#is still the thought process of current me I think I'm one of the few people my age who still uses movies as a reference point

[starpros-sunshine]

My knowledge on culturally significant media is like. The only thing I have going for myself who am I if not the guy that knows fun little references about things...

[ddejavvu]

How about Tyler Owen's x scaredy cat where he catches her spraying his cologne on his pillows and one of his shirts because sometimes it's really hard to sleep without him next to her.

Pillow Talk - Tyler Owens x Reader

come participate in tyler owens night !

You'd hoped that the cologne in the air would dissipate by the time Tyler returned from loading up the car. He'd left only his toiletry bag behind, which had worked perfectly seeing as his cologne was tucked gently inside for you to scavenge for. You only used a few sprays, but they're strong and the scent is still thick and heavy in the air when he returns to collect his last few items.

"The wind's startin' up out there," He grins, thrilled that his current target is only a few hours' drive instead of across states, "I think this one's gonna be at least-" His nose wrinkles, and despite nodding coyly throughout his speech, he sees through your attempts to be nonchalant.

"'S that my cologne, darlin'?"

You cock your head to the side but he doesn't drop it, "I didn't bother puttin' any on today; don't need to smell good for Boone. Did you spray it, sweet thing?"

Your tongue wants to lie but your brain doesn't supply anything fast enough, so you're left with an awkward silence before conceding and nodding sheepishly.

"I didn't- I wasn't trying to waste it, I- I know it's expensive, but I just- it's for your pillow, because I, well, sometimes it's really hard for me to sleep when you're gone so I thought that maybe if your pillow smelled like your cologne then I could hug it and it wouldn't be so hard for me to fall asleep."

Tyler does an excellent job of listening along despite the second half of your ramblings being strung together into one almighty word-vomit. You cut him some slack when it takes him a moment to process, but he's surging forwards in no time, hurriedly but gently gathering you into his arms and tucking you snugly into his chest.

"Oh, darlin'." He murmurs, voice a hair thicker than normal as his large hand cups the back of your head and presses your face further into his chest. If he hadn't been hugging you you'd have assumed the worst of his silence, but you hear a deep inhale before he pulls away from the hug and takes you by the shoulders instead.

"Angel baby, don't do that to me," He pleads weakly, eyes red-rimmed and voice shaking, "Y'can't- y'can't go around tellin' me you've got trouble sleepin when I'm not here, that- that just makes me sad."

"Don't be sad," You hum, tears pricking at your own eyes at the sight of his, "It's- I just got used to being with you, that's all. I'll just take melatonin, or- or I'll lay off the coffee after lunch, or-"

"No, just-" He sniffles, aggressive like he's angry at his nose for running, groaning and squeezing your shoulders, "Use my cologne, baby, and I'll leave you one of my sweatshirts, and when you start gettin' sleepy tonight, you call me and I'll tell you all about Boone and Lily and Dani and Dexter, and- and all the crazy shit they say, and it'll be just like we're in bed together and I'm talkin' your ear off."

He finishes with a wobbly smile, one that's perfectly mirrored on your own face as you let out a soft, gentle sob. He's eager to pull you back into his arms and his large hands rub soothingly up and down your back.

"There we go, that's it," He croons, squeezing you tightly while you sniffle into his chest, "Poor baby, I'll be back soon. Shouldn't be longer than a day. I- I might even make it back tonight, who knows?"

"Don't rush," You mumble pitifully into his chest, "I don't want you driving all night through with no sleep, especially after a tornado. Just- just get home safe, okay? Not quick."

"Alright. Alright," He agrees, stroking once more down your back, "I won't drive through, but," He pulls away once more to stare down his nose at you, a stern expression on his face that typically isn't there when he's gazing at you. His hands hold your face in place, locking you into his scrutiny, "You can't stop me from calling you from the motel and talking you to sleep."

"Okay," You laugh, a thick, wet, pathetic sound that's mottled with the remnants of tears that Tyler wipes off of your cheeks, "Maybe- maybe around ten tonight?"

"It's a date," He grins, his hands gently shifting your face upwards so that he can crane down and kiss you, "What should I wear?"

"Something real sexy," You muse, barely able to fight a grin off of your face, "Maybe a thong?"

"I don't think Dexter would appreciate that, darlin'." Tyler laughs, your shared tears long forgotten, "If we're gettin' a motel tonight it's our turn to room together."

You bask in Tyler's laughter until it fades, the way he's still holding you close to his chest producing the same contentment. Finally you hum, "Thanks for letting me use your cologne, baby."

"Anytime." He vows, pecking a kiss against your forehead, "Don't be shy now, askin' for stuff like that. I'll do whatever I can to help you, darlin'."

You find yourself unable to speak, too overwhelmed by a mix of bashfulness and adoration. You sink into his arms instead, and he presses yet another kiss to your head, seemingly on a mission to cover your entire face before he leaves.

"And hey," He hums, the words thrumming against your nose where you nestle into his chest, "If all else fails, I'll bring home a thong for tomorrow night- we'll go so hard you'll sleep through next week."

[iceunhie]

voicelines about you: as their lover !

featuring: imbibitor lunae, jing yuan, gepard. (+ jingliu and kafka)

notes: headcanons! some might be ooc HELP. i couldn't resist writing for hsr man… also jingliu and kafka sneak bc mmm i love morally questionable women 🤩. gn!reader. reader is not trailblazer. some fluff, some angst (?) kinda. reblogs are very much appreciated!

Imbibitor Lunae (Danheng IL)

About [Name]: They're one of the few people who's never condemned me for Danfeng's sins, nor ever tried to get me to own up to them. Their presence is very comforting to me. My lover? *coughs* Y-yes, they are.

About [Name]: Selfies Aside from March, [Name] always seems to ask me to take photos with their camera. Hm? No, I don't really mind. If it makes them feel happy, then that's enough reason for me to agree.

About [Name]: Photo Albums [Name] made an Express photo album with March yesterday. Yeah, pictures of our adventures and memories, according to them. It's in the Data Bank, so just ask me if you want to take a look at it.

Gepard Landau

About [Name]: [Name] is the most amazing individual I've met. Their determination and their will to pursue their goals to the fullest… I'm proud to call them my lover. Oh, ah… Was that too forward?

About [Name]: Lending a Hand Oftentimes, Serval asks [Name] to help her carry some things for her workshop. Although the times I get to personally help out are rare due to my duties, I still make it a point to support them by asking the Silvermane Guards to keep an eye out for them and help carry my sister's things for them if it's too heavy. Of course. They're always my top priority.

About Serval: Nagging Every time Serval stops by my post, it usually means [Name]'s run into some difficulties, which I try to help them out in. While her telling me about my lover's state is greatly appreciated, she always nags and teases me being a fool for them and… *sigh* No, it's alright, really. I'm thankful that my sister cares about [Name] and goes out of her way to talk to them for me. Still, I do hope her nagging would decrease next time.

Jing Yuan

About [Name]: Hm? [Name]? Yes, they're indeed my lover. Hehe, now that you've brought them up, I should go look for them. I'm afraid I've grown so used to the feeling of laying my head on their lap that no other pillow can suffice. Ah, what a predicament…

About [Name]: Spending Time Together While I do enjoy dozing off, [Name] makes a point to let me rest at a more appropriate place, instead of at the Seat of The Divine Foresight, buried under a mountain of paperwork. Oftentimes, I do as they say, but when I'm not and just craving their presence… Heh, now that's another matter entirely.

(BONUS! - Yanqing's Voiceline) About [Name]: Oh, [Name]? They always give me some extra allowance for buying swords, buying me sweets and food I like… Of course I won't say no to that! Sometimes, them being with me when I'm being scolded by the General for my expenses helps a lot. Probably because they're the only one the General can't say no to.

Jingliu

About [Name]: ….Do you really think you have the right to know about them? This is a warning. Try to ask again and perhaps you'll be faced with the end of my blade as my answer.

About [Name]: Soothed The whispers of the marastruck, succumbing to the Abundance… They are the only one able to calm the storm of my thoughts. For that, I am grateful for their patience and their kindness.

(BONUS 2! - Jing Yuan's Voiceline) About Name: While Master's current state is one of irreparable damage, at the very least… She has someone to hold onto while she grapples with the curse of mara. Even if I don't quite believe she's the Jingliu I knew from before, I know that her feelings for [Name] are sincere. I just hope she doesn't end up hurting them in the process.

Kafka

About [Name]: Aha, now thats a question I didn't expect to hear from you. My lover? Yes, [Name] is that to me. I very much enjoy their love and affection, you know. Even if it isn't on the script, I'd still mention them. Quite romantic of me, no?

About [Name]: Trophy They always, always chide me about me ruining my velvet coats when we finish up a script. What's wrong with a little blood? I keep most of them as trophies. There's one I'm especially fond of, too. They think it's rather embarassing that I keep the coat from the time they got injured on the job. Although the stains have long since turnt black, there's still a faint scent of iron in it. Hm? What do I mean by that? Heh, let's just say I don't take any harm coming to [Name] lightly. While they call it a reminder of their lack of caution, I'd rather call it a little show of my affection~

About [Name]: Destiny's Course Elio refused to tell me about what my future with them would be, saying that the path in that choice is quite difficult to discern, and I think it's for the best. I suppose if [Name] decided to leave the Stellaron Hunters, hm, would locking them up till they can't leave me anymore suffice….? Haha, just kidding. I wouldn't let them leave in the first place.

© 𝐌𝐇𝐈𝐈𝐄𝐄𝐄 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work.

[nutmeggery]

I need Neil Gaiman to know that Good Omens 2 made me feel emotions I haven't felt in nearly a decade.

When I heard there was going to be a Good Omens 2 I was looking forward to it, of course. I just wasn't expecting it do anything super special to my emotions. I was sure I'd enjoy it, though. I really enjoyed s1.

But, for the last few years, I watched shows and afterwards basically thought well, that was fun, and I quickly moved on and didn't think much about them. There was only about 3 shows in the last 5 years that had made me feel truly emotional and stayed on my mind to the point where I felt like I needed to engage in fandom for a while. (Good Omens 1 was one of them.)

I wasn't spoiled by the leak. I never even knew there was a leak. So I had no idea what was coming in s2. And oh boy...

See, I'd watched Our Flag Means Death, a show where you don't expect the lead characters to kiss, because, well, that never happens in these types of shows, right? And this is important because when they did kiss, it felt like a door that had been locked with just about all the high security locks in the world had suddenly, inexplicably, been opened. Something switched inside me. It took me months to understand what it was, but when I thought about Good Omens before s2 came out, I realized what it was.

I would never truly enjoy a bromance they're-only-queer/in love-by-your-own-interpreation story ever again. Stories where nothing is confirmed, just subtext that anyone who doesn't want to see it can easily deny and mock those who wish it was more.

While it was clear that Crowley and Aziraphale cared a lot about each other in s1, and were probably in love, it was still just a fun ship for fans to play with in fanfiction and fanart. Do they love each other? Oh sure. In what way? Well, that's up to interpretation. Ok, cool. But it's not quite Our Flag Means Death, is it?

Then I watched Good Omens 2. And from episode 1 I saw my favourite Angel and Demon duo love each other. And I was having the best time. I hadn't had such a good time watching a show in a long while. It was not only right up my alley, it was an alley I wasn't even aware was my alley until I saw it. I enjoyed seeing the old characters, the new characters. Oh, I was wonderful.

It was clear to me that, of course Crowley and Aziraphale love each other, are IN love with each other, showing it in their own way. And I wasn't expecting it to be THIS obvious.

And then when the kiss happened, I couldn't believe it. I covered my mouth with both hands and gasped and sat up straight in my seat. I had never expected it--the heartbreak it added to the already heartbreaking scene--it rewired something inside me.

It was like my emotions had been locked up in a stall like a horse for so, so long, and now the gate had been opened, the stable door kicked down, and the horse was running out onto the large pasture into the daylight, bucking and kicking up grass. Oh my god, I have to take a few minutes to process that entire 6 hour marathon of emotions.

And by a few minutes I meant a few days.

More than a few, actually.

I didn't need a kiss to understand how much they loved each other, but I did need the kiss to understand how intense and heartbreaking their separation is for them after everything.

But more than that, the kiss broke a barrier. They really did it, I thought. They really dared.

Aziraphale and Crowley aren't human males, no, but they're played by male actors. And that is significant. That makes the kiss significant. In the world we currently live in.

Weeks later, I'm still obsessed with the show, re-watching s1 and 2, reading the book again, listening to the audio drama. And I'm on tumblr, seeing people's posts and art to somehow sate my hunger for a s3 that doesn't exist (yet).

And I'm having a wonderful time.

[wombywoo]

Ok! I've finally decided to put together a (somewhat) comprehensive tutorial on my latest art~

Please enjoy this little step-by-step 💁‍♀️

First things first--references!

Now I'm not saying you have to go overboard, but I always find that this is a crucial starting point in any art piece I intend on making. Especially if you're a detail freak like me and want to make it as realistic as possible 🙃

As such, your web browser should look like this at any given point:

Since this is a historical piece, it means hours upon hours of meaningless research just to see what color the socks are, but...again. that isn't, strictly, necessary 😅

Once I've compiled all my lovely ref pics, I usually dump them into a big-ass collage ⬇️

(I will end up not using half of these, alas :'D)

Another reference search for background material, and getting to showcase our models of choice for this occasion~

When picking a reference for an actor or model, the main thing I keep in mind (besides prettiness 🤭) is lighting and orientation. Because I already kinda know what pose I'm gonna go with for this piece, I can look for specific angles that might fit the criteria. I should mention that I am a reference hound, and my current COD actor ref folder looks like this:

Also keep in mind, if you're using a ref that you need to flip, make sure you adjust accordingly. This especially applies to clothing, as certain things like pants zippers and belt buckles can be quite specific ☝️

Now that we've spent countless hours googling, it's time to start with a rough sketch:

It doesn't have to be pretty, folks, just a basic guideline of where you want the figures to be.

The next step is to define it more, and I know this looks like that 'how to draw an owl' meme, but I promise--getting from the loose sketch above to below is not that difficult.

Things to keep in mind are--don't go too in-depth with the details, because things are still subject to change at this point. In terms of making a suitable anatomically-correct sketch, I would suggest lots of studying. This doesn't even have to be things like figure drawing, I genuinely look at people around me for inspiration all the time. Familiarize yourself with the human form, and things like weight, proportions, posing will seem a little more feasible.

It's also important at this stage to consider your composition. Remember to flip the canvas frequently to make sure you're not leaning to one side too often. I'm sure something can be said for the spiral fibonacci stuff, which I don't really try to do on purpose, but I think keeping things like symmetry and balance in mind is a good start ✌️

Next step is just blocking in the figures. Standard. No fuss 👍

Now onto the background!

It's frankly hilarious how many people thought I was *hand-drawing* these maps and stuff 😂😂 I cannot even begin to comprehend how insanely difficult that would be. So yeah, we're just taking the lazy copy and paste way out 🤙

I almost always prepare my backgrounds first, and this is mostly to get a general color scheme off the bat. For collage work, it's really just a matter of trial and error, sticking this here, slapping this there, etc. I like to futz around with different overlay options until I've found a nice arrangement. Advice for this is just--go nuts 🤷‍♀️

Next, I add a few color adjustments. I tend to make at least 2 colors pop in an art piece, and low and behold, they usually tend to be red and blue ❤️💙There's something about warm/cool vibes, idk man..

Now we move on to coloring the figures. This is just a basic block and fill, not really defining any of the details yet.

Next, we add some cursory values. Sloppy airbrush works fine, it'll look better soon I promise 🙏

And now--rendering!

I know a lot of beginner artists are intimidated by rendering, and I can totally understand why. It's just one of those things you have to commit to 💪

I've decided to show a brief process of rendering our dear Johnny's face here:

Starting off, I usually rely on the trusty airbrush just to get some color values going. Note--I've kept my sketch layer on top, but feel free to turn it on and off as you work, so as to not be too bound to the sketch. For now, it's just a guideline.

This next stage may look like a huge jump, but it's really just adding more to the foundation. I try to think of it like putting on make-up in a way~ Adding contours, accentuating highlights. This is also where I start adding in more saturation, especially around areas such as ears, nose and lips. Still a bit fuzzy at this point, but that's why we keep adding to it 💪

A boy has appeared! See--now I've removed most of the line layer, and it holds up on its own. I'll admit that in order to achieve this realistic style, you'll need lots and lots of practice and skill, which shouldn't be discouraging! Just motivate yourself with the prospect of getting to look at pretty men for countless hours 🙆‍♀️

I'll probably do a more in-depth explanation about rendering at some point, but let's keep this rolling~

Moving forward is just a process of adding to the figures bit by bit. I do lean towards filling in each section from top to bottom, but you can feel free to pop around to certain parts that appeal to you more. I almost always do the faces first though, because if they end up sucking, I feel less guilty about scrapping it 😂 But no--I think he's pretty enough to proceed 😚

They're coming together now 🙆‍♀️ Another helpful tip--make sure you reuse color. By that, I mean--try to incorporate various colors throughout your piece, using the eyedropper tool to keep a consistent palette. I try to put in bits of red and blue where I can

Here they are fully rendered! Notice I've made a few subtle changes from the sketch, like adjusting the belt buckles because I made a mistake 😬 Hence why you shouldn't put too much stock in your initial sketch~

The next step is more of a stylistic choice, but I usually go over everything with an outline, typically in a bright color like green. Occasionally, I can just use my initial line layer, but for this, I've made a brand new, cleaner line 👍

And the final step is adjusting the color and adding some text:

Tada!! It's done!

All in all, this took me the better part of a week, but I have a lot of free time, so yeah ✌️

I hope you appreciated that little walkthrough~ I know people have been asking me how I do my art, but the truth is--I usually have no clue how to explain myself 😅 So have this half-assed tutorial~

As a bonus, here is a cute (cursed) image of Johnny without his mustache:

A baby, a literal infant child !!! who put this wee bairn on the front lines ??! 😭

Anyway! peace out ✌️

[ceesimz]

I'm a Star, How Could I Not Shine?

This is just a lil soft blurb I got the idea to write tonight, I still have my other story in the works and I'm loving creating it :)

Life was hardly fair, that much you knew. But it seemed like the last few months had been especially harsh on your girlfriend. And it was a hard watch, almost agonising to see her come home a shell of her true self everyday.

Today, though, it reached its peak.

Work was being a lot kinder to you; you typically had a lighter load than Alexia but the past few weeks had kind of been a breeze, you were promoted to a new branch and it was a dream to be there. So, as you watched on from the sidelines as the media tore Alexia apart, inventing new reasons to needlessly hate on her, you were doing your best to make life at home a safe haven for her.

Today was Friday, and your plan was to come home from work and get all the chores out of the way, before ordering food in so that there was as little as possible for Alexia to have to worry about. Maybe you'd run a bath for her, give her a massage, or let her have some alone time before falling asleep with your chest to her back as you ran a hand softly through her hair.

What you weren't expecting, however, was to find a familiar figure in a black tracksuit curled up on the sofa, soundly sleeping.

You froze in the doorway, unsure what to do next. The first thing you thought was just how much the sight concerned you. Alexia wasn't meant to be home for a number of hours yet, her day was filled with meetings after she'd had training in the morning. Tie that in with the fact that she was adamant in never taking naps, ever, as well as how she always followed her schedule to the second, and your body was wracked with worry from head to toe.

Long story short, this only alluded to unimaginable things consuming her right now. You didn't even want to think about it. If it hurt you this much, and you weren't even the one experiencing all she was, then god only knows how she's feeling. Hopefully you can coax it out of her.

Instead of disturbing her right now, you backed out of the room and headed towards the kitchen. Once in there, you off-loaded your bag and your jacket onto the dining table, before opening your phone and putting in the order for dinner. Then you took a moment to compose yourself, to come up with a way to approach the delicate situation currently festering in the lounge of the apartment.

Alexia could wake up and be in one of either two moods: she doesn't really want company as she needs time to process what's pacing through her mind, or, and you're not sure if you preferred this one or not, she'd be in such an utterly wrecked state of mind that she would just melt into your arms and unload weeks, if not months, worth of bottled up emotions. You knew the latter would happen at some point, but you definitely didn't think it would come about so soon.

Really, this wasn't how you expected the night to go, you just assumed that Alexia would complete her work day before coming home, speaking very few words for the rest of the evening. It wasn't out of displeasure, it was how she processed things. Until the pressure built up inside her and exploded, she would keep pretty schtum about how things were going for her, and no matter how much you tried to shake her out of these habits, it was just something about her you had to deal with.

But now, with somewhat of an idea built up in your head, you slip your shoes off and put them on the rack by the front door, and walk back towards your sleeping girlfriend. As you get closer to her, you spot the scowl to her brow and slight frown on her lips - even as she sleeps, she still can't catch a break. She looks perturbed and uncomfortable, like there's things she can't quite shake off, and it breaks your heart.

With a gentle hand on her shoulder as she sleeps on her side with her face slightly covered by her hood, you gently nudge her.

"Hey, Ale, wake up. It's me, wake up." You whisper, leaning down to place a kiss on her temple. At the affectionate touch, she jolts awake, breathing a little heavy. "Hey, it's only me."

"Oh." She muttered, rubbing her eyes and sighing. "Por qué estás aquí?"

"I just got home from work, it's half four." Wrong thing to say.

She sits up in shock, looking at you agasp, her stomach churning with dread. She never missed meetings, she never missed any kind of work, period.

"Mierda. Lo siento, tengo que irme, ahora." Alexia jumps up and rushes to grab her keys from the kitchen, but you grab her hand and stop her. "No, amor, I-"

"Ale, take a breath. Slow down." You say, standing up and taking her other hand. Her eyes are everywhere but you, her body language is tense and radiates anxiety. "Look at me. Hey, mírame, Ale."

"Amor, you do not understand, I am missing a meeting ri-"

"No, you are here with me, and you need to take a minute. Just a minute, if anything. Please." You plead, dropping her hands to cup her face and get her to look at you. "Sit down with me, relax for a moment. I won't hear otherwise."

A reluctant nod later, she sits down with you on the couch, though she perches on the edge like she could take off any second. You don't doubt that she won't.

"Sorry." She states a quiet moment after, her hands coming to cover her face as she sighs heavily yet again.

"For what, Ale?" You ask, shuffling closer to her side and draping an arm across her shoulders. She shrugs, making you frown, so with your free hand you delicately turn her head to face you. "Take the day off. Anyone can see you need it."

Her nod isn't so hesitant this time, and that's terrifying in itself. The ease in which she agreed to skiving the rest of her schedule is so unnerving that you're not entirely sure where to go from here. You were expecting more of a fight, expecting her to be hard work for the night, but here she was just giving up in front of you. Near enough relinquishing her role as if it wasn't such a mental battle for her.

At her agreement, you tug her into you and she follows easily, resting her forehead against your collarbone and breathing out shakily.

"Let me look after you tonight, Ale. You don't have to apologise, not for anything." You whisper, scattering light, caring kisses across her cheek.

You pull down the hood of her jumper and, finally, see the full effect of what the month's brazen nature has done to her. The bags under her eyes are more prominent than ever, there's a permanent frown line etched onto her forehead, and she's a worryingly grey colour. Her face gives off a perturbed look, and to be honest you didn't think it was possible to be able to visibly see the aftermath of a mentally degrading few weeks.

Right now, it seems like sleep is the best option for her. And fortunately for you, and for Alexia, the restaurant you ordered from won't deliver your dinner for another forty or so minutes. It's a small miracle you'll happily take at this time, and if Alexia was in the right mind she'd probably laugh, because the wait time normally drives you crazy. You've never been more grateful for it though.

"Why don't you sleep some more? I got us some food, it won't be here for a while yet and I really think you need the rest." You suggest, tucking a few wisps of hair behind her ear.

"You... you will stay here?" She questions in such a childlike manner that it splits your heart in two.

"Yes, I'll be right here, Ale, I promise. I'm not going anywhere, ever." You tell her, and that's when she meets your eye. The look she gives is devastating, it's filled with all sorts that would take you the rest of the night to unpack. And, quite frankly, Alexia isn't ready for that.

You urge her to lay down just like she was earlier, except this time you take the place by her head and let her rest it on your lap. It's now that you're carding your fingers through her hair, not in your bed. It's now that Alexia finally breaks, as sniffles sound through the room sporadically.

"Tan cansada." She uttered, almost unintelligibly, as she covers her eyes with her hand and buries her face in your stomach.

"It's okay. You can relax now. It's just us here, and you're safe. You're gonna be okay." You reasurre her, and you mean it with every ounce of your being. How could you not, when the light of your life has been dimmed by clouds of disdain from people who aren't even aware of the joy she brings you?

Alexia may come across as a force to be reckoned with, but after all, she's just your Ale, the one that cries at animal shelter adverts on TV and smiles like a fool at the little things like when you bring home her favourite snack as a surprise one day. She's a sensitive soul, but that's what you love about her. Everything she does, she does it with her whole heart, and you'd sooner be six feet under than to let your love for her go untold.

"I love you, Ale, and I'm really proud of everything you do. Everything."

"Even when I am not strong enough to go to one meeting?" She mumbles insecurely, stealing a glance up at you with one eye.

"Especially then. You are strongest in your weakest moments, when you're afraid to ask for help but you do it anyway. So, I'm always proud of you, and I always will be. I swear by that."

[alwaysmicado]

I love your writing, could there possibly be a third instalment of keep you warm please 🥹

cravings

3.4k | Joel Miller x f!reader

post-outbreak, established relationship, pregnancy, smooching Summary: Your pregnancy hormones have you craving three things: figs, coffee, and Joel. He’s more than happy to accommodate you. A/N: Anon, thank you so much for your sweet message!! I'm so happy you liked keep you warm and never felt so loved. Both fics are very special to me, so it means a lot that you connected with them. Enjoy this one and please let me know what you think! 🤍

“Joel.”

You peer at his peaceful face, but his slumbering form remains undisturbed. He seems to be lost in the realm of dreams, showing no signs of stirring.

Undeterred, you lean in a little closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you repeat his name, the warmth of your breath a gentle caress. Still, the subtle symphony of your voice fails to penetrate the fortress of his sleep, especially on the side of his deaf ear.

Realizing your gentle approach might not suffice, you decide on a more direct method. With a hesitant resolve, you extend your hand and give his shoulder a tender shake, hoping to wake him up. 

“Joel,” you say a bit louder, the gentleness of your initial attempts replaced by a touch of urgency.

As Joel finally begins to wake, his eyes flicker open, and his gaze immediately darts to your face. He turns towards you, and his hand instinctively finds its way to your belly. His touch is both tender and firm, as if grounding himself in the reality of the life blossoming within you.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles, worry evident in his voice. The urgency in his tone reflects the immediate need to ensure your well-being. 

You’re only seven months pregnant; it’s far too early for the baby to arrive. Did he miss any signs that something is wrong with you? You’ve been uncomfortable and you’ve been experiencing horrible back pain for the past few weeks, yes, but besides that, you seemed fine, right?

It’s typical of you to keep quiet and hide your pain from him. What if he wasn’t attentive enough? He shouldn’t have left you alone at home for so long, he should have taken better care of you. This can’t be happening again, please, God��

“Joel,” you interrupt his racing thoughts, sensing the mounting panic radiating off his body. You place a reassuring hand on his warm chest, and the other over his on your bump. “Breathe. It’s okay. The baby’s fine. I’m fine.”

Relief washes over him, but confusion quickly takes over as he notices the glisten of tears on your moonlit cheeks. Concern deepens the furrows on his forehead as he searches your eyes for an explanation.

“What happened, darlin’?” he asks, his voice a gentle murmur, trying his best to remain calm.

“I…I love you so much,” you finally blurt out, your voice breaking. Unable to contain the surge of emotions any longer, you let your tears fall freely. The intensity of your love for him feels overwhelming, almost painful, tonight. You know it’s silly, but you can’t help it.

You need him to know.

Joel blinks, his brain needing a few seconds to register your unexpected declaration of love. As he processes the situation and your words, the realization dawns that the unpredictable currents of pregnancy hormones must have taken hold of you. His expression immediately softens, a hint of amusement replacing his initial confusion.

“Well, now ain’t that a sweet thing to wake me up for.”

You sniffle, feeling a bit offended by his nonchalant response.

“Joel, I’m serious. It–it hurts, you know? My heart feels like it’s going to burst with love for you and I feel like I’m gonna die if I can’t get you to understand how much I love you. Please tell me you understand and–and that you know and will never forget? Please?”

Your voice breaks again as your big, watery eyes pierce Joel’s soul. He sits up, his face softening further as he realizes the depth of your feelings.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you into his arms. You rest your head against his chest as his hand rubs soothing circles on your back. 

“I understand, sweetheart,” he murmurs against the crown of your head. “I know how much you love me, even though I need to pinch myself sometimes to make sure I’m not dreamin’.” He gently strokes the back of your head. “Why such a wonderful person like you would love a grumpy old man like me is beyond me, but I’ve accepted it a long time ago. I know you do, darlin’. You can be sure of that.”

Your gratitude echoes in a soft “thank you” against his warm chest, the emotional weight on your shoulders lifting slightly as you try to steady your breathing. Sitting up next to him, you turn to meet his dark, alert eyes, your vulnerability laid bare.

“I just…what is wrong with me? I’ve never been this emotional. It’s exhausting and it sucks so bad,” you admit, a hint of frustration coloring your words. You look into his eyes, seeking understanding and reassurance.

“I know I probably sound like a crazy person, but I honestly don’t know what to do with all this love for you. It’s like it’s too much for me. And…I don’t wanna freak you out or be too clingy, you know, I’m really trying to give you space, I am. It’s just too much right now and I feel so lost and scared that you don’t actually, fully understand what you mean to me. And–and it’s breaking my heart.” 

You’re gesticulating wildly, hiccups occasionally disturbing your stream of consciousness. 

“Sweetheart,” Joel chuckles as he takes your hands into his. “It’s alright, I promise. Too much love? I’m pretty sure that’s a problem most folks would like to have.”

You give him a playful glare, though your eyes are still damp. “You’re not taking me seriously.”

He shakes his head, cupping your tear-streaked face in his hands. “I am, darlin’, I am. I know how much you love me. I can feel it every day.” He gently rubs your cheeks with his thumbs. “But maybe, just maybe, the pregnancy hormones are playin’ a little trick on you tonight. They can make everything feel like it’s a hundred times more intense. But you ain’t crazy, and there’s nothin’ wrong with you,” he assures you with a soft smile. 

You huff a laugh, despite your emotional state. “It’s not a trick, Joel. I really, really love you.”

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And I love you too, sweetheart, more than words can say. And about bein’ too clingy? Forget that immediately. You know I like havin’ you close.” He kisses both of your wet cheeks with his warm lips, sending a tingling sensation down your spine. “Ain’t no such thing as too much love, especially when it comes from you.”

His words carry a sincerity that resonates in your bedroom, and the corners of his lips curl into a teasing grin. “But, sweetheart, I gotta admit, I’m flattered. Never thought little ole me would have someone as lovely as you worryin’ so much about his heart.” 

A deep sigh escapes you as his lips find the sensitive skin of your neck, his hands delicately tracing the curve of your swelling belly. His words, a whispered acknowledgment of the warmth you bring to his life, stir a tender emotion within you.

“You’ve got a real knack for makin’ a man feel special, you know that?” 

Your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to the sensations of Joel’s touch, and a soft hum escapes your lips, your breath quickening with anticipation. In a barely audible whisper, you express your need for him, the desire between you two growing with each passing moment. The air becomes charged with an electric energy, and as your hand moves down his belly, the mutual longing intensifies to a fever pitch.

Joel, unable to resist the urge to have you, pulls you onto his lap, his arms enveloping you, drawing you close. The hunger that has been simmering throughout the day is unleashed in a passionate kiss that conveys the overwhelming depth of your craving for this man. Clothes are shed in a frenzy, the urgency of the moment fueled by a shared longing that borders on painful.

“Let me show you how much I love you, darlin’,” he whispers against your lips, his hands exploring your body with an intensity that mirrors the fervor of your own desire. “I promise you’ll be able to sleep after.”

– – –

The next morning arrives with the soft glow of dawn, casting gentle shadows across the room. As you slowly awaken, the enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee tickles your senses. Joel, ever considerate of your morning routine, has prepared enough of it for you to savor as soon as you rise.

With sleepy eyes, you make your way to the kitchen, where the rich scent of the precious beverage beckons. Joel’s thoughtful gesture warms your heart, and you can’t help but smile at the simple yet meaningful act of love.

“Have I ever told you that your dad is the best?” you ask your baby, rubbing soft circles on your belly. “He would always let me have some of his coffee when we were on the road because he knew how much I liked it. Even before we fell in love. And now that you’re making me have all of these wonderful cravings, he’s making sure I get my cup every single day. Isn’t that nice?”

As you take that first sip, the warmth of the coffee spreads through you, dispelling the remnants of sleep. The familiar flavor grounds you, letting you forget your aching body and anxious mind for a minute.

“What are you in the mood for, little one? Apart from kicking me and pressing on my bladder, of course.” You smile to yourself and watch the snowflakes dancing outside the window. “I think a stroll to the greenhouse sounds nice, hm? Maybe they have new vegetables or fruits we can try. I’m still dreaming about that fig your dad brought us a few months ago, you know? You were still tiny back then, but I think you must’ve liked it.” 

You’ve repeatedly woken up from vivid dreams of eating the luscious fruit, felt the juice running down your chin, only to—very disappointedly—realize that you’d been sucking on your pillow instead.

You sigh and drink the rest of your coffee in silence before getting ready, putting on your oversized winter coat, your wooly hat, and your boots. All gifts from Maria. Maybe you could visit her today, too. You’ve been trying to make an effort to get to know her and Tommy better, after all. For Joel, mostly, but you must admit that they’ve grown on you as people — as family.

The greenhouse stands as a haven of life amid the chilly winter air. As you step inside, a wave of warmth embraces you, accompanied by the vibrant hues of thriving plants. The scent of earth and greenery fills the air, and you can’t help but marvel at the array of vegetables and fruits flourishing under the community’s care.

Maria, noticing your presence, looks up from her gardening tasks with a warm smile. “Well, look who’s here! It’s been a while. How are you feeling, sweetheart?” she greets you, wiping her hands on a cloth.

You return Maria’s smile, grateful for her welcoming demeanor. “I’m doing okay, thank you for asking,” you say as you take off your thick coat. “The baby’s been quite active lately. She even kicked so hard a few nights ago that she woke Joel up. He was so freaked out,” you chuckle, remembering Joel’s shocked face. “We honestly can’t wait to meet her.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Maria says, guiding you through the rows of flourishing plants. “Being surrounded by all this life does wonders for the soul, doesn’t it?”

You nod, taking in the sight of tomatoes, cucumbers, and various herbs thriving under the controlled environment. “It’s amazing what you’ve created here, Maria. I would love to help out as soon as I can do physical labor again. I’ve always loved looking after living things, especially animals or plants. I’m still getting used to the idea of a little human.” 

Maria chuckles, her eyes filled with warmth. “It’s a big change, but it’s a beautiful one. It’s like…finding a piece of yourself you didn’t know was missing. And then suddenly, you’re whole, and it all makes sense. You realize that all you’ve done has led you to this perfect little being, and you’ll feel love you didn’t even know you were capable of feeling. It’s, uh, it’s amazing.”

She gives you a sympathetic smile as she notices your tears. “Sorry,” you mumble, wiping them away with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’ve been so emotional lately. It’s so embarrassing.”

“No need to apologize, sweetheart. Now, what brings you here today? Just checking out our little green corner?”

“Well, I’ve actually developed a little bit of a craving for figs, and I thought I’d see for myself if you have some here.”

Maria’s expression turns apologetic. “Ah, about that…we had some figs earlier in the season, but they’ve been picked already. I’m afraid there aren’t any left.”

You furrow your brow, unable to hide your disappointment. “Oh, that’s a shame. I was really hoping to get some. Maybe next season, then.”

Maria pats your shoulder sympathetically, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “I’m sorry, dear. I remember the irresistible cravings I had with my son. I wanted cheeseburgers and chocolate, nothing else. It got so bad at some point that I’d keep chocolate bars hidden in my desk at work.”

She laughs and you smile at her, thankful that she’s sharing such a personal part of her past with you. “But hey, how about I send Tommy out to check the storage? We might have some preserved ones left. Not as good as fresh, but it’s something.”

You appreciate her thoughtfulness, “That would be wonderful, Maria. Thank you. And, well, even without figs, being here and seeing all of this…it’s really comforting.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Maria smiles at you. “This greenhouse is a sanctuary for all of us. And you, my dear—my dears, are always welcome here.”

– – –

The soft hum of your voice fills the cozy kitchen as you chop vegetables with honed precision. The scent of fresh produce lingers in the air, intermingling with the delicious aroma of bread and the subtle hint of bacon from the fridge. Maria’s precious gifts have transformed your modest kitchen into a haven of warmth and abundance.

As you lose yourself in the meditative act of cooking, the front door creaks open, and the familiar, comforting presence of Joel announces his return from patrol. A smile tugs at your lips, anticipation and joy bubbling within you. Before you can turn around, strong arms wrap around you from behind, and Joel’s beard tickles your neck as he presses a gentle kiss on your skin.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he murmurs, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “Miss me?”

“Always,” you reply, setting down the knife to lean back into his embrace. The scent of leather, gunpowder, and…Joel envelops you, a fragrance that feels like home. His deep chuckle reverberates through his chest, and you revel in the simple pleasure of being close to him.

“Is that so?” he murmurs against your neck between kisses, his hands caressing your belly.

“Mmm, always.”

“I should probably shower first,” he whispers in your ear, but you turn around in his arms and protest with a playful pout.

“No, I love how you smell after patrol,” you confess, earning another chuckle from him. “It reminds me of how you smelled when we met, you know. It, uh, it makes me feel at home.” 

Joel tightens his grip around you, his laughter turning into a soft hum of contentment. He leans in for a tender kiss, squeezing your sides affectionately before flattening his hands over your spine. You inhale deeply, savoring his comforting scent, and relish the warmth of his touch.

When you open your eyes again, you find Joel looking at you expectantly, one eyebrow raised. With a sigh and a playful roll of your eyes, you relent, begrudgingly agreeing that he can go take a quick shower. He smiles at your response, promises to be back shortly, kisses you on the cheek, and heads to the bathroom.

In his absence, you continue preparing dinner, the rhythmic sounds of chopping and sizzling creating a soothing backdrop.

“You’re gonna love this stew,” you whisper to your baby, a gentle smile playing on your lips. “Your dad taught me how to make it. He would always cook it for your sister before the outbreak, you know. It’s a family recipe.”

You sigh, your hand gently rubbing your belly as you imagine a younger Joel standing at the stove, giving little Sarah the spoon to taste the stew.

How you wish the world hadn’t been so cruel to them. 

Joel returns in fresh clothes, his damp hair combed back, the scent of soap lingering in the air. For a brief moment, he stands there, simply looking at you, his expression one of admiration and love for you and the life you two created. You glance over your shoulder, catching his eye.

“Hey there, handsome,” you say, and he steps closer, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace. His fingers trace delicate patterns on your back, creating a comforting rhythm that matches the steady beat of your heart.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he says, his voice a low murmur filled with warmth. “I’ve seen a lot in my life, but nothin’ comes close to your beauty.” He leans in and presses a lingering kiss on your cheek.

“And I’m not just sayin’ that because you’re carryin’ my baby…even though I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t very much enjoyin’ this,” he murmurs into your ear, his warm hands wandering up your belly. “And these,” he goes on between nibbles on your earlobe as his hands find your breasts, “these are just an added bonus to the beauty you already possess.”

You moan softly and pull him into an urgent kiss as you can’t resist your craving for Joel any longer.

“We got twenty minutes,” you whisper against his lips as your fingers fumble with the button of his jeans. 

“I can work with that,” he grins.

– – –  

After a filling dinner, exhaustion slowly begins to settle in, and you find solace on the couch. Joel, ever attentive, sits beside you, offering a gentle foot massage to ease the day’s strain. Wrapped in the cozy blanket he knit for you, the tender gesture elicits a contented sigh from you. 

He looks into your bleary eyes, searching for something more, something unspoken. “You sure there’s nothin’ else I can do for you, darlin’?” he asks, his voice soft but probing. 

You give him a tired smile. “I’ve got everything I need right here, Joel. Thank you.”

“Hmm, that’s a shame,” he murmurs, mischief dancing in his eyes. “I got all these figs from Tommy, but if you don’t want them, I’ll give them ba–”

“Wait, you got figs?” Your eyes light up with pure excitement as you swiftly sit up on your elbows, genuine joy bubbling in your voice.

“Yeah,” Joel chuckles, giving your feet a gentle squeeze before getting up. “I’ll be back in a minute, sweetheart.” 

He returns with a plate filled with halved figs, and your heart skips a beat at the sight.

“This,” he says, offering you one of the fruits, “is for you, my love.” Gently, he brings it to your lips, and the taste is nothing short of pure bliss. You can’t help but beam at him, overflowing with love and gratitude.

“These are amazing,” you say between bites, savoring each moment. “They’re even better than in my dreams.”

You urge Joel to join in, sharing the figs with him like you’ve shared everything in your lives since he found you all this time ago. As you enjoy the sweet fruit together, your baby begins to kick, and you burst into laughter.

“Looks like you’ve made our little one very happy,” you say, placing Joel’s hand on your belly so he can feel. Joel grins, his eyes sparkling with affection.

“Well, little one, I’m glad I could make you and your mommy happy. It’s what you do for the people you love, you know?” He leans down, his lips brushing against your belly. “You hear that, kiddo? I love you, and I love your mommy. And that’s why I’ll always be here for you two, doin’ my best to make you happy.”

– – –

Thank you for reading!! 🤍 -> keep you warm -> never felt so loved -> masterlist

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hi Gallus, I'm doing some worldbuilding and you seem like you could be connected enough for me to find an answer to the problem of dwarven agriculture. Many problems are created by the requirement of no sunlight, as even the common response of mushrooms still need light to break down decomposing matter as a primary energy source. Currently, we're thinking that they use a special type of mushroom that breaks down rocks in an energy-producing reaction, giving them enough energy to absorb nutrients and grow - this would serve a second purpose in explaining why building a massive hollowed-out mountain fortress doesn't produce an equally large amount of gravel.

Any thoughts? We're grasping at straws kinda lol

Well, some thoughts:

There's plenty of cave systems (especially Karst Systems) that are at least partially open to Sunlight- especially the kind that have rivers running through them, which is something else that's really helpful for agriculture.

For Example: This Cool AF Sinkhole cave in china that has an entire Forest in it

Now There's a view to put outside the city Gates!

Karst specifically is a landscape where underground rivers hollow out the limestone underground and then the cave roofs fall in. This kind of landscape answers your gravel question nicely: the hollowed out mountain does produce an equal amount of gravel, but the gravel turns up as the sandy banks of the river system hundreds of miles away.

So, there's your sunlight that can be used directly, or reflected or magically transferred deeper into the cave system.

Or they just put more holes in the roof! Unless your dwarves are also vampires, there's no reason for them to not hollow out a few Skylights into the mountain too.

But let's talk some other cave ecology and agriculture!

For starters, your dwarves could be sitting on top of a literal gold mine that would allow them to trade for a lot of needed materials and crops.

And by gold mine, I mean Salt Mine.

Historically, salt comes out of hollowed-out mountains and is worth more than gold.

Also something the humans have historically fought a bunch of wars over, so there's some free political tensions if you needed that!

I can also mean the possible fucking enormous piles of bat guano that accumulates in Karst caves, which is the world's most insanely good fertilizer, and ALSO something that has been worth more than it's weight in gold.

Speaking of Gold, another thing that often lives in sinkhole caves in abundance is BEES. turns out, limestone stalactites are a terrific place to build a hive that is difficult for predators to reach, stays dry and the stone substrate means the hives can reach many tons in weight before they start having structural issues. That sweet, sweet insect-derived liquid gold is already important to Dwarves in a lot of folklore- it's really hard to have a Traditional Dwarven Mead Hall without the honey to make the mead, you know?

So you got your mushrooms, you got your sunlight-grown sinkhole crops, you got your traded goods and you got your source of alcohol- the only thing really missing from an ancient food pyramid here is a staple carbohydrate. To that end, may I propose our good Peruvian Friend: The Potato.

Grain crops aren't actually all that nutritious and were kept around in ancient societies more as legal tender that kept the peasants busy, because wheat or rice takes months to grow, an enormous amount of labor to harvest, and wheat also needs to be milled before it can be turned into food- all enormously time-consuming processes that keep peasants busy and easy to rule tyranically over.

Potatoes though? Pop one in the ground in spring and you can dig up fingerlings all summer, and if you make potato towers, you can harvest up to 40lbs of delicious, easy-to-prepare-and-store carb out of a single plant- a real space-saver for the limited sinkhole skyspace.

If your dwarves have cheese, the potato makes even more sense, because Potato+dairy is the easiest, most nutritionally complete survival food there is.

Finally, consider: Dwarven Vodka.

This post is open for anyone to comment suggestions on, but that's my take: put your dwarves in a Karst-sinkhole cave system, give them a highly in demand resource like salt or guano, bees, and taters. Boom. Whole agriculture, economy and political scheme starters.

[generalllimaginesss]

"Would you still love me if-" "No, no I wouldn't."

with luke!!! definitely could see him not being able to sleep and just asking the reader in the middle of the night would you still questions, and she would say no after like the fifth question and pull luke closer to her and start brushing her hands through his curls and slowly getting him to fall back to sleep and telling yes i would still love you

This is short, but I thought it was cute! Currently watching the devils and flyers and I saw Luke in the penalty box for tripping I think….it was kinda funny ngl. Hope you enjoy!!

••

For some odd reason you had let Luke convince you that it would be a good idea to set up a tent in the backyard during the middle of summer. Why on earth he wanted to do this? There's no telling what his thought process was, but you agreed under the condition that he would let you drive the boat the next day on the lake.

The ground was hard, even with the cushion of the sleeping bag underneath the two of you. Nothing about this was enjoyable, but you'd do anything for Luke.

After an hour of Luke not shutting up, you were really about to lose it. He kept going on and on about the most random shit and he wasn't getting the hint that you wanted him to zip it. He was currently rambling on about random situations and if you'd still love him.

"What if I was three feet tall...would you love me still?"

"Yes," You internally groaned.

"Oh my God, what if I was allergic to animals. I know you love animals, but would you still love me if we couldn't have any?" He absentmindedly twirled his curls around his finger, snuggling closer to you.

"Yes, Luke. I would love still love you," Your tone was becoming increasingly annoyed, but Luke seemed to be oblivious.

"I would hate to be allergic to animals. Imagine not being able to have a dog," He trailed off.

"Have you seen that trend going around...the one where they ask somebody if they still would love them if they were a worm. Would you?" His voice was loud compared to the peaceful night, the only other thing that could be heard was the crickets somewhere off in the distant.

"I don't even know how to answer that," You rolled over, facing away from Luke.

"Would you still love me if-"

"No, no I wouldn't," Your tone was harsh, cutting easily through the night.

It was quiet for a few seconds, your sudden aggravation catching Luke by surprise. He kept peeking at you from the corner of his eye, wondering if you were going to say anything else.

His eyes quickly cut to the ceiling of the tent when he felt you rustling as you turned to face him and wrap your arms around him. You kissed his temple and ran your fingers through his hair, getting snagged on a couple of tangles he hadn't managed to brush out.

"I love you no matter what, but this hard ass ground and stuffy tent makes me want to drown myself in the lake. I'm doing it for you because I love you and this is something that you wanted. Please shut up and go to sleep so this will be over sooner," Your voiced was low and hoarse, but it caused him to let a belly laugh out.

"Yeah sleeping in here isn't quite like I expected. Wanna go inside?" He turned his head to look at you.

"I thought you'd never ask."

*

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*

*

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Lessons in Love.

Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 3615

Author's Note - hello gorgeous people, hope you're all doing well. writing this has made my heart so full, and I hope it makes you feel the same. requests are always open and more than encouraged!! currently working on a stunning jake seresin request that's just so lovely. i'm SO open to more jake requests, but also any marvel, top gun maverick, criminal minds, narcos and any others you have in mind!! just send them over, and I'll see what I can do. as always, so much love x

Masterlist. Requests.

“No way. How is that even possible?”

You look at the bewildered man in front of you and can’t help but smile.

“It’ll play anything you want it to. Anything in the world. Just ask it!” you encourage, beaming grin still plastered on your face.

“Alexa,” he says tentatively, “play Marvin Gaye.”

The first notes of Trouble Man begin to sound through your apartment, and his eyes light up. He’s looking at you like you’ve discovered something completely revolutionary.

You laugh – a real, genuine, delighted sound that flows through Bucky like a beam of light, illuminates his bones, makes his heart beat that little bit faster.

Grabbing your notebook, you delicately place a check next to Number 26 – voice-controlled devices. Number 27 is air fryers. Number 28 is Bluetooth. Number 29 is kindles and e-readers. Number 30 is Doordash. You’ve already checked off Spotify, and ATMs, and Google, and online banking, amongst many others. A list of things to better integrate Bucky into the 21st Century. A list of things to make him feel less like a man out of time. A list of things that allow you to spend all the time with him that you can.

A warm hand on your left hip and a cold one on your right pull you back into reality.

“Dance with me.” he murmurs. “Let me teach you something, for once.”

Before you can process his words, he’s gliding across the kitchen with you in his arms. Trouble Man isn’t playing anymore, instead replaced with something slower, richer. Bucky hasn’t taken his eyes off you, not even for a second. He’s watching your every move, every expression, every twitch of your lips. Reading you like a book.

You bring your hands to rest around his neck, and he relaxes into you. He’s leading, swaying you gently, occasionally twirling you like a ballerina in a music box. Perfectly effortless. He’s good at this.

The sun is setting, casting a warm orange hue across the kitchen. The light is reflecting onto your hair, making you glow, giving you a halo. Angelic, he thinks. My guardian angel.

You close the space between your bodies, wrapping your arms around his middle. Resting your head on his chest, he prays you can’t hear how his heart is working overtime. You shut your eyes, and breathe him in. He smells faintly like the Bakery, like sugar and coffee and cinnamon. The place that started it all.

　            ⋆ 　　 .  ✵　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 

When Bucky first moved into his apartment, he’d noticed the Bakery down the street immediately. The smell of cake and coffee drifted out of the lilac colored door, enticing him in. He resisted the urge, and told himself that he’d go inside tomorrow.

The next day, he stood outside of the red brick building, and read the menu on the noticeboard carefully. Then he reread it. And then read it again. Since when was coffee so complicated? And don’t even get him started on cake. He swore there was only a few types back in the forties. Now, there was at least fifty different kinds on this menu alone. He was overwhelmed. He thought he’d be able to walk into this Bakery, get some coffee, maybe something sweet, and leave content. Instead, he's stood on the sidewalk on the verge of a panic attack. Tomorrow, he thinks to himself. I’ll go in tomorrow.

Tomorrow never comes. Every day, he takes a walk, and purposely passes the building that he longs to go into. But somehow, he can never find the courage. He knows he’ll just look like an idiot if he walks in. He’ll look lost, and out of place, and everyone will laugh and mutter. Look, they’ll jeer, The Winter Soldier can’t even order a coffee.

And so, he spares himself the pain. Lets his feet carry him past, only slowing down slightly when he passes the lilac door. Every day for three months, he takes the same route. Willing himself to go in, to find the courage. It’s just coffee, he tells himself. Get a grip.

Until, one day, you decided to change his life, unknowingly. Or maybe knowingly. He’s still not sure.

He takes his usual path, and just as he gets to the lilac door – you’re there. Stood, waiting, soft smile on your face. Bucky panics, and wills his feet to move faster, to take him away from this inevitably awkward situation. You stop him before he can make a run for it.

“Hi.”

Oh. You’re talking to him. You’re staring into his soul with no judgment, or fear, or trepidation. You’re staring into his soul with gentleness. Kindness. Friendship. He’s terrified.

“Uh – hi.” He rubs the back of his neck. Nervous habit.

“So, uh, I hope this isn’t weird, or anything. But, I’ve been watching you walk past every day for like three months, and, well…” you trail off. Now you look nervous. “Actually, I haven’t really thought this far ahead. I just see you, and I wanted to… invite you in, I guess? Not that you need an invite, of course not, we’re open to everyone, but… you always look like you’re going to come in, and then you never do. And I’ve been telling myself for months that I should properly invite you in, but now I’m realising this is, uh, really weird. And I’m sorry.”

You still have that gentle smile on your face, but it’s more tentative now. A dusting of pink is making its way onto your cheeks, and Bucky thinks it might be his new favourite color.

It’s now that he really starts to take you in. Your hair is blowing slightly in the breeze, and the sleeves of your sweater are pulled down over your wrists, to try and keep the New York chill at bay. You have bright, inquisitive eyes – eyes that contain hope, love, laughter. You make him feel almost peaceful. No one makes him feel like that. Damn.

You’ve stepped closer to him now, to get out of the way of the customers making their way through the door. You smell like sugar, and coffee, and optimism. He wants to breathe you in, let you settle in his lungs. A comfortable warmth spreads through his chest.

He decides to take a gamble and bear his truth to you. He’s not sure why, but he trusts you. He doesn’t trust anyone, these days. But he trusts you.

“Can I be honest with you?”, he asks, looking at you expectantly. You’re almost expecting him to laugh in your face at the absurdity of it all. You nod anyway, signalling for him to continue.

“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to come in. But every time I try, I just, uh-” he stutters, and you can tell that his mind is screaming at him, sounding alarm bells, begging him to stop with all this sudden vulnerability.

“It’s overwhelming, right?” you ask, cutting him off. Saving him. Guardian angel.

You see the relief in his body at your question. His fists unclench, the tension leaves his shoulders. He smiles bashfully. Half grateful, half embarrassed. You get it.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. You giggle, and he’s convinced that the melodious sound will circle around in his mind forever, like the Earth orbiting the Sun.

You fiddle with the strings of your mint green apron, and look at him. You’re gazing at him so earnestly that he’s worried he might spontaneously combust.

“Are you busy tonight?” you ask suddenly, and he feels so dizzy he’s concerned momentarily that he’s going to pass out.

“Uh, no. I’m not,” he replies, managing to force the words out of his mouth.

“We close at 6, so meet me here at 7.”

You still have that sparkle in your eye. He couldn’t say no to you if he tried.

“Why?” he queries. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t absolutely petrified at the turn the conversation has taken.

“I want to show you around. Maybe make you a coffee, introduce you to some of my favourite things. You won’t believe how good my raspberry and white chocolate cookies are. They’re best sellers for a reason,” you beam at him.

Beaming. He wonders how he’s lived his whole life without your light illuminating his universe. Anywhere he goes without you is going to feel so dark, he thinks. How did I ever live like this?

He manages to pull himself together to smile back at you. His first genuine grin in God knows how long. He’s forgotten what joy feels like, and he’s almost drunk on it now.

He agrees to your plan, and you turn on your heel, about to make your way back inside.

“Wait!” he yells, louder than intended. “What’s your name?”

Your lips turn up into a smirk, mischief seeping out of your pores.

“Come back at 7 and find out.” You wink at him, and he has to take a few deep breaths in order to stay conscious. With that, you leave him alone on the sidewalk, where he’s silently thanking the universe for dropping you in his lap. Finally, he thinks. The cosmic punishment is over.

He does come back at 7. In fact, he’s stood outside waiting at 6:45. He can see you mopping the floor, singing as you go. His supersoldier hearing allows him to listen to your voice, even from this far away. He’s never been more grateful for the thing he used to call a curse. He’d be cursed every damn day if it meant he got to listen to you like this.

At 6:58, you appear at the lilac door, beckoning him to follow you inside. He knows that stepping over that threshold is going to change him fundamentally. He can’t wait.

Upon entering, he’s hit with the smell of cinnamon, sugar, coffee, and you. A beautiful mix of all three. Without a second thought, he reaches out with his right hand, and gently brushes some flour from your cheekbone.

“Bucky,” he murmurs.

You can’t tear your eyes away from him. Lips slightly parted, chest heaving, it takes you a minute to register that he spoke.

“What?” you ask, dazed by the handsome stranger with the steel blue eyes.

“My name,” he speaks softly. “It’s Bucky.”

You smile knowingly, and take a deep breath. It’s overwhelming, meeting someone that you know is going to be in your life forever. You’re both feeling the same, neither of you sure just quite what to do.

You grab his left hand, sighing quietly in relief at the feeling the cool metal against your heated skin. Leading him gently, he lets you guide him through the front of the store, until you stop behind the counter. He’s convinced he’d let you lead him anywhere, as long as he gets to feel your skin, soft and warm, on his. Grounding. Comforting. Easy.

“What kind of milk do you like?” you ask, fingers still intertwined with his.

“There’s more than one kind of milk?”

Bucky looks so disorientated, that you want to kiss the confused expression off his face. You chuckle softly, and the sound bounces off the metal in the room, twinkling around him.

“We have cows’ milk, oat milk, almond milk and soy milk.” You take one look at him, and decide to change course. “Let’s start with something less complex, actually. Any allergies I should know about?”

He shakes his head, mischievous grin beginning to form on his handsome face. There he is, you think. He’s with me.

“I’m going to make you a latte. It’s milky, and not too strong or too sweet. I think you’ll like it.”

She thinks I’ll like it, he muses. And he trusts you - whether it be with his life, or just a cup of coffee.

You reluctantly let go of his hand, and begin to flit around, gathering everything you need. Bucky leans back against the counter and watches carefully. He watches the way you bite your lip when you measure out the milk. He watches the way the steam from the coffee machine blows your hair back from your face gently. He watches the way you’re trying to make everything perfect. He can’t remember the last time someone paid attention to him like this. His mind is telling him to sprint in the opposite direction, to excuse himself and never come back. He’s terrified. But he stays. I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

You pull him from his thoughts by handing him the mug of warm coffee. He takes it from you carefully, and, without breaking eye contact, takes a sip. He smiles, really smiles. That’s all the validation you needed.

“Let me show you where we bake everything,” you say quietly, as if you’re afraid to burst this bubble of warmth and trust you’ve created. You’re scared he’s going to bolt if you give him the chance. So, you don’t. You take his hand once more, and guide him through to the kitchen.

“Have you done much baking in your life, Bucky?”

No, he thinks. But I will. I’ll bake everyday for the rest of my life if it means you’ll love me. If you’ll make me coffee and smile at me like that.

Instead, he answers cautiously.

“Not really. I’d like to, though.” He adds that last part bashfully. You smile back at him earnestly.

“Well then you’re in the right place,” you wink. He has the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees. To pray at your altar. To worship you like an angel sent down just for him. He’s surprised he’s still stood on two feet.

Before he can even register what’s happening, you’re beginning to create a mixture for your infamous cookies. You direct him to stir, while you add meticulously measured ingredients into the bowl.

“Put those arms to good use,” you’d smirked, and a blush had risen up to his cheeks almost instantly.

You click the radio on, and a soft, jazzy melody begins to drift through the room. You’re humming quietly, gliding around the kitchen, and he decides that this is it for him. You’re it for him. He could watch you do this every day and die a happy man.

Cookies baking in the oven, you jump up to sit on one of the counters. Bucky moves to stand in between your legs, still being careful to keep his distance ever so slightly. He knows if he touches you, he won’t ever want to let go.

“This wasn’t as scary as I thought it was going to be,” he confesses.

“What, me?” you tease.

“No. Coffee. And cookies,” he chuckles.

“Are there lots of things that you haven’t done because you find them scary?” you ask genuinely. You want to know him. All of him. Fears, wants, quirks. All of it.

“Yeah, actually. The world is so different now. I don’t really know where to start. It’s all terrifying, honestly,” he laughs. You laugh with him, but you know there’s truth to his words. You want to wrap your arms around him. He may be 6 foot tall and made of solid muscle and vibranium, but you want to protect him.

“Why don’t we do it together?”

A pause. He’s confused again.

“Do what together?”

“All of it. The learning. I’ll help you. Everything is less scary if you do it with someone else.”

It’s now that he’s convinced he’s dreaming. You can’t be real. Why would you be here, offering him everything, after all that he’s done? He has to remind himself. I deserve this. I deserve something good.

You can sense his trepidation, so you keep talking.

“Why don’t we make a list? You write down the things you want to learn about. I’ll write down other things I think you should know. You’ll be an expert on the 21st Century before long, Buck.”

Buck. The nickname sounds like a gift coming from your lips.

“Okay. Yeah. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

The anxiety is coming off him in waves. He’s panicking. You grab a hold of both of his hands, and place one on each of your legs, just above your knees. He steps in closer, and takes a breath. You’re warm, and you’re soft, and you’re love personified. He’s okay.

“Of course I don’t mind. I’m excited!” you assure him. Then, quieter, “It means I get to spend more time with you.”

He aims a beaming, megawatt smile in your direction. He feels as if his nerve endings are alight. You’ve awoken something in him. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel like this. To feel alive.

You reach over and grab your notebook. In it, you simply write his name, followed by a love heart. Then, underneath, you begin to list everything you can think of that you want to teach him. You hand the list to him, and he adds his own requests. Between you, you manage to write 50 different lessons.

“Perfect. We’ll start with number one, and work our way down. Are you busy tomorrow evening?”

He chuckles at your eagerness, but secretly, he can’t wait. He knows he’ll be counting down the hours until he can see you again.

“Nope, I’m not. You are my only priority, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment seeps into your skin, settles in your ribcage. You’re convinced it’ll warm you up from the inside out. If he keeps calling you sweetheart in that Brooklyn drawl of his, you’ll never be cold again.

　            ⋆ 　　 .  ✵　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 

You’re not sure if you’ve been swaying in your kitchen with Bucky to Marvin Gaye for 2 minutes or 2 hours. You’re comfortably settled into him, as if the space in his arms was made especially for you. Maybe it was.

Bucky’s voice breaks through the solitude.

“You know, I’ve created my own list,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, where he’s resting his head.

You pull back, still in his arms, to look at him carefully.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Read it, and tell me what you think.”

He untangles himself from you and crosses the room, to retrieve his leather-bound notebook. He returns, and places it carefully in your awaiting hands.

You flick open the cover to reveal the first page. You recognise his handwriting instantly. It’s spiralling, and imperfect, but so Bucky. At the top of the page, you spot the title – your name, with a love heart next to it. Exactly the same as you’d done for him when you’d originally created your list together.

Underneath your name, only one thing is written.

I love you.

You look up at him, to see him watching you, holding his breath. Neither of you know what to say. You know what you want to say. You want to tell him that you hope the list never ends, so you always have an excuse to spend time with him. You want to tell him that you watched him walk past the door of the Bakery every day for 3 months because you thought he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. You want to tell him that every time he looks at you, you feel as if you’re going to pass out. You want to tell him that you can recognise him anywhere, by touch or smell alone. Instead, you say,

“You do?”

That genuine, million dollar smile is back, etched on his face. He’s glowing, light radiating from his bones.

“Yes. I do. I think I’ve loved you ever since I saw you waiting for me on the doorstep of the Bakery that day.”

You think you might be floating. Levitating above ground, fuelled by love. You laugh.

“That’s the exact moment I fell in love with you.”

He laughs with you, then. You could get drunk off the sound.

“I didn’t think love at first sight was a real thing. I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses.

He’s convinced that the two of you have discovered something, invented it even. Because he doesn’t understand. If love feels like this, so all encompassing, so consuming – how does anyone live? Every moment of every day, Bucky thinks of you. How does anyone go to work? How does anyone ever feel sad, or angry, when love like this exists?

You drop the notebook and cross the room to him. He closes the gap, and throws his arms around you, spinning you in circles, laughing with joy. He sets you back on your feet, and tilts your chin up, so you’re looking into his steel blue eyes. You could drown in the ocean of his irises if he let you.

He leans down, and presses his lips to yours. He’s giving you all of the love, the joy, the laughter – everything good that he has ever felt, because of you – through his kiss. Your knees go weak, and he holds you up by your waist, his strong arms encircling your frame. He tastes like coffee, and sugar, and promises. You’ll never want to taste anything else.

Eventually, you break away for air. You gaze up at him, and he sees sunshine in your eyes. He’s not sure what he did to earn a love like this. You seem to sense his doubts creeping in, because you say, in the most assured voice he’s ever heard –

“No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you.”

I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

[weirdkpopgirl]

Stealing Kisses | Dream Reaction #14

Reaction: When their gf steals a kiss from them

Genre: Fluff, slight angst in some

Warnings: insecure thoughts, kinda suggestive, light making out in Jaemin's, kissing (obviously lol)

Word Count: ~3.1k

Author's Note: This idea came to me last week I think, and I thought it'd be fun to write. I think you guys like this type of stuff too lol. It was also nice to write something sweet and fluffy, a break from my recent stuff. Hope you all like it and thank you for reading ^ ^

P.S. I'm currently have a few fics I'm working on. But I'm going to try writing some shorter stories for the members and group things to fill up my second masterlist.

~ ~ ~

mark

The two of you were lying side by side on his bed, your gazes fixed on the ceiling. Mark was sharing his late-night thoughts, and you were listening attentively. Nights like these were a regular occurrence, mostly because Mark often had something weighing on his mind. Though it was usually just him recounting his busy day, tonight things seemed to carry a more serious tone.

“Sometimes, I’m just really not satisfied with myself,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “Like so many people are relying on me— with the company, 127 and Dream. Then there are the fans too, I don’t want to fail them. But no matter how much time and energy I put in, it’s not enough.”

You carefully processed your boyfriend’s concerns, trying to put yourself in his shoes. It was so easy to say he was just overthinking and shouldn’t worry so much. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to do so, given that you faced similar struggles. Those dismissive words weren’t what either of you needed to hear. Mark was undoubtedly the most hardworking person you knew, but you understood all too well the feeling of never quite doing enough.

Before speaking this time, you opted for a different approach of consolation. You shifted around to gently place your hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze towards you. With closed eyes, you leaned in to kiss him softly. Your lips moved slowly against his, hoping he could feel the comfort of your touch. Soon enough, Mark’s hand rested comfortably on your back, reciprocating the affection.

You stifled a light giggle as you pulled away, catching his slightly confused expression. Offering a small smile you used your thumb to caress his cheek reassuringly.

“You’re doing great, Mark,” you whispered sincerely. “You might not think so at times, but I’m always so proud of you.”

And it was those words that caused tears to gloss over Mark’s eyes. Then he was pulling you into a much-needed embrace, holding you tightly in his arms. You could feel the warmth of his smile as he mumbled, “Babe, I love you so much.”

Though you didn’t necessarily need to return the words for him to understand, you still said you loved him too. He deserved it, after all. He deserved every bit of love, understanding, and support. And you were more than willing to give it to him, wholeheartedly.

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renjun 

You emerged from the kitchen, holding a plate of freshly cut mango in your hand. Renjun was sitting at the table, fully absorbed in the watercolor painting in front of him. Seeing him use the paint set you got for his birthday brought a smile to your face. He was so engrossed in the activity that he almost didn’t hear you sit in the empty chair beside him.

Renjun momentarily glanced up from his artwork to greet you. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you replied quietly, carefully placing the plate of fruit on the table. The two of you shared a smile before his attention was on painting again.

For a moment, you paused to admire the way his focused expression softened his features, making him even more endearing in your eyes. You always found joy in watching your boyfriend immerse himself in the things he loved. Renjun consistently poured his heart and soul into everything he did, and that dedication was one of the many reasons your relationship flourished so beautifully. 

After a few minutes passed by of you silently observing the boy, you leaned into place a quick kiss on his cheek. His eyes widened in surprise, and a faint blush followed. 

“What was that for?” he asked, voice laced with curiosity.

You simply shrugged in response before confessing, “Just thought you looked cute.”

Renjun’s soft chuckle was like honey for your ears, and you couldn’t suppress a smile. “Oh is that so?” he teased, amusement twinkling in his eyes even as his gaze softened when he looked at you.

Now it was your turn to feel shy, heat naturally rushing to your face. Without a word, you reached for a slice of mango and lifted it to Renjun’s lips, quietly offering the yellow piece of fruit to him. Lucky for you, his eyes sparkled with fondness as he accepted the treat. 

However, he didn’t waste the chance to quickly steal a kiss from your lips, before taking a bite. Your eyes mirrored the surprise he had experienced earlier, and Renjun laughed now the tables had been turned. He savored the sweetness of the mango, just as he savored the sweet moment shared between the two of you.

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jeno 

You weren’t exactly expecting to return home to Jeno sprawled across your sofa. It was late at night, and you technically should have been back in your apartment much earlier. However, you got caught up in helping your friend rehearse for an audition and lost track of time. If you had known your boyfriend would be coming, you definitely would’ve gone home sooner.

 After quietly removing your shoes and shedding off your jacket, you carefully crossed the room to check the man resting on the couch. He looked so peaceful with his eyes blissfully shut and the pillow he held close to his chest. Yet, you couldn’t help but frown, thinking about how he must’ve been exhausted from work. While he never complained, you usually saw through his facade.

With a barely audible sigh, you fetched a cozy blanket to drape over him and tucked it snugly around his sleeping form. Leaning down, your lips pressed to his forehead and let your lips linger for a moment before pulling away. You straightened up, ready to start your nightly routine before heading to bed yourself. However, you froze when a warm hand tugged at your wrist. 

“Don’t go,” he murmured, almost sounding like a child begging his mom not to leave. 

The unexpected sound of his voice made your heart skip a beat. “Sorry for waking you up,” you apologized sheepishly, turning back to see him.

He shifted over a bit to give you some space, and you sat down beside him. Without thinking, your hand subconsciously moved to stroke his hair gently. He hummed at the sensation, appreciating any sort of affection from you.

“Don’t apologize. I liked it,” he said softly, leaning further into your touch. “Do you always kiss me when I’m asleep?”

“Sometimes,” you admitted quietly, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks.

A small pout formed on his lips in response. “You should just kiss me when I’m awake so I can give you one back.”

His words would’ve sounded playful if they hadn’t been spoken in such a sulky tone. But of course, you sort of expected this reaction from Jeno. Chuckling softly, your embarrassment gradually began to melt away.

Moving your hand to caress his face, you casually said, “Well you can give me one now if you’d like.”

With your permission, Jeno happily sat up to pull you closer for a kiss that made your head spin. Nonetheless, it was a tender moment that left you both with silly smiles as you parted. Afterward, you took his hand in yours and suggested you both move to the bedroom so he could sleep more comfortably.

Later, as you cuddled up together in bed, Jeno smiled to himself as he felt a rush of love he felt for you. Even though it was past one a.m., he still found himself falling for you all over again.

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haechan 

To say the least, Haechan was a little restless just chilling in his apartment with you. Usually, he liked being at home, especially with your company. But the original plan for today was to have a lovely date at Han River, which was forfeited due to the ongoing thunderstorm outside. He regretted not looking at the weather forecast beforehand.

So to cure his self-proclaimed “boredom,” Haechan proposed the idea of playing the pepero game. At first, you tried to decline, knowing that you’d be signing up for endless teasing and blushing on your part. That didn’t sound very fun to you.

“Oh come on, babe!” he pleaded, shaking the pepero box. “I won’t be annoying this time, promise.”

Knowing he was going to keep whining until you agreed, you reluctantly set aside the book you were using to ignore him. “Ugh, fine. But just this once!” you conceded, holding your pointer finger up as a warning.

Haechan grinned triumphantly as he tore open the bag inside the box to retrieve a Pepero stick. He moved to where you were sitting on the couch and lifted the chocolate-covered treat to your lips, gesturing to open it. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly complied and took the stick with your teeth. Haechan took hold of the other end, his eyes already sparkling with mischief.

As the two of you started nibbling, Haechan promptly contradicted his earlier promise of not being annoying. His eyes sparkled with mischief when you hesitated after he took the next bite, leaving only a few centimeters left. No matter how often you had been in close proximity with your boyfriend, there was something uniquely captivating about the way his warm tan skin was adorned with scattered moles, and how you could get lost in his deep brown eyes. Seeing those features up close always stirred a weirdly fluttery sensation in your heart.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy already, (Y/n),” he teased, his words slightly muffled by the long biscuit between his teeth. You merely glared at him in response, unwilling to admit how easily you were influenced by him.

To rebel, you decided to make a bold move of your own this time. Despite your racing heart, you seized the opportunity and bit the remaining piece, but not without planting a swift kiss on his lips. Haechan froze for a moment as you pulled away. A laugh escaped when you saw that he was too stunned to speak. Well, that was one way to shut him up.

Feigning innocence, you asked, “That’s what you wanted, am I wrong?”

It didn’t take long for a grin to spread across the boy’s lips. The initial shock of your unexpected kiss was replaced by a look of amusement. In the next moment, his right arm encircled your waist, drawing you close once more. You didn’t even have time to blush before his lips began to explore every exposed inch of your skin.

“You’re so bad for me,” he murmured between kisses, his fingers tangling your hair. “But I love it.”

You giggled, surrendering to the warmth of his affection. Maybe you’d be more inclined to indulge in games with Haechan now, knowing they’d end up like this.

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jaemin

In the solace of his apartment, Jaemin observed you interact with his cats in the living room. Usually, he’d be cooing and snapping a hundred pictures of you and his children. However, he wasn’t very amused at the moment.

Na Jaemin never thought he’d be jealous of his babies until he saw Luke rubbing against your leg and hopping into your lap. Your giggly response and the way you tenderly stroked your fingers through the feline’s soft white hair, certainly didn’t make him feel any better. Although he loved his pets dearly, seeing them snuggle up to you so easily made him feel a bit envious. 

“Hmmph, it seems like you’ve become more fond of Luke than your own boyfriend,” he scoffed, not even bothering to hide it. 

You looked up, noticing how he was resting his head in the palm of his hand, his elbow propped on the couch’s armrest. His body language fully displayed his discontent, and you tried not to laugh. Rolling your eyes, you returned Luke to his siblings and tugged the collar of Jaemin’s hoodie to pull him in for a sweet kiss. 

Any negative feelings dissipated instantly as his heart fluttered at the touch of your lips against his. Warmth spread through him like wildfire. But before he could reciprocate the kiss, you pulled away with a playful glint in your eyes.

“Does that make you happy?” you teased, gently pushing him back to give yourself some space.

Adoration shined over Jaemin’s eyes as he grinned. “Hm, I think another one would make me even happier,” he said, his voice husky with desire.

Before you could even respond this time, Jaemin was already leaning in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss that sent sparks flying between you. One of his hands rested on the nape of your neck, allowing him to press his lips harder against yours, while the other was placed firmly on your waist. Though you were initially caught off guard by the sudden intensity of the kiss, you decided to enjoy this moment of intimacy.

As you melted into each other’s arms, Jaemin was reminded once again of just how amazing it felt to be loved by you. Honestly, if he could have one wish, he’d probably wish to kiss you forever.

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chenle 

The steaming pot of oxtail soup stared up at you, and you lowered the heat to let it simmer some more. It was your first time cooking the Chinese soup. But recalling how your mom used to make it when you were younger, figuring it on your own hadn’t been too difficult. Although you were mostly confident in your culinary skills, you still wanted to be sure.

“Lele, can you come here for a sec?” you called out to your boyfriend who was probably playing some mobile game in the living room. 

You could hear rustling sounds, and soon the sound of slippers padding against the wooden floor reached your ears.  “Smells good babe,” he said, shuffling over to your side. 

Something about seeing Chenle waddle into the kitchen, wearing a black sweatshirt with the hood over his messy hair, made your heart strangely beat faster. But instead of ignoring that feeling like you usually did, you decided to act on it this time.

After dipping a spoon in the red broth, you raised the utensil to his mouth. “Taste it for me.”

Chenle complied, allowing you to feed him some of the soup. You tried to suppress a laugh as a smug yet impressed expression appeared on his face. However, before he could give you his feedback, you swiftly leaned in to give him a peck. 

The male froze for a moment at your actions. You chuckled softly and hugged his waist, as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. His eyes widened in surprise before the corner of his lips curled into a smirk. A part of him wanted to tease you for stepping out of your shy image, but he also found himself enjoying it a little too much. 

“Did you like it?” you asked, glancing up at him innocently.

Chenle’s cocky grin widened as he leaned in closer. His eyes twinkled with mischief, as he used his pointer finger to gently tilt your chin upward. “Wait, let me taste it again to just be sure,” he teased.

It didn’t take much for you to understand that he was not talking about the food. You simply smiled as his lips brushed against yours before he went all in. Shivers danced down your spine as you melted into the electrifying kiss. By the time you finally pulled apart, Chenle was smiling like an idiot.

“Hm, that was delicious,” he breathed, earning a playful smack on the shoulder from you. Even though you had started it, his comment was unnecessary in your opinion. Was he trying to kill you?

Trying to recover from your now flustered state, you returned your attention to the brewing pot on the stove. Chenle’s laugh rang through your ears, and then he was squeezing you into a backhug. It was those types of moments that reassured you that being with Chenle could never be boring.

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jisung 

Amidst the dark sky, the street lamps cast a soft, golden glow as you walked back to your apartment. Jisung strolled beside you, holding your hand securely. Occasionally, you smiled to yourself, thinking about how tonight had been another lovely date, filled with laughter, shared stories, and stolen glances that spoke volumes without a single word.

As you neared your apartment building, you felt Jisung’s fingers intertwined with yours tighten. A sense of reluctance washed over him, realizing that he wasn’t ready to say goodbye tonight yet. Your presence always brought Jisung a sense of warmth that made him the happiest when you were together. He wanted to experience that just a little while longer.

Pausing in front of your door, your eyes widened when you were pulled into a tight embrace. Jisung seemed clingier than usual this evening, but you honestly couldn’t complain. You returned the hug by wrapping your arms around his waist and letting your nose press against the oversized hoodie he was wearing. The scent of the perfume Renjun recently bought for him filled your senses. It wasn’t bad, you thought to yourself.

“I miss you already,” Jisung murmured, his chin relaxing against your head. 

The soft longing in his voice left your heart melting. These were the types of words you expected to read in texts from Jisung. So hearing them in person was even more touching. A smile tugged on your lips and you pulled away slightly to glance around, ensuring there were no cameras around. Once you confirmed there were no prying eyes that might stir trouble for either of you, you reached up on your tiptoes and pressed a quick but passionate kiss to Jisung’s lips.

He blinked in surprise, heat immediately rushing to his cheeks as the unexpected affection registered through his mind. Any kiss from you always made his heart flutter and left him wearing a shy smile. Nonetheless, witnessing the fondness in your eyes as you were blushing too was irresistible for Jisung.

Chuckling he moved his hand to gently pat your head. “Cute.”

You blushed a little at his words and squeezed in one last hug before he reluctantly released you to head inside. 

“I love you, Ji,” you said quietly, glancing back one last time to ensure he heard you. He exhaled shakily and said he loved you more.

There was an unspoken sadness shared between you, both feeling the weight of the parting. The two of you were uncertain of when or where you’d meet again. However, you found comfort in the knowledge that the love you had with Jisung was too strong to let too much time pass without seeing each other. In the meantime, you would cherish those precious memories together.

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previous masterlist -> new masterlist

[crushribbons]

please for the love of all things good if you could write a smut abt bestfriend!sebastian where he sneaks into our dorm room in the middle of the night (for the 5th time that week) because he can’t sleep 🙏 thank you in advance

ohhhh so you speak my love language helllll yeahhhh

(went a slightly dif direction teehee xx 18+ ONLY!)

---

"Is this going to be an every night type of thing?"

"Mm, yeah, every night that your feet are this warm."

Sebastian's own feet (or rather, icicles) slid under hers and she hissed and tried to yank the duvet away from him. He whined, cuddling closer to her and setting her skin on fire in the process.

She stammered, "B-back off, you hog," and Sebastian wrapped his arms tighter. His frame tucked so neatly around her, she hated how natural it felt. He was so fucking cold--why was sweat beading across her chest?

He was humming under his breath. "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy warty Hogwarts! Teach us something, please."

"Don't," she groaned. "It'll be in my head all week."

Silence settled between them. The room felt heavy and still, and she was keenly aware of how her heart would thump every time Sebastian shifted around. Her owl sighed a wispy trill. She strained her ears towards the door, hoping to determine whether those were footsteps shifting around downstairs. Sebastian sensed her train of thought.

"Your parents went to bed ages ago."

"They still might have heard the door."

"We are twenty-one years old," Sebastian laughed, husky, in her ear. Fuck. "And your mother seems to think we ought to be wed to one another or some similar type of nonsense."

Words, her brain urged her. Say words. Now!

"She just loves having company for the holidays. She'd want me to marry a grindylow if it told her that her apple crumble was scrumptious."

A huff of air from Sebastian's nose hit the back of her neck, and she didn't need to see her own reflection to know she was bright red. She wished on every star that she could make out through the gauzy curtains that he had worn a shirt to bed. He didn't seem nearly as affected as she was.

How much longer could they toe this line? Seeing each other almost every day after work, visiting each other's family homes for the holidays, falling asleep at each other's flats and, as a result, far too often, crawling into the same bed with the sometimes muttered excuse, "Warmer this way."

All he had to do was say the word, any word, and she'd make this whole thing a lot less...friendly.

"What are these garments you adorn yourself in, m'lady?" Sebastian grumbled as he felt the foreign material at her hips between his fingertips. She swallowed back the moan that rose in her throat. Silly, getting this hot and bothered over a little physical contact. Then his hands were sliding down her hips inquisitively and the moan slipped out without warning. She scrambled to recover.

"Silk," she replied, her voice raspy.

"Too fancy for me," Sebastian sighed, and he let his body crumple completely into hers, and it was heaven and bliss, and Sebastian had finally warmed up so she let herself melt into him. Everything was blurring pleasantly around the edges of her vision: the room, the outline of the sleeping tawny owl by the window, the boundary between her and her dear, best friend Sebastian, who at that very moment was snaking one hand away from her waist and pressing it down between his hips and the curve of her ass.

"What are you doing?" she asked, and when Sebastian tsk'ed in annoyance, she realized exactly what he was doing and humiliation flushed her cheeks.

He tried to pull away from her a few inches, and she whined, "Hey--you're just getting all warm!" but she felt him shake his head. She rolled over to face him and he closed his eyes when she raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm, uh." He squeezed his eyes tight shut, then dared to open one and peek at her. "I'm sorry. I kinda got..." He gestured down to his free hand, which was currently doing its best to conceal...

Her cunt throbbed, wetness pooling. He was hard, and the hand pressing his erection down couldn't cover it entirely. She felt her lip slide between her teeth. Sebastian's chest, splattered with freckles and a light layer of chestnut hair, was rising and falling too fast. They locked eyes.

"Should we?" He didn't finish the question. He didn't have to.

Should we? she thought. She didn't care.

They fucked, slow and tender and hot and fast, until the orangey glow of dawn kissed the room. When she rolled her head to the side, hair mussed all over her pillow, and saw the tiny light filtering through the window, she laughed to herself, but it was pathetically choked off when Sebastian's nose pushed against her clit in perfect little circles. Her hips arched and she used the handful of wavy hair in her hand to pull him deeper into her. He chuckled into her pussy, and the feeling of his smile pressed against her weeping heat had her riding his face until she eeked out a broken, "Fuck, Seb, baby!"

He shushed her, although his face was still buried inside her, occupied with cleaning every last drop from between her legs.

"Have you got one more for me, darling?" he purred over her fevered panting.

"N-no! I d--!" Sebastian covered her protestations with a sloppy kiss, lips still covered in her, and her body suddenly found the wherewithal to endure one more mind-bending orgasm. She moaned and pressed her chest to his and he laughed again.

His cock slipped in easily this time. The first two, three? Merlin, four? times, his size had been almost too much for her. But a groaned, "Fuck, so tight for me, just like I always dreamed..." was what ultimately pushed her to the edge the first time.

What pushed her to the edge this time were the desperate, rough thrusts he fucked up into her with, and the gleam in his eye as he panted, "You'll be lucky if I don't keep you in this fucking bed all day, shit! I'm...f--fuck, I'm coming!" He grabbed her hips and pumped once, twice, three more times.

"In-inside me," was all she could get out before her body hummed with a high-frequency, white-hot pressure, and she collapsed onto Sebastian's chest. He held her tight while he filled her up, and afterwards did not pull himself out while they caught their breath.

"Hey," Sebastian said suddenly, breaking the hazy quiet that had settled around their intertwined bodies.

"Mm?"

She felt him smile to himself. "Nothing."

[blindmagdalena]

imagine being hired by vought to be a sort of housekeeper to homelander, doing his laundry and cooking for him in his penthouse. he’d immediately grow to love having someone to come home to, and would automatically slip into husband mode whenever he finds them doing him some wifely act of service (conveniently ignoring the fact they’re paid to be there, of course)

ao3 link

Working for Vought, specifically Homelander, turns out to be an insanely simple gig. Typically, you never even see him. You're free to do your cleaning in peace, picking up after America's favorite hero. He rarely ever leaves a mess, but there's enough to keep you employed. Tidying up his towels, replacing his hygiene supplies and tooth brushes. You're trained specifically on how to clean his suits. You empty and stock the fridge. He goes through a lot of milk. You always make sure to get whole. He lodged a complaint the one time it was less than. You were told initially that your cooking services wouldn't be necessary. Homelander isn't known to be, well... much of an eater.

Still, you didn't want the food you stocked at the start to go bad, so one day you prepare a few meals and put them in containers in the fridge. You include little notes with instructions on how they should be reheated. You sign each one with a little heart simply because that's how you've always done it, and pin them to the fridge. You think nothing of it. Homelander is dumbstruck by it.

At first he's affronted that you would leave him cold food in his fridge and expect him to heat it up for himself, but there's something distinctly... loving about it. Coming home to his laundry clean and his shelves dusted never felt like that. It was nothing more than a reset, an automatic process that he didn't dedicate any thought to. But this? This is personal. This reminds him that a living, breathing person was in his home, tending to it, and that person... cooked him a meal, and left him a little note. With a heart.

The next morning you get a text that you will indeed be cooking for Homelander that evening! You're in the midst of it, staying later than you usually do, when he walks in the door. You aren't making anything fancy, just steak and mashed potatoes, but he sucks in a breath like he's inhaling the scent of a gourmet meal. His smile is broad and gleaming. It makes your heart skip a beat.

To your surprise, he introduces himself. He shakes your hand firmly, and holds your stare as you remember your manners and manage to spit out your own name. "Charmed," he says through that radiant smile, and you feel like he means it. His eyes are somehow much bluer in person. His gaze flickers to the stove, and he clicks his tongue. "Not to question your craft, but is this really enough for two?" Looking at the steak currently searing, you falter. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you having company? No one told me." "Well of course I'm having company, you silly goose. You're standing right here, aren't you?" He asks, putting his hands on his hips. It's cheesy, like a moment straight out of a sitcom, but you fluster anyways. This man has such presence to him.

"You... want me to eat with you?" You ask, bewildered.

"Be a shame to cook up a storm and not even feel the rain," he laughs, as if you're the one thinking strangely here. He's already gone to the fridge, and pulled out a second steak. He offers it out to you with that same charming television ready grin. "C'mon. I can hear your stomach growling."

Tentatively, you take the package from him. "Okay."

That night, and each night that follows, you cook Homelander a meal at the tail-end of your shift, and sit down to eat with him. It's surreal, but after the second night, it occurs to you that you've never once seen sign of him having company. There's never extra dishes, or towels. No remnants of a party in the trash. If he does have friends, they're certainly never here.

You can't help but wonder if he's lonely. The thought humanizes him from the larger than life image you had of him in your mind, and you have an easier and easier time engaging him in conversation. He's funny, if not a little strange. There are times when you don't really know how to respond to the things he says, but he often moves on quickly enough to keep things from being awkward.

Truth be told, you're starting to quite enjoy his company.

Homelander begins showing up earlier and earlier into your shifts. The next week, it's barely after 4:00pm when he strides through the door, greeting you with a chipper, "Heya!" and a little salute.

You turn off the vacuum, and despite being a little caught off guard, you smile at him. For the first time, you say, "Welcome home!"

For a second, you worry you've said something wrong. That smile slips off his face, and he stands frozen a touch too long in the doorway. However, before you can add an amendment, his lips stretch back out and he closes the door behind him. "Good to be home," he says. There's less of that showmanship in his voice, you think.

"I didn't know you'd be home so early, I haven't finished-" "Oh, don't mind me, you do your thing. Pretend I'm not even here," he insists, taking a seat on his couch.

You expect him to occupy himself in some way. A book, perhaps, or even just his cellphone. Instead, for the next hour you're keenly aware of the fact the only thing he seems to be entertaining himself with is you.

After that, you cook dinner as usual, and the two of you eat amidst pleasant, casual conversation. It's the same as any other night, and yet somehow this evening feels distinctly different. You can't name exactly what it is, but something has changed.

Homelander begins filling out your time with new requests; he's suddenly become quite fascinated with plants. You had mentioned to him before that you like to keep them, despite the work they take. Your shifts grow longer to account for your new tasks.

All the while, he's been more and more present during your shifts. Although he doesn't directly take or distract you from your chores, you're always keenly aware of of his gaze on you while you work. You try not to overthink it, but the weight of his attention is heavy nonetheless.

One day, you're sweeping up a mess of spilled dirt, struggling to maneuver around the legs of a piece of furniture, when Homelander hops up to intervene. "Let me get that for you, sweetheart," he says, lifting the entire cabinet up as if it weighed nothing at all.

You lose yourself for a moment, standing dumbfounded before abruptly remembering to sweep the dirt out from under it, your heart racing. Your mind keeps replaying the pet name, and with every echo of it, your cheeks feel redder. Homelander smiles, watching you all the while. The next day, you arrive to find an enormous bouquet of roses sitting in a vase on the kitchen counter. There's a note with your name on it, and a simple message: Thanks for all your hard work. Keep it up! The note is signed with Homelander's sprawling signature. Smiling widely to yourself, you tuck the note into your pocket, and lean in to inhale the sweet smell of the flowers. On another occasion, it's time to clean the blades of the ceiling fan in his room, but you can't find that darn step ladder anywhere. Homelander must hear the way you're shuffling around and muttering under your breath—you swear the man hears everything—because he steps in to check on you. "Everything alright in here?" He asks, peeking in from the doorway. "Oh, fine, fine, I just can't find my step ladder anywhere. Have you seen it?" You ask, feeling flustered. Getting put behind schedule never fails to trip a thread of anxiety in your chest. "Can't say I have," he answers, stepping inside. He looks around the room. "What'cha need it for?" "Ceiling fan. Uhm, it's okay, I'll get to it later, if that's alright with you? I'm sorry, I could have sworn I left that ladder-" You stop yourself, realizing Homelander is suddenly striding directly towards you. Uncertain, you begin to take a step back, but he's fast. He puts an arm around you, and without warning you're being hoisted up into his arms as easily as a doll.

"Up y'go," he says, supporting not only your weight with ease, but resting you snug against his chest. You squeeze your knees together, arms pulled in tight, as if making yourself tiny will somehow protect you from the embarrassing quicken of your breath, or the rampant beat of your heart. "There you go. Who needs a step ladder when you've got me?" He asks, grinning down at you with that familiar dazzling spread of pearly whites. His smile feels better suited to a Hollywood audience than this quiet little moment, but the only thing you can really focus on is the fresh, woodsy smell of his cologne. "Uhm, I-I still don't think I can reach-" You stop, noticing the ceiling fan is now within arms reach. "Oh." Looking down, your eyes widen. Neither of your feet are touching the ground. Instead, Homelander is hovering well above it, holding you adjacent to the fan. You can't help the nervous laughter that suddenly bubbles out of you. "Oh my god," you laugh, looking around. "You're flying!" "As I'm known to do from time to time," he says, voice dripping with satisfaction. His gloved fingers tap absently at your waist, basking in your awe over what is, to him, a wholly unremarkable feat. The sheer normalcy of you makes his every move seem a marvel. He savors your wonder. You're so enamored with the novelty of it, you remember belatedly why you're up here. Clearing your throat, you reach up with the duster, and gently spin the fan, collecting the strands of dust and the like that had gathered on each one. You try your damnedest to focus on that, and not the fact Homelander's face is less than a foot from yours. Out of your peripheral, you can see that his grin has softened into a content, absent smile. Your stomach does cartwheels as you finish dusting the fan, bringing the duster back down. You clear your throat again, pretending it's not a nervous habit. "All done, thank you," you say quietly, smiling back at him.

"Any time, sweetheart," Homelander purrs. There it is again, that coy little nickname that sends your mind into a tizzy. As if that weren't bad enough, he winks at you, floating gently back down to the ground. Your legs feel so much like jelly, you worry you'll collapse the moment you're on your feet. Luckily, even once he's set you down, he leaves a hand lingering on your back. "You got a thing with heights? Your heart's pounding," he points out, much to your mortification. You try to laugh it off. "Oh, no! No, just wasn't expecting it. I'm fine with heights," you say, fumbling with the duster for a second before slipping it back into the cover. "Good," Homelander responds, an oddly cryptic depth to his tone. His smile lingers. "That's good. Alrighty, I'll leave you to it," he says, tipping his head in a polite little nod before he heads for the door, leaving you to your own devices, and the rapid fluttering in your stomach. Later that same day, you're thoroughly perplexed when you spot the step ladder exactly where it's supposed to be, certain you had checked there a dozen times over.

Two weeks from the day you first shared a meal, he presents you with a gift after dinner. "Oh, sir, you shouldn't-" "Please, please! Don't be so formal. It's just a little thing," he says, waving his hand dismissively. "Y'know, to show my appreciation. You take such good care of me. Just wanted to return the favor." Butterflies swarm rampant in your gut as you tug loose the pretty red ribbon tied around the box. Uncertain of what to expect, you feel a measure of relief when you lift the lid, and see a lovely apron folded inside it. "You wear this print a lot, figured you could use something, you know, matchy. Feminine," he says, gesturing vaguely with his hand. "Your other one's seen better days."

You exhale a soft laugh, touching the fabric. It's soft beneath your fingers, and of excellent quality. The gift is a thoughtful one, and it feels appropriate, despite what the expensive looking wrapping made you think. "You like it?" He asks after a beat, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I do! Yes, thank you. It's very nice. I've enjoyed working for you, sir—" You stop when he points a finger at you, his brows raised, and you correct, "—Homelander." He smiles, dropping his hand. "And eating with you. I can't say any of my other clients cared whether or not I ate," you say, chuckling. You think you see his nose twitch strangely at the mention of your other clients.

"Right, well! C'mon, let's see how it looks," he says, taking you by the shoulders and guiding you over to the mirror near the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. Homelander takes the box from your hands and presents it to you, allowing you to lift the apron up and let it unfold. Odd, it feels a touch heavier than you expected. You sling it around your neck, but before you can reach back to tie it, Homelander has taken it upon himself to do it for you. He cinches it at your waist with a sharp little tug, grinning at you from over your shoulder as he meets your eye in the mirror. "Loooook at that, perfect fit," he purrs, tying the ends off. "It's beautiful, thank y—" Smoothing your hands down the front of it, you stop. There's something in the right pocket of the apron. Glancing up, Homelander has a mischievous glint to his expression, but his brows raise, and his lips curl down. He's playing dumb.

Curiously, you slip your hand into the pocket, and feel smooth velvet against your fingers. Wrapping your hand around a firm rectangle, you draw it out, and feel your stomach flip as you stare at the distinctly luxurious looking black box now in your hands. "Oh, geeze, totally forgot that was even in there," Homelander says. His tone is terribly unconvincing, but he does sound very pleased with himself. "Whelp, you've already accepted, so I guess it's yours now." "I—" "Go on," he urges, giving your shoulders a little shake. He's watching you eagerly through the mirror. "Open it up. It's all yours."

Swallowing, you crack the box back on it's hinges. Your jaw drops, your chest tightens. You stare at the shimmering three-stone drop diamond necklace in utter disbelief. You don't even feel Homelander let go of your shoulders, or hear him slide off and drop his gloves to the nearby table. "Oh my god," you whisper. You probably couldn't afford the box this thing was sold in, let alone a single stone on it. "I don't think I can accept this, sir," you say, slipping back into the habit of formality as your brain struggles to catch up to reality.

"Oop, too late for that," Homelander dismisses, plucking the delicate necklace up from the fabric it lay in. "Here, allow me," he says, ignoring your shellshock while he drapes the necklace against your skin, his bare fingers brushing the back of your neck as he gets it fastened.

Breathless, you tentatively touch the bottom diamond. Your mouth feels full of cotton, and your heart is racing. Is this really happening?

Meanwhile, Homelander grips your upper arms, beaming. "Look at you. You know what they say about diamonds; they're a girl's best friend," he laughs, those canines of his looking sharper than ever.

Giving your arms a squeeze, Homelander leans close to your ear. "Happy two weeks," he whispers, the heat of his breath on your neck prickling goosebumps all the way down your spine. "Thank you," you whisper back, pushing out a bewildered little smile.

Homelander lingers there a moment, the warmth of his hands on your arms seeping through the fabric of your shirt. His smile has relaxed some, and his gaze is slightly distant as he looks you up and down in the mirror. You see a flash of pink as he wets his bottom lip with his tongue. It isn't until you clear your throat that his eyes snap back up to yours, regaining presence of mind. "I should get going," you say gently. His fingers flex on your arms, and the corners of his mouth twitch. "Right," he says, lips pulling into a thin smile that doesn't reach his eyes. This is always his least favorite part of the night. With obvious reluctance, he drops his hands from your arms. "Right, ah, let me—" "Unless..." You interject, turning to face him. Homelander's brows shoot up to his hairline. He blinks. "Unless...?" "Unless you'd like me to stay," you say quietly, your stomach tying itself in knots. "Not as your housekeeper, but maybe as just... Company?"

"Company," he echoes, his parted lips slowly drawing into a smile. This one does reach his eyes. "We could watch a movie."

"I like movies," you say. The words sound dumb to you as soon as they leave your lips, but Homelander looks at you like you've just spun a beautiful sonnet. "Great, I have movies," he says, putting a hand on your lower back as he gestures you to the living room. His smile is broad now, eager and a touch boyish. You feel a little surge of endearment amidst the adrenaline. "What do you want to watch?" "Dealers choice," you say, slipping out of the apron before you take a seat at the couch. Homelander immediately busies himself with the television, flipping through Vought+'s enormous repertoire.

Still in a mild daze, you don't process any of the titles that fly by on the screen. Instead, you're hyper aware of the weight of the necklace hanging from your throat, and the lingering heat that Homelander's hands left on your skin.

So much for a simple gig.

[ollyissleppy]

a/n: had this on my mind for a bit too long and I went from a one-time thing to full ass work, will post the masterlist tomorrow probably (the taglist is open!) tags: he fell first she fell harder, kenma is a bit of a loser, starving artist x (semi) rich guy trope, gender neutral reader!!!, reader is called 'dude', no usage of y/n cw: alcohol, swearing

← prev. | m.list | next →

Kenma looks down at his almost empty glass. His head feels fuzzy due to all the alcohol that's currently in his system. He tries his best to stay quiet and prays his viewers or friends don't notice his lack of commentary. Kenma knows to play it safe when it comes to his drinking due to his secret-spilling tendencies. He tries to protect himself from the embarrassment on top of the headache he will feel tomorrow. He turns his attention to Bokuto, who's currently talking about how much he misses his dear boyfriend as he's finishing his drink. Bokuto shoves his glass right in front of Kenma's face so Kuroo, who's sat on streamers other side, can refill his drink. Kuroo then proceeds to do the same for Kenma, leaning closer to one of the monitors to read what the chat is saying. Even though he was trying his best, the messages were coming in way too quickly for Kuroo to be able to read them. Just as he was planning to give up, a donation came through:

@ username: $30 for kodzuken to finish the glass and share his thoughts.

Kuroo reads out loud the donation, and with a grin on his face, he turns to look at his childhood friend. It catches Bokuto's attention, and he also starts to look at Kenma, waiting for him to say something. 

'Shit' Kenma thinks, as now all of the attention is on him and not on the buffy men beside him. He should've made them wear compression shirts to further distract people from him. He thanks whatever high deity is currently looking over him to make sure he won't drink too quickly and still have control over his tongue.

"I'm not thinking." Kenma tries his best to avoid talking, even if it will make him look weird. He has too much on his mind and even more to loose. 

"No thoughts, nice." Bokuto chuckles softly as he zones out, staring at the wall behind one of the monitors. Kenma observes him for a bit just to see Bokuto blink too slowly for the streamers liking. 

"He might need a glass or two before we can make him talk," Kuroo says as he pours another glass for Kenma the moment his friend focuses on the volleyball player. 

As another round of drinks is poured, Kenma's judgement is getting more and more clouded. His tongue loosens up, which doesn't go unnoticed by his childhood friend. Kuroo, who was waiting for this moment, asks Kenma once again to share his thoughts. A few moments pass in silence before Kenma speaks up:

"I think I'm in love, and we don't even know each other." Kenma's head hangs low. 

"So what? That never stopped anyone!" Bokuto hates seeing any of his friends sad, so he tries to cheer Kenma up. He even went as far as putting an arm around his friend, which was quickly pushed away.

"It makes me feel so stupid, y'know? Like I know close to nothing about them. I don't know what they look like or which school they go to. I only know their name because I made a whole ass discord account just so I could see all the backstage stuff of their videos. I'm in love with someone who doesn't even know that I fucking exist. I'm in love with an illusion, for fucks sake!" Kenma raises the hand with the glass in it so high so quickly that he loses his balance, Kuroo's swift moves being the only thing saving him from falling over.

Bokuto shakes his head to agree while he still tries to process the words that just left Kenma's mouth. It takes him a minute before his own mind can come up with a thought of his own. When it finally does, Bokuto screams out: "WE SHOULD PLAY A GAME!"

"Yeah, let's pick something," Kuroo agrees, getting closer to the PC to look for something not too hard that they can play. Part of him hopes that people will not remember Kenma's confession and focus their attention on something funny that will happen while playing.

"Yeah, let's pick something," Kuroo agrees, getting closer to the PC to look for something not too

Kodzuken's viewers, on the other hand, didn't plan on letting this go. It was the first time their favourite streamer mentioned being interested in anyone, and they saw an opportunity. As Kuroo and Bokuto look for a game, chat is getting to work, with the stream now being nothing more than background noise.

★ FUNFACTS ❗️

• mattsun is one of kenma's mods I needed a connection between (name) and kenma and the wheel landed on him

• also I have no clue why the date is in Polish since my entire phone uses English (like yes I'm from Poland but I changed the language in my settings years ago)

• also I feel like Bokuto zones out a lot when drunk

• kenma ignored request for drinking stream for months but he ran out of ideas so he just did it in hopes that people will have better request next time

@boogiemansbitch @vaedotcom @bae-ashlynn

[herejusttosufferalong]

Pancake anon here with my thoughts on recent events:

My thoughts really haven't changed. I've said from the first post I made that there is going to be back and forth during this process. L is codependent and with A & L both having anxious attachment styles (confirmed by attachment anon) it isn't abnormal for them to easily fall back into things after an attempted break.

I don't think the shift we've been sensing over the past few weeks is wrong. I do still think things have been rocky and a possible attempted break was made. The key points that keep me here are: A not attending the wedding or at the pub the night of the big match, A posting an old photo from GQ the night of the wedding trying to insinuate she was there, the lack of A outing any locations or hints of L being around for weeks, L's unliking spree on insta, A's deactivation of her insta, continued shady happenings with DM, the legs in lap photo, and A's seemingly entry level new job when it seem's she was trying to go the influencer route.

I thought maybe the friends & A had finally stopped leaking L's location when with him, but now I think he hasn't been around much in the past few weeks because their posts during this trip are back to their normal.

Which brings us to current events. L is on a trip with his childhood best friend for his 30th birthday along with their respective girls. We've seen a couple very short clips of them. Everyone wants to overanalyze the way they are interacting. But here's the thing: A wouldn't still be around if L didn't enjoy her company. That has never been in question. He obviously does, which is why I think ending things will take some back and forth, which I think has already been in progress.

While I'm still very suspicious that A has her hands in things that are happening with DM and the pap walk, I don't think L has quite pieced it all together yet. I could also see him having very mixed feelings about the pap walk. On one hand, I don't think he was expecting it or was happy it was happening. But I could see him having some resentment towards the public's reaction to it. I could see him feeling like "I'm allowed to have a personal life and a girlfriend. I haven't done anything wrong." And he really hasn't.

Basically, what I've said before. L is dealing with a very complex situation right now. He's obviously in love with his bestie and costar. They had a whirlwind amazing 6 months together. They did some questionable things publicly (and who knows what privately) and everyone is analyzing his every move. He's also in a relationship with a girl that has now become very public. People are bullying her online which likely makes him feel protective. She is intertwined with his childhood best friend's girlfriend. He enjoys her company and she can give him a lot of attention during this confusing time. There is likely guilt toward her around the way he acted while on PR tour. And who knows what he's dealing with regarding N. Did she reject him or has she completely distanced herself? His behavior reads as someone who has had their heart broken and was trying to avoid processing it, then maybe did start processing it, and is now back to avoidance for a bit. It's a lot of things happening very quickly.

We are less than 2 months out from the London premiere and end of PR tour. I know that feels like ages ago, but it really isn't a ton of time to process such a complicated situation. His time with A serves a purpose, likely offering some comfort right now, but she isn't end game.

There will be more. But I still believe we are on course and things are moving in the right direction.

🥃

[al-of-the-stars]

poly vees! poly vees! where everyone loves eachother

anyways, the vee's find themselves attracted to an imp!reader (maybe only one or two at first). i love the upper class x lower class dynamic ajhs

the imp was originally just trying to be a thief in peace and rob them, but they get caught in the process.

gn! reader is more desirable but you can go for a fem or male reader if you want!!

-🍋 anon

"Stole our hearts. (and our money lol)"

A/n: Hi, 🍋! This reminded me a bit of Blitzo and Stolas from Helluva Boss lol Ik I said this before but I'm not too familiar with poly relationships so I'm so sorry if I got anything wrong! I did gn reader but I did mention reader wearing one of Velvette's dresses so I hope it doesn't make anyone uncomfortable! Hope you enjoy!!

Imps were never respected in the hell hierarchy. How ironic that the ones who fucked up enough to get sent here are treated better than the innocent demons who never even got a chance at life in the first place. This was the reason you decided to become a thief. If no one was willing to hire the lowlife so that you could make an honest living, you would steal to live a comfortable life. You weren't a Saint by any means but you weren't evil enough to steal from your own kind, only people who either deserved it or people who could afford to be stolen from. That includes overlords, and more specifically, your latest victims, the Vees. They were known for their social influence on the residents of hell, but you didn't really care much since overlords only live in the pride ring and imps usually residents in Imp City in the wrath ring. That, however, doesn't mean you won't travel there and take their shit. You were currently at Vee Tower late at night. Everyone was asleep so you had the perfect chance to do your job and quickly scurry off, or at least that's what you thought, You usually work fast but that doesn’t take into account the time constraint of Vox’s new security system. The moment you touched the vase, a loud alarm rang and a few seconds later, Vox and his tired partners came up to you. 

“What do you think you're doing,” Vox said, his business smile faltering. Shit. You underestimated this guy's inventions. “Oh.. uhhh..” you were at a loss for words. What were you even supposed to say? ‘Hey I was about to steal this vase that you own’? Absolutely not. Luckily for you, they didn't seem to mind as much as you thought they would. Little did you know that every time you had stolen from the Overlords, they had known you were there. Although they didn't exactly appreciate you stealing their belongings, they had taken a bit of a liking towards you. Even when being mischievous little shit, you still had a sort of charm. Like when you were stealing one of Vox's newest prototypes and spent 10 whole minutes trying to figure out what it did before giving up and furiously putting it in the bag. Or that time you stole one of Velvette's dresses and before putting it in the bag you put it on, just for funsies. She had to admit, you didn't look half bad in her designs, maybe when you finally date them, she can ask you to model for her. And the time you tried to steal one of the blankets from one of Val's studios, which surprisingly sell for a lot. You hurriedly put it in the bag, trying to touch it as little as possible, who knows what things people had done in those blankets. They slowly fell for you one by one, maybe next time, they can finally ask you out. Once they give you the world, you finally won't have to steal their things.