#okay back to Not Talking About Politics i go

[delicatebarness]

Extremely cracky but I am cackling at the thought of Thunderbolts endcredits(/Doomsday?) Bucky and pregnant reader hanging out with other heroes and the topic falls on everyone's hero suits and someone asks reader what she thinks of Bucky's new suit and she goes "Well, does this answer your question?" and points at her belly because he absolutey knocked her up when Bucky fucked her still wearing the fit.

If you want to make it smutty it can always include a flashback. 🤷‍♀️

in the suit?! | bucky barnes

Summary: ^^ Request

Warning: 18+ Minors DNI | Possible Thunderbolts* Spoilers | Smut | Detailed Open Door | Dirty Talk | Innuendos | Are we still saying John Walker as a warning? | Choking | Pregnant Reader | Mild Language | Alcohol Use | Suit Kink

Word Count: 965

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this. And getting to stare at clips of Bucky in the suit as references. Thank you. Ps-Gif has nothing to do with the one shot, but fuck.

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

Present:

Your post-mission debrief had somehow turned into a party—beers around a bonfire, with s’mores. Yes, someone had brought s’mores. It was Bob. You half suspected that he’d googled ‘what do friends do for fun?’ on the way back to the tower.

You were sitting on a lawn chair, mocktail one hand, the other absently rested on your stomach—the baby bump very much obvious at this point. Behind you, Bucky stood with one hand on your shoulder and his vibranium hand wrapped around a beer while he looked like he wanted to re-enter the void any time anyone got too loud.

And naturally, Yelena got loud.

“Okay, here’s the real question,” she called out, waving her beer bottle around the team like a sword. “Which one of the ‘new’ Avengers has the best suit?” 

“That’s so subjective.” Ava groaned.

“Exactly my point,” Yelena replied. “Subjectively, it’s me.”

Puffing out his chest, Alexei snapped. “I will ignore this insult and remind you of this iconic design!” 

“You literally squeak when you move,” Walker said. 

“You squeak emotionally.” Ava scoffed, taking a swig of her own beer bottle.

Walker pointed toward Bob. “What about him? Dude’s got like, three different fits.”

Bob smiled politely, yet his hand visibly trembled. “Thanks… I’m molecularly unstable.” 

Then suddenly, all eyes turned to Bucky.

Including yours. 

How could they not? The matte black suit. The red star. The arms. 

After a beat of silence, someone—you think it was Ava—looked at you and said: “What do you think of Barnes’ new suit?” 

Bucky froze. His hand tightened against your shoulder. Slowly you lowered your mocktail, raising your brows toward Ava.

“Well, Miss Starr,” you gave your swollen stomach a gentle double tap. “Does this answer your question?” 

In surprise, Yelena dropped her beer into the grass. Alexei smiled, until the realisation flashed over his eyes and he clutched his chest like he’d been shot. Bob blinked rapidly in your direction, as though he was running a diagnostics. Walker let out a bark-laugh, quickly turning it into a full wheeze. 

“No. Nooo,” He shook his head, the laughter still ringing through your ears. “Are you saying—Wait—in the suit?!” 

You smirked, and shrugged your shoulders slightly. “Didn’t even take the glove off.” 

Bucky’s eyes widened. 

Three Months Ago:

The safe house door slammed behind you. You barely crossed the entryway before Bucky had you pressed against the wall. His breath was hot, his body humming with some leftover tension from the mission.

He was still in his New Avengers suit—matte black kevlar clinging to his body like a sin, his dog tags swung with every move, and his arm plates clicked together.

You barely had time to catch a breath before his mouth crashed into yours. 

“Are you going to keep the suit on?” you murmured between kisses, fingers tracing the lining of the red star embroidered into his right arm. 

His teeth pulled at your bottom lip. “Are you complaining?” 

You weren’t.

Instead, you desperately tugged on his belt.

He growled.

And before you knew it, your legs were around his waist, his arm braced under your thighs. His vibranium hand reached up to cup your cheek, trailing his lips over your jaw with a ragged breath.

“You’ve been staring at me in this thing all damn day,” he hissed against the shell of your ear. “Did you think I didn’t notice, babygirl?” 

“Maybe–Maybe I wanted you to.”

In response, he ground his hips against you—still dressed, but the feel of him had you clenching around nothing. Bucky didn’t rush. He never did. He made you feel it. He made you feel him. And every ridge of his suit, the inches of him still layered between you.

Finally, he freed himself, and you let out a sharp gasp at your underwear being shoved aside. “Don’t hold back, sergeant.” you breathed, fingers entwining in his hair, pulling the strands. 

And he didn’t.

With one hard thrust, he was buried to the hilt—dragging out a broken moan from the back of your throat. He was rough, relentless. His hips snapped into you, driving you like he was proving a point.

He let your name fall from his lips. 

The suit creaked with every movement, and his gloved right hand tightened around your thigh. His grip was bruising. His left hand found your throat—firm, grounding. Just enough to make your vision blur—not enough to lose control.

“You take me so good, baby,” he panted. “Fuck—you’re so tight, can feel you everywhere.”

Unable to form words, you gasped. High-pitched, wrecked whines of: ‘Harder—’. Pushing your chest out, you felt his dog tags swing between your breasts with every thrust.

Bucky’s fingers found your clit—still gloved, the textured leather moved over your skin toward the sensitive nub—rubbing tight, delicious circles. 

You screamed his name.

Your body shuddered against him, vision turning white at the edges as your orgasm washed over you. Bucky’s hips stuttered, groaning deep from his chest as he spilled into you. His forehead pressed to yours. 

He didn’t let you go.

Breathing hard, you clung to him.

Present:

“So, just to confirm,” Walker continued to laugh. “Bucky Barnes, the Winter freaking Soldier, turned into a thirst trap and you said ‘yes’ without any hesitation?”

“I said ‘harder’, actually,” you corrected, taking your mocktail straw between your lips.

Bucky muttered under his breath, looking up to the sky, up to the stars. “You tried to, at least.” 

Yelena collapsed into Ava’s shoulder. “I never want to see that suit again.” 

“I’ll be seeing it again, tonight,” you said sweetly, standing up to make your way toward the bathroom. Patting Bucky’s chest as you pass. “Pizza first, though. I’ll need the carbs.” 

Bob blinked. “Should–Should I get more s’mores?”

“Yes, Bob,” the New Avengers said in unison.

___

[dannyriccsystem]

Hiii can we have No.3 and 50 for Lando? Thank youuu

I DON’T WANT TO LIE, I’VE BEEN RELYING ON YOU.

1K SPECIAL - LN4

Soft make out session + “I want your hands on me. You won’t break me, I promise.”

SUMMARY: Lando needs some help when it comes to touching you.

WORD COUNT: 1.1K

WARNINGS: Suggestive, fluff, slight comfort

FEATURING: Lando Norris x Reader

IT WAS A MINOR MISHAP. Not even something you thought twice about, but Lando’s been carrying it like a heavy weight on his shoulders. During an act of intimacy, your body had frightened him, bleeding upon penetration. You quickly explained it was a normal thing, but Lando politely excused himself and the night was over before it even started.

Your feelings weren’t hurt then, because you could understand being a little bit shaken, especially if you didn’t know that was something that happened from time to time. He was under the assumption he did something wrong— That he hurt you. So no, it didn’t make you feel bad, but the following days certainly did.

You could tell he was avoiding being too touchy with you again. It was a stark contrast in comparison to the way your relationship worked before. He used to always have his hands on you, desperate for your attention and praise. Now, he seemed distant, and it was really frustrating. It started to feel less like concern and more like disgust, and that wasn’t fair to you. You didn’t get to control things like that.

Your breaking point was during movie night. Every Tuesday, on his weeks off, you both stayed in to watch a movie of one of your’s choosing, alternating each week who got to pick. This week it was your decision. The lights were dimmed, the couch covered in blankets and pillows for extra comfort. You subconsciously threw your legs over his lap, not even thinking about it.

Normally he’d put one hand on your calf and rub slow circles into you. It was a comforting sensation, having him constantly and carefully caressing you. But tonight you felt him tense up and shift with discomfort, his hands lifting to rest on the back of the couch. He was acting like a goddamn virgin.

“Lando,” You snapped firmly as you pulled your legs back, sitting up on your knees. He jolted, making eye contact with you, his gaze uncertain. It wasn’t fair that he always looked so pretty, because you were meant to be scolding him when all you wanted to do was kiss his stupid face. You were deprived of his love. “What’s going on with you? Is this about the other night?”

He blinked slowly and you could practically see the gears turning in his head, looking to churn up some sort of excuse or dismissive answer. “What are you talking about?” Just like that, yep.

“You’ve clearly been avoiding me. Deny it all you want but there’s something different about you, and it’s making me feel shitty. You won’t touch me, you won’t kiss me, you barely hug me anymore.” You took a deep breath, needing some air after spouting all of that word vomit. “I just- Is it something I did?”

He softened, his hypothetical tail tucked between his legs. His hands were clasped over his lap while he gently twiddled his thumbs. “No,” He started with a huff. He broke apart his hold on himself, his right hand running through his hair while the left pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, you didn’t do anything.”

“Then what is causing this?”

“I’m just scared of hurting you,” He admitted quietly— Vulnerably. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, and your cold exterior melted away to harbor some sympathy. “I know it was natural, but I got to thinking about how rough I’ve been, and about how- how I could easily hurt you without meaning to, and that’s just…” He trailed off.

“Scary?” You finished for him. He looked at you, finally looked at you like he was actually listening, and he nodded. “It’s okay to be scared. You’re meant to trust me like I trust you.” You grabbed his calloused hand, smoothing it out with both of yours. He squeezed your palm. “But I know you’re not going to hurt me, and if you do, I know it’s not intentional. This was one little slip up— And, I mean, it wasn’t even really that.” You looked down at his hand in yours. “I don’t want things to stop because of that.”

Lando always felt like he wasn’t allowed to be weak around you. Around anyone, for that matter. He always had the media on his back, reminding him time and time again that he shouldn’t be so frail mentally. He needed to toughen up to have that champion mindset, but he couldn’t help the way his brain was constantly tearing itself apart.

But right now, it was a breakthrough moment. You were too sweet and too genuine, because the way you looked at him, like he hung the moon and the stars for you, made his heart thunder in his chest at a nearly concerning rate. Not even racing kicked up his adrenaline this fast.

“Then… Will you show me how?” His query was vague. You tilted your head and that prompted him to follow up, “Show me how to love you.”

You grinned, and it sent that sinking feeling in his chest packing. With that beautiful smile of yours, it was impossible for him not to mirror it. “Of course I will.” You pushed yourself up, climbing over onto his lap. He was still tense, and it was obvious, but you figured it would melt away as you went on.

You placed his hands on your own hips, firmly pressing them down to let him know you were fine. His fingers curled in slightly, hot palms pressed against your shirt. “Good,” You praised softly. You leaned in for a kiss, your lips connecting in a sensual peck. That’s how it began, a series of one peck after another, followed by noisy ‘smooches’.

But it started to develop further, where he’d have to pull back to gasp for air before diving back against your mouth for more. His hands had fallen back, and his actions were still extra tender. There was a barrier between you two, and it was obvious. Longer kisses didn’t equate to passion.

“Touch me, Lan,” You muttered against his plush lips whilst grabbing his wrists, almost aggressively. You placed his hands right on your ass, holding them there. “You’re not gonna hurt me— I’m not fragile.”

When you looked at him, you could tell he wanted to argue his insecurities again. So instead you just didn’t give him the opportunity to. You crashed into osculation again, releasing your hold on him. This time he kept his hands there, firmly gripping your backside.

“I love you,” he mumbled between kisses, replacing his air with words. He was smiling against you, the passion in his words evident.

You ran your fingers through his curls, gripping the soft locks to pull him further into you. He chuckled at your desperation, making your cheeks flush with warmth. Yes, this was what it should have been like. “I love you too,” You mused, shortly followed by, “I hope it stays that way forever.”

[nyeddleblog]

SAW THAT YOU CANNOT GET BOB OUT OF YOUR HEAD MAY I REQUEST A MEET CUTE FIC WHERE READER IS A GIRLBOSS CORPORATE GIRLIE AND BOB IS WELL...BOB

Yes, but since I'm at work in a 10 hour shift, we'll forget about the cutesy aesthetic shit I usually do for my fics.

Warnings: Female presenting reader, use of reality warping powers, in a probably inaccurate way, written from my phone and not proof read.

--

You liked your job. Well, kind of. You liked getting paid for something that you actually did pretty well, and you liked that you could live from it. Yeah, it was a annoying having to walk around New York City taking care that your tights weren't ripped or that your high heels wouldn't give out for the next few blocks. Skirt always impecable, just below the knee. Blouse silky and not revealing too much cleavage. But the paycheck... Oh, the paycheck. And your boss was an okay guy!

You've dealt with all kinds of people before; the annoying ones, the narcisistic ones, the perverts... For someone your age, it was difficult to achieve the tranquility you had.

So you entered the coffee shop, mindlessly looking through your phone. It was a bit more expensive than others, usually empty around this hour. The cashier gave you a nod, urging you to just take a seat. You had paid a bit extra last time, since they didn't have any change; that meant, coffee was on the house. It made you smile, making a mental note to tip them well when you left.

Your heels guided you through the usual path, too invested on the screen to look up as you sat down. Your boss wanted something urgently, something you could actually do through your phone. It took you around five minutes to write down the email you needed to send to an investor, and another one to communicate that it was done. Only then, you looked up.

There was a guy sitting there. Considering his half eaten muffin and the stains on his cup, he had been sitting there before you even arrived. And he looked so troubled too, face flushed as he tried his best not to look at you. You blushed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry—"

But you looked around and frowned. This was usually where you sat and it shouldn't have mattered if it weren't for the amount of people around. Why the fuck was it so full? This had never happened before.

Your eyes reached a table were one of your colleagues sat. You wrinkled your nose; he was probably going to talk to you about work, so your eyes went back to the guy in front of you, softening.

"Is it okay if I stay here? If only until they bring me my coffee, then I can just take it to go."

He looked at you then, pink cheeks and a bit unsure if you were talking to him. You maintained eye contact, an easy smile on your lips as you awaited his answer.

"Y-yeah, no... No problem"

Your smile widened then, but you didn't say more. You knew how annoying it was when someone talked to you while you were minding your own business. It was the reason why you stayed there and didn't go to your colleague's table, after all.

Then the usual waitress brought you your coffee, in a mug. You let out an apologetic sigh, knowing that you'd have to ask her if she could change it to a plastic cup, probably ruining all of the barista's work in the process, but right before you spoke, he interrupted you.

"It's... It's okay. You don't need to, uh, leave." It came out awkwardly, almost strangled. The waitress looked at the both of you with a smile as she came back behind the counter, absent-minded of the position she just put the both of you in, "I don't mind the company. I'm about to finish anyways."

"Oh, well thank you" you answered politely. He truly didn't seem like he was about to finish, considering how slowly he was eating his muffin. And he was kind of cute, you realized. Messy brown hair, and adorable blue eyes. But you wouldn't stare.

You let your coffee air for a little bit, not wanting to burn your tongue. He was reading a book, you noticed; he looked invested. It was probably why he didn't mind your presence, despite being an obviously shy person. His fingers picking at the muffin and slowly dragging the bite into his mouth.

You brought the mug to your lips as you stared at the pastry. You should have asked for one of those, really, it looked tasty. Red velvet, your favorite, fuck. You were oggling at the muffin then, drinking your coffee and slowly zoning out. So many things to do, the meeting that afternoon. And tomorrow, too. Oh, how you hated meetings.

Your eyes slowly brought you back to reality as they slowly came up to his face. He was staring at you, probably because you were pondering to the reality where his muffin was yours. Either way, it startled you and a small drop of coffee fell into your impeccably white blouse.

Shit.

You let the mug on the table immediately, assessing the damage. It expanded quickly on the collar, leaving an ugly stain that you wouldn't be able to get rid of before the meeting. You groaned dramatically, covering your face with your hands.

It had to be the meeting with the one investor that always stared at your tits. That one unfiltered asshole that fucking humilliated women when they had chipped nails or a run on their stockings.

He'll say something, and you'll answer, and he'll find you rude, and then you'll show him how rude you can actually be and... You'll lose your job.

"They say putting some sugar on it may help get rid of the stain" he stuttered out, in front of you. You frowned, almost forgetting that he was still there in the first place and barely understanding what he was talking about.

"What?"

"T-The stain..." He pointed at your collar with a packet of sugar in his hand. Your frown losened as he left it on the table, near enough for you to reach, "It may be worth a shot?"

"It may be" you repeated in a murmur, staring down at the packet.

It sounded like bullshit, but you were desperate and the sugar couldn't possibly make it worse than it already was, so you opened the packet and poured it on the stain, looking defeated as it clinged to it. You rubbed it for a few seconds, unable to see how the eyes of the man in front of you briefly lit up bright golden. Then, the sugar turned brown and you wiped it away, amazed by the result.

"Hey, it worked!" you exclaimed in excitement, looking up at him, "I can't believe it!"

Your bright smile made his cheeks heat up, and he avoided your eyes as he gave you a sheepish smile back, shrugging.

"That was ama...! What was your name?" you interrupted yourself to ask. As he replied, you continued "That was amazing, Bob, truly. You saved my job and made my day!"

"I-It's nothing."

You braced yourself, for what you were about to say, unable to hide the smile of awe in your lips, "Well, Bob. It's everything to me," Maybe a bit of an exaggeration, you were dramatic like that, but it was honest nonetheless "So, could I buy you a muffin sometime?"

His pink cheeks turned red as he stuttered over his reply, and by the time you finished your coffee, his number was already saved in your phone.

You stood up, giving him sweet smile and putting the promised tip in the jar before leaving.

He stared at you until you were out of view and you didn't know why, but it made your heart beat a tiny bit faster.

[ririright]

hi my new favorite writer 🧚🏼‍♀️🫶🏼

i know you're booked and busy bc you're pumping out post after post and ily for it

could you do hayden x youngwife!reader headcanons with all things pregnancy and having a newborn baby boy

(including what that might realistically be like to become a father for the second time, this late in life.)

He’s Nervous but Excited.

At 44, he’s got a calm, steady confidence about most things—except becoming a dad again.

He worries about keeping up with a newborn, about sleepless nights, about doing it all “right.”

“I just… I hope I’m not too old to be the fun dad.”

But when he feels the baby kick under your palm, his face lights up with pure joy.

“Oh my—did you feel that? They’re already so strong.”

He’s Relentlessly Protective.

He’s already experienced parenthood once, so his instincts are even sharper this time.

Won’t let you carry anything heavy, even if it’s just a grocery bag.

Hovers around you, making sure you’re comfortable, fed, and resting.

Will absolutely carry you if he thinks you’re overexerting yourself.

Has a habit of placing his hand on your lower back whenever you’re out in public, guiding you protectively.

“Easy, babe. Careful on that step.”

He Finds Himself More Attached Than Ever.

You’ve always been his safe place, but now you’re his whole world.

Hugs last longer, kisses are deeper, and he’s always looking for an excuse to be close.

Gets almost clingy, following you from room to room just to be near you.

“Can I stay here while you’re in the bath? Just… wanna keep you company.”

He’s Thoughtful About Your Age Difference.

Sometimes worries that you’ll miss out on “young parent” experiences because of his age.

“If you ever feel like I’m too old to keep up, you have to tell me.”

You reassure him that he’s the perfect partner and dad, and he melts.

Secretly, he’s grateful for your youth—it makes him feel alive and adventurous.

He Finds Comfort in Routine with His Daughter.

Balances co-parenting with his ex by keeping everything stable for his daughter.

Stays consistent with her pick-up and drop-off schedule.

Still takes her out for their father-daughter movie nights.

Makes sure she knows she’s loved and never feels replaced.

He’s Your Rock When You’re Anxious.

If you have any worries about being a younger mom, he’s quick to comfort you.

“We’ve got this, okay? I’ve done it before, but it’s going to be even better with you.”

Always insists that you’re going to be an incredible mom.

He’s Got a Sharp Radar for Cameras.

The second he spots paparazzi, his expression subtly changes—calm but guarded.

He instinctively steps in front of you, a gentle, protective shield.

“Sorry, folks. No pictures today.”

If they ask about you or the baby, he smiles politely but doesn’t engage.

“I keep my family life private. Thanks for understanding.”

He Has a Polite “Shut-Down” Response Ready.

If paparazzi catch him outside the grocery store:

“Hey, Hayden! How’s the family?”

“They’re great, thanks. Hope you’re having a good day.”

Keeps walking, doesn’t give them a chance to pry.

He always stays polite, but his tone makes it clear there’s no room for follow-up.

He Loves You More for Understanding His Privacy Obsession.

Sometimes apologizes for being so paranoid. “I’m sorry if I’m overprotective.”

You always assure him you understand, and he smiles, squeezing your hand.

“I just… I can’t lose this. You’re my peace.”

If His Ex Hints at His Private Life on Her Podcast, He’s Quick to Act.

Gives her a calm, firm call: “I asked you not to talk about me. Please respect that.”

If she ever tries to twist it as a “joke,” he doesn’t laugh.

“I’m serious. My family’s privacy isn’t negotiable.”

He Turns the Guest Room into the Perfect Nursery.

Measures the room three times before setting up the crib—he wants everything perfectly centered.

Builds the crib himself, reading the instructions like he’s assembling a Lego Star Wars set.

Adds soft, neutral tones but sneaks in a few Star Wars plushies (a tiny Yoda, a baby Ewok).

Installs blackout curtains because he knows how important sleep is for a baby.

Places a comfy, homemade rocking chair by the window for those late-night feedings, already picturing you there.

Baby-Proofs Everything.

Crawls around the house on his hands and knees to check for sharp corners or dangerous items.

Adds soft bumpers to the coffee table and outlet covers to every plug.

Adjusts the temperature settings on the house thermostat to ensure it’s always comfortable.

Even goes so far as to get a water filtration system for the cleanest bath water.

The Farm Gets a ‘Baby-Safe’ Makeover.

Fixes all the fencing to make sure no animals wander too close to the house.

Moves the rabbit hutch farther from the main house to avoid too much noise.

Mows the grass regularly and adds a flower garden just outside the nursery window.

Builds a little wooden bench with your name and the baby’s name carved into it—his “storytime spot.”

Starts clearing a small, fenced section of the farm as a future “play area” for when the baby can walk.

Packs the Ultimate Hospital Bag.

Makes a list and packs it two months early: your comfy pajamas, slippers, chargers, snacks, toiletries.

Adds a Bluetooth speaker for calming music, a photo of his daughter (for luck), and his favorite cozy hoodie.

Packs a separate bag for the baby—tiny onesies, socks, a baby blanket, and a little stuffed animal.

Keeps the bag by the door, double-checking it every week.

Gets the Animals Used to Baby Sounds.

Starts playing soft baby giggles and cries on his phone around the animals to get them used to it.

Spends extra time with the dogs, teaching them to be gentle around your bump.

The border collies are already herding everything away from the house, trying to “protect” you.

He sneaks the baby’s blanket outside so the animals can get familiar with the scent.

Reminds Himself Not to Overdo It.

Occasionally has to be pulled away by you when he gets too carried away fixing something.

You laugh when you catch him adjusting the nursery wallpaper at 2 a.m.

“Hayden, it’s perfect. Come to bed.”

He blushes, rubbing his neck. “I just… I want it to be perfect for them.”

He Talks to the Baby Through Your Belly.

Whenever you’re lying on the couch, he leans down to whisper to your belly.

“Hey, little one. It’s me, Daddy. You being good to your mom in there?”

Tells your belly stories about the farm, his favorite Star Wars movies, and how excited he is.

If the baby kicks, he acts like they’re responding. “Oh, you agree? Good taste.”

He Sees You as the Center of His Universe.

Can’t imagine life without you now that you’re having his child.

Feels this overwhelming sense of purpose—to protect, love, and cherish you.

Sometimes just watches you sleep, his hand resting gently on your bump.

“You’re my everything. Both of you.”

Author’s Note:

I tried to make this as realistic as possible. I’m not completely satisfied with what I wrote, but I didn’t want to keep you waiting. I’ll probably rewrite this idea as a mini-series featuring my character, Barron—Hayden’s son in all the fics I’ve been writing :)

[noiranamnesis]

There were small things in life which gave Marinette joy: animals, melodies, Tylio’s hands in her hair, pâtisserie…and hosting. So long as there were ingredients to prepare and conversation to be had, she found herself content. It was in the moments when her English improved most- casual, flowing chats where she could stretch into nuance and pick up regional phrases. And yet, there was always something which managed to trip her up: a turn of phrase, a pun, a cultural idiom. When it happened, she instinctively leaned on the nearest familiar anchor, whether Nadja or Tylio.

As far as guests went, she found Jeremy quite pleasant. Polite. Attentive. He was easy to talk to and not shy about carrying a conversation, which certainly helped. His knowledge of her prior work, particularly her French filmography, caught her a little off guard, but once he touched on his interest in French cinema, it made more sense. She had smiled and asked if he’d ever consider working in France someday. If he was serious, she’d be happy to pass his name along to the right people once she was home again. That led to his next question: Did she plan to stay in Los Angeles long term? Marinette hesitated, then admitted the truth. While she was grateful for her projects in the U.S., ideally she would like to alternate- one project here, one in France. But long term? Her home was France.

Jeremy didn’t react outwardly, but inside, the confession sent him spiraling. Half of him had been counting on her staying in America. It made the logistics easier. But hearing she planned to return, possibly permanently, recalibrated everything. It wasn’t a dealbreaker, he told himself. Just a challenge. Besides, he was already learning French. How else would he speak to her family? To their future children? Did she want kids? She must. With the way she hosted. With the way she cooked. It was housewife-coded, absolutely. Though a housewife implied a marriage, and Jeremy couldn’t picture one between her and Tylio. Sure, the man was less of a hardass with her and seemed to defer to her, which wasn’t nothing, but it was the bare minimum. She was half his age and rich- of course he’d go along with her. He’d be an idiot not to. But it didn’t mean he was the one for her. Marinette, while beautiful and welcoming, was undoubtedly naive. And naive people needed protecting. He wasn’t sure Tylio could offer that. Not really, considering he was in their home, sitting here like it was normal. These thoughts looped in Jeremy’s mind as they worked through the reshoot notes. The talk was dry, the planning tedious, but it offered more glimpses into who Marinette was. He learned she didn’t care for wine, but adored Limoncello. That she drank it with surprising consistency. That her tolerance was lower than her confidence suggested…All of which was useful. All of it confirmed what he already suspected: she needed someone to look after her. Someone who understood her and noticed the things she missed.

When the lighter slipped from Jeremy’s grasp, Marinette was already moving, kneeling to retrieve it. “Non, non- it’s okay.” Her hand brushed his, returning the lighter, but there was a flicker of worry in her eyes. While she was tipsy, she was no stranger to it, plus Tylio was used to looking after her when she got this way. Jeremy, however, was different. He was a guest. Her guest. “Tylio, I think I gave him too much.” She glanced over her shoulder, then back to Jeremy. “Let’s get you some food and water, okay?” She rose to her feet, switching to French without a second thought. “Est-ce que tu peux lui prendre quelque chose dans le frigo? Quelque chose avec du pain et des protéines?” Her fingers pressed lightly to the back of Jeremy’s neck. He felt overheated, but what she didn’t realize was it was her who was flushed, not him. “Maybe I should not have given you the limoncello. I’m sorry.”

When Tylio returned, Jeremy accepted the water with a grateful nod, nursing it in slow, deliberate sips while Marinette fluttered about. She looked adorable like this: cheeks flushed, bright blue eyes flicking around, dipping in and out of her mother tongue…She was fussing now, insisting he stay the night in one of the guest rooms. He caught only fragments, but the intention was clear. And yet, despite the concern lacing her words, she kept glancing toward Tylio for confirmation. As though she needed his blessing. It was her home. Her invitation. Why did she keep deferring? “I think this has been enough,” Jeremy tried, managing a weak chuckle as he moved to rise. “Really, I can just-” But she was already at his side, her hand resting on his shoulder. The warmth of it, the softness of her smile…made his chest tighten in a way that was hard to shake. She didn’t have a clue what she was doing to him. Of course she didn’t and that was half the beauty in this.

“Non, non. You stay here,” she said softly, reaching for a piece of toast from the plate. “Finish this first.” Her voice was gentle, coaxing, as she held it up to him. “Then you go to the guest room, d’accord? It has a private bathroom- you can take a shower, rest. I even have pajamas you can borrow.” She placed the toast into his hand with a little smile, already stepping away, her focus shifting to Tylio. Though there was a small hush to her tone as she reached him, smoothing his shirt where it rested against his shoulders. “Ça va pour toi, si Jeremy reste ici ce soir?” she asked gently, light hues lifting to meet his. “Je crois que je lui ai donné trop de limoncello…Je me sentirais mieux s’il ne conduisait pas.”

Tylio walked through the door first, with papers in hand, reviewing his own notes. He had Jeremy write them down while he drove them here but reading them back now, he almost wondered whether Jeremy had paid attention because half of the things he said were missing. It was unusual, but Tylio chalked Jeremy's distraction up to the fact that they were nearing the weekend. Besides, his colleague might be a little bit starstruck. It was not unusual for even the people who worked with her to be impressed with Marinette's fame. Usually it went away after a while, when they realized that she was not just a star but also a person.

'Bonsoir!'

Marinette's voice greeted them from the kitchen and Tylio finally looked up, noticing the familiar scent of Marinette's cooking. As always, it brought a smile to his face and he finally closed the folder in his hands, gravitating toward the kitchen doorway. He halted there when she told him to go shower first, provoking a small laugh but no defense from him because she had assumed correctly that he'd planned on continuing work right away. "Laisse-moi au moins te regarder un moment", he replied, removing his coat while Jeremy appeared beside him in the doorway. Also watching.

Standing there in the kitchen, carefully preparing a delicious meal for the three of them, Marinette almost looked more beautiful than when she was all dolled up for the movie. Jeremy smiled. In a way, she was doing it for him—his presence in her apartment tonight was not planned, he was the reason she had to adjust the meal she was making. And she was putting so much effort into it. He was a bit shocked, it was hard to find women nowadays who knew how to cook, especially younger ones.

Tylio turned after a few seconds, handing the folder over to Jeremy. "I'll be right back, I think I have an idea for how we can do a reshoot that doesn't take up another three days", Jeremy was told, but he barely heard Tylio anymore because now he was focused entirely on Marinette. Tylio might as well have been a ghost, passing him by in the hallway, silently disappearing into some bathroom somewhere. And then it was just him and Marinette in the kitchen. Who knew he would get into her kitchen so soon?

He chatted with her, complimenting her dedication to the meal she was making. Complimenting more things about her, although she didn't know it. He told her that he hadn't yet asked out the girl and she told him in no uncertain words, that he shouldn't wait too long. Was she flirting with him? Hinting, maybe? Had she told Tylio to go take a shower on purpose, so the two of them could have a moment alone? Jeremy put down the folder on the kitchen island. It remained ignored for now, while he took a seat on one of the chairs. Drinking. Watching. "Y'know, I can help set the table", he offered, but as he turned around to glance into the living room, he realized it was already set. She was on top of everything. In the time it took him and Tylio to finish up at work and drive here, she had gone to the store, then gone home, changed into the lacy number he requested, set the table and got started on a meal for three. Was this what it was like, coming home to Marinette?

While Jeremy's crush on Marinette intensified by the moment, Tylio finished up his shower. By the time he returned to the living room, Jeremy and Marinette were already seated at the table and the folder...where did it go? He glanced around for a moment, searching, but then his eyes locked with Marinette's and he realized it was time to shift focus now. She'd prepared a meal for them, and not a simple one either. Some of the dishes on the table were things he knew took time. For a moment, he almost felt a bit bad for inviting Jeremy and giving her extra work. It wasn't like he expected this of her. If it had been up to him, he would've just offered Jeremy some coffee, ordered some food and gotten right into the project. But he forgot, Marinette was a dedicated host. She never let people enter their home without offering them something. He finally sat down with them, taking the chair beside Marinette. "This smells wonderful", he told her with a smile, touching the back of her shoulders and briefly leaning in to kiss the side of her head. "Let's eat. I promise I won't talk about work during dinner", Tylio chuckled, and it was probably the most Jeremy had ever seen him laugh in this short of a timespan.

Jeremy was sitting across from them with a deceptively polite smile on his face. There was something almost offensive to him about this picture of domestic bliss and that was the fact that for now, he was not a part of it. Tylio was alright. He was kind of a hardass, and Jeremy probably wouldn't have befriended him if it weren't for Marinette but he was fine. However, right now, Jeremy felt something close to contempt for him. Did he realize how lucky he was?

Throughout the meal, conversation was nice but very surface-level. Jeremy asked Marinette a few things about other movies she'd done, making subtle references to a few scenes because he could not resist revealing himself to be knowledgeable about her projects. He wanted her to know that he'd seen her movies and paid close attention to the plot. But of course, he didn't want to come off as too obsessive so he also mentioned a few other french movies he'd seen, proclaiming his interest in french cinema. He also asked her about Conques and she had a lot to say, which made him think that a part of her probably missed it. He felt he could get away with not asking Tylio anything—after all, they worked closely together every day and in Jeremy's opinion, Marinette's life was objectively more interesting. During certain moments, he could almost pretend as though it were just the two of them dining together.

After dinner, Tylio suggested they have some coffee and go over the reshoot, and Jeremy had to feign interest. He was far more interested in hearing more from Marinette but he was smart enough to know that he had a particular part to play. At least for now. After Tylio fetched their work papers from the kitchen, they all migrated to the couch area and spent the next hour going over all the director's notes. At some point, Jeremy requested the limoncello that Marinette offered earlier, joking that it might help inspire them. As the sunlight slowly drained out of the sky, he realized that sooner or later, one of them would suggest he go home and he wasn't quite ready for that. Especially now that he knew what Marinette was wearing. Every time she shifted around and her sweater would slide down her shoulder a little bit, Jeremy's eyes would linger. His plan had been to watch her undress through one of the windows but when he got here, he realized the windows were tinted now. Such a shame...or perhaps a blessing in disguise, because now he was here. Much closer to her than he would have been from outside the building.

While the evening progressed, Jeremy pretended to drink several glasses of limoncello. In reality he only drank about half of what was poured, tossing the rest into a nearby potted plant whenever no one was looking his way or one of them left the room. He still drank some of it, just to make it seem more realistic, but it wasn't enough to get him as drunk as he pretended to be once it had gotten dark outside and the time for him to leave was creeping dangerously closer.

"Thank you for coming over on such short notice", Tylio started, and Jeremy knew that this was the beginning of a polite little dance that they were going to do around the subject of his departure. "I'm glad we could agree on a plan for monday." Jeremy smiled—a half smile that he tried to make look intentionally messy.

"Oh yeah, no worries. I'm glad I got to see your lovely home", he was addressing Marinette too now, slurring some of his words just a little bit. Just enough to make it believable. Hopefully. "Guess I'd better hit the road...", he nodded at his own words, briefly pretending to look at his watch. He already knew what time it was. "If I could jus' use the bathroom first?" He looked up, spying the look of mild concern on Tylio and Marinette's faces. Bingo. Jeremy didn't wait for an answer before he got up, pretending to lose his balance. Tylio jumped up to grab his shoulders as he pretended to nearly stumble into the coffee table and he let himself be caught, feigning a drunken chuckle to really drive his point home. "Wow, okay...sorry about that, lemme go drink some...some water", he suggested, but didn't protest when Tylio shook his head and guided him instead to sit back down.

"I'll grab you a glass", Tylio announced with a surprisingly understanding tone that Jeremy was not quite expecting. Maybe it was because Marinette was there. Or maybe it was because it was nighttime. If this had been during work hours, he probably would have been scolded. When Tylio left the room and Jeremy was left alone with Marinette for a moment, he decided to pour it on a little thicker. "Don't worry, he's exaggerating, I'm fine. I jus' need to have a smoke, and I'm good", he waved his hand dismissively and then went on to grab a lighter from his pocket, pretending to drop it on the floor. "Ah shit. Oh, my bad. Don't mean to be crass in front of a lady", he chuckled, and he was actually starting to find himself obnoxious now. But he needed to make her really think that he was drunk. Too drunk to drive home.

[lucydixon]

Neighbours Part 6

GIF by bestie @sweet-dr3amer This is a part of a miniseries. You can find part 1 here if you're new.

Summary: Now that you and Øystein have made up, things get a little more confusing, even after talking about your feelings. You run downstairs to return something he left behind the night before and find yourself staring back at a slightly panicked-looking Øystein and several extra pairs of eyes. Warning: NSFW, Unprotected P in V, masturbation talk, and a shocking amount of fluff given the circumstances

Strap in, friends, this might be it for this miniseries

Neither of you was sure how long you stood in the hallway, wrapped around eachother, but by the time you pulled away, you were both exhausted. 

Neither of you had been sleeping right over the last few days, and you both yawned at the same time. 

“I should probably go,” Øystein muttered after a minute. 

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded, taking a step back to let him through. 

A part of you was hoping he’d kiss you, but instead, he just slipped out the door without so much as a goodbye. 

You sighed tiredly. 

It was fine. 

He didn’t have to kiss you, especially after whatever the fuck had just happened. You both needed time to be alone and process. 

You went to bed wondering what if might have felt like if he had. 

In the morning, on your way out the door, you frowned at the guitar case sitting in the hallway, then your eyes widened slightly. 

Øystein must’ve left it behind. 

You’d be at work all day and it seemed pretty important. If you didn’t get it back to him in that moment, he’d be stuck without it all day. 

You grabbed it on your way out the door and felt the weight of it in your hand, wondering if it was just a guitar in there. It was heavy as fuck. 

You hauled it down the stairs and into the store. 

“Hey,” You called out as you maneuvered your way in through the door, “you left this-” 

You trailed off when you looked up and found several pairs of eyes staring back at you, including Øystein’s, which were wide with obvious panic. 

The question in them was very clear 

‘What the fuck are you doing in here?’ 

“Outside.” You finished awkwardly. “You left this outside. It is yours, right?” 

He looked relieved and even a little sorry as he nodded, but he had no intention of introducing you to his friends, which was fine by you. 

He stepped forward to grab it, but one of the boys standing around the counter rushed over to take it from you. 

You blinked at him, a little startled by the abruptness of it all. 

“Let me get that for you!” He took the case from you, blatantly leering at you. “I’m Varg, by the way. I don’t think we’ve met.” 

“Oh.” You smiled politely, although it was strained. “Hi.” 

“You must be the pretty girl upstairs that Jan is always talking about.” he just kept going, oblivious to the way Øystein’s grip around the counter was growing increasingly tighter, knuckles going white with the strain on them. “How come I’ve never seen you around?” 

“I work a lot.” You muttered, glancing up at Øystein’s poorly concealed jealousy momentarily. 

You almost smirked, but thought better of it.

“Anyway, speaking of work.” You waved, turning right back towards the door  “I’ve gotta get going. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Yeah, you will.” Varg muttered to himself as soon as you were gone, “Wow.” 

“She’s been upstairs this whole time?” He turned to ask Øystein.

“She’s got a boyfriend.” The words spilled out of his mouth so easily that it almost felt like they were true. “A real jealous one too, so I’d be careful if I were you.” 

“Oh, I’ll be careful.” Varg chuckled, eyes wandering back over to the door. “Does he live up there with her?” 

“I don’t fucking know.” Øystein snapped suddenly. 

Everyone paused to look at him. 

“She dumped coffee on me!” He reminded all of them, doing his best to play it off “excuse me for not being her biggest fan.” 

They all seemed to accept the explanation for his outburst and went back to what they were doing while he stewed in annoyed silence. 

The last thing he needed was Varg sniffing around you. Especially after you’d just made up the day before. He hadn’t even had the chance to fuck you yet. To mark you, even.  

He’d gone almost four days without even kissing you and felt like he was going to start pulling his hair out. 

He should’ve kissed you the night before. 

He’d thought about it, but he’d never kissed you without fucking you after and the thought of it freaked him out a little if he was being honest. It would make it all feel so real. 

He wasn’t sure he could keep pretending that he wasn’t your boyfriend if he started kissing you just for fun.  Yet, here he was, telling people you already had a jealous boyfriend, knowing damn well he meant himself. 

When you got home, you half expected Øystein to be waiting for you. 

You coudn’t deny the little bit of disappointment you felt rush through you when you saw that he wasn’t. 

You lowered yourself onto one of the steps and just about jumped out of your skin when the boy from that morning, Varg, rounded the corner suddenly. 

You were startled enough to let out a gasp. 

“Sorry!” He took a step back, giving you a little room. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I was just leaving” 

“No, you’re good.” You sighed, lighting a cigarette. “I guess I’m just a little jumpy.” 

“Can I sit?” He asked, nodding towards the stairs. 

You knew Øystein would lose his mind if he saw the two of you out there, but you shrugged anyway and watched him sit far too close to you. 

Without thinking, you shifted up a few steps. 

“Sorry.” He frowned, “I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t be happy to find you sitting with me. I don’t want to get you into trouble” 

Your brows immediately pulled together. 

“Øystein says he gets really jealous.” 

“Who does?” You were a little confused, but pretty sure you understood what had happened. 

“Your boyfriend.” 

“Ah, yes.” you nodded, with as much conviction as you could muster. “He does get pretty jealous. Over very minor things actually, so he’d probably lose his shit if he did see us, you’re right.” 

“So, I should probably go then?” He was very obviously waiting for you to say no, and invite him to stay. 

“Probably.” You shrugged, too tired to be polite. 

You didn’t wait to see what he did next and stubbed out your cigarette abruptly before standing and heading towards the door. 

“What the fuck?” You muttered to yourself as soon as you were inside. 

When Øystein showed up on your doorstep in the middle of the night, you opened the door and fought to keep from looking smug. 

“You know,” you said, leaning into the doorframe “I had a very interesting conversation with one of your friends earlier.” 

“What were you doing talking to my friends?” He snapped, immediately defensive. 

“I wasn’t doing any of the talking.” You shrugged. “I was just trying to come home after work. And one of your little long haired fuckers pulled up on me.”

“Which one?” He rested his hand against the doorframe, a couple feet over your head, and leaned in “Was it Jan? What’d he say.” 

“It wasn’t Jan.” You shook your head, unable to help the way your lips curled upwards. “It was the other one, from this morning.” 

“You know what he said to me?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you. 

“He said, that he’d better be careful in case my boyfriend sees us, because, apparently, you told him that I have a very jealous boyfriend and that he should be careful talking to me.” 

He faltered and you saw the same panic as you’d seen that morning in his eyes, but only for a half a second before he was back to trying to act aloof. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You’re a horrible liar, Øystein.” You teased, stepping aside to let him in. “Are you coming in, or did you just swing by to glare at me?” 

He made a huffing sound and brushed past you while you chuckled under your breath. 

“You wanna tell me what that was-” You asked, shutting the door, but gasped when you felt his body press into yours from behind. He spun you around and pinned you to he door, gazing down at you hungrily 

“Not really.” He muttered, before slamming his lips onto yours roughly. 

Your entire body melted into him and your hands immediately found his hair, trying to pull him closer while your lips fought to keep the pace he’d set. 

His tongue snaked it’s way inside your mouth and you let it tangle with yours, muffling the breathy sounds falling from your lips. 

Øystein’s big hands cupped your ass and hauled you up into his arms so you could wrap your legs around him. His bulge ground itself against the aching spot between your thighs, and you both groaned loudly at the feeling.

It had been four days. 

Four days since he’d kissed you. 

Since he’d been able to rub up against you through all the layers of clothes. 

To manhandle your tits and shove his fingers into your cunt. 

To taste you.

Four days since he’d fucked you, and yet, it felt like a lifetime.

The kiss had slowed. 

No longer frantic, it had devolved into a sloppy, passionate display of what was left unsaid. 

What you were booth unwilling to admit out loud. 

He found himself almost muttering that he’d missed you into your mouth, but somehow, he managed to bite back the words and settled for a soft ‘fuck’.

The sound of it made your chest ache. 

Your thumb ghosted along his jaw, almost as if you wanted to cradle his face in your hands, and he shuddered. 

Øystein stared working his way down your neck, trailing sloppy, open mouthed kisses along your skin until he settle on a spot and started teasing it with his teeth, nipping at it lightly. He realized after a moment that it was the same spot he’d marked up before and pulled back slightly to look at it. 

“It’s almost faded.” you could feel his lips moving against your skin “No wonder you’re distracting everyone downstairs. They think you’re fair game.” 

“Can’t have that, now can we?” You breathed, a little surprised by how badly you wanted him to mark you up again. “You gonna give me another one?” 

“You want me to?” He muttered, allowing his eyes to flutter shut, only because you couldn’t see him trying to regain his composure. 

“Yeah,” Your voice was so soft, so quiet, that he barely heard you “I think I really do.” 

He inhaled sharply before clamping down on the side of your neck, drawing a low moan from your lips, then a hiss. The sound only egged him on further as he bit and sucked on the flesh hard. 

When he was finished, he pulled back to admire his work with a little smirk. 

It was a little bigger than the last one, but it was sure as hell a lot darker. 

Your fingertips brushed over it and you could feel the distinct shape of the slightly raised skin. 

“They’re gonna think I’ve been strangled if anything.” You chuckled, still pinned to the wall, in his arms 

“Oh, you want me to strangle you?” There was a slight teasing edge to his words “is that what you’re trying to say.” 

“I don’t know about full on strangling.” You rolled your eyes playfully, but there was some truth in them that came with a warmth in your cheeks “A little choking, maybe.” 

“Yeah?” he smirked, ducking down to kiss you feverishly “You want me to choke you?” 

You nodded into the kiss, melting into him. 

“What else do you want? Huh?” he growled in between kisses, quickly getting you both worked up. 

“I wouldn’t mind getting tossed around” You panted, arching your back into him “could bend me over the counter.” 

“No teasing though.” You added, clutching onto his shoulders when he pushed off the wall and started carrying you into the kitchen, still kissing you in between words “I don’t wanna be teased.” 

“That’s a long list of demands.” He muttered, setting you down on the counter before pulling your top off “Not sure I can make any promises.” 

You made a whining sound and he threw his jacket aside, shrugging off his shirt while you undid your bra, freeing your tits. Øystein was on them as soon as he’d gotten his top half undressed, mauling them with his hands and mouth so roughly that he almost knocked you over before you could brace yourself against the counter. 

You gasped when you felt his teeth graze your nipple, then groaned, relishing in the wamth of his mouth enveloping the sensitive nub. You grabbed onto his hair with one hand, more to keep yourself steady than anything and arched your back into him, pressing your tits against his mouth and hands eagerly. 

He sunk his teeth into your soft flesh and you felt your panties soaking through. 

“Take your pants off.” You breathed, trying to undo his belt for him. 

“Now you’re telling me what to do?” he raised a brow, smirking at you as he helped get it unbuckled “That’s not really how this works, sweetheart.” 

“You asked me what I wanted you to do to me.” You reminded him breathlessly, “And what I want you to do, is fuck me. Now.” 

“Coming off a little desperate here,” Øystein teased, working with you to get your pants off. 

“Maybe I am a little desperate.” You raised your hips off the counter so he could slide them down your legs. 

“Yeah?” he scoffed, sweeping you off the counter and onto your feet. 

Your brows pulled together briefly, but then shot up when he spun you around and bent you over the counter, just like you’d asked him to. 

He reached around and dipped his fingers in between your thighs, groaning when he felt how soaked you were. 

“I think you’re more than a little desperate,” he couldn’t help but feel a bit special, knowing you were that wet before he’d even really touched you. “You want me to fuck you that bad?” 

You nodded, trying to reach behind you to tug at his pants. He’d stopped undressing once he’d got his belt off. 

Øystein grabbed your wrist and pinned it behind your back, dropping his pants by himself while you squirmed under him, growing increasingly impatient. 

“You been thinking about me?” He taunted, running the tip of his cock through your folds, coating it with your slick. 

You jolted at the feeling, hissing as your body shook in anticipation. 

“What have you been thinking about?” 

“Øystein,” You whined “what’d I say about teasing?” 

“What did I say about you telling me what to do?” 

You felt him pressing into you from behind and gasped when the head of his cock popped inside you. But then he stopped, obviously waiting for an answer. 

He was glad you weren’t facing him and couldn’t see how much he was struggling not to just sink right into your warmth. Feeling your hole strangling the head of his cock was doing things to him and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it up. 

“What do you want me to say?” You panted, trying to push your hips back, but he just used the leverage he had on your arm to pin you to the counter “That I was thinking about you in the shower this morning?” 

“Were you?” He tried not to sound too interested, but you could hear it in his voice. 

“Mhmm,” You hummed. 

“What were you doing in there?” Øystein’s voice was raspy, dark with lust “Were you touching yourself in there? Huh?” 

“Maybe.” You purred, inhaling sharply when he allowed himself to sink an inch deeper. 

He fought not to groan at the feeling. 

“I couldn’t help myself, I’ve been thinking about you since last night.” You were way too far gone to be embarrassed about what you were confessing, desperate for him to keep inching forward. “So yeah, I was touching myself in there, wishing it was you with your fingers or your cock instead.”

He gave you another inch and you both moaned softly. 

It was the first time he wasn’t just slamming into you, but neither of you acknowledged it. 

“You’re gonna have to show me that sometime.” He muttered, beyond turned on “How many fingers did you take when you were thinking about me? Huh? How many of those pretty little fingers?” 

“Three.” You breathed, arching your back when he pushed further, stretching your walls around his glistening cock. “Nowhere close to the real thing though.” 

“Did you make yourself cum?” His words were coming out breathy, quickly losing all composure. 

“Sure did.” You moaned, taking another inch “Twice.” 

That did it for sure. 

He slammed the rest of the way into you, burying himself to the hilt. 

You both gasped. 

Øystein had very little self control left. 

He withdrew and slammed back into you, grunting from the sheer force of it. He wanted to get as deep inside you as he possibly could. Wanted you to be completely filled and for you to miss the feeling the next time you were toying with yourself. 

He let go of your arm and pulled your upperbody flush against his chest, arching your back while resting his palm at the base of your throat. 

He could feel you fluttering around him as he restricted your airway slightly, muffling the soft sounds falling from your lips. 

Despite the overwhelming stimulation, your hips slammed back to meet every thrust, grinding themselves against him. You were loving the feeling of having his hand wrapped around your throat. He wasn’t squeezing too hard, but it was enough to make your heart race in your chest. 

He allowed himself a few more thrusts before pulling out of you suddenly. 

You whimpered at the loss of contact, turning to look at him, but then shrieked when he tossed you over his shoulder and headed straight for your bedroom while you giggled breathlessly. 

He tossed you down on the bed and immediately crawled on top of you, sinking right back down to the hilt. He groaned into your ear while you bit down on his shoulder to muffle the yelp threatening to force it’s way out of your throat, not having expected to be filled again that abruptly. 

Your legs wrapped around him, angling your hips so he could get a little deeper. 

His lips slammed onto yours and you found yourself completely and utterly wrapped up in the feeling of him. This felt so much more intimate than anything you’d ever done. 

Kissing, while you fucked?

Unheard of. 

Despite him slamming into your cervix with rough, brutal strokes, there was something so tender about the moment, even when your teeth started gnashing and you started biting eachothers lips. 

Tongues started to roam and finally, he slowed the pace of his thrusts.

Øystein found himself not wanting it to end. 

The two of you were wrapped around one another so tightly that it was starting to restrict his ability to move, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting as close to you as he possibly could. His arms were wrapped around you, keeping you flush against him. 

Your chests were heaving against one another so hard that it almost hurt, but neither of you were complaining. 

Despite his effort to slow his movements, Øystein could feel himself coming undone and could tell from the sounds you were making that you were just as close to reaching your peak too. 

You were both too worked up to keep kissing and clung to eachother, gasping and moaning as you both came crashing over the edge. 

Breathing raggedly, he allowed himself a few more lazy thrusts, shuddering at the feeling of his balls emptying themselves inside of you, before slowing to a stop. 

Still buried inside you, he rolled onto his side and kept you clutched to his chest while you panted into the crook of his neck. 

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, but it was long after the two of you had leveled out and caught your breath. 

Øystein’s grip on you had slackened slightly as he came down, but was still firm. 

Neither of you said anything for what felt like hours, each trying to figure out what the fuck was going on inside your own heads. 

“I don’t think I want you to leave,” You said finally, hiding your face in his chest. 

“I don’t think I want to.” He admitted after a moment , resting his chin on the top of your head. 

“Then don’t.” 

“And what? Stay here and sleep in your bed?” it almost sounded like he couldn’t believe it. Like he couldn’t fathom you wanting him there. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, pulling away slightly to look up at him with tired, fucked out eyes. “We could just pull the blanket over us and go to sleep.”

“Like this?” He raised a brow, acutely aware of his softening cock still nestled in between your thighs. 

“Sure.” the corners of your lips curled upwards “Why not?” 

“Yeah.” He muttered, unable to deny how tired he was and how good it felt having you wrapped around him “Okay.” 

You reached for the blanket and maneuvered it over the two of you before settling back into his chest and shutting your eyes. 

You didn’t say anything, but you pressed your lips to his bare skin and after a moment of hesitation, you felt Øystein press his to the crown of your head, tightening his grip around you slightly.

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

[juicycoutureheaux]

Pairing: Mark Grayson x TransferStudent!Reader

Chapter 2: Slow and Steady

Hey y’all. So this is going to be a multi chapter fic. I’m going to indulge myself. (Sorry for spamming the tag, you can absolutely tell me to get lost 😭.) Fun fact: each banner is going to be a photograph I took from Savannah. I just feel like it adds a personal touch. (This chapter is The Basilica St. John the Baptist and the first one is of the Gardenias in my yard!) This second chapter is just a continuation of Mark and reader telling their families and friends about the other!

There no TWs. THIS IS AU AND MAY HAVE A CROSSOVER in LATER CHAPTERS 😅

She’s amazing, William!” Mark said as he leaned against his locker, grinning like an idiot.

William raised an eyebrow, arms crossed, unimpressed. “The new girl?”

“Y/N,” Mark sighed like he was floating. “She’s so—different. She’s nice. And smart. And she actually talked to me. Like, not in a ‘can you move’ kind of way. A real conversation.”

William opened his locker and rolled his eyes. “I think I’ve seen her around. She dresses like she lives in an old movie.”

Mark didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, she does. Apparently everyone where she’s from dresses like that. It’s… kind of adorable.”

William stared at him like he’d just confessed to marrying a cartoon character. “Don’t tell me you’re head over heels already.”

“I’m not—” Mark stopped. Thought for a second. “Okay maybe I am. A little.”

Just then, a soft voice chimed in from behind them.

“Talkin’ bout me already?” You smiled, hands clasped around the strap of your bag. You looked so well put together. Your pink bow tying back your curls in a relaxed half up half down style.

Mark nearly jumped. “Y/N! Hey—hi! Uh, this is William. My best friend.”

William turned, gave a once-over, and offered a slight wave. “Hey.”

“Hi there,” You said politely, smiling as you gently extended a hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Mark’s told me you’re the smart one.”

William smirked and shook her hand. “He did, huh? That sounds accurate.”

You laughed lightly, a sweet little sound. “He also said you have a tendency to be skeptical. That also sounds accurate.”

Mark made a strangled noise. “Wait—I didn’t say that—”

“I’m teasin’!” You gently touched his shoulder., looking back at William with a playful glint in her eye. “Kind of.”

William looked between the two of them and tilted his head. “So… what’s the deal? You guys dating or just sharing textbooks for fun?”

Mark turned red so fast it was almost impressive. “Wha—no! I mean—not yet—I mean—we just met this morning—”

You looked lost for words. You smiled in a way that your mouth was closed but it still showed off the cute dimple on your right cheek.

William gave her an appraising look. “Okay. I get it now.”

“Get what?” Mark asked, still trying to recover.

William shut his locker and grinned. “You. Her. This whole weird energy. It works.”

Mark blinked. “Is that… approval?”

William shrugged. “She makes you look less tragic. I’m into it.”

You smiled and brushed the hair out of your face and smiled at the ground. “Thanks, William. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” William replied, genuinely amused.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the day.

You shifted your bag onto your shoulder. “I’m catching a ride with my mom today, but I’ll see you guys tomorrow?”

“Yeah!” Mark said a little too quickly. “Definitely.”

“Bye, Mark. Bye, William.” You gave a small wave and walked off, your skirt swishing as you disappeared into the crowd.

Mark exhaled like he’d been holding his breath.

William smacked his arm. “You’re so gone, dude.”

Mark just grinned. “I really am.”

——————————-

You slid into the passenger seat of your mom’s sleek white SUV, the soft scent of floral perfume and leather instantly comforting.

“Hey, sweetie! How was your first day?” Your mom asked brightly, pulling out of the school lot.

“Wanna hit the mall? I need new foundation, and we can pick you up a few things too. I have big daddy’s credit card.” Your mother said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

You smiled, clicking her seatbelt. “That sounds great, Mama.”

You loved how easy it was with your mom. The awkward stares and whispered comments from the girls at school didn’t matter much when you had someone who always made you feel seen.

The two of you drove in companionable silence for a few minutes, you were scrolling absently through your phone. You wondered if you should look up Mark on Instagram—did he even have one? He didn’t exactly scream “social media guy,” but maybe…

“Magnolia,” your mother said gently, using your nickname like only she could, “how was it really? It must be a culture shock, all these gloomy Yankees.”

You sighed. “Yeah, it is. Everyone wears black or gray and barely smiles unless they’re laughing at someone.”

“But…” your lips curved into a grin. “There’s this boy in my science class. He’s cute.”

Your mom lit up. “Baby! That’s wonderful! You never gave the boys at Savannah Christian the time of day.”

You giggled. “They weren’t very interesting. This one’s different—sweet, kind of shy. He actually talked to me like I was a person.”

“Well, praise the Lord, someone call the Savannah Cotillion club! I have a little Debutante!” your mom exclaimed excitedly.

“Mamaaaa.” You groaned.

“What? Your sister Emmaline had boyfriends since the sixth grade! I had to enter you in Pageants just to dress you up! Emmaline went to proms, Commissioning, military balls…”

“Mama, I like focusing on my other pursuits.” Anna teased.

“That’s right! Do they have a cheer team at this school? You are trying out, right? We didn’t pay for all those tumbling lessons for you not to shine baby.”

“I am,” you confirmed. “Individual tryout’s on Wednesday.”

Your mom smiled proudly. “You’re adjusting just fine, baby.”

They pulled into the mall parking lot, and your eyes widened slightly. “This place is huge.”

“Right? Nothing like the one in Savannah,” your mom agreed as they headed inside.

At Macy’s, the two of you made a beeline for the Lancôme counter. The sales associate took one look at the duo—matching waves, glowing skin, tailored outfits—and smiled brightly.

“Well, look at you two! I didn’t know the Dallas Cowboys cheer squad was in town.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “You sisters or something?”

You blushed, glowing under the compliment. She loved when people said that.

Your mom just laughed. “Something like that.” She turned her head to wink at you.

You were swatching lip gloss samples while your Mama was talking about the different types of facials she would get back home and was asking for recommendations for a good esthetician from the sales associate.

You and your browsed through the makeup counters like they owned the place.

Your mother had a confident way of gliding from display to display, gently critiquing colors and textures while you trailed behind her, occasionally swatching eyeshadows on the back of your hand.

“What do you think about this blush?” Mama asked, holding up a peachy compact.

You squinted. “It’s pretty, but I think it’d wash me out.”

“Good call. That undertone’s for girls with no sun.” Your mom winked and moved on.

The two of you ended up at a boutique next to Macy’s where you tried on a pale blue sweater with pearl buttons and a plaid skirt.

Your mom clapped her hands when you came out of the dressing room. “You look like a dream, baby.”

You beamed. “It’s very you, right?”

Your Mama tilted her head proudly. “It’s very us. Classic, clean, and just the right amount of Southern sass, even if we live in Yankee territory.”

After ringing up their purchases and grabbing drinks from the coffee shop, they sat by the fountain, watching the water dance in sync with soft mall music.

“I miss Savannah a little,” you admitted, fiddling with the straw of your strawberry latte.

Mama nodded, stirring her iced latte. “We had our roots there, sure. But sometimes you’ve got to plant yourself somewhere new and bloom again.”

You leaned your head on your mom’s shoulder. “You always know what to say.”

“That’s because I’ve lived it, baby girl. And if that boy’s a good one? Let him water your little garden a bit.”

You laughed. “Mama!”

Her mom just sipped her latte, grinning.

Xxxxx

Mark walked in through the front door, dropping his backpack next to the shoe rack like always.

“Hey, I’m home,” he called.

Debbie looked up from the kitchen counter where she was chopping vegetables. “Hi, sweetheart. How was school?”

“It was good.” Mark moved a little slower than usual. There was a softness in his voice. A dazed edge.

Debbie narrowed her eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just… thinking.”

Nolan entered from the living room, arms crossed. “About what?”

Mark hesitated. “Just… stuff.”

“Stuff,” Nolan repeated, tone sharp. “You’ve been ‘thinking about stuff’ a lot lately. Any of it involve, I don’t know, flying? Super strength? Anything new?”

Mark sighed. “No. Nothing’s changed.”

Nolan studied him a moment, then exchanged a look with Debbie. She gave him a subtle don’t-push-him look.

“Is there something else going on?” Debbie asked gently. “A friend? A girl, maybe?”

Mark’s ears turned pink. “Mom…”

Debbie smiled. “That’s not a no.”

“There’s this new girl,” Mark admitted, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “ She just moved here. She’s… different. Southern. Super sweet. And she actually talked to me like I mattered.”

Debbie’s expression softened. “That’s sweet, Mark. I’m glad.”

Nolan didn’t look thrilled. “So this is where your head’s been all day?”

“It’s not like I planned it,” Mark muttered. “I just like talking to her.”

“Talking’s not going to help when your powers show up and you’re not ready,” Nolan said, voice firm. “You need to stay focused.”

Debbie frowned at him. “Nolan.”

“What?” he said. “I’m just saying—this is bigger than teenage distractions.”

Mark didn’t respond. He just looked down, jaw clenched.

Debbie walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’re proud of you. Powers or not. Okay?”

Mark nodded, but his mind was clearly somewhere else.

Or more accurately—on someone else.

[kelltonic]

★Frank Castle Heacanons☆

First post on this account!! (*≧∀≦*)

A/N: Hi!! This is my first post to this account. I’ll make a rq intro to me and what my account will entail in a while, but just know it will contain a lot of Frank - probably no smut though, I can’t write it (´∀｀*). There aren’t really any warnings or notes for this post, it’s pretty self explanatory. I’ll probably write a lot of headcanon posts, so request who you’d like to see or what topic they should be on!! I’m fine with writing for most marvel characters, and overtime you’ll see what other fandoms I drift towards.

CW: A tad bit hurt but just barely. Very brief mentions of canon typical violence. Some fluff and just general headcanons - completely gender neutral for relationship hc’s (*'▽'*)

WC: 1195 Words (but you can pick and choose what you want to read)

→ Relationship Tendencies ♡

Established relationship:

- Frank is unintentionally distant at times, sometimes physically, sometimes mentally. Obviously due to the mass amount of trauma (physical and emotional) and his overall personality, he drifts. Sometimes mid conversation he’ll lose focus, borderline dissociating until he’s snapped back to reality by whoever he’s talking to. Then of course there are the times he is genuinely dissociating, going days at a time in an automatic state of survival, just repeating his daily routine while being in the back of his mind.

But then there’s you. The one thing anchoring him back down to the present. You’re one of - if not the only - constant in his life. Every time he feels himself falling back into the spiralling mess of his thoughts, he holds onto to you. Sometimes literally, every so often you’ll just feel a hand on your shoulder as you’re doing work or warm arms wrapping around your waist as you’re cooking.

However, sometimes he struggles with even the simple gesture as sitting next to you on the couch. The fact that you’re there, with him, despite all the atrocities he’s committed? It’s wrong. He stubbornly refuses to believe you really chose to be there.

Is he subconsciously threatening you into staying? Are you scared of him and just really good at masking it?

But then you hold his hand. You simply hug him. You reassure him, because by now you can tell what he’s thinking. By now you know that no matter how much distance he puts between you, you need to keep hold of him.

First meeting scenario: (Okay this may have drifted from a headcanon to a short story… but whatever)

- You were his neighbour, politely introducing yourself when you’re unlocking your door and he happens to be adding extra locks onto his door. At first glance it may seem like an odd first thing to do when you move somewhere, but it’s New York. if anything you respect the man for prioritising his safety. Despite the real reason of him not wanting any unwanted guests breaking in and discovering his extensive arsenal. But you were unaware of course, so as far as you knew he was just a cautious man - a decent first impression.

Then every so often you’d pass him in the stairwell or in the hallway, progressively building more conversation each interaction. It got to a point where you were comfortable enough to knock on his door when you realise you lost your keys and were incapable of getting into your own apartment. Even if it was still a little humiliating that you had to ask him to help you break into your own apartment. He let out a small huff that you could only slightly perceive to be a chuckle, which eased your embarrassment a small amount. This turned into the longest interaction you had with him, apologising profusely for bothering him and offering a drink in gratitude. He had to accept, he couldn’t help wanting to stay by your side for as long as you allowed him.

Over time these little hangouts where you’d get a couple drinks, complain about the tenants upstairs constantly stomping around, sometimes even have dinner together, evolved into a near daily occurrence. And from there things only progressed further.

Until he realised what was happening. And he couldn’t allow that. He couldn’t allow you to have a target painted on your back for affiliation.

So daily drinks progressed to weekly… to monthly… until he nearly entirely cut you off. You had no clue as to why. Why he suddenly moved away over night. why he suddenly abandoned you.

After the first month of no pick ups from the phone or text responses, you just started leaving him messages. Voicemails of what happened during your day; the good, the shitty, even the occasional odd. He became a journal for you, as you lost all expectations of him actually hearing you. He very well could’ve deleted your number, or even gotten a new phone. Maybe he was dead. You couldn’t tell, but no morgue or hospital claimed a ‘Pete Castiglioni’ or a John Doe.

Until, you heard sloppy knocking at the door. Not expecting anyone, you got up from the couch and approached the door, hearing heavy breathing and wheezing. You hesitated to open the door, frightened of the possibility of a criminal or unstable person on the other side. It was only when you heard an uncomfortably familiar voice struggle to say your name. You froze. For what felt like a lifetime, you were paralysed in shock, and maybe even slight anger. It was only when he repeated, with more volume, that you could really hear the pain in his voice.

You reached for the handle, and there he was. Covered in blood and open wounds, leaning against the doorframe while clenching his side. You were liable to slap him, but instead you stuttered out the obvious questions of “are you okay?” “What happened?”

“Why didn’t you just call back?”

A/N: You can finish that however you want, it started getting far too long for a headcanons post lol

Fluff/Little behaviours:

- When he finally gets comfortable enough with you, he gets very physically affectionate. Usually in more subtle ways, but sometimes he won’t care to give you personal space (unless you actually told him to give you some - in which he would absolutely back off). In public, he’ll range from the occasional forehead kiss to the hovering behind and holding you to his chest. He can’t help but keep you close, it’s the easiest way for him to ground himself. But also the easiest way to keep you safe.

- He’s surprisingly good at cooking (which is canon), but he makes sure you know it. He wants you to see the skills he has that aren’t violent. Aren’t bloody. Until you’re talking about his steaks.

→ Independent Habits ♪

- He’s a really slow reader. Not because he doesn’t read at all, it’s consistently portrayed that he much rather reads a book than scroll the internet or something. It’s more because when he was in the military, he wanted to enjoy the little time he had when he wasn’t doing anything. He wanted a distraction, something time consuming that would seperate him from the world and the atrocities he would commit. So, he trained himself to read slowly, helping him absorb every little detail in a book as well as minimising the amount of books he would need to have access too.

Or alternatively,

- He’s a really fast reader. When his children (mostly his daughter) would recommend books, whether they were school books or personal interests, he would have to get through them in as little free time as he had. He needed something to connect with his kids to as he spent such little time with them over long periods of time due to deployment. So he learnt to read as quickly as possible while also absorbing as much information as possible. This continued when Leo (Lieberman) would recommend books to him, such as Life of Pi. Books were just the easiest way to make conversation and discover shared interests with (his) kids.

- Sometimes after spending days consecutively not speaking, he’ll choke up when trying to say something. Even just a simple “thanks” to the shopkeeper or something comes out as a croak. It’s one of the few times he feels slightly embarrassed lately.

Post Writing:

A/N: I was planning on adding more Independent Habits but I ran out of ideas/motivation (*´-`) - I felt funny putting the fluff relationship headcanons after that little story (´-ω-`)

please fill my requests with ideas/scenarios you’d like to see!! I need prompts to thrive lmao.

Started: 6th of May, 2025

Completed: 7th of May, 2025

[beefscrap]

Our world is kind of burning and I hope it won’t affect my writing output. This is not a ‘political’ blog but 1. It’s my biggest following 2. My writing is political get over it (even if it’s freaking wings of fire dragon ocs)

I am American. There’s been something in the back of my mind for a long time as I’ve seen the horror of the Palestinian genocide alone (as we know, many other countries and people too): as America inflicts and sits on its ass during the suffering and killing, someday when we are suffering, who will want to protest for us? This rather selfish thought I tried not to think about above the people actually suffering

Now America is really beginning to suffer. We were fucked up before but yk. Obviously it’s getting worse because we have a demon leading us. Yet, I’ve seen protests from people around the world. Maybe some if it is because they know they’ll be affected too, but you are still protesting. And it breaks my heart, because America still does what it does

I’m almost to 700 followers and I peep at your accounts sometimes and I know at least SOME of you are not American. I’m just sorry. It makes me so inexplicably sad that so much of our hate trickles down from shitass government leaders who spew bullshit and hate and like to play with their bombs and soldiers like toys. I’m not the smartest politically (yet) and I don’t have anything super profound to say.

I don’t write about evil governments for shits and giggles. I hope everyone knows I do not stand with this country - that has deported my dad, that has denied my struggling single mother assistance, that preys upon my brown brothers, that threatens autistic people, that would gladly let my trans ass get killed. On top of EVERYTHING outside and the things I don’t get to experience. This isn’t just empathy, it’s personal

I’m sorry to everyone outside of this shitass country. Going forward it’s okay if people do not want to associate with us/me online (if I’ll even be able to be online lol). I support that but I also support peace. I will never fight, I will never fight against you no matter how much they want me to. I know there’s a lot more to talk about than just boo hoo I hope I don’t lose my friends from other places ☹️. I’m very fortunate for THAT to be one of my concerns rn

I just want people to know exactly where i stand. Like I said im not very smart, i just don’t want tension with people who im not angry at. I want this nightmare to end and i want peace

So again, I’m sorry. This wasn’t planned out I’m just rambling. Stay safe

[inkpot909]

How They Text the Reader Headcanons

↳ Gender neutral Reader with they/them pronouns. Reader is written to enjoy video games in one segment. Joseph Joestar is not included.

A/n: I’ve been wanting to do another one of these a good while now; they’re so fun to do. As always, writing this was a late night decision. I hope y’all enjoy! <3

Warning(s): An innuendo (Polnareff being Polnareff).

Jotaro Kujo

Forget dry texting, you just hope he bothers to text you at all.

He’s brief and to the point. Receiving an entire paragraph is something you’ll damn near never get from him. He does use proper grammer, but his phone settings are set up in a way that doesn’t automatically uppercase words when they should be.

It does nothing more than make his sarcastic comments come off as even more biting than they usually do.

Jotaro is one of those people who always has his phone on do not disturb. It doesn’t matter how far you’ve been separated or how tense the situation is, his ringer is always shut completely off.

To his credit, if he says he hasn’t seen your text, he’s being completely honest.

He will never check his notifications, see you’ve texted, and shove his phone right back into his pocket only to inevitably forget about it within the span of minutes. He won’t purposely ignore you. If he sees a notification from you, he’ll respond promptly.

That doesn’t change the fact he hardly looks in the first place.

Granted, he’s gotten better at it- largely due to a little pressure from your end. But even then, texting someone else to ask them to tell Jotaro to check his damn phone is a far better strategy most of the time. Usually, Kakyoin is your pick since he’ll do it without complaint.

And after a certain point, Jotaro won’t even mention he’s missed the text anymore. You both know it’s a given.

He definitely prefers to call you rather than messaging.

Texting is a means to an end in his eyes, and nothing more. But as previously mentioned, his phone is always on silent. This results in conversations over the phone occurring only if he calls you himself.

If he does call you, the conversation can go on for hours at a time. Most of the talking is done on your end, but he doesn’t mind one bit. He’ll interject with subdued hums or short words intended to let you know he’s still listening.

Jotaro is a frustrating person to try and reach over the phone. Yet, as dry as he is over text, he’s no stranger to adding a touch of cheekiness to his messages here and there.

Noriaki Kakyoin

If info-dumping were a professional sport, Kakyoin would be in the major leagues.

Before or during your time as a couple, expect a barrage of texts going on about whatever topic strikes his fancy. Prior to the relationship, it was apparently how he flirted?

Okay, no, it’s how he kept your attention on him.

But nowadays, it’s more like a genuine impulse to dump whatever is rattling around in his brain on you. It’s endearing, and usually thought provoking. If not, unquestionably out of left field. He’ll keep you on your toes, that’s for sure.

He’ll also complain to you over text. Kakyoin’s a polite guy, but that’s not to say he doesn’t have a judgmental streak.

If someone (usually Polnareff) does something he considers annoying or unnecessary, you best believe he’s messaging you about it within minutes. Standing right beside you. With the others around.

It’s decidedly better than voicing his blunt thoughts right then and there in front of everyone.

Kakyoin texts in proper grammar, but he will never once get on anyone else’s case for not doing the same. If anything, he finds it amusing. It’s far easier for him to read someone’s tone that way too because he’s downright terrible at determining tone through text messages.

The amount of misunderstandings that’s occurred over text, purely because he cannot comprehend for jack squat, is too many to count. Adorable? Yes. Conversation derailing? Also yes.

Oh well, he always puts in his best effort for you.

All this to say, Kakyoin will text you often and answers quickly regardless of what time it is.

Jean Pierre Polnareff

The biggest tease over text!

Polnareff is pretty standard across the board when it comes to messaging. Proper grammar, a healthy usage of emoji’s, and a good response time.

Actually, just good? Throw that notion out; his response time is unreal. To the point where you’ve earnestly wondered if he spends hours sitting by his phone awaiting your reply.

As often as he messages you, he does also prefer a phone call. He’s happy with either, but nothing will ever beat getting to hear the sound of your voice.

Like Kakyoin, he’ll react over text to events unfolding right in front of the both of you. Unlike the redhead, it’s never a harsh observation or comment best left unsaid.

Instead, he’ll poke fun at you over text that way. He usually doesn’t hesitate to tease out loud, but he also learns quickly what you’d like to keep between you two the further into the relationship you progress.

No matter the method, he’s going to playfully try getting under your skin.

When separated, expect him to check in on you quite often as well. It’s more than a little territorial, but it comes from an earnest place.

Polnareff is practically glued to your hip, but he also knows time away from one another is inevitable. Just a quick text to let him know how you’re doing, and a wave of reassurance will be washing over him.

You both are so accustomed to your text language that it only takes a single message for one of you to know exactly what’s on the others’ mind.

Muhammad Avdol

Avdol operates under a very simple philosophy: Texting is for casual conversation and phone calls are for more pressing matters.

That said, before the you began going out, he didn’t really text you much.

Primarily because he did not know what on earth to talk to you about. He’s not used to feeling intimidated by someone, yet it seemed far too daunting for the longest time. Hell, he even asked the others what they thought a good conversation starter would be (and he never once took their advice).

But as the relationship developed, so did your tendency to message each other. To the point where, now, you text frequently.

Avdol travels a lot, so messaging is naturally a reliable means of keeping in contact when he’s far from you. When he’s gone, he’ll send a lot of pictures of the sites he comes across or simply a pretty sunset he happens to be witnessing. If you like animals a lot, he’ll send you photos of those as well.

Ask him for a picture of himself, and he’ll send the blurriest photograph known to man. But he’s at least still recognizable! Mostly.

He will always tell you good morning and good night over text if he’s not present to say it in person.

Always is no lie, either. He could be in the middle of a heated stand battle and he will not hesitate to pause everything just to send you a good morning message. You’ll know if that’s the case if the message is followed by a picture of him smugly grinning in front of a freshly retired stand user.

Avdol uses proper grammar with the habit of neglecting to use periods at the end of his messages. It’s just a touch too formal for him, and you’re someone he knows he can let his guard down around. This means his texts often carry a playful air to them.

He’s a good sport and enjoys humoring you. Go off on whatever you like, and he approaches the subject with total sincerity.

[charmfamily]

CORVUS CROSSING: A CHARM FAMILY STORY. CHAPTER I "BOY, YOU'LL BE A MAN REAL SOON." PART VI. Transcript Beneath the Cut.

OLIVE: I'd ask how you've been but something tells me that's probably going to be a stupid question, right?

MINERVA: Less stupid than you'd think. [She smiles a little and shrugs her shoulders.] The first year was the worst one with all the holidays and "first whatever without Emerson there" moments, but you know, for better or for worse, life doesn't get to stop when you have kids. Not having any other choice is a great motivator to keep going and then before you know it, your baby's in college and looking back, the last few years doesn't seem like it's been so hard. Most of the credit for that probably goes to my sisters, but it still feels like I accomplished something, so hey. I'll take it.

OLIVE: You know if you'd like to be close and keep an eye out for Damien, there's always an open position in codicology for you to take —

MINERVA: — I appreciate that, but... I left that Minerva in Selvadorada. Haven't so much as touched a Rune Tome in six years and honestly, I don't intend to pick it back up ever again; I've done all the adventuring I'm ever going to do, more than I ever really wanted to do to begin with after I had Damien and Gemma, and now it's time for life to get simplified. Get up in the morning, keep Damien out of as much trouble as possible while not being too overprotective, get Gemma through the rest of school and get her to college so she can start her life, feed the animals, make wine with Vesta, and that's okay. It's better than okay — I like having a quiet little existence with as few complications as possible in it.

OLIVE: You sound like Mortimer... except you've thrown yourself out of work and he's thrown himself further into his, at least last I heard— there's not much news coming out of Goth Manor these days, only that it's business as usual. [She frowns.] You said Bella went missing around the same time as the funeral… now that I think of it, I don't even remember her being at the service.

MINERVA: By the time I made it back to Ravenwood, she was already gone. [She shrugs and sighs softly.] Fortuna's quick to remind everyone that as far as the Corvus Coven has been concerned for decades, Bella's always been an unreliable flake and it's not the first time she's fucked off and left everyone else standing around holding the bag. Never when it counted with me before though, and honestly, I didn't think she ever would do it to Mortimer but apparently there's a first time for everything. Every now and then there's reports of a supposed sighting of her in some random part of the world but I don't know how true any of it is. If she wanted to talk to me, she would, and if she doesn't ever speak to me again, I know I didn't do anything to cause that to happen so ... that's one more complication I'm not getting involved in.

OLIVE: Minerva... I know it takes time to find your feet after a devastating, world-shattering loss, I've been there. Many times in my unnaturally long life as I'm sure you know, but I'm speaking of Ichabod specifically... the first one. My mortal one. Darling don't let the rest of your life be filled with complacency and things that are 'good enough'. Don't waste it by burying your head in the sand and hiding from life to avoid all the complications that come with it — it won't make anything hurt any less.

MINERVA: What else am I supposed to do? So much of everything about me was wrapped up in that marriage. Fifteen years of him being the biggest thing in my life and all I'm left with is … this feeling that I've lost myself in a way I can never get back.

OLIVE: If you don't mind me saying so frankly and without the filter of politeness, you've completely forgotten everything that came before him because when you two met you were a 25 year old graduate scholar and this relatively young, brilliant, handsome professor fresh out of a doctorate program scooped you up, pumped two kids into you and relegated you to being his faithful sidekick — And to throw salt into the wound, the fucker trained you to be happy about taking the backseat instead of driving your own course. My memory's quite long, sweet; long and accurate and the Minerva I taught was a fierce and powerful genius of a girl. She didn't shy and shrink back from complications, she didn't leave questions unanswered, and she didn't make wine with her bat-brained plant-loving forever-virgin sister Vesta because it was quiet and simple. You lost yourself when Emerson Charm put a ring on your finger, not when you put him in the ground.

[snobgoblin]

why are people so fucking rude. screams

[screamingcrows]

To anyone coming here from the mains discord server, hi, Dottore would be proud of your curiosity for coming here ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ nice to meet you!

[sskk-manifesto]

--

[essektheylyss]

what people expect when you sign up for an LIS degree: haha quirky book nerds, so fun, I remember toddler storytime at the library are you gonna read to children

what they actually get when you sign up for an LIS degree: smashing Alexa isn't enough anymore I need to learn how to run my own internet and also build a house on a totally closed circuit system.

[shinesurge]

Do you think requesting my library to buy the Kidd Commander books will help you

I'd really appreciate that, and it's usually good advice to do this for any indie author you want to help! Accessibility is super important to me, libraries snd webcomics are brothers in arms imo. But I will say, while I DESPERATELY want to work with more libraries they won't usually carry my books either. I've struck out with every local library I've ever lived near and tried to connect with, it's been mortifying every time ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

There is exactly one library with kc on its shelves tho, shoutout to the Hopkinsville-Christian County Public Library in Kentucky! It remains the only place to ever reach out and intentionally invite me to an event lmao