wish it were sunny.

And you can hold out your hand, and invite John to dance with you.

Image Credits: Banner Dividers

[willows-writings]

‼️This post is part of a choose your own adventure series and is not meant to be read stand-alone. Click HERE to go to the masterlist and Chapter beginnings‼️

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Go to sleep

Prologue

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"Sammy" With your free hand you lightly hit the girl supporting you "Sammy, I'm tireddd."

Sam lets out a sigh and starts to drag you away. "Bye guys, I hope you make the right decision."

You close your eyes and lean againist Sam trusting her to take you somewhere as the world spins beneath your eyelids. By the time you open then again you are in a room lit by a fire that you can see Beth standing by and a couch in front of it that holds your boyfriend.

"Joshhhh" you break off from Sam and stumble to the couch, nearly tripping over the edge of it before flopping down on top of the man already laying there.

"Y/n babyyy my gorgeous amazing other half." His words were also slurred and his arms clumsily come up to curl around you tightly as he buries his face in your hair. You giggle and turn your face towards the fire to find Beth looking at the two of you fondly.

"Hiii Elizabeth, Bethy, my lovely friend." You reach the hand closest out to her and she takes it and gives it a little squeeze.

"Hi y/n. Partied hard?" She's smiling in a way that says she's already taken pictures of the scene to use as blackmail later on.

"Ugh yes, and just give me like thirty minutes and I will be ready to party again." As you say this your eyes drift further closed and you feel yourself relaxing more and more into Josh.

"Mhm sure." She snorts and lets go of your hand which you wrap around Josh. "Sleep well y/n, we can party tomorrow night."

You hum contently and close your eyes. You nestle your face into the crook of Josh's neck and settle further into your comfy human pillow. Between the heat of your boyfriend and the fire, you find yourself drifting off to sleep to the quiet crackle of wood, and breathing of Josh in minutes.

ʚїɞ

The way you wake up isn't quiet.

Instead of soft fire glow it's harsh red and blue lights. Instead of soft breathing it's loud voices and the crackle of walkie-talkies.

Those sounds stay for weeks until suddenly it's quiet. Quiet as in feelings of regret and grief. Quiet as in sobbing over a closed case and two graves.

You think you prefer the sirens.

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End of Prologue

Chapter 1

OBaC Masterlist

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Prologue is finished! Sorry if this isn't accurate to how you personally would act drunk. Featuring a little fluffy moment with Josh and Beth before the bad stuff. :( Did all the talk of seeing Hannah and Beth later make you sad hehe. I felt evil putting that in. The other options just had a bit more dialogue between reader and the group, feel free to go back and read it!

Anyways I'm putting the text for the beginning of Chapter 1 below but I need to rewatch some of the game first so I can write everything accurately. It will be linked when it's done which will most likely be later this week or early next week! As always likes, reblogs and comments are appriciated!