#i see your swinging man in italy

[meilas]

Il Muto and a Swinging Phantom

x

[cherry-leclerc]

red diamond ☆ cs55

genre: humor, fluff, arthistory!reader

word count: 2.8k

The story of when you and Carlos met and how the mutual connection of art takes you two on a pleasing journey that will leave you realizing a thing or two.

req!... i did a bit of touch ups from the request i got but i hope that anon doesn't mind AHH. hope you guys like it :)

“No, no, no! Ritorno! Per favore!” 

Gasping for air, you curl over as you groan in frustration. Punching your bag, you watch lamely as the cab drives away. It was your own fault - you had overslept - but you seriously thought you would make it on time. You moved to Italy a few months ago to study Art History in one of the most prestigious universities. But along with that, there were lots of things being asked from you; volunteering in museums, endless essays, and ridiculous research that even had you second guessing your choices. 

“Stai bene?” 

Spinning around, you make eye contact with a tall man who secretly made your blood run cold. You shiver as you nod, hoping it would be enough and that he would just leave you alone. But he doesn’t budge, he only digs a single hand into his pocket. Your stomach drops.

“Am I about to get mugged?”

“What?” 

Chewing on your bottom lip, you point out his all black outfit and how creepily he kept his hand hidden from plain sight. Bright pink colors his cheeks as he instantly raises his arms up in defense. God no! Oh sh- I’m sorry, he squeaks as he winces. You let out a breath of relief as you rub your arms to help keep warm. 

“Do I look like a thief or something?”

Scanning the empty road, you squint as you try your best to find another ride. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea you’ve had to go to the Sistine Chapel at night. “Or something.” He softly laughs. Shimming out of his sweater, he shyly hands it over. “That’s very nice of you, but it’s okay. You’ll get cold.”

“I won’t. Plus, you’re shivering so much that I can hear your teeth chattering. Seriously, take it.” Instead of telling him no, you decide against it since you were two seconds away from getting frostbite. Grazie, you whisper as you tug the sweater over your head. He looks away as soon as your arms swing up and allows him to get a good glimpse of your white lingerie. “What are you doing out alone so late at night?”

Warming your hands deep inside the hoodies pockets, you respond, “I was trying to get a lift to the museum. I have to take some notes for a lecture I have tomorrow morning. I was supposed to go a whole lot earlier, but my nap was longer than I had intended.” He glances at you for a moment before jingling his keys up. You raise a brow.

“Can’t reassure you that the museum will still be open at a time like this, but I could offer you a ride back home.”

Agreeing turned out to be the best thing you could have ever done. Turns out Carlos drove for a living - whatever that means; he had been suspiciously blunt with it - but long before, he had actually studied Art History himself back in Spain. Ever so kindly, he had helped you research about The Creation of Adam. You were extremely impressed when he kept naming facts from the top of his head.

Shutting your notebook, you sheepishly shake your head. “You just saved me from embarrassment in front of my professor. She could be a bit mean when we don’t get our stuff done. Typical Italians.”

“Not all Italians are like that.”

“Sure.” Pause. “But she is.” He nods as he points towards your main entrance. Clapping your hands, you leap up from your couch. “Thanks again for all the help. I really appreciate it. I also appreciate that you didn’t turn out to be some murderer.” He squints his eyes teasingly.

“Thief or murderer, which one is it?” 

“Preferably neither.” You open the door slowly as he steps out. “See you around, Carlos.”

“Of course.”

-

A few weeks later, you’re in a complete hurry. You had overslept, again, and it was looking as if you weren’t going to make it to class on time. You mumble a line of curses at the clear image of Professor Clara lecturing you for the thousandth time. It didn’t help either the way your key got jammed at your quick attempt to lock the door. 

“For fucks sake-”

“Need help?”

“Merda!” You drop your coffee as you spin around with a hand over your stomach from the sudden shock. The familiar brunette cringes as he bends down to pick up your thermo. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He carefully takes your bag from your arm. “I just thought-”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off as you share a tight lipped smile. “It’s nice to see you, but I don’t have time for this. I’m late as it is.”

“Typical Italians.”

Your mouth drops open as you snatch your things back from him. “For your information, I am not Italian. Also, what are you doing here?” He beams.

“I have a favor to ask.”

Straightening your posture, you chirp as you take him by the hand towards his car. “Me too. Can I have a ride?”

You knew he’d agree. What you didn’t know was how excited he was to be near your presence. From the moment he first saw you he felt a sort of attraction that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Yes, you were breathtakingly beautiful but there was something about your aura. Everything about you made him crave more. He felt so stupid that it took him this long to see you again.

“Sooo. What do you need?”

“Right.” Turning on his blinker, he quickly glances at the GPS. “Are you free later?”

“Way to make a girl feel special.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “It’s just that there’s this painting…” When he notices your lost expression, he taps his finger desperately against the wheel. “Doni Tondo. Ever heard of it?” The mention has you buzzing as you nod excitedly. “Of course you do. Anyways, they’re holding an auction up for it. I need you.” 

“You do know I’m a broke college student who lives off of pizza and pasta, right? If you’re looking for money then I’m just going to let you down-”

“Money’s not the issue.” Flashy, you hiss as he smiles. “I have the money, but I need you. I need a date.” Why? He makes a left turn. “Do you know the meaning behind the painting?” You shake your head. “It depicts the importance of family. A healthy marriage.”

“I’m not following…”

The Spaniard becomes distressed as he sees you’re getting closer to your destination. He presses down on the brake a bit. “They want couples. Wealthy couples. Someone who they know that if they buy this piece of art then it’s going to be in good hands. That it’s going to continue serving its purpose.” He turns to you as he cocks his head a bit. “I need it as a birthday present for my mother. She’s been wanting it for ages and…Please.”

Putting the car in park right in front of the university entrance, he hopes to find an answer in your face as you keep it blank. Instead, you gather your things as you step out of his car. A delicate hand waves for him to roll the shiny window down.

“Pick me up at 8.”

-

“This is coconuts! I’ve never been inside of the Uffizi Gallery,” you whisper-shout as you cling onto his arm. He smiles down at you as he leads you to the small group of potential buyers. There were six in total - making it more intimate and scary. You were scared. His warm hand makes its way to cradle your face as he leans down to kiss your temple. You physically melt.

“It only costs a couple of euros.”

“You’re killing the vibe,” you groan as you pinch his cheek. He shrugs as he hushes you. Enzo, the coordinator, does a quick introduction with a cheerful voice. Everyone else seems to be listening just to listen, but you and Carlos were picking up on all of it like a sponge. “He’s a genius.” You stare in awe. The brunette stifles a laugh. He’s not the one who created these paintings, you know that, right? You throw a deadpanned glare. “You’re killing it,” you remind him. He pokes his tongue out.

“Why don’t we get started, shall we?” 

The rich are animals - you come up with that conclusion quick enough. The sum that flies past their lips has you gawking as you hide behind the Spaniards tall figure. €50,000, a man yells with a blonde clinging onto his arm with a wide grin. You choke. 

“Anyone willing to go for more than €50,000?”

“€100,000.”

Spinning your head to face Carlos, you have to stop yourself from calling it off. It wasn’t like it was your money anyways. Mrs. BotchedUpBoobsButThinksItsNormal grows red as she whispers to the bald man. He nods. €150,000! 

“€240,000.”

“What?” Distangling your arm from his, you freeze as you feel your fake ring fly off your ring finger. Carlos had slipped in on you - he wore a matching one - as a way to make you both look more of a real couple. A nervous laugh bubbles out of you as you clumsily run over to where it lies. “My apologies!” Enzo bends down before handing it to you. Mio Dio! What a diamond! Red and rare!

Walking over to you both, Carlos takes it from him as he slips it back onto your hand. “Good eye.” But Enzo is basically drooling as he takes your hand to analyze it. 

“I’ve never seen one so up close and personal! Very exquisite! You must feel extremely lucky, tesoro!” 

“Very,” you cheer as you pull your hand away. “How about we get back to it? Excuse my interruption-”

“So, where did he propose?”

“Sistine Chapel.”

Your cheeks burn up from his words. That was where you were trying to get to the first night you two met. To take notes of Michelangelo’s, The Creation of Adam. Much like now, you two were on a mission to retreat Michelangelo's, Doni Tondo. Enzo swoons as he shakes the Spaniards hand.

“Stravagante! What a love story! I could tell - feel - the chemistry between you two. It’s real.”

“Oh, we’re not-”

“Not used to getting such high compliments from someone like you!” Carlos cuts you off as he tugs you closer, large hand laying over your hip. You shiver. He points to the painting. “What do you say?”

“Sold to Mr. and Mrs. Sainz!”

-

A whole crew follows in black SUV’s as they carry the painting to Carlos’s home, after Enzo had insisted it should be done that same day. Extending your hand out, you admire the ring. “You said it was fake.”

“Did I? I must have forgotten.”

Turning your body to face him, you place a hand on his upper thigh. His body stiffens as he clenches his jaw and squeezes his hands tight against the steering wheel. You let out a cough as you shyly pull away. 

“You should have told me. I would have been more careful. Especially since it belongs to your mother.”

“Except it doesn’t anymore.”

Your brows pull in together as your bottom lip starts to wobble. “Did she die?” Taking in your glossy eyes, he shakes his head as he laughs. 

“She’s fine.” He doesn’t say much after that as he pulls into a fancy driveway. Jesus, you squeal. He unclicks your seat belt. “My parents are over for the holidays. They’re taking the painting with them when they leave back to Spain. Come meet them.”

You must be in some sort of trance because you let him take you by your hand as he leads you towards the mansion. You wonder why, but when you remember there’s people still around with the painting, you wrap your fingers tighter against his.

“Perfect. Grazie.” The 29 year old admires as he takes a step back to take in the painting. It was gorgeous. You were starting to get jealous that it belonged to someone else. The group of men share a quick exchange of goodbyes before scurrying out the door. Walking back to you, he taps his shoe against your heel. “What do you think?” You scrunch your nose.

“Meh.”

He spins to face you. “You’re crazy. It’s beautiful.” He looks at you as you stare up at the wall where Doni Tondo hangs. He shudders. Tickling your waist he says, “Admit it. Say you love it.” You shake your head as you giggle. I’ve seen better. He gapes. “Liar!”

“I’m not lying.”

He books it to you as you squeal and try to not trip over your dress as you run away. Grabbing you by the waist, he spins you. Admit it! “No,” you wheeze as you grow dizzy and yet don’t want the moment to end. You pull on his bow that matches with the rest of his expensive tux. “I’m going to throw up if you don’t let go!”

“¿Estamos interrumpiendo?” 

Pushing Carlos off harshly, the ring flies off your finger for the second time that night. You swallow a curse as you look up to an older couple. They smile fondly. Though you haven't met them before, you are able to quickly identify them as the Spaniards parents. Blood rushes to your face. 

“It’s so nice to meet you.” You take a step towards them as you extend your hand. They both shake it as they bring you in for a hug. You let out a small umph. Once they pull away, you pick up the ring from the floor. “I am so sorry about dropping your ring! I know it belongs to you. Carlos told me it was fake and if I had known, then I wouldn’t have flung my hand-”

“Don’t you worry, cariño - it doesn’t belong to me anymore.” Told you, Carlos interrupts. You scowl at him before handing it back to Reyes. She shakes her head as she covers your hands with hers. “Keep it.”

“But that wouldn’t be the right thing to do.” You twirl around as you hand it to Carlos. “Somebody take it, please.” He stares back blankly and you could tell he’s about to say the same thing, but his mother’s words make him take it from you. It’s okay, Carlos. Hesitantly, he obeys. You let out a breath of relief. 

Forcing himself to shake off the bitter feeling, he points up at the painting. “Lo hice. ¿Les gusta?” Reyes and Carlos Sr. nod as they hug each other. Nos encanta. She directs her attention back to you.

“What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.” 

And it was. It was the true depiction of a family. Carlos frowns. “You said it was okay.” Discreetly, you pinch his hip. He yelps. 

“I was only joking, you should know that.” A beat. “I think it's one of the prettiest paintings I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I’m so jealous that you two get to keep it,” you joke as they laugh. Carlos Sr. wags his finger.

“It’s not ours.” What? You and Carlos slump as you look at each other with as much confusion as shock. The older couple laughs. “It was never going to be ours, but we needed a good enough reason for Carlos to pull the trigger. He’s been talking about this painting for as long as we can remember. Isn’t that right?” Reyes nods.

“I knew that if I said I wanted it then he would get it. Either way, if he didn’t buy it then we would have bought it for him.” She walks up closer to you both. “This painting is not just a pretty sight - it’s also the raw interpretation of love. When two people fall in love, things become so crystal clear that it almost has you wondering if you’ve lost your mind. You start to learn that a family is one of the most important things and what better way than to form that with your other half. Marriage is a sacred thing - and sure, it's scary - but it’s very well worth it. You’ll see.”

Her words make your stomach twist as you catch Carlos’ reaction through your peripheral vision. It sort of looked as if he was having some sort of epiphany as he nodded attentively at his parents. For some odd reason, the image of him starting a family of his own with some random woman makes your head hurt. 

“ A few adjustments may be needed, but I have a feeling this ring will find its way to the right girl. Don’t you think, Carlitos?”

Carlos’ eyes flicker to yours as you look back at him. The connection had always been there, but something felt different. Scarily secure. Neither of you were brave enough to ask if this was something you were both feeling. Not yet, at least.

“I think it will.”

[joekeeryswife]

joe keery has such strong dad energy, especially in recent photos from italy. can you write about joe traveling in italy with you and your baby daughter? i just know he’d be the type to wear his kid around and splash in the water with her, and fall asleep in the sun with her on his chest, and feed her little bites of pasta. with you, he’d make sure that your vacation was relaxing and that you felt treated like a goddess. insecure about wearing a bikini? joe can’t stop blushing when he looks at you in it even if you’ve been married for years. while the baby is napping, he massages your feet and cuddles with you. in turn, you set up reservations at his favorite restaurants and plan manageable but gorgeous walks around the city. idk man just dad!joe on vacation

Italy - j.k

a/n: hello angels. how have you all been? i’m so sorry i’ve been MIA lately but i’m back and better than ever! this request is adorable! let’s get into the imagine. it’s not proof read so please bare with me if this is shit lmfao, im still trying to get back into the swing of writing, i also can never seem to figure out how to end my imagines so if anyone has any tips please LMK!! for the ending the outfits are in the little collage🫧

taglist🫧

@johnricharddeacy @theshireisonfire @ssababe @phantomxoxo @livsters @hellfire1986baby @ladyapplejackdnd @alexxavicry @m-rae23 @sheisjoeschateau @kaverichauhan @missabsey @chxrrysprxut @thefrontofmymind @nightmonkeyparker @carinacassiopeiae @cherrymedicine13 @waratah-moon @minsugafour @k-k0129 @limelight23 @alwaysteveswife @krazykatkay456 @lma1986 (it’s been a while so lmk if you want to be removed 🫧)

“baby come on we wanna get to the pool, what’s taking you so long-” Joe barged into the bathroom without knocking making you jump out of your skin. after having your daughter Florence a year and a half ago you had been insecure about your new body.

you were curvier then before, had a few stretch marks scattered all over your body which had faded but in your eyes they were so visible. you just didn’t feel like yourself and with this being your first holiday since having her, you were nervous.

nervous that you didn’t look as good as you did before, nervous that you were gonna get papped and people online would say awful things about you, nervous people were gonna stare.

but to Joe, the sweetest man ever thought you’d never looked better. you had carried a whole human for 9 months and you looked incredible. “Joe, you scared me” you placed a hand on your chest and turned to look at him.

Joe looked at you, eyes darting across your body, seeing you in a bikini for the first time in over a year made him feel tingly. his face heated up “you look beautiful baby, jesus christ you’re gorgeous” he saw your eyes light up slightly.

Florence was in her playpen which you had brought along to keep her occupied, Joe had made sure she was safe before coming to look for you. even after five years of being together and three years of marriage, just looking at you made Joe feel giddy. he was so lucky to have you in his life.

you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and he couldn’t ever get over your beauty. Joe knew what you were doing in the bathroom, he had caught you one too many times and he hated that you felt insecure.

he walked toward you and pulled you into him “my pretty girl” he kissed your head as he hugged you closer. “you’ve never looked so beautiful” you smiled shyly. there was something about Joe, he always knew how to make you feel beautiful. he had a special way with words.

“come on, don’t want to keep you and flo waiting any longer” you said as you pulled yourself away from the hug. he ran back to Florence who squealed when she saw her dad, the two of them were best friends and although it made you jealous their relationship was your favourite thing ever.

seeing the two of them bonding was the most adorable thing in the entire world. even when she was in the womb he would spend hours and hours speaking to your bump with her kicking you in response. “my angel, let’s go. mama is almost ready” you heard him say as he picked Florence up out of the playpen, she squealed in delight as he did.

-♡-

the three of you were lounging around the pool, Italy was boiling hot and luckily the hotel you were staying at had a kids pool and an adult pool. Florence was a baby who loved the water, she never cried when having a bath, if anything she enjoyed it.

splashing around with her toys was her favourite thing to do. she loved your pool that you had back home, every time it was hot Joe would take her into the pool. your friends kids were a bit older than Florence and she loved watching them play in the pool too.

as soon as you and Joe got situated on your sun loungers he grabbed Florence and walked straight to the kid section which was thankfully right in front of you. you watched Florence splash the pool water with her toys, the biggest smile on her face.

Joe was sat opposite her with the exact same expression on his face. it was honestly scary how much Florence looked like him. they had practically all the same features except she had your eyes, she was a carbon copy of him.

aside from the fact that Florence and Joe where best friends and looked exactly like each other the worst of it all was when Florence said her first word which was of course ‘dada’. you had prayed that she said ‘mama’ first but nope. it wasn’t like it actually hurt your feelings, your daughter had days where you were the favourite parent and it made you tear up when she finally did say ‘mama’ for the first time.

Joe and Florence had only been sat in the kid pool for thirty minutes before his back started hurting but the look on his daughters face made it all worth it. other than you, Florence was the best thing to ever happen to him. before her, he didn’t really care about being a dad. it wasn’t something he had ever thought about. but that sunny Friday afternoon, the day you told him, showed him the positive test, he never thought he could love someone as much as he loved her.

“dada” Florence said as she looked up at him and lifted up a purple octopus for him to take. “oh thank you angel” he took the toy from her small hand. Joe watched Florence with the softest smile, she was the most adorable thing ever and he couldn’t get over the fact that you guys had made something so beautiful. Florence paused playing with her toys and yawned. Joe knew exactly what that meant, she only yawned when she needed a nap, it sounded odd because everyone yawns but the little eye rub after her yawn made it obvious. she was tired.

after waking up early (6:37am to be exact but who was checking? definitely not Joe) eating breakfast and all this playing in the pool, the girl had worn herself out. “come on sweetheart, you look like you’re about to fall asleep” Joe said as he stood up, picking up her few toys and shoving them in her pockets and then bending down to pick her up. she had her small arms lifted in the air, her eyes squinting as she looked up at Joe.

he picked her up and made his way back over to you. you where laying on the sun lounger now reading a book with your airpods in. you noticed Joe walking back with Florence hugging him tightly. you took one airpod out and smiled at the two of them. “you okay?” you asked, sitting up. Joe picked up the towel that was on his sun lounger and wrapped it around both him and Florence. “yeah, she just got tired. i mean, it’s around the time she usually has a nap isn’t it?” you looked at the time in your phone and nodded. “yeah, she’s actually stayed awake a lot longer then i thought she would”

Joe sat laid down on the sun lounger, making sure Florence was comfortable before he started running his hand up and down her back and through her hair. it didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, her breathing slowed and she was completely relaxed against him so you went back to your book, letting the two of them have their moment.

it was about 10 minutes after Joe and Florence had sat down and the soft snores was the only thing you could hear from the two of them, it didn’t take long for Joe to fall asleep. he was just as tired as Florence was. you turned your attention to the two of them and felt your heart melt. your two favourite people in your company were the moments you treasured the most.

-♡-

“come on Joe i know it takes ten hours to do your hair but we are gonna be late” you said jokingly as you picked up Florence who was dressed in a white dress with the cutest sandals you’d ever seen, it was the last night in Italy before you went home tomorrow night and you wanted to do something special for Joe. he had planned this whole trip for you, knowing you needed a break from your town and the paparazzi (it’s not like you hit a break from that because they followed you everywhere!).

he needed to be appreciated just as much as he appreciated you and sometimes you struggled to do that with Florence. you weren’t saying that you didn’t love being a mum because you did, however sometimes you and Joe hardly spoke to each other because you were so focused on her.

“i’m coming honey, sorry” he came out of the bathroom with his hair perfectly styled, per usual, and he was wearing a comfortable but smart outfit. black jeans, blue t-shirt, let’s just say he looked perfect. he sat on the bed and put on his trainers and started doing the laces up, he stood up and kissed you on the cheek “you look beautiful baby” you smiled and thanked him with a a passionate kiss.

“and look at my angel” he took Florence out of your arms gently “you look perfect my sweet girl” he kissed her cheek a few times which made her squeal and hide her face in his neck. “right, let’s go, we can’t be late for whatever your mama’s planned can we?” you had seen a a popular restaurant all over social media which about fifteen minute walk from the hotel you were staying at which you also remembered was Joe’s favourite. he had been to Italy a few times and had always gone there with his friends and you had told him a few months ago when planning this trip that you couldn’t get a reservation which he was actually a little upset about. you and him hadn’t ever been there together and he wanted to take you there because he knew you’d love it. it was a surprise for him that you actually did get one. it wasn’t the best surprise out there but you knew it would mean something to him.

as the two of you walked hand in hand, Joe had Florence on his shoulders laughing as her dad played around with her. after about twenty minutes (due to Joe messing about) you guys approached the small town where the restaurant was and Joe’s eyes lit up, he could see the restaurant sign and turned his head to look at you.

“are we going in there?” he squeezed your hand slightly as his body filled with excitement. “yeah, i got us a reservation and wanted to surprise you. it’s not a huge thing but i knew you would like it” his heart melted, that’s one thing he loved most about you. always remembering the little things he had said and trying your best to get those things sorted. he had said about going here ages ago and honestly he had forgotten about it but you, you didn’t and you made sure you got one.

“aww honey, that’s so sweet of you” he let go of your hand and pulled you into his side and wrapped his arm around your waist. he kissed your cheek softly as the two of you continued walking towards the busy looking restaurant.

once sat inside the restaurant you sat opposite Joe with Florence in a high chair at the end next to both of you. she was babbling away in her own little language. Joe replied to everything she said as if he knew what she was saying but it made her happy, she had a smile on her face showing her four small teeth. “last night in Italy. is it bad that i want to live here forever?” Joe said as he turned his attention back to you.

you shook your head “no, it’s beautiful here” you smiled, if you could move to Italy you would, the houses were beautiful, the people were lovely, the views were gorgeous, so what was stopping you?. “maybe we could move here. i mean, not now obviously but sometime in the future we could” Joe said as he ran a hand through his hair.

“also just changing the subject, i really appreciate you doing this for us” he started but you rolled your eyes jokingly “Joe, all i did was make a reservation it’s not that big of a deal” you laughed but he took ahold of your hand and looked at you “it is to me. you went out if your way to get us in here and that’s just a small piece of what you do for us. you take care of flo when i’m away working which fucking kills me but you keep it together, make sure she’s okay and even make sure i’m okay and i’m not even there before you make sure you’re alright yourself. when we are at home together the only time we see each other is when we are in bed and at that point one of us is usually asleep. i know you miss up our date nights and even just being together in general” he was stroking your hand gently as he spoke.

“this vacation has been the best thing for us because we’ve actually spent time together which we rarely do. we have completely different schedules so i know it’s hard but after this movie is over i’m taking a break and i’m going to focus on you and flo. you’re my main priority and i need to spend time with you.” he kissed your hand and smiled.

“we do need to spend more time together and i do miss our dates, they were my favourite” his smile softened and his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly. “i know, so that’s what we are doing. i’ll get someone to look after Florence and we will do something together” with happy your heart melting you leaned over the table enough to kiss him. you could feel him smile into the kiss which you always loved him doing, you didn’t know why, you just did.

“i love you” you said as you pulled away to sit back down “i love you more” you felt your cheeks heat up. you heard a small whine from the little lady who was sat next to you which made you both turn to look at her. she had the smallest frown on her face which made both you a Joe laugh “and we couldn’t forget our favourite girl” he said pulling her out of her high chair and placing her on his lap, smothering her with small kisses which made her giggle, making your heart melt at the sight. your favourite people in the world.

[freelancearsonist]

and they'd find us in a week

➔ Javi Gutierrez x gn!Reader - 1.8k

➔ Javi whisks you away to Italy for your honeymoon. The only problem is, you're too busy exploring your new husband to leave your hotel room.

➔ Rated MA for basically just husband!javi fluffy cock-worship, oral (m receiving), handjobs, cum swallowing, lots of spanish pet names (reader is spanish speaking), no use of y/n, reader is able-bodied but no description of anatomy and no pronouns used. [please let me know if i missed any :)]

You’ve never woken up quite as languidly as you do today.

The first thing your senses are alerted to is the roaring crash of waves. Bright light floods your eyes even through your closed eyelids, and you roll over with a groan to press your face into the plush pillow beneath your head for a few more precious seconds of darkness. It smells of your favorite leave-in conditioner after your shower last night–a familiar scent in this otherwise unfamiliar bed.

Not that you can complain–this is the softest bed you’ve ever slept in. The mattress is cloud-like and the sheets are silky and warm… except on the other side of the bed. Those sheets are rumpled and turned back, cold with absence.

You sit up and rub the remaining dregs of sleep from your eyes, glancing around the sizable hotel room in search of your fiance–husband. You’re still getting used to that shift in title, but it’s a very welcome change.

The balcony door is open, which is why you can hear the waves so clearly. There’s a gentle breeze swirling in through the opening, fluttering the curtains and sending a slight chill down your spine despite how warm the morning already is. The air smells so fresh here–salt and water and everything you love about the beach. It’s spring, the season of rebirth, and things are changing. Leaves are returning, flowers are blooming, and you’re starting a new page in the story of your life with the man of your dreams.

The man of your dreams, who is currently nowhere to be found.

You swing your legs over the edge of the mattress with a groan of protest, still sore and shaky from yesterday–your third day of honeymoon bliss. Your suitcases still sit on the dresser across from the bed, zipped and neatly packed; you haven’t worn clothes in three wonderful, languid, pleasure-filled days. It’s been absolute bliss.

The sound of the shower shutting off alerts you to the fact that it was running in the first place–it was barely noticeable over the sound of the ocean outside the windows. You smile to yourself and lay back down against the pillows, the mission of finding your husband completed. 

Javi comes out of the bathroom moments later, wrapped in the most plush white robe you’ve ever seen while toweling his hair dry. And really, you’ve done nothing over the last three days except wet your sexual appetite–repeatedly and vigorously–with your husband. But seeing him like this makes you hungry; it drives a burning hot rod of arousal straight through the deepest, most unfathomable part of your gut. Your want over the past few days has been completely insatiable.

You look up at him—sleepy eyes half-lidded, wet hair slicked back, the faintest of smiles tugging at his perfect lips—and you are so, so in love with him. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” He says with a smile. “Do you want to order breakfast?”

You’re shaking your head before you can really stop yourself, because there’s only one thing that could quench your appetite right now and it’s standing right in front of you. “No, I’ve got my breakfast right here.”

His mouth opens to ask what you could possibly mean, but you catch his hand and pull him into a deep, languid kiss before he can say anything. It’s slow and syrupy, the morning bleeding into the action. You trace your tongue over his bottom lip and his mouth parts so eagerly to accept you. He’s become so familiar with your desires over the past few days, even after years together thinking he knew everything there was to know. But he keeps learning and adapting, finding new ways to draw little sounds and reactions from you. He’s nothing if not attentive to details and extremely eager to please.

He’s been doing a lot of pleasing over the past few days, though. He’s certainly earned a break and some appreciation, you think.

He lets out a little grunt when you gently push him into the mattress; his lips curl into a smile when you crawl over him to straddle his sturdy hips.

“Mi amor,” he mumbles, trying his best to lean up so he can keep kissing you despite your hands pinning his torso to the plush mattress. “Por favor–”

You lean down to appease him, lips feather-light against his as you whisper, “calmate, mi esposo. Yo cuidaré de ti.”

You can feel how quickly he hardens from your words even through the thick robe covering him and it sends a heady sense of power rushing through your veins. Your husband is a strong, important, powerful man–you’re the only person in the world who can bring him to his knees. He’ll even beg for it, if you ask. He’s putty in your hand, but you don’t take it for granted. You’re lucky and you know it–you’ll spend every day for the rest of your life thanking whatever deity there is for giving you Javi.

“Mi cielo,” he murmurs as your fingers find the tie of his plush white robe. “You don’t have to–”

“I want to, Javi,” you assure him as you slowly pull the knot apart. “Please?”

You can see the gulp that bobs his throat even as his eyes flutter closed and he tilts his head back. “Okay,” he whispers.

You unpeel the robe like a wrapping around a candy, appreciating the sight in all of its decadence but desperate to dig in. 

He’s desperate for it, too. Aching and hard just from your kisses, thick and flushed with arousal. Every beautiful inch of him is ready and waiting for your attention, from the soft curls at his base to the weeping mushroom head of him. 

The first touch of your fingers against his length is electric–he nearly jolts from it. Your fingers are so light and soft, it’s more like a whispering breeze than an actual touch. That is, until you wrap him firmly in your hand, fingers barely long enough to completely circle him. He moans then–a shuddery, shaky, utterly wrecked sound not quite like anything you’ve ever heard before.

“Still sensitive?”

He nods wordlessly, and you can’t blame him really. All you’ve done since arriving in Italy is go at it like rabbits, and last night he actually came dry. He’s bound to be a bit overstimulated, the poor thing.

You halt your hand and meet his dark brown eyes when his head pops up. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” He flushes a bit, surprised at his own desperation. “No, amor, por favor no pares.”

You can’t help the gentle laugh that flows from your lips–you love him like this. Stripped down, not just physically, but spiritually. Soul bared to you in a way that no one else has ever seen him. He allows himself to be weak and vulnerable in your arms because you build him back up stronger every time.

You lower yourself to him and lick languidly, one large stroke of your tongue up the vast length of him. He shivers with the stimulation and lets out a groan, hands clenching into fists at his sides to will himself not to squirm. It’s so hard to sit still like this, though–just the barest touch of your tongue, and he’s already near the brink.

He takes a deep breath, then another, then wills every cell in his body to not come.

Somehow, miraculously, it works–when you take his tip between your plush lips and swirl your tongue just right, he manages to hold it together. He lets loose a low grumble from deep in his chest, though, when your fingers dance down his stomach and over his hip to cradle his balls.

“Ay, dios mio…”

“Good?” You giggle when you ask, because you don’t really need him to answer. You can feel the way his thigh trembles beneath your free hand and see the way his chest hitches with shuddering breaths. His body is tuned like a fine guitar string to your skilled fingers–you know exactly the right chords to strum to get the sounds you want.

Your mouth presses deeper and deeper, the thick head of his hitting the back of your throat long before your nose finds those soft, soapy-smelling curls at the base.

“Ay, mi amor.” It’s more of a whimper than an actual spoken statement–high-pitched and needy. “Por favor…”

You pull off with a pop and let your hand take over with firm strokes that make him whimper. “Qué necesitas, mi cielo?”

“I need–” He gulps thickly, hips stuttering up into your grip, cock twitching as if in anticipation of your permission. “Need to come.”

You hum and lick slowly around his tip, dragging the flat of your tongue over his slit to taste the salty precum pooling steadily there. “Then come, darling.”

And Javi–ever only obedient to you–does exactly that. His body shakes with the force of it, beautiful damp sandy-brown curls splayed out against the pillows and broad hands scrabbling for purchase in the sheets as he fills your mouth. 

You never get tired of the taste of him; he’s the perfect mix of salty and sweet and something wonderful that can only be described as Javi. The first drop that meets your tongue makes you crave more–you push as far as you can to take every following spurt that he pulses into your mouth.

You swallow around him–drawing a whine from his throat in the process–before pulling off to admire your handiwork. And surely you can call yourself an artist, because the fruits of your efforts are a masterpiece. He’s flushed red from the shoulders up, chest heaving as he slowly steadies his breath, mouth agape around moans that have finally ceased.

You kiss up his body as he comes down from the high, over the soft round of his stomach and up his flushed neck, finally coming to his parted lips. His eyes meet yours, and suddenly the entire world is spinning on its axis until it’s flipped onto its back–your back. He chuckles as he hovers over you, scattering kisses all over your face.

“Gracias, mi amor,” he hums contentedly. Like this, you can feel every inch of his skin pressed against every inch of yours, the open robe falling around the parameters of your bodies and caging you into a soft, feathery cocoon.

“Was that what you needed, my darling?”

“Everything I needed and more,” he tells you earnestly. His kisses start to stray off course–across your cheeks, then along your jaw, then down your neck. “May I return the favor?”

It’s a tantalizing offer, certainly; as much as you’re eager to finally leave this room and go explore Italy, it’s not looking like today is going to be the day.

“Por favor, mi esposo.”

And Javi, ever the faithful servant, is more than willing to oblige. Con gusto.

THE END

➔ Translations:

calmate - calm down yo cuidaré de ti - let me take care of you por favor no pares - please don't stop qué necesitas - what do you need? con gusto - with pleasure

➔ A/N: the title of this one is another hozier song (big surprise cece) - "in a week" is so beautiful, pls give it a listen :) thank you as always to @shakespeareanwannabe for betaing this lil thing 🥺 thank you as well to the dieter bravo brainrot club for always enabling me <3

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :)

[01zfan]

consuming the light | o. st

pastors son!shotaro x rich!reader | 8.9k words

went a little overboard with the world building im sorry but i loved this story too much

contains: arranged marriage (not between shotaro and the reader), implied virginity loss, bible study under the guise of fooling around, readers parents are awful, shotaro is the best, ANGSTY, sad ending, oral (fem. receiving), missionary, emotional

sacrilegious masterlist

god was always kind to you. some people called it luck but you knew there was a bigger force behind all the good in your life. you were blessed to say the least. so many people would kill for the life you were born into.

as you walked down the aisle, your thin white veil filtered the colored light coming through the stained glass of the church. it was a veil imported from a place in italy you couldn’t pronounce, and it had beautiful white embroidery that told the story of both you and the man you were going to marry. the symbolism was etched not only into the veil, but also your beautiful dress. the explanation of the stitching had went in one ear and out the other. 

you looked down the aisle to your soon to be husband. with each slow step and each swelling note of the organ you felt like you were walking towards your doom. the light from the stained glass window was artificial, giving the illusion that the rest of your life wouldn’t be drained of color and sunlight.

the sun shined down on you in the form of the pastor’s son. you remember the first day you met him, during a sunday dinner hosted at the church. he helped serve the little kids and you were volunteered to help by your parents. they figured that shotaro could teach you to be kind, something they said you lacked. you weren’t sure if it was true or not, but you were at the age that you believed whatever your parents said. 

the only time you were excited to learn about god was when shotaro became your bible study partner. your parents wanted it more than you did, but you quickly became accustomed to looking at shotaro as he went over bible verses. you barely looked at the passages, eyes trained on his side profile and the way his skin gleamed underneath your kitchen lights. he would look at you as you mouthed latin hymns wrong and blush, knowing that you weren’t paying attention.

you ended up spending more and more time with shotaro outside of the church. he would come over to your house often, gawking at your high ceilings and the maids you had. you learned pretty young that your house was different than everyone else’s. your lifestyle was different, surrounded by custom furniture and large rooms. you would never tell shotaro that you enjoyed going to his house more. his house had food prepared by his parents and his place was cozy and warm. but when shotaro came to your house the cold tile suddenly felt warm underneath your feet, and all you wanted to see was his face when you looked up from your plate at dinner. he took time to learn the names of the people that kept your house up and running, thanking them sincerely when they would bring you fresh cut fruit during your bible study lessons.

your first kiss was with shotaro underneath the big tree in his backyard. you sat on the swing that hung off a large branch and laughed as he pushed you, saying you might end up wrapping around the branch if he kept going. your swings came to a stop and shotaro came to stand in front of you. he looked at you with eyes that reflected the light coming through the trees. you were shy when you said you liked him and the kiss was awkward, lips barely touching before you both pulled away. you both turned away from the other, faces hot and eyes darting everywhere else. shotaro’s hand was hot when he grabbed yours as he walked you home, and he gave you a gentle peck on your cheek when he dropped you off at your door.

from that moment on for more than three years you and shotaro had a relationship of sorts. he would walk you home and hold your hand and look after you. you ended up becoming a regular at church and shotaro started sitting next to you in the pews. no one suspected a thing was going on between you two, sometimes it felt so unreal that you didn’t know what was going on either. you both avoided the topic of defining what you guys had. something about it felt so unholy, like you were straying from the path your god—your parents had carved out for you. you couldn’t resist straying from the path when you first put your tongue in shotaro’s mouth, or when he pulled you to straddle his lap. it was all new for the both of you, learning about passion and fire that burned outside of hell. it was liberating to experience a new emotion and trying to understand it. when you told shotaro how to touch you it was like you finally had control of something in your life.

shotaro had a good head on his shoulders, one that entertained your requests and listened to you. you credited his obedience to the church, thinking about all the sunday school nuns that shaped him into the man you snuck around to see. you knew it was partially credited to his parents. they were different from yours, they had an honest living. you had heard stories of both your fathers growing up together and getting along before they chose different paths in life. your father chose riches over anything, and shotaro’s father chose the path of righteousness. their close relationship in childhood evolved to be something cordial and somewhat awkward, something both you and shotaro bared witness to. you imagine it drove your father crazy seeing someone so honest be just as respected if not more in your town. shotaro’s parents were a important part in the community, maybe even more important than your father. so your parents had built up a fake rapport with shotaro’s parents, one that you’re sure they saw right through. god-fearing people you found out were insanely perceptive. shotaro’s parents didn’t outwardly call out the fraudulence until your parents offered a large donation to the church in exchange for the churches endorsement. 

you still remember the last time you ever saw shotaro. his parents stormed through your house, looking for whichever large room you two resided in. he sat in the nook of your window while you sat beside him, with his face in your hands. his hair blew gently from the spring breeze while you brushed a strand behind his ear. that’s what had become of your bible study, the two of you sneaking away to kiss and look at eachother. 

shotaro sprung up from his spot in the window and you whipped your body around to face the door. it was quiet for a moment, everyone in the room slowly understanding the scene laid out before them. both of your parents stared at the two of you, intruding on an intimate moment. you realized you were caught when your father raised his voice and your mother began screeching. shotaro’s parents were calmer, for some reason that scared you even more.

“we are leaving now, son.” his father said sternly.

shotaro didn’t look at you as he kept his head down, walking towards the door. you were frozen in place, fingernails digging into your knees as you watched shotaro walk away.

you only got one last glance at shotaro as his parents led him out of your room. his father gave one more look to your dad, the scariest look you have ever seen.

shotaro didn’t even make it down the stairs before he heard your parents yelling at you. something about betrayal and risking your lifestyle to sneak around with someone so poor. shotaro and his parents were all shocked. he didn’t get yelled at by his parents, he was sure all the anger they felt for him dissolved into pity. 

you never got the chance to spend much time with him after that day. he became a distant figure in your life. you only caught glimpses of shotaro in the church, running around stretching his hands far to help anyone. you never got the chance to be alone with him ever again, so you were forced to watch him grow up through the church.

you watched shotaro grow into the leader of the youth group, then continue to grow to someone who led sunday service. you watched him get sent off to a private catholic school a couple of towns over. usually it only happened with rich families, but shotaro was a special case. he had wowed the school board and was rewarded a scholarship that allowed him to go. 

as ridiculous as it was, you debated on asking your parents to send you to that school. they were the ones that proposed you go to the expensive school at first, they could’ve afforded it with ease. they insisted you go to make them proud. after the situation with shotaro transpired, making them proud only made you want to deny it more. after spending so much time telling your parents you weren’t going to go to the private school it was too late to go back on your word. so you settled for staying in town. you would just have to wait until school ended so you could see shotaro again. you waited for summer eagerly like all of your peers did, but you had your different reasons. in the back of your head you saw the distant figure of shotaro, coming closer and closer to you as each season passed.

summer was like a movie every year, memories glossy and organic like it was shot on a film camera. the film was different each year—as a child it was bright and saturated, the blue sky popped and the grass shined brightly. the older you got the more muted summers became. you credited it to becoming mature, finally turning into the adult you wanted to be so badly. you made it your plan to become that bad kid your parents called you all those years ago. it wasn’t long before you heard the final bell of school toll. your graduating class ran out in their puritan christian schoolgirl uniforms. the shrill sound of cheers filled the parking lot as everyone took off the cross pendants that adorned all your necks. it was a tradition that started long before you, symbolizing your changing relationship with god. other girls in your class would become closer to him, but you had your plans to abandon him completely.

summers were very important in your town. everyone came home during the summer for the annual congregation at the ocean. it was something like an unofficial holy site, something made up by the elders before the current elders of your congregation. everyone participated in the event, washing away their sins and stress in the holy water of the ocean. it wasn’t an obligation to participate, but everyone had to be there. you saw shotaro there every year, helping take care of the kids and sometimes leading the oceanside service. 

you saw him on the sand, running around with a kid hanging onto his shoulders. you couldn’t help but look and wave at him and he waved back. you wanted him to come to you more than anything. you wanted to tell shotaro that you were an adult now, your parents couldn’t dictate who you spent your time with. even meeting in secret would suffice, but you just had to see him up close again, to have him talk to you. with his parents busy and your parents never coming to the ceremony you could finally get have a word with him. you beckoned to shotaro as you laid underneath your umbrella in the shade. this was the newfound confidence that came with washing away your sins—you were suddenly ready to sin some more. you wanted to whisk shotaro away to the car you had driven here or take him to your empty house. maybe even a secluded part of the oceanfront if he let you.

shotaro came to you after looking bewildered only for a moment. he sat with you underneath the shade of the umbrella, eyes fixed on the changing tides. 

you two both sat in silence, seeing children on the beach run around and adults chatting. it was comforting, being able to be so close to shotaro with so many people around. you put a sandy hand on his knee and shotaro turned his head away from the water to look at you.

”i missed you.” shotaro said.

the way your parents raised you was extremely different from shotaro’s upbringing. it was evident in how you two interacted with eachother. when shotaro had no problem telling you he missed you, you felt sick sometimes even reaching out an affectionate hand to him. the first part of your relationship was like a one sided game of chicken, shotaro had to work hard to whittle down your cold front. but you were older now, a different person who didn’t struggle with that stuff anymore. so you nodded your head and played with the sand some more, trying to distract yourself.

“i missed you, too.” you said.

letting down your walls was worth it when you got to see shotaro smile because of the sweet things you say to him. his hair blew in the light breeze the same way it did that night your parents caught you two. you cast your look down and so does shotaro. his eyes watch your hand as it plays with the sand.

“how are your parents?” shotaro asked.

just as quick as the walls went down, you could feel them go back up. you scoffed and retracted your hand from his knee. shotaro already missed feeling the fine grains of sand that stuck to your palm press against his knee. he turned his head to follow you as he watched you lean back and prop yourself up on a singular fist. with your free hand you moved your shades to rest on your head.

“after all this time the first thing you ask about are my parents.” you said. 

shotaro knew you wanted your words to pack a punch, but you looked distracted as you continued to play with the sand. shotaro could never bring up your parents yelling at you that day, but when he saw you he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about your pained expression when he left your room that final time. shotaro brought a hand to rest on your calf. he squeezed it gently to let you know he was sorry. shotaro felt blessed when he saw you smile. he watches you tilt your head and purse your lips, like you’re trying to think of something.

“wanna get out of here?” you asked.

your hand that was playing in the sand went back to shotaro. you were confusing to him, so shy when it came to affection but still so bold with your words and suggestions. he had trouble believing you were the same girl only a moment ago that could barely say that you missed him. now he was following you towards the parking lot as you headed towards his car.

you led him away from the oceanfront to the parking lot. you bobbed and weaved through cars, going to the familiar dingy shit box shotaro drove. it was almost like you two were robots, neither of you saying a word while shotaro used a slightly shaking hand to unlock his door. shotaro raced to open the passenger door for you, but your hand went to the backdoor instead. you opened it slowly and crawled in, doing your best to give shotaro a view of what he hasn’t seen in months. when you were fully situated in the seat you beckoned to shotaro again. he looked around the parking lot, scanning for anyone watching. once he saw the coast was clear, he went into the backseat too.

you didn’t even let the door close before your lips were on shotaro’s. you wasted no time bringing him in close, swinging your leg over his. shotaro welcomed it, hand going to your hip and your leg. your hands on his shoulder gripped his shirt. he didn’t 

it wasn’t hard to channel all your frustrations and pent up emotions into shotaro. you kissed him with a fierceness, pressing your lips to his quickly. you saw shotaro’s eyes become hooded when you started sucking on his bottom lip.

it took shotaro a moment to get into it. the fear of being caught melted off his shoulders when you brought his hand to rest on your chest. he squeezed the flesh he hadn’t been able to touch in so long, knowing exactly what you needed. when you brought your hand to his clothed dick, he had to pull away.

“we shoudn’t.” shotaro said against your lips.

“i waited a whole year. i can’t wait anymore.” you said. 

shotaro wanted to give in to you so bad. he wanted to make you feel good in the back of his beat up car. but he thought about how you deserved something special in a place that was more private. so shotaro resisted the temptation and took both your hands and put them back at your sides.

shotaro was lucky he practiced restraint, because as he pulled away from you he saw your parents leave their parked car heading for the beach. he pulled away from your lips, visibly distracted.

“what’s wrong?” you asked.

“your parents are heading towards the ocean.” shotaro said.

you crawled over him to see for yourself. sure enough your parents were walking towards the water, weaving through the cars the same way you were. you clambered over shotaro the rest of the way, ignoring his grunts as you opened the door. you were much more rushed, running through the cars trying to find a way back to your spot before your parents got there. shotaro followed behind you, going back to what he was doing before he sat by you.

you had to act as nonchalant as possible when your saw your parents see you. you kept your eyes on shotaro, letting him distract you from your impeding doom coming a step closer. shotaro gave you one last smile before your parents came and stood directly in your line of sight. they blocked your view of your sun. they stood before you like a wall separating you from shotaro. you tried to peer around their bodies but it was no use. your mother waved her hands in front of you to get your attention. you put your sunglasses on top of your head to look at them fully. they wore their usual business attire, they came from whatever meeting to come straight here. it was painfully obvious your parents weren’t going to stay there for long.

“hello honey.” your mom said to you. “congratulations on finishing the school year.”

you stayed seated underneath the umbrella. it was so annoying trying to keep up appearances. your parents were highly regarded in the town, being the second richest family and the only ones with strong political ties. you don’t know if it was because of the money or the status that made your parents so distant. you lived with them your whole lives but knew nothing about them. you were closer with the various nannies you had in your life, ones that would mysteriously quit when you referred to them as mom. 

your relationship with your parents was strained to say the least. after they degraded you and shotaro for hours on end that day the chasm between the three of you only deepened. your relationship had devolved from a mutual respect to a silent agreement that you would behave and be the dutiful daughter you had to be as long as they funded your lifestyle. this included beautiful sunglasses, gorgeous gowns, and extravagant parties. beyond the cash they threw at you they were barely parents, never knowing anything about your life. but them congratulating you on graduating was the first thing they have said to you in weeks, so you pursed your lips and nodded curtly.

“thank you.” you said.

you saw shotaro’s parents walk by and you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at them. your relationship with the couple had become strained too. you wished more than anything to feel the warmth of their home again, to be able to say a word to their son again. your parents noticed your attention had shifted, so your dad cleared his throat loudly.

“let’s go home. we have some very exciting news to share with you.” your dad said.

so you went on an awkward and silent car ride home with your parents. they never picked you up, much less drove you places. the pit in your stomach started growing and you could practically feel an ominous dark cloud appearing over your head. your parents said nothing for the rest of the car ride, letting your mind wander to the worst scenarios.

you weren’t sure what was happening when you opened your door to see a man and his parents sitting on the sofa in your living room, chatting about something. the man got up almost immediately and you were taken aback by the person standing in front of you. he wore the nicest clothes you’ve ever seen and had his hair primmed and proper. you felt extremely underdressed compared to him. you were still modest in your beach outfit, but the man in front of you was wearing clothes of a professional.

you were stunned into silence seeing the man stand before you, and even more stunned at how everyone in your living room was staring at you expectantly. you realized that you were the left out of the loop, completely in the dark about the situation at hand. you look to your parents for the answers.

“what’s going on?” you asked them.

“have a seat honey.” your dad said.

your parents looked at you expectantly and you sat down. although you were defiant, you were still a dutiful daughter, one that listened. that’s why you sat down and listened to your parents while they told you why the family was in your home.

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing as your parents told you about your future marriage. the man in front of you was the son of the richest family in town. you could tell by the way your dad’s eyes shined when talking about the family that they were richer than you could comprehend. ties with the money stronger than anything else. you visibly stiffened hearing it, before you could object your dad held up a finger to silence you. you blinked away tears as both your parents and the man’s attorney told you the conditions of the marriage. apparently everything had already been planned out and decided while you didn’t know a single thing. you weren’t able to get a word in until they were done. you looked around the room, everyone smiling as if it was the best plan in the world.

“what if i say no?” you said quietly.

“we cut you off.” your father said simply. 

you looked down at your hands, clasped together in your lap. you would’ve never thought you’d be married off to someone you barely knew. your mother had been lucky in that aspect; she got to marry your father who was a family friend. but you had never seen the man that sat next to you on the couch in your entire life. your family was rich to the point this didn’t need to happen. you looked to your mom and dad, the looks on their face told you trying to persuade them out of this was no use. at the feeling of the man’s hand on your shoulder it lit a fire in your belly, a defiant one that had you shrugging his arm off of you.

you stood up from the couch and you locked eyes with your father. your mom instantly resorted to protecting her integrity, looking at the man’s family with her smiling face and customer service voice.

“we will see you guys at the party tonight. thank you for stopping by.”

your mother shuffled the man and his family out while you stayed there staring down your father. he didn’t relent or say a single thing until the door closed.

“i refuse.” you seethed.

“you don’t have a choice.” you father said. 

you wanted to yell at him, but you knew it was no use. your mind flashed to shotaro and the way his hair would blow in the nook of your room when the window was open.

“we already have the money. we don’t need to marry into more of it.” you pleaded.

for the first time in your life, you made your father laugh. to the point where he nearly had tears coming from his eyes. he laughed the whole day, only laughing more after seeing anger take over your features. he laughed as your anger turned into defeat. his laughs rang in your ears for the days to come, turning you into the shell of the person you once were. you had lost all defiance in your body, finally becoming the compliant daughter he always wanted.

when the party came, you had no energy left in you to say snarky remarks or roll your eyes. you had become unassertive, nodding your head and saying a meek yes whenever asked a question. you could only look ahead, focusing on random paintings hung to the walls as you heard your father pretend to get choked up talking about how he will be walking his daughter down the aisle. 

you imagined seeing shotaro across the room, having him come up to you and whisk you away to a secret place for just the two of you. when you danced in the ballroom you imagined shotaro expertly blending with the crowd, dancing with you and telling you the plan to escape. he’d squeeze your hand extra tight before heading towards the exit. you wondered if he had heard the news yet, how he felt about it. when you thought too much about him your eyes started to water and the lump in your throat got bigger. you needed a place to cry, what better place than the nook in your room where you last felt love. you were able to finally sneak away after severable feeble attempts, exiting through a door in the kitchen.

shotaro was able to sneak into the party after being let in by staff that liked him. he wandered around the party, scared to be caught by your parents, knowing it would lead to him getting kicked out. once shotaro realized that your parents were too invested in talking to the esteemed guests of the party not sparing him a second look, he walked freely around the party. he realized quickly that this wasn’t a celebration thrown for you, but just another opportunity for your parents to make money.

shotaro felt himself fall apart when he opened the door to your room. he heard you first, the quiet sniffling drowning out the sound of your door opening.

you got up from the nook in your bedroom window to turn towards your door, getting ready to yell at whoever came in. you melted seeing shotaro, the tears you were holding back flowing freely. it was like no time had passed between the two of you, a whole school year of no contact dissolving into the air as you held out your arms to him. 

shotaro sat beside you and held you as you cried into his lap. he was patting your back and rubbing your head, comforting you anyway he could. shotaro kept telling you it’s okay a million times over like it might fix the current situation. he realized he had no idea what to say to you, only that he felt tears threatening his own eyes as he thought more and more about you. when you finally pulled away, makeup you had cried off stained his black pants.

“i’m sorry.” you hiccuped.

shotaro shook his head immediately.

“i should be the one that’s sorry,” shotaro said. ”i should’ve never left”

you sniffle to sit back up and look at him. 

“i figured if i got a good education your parents would view me favorably.” shotaro said. 

shotaro used the corner of his sleeve to blot away some of your ruined makeup. it was no use as your eyes swelled again, tears running down your cheeks. shotaro saw a cold resolve settle across your face. you looked up to shotaro, forcing his eyes to hold contact with your bloodshot ones.

“my whole life my parents have acted like god, and you left me just so you could try to please them?” you said quietly.

shotaro wished you sounded angry when you asked the question. he actively watched the fire burn out from behind your eyes, replaced with the same cold look shotaro saw on your fathers features. your perfect posture had devolved into you slumping against him. he couldn’t stop his hands from levitating to your face, trying to warm you up with his clammy hands. 

the feeling of shotaro’s hands were lost on you, eyes steely as you looked ahead. you quickly found out it didn’t matter, nothing did. even if you blew up and cursed at shotaro for wanting to please your parents instead of pleasing you it wouldn’t change your fate. if you kicked shotaro out and cried in your bed alone you would still be walking down the aisle tomorrow to a man you didn’t even know. atleast with your head pressed to shotaro’s chest you could hear his heart pound in his chest a thousand miles a minute and feel his hands wrapped around your body. the possibility of never feeling this close to anyone ever again hit you like a javelin in your stomach. it made you want to double over in pain, it felt like you were losing your breath as you held shotaro’s hand tightly.

“what am i supposed to do?” you asked.

shotaro didn’t have the answers for you as you looked up at him. in your eyes he could see new tears welling and taking the same path down your cheeks.  your eyelashes clumped together from the tears and you were starting to be reduced to sniffles. 

you could see shotaro’s eyes go blank and you realized he didn’t have an answer for you. your blurry eyes travelled to every part of his body, trying to find the answer there. you look at his black hair, the way it falls right above his eyes. every time he blinks his strands move, his hair is practically dancing as he tries to blink away tears. your eyes go to shotaro’s hands, how they grips yours so tightly that you don’t want to let go. you wonder if he will use those same hands to pray for your marriage and future that starts tomorrow. you like that you can still feel his heart beat, how it increased when you looked him in the eyes for too long.

“do you love me, shotaro?” you ask.

shotaro is happy that he knows the answer to this question—he has for a long time. he brushes a piece of hair behind your ear before going back to blot the tear tracks on your cheeks. he nods gently looking into your eyes.

“i love you more than you’ll ever know.” shotaro says quietly. 

its a quiet declaration of love as he wipes your tears away. your hand on his bicep tightens. the somber look in your eyes is replaced with a desperate one as you bring yourself from his chest to look shotaro in the eyes. 

“can you show me. please.”

shotaro could actively feel his reserves melting away the longer he looked at you. he recognized that look on your face from the countless times you two snuck away to fool around. you guys never did something when there was more than your housekeepers around. festivities from the party travelled upstairs and bled through the door. all it took was one single person to walk in and see you two. but you increased your grip on shotaro’s bicep as you readjusted yourself on the ledge. shotaro gave one last glance to your door. he remembered that he locked it after he came in. he put his other hand to rest behind you as he leaned in close. his eyes alternated between your lips and your eyes, looking for any doubt or hesitancy.

“are you sure?” shotaro asked.

he felt your hand go down to his wrist as you spread your legs. your beautiful dress rode up past your thigh as you led shotaro’s hand to your heat. his eyes grew wide but you kept your voice steady.

“this is the one time in my life i get to make the decision,” you pressed shotaro’s palm flat to your panties, letting him feel the heat. “i’ve been sure about this for a very long time.”

that was all shotaro needed. he used his other hand that was rested behind you to tilt your head, exposing your neck to him. shotaro lets his lips graze the skin of your neck, loving the way you shiver beside him. he presses his hand further into you, and you let out a sigh as you lean into him.

“i’ll let you make all the decisions tonight.” shotaro whispers into your neck.

it is sexual but it’s comforting to see how easy it is for shotaro to understand what you need. he gives you the reigns and the ability to be god on your last night of freedom. you nod your head immediately while pushing your hips to meet shotaro’s hand. he uses the heel of his palm to press against your clothed clit and his finger pushes into you. your hand, searching for something to hold, goes to your window blinds.

shotaro brings your face down to his to bring you into a kiss. the moonlight shines on you both through the window as he uses his free hand to guide the back of your neck deeper into him. shotaro lets his tongue graze your teeth before you open your mouth wider. his tongue presses against your cheek before finding your tongue, loving the feeling your your wet muscles touching. it is messy, so messy that a string of spit connects your mouths when shotaro pulls away.

“where do you want me?” shotaro asks.

it takes you awhile to find your voice again. you feel almost nervous being in charge, but shotaro rotating his hand to palm you makes your anxiety fall off your shoulders.

“on the bed.” you say.

shotaro stands up first, reluctantly pulling his hand away from your core to help you stand up from the nook. you already feel weak in the knees as shotaro leads you to your bed, a gentle hand on your back as you guys make your way across your marble floor. it’s almost like a dance, you two move in beat to the music that plays downstairs.

shotaro pulls back the canopy surrounding your bed so you can go through. you sit in the middle of your alaskan king bed, almost swallowed by the plushies and blankets that surround you. shotaro lets the curtains close as he continues to stand next to your bed. you stare at the outline of his body illuminated by the yellow glow of lamps in your room.

“do you want me to take off my clothes?” shotaro asks. 

you dig your feet underneath a blanket as you think. shotaro stands outside patiently, waiting for your order.

“just your pants and shirt,” you see shotaro reach for the waistband of his pants. “leave your underwear on.” you blurt out.

shotaro pauses only for a moment while he takes in his request. you can hear him laugh and see the shadow of him undressing himself. you take off your underwear and attempt to take off your dress but the zipper is out of your reach. 

you don’t let shotaro see you struggle to reach the zipper when he pulls back the drapes of your canopy. he looks at you and you move over slightly, as if there’s not enough room on the bed for the both of you. shotaro settles in next to you and goes back to the same position you were at sitting on the nook. you let your hands run over his upperbody, eyes looking at the bulge in his boxers. shotaro lets out a small sound of surprise when his hand presses to your bare pussy.

“so wet.” shotaro murmurs to himself.

you nod your head and lift your hips slightly while shotaro presses his palm against your clit again. the on and off presses has you gasping and closing your legs around his hand. shotaro has to use the hand that was guiding you through the make out session to apply pressure on your leg in efforts to keep them apart.

“do you want me to do this to you all night?” shotaro says in between kisses on your neck.

you have lost half your mind at this point. you shake your head trying to gather what’s left of your thoughts. you remember the sensation of shotaro’s fingers pressing into you over your panties.

“put a finger in.” you say.

shotaro obliges immediately, your wet hole giving no resistance. it has both of you moaning, the sensation new to the both of you.

“another.” you moan quietly.

when shotaro puts his second finger completely in, he does a scissoring motion inside of you. it is foreign but builds up a heat in your stomach and you can hear the tiny squelching of shotaro’s fingers interacting with your slick. you instinctively close your eyesdig your fingernails into his shoulder.

“feels good?” shotaro asks.

he kisses your eyelid and you nod your head yes. your hips feel like they’re lifting on their own accord, trying to feel more of shotaro’s fingers.

because your eyes are closed you don’t see shotaro more his body to slot between your two legs. when you no longer feel his warmth next to you, your eyes open. you see shotaro in a position you’ve never seen him in before, on his stomach as he lifts up your dress just enough to uncover your lower half. you let your upper body lower, until your propped up on your elbows. you keep an eye on shotaro and he keeps an eye on you, placing wet open mouthed kisses on your thighs. he was dangerously close to your center, a new wave of your slick coating his fingers. the speed of shotaro’s fingers was cruel and slow. you couldn’t stop your hips from bucking into his hand at a faster pace. each time you did so, shotaro’s palm grazed your clit.

“can i try something on you?” shotaro asked. he continued to place tender kisses on the hot skin of your thigh. “i heard people talking about it at my school and i could only think of you when i heard it.”

”okay.” you whined.

shotaro pulled one of his fingers out of you and you whine dagain at the loss. he used his free hand to push your thigh towards your stomach and placed an open mouthed kiss on your folds. your elbows suddenly slid out from underneath you, the new sensation making your back hit your bed with a soft thud. you focused on the canopy of your bed, the royal red and gold fabric that cascaded down your bed. it was one of the many signs of wealth in your life. you would give it up in a heartbeat to feel shotaro between your legs everyday.

shotaro looked up at you from between your legs, only getting a glimpse of your heaving chest. your boobs rested so nicely in your dress, and your pretty whimpers made him want to continue kissing your folds. shotaro was surprised seeing all of his peers at school so sinful, performing acts on each other that would send a pastor into cardiac arrest. but he understood why they did those things when he got his first taste of you. you were sweet and coated his tongue, he found himself needing more. 

you placed your legs over shotaro’s shoulders as his hand that was holding your thigh went to spread your pussy lips. he was licking whatever you body would give him earnestly, wrapping his lips around your clit before sucking. this had you pressing your head into the pillows and closing your thighs around his head. 

you got back on one of your elbows to wrap your hand in shotaro’s hair. you used the grip you had on his locks to push your further into your heat, mouth agape while you rode his tongue. you would’ve apologized sincerely in the moment for being so greedy, but you could make out shotaro’s smile in your dimly lit room. your hand pushed him further into your heat, his finger and tongue moving in tandem.

“shotaro.” you moaned.

shotaro looked up at you from in between your legs, humming into your pussy. your thighs pressed around his head again.

“keep going.” you said.

shotaro hummed again before focusing his eyes back on your heat. his speed picked up, the sucking and the licking and the kissing quickly became too much for you. shotaro pulled away his mouth to piston his two fingers into you again, wanting to see your face as you finished around him. the eye contact is what sent you over the edge and what made shotaro almost cum in his pants. your walls closing in on shotaro’s fingers almost made it impossible for him to move his digits. he kept going driven by the sound of his name falling from your lips.

by the time you came back to earth, your back was pressed into the mattress again and you were sure your head would leave an indent in the pillow. you looked down from your spot, shotaro looked down at you in amazement. your dress was haphazardly pushed push past your hips and your legs had folded in on themselves without shotaro keeping them apart. your hair was already sticking to your forehead from the sweat and you felt like you looked insane. shotaro looked at you like you were god in the flesh. maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to get on his knees for you.

you used the last of your strength to push yourself back up, eye level with shotaro who was resting on his haunches. you looked down at his boxers again. his dick twitched underneath the thin cotton layer, and you swore you could see a patch of wetness on the fabric. 

you turned your body around, showing the zipper of your dress to shotaro.

“help me with the zipper.” you said. 

any authority in your voice was replaced with raspiness. you had to clear your throat as shotaro slowly brought the zipper down your body. shotaro helped you out of your dress without asking, pulling your arms out and letting the dress fall to your stomach. hiss hands went to the clasp of your bra, waiting for you to tell him to help you with that as well.

“bra too, please.” you said.

it was the same process, him helping you out of it before tossing it to the end of the bed. shotaro slowly turned you back around, guiding you back down on the bed. shotaro gently takes off your dress and you lift your hips to help him.

when you are fully naked you hike up your legs, making your knees touch to cover up your heat. shotaro lets you cover yourself up, a gentle hand resting on your knee. your eyes keep drifting down to his boxers, and you put a gentle foot to rest on his dick. shotaro instantly hisses from the contact and he bucks up into your foot. shotaro’s action surprises you both. 

“fuck.” shotaro says breathlessly.

“take your boxers off.” you say while moving your feet.

shotaro tipped forward on the bed to hover his body over yours. you could see his dick springing free, bobbing around before sticking straight forward.

shotaro kept his body above yours waiting for your next order. you saw how angry and red his tip was, how it seemed to be aching.

“touch yourself.” you said quietly.

shotaro wrapped his hand around his dick and began pumping slowly. it was the same pace he had when fingering you, slow and controlled. the power you had over shotaro in that moment went straight to your head. he let out puffs of air as he continued to touch himself. you wrapped your arms around him and brought him closer to you, until your foreheads were touching. shotaro kissed your lips and you preened you neck to give him better access.

“i want it inside.” you whispered to shotaro.

shotaro’s hand let go of his length and went to your hips. his fingers were sticky as he pressed them into your skin.

“are you sure?” shotaro asked.

“don’t ask me that.” you said.

shotaro kissed your eyebrows that furrowed. he apologized before bringing his hips close to yours. you instantly forgave him when you felt his tip prod against your entrance. 

“ready?” shotaro asked.

you nodded your head and he brought your lips in for another kiss before sliding in. it was little to no resistance, but your walls wrapped around him all the same. you were basically sucking in shotaro until he bottomed out, both of you letting out moans at the feeling of him completely inside of you.

“keep going.” you whined against shotaro’s lips.

he didn’t have to be told twice before pulling out and thrusting into you again. your hips touched each time, causing you to wrap a leg around shotaro’s waist. his forehead still rested against yours, the sweat on both of your skin keeping you together. shotaro let his eyes wander down to your chest, watching your breasts move with his thrusts. you while body reacted to him, from your eyes all the way down to your feet. it gave shotaro the drive and energy behind his thrusts. he would fuck you like this all night if you’d let him. he used both of his hands to hold your cheeks, separating your foreheads to press kisses all over your face. your sweat and some tears stuck to his lips, you were all over him. shotaro kept a hand on your face as he looked down where you were swallowing him up with ease. 

“can i—” shotaro started.

“yes.” you whined.

shotaro used his hand to unwrap one of your legs and put it over his arm. this new angle made it feel like shotaro was splitting you down the middle. you cried and pressed your hands to his chest, feeling the taut muscle underneath his skin.

“shotaro.” you cried out. 

shotaro went back in, somehow even deeper than before.

“i know. i know.” shotaro cooed. 

he had to put his body upright to get a better angle, but he still found himself folding over to kiss your face. his other hand that wasn’t holding up your leg held your hand. he could tell you were trying so hard to keep your eyes open for him, but pleasure was taking over.you squeezed his hand each time he hit a part deep inside of you. shotaro was taken aback at how you looked so pretty like this, laid out for him. he wished it was him that would have your hand tomorrow.

“you should run away with me.” shotaro said in between thrusts. 

your eyes snapped open and you clamped around him. shotaro smiled and leaned over again to kiss new tears that had fallen.

“okay.” you moaned.

it was hard to remember what you were agreeing to. you just wanted shotaro to keep hitting that spot that was deep inside of you.

“we can get married and live in a cute little place, yeah?” shotaro said. 

his pace was picking up and you didn’t know what was happening anymore. you were slowly losing control of your body, driven by the steady sound of your thighs slapping shotaro’s skin. he let go of your leg to fuck you in missionary, pressing his chest so close to yours it kept your boobs in place.

“i love you.” shotaro whispered in your ear.

you brought your nails down shotaro’s back, your legs wrapped around his waist brought him closer. the tears had started to come out more aggressively, you could feel the warm trail down the sides of your face.

”i love you too.” you silently cried.

you pressed your head into shotaro’s neck as he kissed your temple. his arms went behind your back like he was holding you, and he was driving his hips deeper and harder into you. your moans had turned into high pitched cries. you didn’t have to say you were close, both you and shotaro knew. he also knew that he should pull out now, but you kept your legs wrapped around his waist as you started moving your hips to meet his.

“inside. please.” you whispered.

shotaro came immediately once you told him to. it came out in thick ropes while your walls milked his dick. even in his haze of euphoria, shotaro brought a hand to your clit to stimulate the bundle of nerves. your back arches off the bed as you came around him. you couldn’t stop the high octave sounds from escaping you, and shotaro wouldn’t have it any other way. he was letting out pathetic sounds himself, whining and whimpering your name underneath your canopy. 

shotaro didn’t pull out until he had gone soft, both of you shivering from the odd sensation. he rolled off of you and brought you close to him, arms wrapping around your body like he was giving you a hug. you started crying into shotaro’s chest and he rubbed your back, telling you it was going to be okay.

you and shotaro stayed awake well after the party was over. you spent your time tracing out his palm with your fingers before clasping your hand over his, clasping your hands together a million different ways to make sure he was really there. you kept your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat drum against your ear as shotaro gave you forehead kisses. the canopy around your bed gave you semblance of privacy, keeping your naked bodies partially hidden through thin draping. the longer you stayed in that position the less you cared if someone walked in—maybe your soon-to-be husband would walk in and call off the marriage immediately. if your parents banished you and wrote you out your inheritance so be it. but you knew shotaro would never forgive himself if you lost your stability in life because of him. maybe you two would find a way around your marriage. rich people committed adultery all the time. 

neither of you said a word until you saw that the sun was beginning to rise. it was an awful feeling seeing the lamps in your room be outshined by the sun because it meant that the day was here. you would lose your last name and any freedom your parents allowed you would be under scrutiny by your husband. you weren’t marrying the one you truly loved, the one whose heartbeat increased against your ear. shotaro began gently rubbing your arm, trying to comfort you as soon as possible. but you were out of tears as you raised your head to look at him. you moved some of shotaro’s hair out of his face. you wish he could stay with you forever

“they’ll be here soon to get me ready for the wedding.” you said.

shotaro wanted to stay too. the way he hesitated before sitting up and kissing your hand that stayed near his face. he put on his clothes slowly, looking around for garments that were right in front of him. you stayed perched on your bed, watching the love of your life solemnly get ready to leave you forever. 

when shotaro was done he went to the nook, leaning over to open the window and take out the screen. you rolled out of bed and threw on your robe that hung from a pillar on your bed. you tied it tight while walking over to shotaro who was preparing himself to exit through the window.

“are you sure?” you asked, peering out the window. 

the drop wasn’t too bad, but it was a drop regardless. if shotaro hurt himself you don’t know what you would do. shotaro smiled and looked down himself. he turned to you and nodded.

“i can make it.” shotaro said. 

he took one last look at your room, seeing all the knick knacks you have collected over the years chaotically placed everywhere. your room was the only place in your house that didn’t feel sterile like a hospital or made him nervous. it was comforting the same way you were. shotaro couldn’t believe this was the last time he’d be in your room. he looked at your desk and the calendar that was above it, seeing ‘shotaro day’ in big bold letters two days ago. 

“will you be alright?” shotaro asked. 

you nodded, because that’s all you could do.

“i’ll find a way.” you said simply.

“we’ll find a way,” shotaro said. “your staff likes me, i’m sure they’ll tell me when i can get you alone.”

shotaro gave you one more longing kiss before moving out of your window. you had to look away when shotaro lowered himself from your windowsill, getting his body as close as possible to the ground. you wanted to grab his hands and pull him back up and beg him to stay with you. but you had to watch him drop down into the flowerbed on the backside of your house, perfectly fine from the fall.

shotaro gave you one last look and waved goodbye. you had to bite your lip to hold yourself back from yelling his name as he walked away.

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Hi hon, I've been reading your work for our lovely Jethro Gibbs, and I had a lil fic/drabble idea of my own- if you have the time

Lets say you and Gibbs are on vacation, and you convince him to go biking with you. He grudgingly agrees, and when he sees you happy and looking back at him smiling hes just so whipped- maybe thinking about how he got so lucky and just tooth rotting fluff, yk? (He would def try to race you) ♡

I’m so sorry this took me so long to get to 😭 But this request is too cute 🥹 I hope I did your idea justice!

—————

“Come on, Jay,” you groan, “When’s the last time you rode a bike? 1914?”

“A little earlier actually,” he fires back, barely repressing a smile, “before we boarded the Titanic.”

Dropping your phone in the wicker basket attached to the handle bars, you make your way over to your husband of 4 days and 16 hours, give or take a few with the time difference in Italy. You slide his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and settle them in his hair before lovingly running your thumbs back and forth over his cheeks. “You look downright fabulous for your age. What’s your secret?”

He gently brings your left hand to his lips and kisses the band adorning your ring finger. You can’t help but smile at the gesture. “I marry younger every time.”

Your smile drops immediately, and you playfully glare at him. “Ruined it.”

Jethro barks out a laugh, tugging you closer and pressing his lips to yours until he feels them twist upwards into a grin again. “Better?”

“No,” you answer cheekily, pulling away to get settled on your seat. “As punishment, I hereby declare you enjoy a leisurely bike ride with your wife down to the coast.”

He shakes his head with a smile as you take off down the road, ringing the little bell and taunting him over your shoulder. Jethro swings his leg over his matching bicycle and readjusts his sunglasses before pedaling to catch up. He’s admittedly a little wobbly at first and he feels the tiniest bit ridiculous, but when you turn to look at him with a brilliant smile, all of his insecurities melt away.

You’re positively glowing in the Amalfi sunshine, your nose crinkling in delight and a laugh bubbling out of you when you narrowly avoid a street vendor selling flowers on the sidewalk. Jethro slows to apologize to the vendor, surprised when he shakes his head and offers a single flower to the older man before pointing in your direction. Your husband angles his head in thanks, then doubles his efforts to reach you again.

“What happened to ‘leisurely’, you little speed demon?” Jethro calls, and you crest to a stop to wait for him.

“Sorry, slowpoke,” you tease, your face lighting up when he presents the vibrant red rose to you. Your eyes flutter closed as you inhale deeply, and when they open again, Jethro feels his heart skip a beat at the pure adoration swimming in them. “It’s perfect,” you declare, sweeping your hair into a low bun and tucking the stem behind your ear.

“You’re perfect,” your husband croons, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. He says it almost subconsciously, but the meaning behind the words is genuine. He can’t help the slow smile that spreads across his face as he takes in your beautiful features, the way your head is tilted just slightly while you study him in kind, the delicate wisps of stray hairs framing your face, the twinkle in your eyes. A soft dusting of pink colors your cheeks under his intense gaze, and you turn away bashfully with a quiet, “Stop looking at me like that or I’m gonna melt, Jay.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and nudges your back tire with his foot to get you moving again. You start pumping your legs to continue down the street, and when you turn back to see where Jethro is, you find him looking up at the sky with a small smile on his face.

“What was that about?” you ask gently when he’s by your side again.

“Oh, that?” He places his hand over yours on the handlebar and gives it a squeeze. “Just thanking Shan for sending you to me.”

Tears spring to your eyes at the raw emotion in his voice, and you think about how far you’ve come since the day you first met Jethro. Your reminiscing is short-lived, the cheeky bastard taking advantage of your pause to get ahead of you and yelling, “Race ya there!”

You laugh in surprise, hastily swiping at your eyes before kicking off from the street. “Get back here, old man! You’re supposed to let me win! You’ve been married enough times to know about happy wife, happy life- hey! Cheater!”

[iamleesi]

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: The girl finally wakes up but the brothers are acting suspicious and you don’t like it one bit

Warnings: Mention of captivity, mention of Hydra (if that’s a warning?), mention of experiments and a tiny bit of sad Bucky.

Other: English isn’t my first language bla bla I think you already know. Also mention of my girl Chip the spoiled leopard, if you know you know.

-> Masterlist

-> Part eleven ; Part thirteen

-> Mother of the year (12)

“Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man, just bought a new mansion somewhere in Italy. Here are the pictures the billionaire allowed us to take.” The TV anchor announced, displaying images of a super villa with a giant pool that Stark had apparently bought. That fucker was out there living his best life while the boss was probably in Hydra’s hands. For a moment you swore you wanted to reach his level of nonchalance.

You sat on the couch eating ice cream, having nothing better do to than watch the news. Nothing exciting if not for some reporters who concentrated more over what Steve Roger’s daily routine was rather that the actual important things.

Bucky was out on his usual morning run about two hours ago, he had offered you to join him and that warmed your heart since it was the first time he proposed to do something together for the first time ever since you met him. Truth was, you weren’t really the most athletic person around; your stamina was great, yes, it was your brain that was lazy.

It was still early in the morning, and Sam and Dean hadn’t answered their phones yet. Not even with a text. Their car was still parked outside, as you had noticed when you looked out of the window earlier. You might have thought they were dead if not for their usual morning screaming match that the whole neighborhood could hear. You considered going over to their place to see if Cassandra had woken up - it would be strange if she hadn’t - but you opted not to. If they had something important to share, they’d show up.

Your curiosity piqued when you heard voices from outside, and specifically it was a girl’s laugh that made your frown since it sounded like it came from your lawn. You tossed the ice cream box aside and walked over to the door, swinging it open.

Bucky was already back from his morning run, and there was a girl you recalled as Dalia right beside him. Both of them were wearing jog clothes, which made you assume they spent the last couple of hours together. Or, at least, some time considering the too friendly way she was clinging to him.

He was telling her something that made her laugh loudly and nudge his arm playfully, and you bit your inner cheek at the sight. The man didn’t even seem bothered by the touch or her presence, so much for someone who was usually as social as a rock.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching the both of them like a hawk - or more like an old, noisy woman. It wasn’t jealousy, though, of course it wasn’t; you had absolutely nothing to be jealous of considering that technically you and Bucky weren’t even friends. But something deep inside you boiled at the view, a strange feeling you tried to ignore.

“Bye, Harry!” Dalia said, using the fake name Bucky was using for the mission, smiling brightly at your supposed-to-be husband as she waved and walked away, back to her mother’s house. She even winked at him as she left despite noticing your presence, and she knew you were his wife. What a beautiful way to start the day.

Bucky’s smile vanished as soon as he turned around in your direction, ready to head back inside. He raised a questioning brow when he saw your expression. “What?”

“I didn’t know you were this funny, Harry.” You remarked, as you crossed your arms under your chest.

He stopped on the porch steps, sighing loudly. “It’s part of the job.” He said, walking past you inside the house. “We need to stay in character.”

You rolled your eyes and followed him inside, closing the door behind you. “Right. So if I get too cozy with her brother it’s not okay, if you flirt and make her laugh it’s part of the job?”

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “Two completely different situations. Plus I wasn’t flirting, what I was saying wasn’t even funny. And it’s not like I could push her away, we have to blend in. Remember?”

You crossed your arms tighter, leaning now against the kitchen counter. “I get that, just remember who you’re married to.”

He raised an eyebrow as he walked towards the fridge to get some eggs, a grin making its way on his face. “Are you getting possessive? Because I have to admit, it’s kind of cute.”

You scoffed at that. “Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not the type to get possessive over anyone. All I want is for this mission to not be compromised because you can’t keep it in your pants. But you do you, I guess.” You raised your hands in surrender. It wasn’t a lie, Bucky getting involved with someone else outside the case could cause too many problems.

Like that one time Pietro almost blew up the whole mission by ruining a woman’a marriage, prompting her soon-to-be-ex-husband to try and kill him… and that wasn’t even the first time something like that happened. Pietro wasn’t exactly known for his professionalism, and not even his speed could save him from bullets. But thankfully he didn’t become a colander.

“Believe it or not, I’m great at keeping it in my pants and I have no intention of getting involved with anyone.” Bucky chuckled, walking over to the cabinets to grab a bowl. “Now, do you want breakfast or was that ice cream you left melting on the couch enough?”

You have him an ironic smile as you went back into the living room to retrieve the box of that delicious ice cream. “What are you even cooking? The fridge is empty.”

“Eggs… it was the only thing in there.” He replied, as you tossed the food back into the freezer. “We need to buy groceries between a murder and another, Emma. We can’t live off of junk food forever.”

“Nah.” You shook your head, waving a hand dismissively. “Speak for yourself; I’m perfectly fine with this arrangement.”

He let out an annoyed sound, choosing to simply drop the conversation rather than try to convince you otherwise because he knew it was most likely impossible.

As you settled back on the couch, Bucky busied himself in the kitchen. The sound of eggs sizzling in the pan filled the air as you watched a documentary about a leopard that couldn’t hunt for her life, and you couldn’t help but feel completely at ease despite all the shit you found recently. Perhaps it was your philosophy of ignoring problems until they disappeared.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” You called out, raising your voice just enough for him to properly hear from the kitchen.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, shrugging even though you could not see him. “We should check on Sam and Dean. They’ve been acting weird ever since we left Malcom’s house, usually they’d be here already at this hour. Also, we need to see if Cassandra is awake, she could solve all of our problems if she stopped playing dead for a second.”

“True. Poor girl’s probably traumatized, though. I usually sleep too to avoid facing my problems.” You said, pulling your legs up onto the small coffee table. “Remember we need to go to Mrs Miller’s twin sister, as we agreed yesterday. Did you think of asking Dalia about her while you were, you know, flirting?” You asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm just for the fun of pissing him off.

Bucky grunted, clearly irritated by you bringing up the subject again. “I wasn’t flirting and no, I didn’t.”

You saw him walking back into the living room, carrying two plates of scrambled eggs - you frowned in confusion at the view. Not that you minded, the opposite; still, it was weird having this sort of normality with someone like him. He placed one plate on your lap, along with a fork, and he sat beside you.

“Oh, we’re already having breakfast together now? Things are moving fast, what’s next? A fancy dinner?”

“I hate you.”

Your banter was interrupted by an aggressive knock on the door, as if someone was in a rush. Your immediate thought was that it might be one of the Winchesters, perhaps with news about the girl. Or, maybe, they had finally come to their senses and remembered the four of you were working together, since they have been MIA for the whole previous day.

Sharing a glance with Bucky, you could tell he was thinking along the same lines. Rising from the couch, you moved to open the door. “Dean, I swear to fuck-” Your words died in your mouth as the door swung open, revealing Cassandra on the other side.

She was visibly trembling, her eye makeup smudged from tears all over her cheeks. Still dressed in the same dirty clothes you had found her in, she clung to you almost immediately after the door opened.

“I was kidnapped, please let me in.” She pleaded, her voice breaking. “Please, let me in. Four men kept me locked in a room for a day.” She cried out.

Bucky was at your side in less than a second as soon as he realized what was happening, reacting faster than you as he shoved you both back inside before anyone in the neighborhood could hear. If they called the police you could have gotten in trouble, Avengers or not.

Cassandra lay on the floor, tears streaming down her face, while you and Bucky exchanged bewildered glances, each lost in thought on how to proceed from there and time seemed to stay still. With a heavy sigh, you ran a hand over your face before kneeling in front of her, Bucky’s gaze hovering over you. He was clearly pissed, as you had noticed, probably at Sam and Dean for leaving Cassandra unattended or, even worse, locked away alone.

It was nothing but a miracle that Cassandra had found her way to your door and not anyone else’s or that would have been a catastrophic failure since this girl was the last hope you had.

“Cassandra?” You began, you voice as gentle as you could muster. “My name is Emma, and this is my friend Bucky. We’re Avengers, you’re safe here.”

At the mention of the team, Cassandra’s lower lip quivered and she instinctively moved closer to you seeking refuge. There was fear in her eyes as she clutched your wrist tightly with her cold, shaky hand, her vulnerability palpable in the air. “Avengers?” She repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze darting between you and Bucky.

You nodded reassuringly, maintaining your soothing tone as you confirmed your words. “Yes, Avengers.”

The tremor in her grip eased slightly as she visibly relaxed, but it wasn’t enough for her to stop trembling.

Cassandra moved her brown eyes from you to him, studying his features briefly before the color drained from her face. “The Winter Soldier.” She gasped, as if she had just seen a ghost. “He’s- he’s with them- he’s with Hydra. I don’t want to go back there, please don’t hurt us.” She rambled, trying to pull you away from Bucky despite still being on the floor. “He’s a murderer.”

You unfortunately didn’t miss the flash of hurt that crossed Bucky’s face before he immediately masked it with a neutral expression and stood up. “Take care of her until she’s feeling better. Call me when she calms down.” He said, his voice empty of any emotion, as he made his way out of the house.

“Bucky, wait-” But your words lingered in the air as he shut the door behind him.

You inhaled deeply as the house fell silent, feeling Cassandra’s wary eyes on you. You couldn’t blame her for being frightened, given what they must have told her or did to her wherever she was kept - it was a natural response.

Setting aside what she had said to Bucky, you mentally noted to talk with him later. Holding her hand, you tried to comfort her through the touch. “Come with me, it’s okay.” You said gently, helping her up from the ground.

She glanced around, likely searching for any other potential threats, and relaxing when she realized you two were left alone. “Thank you.” She mumbled, her voice still hoarse. “Why was he here?”

“Bucky? Well, he’s a good guy and he was helping me find you.” You explained.

She vigorously shook her head, disagreeing with your explanation. “He’s an assassin. Do you know how many people he killed? Hydra wants him back so he can continue the job, they didn’t talk about anything else… he’s dangerous, and he will bring me back there. I don’t wanna go.” She pleaded again, her voice trembled as tears threatened to escape once more.

“No one is going to take you back there, alright?” You reassured her, placing a comforting hand on her forearm sensing that physical touch brought her solace. “You’re safe here, with us. Go sit on the couch, okay?” You offered her a smile, which she returned as she obeyed your instruction.

While she made her way to the couch, you hurried over to the windows to close the curtains, ensuring that no one saw her there before joining her. You noticed the red marks on her wrists from the rope Malcom had used to tie her up, and you knew from experience how much they must be burning. However, you had nothing to treat her wounds with, so you didn’t offer.

“Do you want something to drink?” You asked.

She shook her head. “No. I want my mum.” She said, nervously passing both her hands over her dirty jeans.

You forced a smile at her request, unable to tell her the truth about her mother’s absence. “What’s the last thing you remember, Cassandra?” You inquired.

She blinked a few times, taken aback by the sudden question. “Please, call me Cassie.” She requested before continuing. “I remember a dark place. The trunk of a car, Malcom’s car. He put me in there when he heard two people breaking into his house… he locked me up and ran away, and then I woke up in a room inside those four men’s house.” She explained, her breath shaking with each word.

“The people next door are friends of mine.” You informed her. “We brought you here after I found you in that car.”

She frowned. “They kept me inside for a day, I woke up hours ago.” She told you, her voice trembling.

You clenched your jaw at the realization. You had trusted Sam and Dean with her safety, only to discover they left her completely alone, scared, and traumatized while they argued amongst themselves. Fighting to keep your raising anger in check, you spoke softly. “They’re… not exactly the best at… listen, it was my mistake for trusting them with you, I’m sorry. Did they hurt you?”

“No, they didn’t.” She confirmed, much to your relief. “But they didn’t allow me to leave. I had to use the bedsheets to escape from the window.”

You sighed, nodding. “You said four men? Not two?” You asked, suddenly remembering that detail.

“Four men and a woman.” She confirmed. “I heard them through the door. They were talking about strange things, dead bodies… demons.” She scratched her forehead, her lower lip trembling once more. “I just want to go home. Did you call the police? They must have been searching for me.”

“I know you want to go home, and you will in time. But, Cassie, you’ve been kidnapped by Hydra. You know that, right? The police… they’re useless.” You explained, trying to maintain a comforting tone.

She nodded, understanding the gravity of your words. Traumatized, yes, but not an idiot, she was still able to piece things together. “I know.” She said, her voice barely udibile. “He hurt her, didn’t he?”

You remained silent, trying to grasp what she was referring to. “Who?”

“My father.” She answered. “He hurt my mother, didn’t he? He said he would if she kept interfering with the atrocities he was doing with Mrs White.”

Your heart stopped at the mention of her name, and you felt your entire body go numb. It had been a long time since you heard that name uttered by someone who likely knew her, and you despised the grip she still had on you. Especially now, with the confirmation that she was still live.

Your hands trembled, but you clenched them together tightly, hiding them between your knees to conceal your weakness. “Mrs White? What’s-” You cleared your throat, trying to dispel the knot that prevented you from speaking clearly. “How do you know about her?” It felt like a stupid question, but your mind was suddenly clouded.

Cassandra looked away at that, her gaze distant. “I was left on my mom’s doorstep by my biological mother when my father cheated. I always knew I was adopted, she never hid that from me and still raised me as hers.” She explained referring to Mrs Miller, passing a hand over her lower lip before continuing. “I always wondered who my biological parents were, and when Dad came back into our lives I was enthusiastic - I couldn’t hate him, and believe me I tried. Even knowing how much pain he put my mom through… he was still my father, you know?”

“Of course.” You replied, though your own experience with fathers was nonexistent. However, that wasn’t the time to bring it up.

“And so, Mom took him back and we started to build a relationship from scratch. He took me to dance practice and was even there for my 18th birthday. It was as if we had never spent almost twenty years apart. Until one day, I found out he was texting the person who gave birth to me.” She continued, a hint of anger flashing across her features simply at the thought of this person.

She was telling you nothing more that a detailed version of what you already knew, but you were curious to see where this conversation was headed.

“I found out completely by accident, and when I asked who it was he didn’t even hide it from me. I didn’t want him to hurt my mother again, and… and I told him to stop texting her. I told him he had to leave her in the past. I mean, I did want to know who she was, desperately, but I knew my mom would be devastated. So, I just opted to forget about her but my father had other ideas. I started to dig into his past life, and I found out everything about Mrs White. I found out about Hydra and the experiments they did to people.” She explained, a tear rolling down her cheek, which she quickly wiped away. “I can’t believe my mother would agree to ever do things like that. What kind of monster is capable of such things?”

“Cassie, what does your mother have anything to do with Hydra?” You asked, frowning.

Her eyes met yours as she spoke. “Mrs White is my mother. My biological mother and nothing more.”

Time seemed to stand still. Her features were too familiar now that you were seeing her up close, but never in a million years would you have thought that was the reason why. The person in front of you was the daughter of the woman that had ruined your life, and instinctively, your body jerked aside to put some distance between you. You didn’t mean to do it, but you did nothing to fix it even when you saw the confusion in her eyes.

“How do you know about Mrs White?” She asked and it was your turn to look away.

You weren’t used to this rush of emotions coming out all at once, and you found it hard to maintain a stoic face as the main subject of the conversation was the woman who had made you kill people for a living ever since you were born.

“Long story.” You just answered, unable to utter anything else.

“I’m sorry.” She said sincerely, taking your hand in hers.

You looked down at her hand, but the gesture did nothing to comfort you. In that moment, hardly anything could. “William Barlow mentioned you found out she had another daughter. What can you tell me about her?”

Cassie seemed taken aback by what you said but quickly composed herself. “I didn’t know Will knew about it.” She confessed. “But he is right. Ella White abandoned me while she apparently took care of this other daughter of hers, my half sister, while I’ve been wondering what I did wrong to be left on a doorstep.” She let out a dry chuckle and spat out her mother’s name as if it were venom.

“Do you know who this girl is?”

She nodded. “I do. Turns out she abandoned her too at some point. Apparently, old habits die hard. She has a good life now.” She said with a sad smile. “But at least she got to know her.”

“Not that it was a great pleasure if you ask me.” You couldn’t help but spit out.

“No, it wasn’t.” She chuckled sadly.

You nodded at her words, your mind flooded with thoughts about the woman who would haunt you for the rest of your life. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that, not when you had someone to take care of. It was the least you could do.

“Do you want to take a shower? Relax a bit?” You offered, squeezing her hand that was still in yours.

“Yes, I’d like that.” She replied.

“Great.”

While Cassie took a well deserved shower, you decided to find Bucky - wherever he had gone off to. Once the girl locked the bathroom door, you made your way downstairs finally having a moment to think properly. And, truth be said, your thoughts were anything but kind; Dean and Sam Winchester would be begging for their lives in the next couple of minutes.

Maybe that was a bit dramatic, but they had managed to rub you the wrong way. How could anyone be so inconsiderate as to leave a girl who had been kidnapped alone?

As you opened the front door, your face almost collided with someone’s chest. You looked up slightly and saw Dean standing there, his hand raised as if about to knock, nervously smiling at you. Sam stood a few feet behind him, and while he clearly looked pissed, his expression was more like that of a kicked puppy.

“Sweetheart.” Dean began lightly, spreading his arms as if to greet you. “You look good, did you do something to your hair?”

You would have stabbed him if you had a knife in your hands, but it wasn’t your lucky day. “Cut the bullshit.” You snapped.

Dean’s smile faltered, and he glanced over his shoulder at his brother, who made a face that clearly said ‘deal with it’. Dean turned back to you, attempting to regain his composure.

“Can I come in, maybe?” He asked, gesturing inside.

In response, you leaned against the doorframe as to block his way, tilting your head to the side. You weren’t going to entertain his nonsense, he needed to give you an explanation and you weren’t in the mood to play along.

“You better start talking now, Dean, because this isn’t something to joke about.” You warned him.

His shoulders slumped, knowing his intentions of keeping Cassandra’s escape a secret were now in the toilet. His smile vanished, replaced by a serious expression; he looked down at his feet for a moment, before his green eyes found yours again.

“Is she okay?” He asked, assuming that Cassandra must have been found by you given how angry you were. And he didn’t think you were overreacting, it was only fair.

You scoffed. “Now you care? She came in here sobbing, Dean, and thanks to whoever the fuck is up there that she came here and didn’t go around alarming the whole neighborhood! What did you have in mind?! Play Malcom two point zero?!” Your tone was sharp, even if you weren’t outright yelling.

“Of course not!” He denied, clearly and truly offended by your insinuation. “I should have handled it better, alright? I know that. But I was busy trying to to find out more about the patient Cassandra was treating, and I found something interesting.”

“I don’t give a shit about what you found; she was your priority!” You shot back. Although you knew that whatever he found was probably important, but you could bring yourself to care. “And who were you with? You’re not supposed to involve anyone else, did you forget that?”

For a moment, you saw surprise flicker across his face, like a deer caught in headlights. Maybe you weren’t supposed to know that given the look he gave you, but he quickly composed himself. “That’s my business.” He said a little too defensively. “And I have everything under control.”

“Where are you going? I’m not done.” You said the moment he turned around and grabbed his brother by the forearm just to stark walking back to his damn car. “Dean?!”

You stood there, dumbfounded by what had just happened. In the short time you’d known him, you’d never seen Dean this dismissive and it made you question whether Fury had made a mistake by choosing them for this mission. It was clear the Winchester brothers preferred to work alone together and weren’t used to be a part of a team.

And if you weren’t so blinded by anger, you might have noticed a third, unknown man wearing a beige trench coat in the backseat of their car as they drove away.

.

[nathandrakeisabottom]

When Sunlight Hits : Nathan Drake x Reader

Summary: After the events of a more-than-fortunate sleeping bag situation, you and Nate play chicken to decide whether or not your twin confessions the night before were in the heat of the moment... or exist even brighter in broad daylight. Warning: None! Just some fluffy quick-fic goodness! Reader is briefly implied to be blonde/redhead/etc. with brown/hazel eyes due to the specific dialogue some unrelated freakazoid wrote. Feel free to disregard.

Your first time. Your first time back. You almost can’t believe it.

You’re wearing a dress. He’s wearing a suit. And the drinks you both hold are only to soften the brutality that follows. For one brief hour, you two find the will to believe you deserve to soften, deserve to meet your worlds intertwined in the middle. Where danger becomes mundane, and where danger is born from the mundane. 

Born in a ballroom in Italy. 

“You havin’ a good time?” Nathan smiles with teeth, grip leveraging up to mindlessly swirl his glass of whiskey. It’s three quarters of the way gone, but that doesn’t near out-do your double drag of lemon drop. Or maybe he’s just better at holding it than you are.

“It’s alright.” You match his grin with your own, blood beating with the drum and twirl of alcohol, heart palpitating to be so close to him. He doesn’t move his arm when your elbows bump on a lean over the balcony. He smells like vanilla sandalwood and aftershave. Overwhelming. Perfect. “A bit disappointed I haven’t bagged any hotties yet.”

He laughs full and open— and your heart takes a breathtaking nosedive. “Well, there’s still time.”

His body leans further over the railing, eyes scanning through the stripes of jade, ruby, sapphire, amethyst, black silk-covered crowd, eagle-eyeing for a win. “Anyone your type?” 

And maybe it’s just the liquor that does it, cheeks flushed and making the whole room spin warm and possible, that makes you spitball a death-defying risk.

“...Sam’s single, isn’t he?” 

You take a half-glance over the rim of your glass on another sip. And Nathan’s eyes bug in some reaction you can’t quite decipher. Your heartbeat thunders for his reply.

“S-Sam?! Are you kidding me?” His mouth falters for a fallen grin, or maybe he’s just swallowing back upchuck. No self-respecting man would give the go-ahead for a friend to jump the bones of his potential crack-head older brother. “Please tell me you're joking.”

“And what if I wasn’t?” 

You trail, slinking up onto a nearby pub table bathed in white linen, ankle crossing over ankle. You play coy so you can ignore the way your hands start to sweat. But the alcohol, the flabbergasted way he looks at you makes it easy to forget.

“Nah… nah, I don’t see it.” 

And Nate leaves it at that before swigging back and emptying the last of his glass. A pathetically reasonless answer. But you need more.

Please.

Oh god please, you need more. 

“Why not?” The next gulp makes your thoughts warp. You’re far from sober, even farther from thirst, but your body does what is necessary for your growing fight or flight. You don’t even know the person who asks with such mystique. 

He says nothing, only tips back his head for the backwash remnants of a drink that no longer exists. 

“What kind of person do you think would be better?” You’re putting your life on the line when you ask it, balancing precarious upon a tightrope as wonderfully garish tulle collects sweat between your chest, between your thighs, beneath your fucking pits. There is no escape from what his presence does to your body, to your barely beating heart. What his answer could possibly incite next. 

“Better? Well, uh…” 

But maybe it doesn’t really matter. 

“Blonde or Brunette?” You swing back to standing when he’s pulled back abash from speech, palms swaying just barely against your laying skirt. You hope he likes the dress you picked. 

You know you do.

“What does that matter?”

“Just curious what you think.”

“Well, brunette would… pair better, I guess.” His reply warbles uncomfortable at the edges, reluctantly sets his glass down when no reason to hold presents itself. And you’d be dumb to not notice the way he eyes your dress— wishing with all your heart that he was eyeing you— sinking into bombastic, glaring hues for example. “I know you like color contrast.”

You hover on closer to him. It’s everything your body chooses without you.

“I–- I don’t know! Whatever you like best is fine, I’m sure.” His breath barely breaches past withholding hysteria. Downstairs: glasses clink, a gentle jazz thrums through the echoing space, rich crimson reds of parted, velvet curtains, satin cloth magnetizing to a triple dozen wealthy socialites’ curves, dips, hips, tricks. 

And yet his eyes are only on you, cloudy over and gorgeous sky, before they pull back once again. Shrugging shoulders do little to hide his timidity. It’s a way you never see him when Sam and Sully are around. It’s the way he is when your heart plucks over his safe, beautiful, gentlemanly visage and fawns. 

“Blue eyes?” And now textile has been added for sight, fingers carefully moving over the soft polyester of his suit, a touch you would never have the courage to give without the booze. The music. The dress. The solitude. “For the contrast?”

“Heh, I guess that makes sense.” His chest stutters for inhale as his warmth meets yours, quirking sideways smiles you want to taste and grin against and give love to. “Whatever you like.” 

You slide your palm across his back, nestle, thumb over where his shoulder blades sit. The places on his body you want to wring the pain out of. He takes a less than steady inhale. Form forced to turn towards it. And his eyes speak such tender shyness into yours.

You love him.

You want to tell him in the places he might actually believe you.

“How about someone sweet? Boy— man— next door type?” His eyes drop bashfully at the closeness, lips still quirking in that petal-soft grin. “Someone who will be good and gentle with me. That’s what I like.”

Your fingers brave farther, farther, farther, and the wool polyester translates into starch cotton and the big band below is playing smooth jazz you’d have to be an idiot to not think is romantic and the liquor bubbles and pounds and twitters through your skin so strong that it dematerializes any pointless barrier.

And you ask:

“What do you think?”

He finally looks up at you. His lips look unbearably soft, and in any and every other instance that you’ve known him, you would’ve near thrown yourself into the sea for even daring to look. But when you look back up, he’s only looking back at yours. 

“That sounds… nice.” — Soft, dreamy, distant. Like he’s a hundred miles away and inside your very soul simultaneously.

And you’re so stupid, so fucking stupid. 

“Do you know anyone like that?” 

And he’s stupid, so fucking stupid.

And so fucking brave. 

“Maybe.”

This time, for the first time, he doesn’t speak coy words he hardly makes coy, doesn’t reach for his empty glass to combat the nerves, to fix his uneven footing. Or maybe there’s just no more space for his hands to even reach with how close you drift. His eyes are soft and gentle when he looks back up at you, cautious and bearing all that the man with a gun refuses to. 

Or maybe just never allows himself to.

“I know one.”

And that’s when you finally, finally, finally—

Fucking finally—

After all this fucking time—

In the light of a full moon and a marble-sheened dance floor, outside the world of dreams, outside of secrets held in warm sleeping bags and claustrophobic caves and all the life you didn't live until you found each other, finally, finally, within your sunlit, unashamed reality—

You meet him into a kiss.

[spidey-x-male-reader]

Pls do spot with a non-binary spider reader who not only thinks he and his abilities are cool, but teaches him how to properly use them. Pls I have so much brains of for this man I'LL TAKE EVEN THE TINIEST CRUMB JUST PLS🙏🙏

Pairing: The Spot x nonbinary!reader

Warnings: ///

A/N: God I was really trying my best with this one. I hope it's alright!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

MASTERLIST

Being part of the spider society probably isn’t your dream job (mostly because you don’t get paid for some reason?) but it was fun most of the time. 

You hang out with people who understand you better than most people around you do, you have fun missions and get to kick ass. What’s better than that?

Of course there’s the occasional multiversal threat but you are great at dealing with that. And you would never get compromised because of anything…never…definitely…

“Oh my god he’s so cool” you mumble to yourself while swinging after the spot.

You were alone for the while, Jess having stayed back to do some damage control, but Miguel has clearly tasked you to catch the Spot and make sure he didn’t do anything dangerous. But currently you are way too focused on how cool the guy looks to think about catching him.

“Hey! Can I ask a question?” you ask while swinging next to him.

“Wha– I guess?” He seems more confused than anything. As much as you can judge from…his non-existent facial features.

“Do your powers have some kind of limit of distance or could you like…go to Italy right now if you wanted?”

“I–” he stops moving and stays standing on a rooftop. “That’s a good question actually.”

You stop standing next to him, carefully touching his shoulder. It feels pretty normal. You imagined something else.

“...aren’t you going to arrest me or something?”

“I’ll think about it when my boss starts paying me.” you shrug. “My name is (y/n) by the way.” you hold your hand out to him. Ah yes. Telling your secret identity to the guy you’re supposed to be hunting. Miguel would give you the most disapproving glare if he saw you right now. 

“The spot.” he shakes your hand. “But…I guess Jonathan if we go by first names” this was probably the weirdest interaction you had all week…or the second weirdest.

“So…tell me more about your powers. How do they work?”

“What? So you can make fun of them?”

“Fun? Are you kidding? This is like…the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. And I saw a guy that turned into a giant rhino. And that’s pretty cool. But those powers are like…” you look up to (were you guess) his face is. ��...absolutely incredible. They’re beautiful.”

“Well that’s the first time someone says that…usually they tend to make fun of it or just…the way I look.”

“What’s wrong about the way you look?” you frown, looking at him. “Sure…it’s a bit weird to not have a face to look at but I think we can work with that.”

He doesn’t say something for a few seconds, just studying you silently. “Thank you” he eventually says.

You want to say something when your communicator blinks as you hear Jessica’s voice out of it. “(y/n)? Have you caught the spot?”

You look up at him for a moment. “...no. I lost him. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Meet me at the meet up point. We’re going to have to think about a new strategy.”

“Of course. I’ll be there in a few minutes. I’ll check the territory once more.” you say before hanging up. “I do not like lying to Jess.”

“Why…did you lie?”

“I didn’t see the reason for turning you in.” you smile at him. “And…you know. Maybe I can help you if you need some more help with your powers. I mean I’m not an expert at portals and stuff but I’m good…positive affirmation.” you grin at him before stepping to the edge of the building.

“How am I…going to find you for that?” he asks, taking a step towards you again.

You turn back to him again. “Don’t worry. I’ll be the one finding you.” you grin and let yourself fall off the building backwards.

That looked cool, right?

You are hoping it looked cool.

And you’re trying to do your best to not think about the fact that you wanted to impress the new villain.

….that was okay….right?

[rileyslibrary]

Living With Ghosts: 6. Hurt

He seemed more accustomed to surviving than living—as if the military had adopted and raised him to be the man he is today.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,155

Notes:

Warnings: Mentions of blood and physical injury (gunshot wound)

Pure angst

That’s a sable. :)

Entire work on AO3

Table of Contents

———————————————————————

“Mating season is upon us; do not feed the sable—I repeat: Do NOT feed the sable. Over.”

That was Laswell’s last message to all the safe houses across Italy a couple of weeks ago.

“Sable” was Makarov’s code name—an odd choice for a criminal of his calibre since sables are cute and furry. Although you were unaware of his manscaping habits to argue the “furry” aspect, you knew that Makarov was anything but “cute.”

Mating season is upon us. Makarov was on the loose and closer than ever. Operators were sleeping with one eye open if they ever got the chance to do so. The job should be over soon.

Do not feed the sable. That meant one thing: under no circumstances should you blow your cover. Instead, you must keep a low profile and follow a consistent routine until further notice.

That’s what you’ve been doing for the past two weeks. You kept imitating a farmer harvesting lemons while monitoring unusual traffic in secrecy. Meanwhile, Ghost was helping you in the morning and leaving at nightfall to “take care of things.”

Everything seems to be going well so far—A little too well, perhaps. 

Call it a “gut feeling,” an “intuition,” or a “sense of impending doom.” Whatever it was, it felt eerie and lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

As weird as it sounds, Makarov wasn’t your primary concern, as he’ll soon get what he deserves. “The life of a war criminal is as profitable as it is short,” you recall Ghost muttering while cleaning his gun.

It was him who you were most worried about—his physical and mental well-being appeared to be in distress lately.

Every morning, you would catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye while he was helping you. New rips would appear on his clothes overnight, some mended, others beyond repair. “I walked through some shrubs” was his most common excuse. Shrubs don’t cause such damage; knives, on the other hand, are perfectly capable of doing so. 

His left shoulder hardly moved while helping you out, so he relied solely on his right one. He also walked with a limp, which worsened every time he carried heavy crates up to the house. 

He was doing everything he could to take care of himself, but there’s only so much a man can take. Soon, his wounds would be too deep to heal.

You assumed he had a difficult upbringing. You’d never dare ask about his personal life, family, or friends if he had any—but it seemed that he raised himself.

He was overly precise with how he placed each piece of garment on the clothesline. He often left you wondering how he turned chores such as washing dishes into a tactical mission. Even wearing his boots and tucking his trousers inside them seemed too…strategic. 

No parent would teach their son to be so meticulous with these mundane tasks. No child would have the discipline to follow such rigid and strict rules. He seemed more accustomed to surviving than living—as if the military had adopted and raised him to be the man he is today.

Then again, you could see the light in him. It was dim and barely noticeable, but it’d fall through the cracks sometimes. Whenever he’d make you laugh, for example, a speck of light would appear, softening his tough exterior. He seemed more human with each suppressed chuckle he let out as you danced around in victory for nailing a new recipe.

Shit, the recipe—where were you? Ah, yes! The salt. 

It’s impressive how cooking can stimulate such extraordinary levels of introspection. 

Look at you: preparing dinner and analysing an operator’s emotional trauma while a war criminal is on the loose.

The back door swings open—he’s back; the knives and bullets rattling on his tactical vest give him away. Yet they sound different; they reveal a sense of urgency.

You turn to greet him, but he dashes for the stairs.

You catch a glimpse of something on the floor.

Droplets of thick, black liquid shine against the floor, leaving a trail that leads to the stairs.

You take a closer look—it’s not black. It’s crimson. 

He is bleeding.

You sprint to the staircase, climbing two or even three steps simultaneously. Your hands are gripping the rails, pulling yourself up as if that would make you go faster.

He’s running for his room, clutching his left shoulder.

You grab a strap from the back of his vest, but he yanks your hand off and pushes you away, causing you to fall to the ground.

You get up just as he enters his room, but he shuts the door and locks you out.

“How bad is it?” You ask with your hands on the door, trying to reach him through the thick wooden panel.

No answer.

“Let me see—I can help.” You command.

Still no answer.

“FUCK! Answer me, God damn it, yell at me, show me you’re alive!”

Nothing.

There are faint sounds of objects falling to the floor, boxes opening with force, and furniture being pushed around. You sit on the ground with your back against the door.

You bring your legs close to your chest and hug them, your forehead resting on your knees. 

This can’t be happening. It’s a fever dream that’ll soon be over. Simon cannot be in danger; How can he? He is invincible. He just walked through some shrubs, that’s all.

You try to concentrate on sounds, noises, grunts—anything to indicate that he’s working on it.

Focus, try to focus.

He’s fiddling with something—he’s unscrewing a bottle, its contents spilling on the floor. It must be alcohol—he is treating a gunshot wound.

“Are you shot?”

“Shut up for a bloody second, will you?”

He can talk—that’s a good thing. Right?

“What happ-”

“Ya fuck-I said to be quiet.”

You can hear quick, short gasps of air—his breathing becomes more audible with each inhale. He’s about to pry the bullet out.

You close your ears and shut your eyes, trying to block the screams. It’s pointless.

He sounds like an animal being hanged upside down to be slaughtered, screaming in agony.

You can’t help him, but you have to bear it. Bear his screams, his swearing, his pain.

Feeling helpless and useless yourself, you resort to praying. “An atheist until the plane starts falling,” they say. God must be having a laugh looking down at you right now.

The cries stop. You sit up straight, listening closely for any signs of life.

There’s a clink—it’s the bullet hitting the floor.

His breathing gradually returns to normal, his movements getting more controlled and graceful than earlier. He must be patching up his wound now.

“I’m still here.” You mutter.

“Thanks,” he replies.

He’s not okay yet, but he will be. He better be.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“You need to pack your things; our cover is blown.”

———————————————————————

Next ->

[lol-jackles]

Would doing a cameo or guest spot on the Boys hurt Jared's branding? We found out today that Kripke seems to be tweeting him a lot, and I don't think it's about the revival from what Jared said about working out. For me it wouldn't be so much about nudity as my trust in his choices for projects in the future. Right now, I trusted him to watch a cowboy show of all things and loved the family vibe. But after an X rated gig, maybe not so much. Do agents and managers consider things like that or not

It's not the cameo or guest spot that is the issue per se, after all Charlize Theron had a funny cameo as an actress portraying one of the supes in a movie within a movie, and all lead actors do guest spots between their main projects. 

There's main three things going on.  First, Kripke is indulging in some of his worst impulses.  He knows Amazon will censor out the graphic sexual and violent scenes, but it won't stop him from filming them for his own titillations. 

Second, unsympathetic roles never help anyone's career. Just look at how much Misha disavowed Karla with excuses that he "didn't know" it was based on true events. Back then Misha was a struggling actor who accepted work whenever he can. The reason why Jared said he would like to play "thinking man villain" is because those type of villains are usually right in their thinking; they're just wrong in how they try to achieve their goal.

Third, if the guest role is an unsympathetic villain that gets killed by the good guys, then it goes against the upward trajectory of Jared's career. If you've seen the movie Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, there is a scene between Al Pacino and Leonardo di Caprio that explains this.  Pacino plays a director to Caprio's Rick Dalton who is a fading lead tv star known for playing a heroic character name Jake Cahill on Western series, now is guest starring as bad guys in Western series.  Rick has been offered a lead role in Italy's spaghetti Western movies that he's unsure of accepting.

Marvin Schwarz: You… You always play the bad guy on these (American) shows?

Rick Dalton: Yeah.

Marvin Schwarz: So, and they have a fight scene at the end of them?

Rick Dalton: Well, not… not… not Land of the Giants or F.B.I… but the rest, yeah. Yeah.

Marvin Schwarz: you lose in the fight?

Rick Dalton: Yeah. Yeah, of course.  I’m… I’m the heavy.

Marvin Schwarz: Oooh, That’s an old trick pulled by the networks.

Rick Dalton: *stunned*

Marvin Schwarz: Now, you take (new character) Bingo Martin, for example. Right?  So you got a new guy (actor) like Scott Brown.  You wanna build up his bona fides, right?  So you hire a guy from a canceled show to play the heavy.   Then at the end of the show, when they fight, it’s hero besting heavy.  But what the audience sees… is Bingo Martin whipping Jake Cahill’s ass.

Rick Dalton: *taking it all in*

Marvin Schwarz: You see?  Then next week, it’s Ron Ely.  And next week, it’s Bob Conrad, wearing his tight pants, kicking your ass.

Rick Dalton (in a bit of denial): Yeah.

Marvin Schwarz: Now, in another couple of years, playing punching bag to every swinging dick new to the network, that’s gonna have a psychological effect… on how the audience perceives you.

Rick Dalton: Right.

Marvin Schwarz: So Rick, who’s gonna kick the shit out of you next week? Mannix? The Man from U.N.C.L.E.? The Girl from U.N.C.L.E.? How about Batman and Robin? Ping! Pow! Choom! Zoom! Down goes you, down goes your career as a leading man.

Rick Dalton: *silence*

Marvin Schwarz: Or do you go to Rome and star in Westerns… and win fucking fights?  Ticket, señor?

Cliff Booth (played by Brad Pitt): All right....... What’s the matter, partner?

Rick Dalton: Well… it’s official, old buddy. I’m a has-been.

Cliff Booth: What are you talking about?  What did that guy tell you?

Rick Dalton: He told me the goddamn truth, is what he told me.

Ever wonder why most action stars like Dwayne the Rock Johnson have in their contract that their characters never lose fights on screen? Because they don't want to even give audience the chance to have a subconscious idea that they're not lead stars.

[upslapmeal]

Notes from the Taskmaster S15E04 recording

I got to see this episode filmed back in September (if you were there hello from the person Mark Olver kept quizzing lol, and important question: do you have an airing cupboard?) and thought I'd make a post with some Bonus Content from the recording. Last time I did this I realised I'd forgotten loads so this time I got home, sat down, diligently made notes for until the end of the prize task, and decided to do the rest the next day. I did not do the rest. So we'll just have to see how well my memory holds up 😅

The version of Greg's aeroplane-themed intro was an alternative version filmed at the end - the original had the reveal that THEY'RE ALL DEAD!! and the second one was filmed "in case anyone dies in a plane"

Alex had three """""jokes"""" about his Italy trip, each one increasingly terrible. The one I made a note of was "I saw Stevie Wonder" turning into "I saw a wonder of the word". Needless to say, Greg was unimpressed.

When Greg went to Mae to introduce their prize task, their opening comment was "I’m excited to continue to explore our….dynamic"

The strength of the dynamic was then questioned when Greg was dismissive of their prize

Whatever your opinion of how Mae was scored for a later task, when Greg saw their prize on the stage at the end of the episode he said it had been underscored and it actually looked like a lot of fun

“Kiell you’ve been doing badly…it’s not your turn yet though. Frankie?"

"Jenny has always given a sob story just after presenting her prize, last episode leant heavily on her dead father" - we were told this after Jenny said she couldn't knit the hat because she had nerve damage in her hands

"I forgot to be funny then, sorry that was just sad" - Jenny

The ad buffers we saw in studio were filmed in Gatwick, and since this was before S14 aired there was a discussion about what airport it was based on the presence of an upstairs Jamie Oliver restaurant in one of them

[here ends the comprehensive notes]

I cannot stress this enough, but ANY angle or thought that you may have about Mae's throw(s) (or lack thereof) came up in the studio

I can't remember what ended up swinging (heh) it in their favour but it truly felt as though it was going to go on forever

Man I wish I could remember any specifics because there was So Much, genuinely every single possible take on that attempt was thoroughly and gleefully dissected

Hearing during this episode that Ivo had won the last two was much like when I saw that Bridget was in first place during the record for S13E04 lol

Right. Banana.

I think the logic ended up being that the task said to get the 'BANANA'

And they did, in fact, get the 'BANANA'

They got the word not the object

And there was definitely a debate about what it is to be a noun, which Mae weighed in on and I think almost made Ivo explode that they had no right to after what they did with a verb

I feel like this may have been cut bc Ivo used 'she' and I imagine the editors are going for consistency, but it's a shame bc it was amazing

But it was still 'BANANA'. As stated in the task. The word it said to get was the word they got.

Do with this what you will.

During the live task, Ivo kept pouring his sand, very very slowly, after everyone else had finished and after he was told his stream had broken, until the bottle was empty.

Tragically Jenny did not wear the turkey on her head at the end, despite everyone agreeing earlier that the winner would have to.

There we go then. And the moral of the story is to actually make notes on what happened before you forget everything. And by 'you' I mean me. I swear I'll have better notes about the S16 finale.

[yantalia545]

Yandere Axis + Russia with an accidental pregnancy

Germany:

Oh man, Germany is one of the last people on earth who would want a child. Not that he doesn’t like children. It’s just that he doesn’t know the first thing about them and after years of war and suspicion of others, he’s not the most in touch with feelings. Which is why he took you in the first place.

Germany is a careful man and made sure to take all the precautionary measures he could to ensure this exact thing wouldn’t happen, but lord and behold somehow this child had managed to worm their way past them all. Either this child is persistent or fate just can’t give Germany a break

However it happened, Germany is going to hit the books like he does in any situation he doesn’t understand. No matter how many book, baby help blogs, and news letters he can find though, he just can’t sink the feeling that he won’t be a good enough father to his unborn child. 

He’ll expect the same thing from you. He’s read dozens of times over how naïve parenting is the leading cause of early death and he won’t have that happen to his child. You’ll be expected to read too. He may even sign you up for parenting lessons or get you private trainer if you’re still being house trained. 

Germany had also read the common side effects of going through a pregnancy and is well prepared for that. Ice and heat pads, supporting pillows, pregnancy safe vitamins. He’ll even satisfy any food cravings you may have just as long as you been well behaved and taking your pregnancy seriously. 

If you thought Germany was controlling before you got pregnant then think again. This man is going to literally hover over you to make sure you don’t hurt yourself or your child. He’ll even start controlling your diet to ensure that you give birth to a strong and healthy baby.

When the baby does finally come, all hell breaks loose. Germany will have a hard time adjusting to his new lifestyle of raising a child. He’s just never handled something so small and fragile before. He may have thought you were that way too and that’s why he had to take things into his own hands to protect you, but this is just a whole new level. For the first few weeks, Germany can hardly even hold his own child without thinking of every possible thing that could hurt you or his child.

I hope you enjoyed your time outside while you could because you’re not going to be having any of that for at least the next few years or so. Germany just can’t control his fear of something tremendous happening to the either of you so he’s taking every precaution he can. Heightened security, baby proofing everything in the house, and him only working from home being just a few of the things he’s changed.

The two of you are now his whole world now. Can’t you see that he’s only doing these things because of how much he loves the two of you?

Italy:

Very sneaky this one. He may or may not have either poked a hole in the condom or purposely forgot to put one on the last few times he’s did the deed with you. 

He just can’t help it! He just wanted a little bambina so badly and you kept saying no, so what else could he do! Not even his puppy eyes and hours of dragging you through baby stores would change your mind. How could you not see that tiny human clothes are just so dang cute!?

When you found out about his sneaky deed you were very upset, but it was nothing a little, okay few hours, of forced snuggling couldn’t fix. It may have taken quite a few of those. Italy did start to cry when you started to yell at him, but he would never do anything to hurt you. 

Italy was never one to punish you even before your pregnancy so your mood swings would be dealt with hug therapy and gaslighting. How can you still be mad about it after two weeks!? Shouldn’t you be happy to have a baby?

It has to be a girl. Italy hopes and prays everyday and night of your pregnancy that your child turns out to be a girl. He was nothing more than to dress her up in cute outfits and paint the days away.

Weirdly surprising though, when his little girl does finally arrive he’s an outstanding father; Helping with feedings, changing, and calming down his fussy baby. Italy’s a pro at them all. He may or may not have gotten a lot of advice from Hungary while you were pregnant though. 

Did I mention spoiled. Italy is going to spoil the crap out of his little bambina. Dozens of adorable outfits that match the whole family or just mommy and daughter, a whole room dedicated to art and play, ice-cream before dinner when your child is old enough. There’s little to nothing that he won’t do for you and his daughter. Well, except maybe do anything without him. He just wants to join in on the fun too.

Japan:

Although he wasn’t expecting it, he will use it to his full advantage. Japan will most certainly use your child as a reason to permanently glue to him. It would be a terrible thing to separate or abandon your own child. So many children become traumatized from experiences like that. You wouldn’t want that to happen to your own child now, would you? You want to be a good mother and give your child the best life full of happiness and love.

Like Germany, Japan also doesn’t know the first thing about raising a child, but he won’t ever stop trying to be the best father and give his child someone they can look up to in life.

If you’ve been good, you may be able to use your pregnancy to your own advantage as well. More time outside, picking out your child’s necessities, even foods you’ve been dying to have. Japan would gladly give you them all in order to support a healthy pregnancy and have something to bond over.

Just don’t go thinking that more outside and public time will get you anywhere close to escaping him. With your pregnancy, Japan is going to be more inclined to watching over you and his unborn child. 

If you think he took a lot of photos in the past, then girl you don’t know what’s up cuz it only gets worse the further along you get in the pregnancy. A maternity photoshoot is a must with him. Japan wants to savor every moment he can and use any opportunity he can go get close to you.

When he holds his newborn child in his arms for the very first time, something in him just clicks. It’s like a hole inside him that he didn’t even know was there was suddenly filled. This child. A product of the both of you formed into one being. Is this...what it feels like to be a father? 

Photos. Pictures upon pictures, sketches and paintings alike will be dedicated solely on you and your child. To him, the three of you together are the most perfect moments in his life. Why would he not want to capture every moment he can in permeate ink? And you were so perfect. Watching you with his child never failed to make his heart swell. You’ve even began to open up to him like you did before your kidnapping. Was this just the thing you two needed to bring the two of you together?

Russia:

I could see Russia on both ends of the spectrum. Maybe this was on purpose, maybe it was just because this man has never heard of condoms before, unless it’s to mess with America.

Either way, Russia is going to love every moment of it as well as take advantage of it.

Now that you are bearing his child, there’s no way you can leave him now. This child is the ultimate symbol of your love for each other, so why are you crying? He’s watched you in the past with children,(Most likely without your knowledge), so he knew from the very start of it all that you would make a very fine mother. Your nurturing personality may have been what started his obsession with you in the first place. 

Russia already was the type to keep you close, so of course, that only doubles when he finds out your pregnant with his child. He wants be with you every step of the way and make sure your safe at all times. Nothing bad will ever come to you or his child. 

Speaking of which, you will begin to notice that the staffing around here has been cut tremendously. The only people you notice that are left around here are the Baltics, but don’t count on them. They’ve been wiped into shape long before you even got there of the boundaries they must abide by when around you and to alert Russia of any interactions you guys have.

Don’t get my wrong, the Baltics do feel remorse for you. In fact, their even more horrified for you when finding out about your pregnancy. Or maybe it was due to their fear of a spawn of Russia running around the place. One Russia was already terrifying enough for them, they most certainly don’t need another. 

Security was already close to nonexciting in Russia’s home. After all, no one was better suited to protect you than Russia himself. That and, Russia is easily jealous of others when it comes to you, so he was already looking for ways to minimize your interaction with others.

When your child is finally brought in the world. Russia becomes ecstatic. At last, he finally has the family he’s always dreamed of. He may even breakdown into tears Russia didn’t even know he had when holding his newborn child for the very first time. 

Anything and Everything he does will always involve you and his child. The world outside is cold and harsh, but inside, it’s warmed by the love you all share for each other. At least in Russia’s demented mind. So why would anyone ever want to run or hide away. 

Although, I can’t shake the feeling of how amusing Russia will find it to beat the Baltics for making his child cry. Even if it was because they took away something that could potentially hurt the child. In Russia’s mind, they made one of his most precious possessions cry and now they must be punished! ^J^

He’ll stand over their beaten forms with his trusty metal pipe in one hand and his giggling child in the other. The way they clap their hands and laugh hysterically at their father’s work is more than enough to make Russia smile for the rest of the day. Much to yours and the Baltics horror.

[eurovision-song-bracket]

Welcome to the Eurovision Song Bracket!

This will be a fairly large bracket, consisting of two "teams" of 68 songs for a total of 136 competitors!

The first team has been preselected, and will consist of all previous winners or popular vote winners if applicable.

This means that if your favorite song won, you do not need to submit them (a couple of exceptions apply, see list at the bottom/read more for details)

Submissions are closed!

Rules!

- Entries must have been a part of the main competition of Eurovision of any year (I might do a MGP mini bracket if the people want that)

- Once again, you do not need to submit winners, they are (mostly) automatically in. Again, see bottom for details and explanations.

- You may submit multiple songs, but please don't send the same song over and over.

- Propaganda is highly encouraged! There is a spot for it in the submission form, and adding it on to the poll itself or sending an ask is also allowed. You may send a DM, but I'll probably be slow to respond that way.

How it Works!

- There will be multiple brackets of 34 songs

- Each of the preselected winners will be randomly against one of the submitted songs. Pairings will be decided through number assignment and a random number generator.

- Vote for your favorite! I will include links to the songs in the poll so you can listen to both before voting. The winner will move onto the next round until we find the winner of that bracket.

- Once all brackets are complete, the winners of their individual brackets will go onto the finals to determine the (unofficial) Ultimate Eurovision Song Winner!

- There will be a preliminary around, as 1969 (hehe nice) had a four way tie, so we will need to determine which of those four will represent that year!

Tagging some other brackets to get the word out

@animalcrossingshowdown @ultimate-soup-showdown @least-sexy-man-competition @soulmatebracket @irlcats-bracket @little-cat-showdown @bestvegetablepoll @baby-brawl-bracket @died-but-not-dead-tournament @unusannusbracket

Click the read more for the list of songs that are automatically in the bracket!

(The colors are just to make it less of a wall of text and easier to read)

(Please let me know if a different color would work better)

1956 - “Refrain” by Lys Assia (Switzerland)

1957 - “Net Als Toen” by Corry Brokken (Netherlands)

1958 - “Dors, Mon Amour” by André Claveau (France)

1959 - “Een Beetje” by Teddy Scholten (Netherlands)

1960 - “Tom Pillibi” by Jacqueline Boyer (France)

1961 - “Nous Les Amoureux” by Jean-Claude Pascal (Luxembourg) 1962 - “Un Premier Amour” by Isabelle Aubret” (France)

1963 - “Dansevise” by Grethe and Jøren Ingmann (Denmark)

1964 - “Non ho l'età” by Gigliola Cinquetti (Italy)

1965 - “Poupée de cire, poupée de son” by France Gall (Luxembourg) 1966 - “Merci, Chérie” by Udo Jürgens (Austria)

1967 - “Puppet on a String” by Sandie Shaw (UK)

1968 - “La la la” by Massiel (Spain)

1969 – [FOUR WAY TIE – SPAIN UK NETHERLANDS FRANCE, PRELIM POLL] “Vivo Cantando” by Salomé (Spain) ; “Boom Bang-a-Bang” by Lulu (UK) ; “De Troubadour” by Lenny Kuhr (Netherlands) ; “Un jour, un enfant” by Frida Bocara (France)

1970 - “All Kinds of Everything” by Dana (Ireland)

1971 - “Un banc, un arbre, une rue” by Séverine (Monaco)

1972 - “Après Toi” by Vicky Leandros (Luxembourg)

1973 - “Tu te reconnaîtras” by Anne-Marie David (Luxembourg)

1974 - “Waterloo” by ABBA (Sweden)

1975 - “Ding a Dong” by Teach-in (Netherlands)

1976 - “Save Your Kisses For Me” by Brotherhood of Man (UK)

1977 - “L'Oiseau et l'Enfant” by Marie Myriam (France)

1978 - “א-ב-ני-בי / A-Ba-Ni-Bi” by Izhar Cohen and the Alphabeta (Israel)

1979 - “הללויה /Hellelujah” by Milk and Honey (Israel)

1980 - “What's Another Year” by Johnny Logan (Ireland)

1981 - “Making Your Minds Up” by Bucks Fizz (UK)

1982 - “Ein bißchen Frieden” by Nicole (Germany)

1983 -Si la vie est cadeau” by Corinne Hermès (Luxembourg)

1984 - “Diggi-Loo Diggi-Ley” by Herreys (Sweden)

1985 - “La det swinge” By Bobbysocks! (Norway)

1986 - “J'aime la vie” by Sandra Kim (Belgium)

1987 – “Laß die Sonne in dein Herz“ by Wind (Germany) [REPEAT WIN BY JOHNNY LOGAN(Ireland), USING 2ND PLACE]

1988 - “Ne partez pas sans moi” Céline Dion (Switzerland)

1989 - “Rock Me” by Riva (Yugoslavia)

1990 - “Insieme: 1992” by Toto Cutugno (Italy)

1991 – “Fångad av en stormvind” by Carola (Sweden)

1992 - “Why Me?” by Linda Martin (Ireland)

1993 - “In Your Eyes” Niamh Kavanagh (Ireland)

1994 - “Rock 'n' Roll Kids” Paul Harrington and Charlie McGettigan (Ireland)

1995 - “Nocturne” by Secret Garden (Norway)

1996 - “The Voice” by Eimear Quinn (Ireland)

1997 - “Love shine a Light” by Katrina and the Waves (UK)

1998 - “דיווה /Diva” by Dana International (Israel)

1999 - “Take Me to Your Heaven” by Charlotte Nilsson (Sweden)

2000 - “Fly on the Wings of Love” by Olsen Brothers (Denmark)

2001 - “Everybody” by Tanel Padar, Dave Benton, and 2XL (Estonia)

2002 - “I wanna” by Marie N (Latvia)

2003 - “Everyway That I Can” by Sertab Erener (Turkey)

2004 - “Wild Dances” by Ruslana (Ukraine)

2005 - “My Number One” by Helena Paparizou (Greece)

2006 - “Hard Rock Hallelujah” by Lordi (Finland)

2007 - “Молитва / Molitva” by Marija Šerifović (Serbia)

2008 - “Believe” by Dima Bilan (Russia)

2009 - “Fairytale” By Alexander Rybak (Norway)

2010 - “Satellite” by Lena (Germany)

2011 - “Running Scared” by Ell and Nikki (Azerbaijan)

2012 - “Euphoria” by Loreen (Sweden)

2013 - “Only Teardrops” by Emmelie de Forest (Denmark)

2014 - “Rise Like a Phoenix” by Conchita Wurst (Austria)

2015 - “Heroes” by Måns Zelmerlöw (Sweden)

2016 - “1944” by Jamala (Ukraine)

2017 - “Amar pelos dois” by Salvador Sobral (Portugal)

2018 - “Toy” by Netta (Israel)

2019 - “Arcade” by Duncan Laurence (Netherlands)

2020 – [CANCELLED]

2021 - “Zitti e buoni” by Måneskin (Italy)

2022 - “Стефанія / Stefania” by Kalush Orchestra (Ukraine)

2023 - “Cha Cha Cha” by Käärijä (Finland) [Second highest popular vote ever, also repeat win by Loreen(Sweden)]

[yve-kae-nightfever]

y'know what? shush. i've been in an extreme lee mood

Yellow car, closed!

(Modern AU!Venti & G/N!Reader, platonic)

Summary: In italy there's this game where when you see a yellow car, you hit someone's shoulder and you say "yellow car, closed!" to specify that you're the one who saw it first and you can't be hit anymore. But, what if you hit your best friend's shoulder with your...foot? Oh, Venti for sure knows how to play.

Enjoy!

Ah, wasn't it just so nice to lay down and relax in the park.

Just you two, you and your best friend, Venti, sitting on a blanket and enjoying your time off school. Both of your shoes distractedly left in front of you, along with your backpacks.

The silence, just the sound of the cars passing by, maybe a group of kids far behind you, playing on the slide or the swing.

Then, you saw it coming. From afar, a yellow car.

Oh, it was the perfect opportunity to remember Venti how bad he hit your shoulder the last time he saw a yellow car before you.

You looked at him to see if he was paying attention to the road. Pff. His head was in the clouds.

Just one problem. You were a little bit too far for your fist to reach his shoulder. You'd make too much noise if you tried to move closer.

Oh, but your foot could. Everything was fair, as long as your target was hit...right? Of course it was fair!

So, as soon as the car was in full sight, you hit him with a push, helping yourself with your toes to effectively make it feel like a punch, or a kick in this case.

"Yellow car, closed!"

"Ah!" you had probably startled him, because he immediately whirled around and grabbed whatever had hit him.

"Hah! Got you! Who's the fastest one now huh?"

You gave Venti a moment to recover from the little scare you gave him. Man, what a terrible decision.

"Oh, for sure you're the fastest..."

It was in that exact moment that you wondered why he hadn't let go of your foot yet. And that you realized why, too.

"But rules are rules, right?"

Ah, another time where your mind convinced itself that everything was fair? No, that couldn't be possible.

"W-what do you mean?" you gently tugged at your now trapped ankle. No, oh no.

You saw Venti smirking. Oh. No.

"You must hit someone with your fist, not with you foot"

Within seconds, you found yourself squealing as soon as familiar fingers started scribbling along your foot.

"Wahaha-wahahahait! Vehehenti! Nooohoho!"

"Wait for what?" his fingers travelled up to your toes, and there, you lost it. "You broke the rules, now you get punishment!"

"I- I thought kihihicks wehehere valid! Plehehehease- nohohot theheHEHERE! AH- VEHEHENTI!"

At this point, when Venti started to tickle your toes and your heel at the same time, you couldn't even form full sentences.

"Well, maybe you should revise the rules a little bit, hehe. What if we do it now, mhh?~"

Your eyes snapped open and your hands flailed to stop him as you realized what he meant. And most of all, you got scared when he took off your sock. Ah, no, not that!

"First, you spot a yellow car" he scratched under your big toe, already sending you hysterics.

"Then, you select your target" he did the same with your second toe.

"V-VEHEHENTI! I knohohow how to plahahahay!" you begged, hoping to convince him.

"No you don't! Anyways, after that, you keep in mind that you have to hit your target with your fist, and not with anything else"

The fact that he made this whole sentence while he tickled your third toe made you want to kick his face, gosh, it tickled so bad!

"Then, you hit your target, possibly not strong enough to hurt them"

Well, at least he remembered the time he accidentally hit you a little bit too rough.

But for sure that didn't compensate with the tickle you were receiving.

"And finally, you scream -yellow car, closed!-" at that point, another yellow car passed, and not only he tickled your pinky toe, not only he reached out to hit your shoulder, but he also took advantage of it switched to tickle your neck.

"So, have you learnt the rules now?"

"Y-yehehes! Yes- now stohohohop! Plehehease!"

He chuckled as tears of joy pinched the corners of your eyes.

"Alright, alright, I trust you you'll remember the rules, hehe~"

"Next time I see a yellow car...I'm so going yo get you back for this..."

"Oh please, I don't break rules every now and then like a certain someone!~"

You glared at him playfully when he stuck his tongue out at you. "You-! Oh, that's it, come here!"

And you both knew that between yellow cars and tickle fights, your afternoon wasn't going to end soon.

[sysakiddo]

This is a snippet of my new maxiel brainrot. yeah, it's a royalty au based on my favourite fairytale, yeah, I should be writing my thesis now.

Max rolled his eyes, chewing the bread he fished out of the travelling box. His shirt was askew, unbuttoned blouse showed most of his scar-covered chest. There were only two people in the world who could see him like this - carefree and natural. Victoria and the person sitting across from him. 

“I really think that we should marry you off, Charles. You have been really bitter lately. Always writing and playing your sad little songs, it's getting a bit old, isn't it?” 

Charles whipped a hand his way, scowling hard. “Now you are just being mean.” He snatched the ham Max was holding, eating it before he could protest. He flashed a grin at the outraged look on his face. “Besides, it's you who should marry, your majesty.” 

“I really don't need to marry.” 

“What are we going to Italy for, then?” he scoffed. 

Max huffed. “What, do you have any plans at home? Isn't it good to get out of the realm once in a while?”

“It just doesn't seem like you, going there just to check if the rumours are true.” 

The king shrugged. He couldn't explain it either. “It's important to strengthen the relations with your neighbours.” 

This time it was Charles who rolled his eyes. His creamy complexion looked fantastic in his scarlet uniform, yet Max did not let himself be fooled. He noticed how his cheekbones became more pronounced, how the circles around his eyes made them look set deeper. 

They travelled the whole night. Max forgot how tired the travelling made him, whining about his back and neck for the past hour. Charles was kind enough not to mention how, not even a year ago, he had no problem riding a horse for days at a time. 

Instead, he banged his fist against the roof of the carriage. “Stop! The king would like to take a walk!” he yelled out, the carriage immediately coming to a halt. 

“We're in the kingdom now, your majesty.” his coachman informed them as he stepped out, his spine cracking loudly with the sudden movement. “The castle is over there.” he pointed a finger, and when Max squinted, he could see the castle perched up on a hill. 

“Either way, I am going to take a short walk. Alone,” he added when Charles stepped up by his side. He sighed but let him go, knowing better than to argue with him. The soldiers around them looked worried but not surprised. They, too, knew Max. 

The air was warmer in here. Max breathed in and out deeply, enjoying the smell of the blossoming flowers. The spring was in full swing, and the forest they stopped by was green and alive. He walked for a while, stopping beside a streak flowing quietly. Splashing the fresh water on his face made him sigh, relishing in the feeling.

At first, he was confused at the new sounds coming from the forest, then recognised it as a horse galloping nearby, the sound etched into his head forever. He moved further in, shadowed by the trees around him. Max turned around, ready to return and not bet on his luck, but it was too late. A beautiful Lipizzan was the first thing he noticed. His mane was well kept, coat shiny. Though, all of the thoughts about the horse spiralled out of his head when he laid his eyes on the rider. 

There, in front of him, he saw the most beautiful man he had ever witnessed. He sat straight, with perfect riding posture. The white shirt complimented his tanned olive skin, allowing a nice view of his lean figure. The muscles of his arms jumped when he pulled the lead. His chestnut curls had pearls woven into them, and they shined just as much as the diamonds on his neck and fingers. 

Max made the mistake of moving slightly, the branch under his feet crunching slightly. The rider looked up instantly, tugging the lead again, interrupting the horse from drinking.  Their eyes met and Max could swear he had gone insane.