#heart beats. write privately and please share me

[risherrd]

#heart beats. write privately and please share me

[queers-gambit]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ My personal volkov (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : max verstappen x fem reader

summary : max verstappen got married, and his fiancé cannot stop sharing their twisted love

tw : suggestive, fluff

a/n : thank you so much to @amberjazmyn for suggesting this ! lysm 🫶🏻 also, if not obvious, the fic contains references of twisted love by Ana Huang 🫶🏻

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by user1, user2, maxverstappen1, yncooper and 2,482,492 others

landonorris helping him take over the husband duties

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fransisca.gnomes good job with the ring max 🌟💪🏻

maxverstappen1 your approval was only needed 🙄

maxverstappen1 aslo norris, I WAS SUPPOSED TO POST THE PICTURES, I was supposed to announce MY ENGAGEMENT

landonorris best friends right ? maxverstappen1 meet me in Abu Dhabi

user1 AHAHAHAHA

user2 MOM AND DAD ARE MARRIED

user3 MR AND MRS VERSTAPPEN !?

user4 I want to taste both max and the pasta he made -

charlesleclerc Y/N, you sure you want to deal with his anger issues for life !?

maxverstappen1 WHAT ANGER ISSUES!?

yncooper exactly the way you are screaming over text in CAPS

yncooper and yes Charles, those anger issues lead tobest fucking of my life

maxverstappen1 Y/N!? HELLO!?

charlesleclerc I regret saying anything

lewishamilton then please calm him before every race, this lad is climbing over my car every time 🫷🏻

georgerussell you are using an emoji !?

lewishamilton so what ? 🤺

georgerussell you need to learn the correct usage of them

user5 they forgot we can see this-

user6 the freakiness on public account !?

user7 I don’t even want to imagine the private -

user8 no worries, some nudes might be there 🍑

user9 BUNDA

user10 🗿💀

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, user1, user2, and 283,391 others

yncooper engaged men do it faster 😮‍💨🌟

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user1 yn never beating the freaky allegations

user2 I won’t be surprised if max whips out handcuffs

user3 they definitely spend millions on bdsm

user4 the dress has easier access-

user5 WHY ARE THE FANS MATCHING THE FREAKINESS !?

maxverstappen1 my skills were top notch since d1

yncooper true, best first date ever 🫶🏻

user6 YALL TELLING ME THEY GOT FREAKY ON FIRST DATE !?

user7 I won’t be surprised if they were just dating for 2 months

user6 surprisingly , they waited for two years 💀

user8 PROJECT VERSTAPPEN IS GOING TO HAVE SOME FINE LOOKS?

user9 blonde, blue eyes, rich parents, yup I would get my kid to befriend their kid

user10 their kid or befriend the kid’s parents 🗿

user11 MAX WINNING THE 100 WDC

user12 that’s biologically impossible 🦅

charlesleclerc do you both bother reading what your fans write ?

yncooper yes, sadly me and max don’t have twisted love

user13 DID SHE QOUTE TWISTED LOVE !?

user14 max and Alex volkov….

user15 THATS A SMASH

user16 I get a TMI every time she posts ✋🏻

liked by maxverstappen, mclaren and 1,485,398 others

redbullracing the three aspects of happy married life “ Stress, tears and beer” 🍻

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user1 my wife said they quoted perfectly 🗿

user2 admin has marriage trauma

user3 admin got too real 💀

user4 max is going after the admin with a knife for posting that pic

user5 them crying on the altar 😭

user6 they are so cute 😭🥹

maxverstappen1 the middle and last picture is perfect ❤️

redbullracing the best for the best 🌟

ynverstappen my heart 🥹 thank you for capturing the sweet and teary moments ❤️

redbullracing welcome to red fam ❤️

user7 y/n chugging down beer is somehow the most y/n thing she could do

user8 max watching y/n chug down 10 glasses of beer be like-

landonorris @ mclaren will I also get such appreciation post on my wedding ?

mclaren a wedding needs two humans Lando

landonorris I have Oscar 🧡

mclaren kindly do not engage in spoiling Oscily 🧡

user9 WE SUPPORT OSCAR AND LILY

user10 admin shutting down lando for Oscar and lily 😭

liked by maxverstappen, landonorris and 2,497,499 others

ynverstappen the eyes never lie, my Alex Volkov 💋

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carlossainz55 you both deserve the world ❤️

liked by ynverstappen

lewishamilton if you ever have marriage troubles, just call me up

maxverstappen1 says the unmarried virgin man

ynverstappen the person staying virgin for the next few month would you max and THANK YOU LEWIS FOR THE LOVELY GIFT 🫶🏻

lewishamilton your welcome yn ❤️

charlesleclerc what did he give …..

ynverstappen Cheval Blanc 1947

charlesleclerc Lewis, I am your teammate, I deserve that too 🫶🏻

landonorris you managed to click a photo max without his racing suit …

ynverstappen I have a whole album ..?

landonorris send me few

ynverstappen nude, semi-nude, shirtless or with clothes ?

comments on this post have been restricted

[luveline]

could you please write something where maybe bombshell!reader hears one of the team members teasing about how she’s torturing spencer and she kinda backs off with the flirting and maybe it’s his turn to hold her hand and call her cute names because even though he always says he doesn’t mind, maybe he does and he just doesn’t want to tell her

tysm for requesting, 1k

Spencer's hair is brown silk in the sun. You bite your tongue to hold in a compliment rearing to come out, saccharine and completely true. Looking sweet, Spence. 

You love to compliment him and especially while Hotch is out of earshot. He and Derek play pairs against two agents from a different unit, their tennis racquets a shiny FBI navy. You start to speak and bite it back —a memory flashes, a shouting stop sign. 

You'd been teasing Spencer as he left the room, something about his indecisive hair. He's cut it shorter but left his curls without product, and you love it. 

Poor guy, Emily'd murmured, lips set against the rim of her coffee cup. 

What's the matter with him? you asked, perplexed. 

Nothing, just that he spins into a total meltdown every time you guys are within ten feet of each other. He must be exhausted.

She was joking and you know that, but something deep down worries she's right. It's not fair for you to keep winding him up… Especially when Spencer might be going along with you because he isn't sure how to say no. 

What if you're forcing yourself on him? 

You're sitting together on a small blanket in the grass with Anderson and a few of the other less competitive BAU agents. You bring your bottled iced tea to your forehead to cool down, condensation wetting your hot skin. The top of your head feels as though it has the full concentration of the sun beating against it. 

Spencer looks up at your movement. He's been reading a book for pleasure, or so he says, so he isn't going a mile a minute but he's still way faster than the average Joe. "Do you want to go find some shade?" he asks. 

"You look comfortable," you say, putting your iced tea aside.

Which is to say, I don't want you to come with me, it would disrupt you. Spencer nods and turns to the brown leather of his familiar satchel, popping the buckle open to dig around inside. 

"Do you think this would be okay?" he asks, bringing out his baseball cap. 

The fabric is starchy and the brim stiff as you accept it and wedge it over your head. You don't immediately cool, but your heart spins strange loops. "Thank you," you say. Thank you, handsome, gorgeous, baby, all beg to be said. 

Spencer stays looking at you for longer than normal. 

"Do I have something on my face?" you ask, swatting self consciously at your cheeks. 

"Nothing. You look really pretty," he says. 

"Thank you." Another loop. You point at his book, fingertip hitting a creamy page with a small thud. "Is this any good?" 

"I think you'd really like it, it feels like that last book I borrowed from you, and you loved that. They're very similar. I can lend it to you when I'm done." 

"Don't rush it for my sake."

Spencer gives you a private smile. "I won't. Just because you could watch a movie at two times speed doesn't mean you should." 

Your returning smile isn't half as nice. No shared lightness, no bright eyes. You're feeling awkward and unhappy —you really like Spencer. Like, you think you could be happy together for a long long time sort of like. He's charming and sweet and no one is ever as kind to him as he deserves, which is why you're trying to be kind now by putting distance between you.

You'll be brash forever. You can't change that, and Spencer doesn't need the stress of dealing with you, not on top of everything else. 

His smile fades as yours does. Quiet, without fuss, he scoots back on the picnic blanket, putting you knee to knee. The subtle muscle of his arm presses to yours and his hand wraps gently around your wrist as he dips his head down, his cheek touching briefly to your shoulder. 

"I know it's nice, but if the heat is getting to you we should go inside," he says, his fingers sliding across your palm to slot between your own. He squeezes your hand. "Heat stroke isn't obvious at first. Do you feel woozy?"

You stare at your twined fingers. He surprises you again, being this soft with you, and being uncharacteristically forward. Or maybe not uncharacteristic at all; Spencer won't let something like timidity stop him from comforting someone that needs it. 

"Spence," you murmur, closing your eyes, face angled down. 

"What?" 

"I'm sorry if I… If I've been messing you around. But I don't think this is a good idea." 

"What's not a good idea?" 

You can't make yourself say it. Instead, you rub the back of his hand, more for your own comfort than his, your tongue like a useless lump in your mouth. 

"You're sorry? Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asks, no heed to the people sitting with you as he lets go of your hand to put his arm behind your shoulder like a shield. 

"I don't want to torture you," you say. 

Your friends love that word. You torture Spencer with your flirting and your easy affection. 

Spencer makes a face, eyes squinting and nose wrinkled. "They're just kidding when they say that. Emily, Morgan, they like making fun of me, it's like, sibling bonding or something. They don't say it because there's actually something to feel sorry about." He lowers his voice, bashful but sincere at once, "If you're torturing me, I guess I'm a masochist." 

You laugh without thinking, a breathless, girlish sound you'd regret if you had the wherewithal. "You're a masochist?" you ask. 

He takes the brim of your borrowed hat and pushes it up to unobstruct the view of your eyes. 

"If that's what it takes," he says. A hint of wryness creeps into his otherwise smooth tone. 

Despite his brave talk and his steady eye contact, his face has started to blush. A rosy hue kisses the tops of his cheeks and his nose, a dusting of pink splodges stark against his paleness. The curve of his lips seems extra tantalising now. He's very, very pretty. 

And he doesn't mind stepping in to take the reins when you're unsure of things. 

"We really should sit in the shade for a bit," he says. "Let's get drinks from the gazebo. Yeah?" 

You're halfway through a nod when he kisses your cheek too quickly for you to respond. You follow him to the gazebo without any more reluctance, weaselling your hand back into his, and attempt to pull another kiss from him.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

The Bath Tub.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here.

authors note - this photo is making me go feral and please be aware that this is my first time writing something like this so please be gentle with me :)

word count - 2k

in which, your looking for your husband backstage at his concert, and get directed by a crew member that he’s in his dressing room. things get heated the second you walk into the room, and there’s nothing like a quick quickie in the bathtub.

As you stand backstage at Wembley, the excitement and anticipation in the air are palpable. Your heart flutters with both nerves and pride, knowing that your fiancé, is about to grace the stage and captivate thousands of adoring fans. You can't help but feel a sense of overwhelming love for him, the man who stole your heart and filled your life with joy.

As you wander through the backstage area, you spot Harry's manager, Jeff, bustling about, coordinating last-minute details. With a warm smile, you approach him and ask, "Hey, Jeff, have you seen Harry? I wanted to wish him luck before the show."

Jeff looks up from his clipboard and smiles back, "Oh, hey! Haz in his dressing room. He's just getting ready."

Thanking him, you make your way to Harry's dressing room, the excitement building with each step. As you reach the door, you hesitate for a moment, not wanting to intrude on his pre-show routine. But the thought of seeing him before his big moment is too tempting to resist.

You knock lightly on the door and then slowly push it open. Inside, you hear the faint sound of murmuring. Your heart skips a beat, wondering if you should come back later. But then, you realise it's Harry's voice, and he must be talking to himself or rehearsing.

As you step further inside, you notice that the bathroom door is closed, and the sound of running water fills the room. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you approach the bathroom door quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

The murmuring gets louder as you approach, and you can't help but feel a mix of concern and intrigue. You gently push open the bathroom door, revealing a sight that takes your breath away. There, in the bathtub, sits Harry, his head hung low as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, preparing for his performance.

You stand in the doorway, feeling a mix of excitement and affection as you watch him, sitting in the bathtub. The soft, warm glow of the bathroom room lights highlights the contours of his face and the tattoos that adorn his skin. Your heart flutters at the sight, and an overwhelming sense of love washes over you.

Water trickles down his bare skin, creating rivulets that trace the lines of his muscles. The tattoos, usually captivating, now seem even more prominent against his wet, glistening skin. Each design tells a story, a piece of him permanently etched into his body, and you find yourself admiring each one with renewed fascination.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, fluttering with excitement and anticipation. You can't help but be drawn to him, his presence magnetic and captivating. As he moves, washing the water over himself, you catch glimpses of his muscles flexing, and your breath catches in your throat. The way he cares for himself with such ease and grace only deepens your admiration for him.

The sound of water fills the air, mixing with the soft murmurs of his voice as he unconsciously talks to himself, preparing for the show ahead. It's a private moment, one that makes you feel privileged to witness. You realise just how lucky you are to have him in your life, to be able to share these intimate moments with him.

His eyes, the colour of emerald green, flicker up, catching you observing him. There's a hint of surprise, but it's quickly replaced by a warm and affectionate smile that tugs at your heartstrings. You offer a shy smile in return, feeling like a fluttering butterfly yourself, captured by his gaze.

As your eyes meet his, you quickly realise that Harry has caught you staring at him. A playful glint dances in his emerald green eyes, and a mischievous smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

He knows he has your attention, and he's clearly enjoying the moment.

"What’re ymlooking at, m’love?" he teases, his voice low and smoky, sending shivers down your spine. You feel a light blush creeping up your cheeks, but you can't look away.

You remain speechless, the words caught in your throat. Instead, you see him raise his hand, gesturing for you to come closer. A mix of nerves and excitement courses through you, but you can't resist his playful invitation.

Slowly, you step forward until you're standing beside the bathtub.

His eyes never leave yours, and he leans forward, his face now mere inches from yours. You can feel the warmth radiating off his skin, and you're tempted to close the gap between your lips, but he beats you to it. He plants a soft, lingering kiss on your lips, making your heart skip a beat.

With a flirty smirk, he pulls back slightly and asks, "Are y’just going t’stand there, or are y’going t’join me?"

You let out a nervous chuckle, feeling the butterflies in your stomach intensify. "H, I don't have any spare clothes to change into."

He raises an eyebrow, a playful glimmer still in his eyes.

"Who said y’need clothes?" he teases, running his fingers gently along your arm.

Your heart races, and you can't help but give in to the temptation. You slip off your shoes and start to unbutton your shirt, feeling a mixture of excitement and vulnerability. Harry's eyes never leave you, and he bites his lower lip, clearly enjoying the show.

You climb into the bath, sitting in front of him, facing each other. The water envelops you both, creating a soothing and intimate atmosphere. Harry can't help but smile as he watches you playfully accept his invitation.

With a sparkle in his eyes, he leans forward and pulls you gently onto his lap, your bodies close but still leaving room for comfort. Your heart races with anticipation as you feel his warm embrace, and you can't resist leaning in closer to him.

The moment your lips meet, a spark ignites between you. The make-out session becomes a dance of passion and affection, each kiss more fervent than the last. Your hands find their way to his hair, running through his damp curls, while his hands gently caress your back, sending shivers down your spine.

“Wanna have some pre-show fun?”he pulls away from the kiss, slightly breathless, your lips plump due to smacking against his ones, and you nod your head, as an answer to his question.

You felt his lips fall to your neck, peppering kisses against the skin there and making sure to leave a mark there. “Harry…we’re in…we’re in a bathtub.”

“And?”

“And?”you turned to look over your shoulder to the bathroom door, making sure that it was shut. “Someone could walk in.”

“I can be quiet,” he nips at your jaw, making you inhale a small breath at the action. “Can you be quiet? Can you be quiet for me, baby?”

His words made all the heat rush to your core, that was close to his cock that was hard, brushing against the inside of your thigh from where you were sitting on his lap.

You nodded your head at his words and that was when he lowered his hand down into the water and tickled the inside of your thigh, his knuckles dragging increasingly close to your ache.

“Fuck m’life,” His gaze lowers slightly, racking his eyes over your naked torso, pupils blown. “Your heavenly, like a fucking angel.”

The next words that leave his lips have you whimpering out.

“Y’so wet f’me.” He mused, and your surprised you didn’t lose it right then and there, his fingers work and run along your clit in small circles, eyes closing slightly at the sensation radiating through your body.

“Please don’t tease me,” you whisper, chest rising and falling, even though he had barely touched you. “I don’t want your fingers, there’s no time.”

“Yeah?”His fingers continue to tease between your legs as his head tilts to the side. “Where do you want me? Tell me where and I’ll give it to you, give you anything y’ask for m’angel.”

“Inside me,” you open your eyes and lean forward, he can feel your breath on the top of his nose, “Please H…inside me.”

He retracted his hand, and lowered it even further so it was touching his aching cock. He shifted slightly so the tip of it could be seen atop of the water, it was pink, completely rock hard and if you squinted you could see it ouzing with pre-cum.

He fisted his length a few times, warming himself up a bit more, before he lifted up your hips and lined himself up with your entrance, running it up and down your folds a few times in a teasing manner before pushing inside of you with a gaped mouth.

“Shit,” Harry was trying to be quiet but he had no control when it came to you. “You feel so good, baby.”

“Always feel so good for me,” he rushed out, hips thrusting in and out of you, eager to get you both to reach your climax at the same time. “Can never get enough of you.”

Your breath is laboured as you lean your head forward and pepper kisses against the skin of his neck, where his tattoo dedicated to you was located.

“Y’gonna finish soon?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded your head, feeling your legs starting to shake at the feeling of your impending orgasm. “Uh-huh.”

Your whimpers and moans are anything but quiet as you feel your fiancés thrusts becoming slightly sloppy. The water is splashing around the two of you, head thrown back.

He leaned his hand down and pressed it against your clit, making your eyes go wide.

“I’m close…”you told him, still bouncing up and down on his length. “I’m so close…so close.”

He pressed an open mouthed kiss to your lips that were becoming slightly chapped due to the humidity of the room. “C’mon lovie, come for me, give me what I want.”

And you didn’t need to be told twice.

You came quickly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the beginning of your fiancés orgasmy started to brew. It wasn’t long after you that he came inside of you, seeing as you were on birth control.

Small whimpers emitted from his lips at the rush he felt, his forehead falling against your shoulder.

“I love you.”

“M’love you too.”

A soft knock echoes through the bathroom door, pulling you both back to reality after your intimate moment. It's Jeff, Harry's manager, reminding you that time is ticking, and the concert is just moments away.

"Hey, whatever the two of you are doing in there, hurry it up! You've got to be on stage in fifteen, you animals," Jeff's voice teases from the other side of the door.

You and Harry let out small laughs, your foreheads falling gently against each other as you catch your breath. The playfulness in Jeff's voice reminds you of the world waiting outside this private space—a world filled with thousands of eager fans, eagerly anticipating Harry's performance.

"Alright, alright, we're coming out," Harry calls out with a chuckle, not the least bit embarrassed by the interruption. He glances at you, a tender smile gracing his lips, and you can't help but feel a rush of affection for the man beside you.

As you untangle yourselves and get out of the bath, you quickly dry off and get dressed, Harry wearing a black jump suit, with pink love hearts designed on it, not shirt on underneath, leaving his tattoos on show, still feeling the warmth of the intimate moment shared. The excitement of the upcoming performance now mingles with the sense of closeness you experienced in the bathroom, creating a unique mix of emotions.

Harry opens the door to find Jeff waiting, a playful grin on his face.

"Took you two long enough," he teases.

You playfully roll your eyes and nudge Harry's shoulder. "Blame him. He started it with his flirty looks."

Harry raises an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Oh, so it's m’fault now, is it?" he retorts with a grin.

You can't help but giggle, feeling grateful for the light-heartedness that surrounds you both, even in the midst of the nerves and anticipation. With the clock ticking, you grab Harry's hand, intertwining your fingers, and make your way out of the dressing room.

[tojivu]

Hey love, can i request the jjk men (or just Gojo tbh) taking care of their SO after giving birth? That would be suuuper sweet and thank you💙💙

father and husband ⋆ gojo satoru

gojo takes care of you after giving birth + other hcs

an. i'm not done with the long ass gojo fic so i'm finishing this draft first. sorry i do not know much about birth i am a teenager writing fanfiction after all...... my google search history might make my parents think i'm pregnant

cw. sfw, f!reader, not proofread, mentions of female anatomy, suggestive jokes at the end

playing. 17 by pink sweat$, ft. joshua and dk of seventeen.

"this is so unfair, 'toru."

the thick sheets the private hospital provided you with restrained you from sitting up. sunlight pours into the room through the spaces in the blinds — the ward is awfully quiet, much unlike your expectations.

"huh?"

you turn your head towards the leather chair situated next to your bed. it's a pale beige, clashing with the various blues this hospital decorates itself with — and with the white hair of the man you call your husband.

his hair falls messily onto the material. you furrow your eyebrows and wonder what has gotten into him; he's been much quieter than usual. this was not typical satoru behaviour.

your newborn baby was getting examined and you were told it would take a bit. your family wouldn't be coming down till tomorrow morning — something you didn't mind because you were so sure satoru, your loving husband, was just as prepared as you are for the birth.

"he's got your eyes," you mutter. the anxiety was really starting to kick in now; satoru was never this quiet. ever. your attempts at making conversation echo, and it's eerie how you could forget satoru was even here if you just closed your eyes. "satoru?"

you swear you see a thick bead of sweat roll down his temple. he sits cautiously, as if he is ready to spring up into action any moment now.

"i'm so scared, [name]." gojo's voice trembles and it bounces off the walls; you feel your heart skip a beat, only to pound harder the next.

SATORU starts bawling when he gets to hold his baby after the discharge. tears run down his face like two waterfalls, staining his sweatshirt. your baby looks at him with the most curious eyes, before shutting them and returning to a deep sleep.

he holds your son as if he's fragile glass, grip firm and careful not to slip — your fingers wipe the tears pooling at his waterline and gojo can't help but look at you with absolute adoration.

"please stop crying, 'toru," you smile up at the crybaby you call your husband. "you can't drive with tears in your eyes."

he tries to speak but nothing comes out. gojo's voice cracks before saying anything and he only manages to nod, handing the baby back to you.

SATORU who makes sure to help you with whatever you need, you just need to order him around. he's just as new to this parenting thing as you are, given you are the only woman he's ever loved — patience is needed with him as much as it's needed with you.

for example: satoru would never complain about waking up early in the morning to feed your son. he'd spring out of bed, nervous yet oddly confident. he was afraid of not being fatherly enough — so, this was a wonderful start. he was extremely elated when you asked him to do such a duty the night prior.

he slips out of the sheets and sees your peaceful face, lips parted and letting out small snores; gojo knew you needed the rest after all the sleepless nights.

"good morning," satoru's softly cooing at your son, careful arms scooping him up into his chest and out of the baby blue crib (that coincidentally matches both their eyes). your son only cries in response, much to satoru's displeasure.

your husband can't help but smile down at his child, before glancing over at you a few feet away; comfortably wrapped in your shared blanket.

"mama's asleep, so you're stuck with me." he mimics a pout, but words could not describe how happy he was. your son could only stare blankly at him, giggling when he presses a gentle kiss on his forehead. "sorry, not sorry."

although the baby doesn't bond with your husband that well (yet), his determination is unwavering. he makes sure to be nearby the bedroom — but not too far away, in case something goes wrong — so his cries don't wake you.

all goes well until gojo changes your son's diaper an hour later and gets pee all over his hands, that he rushes into your bedroom for help.

"[name], baby," he bites his lip out of worry, opening the door with his dry hand and calling for you. "he peed on me—"

you give him a thank you kiss for trying anyway.

SATORU who rubs your shoulders for you, or really any other body part ever — he's a weirdly good masseuse. you often find yourself falling asleep on the couch as he kneads your pains away.

"baby," he whispers.

you three were on the couch, watching a movie in the late evening. your groans don't go unnoticed, and he knows you've been holding your baby for quite some time in hopes of calming him down.

"psst, baby." satoru repeats, the arm around your shoulder tapping the flesh of yours. "aren't you tired?"

"a little," you sigh. "he might wake up if i put him down."

"nah," satoru caresses your shoulder gently. "put him down for a minute. i'll help."

"help?"

"did you know i give really good massages?" satoru smirks, "your husband's crazy talented, i know."

you raise an eyebrow. you've never heard of gojo satoru massaging people — you're a little skeptical, but put down your son in the bassinet next to the couch nonetheless.

the ache in your shoulder and back were a little too intense to bear, now. satoru could tell with the way you were shifting around in your position every 5 minutes.

well, all your doubt washes away almost as fast as it came — you find yourself knocked out on the couch for the next hour, your head against satoru's shoulder.

SATORU who makes sure to give you extra kisses and extra hugs during this period of change.

he understands how difficult it must be for you — although maybe not to the full extent, considering he doesn't have a uterus — but he wants to try, and try he does.

whenever you have baby blues, he's always there. he kisses the tears off your cheeks, wiping them away with his thumb and whispering soft praises in your ears.

satoru couldn't express how grateful he is to you for giving him a son to love, to raise with you. he can only attempt to say it in words and through kisses, although he feels that may never be enough.

"i-i'm sorry for waking you, 'toru," you sniffle, even if your body language screams the opposite — your head is buried in satoru's chest and he has his hands running through your hair.

"shh, it's okay baby — don't be sorry," he holds your body close to him with his other hand, tracing circles onto the thin fabric of your clothes. "i'm here."

other times, you break down while trying to take care of your son — sometimes the cries get too loud and overwhelming, and everything you do just seems to make it worse.

satoru hears your crying and he immediately rushes over (if he wasn't already in the room with you), taking your son from your hands and trying to calm him down himself. he'll press a kiss onto your forehead, using his free hand to wipe your tears away — and he'll tell you to let him take over.

"shit," he swears under his breath, rushing into the room and seeing your tear-stained face; satoru instinctively reaches for the baby and you hand him over. "let me do it, okay?"

you nod, desperately wiping your face with the sleeves of your hoodie — before satoru uses his right hand to wipe them for you, his lips planted on your forehead.

"i'm s-sorry," you mutter, feeling a little better when you feel the skin of your husband on yours. "i don't know what to do—"

"it's okay, baby," he smiles, tucking stray hairs behind your ears as you continue to calm yourself down; your baby is still crying, and satoru looks oddly calm as opposed to you. "let me take over for a bit."

sure, he gets overwhelmed sometimes; but he needs to be your glue in case you can't pull yourself together. even if he's clueless too, he has to be strong for you — he can imagine the chaos that would ensue if he wasn't.

when he puts the baby to sleep half an hour later, he returns to the bedroom to find you in bed: wrapped in a blanket with tissues in your hands.

satoru feels his heart break at the sight.

he climbs into bed with you and his arms find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him; his warmth feels like the medicine you've been needing this entire time, and it's almost as if all your anxiety dissipates.

"you did good today," his cold breath tickles the back of your neck, and you feel his nose bump at your nape. "i'm proud of you."

"it was all you this time," you reply in a hushed voice, throat hurting at the tears you were trying to keep in. "i don't know what i'd do—"

"no," satoru interrupts you. "i couldn't feed the baby this morning, and you did it instead — remember?"

"i remember. you knocked over the formula."

"mhm," satoru hums, his fingers intertwining with yours. "and you did it in only 2 minutes. you're too good at this baby thing, [name]."

"you don't seem so scared anymore, satoru."

you hear a laugh escape from your husband's lips. "thanks to you," and he's pressing kisses along the outline of your shoulder and neck. "i'm the strongest, after all — what can i not do?"

"you're the cockiest, too," you snicker, and you only earn a dramatic gasp from the man behind you.

"don't talk about cock with me right now."

your jaw drops slightly, before you flip your body over to face satoru's direction: he has an annoying smirk painted on his face. "you are so disgusting, satoru."

"you know you love me—" and just as satoru's leaning in for a kiss on the lips, cries from the nursery room erupt.

"man."

writers block is real i think

[i2ycat]

playing4u

pairing non-idol!heeseung x fem!reader synopsis college boy heeseung that dedicates his songs to u, plays the guitar for u and never fails to sing u to sleep whenever u want genre college au, established relationship in the second half, fluff warnings not proofread, down bad heeseung… main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

before u guys started dating

one thing about u and heeseung is that u both LIVE, LAUGH and LOVE music

picture this; u guys are at a music festival, probably something like head in the clouds

u’re singing ur heart out to niki’s set list (as u should) and heeseung, who was just beside u, happened to turn his head at ur direction

and GOD. FUCKING. DAMN.

boy was absolutely starstruck the moment he laid eyes on u, despite the scorching heat that rendered u a sweaty mess

he felt like he was in a movie

and he swore he felt his heart thumping faster and faster, which definitely wasn’t because of the bass or the crowd around him

he was too scared to ask for ur number right there and then, because honestly he’s highkey lowkey a loser…

he doesn’t have the rizz people think he has!

by the end of the night, he left the venue feeling defeated. the post-concert blues weren’t even hitting the way it should because all he could think about was u

in the next following days, he’s probably written songs about how he saw the prettiest girl but she got away, posting them on his private, for only his friends to see

“WHO IS THE GIRL.” jungwon drills heeseung for answers during a group game night at their dorm, which piques the interest of everyone else because when has heeseung ever shown this much interest in a girl, to the point where he would write literal SONGS FOR SAID GIRL??

heeseung describes the girl in perfect detail, from the colour of your hair to the tattoo u had on ur arm

“hey… isn’t he just describing y/n?” niki asks, trying to connect the dots with heeseung’s description of u and his own memory

“didn’t she post a story about head in the clouds a few days ago as well?? i swear i saw it.” sunoo adds as he pulls out his phone, “wait let me find her instagram,” and by this time heeseung could already feel the familiar rhythm of his heart thumping to the same beat it did on the day of the festival

“is this her?”

heeseung couldn’t believe his eyes. after all this time (it’s only been a week please), he finally was able to put a name to his mystery girl!

when i tell this man LEAPED when he found out that u both had mutual friends all this time… yea he was already down BAD.

more under cut!

after u guys started dating

it only took a month or two of talking for u to fall head over heels for heeseung

i mean how could u not when he’s so beyond perfect???

he’s never failed to pick u up from ur classes whenever he could, give u a shoulder to cry on when u were stressed about ur finals, and plan the majority of ur dates without u ever lifting a finger— u were his princess and he made very sure that u and everyone else knew it

because of ur joint interests in music, u guys would always send each other music that u’re currently listening to

“flo milli?”

“what? sometimes guys want to feel like a bad bitch too.”

other than sharing music, heeseung would 100% sing u to sleep whenever u ask for it… actually, atp u don’t even need to ask for it anymore because he already knows

u guys would be on the bed, and as his hands snakes around u to caress ur head lovingly, hee would start humming a soft tune

the vibrations of it lulling u closer to sleep

and when u actually fall asleep, he would kiss ur head goodnight and flick the bed lights off, tucking himself closer to u :((

before u guys even started dating, heeseung was already writing songs about u, so after dating, the amount of songs dedicated to and for u would only increase tenfold

he’d record them just for ur ears to hear

and when he’s letting u hear the songs he’s made, he always has this lovestruck smile on his face, eyes totally glossed over and heart in his hand for you take…

u’ve become his ultimate muse, his inspiration in all aspects of his life

u could tell just how much he loves you from the songs he makes— the melody, the emotions he sings with, the lyrics… all of it just screams that he’s totally head over heels for u

he would even let u have ur moment in his songs, either singing or just talking in the background… because he always wants to incorporate u into his art

when heeseung does decide to post the music he makes, he always makes sure to use ur photos as the cover because almost every song is about u and for u 😭 man physically cannot shut up about u

he’s talked all of his friends ears off ab how u cute u looked in his hoodie, how u pretty u were yesterday, and the day before that and probably tomorrow as well

there would be a point in time when u randomly mentioned that u found guys who play the guitar attractive and u know what heeseung did that day? applied for a guitar class, only to showcase what he’s learnt so far a few weeks later

“hee, i didn’t even know u played the guitar?”

“well i just started learning, like, 3 weeks ago.”

“and you’re already this good?”

“what can i say? i’m a determined man.”

© i2ycat 2024

[sourbites]

If ur okay with doing headcanons do you have any honeymoon ones for james please and thank you

HIIII ANON! thank you so much for my first headcannon request. also, thank you for asking for something sweet which cheered me up. been brushed with the kiss of plague since last week (i have a cold), so i haven't been up to writing much. with that being said, if this is sucky, i am lowkey whiskey-drunk, so please blame it on that. i didn't know if you wanted anything smutty, so i left it at the end— feel free to skip it if you didn't want it. enjoy! <3

Honeymoon James HCS:

Big ole sweetie pie. From the second you guys hop on the plane to the second you get home after the festivities, he's doting on you. He's probably still suuuper loved up from the nuptial thrill of getting married, and we all know he's real sentimental, so he really, really wants you to have a phenomenal time. In his eyes, the honeymoon sets the tone for the marriage, so a good honeymoon is essential to a thriving relationshsip. Every second he's like, "Can I get you a drink?" "Are your bags too heavy?" "Too cold? Want my jacket?" He lives and breathes to see you happy right now.

He's content to go anywhere for a honeymoon trip, so long as there's things for him to do. If you want a beach resort, he'll pack his fishing rod. If you want to cosy up in a winter cabin somewhere, he'll bring his ski boots. He just wants you happy. You get first pick of everything.

James is a very tactile guy, especially with someone he's so smitten with. He's touchy all the time. But with the person he loves, on their honeymoon, with that belly-fluttering dreaminess of having the new weight of wedding rings on fingers? Yeah, he's a goner.

Will find any excuse to touch you. If you wear makeup, he's watching you in the mirror, sweeping his hands all over your sides. If you got some food on your lip, he's brushing his thumb against your skin so sweetly that he just ends up letting his wandering hand trace over your jaw, your throat, until he kind of just... forgets there's something on your face.

His wedding vows to you were wholly original, and very genuine. Every night, he scoops you into his arms in bed, and through warm kisses to your temple, he whispers them to you. James brushes his lips against your slow, easy pulse, and presses kiss after kiss after kiss, so lazily that he's just mouthing your skin at this point. With every pause of the beat of your heart, he kisses your skin. "You are safe with me," Kiss, "You are loved by me," Kiss, "You are welcome to me." It's his new routine.

He's a pretty private person, so he probably would only share one or two, but he'd take so many photos. Mostly of you. Some of the landscape, of activities you do together. He just wants to document everything. He's never been so at peace, so he doesn't want to forget a single second of the honeymoon. If you printed out his photos and put them in a cute photo book or even framed a few of them, he'd probably want to marry you all over again.

James wakes up each morning wanting you. When you first started dating, it was your voice. Then your opinions on matters. Your skin, your scent. Now it is your heart, your hands, the peace your presence brings him. Would definitely be the type of guy to want to start his days of being your husband by having your naked body on his. Sure, sometimes he's just incredibly horny— but a lot of the time, sex also brings this intimacy that he's never felt in his life before you. Your bodies just blur together and he's obsessed with it. His libido is all-consuming, especially now he's married. He'd wake you with the usual hungry kisses, and if you ran your hands along his scalding muscle, threaded them through his dirty blond hair, he'd take the hint. And it'd make him so giddy the rest of the day. Even though you're married, he still lights up at your touch, he swoons at any morsel of flirting you feed him. His whole expression is just puppy-dog awe, practically saying: 'Oh, you want this! You want me!'

Even after the honeymoon, James is still amazed that he's your husband. If you end up taking his surname, and he'd see letters addressed to your new name, he'd just trace over the printed out letters. He might have the urge to kiss the paper, just to get a slight taste of his love. It looks so right on you, his surname— your surname. Sometimes he'd just think to himself, what did his name mean before you? What did his fingers do before they held you? How was he even alive before he got a taste of this love?

When he gets a teensy bit more secure that yes, you have accepted him, and that you two are forever, he's fully comfortable with everything. He never really shook off that schoolboy shyness until he married you. But the guy definitely has a breeding kink. He cums a lot anyway, but especially when he can fill you up with it. Something about seeing your skin, your spent cunt all leaky with his opaque, milk-tinted cum is so satisfying to him. Feeling raw flesh, all hot and wet and aching, being able to empty everything within you, see your tummy bulge with him, it drives him crazy.

Following that note, he'd have this weirdo fetish (that isn't actually weird at all) of cumming on your wedding ring. He'd lay his hard cock on your slit, gathering your slick and his precum until he hits that sweet spot of delicious friction. He'd interlace his hand with yours, because he can't breathe without you. He'd paint your abdomen and wedding ring in those hot ropes of cum, saturating the sparkling stones in the wedding band until it doesn't shimmer with those glittery rainbows anymore. But don't worry, he'll clean it for you afterwards. And then do it again.

[weeping-statue]

Hi, can I get a scenario with yandere Chrollo and kidnapped afab reader where Chrollo overheard reader’s secret 18+ thoughts about him

Ofc<3 I hope you enjoy! Request are open!

“I wasn’t supposed to hear that, but I think deep down you wanted me too.”

-Nsfw- minors dni

———————————————————————

Chrollo was a.. simple man.

As long as you were behaving and kind, you could have your bit of freedom.

Meaning, walking around without supervision, sleeping next to him, feeding yourself, and maybe visits to the outdoor garden that he installed just for you.

But when you had your outbursts, he couldn’t just be lenient. No, cause then you’d get more ballsy, there might even be belief you could walk all over him. And as much as he loved you, he couldn’t have that.

There were places and roles you had to abide by. But you’d learn it one way or another, either by trial and error, or by brute force.

He had been denying you the outdoors, his time, and touch, for too long, which ended up making you stir crazy. Of course you knew your captor was an incredibly evil man, that had a lot of things to do. But if he was going to hide you away from the world until you both took your last breath, at least make it enjoyable.

You lay in your shared bed, hand softly rubbing circles on your clit as you thought of him. Oh how you missed him. The times he used to rub your thighs, softly trailing up to the place you desperately needed him.

A part of you started to worry he didn’t want you anymore, that maybe he found a new woman to focus his attention on and this was his subtle way of telling you it’s over.

But the sparks of pleasure from where you were touching began to overwhelm your worry with a new feeling. Gentle whimpers grew louder, the more wet you became. Moaning out his name as a finger plunged into your tight hole. “Chrollo- I need you so badly, please just fuck me, I promise I’ll be good-”

Eyes screwed shut, feeling the pleasure build. You didn’t even notice Chrollo silently listening in through the crack of your door. A hand slowly reaching his pants to palm his growing erection with a hint of shame.

How disgusting does he have to be to do this outside where any of his members could see. Such an act, is an extremely private matter, that nobody should even know about.

But he can’t help it, not when you’re moaning out for him. It just stirs up something inside of Chrollo that makes his brain go numb.

Fingers find their way to his belt, slowly relieving himself of the tight confines of his pants. The dull ache of his drooling member suddenly becomes too much, and his hand gathers up the precum, using it as lube.

His free hand wraps around his mouth in case anything slips from them. Ears focused on your sweet voice to spur him on, as a growing Shlick sound echos from the hallway.

The tip has become a pretty pink, as his palm speeds up. The friction only causing him to make the smallest sounds. It wasn’t enough, he needed you too. Only carefully and haphazardly pulling up his underwear along with his pants did he barge into the room, panting.

“Sorry, for startling you. But- Mhm, I can’t help myself anymore.” He spoke quickly. Walking up to the bed you were lying in, and pulling his shirt off. Not truly caring.

Your heart was beating quickly, mainly cause he scared the fuck out of you, but also because you were getting what you so desperately wanted.

His thighs were in between yours as the slightly wet hands glide up to your knees, leaving gentle kisses to your collarbone.

Mumbling,

“I wasn’t supposed to hear that, but I think deep down you wanted me too. Now let me make it up to you for eavesdropping, my dear.”

———————————————————————

I suck at writing smut or anything 18+

[sky-is-the-limit]

Smut writers feel free to write this! (Feminine pronouns used but feel free to change it!) (+18/MDNI)

FYI: I'm not a writer nor good at this! Just thirsty:)

I had a filthy thought of being railed by Price in the common area outside the bathrooms and Gaz accidentally walks in 👀 (gifs below inspired me).

////

You were being bratty/needy as fuck even though you knew it was a hectic day, especially for him. At first you felt a little hurt that he brushed you off the first time when you started kissing his neck while he was signing some paperwork for the next mission. "Not now, doll. Can't you see I'm busy?" He murmured the last words almost as a whisper so you know that it's the work that's annoying him and not you.

"Come on, Captain, can't you take a little break for your girl?" You purred in his ear, hands slowly trailing down his chest over the tight military shirt he knows drives you crazy when he wears it (he was about to throw it away because it was too tight on him until he saw you practically drooling and being the lil shit he is, he started wearing it more often)

"Don't you have anything more productive to do, private, than bother your Captain?" Oh now it's on. His tone was serious as if he was scolding a child, making you stand up straight, rolling your eyes at his typical way of treating you when you're 'overstepping'.

"You weren't complaining this morning about my productivity, Captain." You reply to his dismissive comment, full of sarcasm, crossing your arms over your chest as you make your way in front of his desk. "In fact, you were quite content with my mouth on your c-" a knock on the door makes you take 3 steps back, a playful smirk on your face as you watch Price take a deep breath trying to process both your boldness and someone almost walking in on you, talking about your forbidden affair with him.

"Uh, is this a bad time?" Kyle awkwardly says, holding the door open not daring to walk inside, obviously uncomfortable from the staring contest you and Price share, neither backing down.

"No, Sergeant, private Y/L/N was just leaving." Price mumbles with a raised eyebrow, only turning his gaze towards the door for a second then back at you, indicating that you have to leave before he actually gets mad.

On your way out, you briefly touch Kyle's arm, give him a small smile before exiting Price's office. You know John is a confident man. In his skills, his work, the way he carries himself with authority in every room he steps in. The only thing that makes him feel uneasy is when younger men try to steal your attention. Not because he doesn't trust you, he knows that the second he asks for you to get on your knees, you comply better than any soldier he ever had to command to follow an order and he always praises you for it.

"Look at my eager girl, so desperate to please her Captain huh?"

"Eyes up when you take me in, I want to stare into those pretty eyes, soldier."

"You can't be disrespectful with your mouth full, now can you?"

The insecurity that you could fall for a younger, charming man always creeps in his mind yet he pushes the thought away, cursing himself at the possibility he might have stronger feelings for you than just the physical pleasure you two share almost every night.

/

10:30pm. You've been staring at the clock on the wall an hour now, waiting for the right time to come. You know Price always goes into the showers at this exact time, every single night before he goes to sleep as the showers are always empty. Exhausted soldiers and staff always in bed by then, leaving the luxury of a quiet, warm shower to himself.

You step into the common area timidly, checking if anyone's around but as expected, you find it empty and cold like it always is this late at night. No sound but the water running inside the nearest shower and the fast beating of your anxious heart as you slowly strip naked. It scares you how bad you want him, how he's your first thought in the morning and the last before you fall asleep. How you, a strong, independent and confident woman can feel so fragile, so desperate to please his every desire, how the second he asks you to go to his room, you waste no time, trailing behind him like a lost puppy. It's pathetic really, but for him? You'd do far worse.

With nothing but a towel wrapped around your naked body, you slowly push the curtain of the shower back, taking in the full sight in front of you. Yeah, you'd do anything for him and he knows it. He doesn't even flinch or turn around, he knows it's you. It's always you. You can see the smirk playing on his lips before he speaks with that husky, deep voice that makes your knees go weak, every fucking time.

"I don't fuck you one day and you come running to me, hm?" Price turns around slowly, eyeing you up and down before his fingers touch the top of the towel, softly caressing your skin. "Desperation looks so fucking good on you sweetheart" He leans closer to whisper in your ear before his fingers make the towel drop on the wet floor, the cold air sending a shiver down your spine as he pushes you gently out of the shower, to the nearest wall.

"I left my girl all needy and now I have to make up for it, don't I?" He whispers on your neck as his lips leave wet, sloppy kisses on your burning skin. Before you can lean back onto the wall to enjoy his attention, he places his hand on your back and with a swift move, pushes you in the common area. The look of surprise on your face as you turn to look at him must be the best entertainment he has had the last couple of days.

"What if someone walks in? Can't we go back into the shower?" You grab the nearest towel but before you can wrap it around yourself, he backs you up against the cold table in the middle of the room, both his hands placed on each side of you so you can't move.

"You wanted to sneak up on me and couldn't wait until I finished my shower." You open your mouth to answer with a pathetic excuse you know damn well wouldn't work on him but his hands cut you off before you even try, lifting you up from your thighs onto the cold steeled table. "You know it is the only time I get to have some peace and quiet but you being the greedy little slut that you are, couldn't wait a few more minutes huh?" He raises his voice, tone changed into the one he always uses when you're being a brat and fuck, you wouldn't want it any other way. The smirk forming on your lips and the intentional roll of your eyes must have pressed a button as he pushes your shoulders down so now you're laying on the table, feeling his hands trail down from your waist to your thighs, pushing them open.

"Now you're gonna get fucked like you want so bad, out in the open. If you behaved nicely, you'd be laying down on a soft bed but you decided to be a brat tonight" His grip tightens around your thighs, certain to leave bruises, as he lowers himself so his head is inches away from your soaked entrance, his eyes piercing yours, not breaking eye contact like his life depends on it.

"And you're gonna get treated like one." With one quick move he puts both of your legs on his shoulders, dragging you across the table, the cold metal and unexpected action letting a loud moan leave your mouth before you cover it with your palm in an attempt to stay quiet, unsuccessfully so.

"What the-" Oh fuck. You freeze in your tracks as a second voice comes from behind the lockers, making you jump up immediately. Your terrified gaze slowly meets Kyle's equally frightened eyes as his mouth hangs open to the sight in front of him, frozen in place with only a towel wrapped around his waist. You knew it was risky, just because the showers were always empty around that time, didn't mean that an exception was out of the question. It just happened to be tonight.

"I'm just gonna- fuck, I- bye" Gaz mumbles quickly, the confusion of this unfortunate, awkward encounter visibly written on his face but before he can walk out, so you can die comfortably in shame, the next sentence makes your blood run cold.

"Not so fast, Sergeant." Price commands, his expression unbothered if not unsurprising, like he wanted this to happen. He wanted someone to walk in.

"You're gonna sit on that chair and you're gonna watch how brats like her deserve to be treated."

[runnning-outof-time]

At the Last Possible Minute | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @acewritesfics

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Shocked by Tommy's decision to go fight in France, (Y/N) holds all of her emotions in until the last possible minute.

Warnings: mentions of going to fight in war

Word Count: 3068

A/N: I’m sorry it took super long for me to write this, Ace, but here is the original idea that I had for the story that then became ‘The Good I’ll Do’. I used the prompt ‘what’s going on in that head of yours?’ from the list you shared ages ago … I guess this came in perfect time for your one year anniversary of your account - thank you for all of the amazing fics you’ve blessed us with. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"I'm sorry I'm late, I...goodness, what's the occasion?" (Y/N) stopped her initial apology to comment on the number of people inhabiting the living room of the Shelby family's Watery Lane home. Almost every seat in the room was full, and if (Y/N) hadn't noticed their solemn expressions, she would have thought that there was a celebration happening. "Has something happened?" she asked, her brows furrowing together in confusion.

No one said anything outright, instead exchanging glances at one another. The silence was making (Y/N)'s heart rate quicken by the second. And then she saw Tommy. He was wearing an expression that she'd only seen a handful of times over the several years that she'd been friends with him, the last being when he told her of his mother's passing. Seeing it made her stomach drop.

"You should be the one to tell her, Tom," Arthur mumbled privately to his brother, but (Y/N) was able to hear him due to the quietness in the room.

"Tell me what?" she couldn't help but ask, her worry rising by the second.

Tommy looked at (Y/N), his mind reeling as he tried to think of a way to break the news to her. He watched her expression become even more dire with each second that passed. It was breaking his heart. After what felt like ages, he finally spoke: "come with me, (Y/N)," he said to her, extending his hand in her direction as he approached her.

"To where?" (Y/N) asked another question as she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the stairs. "Tommy...what's going on?" she asked as they walked down the small hallway of the second floor, confusion now present in her words.

"I wanted to tell you in private," he began, opening the door to his bedroom and leading her over to the bed that sat tucked in the corner so that they could both sit on it.

"Tell me what?" she continued to try to pull answers out of him, hating that it was taking him so long to tell her what so clearly was serious news.

Tommy inhaled deeply, holding his breath for a moment as he tried to collect himself. He exhaled it slowly before he took her hands into his. "I love you, (Y/N)..."

(Y/N)'s heart dropped at the sound of his voice, and she immediately thought the worst. "What's going on, Tommy? Please stop beating around the bush and just tell me," she urged him. She figured that if he was going to break her heart, might as well rip off the bandage.

"Me brothers and I have signed up to fight in France," he told her, his eyes not straying from hers as he spoke.

(Y/N)'s mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to collect her thoughts. She was well aware that she probably looked like a fish out of water, gasping for breath, but she could care less. In a way it did feel like she was gasping for breath.

"Can you say something?" Tommy asked her after a few moments - that felt like decades - had passed, his voice filled with concern.

"I...I can't think of anything to say," she decided to state the obvious, her mind still reeling from his previous statement.

Tommy sighed as he looked to the opposite wall of the room. He didn't know what type of response he was expecting from (Y/N), but getting no sort of specific reaction outright was really messing with him. He loved her more than anyone in the world, and having her be at a loss of words made him want to question if he made the wrong choice in enlisting. It was too late now...their papers had been turned in, and they would be shipping out to France by the end of the week.

"When do you leave?" she broke the silence with a quiet question, her words making his eyes snap over to meet hers again.

"The end of the week," he answered her, watching intently for her response; hoping that she'd say more than a five word sentence.

It was (Y/N)'s turn to look away when his response hit her ears. To say her mind was reeling was an understatement. She couldn't even begin to think of something to say, and it pained her because she knew that Tommy was looking for her to put what was going on in her mind into words. The problem was that she had no words for it...there were no words to explain what she was feeling at the moment.

"You're going alongside John and Arthur?" she asked another question. Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but was unable to get a word out. "I'm sorry for asking all of these questions, Tommy, I just..." she cut into his response before trailing off and letting out a sound of exasperation, becoming slightly frustrated at the fact that she couldn't even think of a place to start with her thoughts.

"It's ok, (Y/N)," he told her, squeezing her hand that she'd just realized he was still holding, "this wasn't an easy decision to make."

"Then why did you make it?" she was quick to ask, the words coming out before she could think them over.

Tommy just about flinched at the pain that was present in her words. "Because we didn't want to have it made for us. They were going to draft us anyway. If we enlist, it's on our terms," he gave an explanation as to why they'd made the decision.

"You may not have gotten drafted this early though...we could have had more time together," (Y/N) pointed out, her voice becoming shakier with each word she said.

"We'll have more time together," he assured her.

"That can't be promised," she reminded him. There was never any certainty when it came to war...the both of them knew that.

"We'll have the rest of this week," he pointed out, trying to look on the bright side of things.

"Yeah," she agreed with him, trying to put a smile on her face. She was able to, but it quickly faltered, and Tommy said nothing but instead sent her a sympathetic look in response. He began to open his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by (Y/N) before he could get a word out. "Why don't I help you pack now? So that you're not overwhelmed with work as the time gets closer," she blurted out an idea, and immediately felt dumb for having suggested it. You're in the middle of a deep conversation...would he really want to get started on packing? Come on, (Y/N)! she yelled at herself, mentally facepalming. What a way to make things go from bad to worse!

Tommy searched her face for a moment, trying to pick up on any possible cues. (Y/N) held her breath as she watched him do this, hoping that he wouldn't want to continue prying into her thoughts on the news he'd given her. He finally nodded his head after a few moments passed. "Yeah, we can do that," he reluctantly added, finally dropping her hands from his hold.

An awkward silence entered the room as they stood from the bed to move over to where his wardrobe was. Nothing much else was said between the two as (Y/N) got the few outfits that Tommy owned out of his wardrobe and folded them so that they'd fit in the compact suitcase. Tommy didn't do much to help. He instead stood back and racked his brain as he watched (Y/N) go through the motions; trying to think of some way to continue the conversation they'd abruptly ended on the bed. Her answers weren't sitting right with him, it was obvious that she was hesitant about it all - who wouldn't be? - but he needed to know if she herself was ok. It was one thing to be upset about the situation, but another completely to be upset in general. He didn't want the latter for her.

But nothing else was said between the two for the entire time they spent in the bedroom. (Y/N) felt the weight lay heavy on her chest as she followed Tommy back downstairs. The living room had cleared out a bit, and sympathetic looks were given from those who stayed as the couple entered the room again. Everyone knew exactly what had happened in the room. Polly decided that she was going to get started on dinner, and (Y/N) agreed to stay around and join the family for the meal. The topic weighing on everyone's mind wasn't discussed for the remainder of the evening as each person tried hard to think of other things to speak about...the elephant in the room didn't go unnoticed though, you could see what each person was thinking about clearly from the look on their face.

This was going to be a long week.

——

Tommy's promise of he and (Y/N) having the rest of the week to spend together didn't quite turn out the way either of them wanted to. Both barely spoke to each other or spent much time together as they practically threw themselves into their work to try to avoid the inevitable.

Tommy was working hard to make sure that Polly had everything she needed in order to continue the family business when the brothers went away.

(Y/N) took up longer hours at the clothing shop she was hired at, knowing that spending too much time with Tommy and the rest of the Shelbys would make her heart hurt in ways that she wasn't ready for. It was hard not to think about what was awaiting them at the end of the week when they were together.

As much as they didn't want it to, the weekend finally came. Polly made the boys join her at church one last time so that she could pray for their safety and well-being. After that, she and Ada prepared one last meal for the family to have together before the brothers were due at the train station. One person's absence was duly noted though...(Y/N) hadn't showed up at the Watery Lane household despite Tommy inviting her over. His worry grew more and more as it got closer to the time he would be leaving, and he wondered if he'd be seeing his love before he got shipped off to hell.

(Y/N) couldn't bring herself to leave her bed. She knew what Tommy was doing today; knew that he wanted her to be there when it was time, but no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't get herself up and moving.

It wasn't until the clock struck four that she finally managed to bring herself to a sitting position. There was only one hour left until Tommy's train would leave the station. She didn't leave the bed though, and instead just stared at the clock on the wall as it ticked away slowly, taking away the minutes that she could be spending with her love. Why hadn't she left the bed yet?! Why couldn't she bring herself to?!

Something awakened inside of her when the clock struck 4:30. She threw the covers to the side and rushed to put some decent clothes on. Caring less if they looked orderly, or even matched, she grabbed a pair of shoes from the corner of her room before quickly working to make sure her hair looked decent. She didn't want to make it that obvious that she'd just rolled out of bed to run to the train station.

Thankfully the station was close to her family's home. She took off running the second her feet hit the pavement, and she didn't stop until the crowds of people saying goodbye to their loved ones came into view. Her chest started to hurt as she got closer to the station, and she wasn't sure if it was because she was getting closer to what she'd essentially been avoiding for the entire week, or if it was because she'd just sprinted over here.

She slowed down once she hit the edge of the crowd, and she began the process of slowly walking through the throngs of people and looking everywhere for the man she wanted to speak to one last time. It was a tedious process, but it proved successful the moment she spotted a dress she couldn't miss anywhere.

It was one that she made for Polly for her birthday a few years back; when she was just getting started with her career as a seamstress' apprentice. It was made of a darker, floral pattern, and as the years passed, (Y/N) told Polly several times that she didn't need to wear the outfit, but the older woman ignored her and continued wearing it.

To (Y/N)'s relief, Ada, Finn, and their three older brothers - who were now dressed in their uniforms - were standing beside Polly. She wasn't too late. "Tommy!" she called out, hoping that he'd hear her over the buzzing of the crowd as her feet quickly took her in his direction.

He did hear her though...he would hear her anywhere, and in a second, he was turning around to look in the direction of her voice. As much as (Y/N) wanted to freeze and marvel at how his hair looked now (he'd only wore it without it being styled a handful of times, no matter how much she pestered him and told him that it made him look even more irresistible) she resisted the urge and continued walking until she was able to hook her arms around his neck and hug him tightly. He responded to her embrace by holding onto her waist, feeling like a heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulders now that he was able to see her before he left.

"Look at your hair, Tom," she whispered once she stepped out of the embrace, her hands going up to run through his locks, "I've told you that you look so good with it like this," she continued, smiling as she tried to keep her tears in and not address what was happening around them.

"I didn't do anything to it because we're going to get it cut when we reach the front," he told her, his response bringing her back to the reality of it all. Her smile faltered a little when she heard it, and her eyes searched over his face so that she could commit it to memory and be able to remember it as she went for days without him. "Hey...what's going on in that head of yours, love?" he asked her, bringing her out of her head and back into the world around them, looking at him properly to see that his eyes were locked onto hers as he waited intently for her answer.

"I..." she paused for a moment. Come on, (Y/N), you can't go back to this now! she yelled at herself as she stood with her mouth parted slightly, watching as the light left his eyes more with each second that passed. Say something! "I...I'm proud of you, Tommy. I'm proud of you and I'm proud of what you're doing," she finally got out, her eyes hooked onto his as she spoke. "And I'm sorry that it took me so many days to come to terms with that...I was just so scared at first of what was going to happen with us and with everything, but I'm so, so proud of you," she added, every word she said coming straight from her heart. The slightest smile formed on Tommy's face as he heard what she had to say.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he said to her before he pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers, kissing her with a passion that almost swept her off of her feet.

"Last call for the five o'clock train! Boarding will end shortly!" the ticket-taker announced as the couple broke away from each other, their chests heaving for air as they came down from the high they were just wrapped up in.

"That's me," Tommy whispered against her lips, his eyes searching hers.

"I love you, soldier," she breathed, smiling at him as she ran her hand down his cheek, feeling the softness of his skin one last time. "Stay safe for me," a somber smile graced her lips as she ended speaking.

"I will, love. I promise," he assured her, pulling her into a final hug before he brought his hands up to cup her cheeks and kiss her one last time.

(Y/N) wanted to hold onto him forever, but she knew she couldn't, and she slid her hands down his forearms before dropping them to her sides as they pulled away. She then took a step back then to fall in beside Polly, who immediately wrapped her arm around the younger woman's shoulders. "I love you," she mouthed to him, watching as he held eye contact for a moment longer before bending to pick up the duffel bags he'd be bringing with him.

He made his way over to the ticket-taker then, having his ticket punched just as the conductor called out 'all aboard' and blew the train's whistle.

(Y/N) watched him as he glanced over his shoulder one last time before ascending the stairs into the traincar and vanishing from sight. She swiped away the tears and held onto Polly tightly as everything was cleared from close by the tracks so that the train could embark on its journey to France. She tried to smile as the engine fired up and began pulling the cars, but it quickly faltered as all of her emotions came crashing down on her.

These next few days, weeks, months, were going to be tough, and she knew that there'd be no getting around that. She was happy, though, that she was able to see Tommy one last time before he left to fight, and that she was able to tell him how she felt...even if she waited until the last possible minute to do so.

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

MASTERLIST

[risherrd]

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Hi there! How are you doing? I just recently found your account and LOVE it! Thank you for sharing all your stories! I particularly loved the head cannons for clingy Roman and comforting Roman!

After reading the comforting Roman one, I had an idea for some more head cannons or a story (truly whichever you prefer if you want to write this idea). But maybe something along the lines of standing up to Logan somehow and defending Roman? Seeing him so hurt and vulnerable because of what his father said broke my heart and I definitely think he needs someone in his corner, privately and publicly!

Thank you so much if you do write something around this idea, but please don’t feel pressured to if it doesn’t spark any ideas. I hope you have a fabulous day/night! 💛

In My Corner

Roman Roy x Reader

Oneshot

this is literally the sweetest request I’ve ever gotten so it went to the top of my priority list. I’m doing okay, thank you so much for asking!! I hope you’re amazing <3 you don’t understand how much it means to me that you enjoy what I write and that you love it!!! it makes me so happy!!! any request or idea you have, I promise, will give me ideas. I’m so grateful I have people like you enjoying and reading my work!! It’s one in the morning for me, so I’m sorry I can’t make it longer… but enjoy! I love you rita, thank you for requesting xx

also just a general psa, if there’s never any specific pronoun/reader gender detail in the request, I’ll default to fem/female unless I can access your profile, to which then I’ll just use the requester’s pronouns/gender. enjoy!

Word Count: 2.181k

Married life was all you could’ve ever dreamed it would be. It was more.

Roman had surprised you with how quickly he’d committed to you and you solely. He’d told you, the night of your wedding, he knew you were it for him from your first official date. That even if you dumped him, hated him, threw him out, he’d be yours. He’d never remarry, he’d never even look at another woman.

You’re the only thing that brings light to his life. You radiate warmth into him. Being around you is being by a fire in the dead of winter up on Mount Everest. In quiet conversations in the middle of the night, the two of you tangled together in bed, he’d admitted he’d kill for you. Lie for you, commit crime for you, it was all the same to him. You are what brings meaning to his life. You’re an absolute in his world of probabilities. His anchor, his rock, the love of his fucking life.

Neither of you ever take off your rings. You’d both made sure to get metals that wouldn’t rust with water and had high durability just so you were never without them. If Roman was a shell of a man before he’d met you, he’s a god now.

Late nights at the office, he has a thing of chocolate for you clutched in his hands as an apology. Untoward women flirting with him despite his very obvious marriage (he endlessly speaks of you to anyone and everyone), his hand is on your hip, his lips on yours. You’re sick? He’s taken the day off to stay with you so you’re not suffering on your own.

On the off chance you both have days off and the energy, you’re out and about. Arcades, carnivals, anything so he can see you laughing and smiling and so fucking glowy. If you’re happy, he’s happy. You’re the most important thing in his life. In between your occasional excursions, he’s Googling how to beat carnival games, he’s practicing Flappy Bird, just so that when you do go out, and your eyes catch on a particularly cute plushie, he can get it for you and watch your face light up and feel the universe grace him with heaven.

If there was anything that came with being married that you didn’t like, it was his family. Maybe not Kendall, nor Shiv. Both were kind to you, and Connor didn’t come round anymore. You couldn’t blame him.

Roman’s your husband. You know him, you know what upsets him. And nine times out of ten, when he’s crying, it’s because of his father.

Usually so bubbly and relaxed, when he was upset, he was upset. He was unable to function. He ran to you like a moth drawn to light. He’d gone so long not knowing how to cope; you were only just now helping him learn how.

“Roman, where’s that cream sweater of yours?” you call out to him. He was washing his face in the bathroom, the two of you getting ready for dinner with his family. Waystar shenanigans, as he’d put it. But you knew that truthfully, it was deeper than that. More terse.

“Hell if I know,” he calls back.

“Then what’re you going to wear?”

“No clue.”

You tsk, instead crossing over to your side of the closet to pick out an outfit. “Just no weird color combinations, for fuck’s sake.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he says, not bothered, strolling into the closet. He pinches the small of your back as he slides past you, going to look through his clothing. “What color are you wearing?”

“It’s going to be really cold, so I was thinking cable knit. Or should I just wear a turtleneck and slap a jacket over it?” You hold both options up, turning to face him. This was routine for you both. Strangely enough, he loved matching with you, and you both regularly help each other dress.

“You’re already shivering. Wear the sweater.” He comes to you, plants a kiss on your lips, then turns back and tugs his shirt off over his head. He manages to find another sweater, slipping it on. It’s the same color as yours, and even though he’s done this countless times before, your heart warms. Once you’re both ready, you’re in the car that was sent for you. You grip the bridge of your nose with your fingers, taking a deep breath as the car gently jostles you as you’re driven. Roman scoots over in the back seat, where you both are, so that your sides are pressed together. His hand slides over your thigh, rubbing gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say truthfully, dropping your hand and looking over at him. You smile, meeting his eyes. You adore him. It’s evident in your gaze, and it’s mirrored in his. “Just bracing myself.”

He leans over, kissing your cheek.

Roman grips your hand tightly as you go up in the elevator.

You stick a fake smile on your face and step out into the light to greet Marcia. She air kisses both your cheeks, then Roman’s, greeting you both. You both make your rounds, hugging, kissing cheeks. You pretend to steal Iverson’s nose, to his delight, and he runs to his father, tattling on you with a massive grin on his face. Kendall just smiles at the both of you, the exhaustion slightly lifting from his features.

You go say hello to Greg, who’s happy to see you. Out of all the Roys, save for your husband, Greg’s the one you got on with the most. You were both in the same situation. You were both considered outsiders, yet still apart of the inner circle, still concerned with all the plotting and scheming and drama.

He gives you a hug, and you duly note that Roman’s being taken aside by his dad. You turn your attention back to Greg, making sure to keep an ear strained for anything that might go wrong. You chat idly for a bit, and you get the sense that everyone in the room is doing the same thing you are. You can feel the tension slowly spreading. Something’s wrong. And if it’s not, it will be very soon.

It doesn’t take very long.

Logan’s voice is booming through the townhouse, and everyone gathered quickly silences.

“What do you fucking want me to do, then, Roman? Roll over and let you fuck me?”

You and Greg wince in unison. “Are they still arguing over whether they should sell?” he asks you quietly. Frown starting on your face, you nod.

Waystar wasn’t the only company the Roys had control over. There were conglomerates on conglomerates of other companies, the most problematic of the bunch causing massive monetary issues- among others. It was an ethical disaster, and the lawsuits were beginning to pile up on top of each other.

While the general consensus was that the company should be sold, and quickly, Logan was stuck in his ways and took it as personal offence. Specifically with Roman. You couldn’t even begin to make up some lame reason as to why. They’d gotten into countless arguments over it, Roman doing his best to convince his father that if this one company went down, it was going to take a lot down with it.

You give Kendall a look, and he pushes himself up from his seat on the sofa and follows the direction of their voices. Shiv follows shortly after.

At dinner, everyone is white knuckling their silverware. Under the table, you let your leg press up against Roman’s. His entire body’s taut, and he’s staring down into his plate. You eat silently, the chatter around you awkward. You and Shiv murmur to each other about a new restaurant opening up down the street, making unofficial plans to go together when you could.

Of course, the moment you’re feeling at ease again, Logan decides to ruin it.

“Roman, you want to tell the table how willing you are to stab your own father in the back? We can’t just not talk about it.” He chews before speaking again, voice ringing. “Don’t you think your wife ought to keep her eyes open?”

You bite down a retort, Roman bristling. “Come on, Dad. Don’t bring her into this.”

You’re silently hoping that Shiv, Kendall, anyone steps in. Points out how wrong this is. How hypocritical, just how fucking ridiculous it all is.

“You know what, Romulus? I’ve let you do as you please for far too long.” You look up from your plate, on the brink of shock. You just can’t fathom the idiocy. “It’s time the world knew that you’re a cheat, you’re a liar, and you’re fucking rotten to the core. It’s time you stopped showing your face around here, like your brother.”

Your husband opens his mouth, then closes it, flabbergasted. You can see the tears rushing to his tear ducts, you can practically feel the tightening in his chest.

That’s it. You can’t. You can’t fucking handle this anymore. You get up abruptly, your chair making a garish, grating noise against the marble floor. “He’s right. We shouldn’t come here anymore,” you say, voice steady and clear. Your voice is raised, your tone firm. “It’s time we left, Roman."

Logan drops his utensils, the silver clattering against the table. “What’s the hurry? At least finish up with dinner.”

The heat immediately rushes to your face, and you can’t suppress the anger anymore. “Are you fucking senile?” you yell, Roman quietly getting up to stand beside you. “Enough is enough. Stupid fucking Pyros and it’s stupid fucking issues! You run it like a prison, your profit is nonexistent, and it’s being sued by every law firm under the sun. There’s a right decision you can make, but your head is too far up your ass for you to even see it. Go ahead, let shit hit the fan! Let the entire fucking family fortune get snatched away from you because of one measly company! And by all means, bully Roman over it, despite the fucking fact that every single person in this room agrees with what we’re saying.” You’re the one bristling now, the words spilling out of your mouth. “We’re not coming back. I’m going to the press first thing in the morning. You’ve been doing too much for too long. You’re nothing more than a piece of shit, Logan. You wouldn’t know a good son if he fucking punched you. Fuck off. You don’t deserve someone like Roman.”

Roman’s out the door before you are. Face still flushed and adrenaline still pumping through your veins, Roman helps you into your coat, you grab your purse, and you’re out in the chilly New York air, waving your arm for a taxi.

The ride home is silent, his head leaning on your shoulder.

Back at home, you kick off your shoes at the door, your stomach still in knots. “I’m sorry,” you manage, watching him shuck his jacket off and toss it into the coat closet. “I should’ve… I should’ve kept my temper in control.”

“Sorry? Sorry for what?” He comes over to you, his hands going to cup your hips and pull you close to him. “You’re the only one that’s been in my corner. Ever. My entire fucking life. You deserve a fucking medal.”

You kiss him gently, quickly. “It just made me angry.”

“I’m going to quit,” he tells you lowly, hand coming up to your jaw. He strokes your bottom lip as he gazes at you. “I’m going to quit and we’re going to run off to whatever place is the farthest from here.”

You steal another kiss from him before responding. “Let me ruin his fucking life first, okay? Pretty please?”

He laughs, pulling you into a hug. “Oh, only since you asked so nicely.”

You’re both giggling as you collapse on the couch together, the dinner already forgotten. That’s how you know he was meant for you. Nothing mattered but him. The world could be burning around you, and Roman Roy could be smiling, and everything’d be fine because he was happy. That meant all was right in the world.

You cuddle up to him, his arm coming to drape over your shoulders. You hook your arms around his waist, tucking your face into his chest.

“You know,” he begins, “with corners and stuff, that’d make you a boxer. Or a wrestler.”

“Wasn’t that your analogy?” you ask, laughing lightly.

“Well, yeah. Doesn’t stop you from being a fuckin’ champion.” His voice wavers, the way it does when he’s on the brink of sleep.

“Fucking cheese ball. Go to bed.”

You both share a long, loud, laugh. It’s far too late at night for this. Apparently, his father was fucking nocturnal and only had meals past ten.

“You know you love it. You love me,” he murmurs groggily, barely still clinging on to consciousness.

“Yeah. I do.”

[mvrtaiswriting]

Hi there! May I please request some headcanons of Zoro and what he looks for in a s/o, as well as any fluffy romantic headcanons of him with his s/o, please? Thank you so much for your time! Take it easy.

Love potion - how to win Zoro's heart.

Hi! Thank you so much for trusting me with your request! I enjoyed writing this, Zoro has a special place in my heart. I hope this meets your expectations, my writing is a bit rusty at the moment due to all the uni work i'm doing and this is just what i needed to get back on track! I hope it makes you smile :) x

warnings: none! super fluff. gn! reader.

feel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee.

Curiosity starts tickling his brain when he notices his usual intimidating demeanour doesn't work on you; if anything, you find it funny. He notices how you laugh when you catch him and Sanji bickering, even if he is threatening to slice the poor love cook into julienne strips. And he likes it more than he would ever admit.

The key to Zoro's feelings lie within his struggles. The main way to gain Zoro's respect is by being a fighter - and sometimes, this just means beating him at his own game, defeating his small god complex. This can often involve sarcastic remarks in response to his venomous teasing, showing him you can fight well enough to knock him down during a training session. Zoro always recognises the abilities of his opponents - so once you tame his ego and demonstrate that you are just as formidable as he is, he will gladly welcome you into his heart (secretly).

Zoro falls in love when he realises you aren't too different from him. There is a sense of familiarity to you that mesmerises Zoro every time. He wasn't sure why - he didn't know if it was his influence or just some innate traits you had. A calming sensation washes all over him whenever he notices that your movements effortlessly mirror his. It makes him feel understood.

Everyone can tell that the swordsman is in love when he enjoys your company during moments he usually prefers to spend alone. He shares his silence with you, a solemn confession of what he truly feels. You're the only one who he allows close to him.

Once in an established relationship, it takes a while for Zoro to fully adjust to it. At first, he feels like nothing has changed, really - he feels just as jealous, just as protective. The butterflies haven't left his stomach since the first time he saw you smile - they're still flying around, batting their wings together and making him visibly blush.

Zoro is not really fond of PDA - that doesn't mean he isn't affectionate, he just prefers to keep it private, discrete. When you're walking around, exploring a new island, he doesn't mind holding your hand - although, most of the time, he only intertwines his pinky with yours, nothing more. However, he likes it when you sit on his lap; so much, it's something you can't escape. As soon as you reach the dining table, his hands are quick to wrap around your waist, slowly guiding your body and eventually making you fall onto his lap. It makes food much more enjoyable this way - even sake tastes better, according to him.

Zoro is a great listener, and he has a peculiar attention to detail. He remembers everything you told him, from the silliest childhood story to the most meaningful thought you shared with him - he treasures your memories so dearly, he almost carves them into his mind. Because of that, he showers you with gifts on a regular basis. Whether it's a piece of clothing or a diamond, if you made a comment about it, he will get it for you and casually leave it on your bedside table, nicely wrapped. He doesn't make a big deal out of it, he just loves the look on your face when he manages to surprise you. There's nothing Zoro wouldn't do to make you happy.

[vilevenom]

I'm still plugging away at the long!fic I've been working on for two damn weeks now, but I decided to take a little break to write something short for a character pairing/dynamic I haven't seen much of.

Also, a little bit of practice for dialogue heavy fics.

Good Luck Babe

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog (no specific media)

Pairing: Gen, Shadow & Amy Rose, (unrequited) Amy/Sonic, (unrequited) Sonic/Shadow

Summary: Sonic likes to be as free as the wind. As such, it's quite difficult to catch his eye.

Amy notices Shadow staring and decides to have a little heart to heart with him

"Oh. I know that look."

Shadow startled, not having expected Amy, of all people, to suddenly appear at his side. Team Dark had run into Team Sonic on their way to a mission, which just so happened to coincide with an Eggman attack that Sonic and his friends were battling. The overall fight hadn't lasted terribly long, but it had still been a hard won battle, given how many Heavies were mixed in with the standard badnik fair. Thus, Sonic and his little band of followers were celebrating and chatting it up with Rouge and Omega, while Shadow watched from the sidelines, mildly irritated by the delay in their own mission for GUN.

"What look?"

Amy chuckled at Shadow, clasping her hands behind her back as she rocked on her heels. She turned slightly to watch Sonic as he laughed with Tails over a joke that neither Knuckles or Omega got while Rouge simply rolled her eyes at them. "The look of someone in love."

Shadow scoffed, his posture stiffening as his shoulders lifted defensively. "What are you babbling about, Rose?"

She shot him a look, a sad little smile on her face. "Oh, please," she sighed, letting her hands drop to her sides, "You've been staring at Sonic since the fight ended. Maybe since before that."

"That's because he's being a distraction and keeping my team from their objective," Shadow protested, folding his arms over his chest.

"Mhmmm. Then why don't you just go tell Omega and Rouge to wrap it up so you can go on your way?"

"I-" Shadow began, floundering slightly for an excuse. He could feel his cheeks heating up the longer his brain churned trying to come up with an answer, while Amy simply watched him with a knowing smirk on her face.

"That's what I thought," she finally said, letting Shadow off the hook, turning to look back to their friends. "It's okay, you know," she added after a beat, lacing her fingers together in front of her, "That you love him."

"I never admitted to that!" the hybrid snapped, ears pinning back as his increased volume drew the attention of Rouge. He waved her off quickly, turning to Amy with a scowl. "What are you getting at, Rose?"

Amy quickly lifted her hands in a placating gesture, waving Shadow off as his quills visibly bristled. "Just that, y'know, I'm not upset that you love him, too. He makes it really easy. I've been noticing, lately, a lot of people sort of falling in love with him. Not properly, not really, since it's more like hero worship? But, since I came to terms with the fact that he'll never love me back, it's been hard not to notice it in other people."

Forcing his quills to soften, Shadow let out a huff of air, flicking his gaze briefly to their friends to ensure they were still engaged in conversation, before turning back to Amy. "And, pray tell, what type of love do you think I have for him? I'm curious as to your perspective."

"Proper love," the pink hedgehog supplied with a little shrug, "The kind that starts as a tiny spark and grows through shared experience, victory and trauma. The kind that solidifies when you see the worst of someone, and still know you'd stay by their side as long as they'll have you. The kind that truly blossoms when that person shows you sides of themselves that almost no one else gets to see, in private little moments. The same kind of love that I have for him."

"You…how can you possibly know that?" The hybrid was flabbergasted by Amy's observation, not having realized that he was quite so obvious with his affection for the blue blur. He knew he had a tendency to stare, but surely his emotions weren't that easy to read?

"Like I said, it's the same way that I feel," she sighed, picking idly at one of her gloves, "So I find it pretty easy to spot in others. But, don't worry. I don't think any one else has picked up on it."

"That's reassuring," Shadow muttered, absently running his fingers through his quills to straighten them out. With anyone else he would begin threatening them with death, should they ever spill his secrets, but for some reason he'd always been a bit of a soft touch for Amy. Instead, he simply cleared his throat, hoping the flush in his cheeks wasn't noticible through his fur. "What about him? Does he…have feelings for anyone?" he asked tentatively, voice quiet and low.

"Oh, I wish," Amy chuckled, though it was sad, a wistful expression overtaking her face as she stared off past their friends, "I've been following Sonic for as long as he's let me, and loved him nearly as long. For a long time I thought simple persistence was the key, then I tried heroics to try and impress him. Gifts, food, compliments…Nothing catches his interest. He's rescued some of the prettiest Mobians on the planet from certain doom, many of whom have practically thrown themselves at his feet, and absolutely no one and nothing has kept his interest for longer than a fleeting moment. I'm surprised I haven't seen a spark of interest in you, if I'm being honest."

"Me?"

"Yeah," Amy hummed, nodding slightly, "You're the first person to keep up with him. When everything I tried failed, and I saw how you two ran side by side, I thought maybe that was it. Maybe he needed someone who could go toe to toe with him and keep up. Challenge him in a way no one else ever really has. Not without being a threat-"

"I'm a threat!"

"You know what I mean," Amy snorted, shooting Shadow a glare, the hybrid immediately deflating, "But even you, with your strength, speed, flashy quills and pretty eyes weren't enough to keep him looking your way for more than a few seconds."

"Are you telling me to give up?" Shadow asked, narrowing his eyes slightly, suspicion plain on his face.

"If you're asking if I'm telling you to back off or keep your distance or something, I already told you that it was fine," Amy said, rolling her eyes, "I know nothing I say or do will make him love me. I've come to terms with that. At this point, I'm just happy if he's happy, honestly. And, hey, who knows? Maybe you'll do something spectacular that I could never manage and make him see you."

"Knowing Sonic's short attention span, that seems like a tall order."

"Doesn't it?" Amy laughed, her momentary dour demeanor shifting back to her usual chipper attitude. "Stranger things have happened!"

"Hmph. Indeed they have," Shadow snorted, offering Amy one of his rare smiles.

"But, you know," she added quietly, taking a step forward and turning so her back was to their friends, "if he never does…if the call of freedom keeps him running with the wind forever…I'll be there. We can watch a bad romcom while eating ice cream and complain about how dumb he is. Yeah?"

Shadow blinked in mild surprise at the offer, before letting out a low chuckle and nodding slightly. "I think that sounds quite agreeable."

"Is that a laugh from Shadow, I hear?" Sonic's voice shattered Amy and Shadow's moment of camaraderie, the hero zipping up next to them with his trademark grin on his face to be met with a scoff from Shadow and a light giggle from Amy. "Hark! A miracle doth occur," Sonic called, slinging an arm around Shadow's shoulders, earning a grunt of displeasure from the hybrid as he was hauled into Sonic's side.

Shadow cast a brief glance to Amy, who simply gave him a reassuring little smile and a thumbs up. Perhaps having her to commiserate with over the blue buffoon would be nice.

[zablife]

Lee you know how I’m always weak for some soft Tommy 🫠

"Just call me whenever you like." - from @ creativepromptsforwriting

A rare Tommy Shelby smile, I imagine like reader accidentally calls Tommy something cute or ridiculous as nickname, but you can write whatever you think is best 🥰

Tysm for the prompt, Mar! I did write something previously which I can't seem to find atm where the reader calls Tommy "jackrabbit" in front of his brothers 🤭 If I find it, I'll link it. As for this blurb, I went off script, but it's still fluffy. I decided to make Tommy work a bit for love. I hope you enjoy it!

Call Me--Tommy x reader

Tommy can't imagine why you haven't used the private number he gave you. He instructed you to call him whenever you like, but you weren't about to give in so easily. 

The hour grew late as you concluded your business meeting with the Birmingham gangster everyone warned was someone to be feared. You were never one to be easily intimidated though and accepted his invitation to prove you were serious about your proposal to buy his gin.

Taking your seat opposite the man with the bluest eyes you’d ever seen, you found yourself a bit distracted by his handsome features and charming smile.

Throughout your conversation, Tommy responded favorably to your confidence and unique brand of humor. By the time you’d signed the necessary paperwork, you were sharing a glass of whisky together in celebration. 

As you gathered your coat and purse, Tommy pulled a business card from his pocket and jotted a note on the back.

“What’s this?” you asked glancing down at the card Tommy passed between outstretched fingertips.

“My direct line at the Midland. Call whenever you like,” Tommy said, holding your gaze as his hand brushed over yours suggestively.

His devilish smirk made you scoff. Did this work with other women, you wondered? Tucking the note in your purse, you nodded your head politely, “Good evening, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy sat back in his chair, watching your hips sway enticingly as you disappeared behind the frosted glass doors of his office. This would be the most enjoyable business partnership he’d entered into in some time.

Two months later…

As soon as he spotted you across the room, Tommy’s heart began beating wildly. He had to know why you hadn’t called. It was unusual for his advances to go without any acknowledgment whatsoever. 

“Miss Y/l/n, so kind of you to make an appearance,” Tommy said with an air of cool detachment. 

“I accepted your invitation weeks ago. Didn’t your secretary inform you, Mr. Shelby?” you asked with a tilt of your head.

“Please call me Tommy and you could have phoned me directly, you know,” he said, staring into your eyes intently. “I would have liked to take you to dinner sometime,” Tommy added, eager to hear your response. 

“I see. Well, that would have been lovely. In fact, I was in town recently,” you said, watching Tommy shift uncomfortably in front of you. He wasn’t sure what you were getting at. Had he offended you in some way?

You looked down into your drink as you smiled to yourself. Tommy Shelby was feeling rejected. Although you could dissuade him of the notion, you decided to tease him a bit, knowing his ego could take it. 

“Alright, Tommy,” you said trying how it felt on your tongue. “I’ll be frank.”

“Please do,” he prodded, leaning forward in anticipation.

“Your brother has boasted that you once secured the private correspondence of the king himself so I find it hard to believe you couldn’t get hold of my telephone number if you wanted to see me so much.” You raised an eyebrow at him and he nodded thoughtfully.

“I haven’t acted the gentleman. Is that it?” he asked.

“I would prefer a bit more effort,” you said, strolling away with your empty glass and leaving Tommy in a state of shock.

That evening you kicked off your heels and collapsed on your bed, exhausted from the evening of socialization. Just as you closed your eyes, the telephone began to ring in shrill tones from the bedside table. You reached across the duvet, fumbling for the receiver and cradled it against your shoulder. As you rubbed your aching feet, a familiar voice could be heard rumbling into your ear. “You didn’t tell me that finding you would be harder than blackmailing a king.”

A smile spread across your face as you retorted, “That’s alright, I’m worth it.”

“Yes, I believe you are, love,” Tommy chuckled. “Now about that dinner.”