#so i cover my face and then she laughs and pulls it away

[xoxxbilliexoxx]

Friends? Just Friends?

part 2

part 1 here

When you wake up after a night that changed everything for you two, Billie lets you continue exploring what it’s like to be with a girl … ;)

y/n POV

As the sunlight peaks through the curtains I’m slowly pulled from my slumber. My eyes stay closed, allowing myself to fall in and out of a sleepy haze. The cool sheets rub against my soft legs and the breeze from the open window runs lightly along my arm. As I roll over I smile at the smell of Billie’s shampoo and perfume blending together. It’s a smell that has taken over my bed with the frequency that she shares it with me. I take a deep breath, letting it flood my senses before sighing and returning back to my thoughtless meditative state. It isn’t until I feel the brisk air hit my bare chest that I realize I’m naked. My eyes flash open as I turn to see Billie’s exposed boobs only half covered by the sheets and I am hit with the memories of last night. It all felt like a dream I didn’t want to wake up from. Now I'm remembering just how real it was as I see her bruise covered neck. I close my eyes again, smiling as I play it all back in my head. play back the feeling of her boobs in my mouth, her lips on my lips, her tongue on my pussy. As I lay still, happily reminiscing on the passion we shared, the sunrays hits my eyelids and my brain is filled with gold light. I feel the bed moving and as billie’s body pushes against mine I open my eyes, watching her lips meet my forehead before she settles back down on my chest.

“goodmorning pretty girl” I half whisper half speak, my morning voice cracking through my throat. “goodmorning lesbo” she giggles back at me. “so that was real huh? not just an amazing dream I had last night?” i flirt out, not hiding it at all. “oh no baby it was very very real, so real, in fact, that ur still very much naked” Billie states, as her hand wanders down to my core, swiping her fingers between my lips making me twitch before bringing it back up and hugging me. Her intentions weren’t to get me horny again, they were more to just tease lightly, but I don’t think she realizes just how powerful of an effect she has on me. I lay still for a while, feeling overwhelmed by the joy I’m getting from billie cuddled up on my chest, the long building tension now gone and the flirting no longer needing to be hidden. I don’t dare ask what is going on, not only because I don’t want to ruin the moment but because I truthfully don’t care right now. All I care about is the way Billie makes me feel, and the way we so naturally fell into this dynamic, like it was meant to happen exactly as it did; Like we are exactly where we are meant to be.

Her fingertips lightly stroke my arm up and down, her touch so soft that her fingers continue to lift, disconnecting and reconnecting over and over. I hum at the feeling. It’s so peaceful with her, like we've been doing this forever. “Your skin is so soft, how did I not notice this before?” I laugh at her question before answering, “I think you were scared to touch me for a while, Eilish” She's silent for a second. I can feel her cheeks moving, forming into a smile. “mmmmm well I can touch you all I want now” she finally says before moving her hand up to grab my boob, shaking her hand up and down making it move with her. She looks so amused, so happy to have me like this now, to touch me like this now. “you better quit it before you get me all horny again” I laugh, pulling her hand away. Before I let her go, she interlocks it with mine and lays them both back down. “And what would be so wrong with you being horny again?” she looks up at me as she finishes her question. When I look down to meet her glance I can’t help but giggle at the smug look on her face. “shit i’m not complaining, go ahead baby” I crack back at her, my honest tone mixing in with the laughter, making it clear she can do whatever she’d like.

Everything feels so much more real when there isn’t wine in the mix, when the moon is no longer glowing but instead the sun is filling the room, when the birds outside are chirping. Her touch moving across my lower stomach, the goosebumps forming on my skin, her lips making contact with my collarbone, it’s all so much more real. She looks up and, fuck, this eye contact feels oh so real. when our lips touch it’s more delicate than it was last night, more intimate somehow. It’s slow, like we aren’t wanting to devour each other, but instead want to learn exactly what our lips feel like against one another. The slow speed continues but the passion grows. Our lips dance between each other, finding a rhythm, making up the choreography and sticking with it. The light sounds of kissing fills the room and we stay just like this for a while. We aren’t in a rush, I don’t need sex, I need her.

My own hands grow curious of her body and my confidence builds. As Billie’s lips continue to wrap around mine and her body is still draped across me, I grab her waist and pull her up more. Our heads are now equal, I'm no longer looking down at her. Her one leg is thrown across my body and her other is snug against my side. Our lips continue to move slowly but passionately, not wanting to end this intense make out session. I can’t remember the last time I made out with someone this long without it turning into more. Men and their fucking lack of foreplay, ew. I let my hand move down to Billie’s ass and squeeze it hard, wanting more of her body immediately. Our lips are speeding up and the kiss is becoming sloppier. I feel a hunger growing from deep within me, but it’s not for my own pleasure. I suddenly feel an intense craving to touch her, to please her, to learn all the parts of her body like she did for me last night. My thoughts race around my head as we continue to let the desire build. I don’t know what to do, or how to do it, all I know is I want her, I’ve wanted her forever.

I let the fervor turn to confidence as I roll us over, Billie now under me. I pull away for a second to look down at her before I smash my lips back down, not able to stay away from her. My hands roam her body fast, wanting to touch every part of her all at once. I slow myself down when I reach her boobs, squeezing and kneading them as I watch her chest begin to rise and fall more dramatically. My lips move away from her as I find my way to her neck, immediately licking from her collarbone to right under her ear, and then biting down on the same sweet spot I found last night. She’s moaning and writhing underneath me, her breathing becoming heavier as she makes it known how badly she wants to be touched, to be pleased. Seeing her like this turns me on so hard, never imagining she’d be so submissive, so willing to let someone else take control like this. In all the stories she’s told me of her crazy hookups with random girls, she’s always the one in control, even when she’s receiving. Right now though, it’s clear she’s given herself to me, surrendered to my touch and in her own world.

My mouth continues planting wet kisses across her neck and chest and she begins letting out very quiet whimpers, making it seem like I'm winding her up so much she’s about to explode. I feel her legs move under me, crossing them tightly, obviously searching for some sort of release. I move my hand to one of her thighs and pull them apart before planting my palm on her clothed center and grabbing her harshly. The long awaited contact makes her hips jolt up, forcing an even deeper pressure against her core resulting in a long, closed mouth moan. My desire continues to guide me as my hand moves under her shorts. I groan when I feel her arousal dripping down her thighs. I feel overwhelmingly turned on by how wet I’ve made her, how caught up in my touch she has become. I run my fingers between her lips, spreading around her wetness and watching her face contort in pleasure. Her eyes are closed and her hands are grabbing at her own boobs, continuing to move her body under me.

I let my index and middle finger slip up to her clit and as soon as I find it I begin wrapping tight circles around it. Billie whines louder and I put more pressure on her swollen bud, circling faster and tighter and letting my lips find their way back to her neck. “fuck y/n, yes, please yes” she moans out, begging for more of my touch. I’m caught in between wanting to suck sweetly on her neck or watch her face showing every ounce of pleasure I'm giving her. I pause my circles to run my fingers back up and down her pussy, collecting more of the wetness I’ve caused before going back up and finding her clit again. As I start to rub it again she opens her mouth, groaning loudly, no longer able to hold in her moans. “That's it baby, I wanna hear you, let me hear how good i’m making you feel” she lets out a gasp, as if she was holding her breath, and allows her sweet noises to spill from her. “god y/n yes, just like that don’t stop”

I lick up her neck again before sucking on her ear lobe, earning a loud groan and a buck of her hips. I continue to suck for a moment before releasing and whispering in her ear, “i fucking love making you feel good baby” she closes her lips tightly again, humming as I speed up my circles. Her clit is even more swollen now, making it easier for me to add pressure to my touch. Billie’s breathing speeds up, It’s clear she's drunk off my touch, hypnotized by pleasure. I feel her legs begin to shake and I salivate, knowing I'm about to make her cum. I can’t take my eyes off of her and my mouth opens before I even have time to think about what I’m saying, “cum for me billie, moan my name and cum for me” that’s all it took before she grabbed the sheets hard, back arching off the bed and the sweet sounds of her orgasm filling the room. “y/nnn fuckkkkkkkkk” she yells out as her legs shake hard with my continued stimulation “that’s right baby let go for me, that feels good huh?” she nods her head rapidly and the moans coming out of her travel straight to my own pussy. As she comes down for the high I slow my circles, then remove my hand, already missing the contact I had her with. Her eyes open as I bring my fingers to my mouth, eager to taste her cum. I moan at the sweetness, never expecting it to taste so good and she smiles, watching me lick her wetness off of me with pure hunger.

I feel as if I must literally be glowing, so high from finally getting to please a woman, so high from getting to watch as I make Billie cum. I am so so gay, so fucking gay, gay for Billie specifically. I want to spread her legs and taste all of her, devour her and make her cum over and over again. I want all of it, all right now. Instead I lay my head on her chest, helping her resurface and give her love after her high. “You are so insanely beautiful Billie, I hope you know that” I kiss her cheek as the last of my words hit my lips. Billie’s breathing is heavy, trying to control it as she laughs to herself, clearly shocked at what just happened. “How are you so fucking good at that, have you secretly been fucking women for years?” Billie finally says. “Fuck I wish, I’m just flicking my bean constantly” I laugh out boldly, her giggles mixing with mine. “Mmmm well lucky you, and lucky me now too, you know what the fuck you’re doing y/n” she blushes at her words, hit with the memories of the state I had her in just a few moments ago. “maybe with my fingers yea, but don’t have such high hopes for the rest” I tell her honestly, expressing my continued nervousness of all of this. “We’ll see, we’ll see” she giggles as she kisses me, “seems like you’re a natural, whispering all that nasty shit in my ear while you make me feel like im fucking floating” I hide my face slightly embarrassed at her calling me out for my quite dirty words that came out so naturally. Never have I been a talker during sex, but it seems like everything is different with Billie.

“Bashful now, are ya?” Billie giggles as she slides out of the bed, kissing me on the forehead before walking into the bathroom. Taking off her wet shorts, she turns to face me in the doorway, her fully naked body now on display for me. She’s so confident, so comfortable showing herself to me, so easy about what all is going on between us suddenly. My eyes follow her curves as I stare at her body, not even trying to hide my inability to look away. My attraction for her is so intense it feels it could kill me. My love for her seems to be the same, but I don’t think I’m ready to let myself begin to process that just yet. As I continue to stare, eyes wide, a smile planted across my face, heart pounding in my chest, and between my legs, she just stands there and smiles. She giggles as she begins striking poses, goofing off like always. “Fuck I’m so gay” I almost shout, my eyes still glued to her body as Billie and I both laugh at my statement. “Alright gay girl, I’m getting in the shower, you coming in or not?” I hopped out of bed as soon as I heard her words, running into the bathroom and shutting the door behind me, behind us.

I kinda wanna make this a series… or a wattpad book 👀

[gtgbabie0]

-Vi x Reader

Synopsis: {The aftermath of the war seems a little more bearable with your girlfriend there by your side}

For my other works my Masterlist is here <3

need her. Enjoy my lovelies 💕

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The weeks after the war seemed to last centuries, the hours dragged on painfully slow and it felt like no matter how early you went to sleep, you could never get enough to carry you throughout the day— not that sleeping was easy anyway.

The council meetings were stressful, with each member bringing a mountain of different problems that were all so important in their own right— change needed to happen and each moment you weren’t actively working was wasted, or so you say.

However the exhaustion was turning you into a mess, Vi could see it as clear as day no matter how many times you put on that sweet smile and promised her you were ‘fine’ with a warm hand against her cheek. You weren’t fine.

Vi knew you would crash and burn sooner or later, and by the looks of you, it would be much sooner than she’d liked.

“Stupid damn thing.” You huff out in anger, hands trembling in a mixture of pain and frustration as you try to open the gauze— the damn plastic concealing it might as well have been superglued together and your hands just won’t steady themselves enough to get a good hold.

You grasp at the edges of the sink basin, giving up, the porcelain cold against your clammy hands. It was a slight relief, but not enough. With a ragged breath, you drop your head slightly to avert your gaze from your reflection in the mirror. You couldn’t take it, between your injured eye and the ache in your head, you felt as if you were teetering on the line of insanity.

“Here, let me.” The sound of Vi’s soft voice ripples through the tension that clouds you, her calloused hand presses against your upper back and you sigh in something akin to relief.

A strange feeling of embarrassment curls around your already weary heart, how long has she been standing there— watching you crumble?

You shake your head stubbornly, “I can do it myself,” you tell her, in faux confidence— trying to convince yourself, biting down on the inside of your bottom lip as you try to regain control.

You take the gauze packet in your hands once more before tugging it open harshly, your elbow collides into the bottle of antiseptic causing it to hit the tiled floor with a bounce. It felt like the universe was testing you, laughing at how you kept failing.

“I know you can, just let me take care of you for once, yeah?” Vi whispers, picking up the antiseptic bottle and placing it down on the countertop— her hand falling from your shoulder blade to rest on the small of your back.

But you were so tightly coiled with your own maelstrom of emotions that you continue to try and push her away, her hand fighting yours in a push and pull. You didn’t want her to see you like this, you were better than this.

“I can do—”

“Stop it, stop. I’m helping you.” She interrupts you with a sternness in her tone that it takes you aback slightly.

You nod reluctantly, caving in with a shaky sigh as you let her turn you around to face her by your hips, your lower back resting up against the sink countertop and she notices the way you avoid her gaze, it hurts her a little.

A silence settles between the pair of you as Vi takes off the gauze that covers your eye— revealing the patch that protected the sensitive wound from possible infection. Her knuckles brush along your cheek so tenderly that you can’t help but lean into her touch, it was almost an instinct at this point.

“It’s ugly,” you state, looking up at her through your eyelashes as you watch her frown in disagreement with your words, a small scoff escaping her lips.

“It’s not— it’s healing, you’re not ugly.” She tells you, a gentle firmness dancing through her tone as she continues to admire you through loving eyes and your shoulders drop— it’d been far too long since you let yourself relax, the ache in between your shoulders could attest to that.

“Besides it adds to your flair.” She adds with a small smirk.

“My flair?” You repeat through a breathy chuckle, rolling your eye as a smile begins to teeter against your lips. It felt good to have her like this, gently stroking your face, standing close to you… it felt good to lean on her for support.

Vi’s own smile widens at the sound of your chuckle, such a sweet noise that sends a wave of comfort through her chest. Even though you were exhausted and in pain, you still managed to make her heart bleed in all the best ways, although if she’s being completely honest it doesn’t take much at all for you to bring that out in her.

“Mhm, yep, it adds a certain charm.” She nods confidently, her fingertips gently grazing along your cheekbone to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“It also makes the easiest things feel impossible, everything just feels off.” You sigh, tilting your head to nuzzle against the roughness of her palm ever so slightly.

A sympathetic look flashes through her pretty eyes, god knows it was true— too many times had she watched you lose your cool over what used to be 'simple things' as you familiarised yourself with the loss of sight. Her heart broke for you, she hated seeing you like this and she hated not being able to do more for you, to just take all your pain away.

“I know baby, I know— but you’re handling it like a champ,” Vi whispers, letting her hand drop from her face to grab a clean gauze pad, her eyes flickering between yours and her hands as she readies the fabric— offering you a small reassuring smile.

With careful fingers she places the gauze over your eye, securing it down with medical tape and she winces as you suck a sharp hiss from your clenched teeth, your eyebrows knitting together in pain— Vi quickly pulls her hands away, not wanting to cause you any more pain with a soft “Sorry, sorry,”— but you’re quick to hold her hands in your own, giving them both a comforting squeeze.

“It’s okay,” you promise her, looking at her with a faint pleading in your gaze— wordlessly begging her to hold you and not let go, to not pull away, and immediately she knows what you want. She could read you like an open book.

So without a modicum of hesitation, she loops her strong arms around your shoulders to bring you close to her body— wrapping you up in a protective hold and you could practically feel the heaviness on your shoulders lessen as you melt into her with a small pitiful noise that makes her heart clench.

“You’re not alone— you don’t have to do this all by yourself, I’m right here.” She seals the promise with a gentle kiss against your hairline before cupping either side of your face, tilting your head backwards slightly so she can meet your gaze.

Vi watches the way your eye flutters close in contentment when she strokes your cheeks with her thumbs— your fingers grasping at the fabric of her tank top almost as if you were afraid she would slip between your fingers.

But lo and behold she doesn’t, she’s standing right in front of you, cupping your face, with such a reverent expression it causes your breath to hitch in your throat and you think you would cry if you had the energy to.

“Vi,” you breathe softly, a sob threatening to spill over your lips which you conceal with a sigh as she bumps her forehead against your own— her hand rests against the side of your neck before slowly slipping to cup the back of your head, fingertips dragging along your scalp soothingly.

“I’ve got you, right here.” She replies in understanding, pressing her lips to your own in a loving kiss— one that dismantles you completely and you’re finally ready to admit you needed sleep and a day of rest… or maybe two, Vi would be there to ensure it.

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[dreamscapeee222]

Jinx Headcannons

Jinx x reader

Masterlist

A/n: This doesn't spoil season 2 of Arcane but I could write something that will involve its act ^^

Jinx keeps you on your toes, never quite knowing what to expect, but always in the best way. One second, you’re caught up in her chaos, and the next, she’s throwing you a surprise adventure. She’ll grin, grab your hand, and tug you along, brushing her lips against your cheek as she says, “Let’s go cause some trouble.”

She’s the type to wrap you in a hug while she’s mid-explosion, laughing manically and pulling you closer, even if she’s covered in dirt or sparks. Her way of showing affection is loud, messy, and completely full of life, always with that “I’m so glad you’re mine” vibe underneath it all. Sometimes, she’ll press a quick, playful kiss on your forehead, leaving you laughing and breathless.

Beneath all the madness, Jinx is always there to make sure you’re okay, even if she doesn’t show it in the most conventional way. When you’re having a rough day, she’ll sneak up behind you, wrap her arms around your waist, and rest her chin on your shoulder, mumbling softly, “Stop worrying. I’ve got you.”

Jinx loves to tease you—playfully getting under your skin in the sweetest ways. She’ll smirk and tease, “What’s wrong, shy? Did I steal your heart or just make you blush?” before pulling you into a quick kiss that lingers for a moment longer than you'd expect, her fingers grazing your cheek as she pulls away.

Jinx is never one to sit still, and when it’s just the two of you, expect random, chaotic adventures—like late-night escapades or explosions just for fun. You can’t help but laugh as she pulls you into it, her arms circling your waist to keep you close, whispering, “You’re in this mess with me now.”

After a day of causing mayhem, Jinx will crawl up beside you, resting her head on your lap, her hair a bit wild but her eyes soft and tired. She’ll take your hand, bringing it to her cheek as she looks up at you, saying quietly, “You’re the only thing that keeps me from blowing everything up. Thanks for sticking around,” her voice tender in a way that makes your heart flutter.

Every once in a while, Jinx surprises you with the most random little things—a handmade necklace, a goofy drawing of the two of you, or even just a sudden kiss and an “I love you.” She’ll hand it over with a grin and, before you can react, pull you into a quick, warm hug, her arms lingering just a little longer than you expect.

Jinx doesn’t show her concern in the usual way. When you’re hurt or feeling low, she’ll be right there, pulling you close, her hands a little shakier than usual, trying to hold it together for you. If you’re feeling down, she might cup your face gently in her hands, her eyes serious as she says, “You mean everything to me.”

The way Jinx loves you isn’t always conventional. One minute, she’s blowing things up and laughing, and the next, she’s holding your hand, staring at you with a soft, rare smile. “Wouldn’t want anyone else to put up with my crazy,” she’ll say, pulling you close by the waist and giving you a quick, affectionate kiss on the lips.

Even after all the chaos, Jinx can’t help but flirt with you. She’ll walk up to you, throw her arms around your neck and whisper, “You know, you make chaos look way too cute,” before stealing a kiss, her hands lingering on the back of your neck as she pulls you even closer.

Jinx’s past is a heavy burden she often hides behind her chaos and manic energy, but she’s learned to lean on you for comfort. When the pain gets too overwhelming, she’ll find herself reaching out for you, desperate for the kind of stability you offer. She’ll bury her face in your chest, her voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t know how to do this without you. You’re the only one who makes me feel like... maybe I can be more than this.” You’re the one who listens when she talks about her fears, the one who helps her work through her anger, and the one she trusts with the broken pieces of her heart.

Requests may be sent. Only SFW.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

tumblr hates women and wont let me post from my inbox pls enjoy this clunky screenshot i hate my life

Summary: The gang comforting youngersister!reader after she gets cheated on. Warnings: cheating, bad ex Author's note: forgive me ladies of seperate headcannons, i am doing it all in one fic im soooo slleeeepyy </3, also forgive me lady haters of y/n and all the weird bf/n thingys i literally do not know what to call this evil ex boyfriend im not ramona flowers i am so sorry.

Tears dropped past your eyes like pearls. You wiped them hastily as you walked along the street, hugging the curb and praying it was just a little warmer. Your shivering breath came out in cold fog and your lashes were cold with fresh tears. You're not usually in a state like this, shaken and crying, walking alone on the street near night, but your boyfriend of 1 year just cheated on you with his 'girl that got away', and as much as you wanted to be cozied up right now, the thought of being alone for another night struck you deep down. You dragged your feet walking to the Curtis's house, you would rather die than burden the sweetest family in town with your silly tears, but you craved their comfort. When you got there, the TV was still on, the familiar voice of Mickey Mouse putting a soft smile on your lips. Two-Bit must be there, he'd surely make you laugh. You knocked lightly, knuckles gently tapping on the worn wood of their door. "Hello?" You called, peeking your head in. To your shock, the whole gang was there, wrapped up in blankets and snacking on food like a girly sleepover. You giggled and Sodapop looked up. "Hey, Y/n!" He smiled warmly at you. The rest of the gang followed in a chorus of 'hello's and 'hi's. You waved, slightly turning to see the TV screen. The light of the television caught your tear stained cheeks. "Oh, Y/n, what's wrong?" Johnny asked, concern etched onto his face. "Hm?" You asked, looking up, momentarily forgetting about your past woes until you were met with worried eyes from everyone in the room, (except Dallas, who's gaze was still as hard as steel). Your hand moved to your cheek, lightly swiping over the tear-tracks, trying to remove the stain from your skin, erase the issues, sink into ignorance. Darry got up and handed you a tissues and then Pony followed, giving you a side hug. Your eyes welled with tears. "What's wrong, Y/n?" Steve repeated, getting up and patting your back lightly. You blinked, but the tears fell anyways. "My..boyfriend, he cheated on me," You said, inbetween sobs. Pony hugged you tighter, his actions compensation for his lack of words. "Oh, kid," Darry said affectionately, a sad smile on his lips as he pushed your hair from your face. Steve led you to the middle of the room, the center of the blankets, and the perfect spot in front of the TV. Two-Bit moved over to make room for you. As soon as you sat, the rest of the gang jumped to comfort you. Two-Bit covered your shoulders with blankets and Sodapop ran to get your favorite drinks. Johnny lightly wrapped his arm around your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. Dallas, however, sat on the couch, flipping his favorite switchblade, face unmoving. "What was your boyfriend's name again?" Dallas asked, out of the blue. Two-Bit turned to him, eyebrow raised. "That's not ominous at all.." He retorted, making you laugh slightly. He grinned to himself at pulling a laugh from you. "Ex..and his name is Bf/n" You bit your lip at the thought of him. So much time, and effort, and love that just disappeared. You whispered a 'thank you' to Ponyboy who handed you a warm mug of Darry's famous hot cocoa. "Bf/n? Really? That guy..." Dallas said, eyes never moving from the gleam of his blade. "You're freaking me out, man" Sodapop laughed. "No, I just mean...well I've fought the guy before, he's nothing special." Dallas looked up and shrugged. "You gotta get better at choosin' your men, kid." "Yeah, that sounds real smart coming from you," You rolled your eyes, the weight on your shoulders finally easing a bit. "Yeah, Dal' you're not exactly Cupid," Steve joked. "Better than you and that one chick down at the town fair," Dally retorted and you giggled at the memories. As the guys chattered over eachother, Darry came back and sat down, placing more blankets over you. "Hey, do you need something else?" Johnny asked, quietly, his voice underneath all the chatter but still the most prominent to you. You shook your head with a smile gracing your lips. "This is good."

[lovelytsunoda]

nothing matters | lance stroll

summary: the first smutmas installment. crying after sex? slightly more common than you would think.

pairing: lance stroll x female reader!

warnings: depictions of sex, very emotional lmao my girl is stressed the fuck out and needs lance to help calm her down with his dick <3, consent checks are sexy! mentions of anxiety, crying after sex, super sweet lance and lots of aftercare.

"holy fuck, angel, you feel fucking incredible."

lance's fingers fisted the bedsheets as he continued to thrust, keeping a steady pace. she moaned underneath him, sharp fingernails digging into his back. her arousal was dripping on the sheets, his cock bringing her to the brink of pleasure.

and somehow, it still wasn't enough.

"more." she whispered, using her legs to try and draw him closer. "lance, baby, please."

"grab my hand, baby." he encouraged, taking her hand in his. "i know you love it when you feel close to me." his voice was husky as he kissed her, groaning into her mouth.

she had come from work as a ball of nerves. it had been a long day from the start to the end of her shift. everything that could have gone wrong in the office had, and by lunch she'd given herself a migraine. when she came home, she had basically thrown herself at lance, hoping that there was something that could be done to loosen her up a bit.

"you're doing so good, princess. just hang on for me and let me take you there."

she nodded, mind starting to go fuzzy from pleasure. her breathing was laboured, her chest starting to feel heavy. the big ball of anxiety that had settled on her sternum earlier that day was fighting for release.

"deep breaths, sweetheart. come on, breathe with me."

lance paused, resting his forehead against hers, and she met his eyes as she started to inhale deeply. after a few breaths, she felt the pain in her chest start to subside.

she was safe. lance was her sweet lover boy, and he was making her feel incredible.

"you okay?"

"yeah." she swallowed, resting one hand against the side of his face. "just a little tense still."

"do you want to keep going?"

"yes, please."

lance jumped right back in, starting slowly before building up the pace of his thrusts. she closed her eyes and arched her back, moaning as lance's cock slipped in and out of her, one of his hands moving to her clit.

"that's it, sexy girl. fall apart on my cock. you're in good hands. let go for me, you're safe, darling." he knew he was running his mouth, starting to ramble a little, but he also knew what she needed to feel safe and loved <3.

"jesus christ, lance." she breathed, burying her face in the warm skin of his shoulder. he smelled like expensive cologne and sweat, but she wasn't really paying attention to all of that.

"i've got you." he breathed, lips ghosting over her neck as he used both arms to pull her close, hips driving into her under the covers.

"fuck!" she came with something that sounded similar to a sob, the pressure building and building and building until it popped like a very anti-climactic balloon.

she fell limp in her lover's arms, a few tears escaping from the corner's of her eyes. she breathed deeply, chest shaking as she realized what was happening. she drew back from lance, swiping her fingers under her eyes to clear away the salty tears.

"god, i needed that." she sniffled quietly. "thank you."

concern crept into lance's features as he pulled out of her, moving to discard the filled condom. "sweet girl, what's wrong?"

"nothing's wrong. these are good tears, i promise!" she tried to laugh. "i'm just under a lot of stress at work and my emotions are a fucking wreck right now. i don't know what's wrong with me."

unwilling to watch his lover fall to pieces in such a way, lance pulled her close to his chest, hoping that feeling his strong arms wrapped around her slender frame, or hearing the beating rhythm of his heart, would be enough to bring her back to the present.

"hey, pretty girl, it's okay. you're okay. nothing is wrong with you. you just needed a release, and i totally understand that. i enjoyed every moment with you. you did so good, princess. you always do."

he kissed her head softly, brushing a flyaway bang out of her eyes. he kissed her closed eyelids, and then her lips, holding her softly and tenderly.

"i want you to go and splash some water on your face and put on something comfortable. i'm going to go and get you a glass of water and something sweet, okay? and then we can curl up in bed and watch a few episodes of mike and molly. if you're up for it, we can even go for a round two later."

she smiled softly, leaning up to kiss him. "i like the sounds of that."

climbing out of bed, she wrapped the throw blanket form the foot of the bed around her body before tip-toeing to the bathroom, where she ran a brush through her hair and splashed some water on her face. she dressed in her warmest and coziest flannels before pressing a cold compress to each of her eyes.

she heard movement in the bedroom and poked her head out of the ensuite. lance was balancing a tray filled with two glasses of ice water, two mugs of hot chocolate and what appeared to be two massive slices of christmas cheescake.

"did you make cheesecake while i was out?"

lance smiled sheepishly, playing with the hair at the back of his neck. "i gave it a try while you were at work. i actually burned the crust on the first batch, so i gave those ones to scotty. this is the second attempt."

she laughed, pulling him in for a hug and a soft kiss. "i'm sure they're perfect. i love you."

"i love you more."

[kathlare]

inked in love

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: After a successful qualifying session in Montreal, Lando Norris finds himself in a tattoo shop with his boss, Zak Brown, who’s getting a commemorative tattoo. Inspired by their playful banter, Lando decides to make a bold, sentimental gesture for Amelie, marking a small piece of himself with a tribute to her.

Wordcount: 1.0 k

Warnings: just fluff

June 6th, 2024 - Montreal, Canada

The streets of Montreal were buzzing with fans and excitement as Lando Norris walked out of the McLaren motorhome after a solid qualifying session. He had bagged P3, and while it wasn’t pole, it was still a prime spot to fight for the podium—and maybe even a win. Zak Brown, his boss and occasional partner-in-crime, clapped him on the back with a wide grin.

—Good job today, kid,— Zak said. —You earned yourself a night off. What do you say we head to that tattoo shop I mentioned?—

Lando smirked. Zak had been talking about this tattoo ever since his Miami win last month. He wanted to commemorate the team’s victory with a track outline on his forearm.

—Sure,— Lando said with a shrug. —Why not? Let’s get you inked up, boss.—

As they walked into the tattoo shop, the smell of antiseptic and ink greeted them. The place was modern, with sleek black furniture and walls adorned with framed artwork. Zak looked around like a kid in a candy store, while Lando leaned casually against the counter, texting Amelie.

Lan🧡: Guess where I am.

Ames💛: Considering the time? A bar or a bad decision.

Lan🧡: Close. Tattoo shop with Zak.

Ames💛: OMG, no way. Is Zak actually doing it?

Lan🧡: Yep. Miami track. Says it’s “team spirit.” 😂

Ames💛: Love that for him. Are YOU getting one? 👀

Lan🧡: Tempted. What should I get?

Ames💛: Hmm… a tribute to your incredible girlfriend? Maybe my face on your arm.

Lan🧡: Bold choice. What about your name?

Ames💛: Nah, too basic. Do an “A” or something cute.

Lan🧡: Bet.

Ames💛: You wouldn’t.

Lan🧡: Watch me.

Lando chuckled at their banter, but as he looked around the shop, an idea sparked in his mind. It was reckless, maybe even stupid, but it was also... perfect.

When Zak got called to the chair, Lando casually approached one of the artists, a young woman with bright purple hair.

—Hey,— he said, lowering his voice. —Think you could fit me in for something small?—

The artist raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Zak, who was laughing as he showed the artist his design.

—What are we talking about?— she asked.

Lando tapped his shoulder, just below the edge of his shirt sleeve. —A small ‘A’ here. Simple, clean, nothing fancy.—

The artist nodded. —Easy enough. You sure about this?—

Lando grinned. —Completely.—

While Zak was busy wincing through his session, Lando slipped into the second chair. The artist prepped his shoulder, and as the needle buzzed to life, he felt a mixture of excitement and nerves.

—This your first tattoo?— she asked as she worked.

—Yeah,— Lando admitted. —But it’s for someone special, so I think it’s worth it.—

The tattoo didn’t take long—just a few minutes of sharp pressure before the artist leaned back with a satisfied nod.

—All done,— she said, handing him a mirror.

Lando craned his neck to look at the tiny ‘A’ etched onto his skin. It was subtle, just a couple of centimeters tall, but it was perfect.

—Looks great,— he said, his smile widening.

Back at the hotel, Lando called Amelie.

—What’s up, troublemaker?— she teased as she answered, her face lighting up on the screen.

—Oh, nothing much,— he said casually. —Just wanted to show you something.—

He angled the camera to his shoulder, pulling his shirt slightly aside to reveal the fresh tattoo.

Amelie froze.

—Lando,— she said, her voice a mix of disbelief and awe. —You didn’t.—

—I did,— he replied, grinning like a kid who’d just gotten away with something naughty.

She stared at the screen, her fingers covering her mouth. —You seriously got an ‘A’ for me?—

—For you,— he confirmed, his tone softer now. —It’s where you usually kiss me, so... felt right.—

Her heart felt like it might burst. —Lando... that’s the sweetest, and dumbest, thing you’ve ever done.—

—You love it,— he said confidently.

—I do,— she admitted, shaking her head with a laugh. —But if you ever regret it....—

—Not a chance,— he interrupted. —I love you, Amelie. And this? It’s just ink. You’re what matters.—

She smiled, her eyes glistening. —You’re such a sap, Norris.—

—Only for you,— he shot back, winking.

As they continued talking, teasing, and laughing, Amelie couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by how much he cared. Lando Norris, reckless and endearing as ever, had a piece of her etched onto his skin—and onto her heart.

[nameless-ken]

Bucky Barnes x Reader - Part Five

Word count: 9.5k (this is a long one)

Warnings: angst, PTSD, mentions of a car crash, death, mentions of death, fluff too because I have to add lightheartedness with angst

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |

Masterlist

The apartment is quiet except for the soft hum of the heater. Alpine lay curled up on Bucky’s lap, her purring the only sound in the room. Bucky stares blankly at the darkened window, his thoughts tangling. His metal fingers idly stroke Alpine’s fur, the sensation grounding him, even if his mind refuses to settle.

He thought of Y/N—her laugh, the warmth in her eyes, the way she makes Elizabeth light up with joy. The past few weeks have been something he hasn’t dared hope for in years: peaceful. But even as he replays those moments in his mind, doubt gnaws at him. Does he really deserve this kind of happiness? Could someone like him—damaged, haunted—be what Y/N needs?

Alpine stretches, her tail flicking against his hand, pulling him from his spiral. He sighs heavily. His phone buzzes on the table, and he leans over to check the notification.

"Steve: Let's meet up at Sam's tomorrow. Something’s come up. We need to talk."

Bucky’s stomach sinks. He sets the phone back down, dreading whatever Steve has to share. It’s always something, isn’t it? His past never lets him rest.

Alpine meows softly, sensing his unease, and nuzzles his hand. He scratches behind her ears absentmindedly before reaching for the notebook resting on the coffee table. The worn cover feels familiar in his hands, a tether to his scattered thoughts.

He flips past pages filled with his looping handwriting—fragments of memory, observations, and the occasional attempt at poetry. He finds a blank page and pauses, the pen hovering above it as if unsure where to start. Finally, he starts:

Am I even capable of being what someone else needs? Or am I just pretending I can be normal, that I can leave it all behind?

The words hang on the page, stark and accusing. His jaw tightens as he continues.

Y/N deserves someone whole, someone who can give her everything without hesitating. And I… I hesitate. I second-guess every good thing because I don’t believe I’m allowed to have it. But then she smiles, and for a moment, I think… maybe. Maybe it’s okay to try. But is trying enough? I put up a front around her. I suppress my struggles around everyone as to appear normal. 

He stops, pressing the pen harder into the paper than he meant to. The letters blur as his vision clouds, memories of cold steel restraints and harsh voices pressing in.

Alpine shifts on his lap, her weight reminding him where he is. He exhales shakily and sets the notebook aside, rubbing a hand down his face.

Whatever Steve and Sam are coming to talk about, he already knows it will dredge up parts of his past he’d rather forget. And if those parts ever reach Y/N, what then? Would she stay? Or would she look at him the way so many have before—like a problem to fix, or worse, like something broken beyond repair?

He’s been too afraid to let her see his metal arm. It’s more than just the limb—it’s the weight of the memories it carries, the pain it represents. He’s ashamed of it, of what it reminds him of every time he looks at it. The thought of her seeing it, of her being hurt or repulsed by the cold, unfeeling steel, terrifies him. What if she sees the arm and, in it, sees the broken man it belongs to?

He stands, Alpine hopping off his lap with a soft protest. Walking to the window, he stares out at the city below, the faint glow of streetlights shimmering against the glass. His reflection stares back at him—tired, burdened, and unsure.

His phone buzzes again, another notification lighting up the darkened room. This time, it’s a message from Y/N:

"Just thinking about you. Hope you’re doing okay."

The tightness in his chest loosens just slightly. He doesn’t reply right away, instead resting his forehead against the cool glass. The heater hums on, Alpine’s purring resuming as she curls back into her spot.

For now, at least, the world feels a little less heavy.

The next morning, Bucky shows up at your apartment, your usual bright smile faltering when you see the dark circles under Bucky’s eyes.

“You okay?” you ask softly, your hand brushing against his arm. He flinches slightly but covers it up with a tight smile.

“Didn’t sleep great,” he mutters.

You tilt your head, unconvinced. “Would you like to come in for coffee or to the usual cafe?”

Bucky hesitates, his eyes flicking between you and the open door behind you. The warmth in your voice and the gentle concern in your eyes make his chest ache in a way he can’t explain. He shouldn’t have come here, not like this. Not when his mind is a storm he hasn’t figured out how to weather.

“Coffee sounds good,” he finally says, his voice quiet. “Here is fine.”

You smile softly, stepping aside to let him in. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get the coffee started.”

As you move to the kitchen, Bucky takes a seat on your couch, his gaze drifting around, admiring all the details–cozy, filled with small, personal touches that feel so distinctly you. There’s a stack of books on the coffee table, a big blue fluffy blanket draped over the arm of the couch, and a framed photo of you and two little boys sitting on a shelf. His heart clenches at the sight of it.

You hum softly as you prepare the coffee, a light tune that drifts into the living room. It’s a sound that, despite himself, Bucky finds calming. He rests his elbows on his knees, staring down at his hands—the metal one covered with his usual leather glove, rests heavily against his thigh.

When you return with two mugs in hand, you pause, taking in the way his shoulders are hunched and the faraway look in his eyes. Setting the mugs down on the table, you sit beside him, close but not too close.

“Hey,” you say gently, drawing his attention back to you. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me.”

Bucky exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing,” he lies, his voice strained. “Just...Steve and Sam want to talk. Probably something from my past catching up to me again.”

Your brow furrows with concern. “Do you want me to be there for support?”

His eyes widen slightly, and he shakes his head quickly. “No. No, it’s not...you don’t need to be involved in that.”

“Okay,” you say softly, not wanting to push him. “But if there’s ever anything you need, I’m here. You know that, right?”

He nods, swallowing hard. The sincerity in your voice makes his chest tighten. For a moment, he considers telling you everything—his fears, his doubts, his nightmares. But the words don’t come. Instead, he manages a small, grateful smile.

“I know,” he says quietly. “Thank you.”

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a while, sipping coffee. Your presence is steady, unwavering, and though Bucky doesn’t say it, it’s exactly what he needs. Your quiet understanding wraps around him like a safety net, catching the parts of him that feel like they’re constantly slipping through the cracks.

Eventually, he glances at the clock on the wall and sighs. He places his mug down on the table, the scrape of ceramic on wood making you glance up.

“I should get going,” he says, his voice low but steady.

You frown, clearly not wanting him to leave just yet. “Are you sure? You could stay a little longer.”

He shakes his head, standing and running a hand through his hair. “Steve and Sam are waiting. Whatever it is, it’s better to just deal with it sooner than later.”

You stand, too, following him to the door. Your fingers brush his as you hand him his jacket, and he tenses slightly but doesn’t pull away.

“Bucky,” you say softly, your voice drawing his gaze to yours. “Whatever it is, you’ll get through it. And if you need me, I’m just a call away.”

He holds your gaze for a moment, his blue eyes searching yours, his expression unreadable. His attention flickers briefly to your lips before a faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth—small, hesitant, but real.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, his voice low as he shrugs on his jacket. He pauses, a flicker of indecision crossing his face, and then leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. The warmth of his lips and the roughness of his stubble send a soft flutter through you.

The gesture is fleeting, almost shy, but it leaves you both standing still for a beat longer than usual.

"I'll call you later." Bucky assures you.

You recover first, smiling warmly. “You better,” you say, your tone light yet reassuring.

His smile lingers for just a moment before he steps out the door. As Bucky steps back out into the chilly, morning air, he exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The weight in his chest is still there, but somehow, it feels just a little easier to carry. He adjusts his jacket and starts toward Sam’s apartment.

With every step, the quiet doubts whisper at the back of his mind. The fear of what Steve and Sam might bring, the worry of dragging his past into his present. But he forces himself to keep moving.

If there’s one thing he’s learned over the years, it’s that facing the ghosts of his past is the only way to keep them from haunting his future.

As Bucky enters Sam's apartment, Steve meets him halfway into the living room.

“We don’t have all the details yet, but we’ve been hearing rumors. Someone's digging into your past, asking questions about your arm—your history. Could be anyone, but it’s enough to raise a red flag.” Steve informs as Bucky stands, fists clenching at his side. 

His mind races, memories of his past flickering in and out of focus—things he's tried to forget, buried under layers of time and effort.

“What kind of questions?” Bucky’s voice comes out rough, as though it was a struggle to ask, to even speak of it again.

Sam shoots him a glance, his face serious. “Nothing too specific yet, but enough to make it clear someone’s poking around. Doesn’t take much to stir up old ghosts.”

Bucky’s fingers flex at his side, his metal arm feeling heavier than usual. He hates it, hates what it reminds him of. Every inch of him screams to keep it hidden, bury it, away from the world. But now, it seems like the past was coming back for him.

He exhales slowly, his mind clouded with the familiar weight of dread. “I thought I left that part of me behind. Thought I buried it deep enough that it couldn’t find me again.”

Steve’s gaze softens, his expression unwavering. He steps closer, resting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You don’t have to face this alone. We’re here, Bucky. You know that. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Sam nods, his face stoic but with a hint of reassurance. “Yeah. We’ve got your back. Whatever’s coming, we’ll handle it together.”

Bucky swallows hard, the knot in his chest tightening. He wants to believe them, but the past has a way of slipping through cracks, creeping back into his life when he least expects it. He isn’t sure he’s ready for whatever is waiting for him.

For a moment, he stands in silence, his eyes distant. Then he nods, his voice hoarse. “Alright. Let’s figure out what we’re up against.”

Steve gives him a firm, reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before turning toward the door. “We’ll take it one step at a time, Buck. Just keep your head up. And if things get too heavy, don’t hesitate to reach out. You know we’re here.”

With one last glance at Sam, Bucky turns and makes his way out of the apartment, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. But this time, he isn’t alone. And maybe that’s enough to face whatever is coming next.

The next day, Bucky and Elizabeth arrive at your apartment after school. Elizabeth is her usual excited self, bouncing around with a big grin on her face as she talks non-stop about her day. She runs inside, unaware of the tension hanging in the air, but Bucky is different. He’s quieter than usual, his expression distant. You notice it immediately, the way his shoulders are tense, his eyes too focused on something only he can see.

After a moment, Elizabeth disappears into your guest room, dumping out her backpack with some toys to play with. You turn your attention to Bucky. 

“Bucky,” you say softly, voice filled with concern. “How are you today? Is something bothering you?”  

He hesitates, his eyes flicking toward the door before settling on you. There’s a long pause before he speaks, and when he does, his voice is low, tight.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, but you can hear the strain. “Just some old stuff coming back to bite me.”

You cross your arms, frustration bubbling up but not wanting to push him to talk. You can see through him, the walls he’s built up. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know. I do care about you, and I want to help. But I can’t if you don’t let me in.”

Bucky glances at you, his jaw tight. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something, but then he just shakes his head. “It’s not that simple. You don’t know what it’s like to carry this around—to always be waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Then tell me,” you urge. “Let me in.”

Before he can respond, a loud crash suddenly cuts through the air. Your heart stops as the sound of shattering glass echoes from your guest room. You don’t even think; just spring into action, rushing toward the room with Bucky right behind.

You reach the doorway to the room at the same time. Elizabeth is huddled in the corner, her eyes wide with terror, staring at the broken window. A dark figure is retreating into the night, disappearing into the shadows before either of you can get a good look at them.

Bucky’s entire body goes rigid, his metal arm clenching instinctively. You see the shift in him—the moment his protective instincts take over. His jaw tightens as he looks at you, his expression hardening.

“Stay here,” he demands, his voice sharp, commanding. “Call Steve.”

You nod quickly, fear coiling in your stomach. You pull out your phone, dialing Steve’s number with trembling hands. As you wait for the call to connect, you look down at Elizabeth, her small form trembling in your arms. You whisper soothing words, but your own heart is racing, your thoughts scrambling to keep up with what just happened. You move with Elizabeth out of the guest room and into the living room, sitting on the couch with her curled up in your lap. 

“Shh, you’re safe,” you whisper softly, holding her tightly. “Bucky’s going to handle it. It’s going to be okay.”

Elizabeth doesn’t say anything, but she nods against you with tears streaming down her soft cheeks, the quiet terror in her face tears at you. You wish you could tell her everything’s fine, but you don’t know what’s coming next.

The phone rings once, twice, before Steve picks up. “Y/N? Everything okay? How are you?”

“Someone broke into my apartment,” you explain, your voice shaky. “Elizabeth and Bucky are here and everyone is okay, but they... they broke into my guest room window, and—Bucky’s after them.”

“Is Elizabeth alright?” Steve cuts in, his voice sharp with concern.

“She’s scared, but she’s fine, I have her with me” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “They ran off, but Bucky’s going after them. Please—hurry over. I am texting you my address.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon. Stay inside, don’t open the door for anyone else.”

You hang up, letting the phone fall beside you as you continue to hold Elizabeth. Her grip tightens around you as she presses closer, seeking comfort from the warmth of your embrace. You gently stroke her hair, murmuring soft reassurances.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetie,” you whisper again, though your own heart is far from calm. “Uncle Bucky and your dad will take care of this.”

But even as you speak the words, doubt creeps in. The broken window is a sign that things aren’t as simple as they seem. Whoever did this isn’t going to stop with a broken window. You shiver, the weight of the situation settling over you.

Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps reaches your ears. You look up to see Steve and Sam entering the apartment, their expressions grim. Without a word, they take in the situation—the broken window, the tension in the air, the terrified look on Elizabeth’s face. Steve moves toward the two of you, his eyes softening as he kneels down to Elizabeth’s level.

“Hey bub,” Steve says, offering her a warm smile despite the tension. “You doing okay?”

Elizabeth nods slowly, though her face is still pale. Steve wipes at the wetness on her cheeks, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her head. 

“We’ll take it from here,” he says. “Stay with her, Y/N. We’ll figure this out.”

Sam, already on his phone, glances at you once more. “We’ll handle it. Bucky’s not alone.”

The door clicks closed behind them, leaving you and Elizabeth in the quiet aftermath. You’re left with a sinking feeling in your stomach, knowing the fight’s not over yet—and whatever just happened, it’s only the beginning.

You glance toward the guest room—the broken window still gaping, the evidence of the intruder’s presence stark against the fading daylight. It’s a reminder that this wasn’t just some random occurrence. Someone deliberately targeted your home, your safe space. Whoever they were, they were watching.

Bucky’s protective instincts kicked in the moment the glass shattered. You know he’ll do whatever it takes to protect those he cares about. But still, there's a part of you that’s scared. Scared for Elizabeth. Scared for Bucky. Scared for what might be coming next.

You shake the thoughts from your head, focusing instead on Elizabeth. You need to stay calm for her. She needs you to be strong, even if you're falling apart inside.

After what feels like an eternity, you hear the soft click of the front door, and then the unmistakable sound of Bucky’s voice calling your name.

“Y/N?”

You jump to your feet, still holding Elizabeth tightly in your arms. She stirs at the sound of his voice, lifting her head to look around. You meet Bucky’s eyes as he enters the room, his face drawn with concern. His clothes are slightly rumpled, his expression more exhausted than angry, but you can see the relief in his eyes as he looks at you and Elizabeth.

“Is she okay?” he asks, his voice soft but laced with tension.

You nod, holding Elizabeth a little tighter. “She’s shaken, but she’s alright. You... you found them?”

Bucky exhales slowly, his gaze flicking briefly toward the broken window showing through the guest room door frame. His body language is guarded, but there’s a faint flicker of frustration in his eyes. “Yeah. They were long gone by the time I got out there. But I... I think they were watching. They knew exactly where to hit.”

You can hear the unease in his voice, the weight of his words sinking in. It wasn’t a random break-in. Whoever did this had a purpose.

Elizabeth shifts in your arms, her eyes flicking between the two of you. “Uncle Bucky,” she says quietly, her voice small, “is it... is it safe now?”

Bucky kneels in front of her, his metal hand resting gently on her shoulder. His expression softens as he meets her eyes. “Yeah, bee,” he says, his voice soothing. “It’s safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Elizabeth nods, but her face is still pale, her lips trembling just slightly. You can tell she’s trying to be brave, but the fear is still there, lurking beneath the surface.

“Let’s get going. We’ll stay at Steve’s for the night. It’s the safest place right now.” Bucky responds. “Pack anything you need but do it fast.” 

You nod, handing him Elizabeth as you rush to pack a bag, grabbing the essentials and closing the guest room door, not wanting to look at the damage right now. 

“Let’s go,” you say, voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

Bucky nods, he doesn’t look back as he ushers you both toward the door.

The drive to Steve’s house is a blur. The car is filled with an eerie silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. Elizabeth has her head resting against your shoulder as you sit beside her in the back seat, not wanting to leave her alone, her small body still trembling as she tries to hold it together. Every so often, you feel her fingers tighten around your hand, as if reminding herself you’re there, that she’s not alone.

Bucky drives with tense precision, his eyes scanning the rearview mirror every few seconds, always alert, always on edge. The streets blur as he takes you through the city, toward the familiarity of Steve’s home. 

When you finally pull up to Steve’s house, the security gates open almost immediately, and you’re ushered inside with a sense of relief, as though the weight of the world has been momentarily lifted off your shoulders. Bucky parks the car in the garage, and you help Elizabeth out, her small hand still clutching yours.

Inside, the house feels different from the night of the Friendsgiving. Steve is waiting in the foyer when you enter, his face lighting up when he sees Elizabeth. His usual warmth is tempered with concern, though, his eyes flicking over to Bucky for confirmation.

“You’re safe now.” Steve reassures, his voice low, eyes darting to Elizabeth’s tight grip on your hand.

You nod quickly, trying to keep your composure. “Thank you, for letting me stay over.”

“Of course. A friend of Bucky’s is now a friend of ours.” Steve gives you a small smile, trying to ease the night. 

Steve crouches down to Elizabeth’s level, opening his arms for her to fall into. She immediately wraps her arms around his neck. “Daddy’s got you. Let’s get you ready for bed bub.” 

“Oh, my darling,” You all glance up at Peggy’s voice. She appears at the top of the stairs as Steve carries Elizabeth up to her room. 

You watch in silence as the family reunite, coddling their daughter, making her feel safe. 

Bucky’s gaze softens at you, eyes meeting yours across the foyer. He doesn’t need to ask. It’s written on your face—the exhaustion, the concern, the fear still lurking beneath your calm exterior.

Bucky’s steps are quiet as he approaches, his expression steady but filled with empathy. "You’re safe here," he promises, grabbing your hand, squeezing it softly. "Take a breath. Let me make you a drink."

You nod, grateful for the offer but too tired to speak. You follow behind as he leads the way towards the kitchen. The sound of the fridge opening and the soft clink of glass are the only sounds that fill the space, an unfamiliar comfort in the quiet after the chaos.

The house feels warm and welcoming, but there’s a lingering tension in the air. The kind that stays even when everything is supposed to be alright. You can’t shake the feeling that whoever did this isn’t done. They know where you are now.

A soft cough pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to find Steve standing a few feet away, his posture rigid but there's a softness in his expression now, a layer of concern beneath the usual stoic demeanor. “You alright?” Steve asks, his voice quiet but carrying the weight of everything that’s happened tonight.

You take a deep breath, trying to find some semblance of control. "Just… processing," you say, the words coming out more rigid than you intended. "It’s just been a lot."

Steve nods, his gaze flicking over to where Bucky is gripping the counter top, his back tense facing you both.

“If you need anything… I mean, anything... you can stay here as long as you need. You are no longer just Elizabeth’s teacher. Anyone important to Bucky, is important to all of us. Bucky’s right, you’re safe. And we’re not going to let anything happen to anyone."

The words hit harder than you expect, a promise laced with sincerity and a little bit of pain—he means it, and it’s almost overwhelming to hear.

"Thank you," you whisper, barely able to keep the emotion in check. "I really appreciate everything."

As Steve turns to leave you and Bucky alone in the kitchen, you feel the weight of the situation sink back in.

Bucky sets the glass in front of you, his touch deliberate as he slides it across the counter. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’ll help.”

You don’t hesitate to take the drink, grateful for the gesture even if you’re not sure how much it will ease the tightness in your chest. The liquid is warm and slightly burns as it slides down your throat, but it doesn't take away the gnawing sense of unease.

Bucky stands beside you, his posture still tense, but there’s something softer in the way he watches you—his usual hardened exterior momentarily set aside.

"I know it's not much," he says, voice low, "but I won’t let anything happen to you. I’m sorry for bringing all this into your life. I know you didn’t ask for any of this. I guess this is why I was trying not to get too close.” 

You nod slowly, the weight of his words not lost on you. Bucky’s been through his own hell, and yet, here he is—still standing guard, still offering whatever help he can. It’s comforting in its own way, but it also reminds you how much is at stake.

You take a slow, steady breath, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of your glass as you absorb Bucky’s words. “You don’t have to apologize,” you say quietly, your voice hoarse but determined. “None of this is your fault. Just because something happened in your past, it doesn’t define your present.”

Bucky doesn’t respond right away, his gaze softening, a mixture of relief and something else flickering behind his eyes.

The quiet is interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. You turn, and there’s Peggy, standing at the doorway to the kitchen. She’s dressed comfortably, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, but her eyes are sharp, a knowing look crossing her face as she observes the situation.

“Everything alright?” Peggy asks, her voice warm but carrying an undertone of concern. She glances between you and Bucky, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in the scene.

“Yeah,” you reply quickly, though the exhaustion in your voice is impossible to hide. “Just… a long night.”

Peggy’s gaze softens immediately, her expression shifting into one of empathy. She steps fully into the kitchen, crossing the floor to stand beside you. “I’m just glad everyone is safe. Steve filled me in on the situation, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Her attention then shifts to Bucky, her eyes lingering on him for a moment before she speaks again. “There is only one guest room, but the couch is available too. Whatever you both prefer.”

Bucky’s lips twitch, the faintest hint of humor in his eyes as he responds, “I’ll take the couch, thanks.”

You glance at Bucky, a small sigh escaping you. "That's ridiculous," you say, your voice softer but firm. "You’ve done enough. We’ve already been through enough tonight. It’s okay… It’ll be easier if we’re together. I’ll feel safer, at ease, knowing you're there."

Bucky looks at you for a long moment, his jaw tightening slightly, as if weighing the offer. His expression is unreadable, but you can see the hesitation in his eyes.

Finally, he exhales, the tension easing from his shoulders as he nods. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” you affirm with a small, tired smile.

Peggy, who’s been quietly observing, smiles warmly at both of you. “Well, if you’re sure, then I’ll let you two get settled in. Have a good night. See you in the morning.”

As Peggy disappears out of the kitchen, Bucky turns to you, his gaze lingering for a moment before he steps closer. “I’ll keep you safe,” he promises again, his voice low and steady. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but this time, there’s a quiet certainty in his words.

You give him a small nod. “I know.”

Together, you make your way upstairs, the weight of the night still heavy but exhaustion taking over. Bucky leads the way into the room, his presence comforting despite the lingering shadows of fear. You can hear the soft hum of the house around you, the familiar sounds of Steve and Peggy moving a few doors down, here, in this quiet room, it feels like a moment of calm before the storm.

As Bucky takes off his jacket and shoes, you slip into the adjoined bathroom, changing into your pajamas, the soft fabric comforting against your tired skin. When you exit and glance over at Bucky, you see him standing still for a moment, his hand resting on the edge of the dresser, his posture rigid as though he's preparing himself for something.

You don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, but something about this moment feels more intimate than anything before. The thought that you’ve never seen Bucky’s metal arm, that piece of him he's always kept hidden, lingers in your mind. You watch him as he slowly pulls off his shirt, revealing the metal arm for the first time.

The sight takes you by surprise. It’s beautiful in its own way—sleek and strong—but there’s a quiet sadness in his eyes as he turns towards you, the weight of his past unmistakable.

Bucky catches your gaze, his expression tight. “I’m not… I’m not sure what you’re thinking,” he says softly, his voice steady but full of uncertainty. He reaches up, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “It’s not… it’s not who I am. But it’s all that was left after… the people who took me, who… did this.”

You don’t speak immediately, your gaze softening as you look at him, trying to convey everything you feel without words. You want to reassure him, but you're not sure how.

“It…it was blown off in battle," he continues, his voice distant, as though he’s reliving the moment. "The people who… kidnapped me—they gave me this. And they experimented on me. It’s not just the arm. But sometimes, this thing... It scares me. I don’t want you to be afraid of it, of me.”

His voice falters toward the end, and you can see the vulnerability in his eyes—vulnerability that he doesn’t let others see, but it’s here now, with you. He sits down on the bed, resting against the pillows. You crawl onto the bed beside him, feeling a pull to make him feel safe, just as he’s always made you feel.

“You don’t have to hide it from me, Bucky,” you say softly, scooting closer. “I’m not afraid of you. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Bucky exhales sharply, and for a moment, he looks away, his gaze conflicted. He sits there, motionless, before he finally looks back at you. “I’m sorry,” he mutters under his breath. “For all of this. I never meant to drag you into it.”

You feel a pang in your chest, seeing how deeply he feels this guilt. You reach out, placing your hand gently on his left arm, the cold, metal surface unfamiliar but comforting in its own way.

“You didn’t drag me into anything, Bucky,” you say, your voice steady, as you take his metal hand in yours and place it over your waist. “I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because I care about you.”

Bucky hesitates, his eyes darting from your face to his arm resting on your waist, unsure. It’s almost as if he’s afraid of pulling you closer, of touching you in a way that might break this fragile connection you’ve started to form.

But you know what you need, what you both need. You shift on the bed so that your body is pressed closer against his, and gently guide his arm to rest more over you. You close your eyes for a moment, willing him to let go of his hesitation.

“I know you won’t hurt me,” you whisper again, your voice calm, knowing what you’re asking him to do is not easy. “Please, just hold me. It’s okay.”

Bucky stares at you for a moment longer, and then, with a soft breath, he lays his arm down fully, pulling you into his chest. He wraps his left arm around you carefully, his metal hand resting against your back in a comforting, steady hold.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “You deserve better than this.”

You shake your head gently, pressing your cheek against his chest. “Stop apologizing,” you say, your voice firm but tender. “I’m here to stay, Bucky. You don’t have to carry this on your own anymore. And you won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Bucky’s breath catches slightly, and he pulls you a little closer, as though trying to make the words you’ve said real in the way he holds you. His heart beats steadily against your ear, and you can feel the weight of everything he’s been through, all the pain he carries—but it’s nothing you can’t bear.

“I’m grateful for every Friday afternoon you’ve picked Elizabeth up at school. So grateful we met each other.” you whisper, your words muffled against his chest. “For all the moments we’ve shared, no matter how small they seem. They’ve meant the world to me.”

Bucky’s heart seems to beat a little faster, his grip tightening around you, as though he’s afraid you might slip away if he doesn’t hold on just a little tighter.

Before you can say anything else, Bucky lifts your chin gently with his metal hand, his expression soft and full of longing. His lips find yours in a kiss that starts tender but deepens as the moment pulls you both in, the weight of everything you’ve just shared passing between you in a breathless, passionate kiss.

It’s a kiss full of everything—comfort, release, promises unspoken, and a bond that’s only just begun to take root. 

And for the first time in a long time, you both feel a little less alone.

The morning light streams through the curtains of the guest room, casting a soft, golden hue across the room. You shift slightly in the bed, stretching as the warmth of the covers cling to your body. The quiet calm of the house is comforting, and for a moment, you almost forget about the events of the night before.

Beside you, Bucky stirs, his movements slow and deliberate as he stretches out beside you. He smiles softly, his eyes still heavy with sleep. The warmth of his body beside yours make the morning feel even more intimate, and you find yourself smiling back at him, your hearts still wrapped in the same contentment from the night before. The quiet, tender moment is enough to make you feel at home in this space, with him.

"Morning," he mutters.

"Morning," you whisper against the stillness of the room.

There’s a small pause before Bucky rolls over to look at you, his face relaxes, his expression warm. "You sleep okay?"

You nod. "Yeah, it was perfect."

Bucky smiles again, and for a moment, neither of you move, content just to stay in the quiet together. But after a while, the sounds of movement downstairs reach your ears. The familiar hum of voices, the quiet clinking of dishes, and the faint scent of breakfast began to fill the air. It’s time to get up.

Bucky let out a low grunt as he sat up, rubbing his face. "Alright, let's go see what they’re cooking up."

You both swing your legs out of bed and make your way downstairs, your footsteps soft on the wooden floor. 

In the dining room, the table is set. Steve and Peggy are busy cooking breakfast, flipping pancakes and eggs, while Elizabeth sits at the table, coloring in her favorite book. Her face lights up when she sees you and Bucky enter, a wide grin spreading across her face.

"Good morning!" she beams, hopping out of her seat.

"Morning, bee," Bucky exclaims, ruffling her hair as he passes by.

Elizabeth turns to you with a hopeful look. "Can you sit beside me for breakfast?"

You smile at her, moving to take the empty seat beside her. "Of course."

Bucky takes the seat across from you two, settling in with a content sigh. Steve and Peggy appear with platters filled with eggs, pancakes and bacon before taking their seats. As everyone digs into breakfast, the conversation flows easily. Peggy shares a few stories, and Steve makes a few jokes, always quick with a smile. Elizabeth, happily eating her pancakes, chimes in every so often with thoughts on her coloring book, her enthusiasm contagious.

It was simple, quiet—a family breakfast that felt like it had been this way for years. You’re grateful for this company. It has been a long time since you’ve had “family” time like this. 

After a while, Elizabeth pauses, her fork mid-air, and then gasps. She points out the window with wide eyes. "Look! Look outside!"

Everyone turns to see the soft, white snow beginning to fall, the flakes drifting gently down from the sky, coating the backyard in a blanket of white.

The room is quiet for a moment as everyone admires the sight, and then Elizabeth breaks the silence, practically bouncing in her seat. "Can we go play in the snow? Please?"

"Well, how could we say no to that?" Peggy says, smiling at Elizabeth's eager face. "Let’s all go out and play."

"Sounds like a good plan," Steve agrees, rising from the table to grab his coat.

The group moves toward the entryway, where everyone begins to gather their coats, boots, and gloves. You turn to Peggy. "Do you have anything extra I can borrow?"

"Of course," she responds, leading you to the coat rack, where she hands you a warm jacket, scarf, and gloves.

Bucky, looking over at Steve’s collection of winter gear, borrows some too. 

Soon, everyone is bundled up, and with a cheer of excitement, you step outside, the fresh snow crunching beneath your boots. The cold air is sharp, but the sight of the snow-covered backyard makes everything feel magical. Elizabeth immediately runs into the yard, throwing her arms out as she twirls, her laughter bright and carefree.

Bucky follows her, offering to help her build a snowman. Together, you all work to shape the snow into the body, laughing at how much bigger the snowballs get as everyone joins in. The snowman’s arms are made of twigs, and soon a carrot is placed as his nose, with mismatched rocks for eyes.

Elizabeth then scoops up a handful of snow, and with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she tosses it toward Bucky. The snowball hit him in the chest, and Bucky grins, picking up a handful of snow in retaliation.

The snowball fight begins—lighthearted and full of laughter. Elizabeth ducks behind the snowman as Bucky tosses snowballs, narrowly missing her. Steve and Peggy, having finished making the snowman, exchange amused glances and head back inside to prepare hot chocolate for everyone.

Bucky turns to you, his face flushes from the cold, but his eyes soft and warm. He catches your gaze, his expression changing, something a little more tender in his smile.

For a moment, it feels as though everything is quiet again, just the two of you standing together in the middle of the snow, the world outside fading into the distance. Bucky takes a step closer, and your heart races a little, caught in the moment, leaning toward him just as he leans in—

But before your lips meet, a snowball hits Bucky square in the back.

Elizabeth laughs, gleefully sprinting across the yard. “Gotcha!”

Bucky grins and, without a second thought, scoops Elizabeth up, tossing her over his shoulder with ease. “Oh, you’re in for it now, bee,” he says, his voice playful.

Elizabeth squeals in delight, her arms flailing as she is carried through the snow.

You can’t help but laugh, the sound escaping before you can stifle it. There’s something about watching them—so carefree, so lighthearted—that makes your chest tighten with affection. You follow them back inside, where the warmth of the house greets you like a hug.

Steve and Peggy have set up in the living room, the fireplace crackling softly in the background, the scent of cocoa mingling with the cozy atmosphere. They look up when you walk in, Steve’s smile warm and welcoming, Peggy’s eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Hot chocolate’s ready,” Steve says, handing you a mug. “Come warm up.” Everyone takes off their winter gear. 

Elizabeth takes a mug from her mom, her face pink from the cold, her grin wide and satisfied and immediately curls up next to the fireplace, wrapping herself in a blanket. You sit beside her, the warmth from the fire seeping into your skin as you sip your drink, the quiet of the evening settling in around you.

As a movie drifts on the tv, the playful energy of the snowball fight still lingering in the room, you realize how different today has felt. It’s as if the snow fall outside has swept away the weight of yesterday, leaving everything cleaner, fresher. The air feels lighter.

It’s as though, for a brief moment, everything’s exactly as it should be.

After a while, as the evening stretches into night, you hear Bucky’s voice, quieter now, as he thanks Steve and Peggy for letting you stay. "I really appreciate it," he says, his tone sincere, and you echo his gratitude.

“Yes, thank you both for everything. I can’t thank you enough for welcoming me in like you have.”

Steve stands up, pulling you into a tight hug, and Peggy follows, wrapping her arms around you as well. “Anytime,” Steve says, pulling back to give you a knowing look. “If anything ever happens like that again, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Same goes for me,” Peggy adds, her voice warm and reassuring. “Take care of yourself.”

The hug from both of them feels like a shield—comforting. You pull away slowly, smiling up at them, but it’s Elizabeth who steals the moment next.

You crouch down in front of her, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ll see you on Monday,” you say softly.

Elizabeth’s small arms wrap around your neck, pulling you into an unexpected hug. “I love you, Miss Y/L/N,” she says, her voice filled with such sincerity that it catches you off guard. “Thanks for saving me.”

You freeze, the words a punch to the chest. You’ve had kids tell you they love you before, but this feels different—more genuine, more heartfelt. You hold her close, letting the emotion surge through you, grateful for her innocence.

“I love you too, Elizabeth,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. “I’m happy to be here for you. Always.”

Elizabeth’s eyes shine brightly as she tightens her arms around you one more time. Her simple, unguarded affection warms you in a way you hadn’t expected. She’s been a light in your life without even knowing it.

As you stand up, Bucky catches your eyes. His expression is softer than usual, something in his gaze that says more than words could. He gives you a small nod, a silent acknowledgment. Bucky says his goodbye to Elizabeth, her hug even tighter around him. 

"Ready to head out?" Bucky asks, stepping toward you.

You nod, your heart full, taking one last look around the room before following him to the door. The warmth from the house still lingers as you walk out into the night, but with Bucky by your side.

Once you’re in the car, Bucky turns to you. “Ready to get some rest?” His voice is low, like he’s making sure you’re okay, like he’s already looking out for you.

"I can’t go back there, Bucky," you say quietly, the words coming out before you can stop them.

He glances at you, his face softening. "I know. You’re coming home with me. You’re not going back until we can get that window fixed and me and Sam find out more about the intruder." His voice is firm, but with a gentleness to his words.

You don’t protest. You trust Bucky more than anyone. Without another word, you let the quiet of the drive settle over you as the snow continues to build outside.

As you arrive at Bucky’s apartment, he’s quick to grab your bags from the backseat. You realize this is the first time you’ve been here, and a sense of quiet anticipation lingers in the air. Bucky holds your bags in one hand and, with his other hand, gently takes yours as he leads you up a couple of flights of stairs. He unlocks the front door and holds it open, allowing you to step inside first.

The apartment is calm and cozy, the kind of place you’d expect to feel at home in. It’s smaller than you imagined, but there’s a warmth to it—soft, dim lights and the gentle hum of a heater make it feel inviting, a stark contrast to the cold outside.

“I know it’s not much,” Bucky says, closing the door behind him and locking it.

You look around and smile. “It’s nice, comfortable, and honestly, it feels very much like you.” You let out a small laugh as you notice a pile of blankets and pillows scattered on the floor near the couch.

Bucky follows your gaze and chuckles. “Uh, I crash there sometimes. The bed can feel too soft at times.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” you reply, understanding more than he knows. “I get it.”

He nods, a slight smile tugging at his lips before heading toward the kitchen. “I’ll make us some tea,” he calls over his shoulder, the sound of running water and cabinet doors closing filling the air.

You take a seat on his small couch, glancing around, your eyes catching a litter box and a few scattered cat toys in the corner. “Do you have a cat?” you ask, curious as Bucky returns, handing you a steaming mug.

“Yeah, Alpine. She’s at Sam’s place right now. Keeps her whenever I’m away.” Bucky’s voice softens as he talks about her, his fondness clear.

“I love cats. I’ve always wanted one but never got around to it.” You smile at the thought.

“I found her in an alley when I first moved here. She keeps me grounded.”

The conversation quiets as you both sit in the comfort of his apartment, sipping tea. Your thoughts drift back to earlier that day, to the warmth of family and the joy you hadn’t realized you missed until you saw it again. A lump forms in your throat, and your heart aches, the tenderness of the moment catching you off guard.

Bucky watches you closely, sensing the shift in your mood. “Hey, you okay?” He sets his mug down, turning to face you fully, his hands gently cradling your face. The care in his touch is unmistakable, and it sends a quiet comfort through you.

You hesitate for a moment. You’ve been holding this back for so long, the weight of it all pressing down on you. “I don’t know,” you whisper, voice shaking. “I’ve been running from it for so long.”

Bucky doesn’t rush you, only nods, waiting patiently for you to speak when you’re ready.

Taking a steadying breath, you grab your bag from beside the couch, pulling out your wallet and carefully removing a folded picture. For a moment, you hold it, your gaze lingering on the photo, the memories flooding back. Then, you hand it to Bucky, your fingers trembling slightly.

The photo is a few years old now, but it feels as fresh as yesterday. It shows you with your sister and your two young nephews, standing in front of your childhood home. Your sister smiles, with her arms around the boys, their laughter frozen in time. You can almost hear the sound of their joy in the background, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed.

"I—" You swallow, the words thick in your throat. "A few years ago, we were driving to my dad’s on a snow day from school. We were going to have an early dinner. Nothing big, just a little family gathering." You pause, your chest tightens. "Another car lost control on the opposite side of the road. We didn’t see it coming. The other car slid into us. My sister, she—she died on impact."

Tears begin to slip down your cheeks, your voice barely above a whisper as the pain resurfaces, raw and unbearable. "My nephews, they were only five and seven. They were taken to the hospital, but they didn’t survive. They died hours later."

You grip the photo tightly, the edges worn from years of handling it, your heart breaking once more.

"And me…" You continue, your voice cracking. "I was the only one who made it. I had to have several surgeries, months of recovery. I healed physically, but mentally… that’s still a work in progress. I miss them every day. They were my family, and I—I don’t know how to keep going without them. It’s changed everything, Bucky. It’s changed me."

Bucky’s hand, which had been resting on the couch, moves to gently hold yours. His grip is steady, reassuring, and there’s an understanding in his eyes—an unspoken recognition of the pain you’re carrying. His voice is low, filled with empathy.

“You’re not alone,” he says softly. “I get it. I know what it’s like to lose pieces of yourself in ways you never think you’ll recover from. But you keep going, even when you don’t think you can. You just… keep going.”

His words strike a chord deep within you, his vulnerability a mirror to your own. It’s not just the soldier in him talking—it's the man who has seen the depths of loss, who has lived through it and come out the other side.

You blink back more tears, nodding, the weight in your chest feeling a little lighter just by having him there.

Bucky’s hand tightens around yours, offering a comfort that needs no explanation. He leans back against the couch, his gaze turning inward for a moment, before he looks at you again, his expression softer now.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice small.

Bucky shakes his head, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Don’t apologize. You’ve been through hell, and it’s not easy. It’s not supposed to be.”

The two of you sit in silence for a while, neither of you rushing through the pain or pretending to have all the answers. There’s a sense of peace, of understanding, and it’s enough. For now, it’s more than enough.

Finally, Bucky shifts slightly, offering a small, almost awkward smile. “Do you want to take a shower? The first door on the right,” he adds quickly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You raise an eyebrow, teasing him. “I mean—uh, not with me, but if you want to take a shower, feel free to.” He’s clearly embarrassed, but the warmth in his voice is endearing.

You giggle at his awkwardness. “Thanks, I can definitely use one.” You lean in and kiss his cheek, the gesture soft and comforting. “You can join me if you want,” you tease with a smirk as you stand and grab your bag, heading toward the short hallway.

Bucky’s face flushes, but his eyes sparkle with a quiet amusement. “I’ll… think about it.”

Bucky sits still for a moment after your teasing remark, his gaze watches you walk into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar. He runs a hand through his hair, taking a slow breath as he seems to gather his thoughts. 

“Fuck it,” He mutters to himself, pushing through his insecurities, gaining courage with each determined step he takes. 

He pushes the door open softly, the sound of water filling the air as steam starts to roll out. His eyes glue to you through the textured glass door. His fist clenches in need, seeing you so vulnerable and you allowing him to see you this way, works him up more than he thought it would. 

He strips off his clothes, glancing down mentally praying for his dick to not intrude this vulnerable moment but one look at you as he opens the glass door, he knows he’s done for. 

Your eyes meet his, as your chest rises and falls faster as he steps in and closes in on you. Your eyes filter over his toned chest, watching the water glides down and glistens against his metal arm. Your breath catches in your throat as you peak down quickly before looking back to his eyes, the apparent smirk resting on his face. 

"I can... I can wash your hair if you want," His voice is calm, but you can hear the trace of nervousness underneath.

You nod, words lost in your throat as you turn around to face the water. Bucky’s hands are careful, gentle as he pours a bit of shampoo into his palm, his fingers working it through your hair with slow, steady movements. The touch is so tender, you almost forget everything else, letting yourself relax into the sensation of his hands massaging your scalp before the hot water cascades down your back, washing away the remnants of the day.

When it’s his turn, you return the favor, taking a bottle of body wash and working it into a washcloth, reaching out to his chest first. His skin is so warm under your touch, and as you slowly move to wash his shoulders and back, you notice how he lets out a soft exhale, as though the act of being cared for, of sharing this moment, is something he didn’t realize he needed.

You both take your time, no rush, no pressure. Just the quiet intimacy of helping each other unwind, of being present in the moment together, with no expectations. His fingers brush against your arm when you rinse his body, and the gesture feels like a silent acknowledgment of how much trust you’re giving each other in this small space, how much it matters.

When you’re both clean and standing close under the cascading water, Bucky turns to face you again, his eyes searching yours for a moment. There’s a vulnerability there, but also something deeper, something more familiar now, as though the weight between you both is no longer as heavy.

You smile softly, your fingers gently tracing the edge of his jaw, and then, before either of you can second guess it, you close the distance, pressing your lips to his. It’s a soft, unhurried kiss, the water flowing over you both, warm and comforting. The kiss is more of an unspoken promise, a way to share everything that words can’t quite express.

When you pull away, you both stand there for a moment, close enough to feel each other’s breath. 

Bucky finally breaks the silence with a small chuckle. “Well, that wasn’t so bad, huh?”

You laugh softly, nodding. “Not bad at all.”

He helps you rinse off the last of the soap, then reaches to turn off the water. You step out first, wrapping yourself in a towel, your hair damp and hanging loosely. Bucky follows, grabbing his own towel, and you both move toward the small bedroom, your hearts a little lighter than before.

The room is cozy and intimate, lit only by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. As you change into your pajamas, Bucky does the same, his movements quiet but sure. When you're both ready, you climb into the bed, the sheets warm against your skin. He slides in beside you, and for a long moment, neither of you speaks.

It’s not a grand gesture or a declaration of anything, just the simple act of being together. His arm drapes over your waist, pulling you close, and you rest your head on his chest. There’s no rush, no expectation.

“Goodnight doll,” he whispers into the quiet, his voice steady and calm.

“Goodnight Buck,” you reply, feeling the weight of the day finally fall away, the quiet peace of being in his presence wrapping around you like a blanket.

And for the first time in a long while, you fall asleep, knowing that tomorrow can wait, and for tonight, you’re exactly where you need to be.

Thanks for reading! Please reblog & comment <3 would love to hear how you enjoy it and feel free to send in requests!

[ipilokko]

Hello! This is me attempting to write after a looong time. I was not home today so i wanted to try again. I don't think I'm the best at it and i probably made a LOT of grammar mistakes since English is not my first language. So i might get embarrassed and delete this later 💀

The thing is under the cut...

From the warmth of their home, Mollie stood in front of the window, she could hardly make out her immense husband between the layering raindrops. It was getting colder and colder each day as the weather pulled away from autumn and was being dragged more into winter.

His back facing her, he was wearing a dark brown coat with his umbrella on his hand, creating a spotlight on him free from the raindrops. She gripped the ladder, slowly climbing down to reach the ground. She put on her jacket, her hat, took her own umbrella, her gloves and went outside from the human door.

The oversized raindrops were a bit sticky as the surface tension was, for sure, directly proportional to the scale. She slowly made her way through him, whose gaze was lost in the foreverness of the ocean. She watched as he stretched farther over her horizon line, much farther over her head and then finally, as he completely took over her vision as she got closer.

The raindrops stopped falling on her when she passed the lineage of the circular waterproof fabric hundreds of feet above. He wasn't acting like it but she was sure he had noticed her coming, he always did.

"Always by the sea... Why do you hate me so much?"

Mollie teased before letting out a short-lasting laugh, cranning her neck to be able to see his face... Well, more like underside of his jaw. He looked down and his eyes landed on her. She was not even sure if he could see her eyes, yet it WAS an eye contact. Roy smiled kindly and looked back up to his own vanishing point. He moved his umbrella to her direction and centered it on top of her, even though he knew it was already covering her before. The sound of huge raindrops falling just a few feet away from her tickled her ears.

"What so nice here anyway?"

She walked closer to his feet. She could smell the fresh polish he applied on his shoes just a day ago.

"Stay here with me for a little longer and you will find out" He replied softly without breaking his eye contact with waves for a moment, then glancing at her.

She shifted her attention back to the ocean and glanced around between the waves. "I guess I'll be here for a while, then"

"I would love that" he once again, smiled calmly.

She was a bit cold, but it was no excuse to get back into the house. Yes, maybe she didn't understand what he liked so much about the sea but just staying with him made her happy. And her staying with him made him happy. Despite her being really talkative, it was actually the speechless moments of pure togetherness she adored the most.

His long legs shifted behind her, transferring his weight onto them with a soft tremour, shielding her from the cold breeze. His movements calm and bare of rush, as they always were. After a short amount of time, she felt a movement behind her and noticed he was lowering himself on the ground, his stature folding in half and getting more than twice as big with the affect of perspective. He smootly reached for her and slightly spread out his fingers to reveal his palm, inviting her to join him up in the sky. She glanced at his ring, which was a symbol of their marriage. it warmed her heart seeing how well he took care of it, not a single piece of dust between the elegant engravings.

With her barely perceivable touch, she put one of her hands on the inner side of his forefinger and the other one on his thumb. She supported herself and climbed on it, her small weight barely forming a dent on the soft flesh. She felt the welcomed thrill of weightlessness as he began to rise her up in the air, making her previous ground shrink and shrink more until it stopped.

"Shoulder, please" she requested. He obeyed after he deeply studying her with his soft gaze. She took a step that led her on his shoulder after his hand was aligned with the level of it. She carefully passed the collar of his coat and made herself comfortable near his neck with the warmth of his life blood leaking on her. His presence was dominating yet somehow, so recessive that she felt like she was taking advantage of him. She was always grateful that the gentle giant was always so patient, so respectful and considerate of her needs. He was a gentleman from every angle and his manner and accent only made her opinion stronger.

She once again paid attention to the sound of rain, a wee bit muffled now as she was further away from the origin.

"Shall we go in?" His voice rumbled through her from where she was leaning her head on. Weird enough, even though she was this close to his voicebox, his voice always touched her so gently.

[violetwanderer]

Red Lips

Peter Parker x Female Reader

Summary: Reader shows off some items she bought on a shopping spree to her boyfriend, Peter, including a red lipstick that he really enjoys.

Warnings: Kissing

Word Count: 617 Words

Author's Note: This was meant to be a short fic but ended up looking better as headcanons

Masterlist

Do not copy or translate my works

After a long day of shopping, you come home to your shared apartment with Peter, unlocking the door and carrying your bags to the bedroom, walking past your boyfriend in the kitchen as you do.

“Hi, baby,” you call to him, hurrying to put down all your bags. You throw them down on the bed when you get to it.

Peter enters the room with a smile on his face, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey, babe,” he greets you softly. “How was shopping?”

“Really fun! I got some new clothes and makeup. Want to see some of the stuff?”

“Sure, baby,” Peter smiles wider, pushing off the doorframe and sitting on the bed beside the bags.

You start pulling out items of clothing and holding them up to your body, showing off how they would look on you.

He genuinely seems interested each time, and compliments every item of clothing, telling you how cute and pretty they would look on you.

Once you're done showing off the clothes, you move on to the bags that hold the makeup you bought.

You know you don't have time to try all of it on, so you just quickly flash some eye shadow palettes and blushes.

What catches your eye the most, however, is a bright red lipstick you purchased. You picked it up because you wanted to treat yourself, and because the colour reminded you of Peter's suit, though it isn't the exact same shade.

You have a strong feeling that Peter will like it, so you decide that you want to model it for him.

“I'll be back in a second!” You tell your boyfriend as you run into the bathroom quickly to put on the lipstick, checking your appearance in the mirror to make sure it looks perfect.

You go back into the bedroom and smirk coyly as Peter looks at you in awe.

“Do you like it?” You ask him, and he nods, but his expression doesn't change.

You straddle his lap and kiss his cheek, and when you pull away you notice that your lipstick has left its mark on his skin, causing you to giggle.

“What?” Peter asks with a sweet smile, and so you pull his hand up to your lips to show him what you're laughing at.

He examines the mark and his cheeks grow red at the sight, but his smile grows bigger.

“I like this lipstick,” Peter chuckles, still blushing.

You kiss all over his face then, leaving pretty red marks on his soft skin. His lips soon grow to match the colour of yours.

“Baby, I've gotta go,” Peter tells you between kisses, though he seems reluctant. “I've gotta go out on patrol, and I'll have to wash all this off first.”

“No you don't. Your mask will cover it all,” you point out, pulling away and laughing at the sight of his face. He's covered in lipstick marks shaped like kisses.

“You're right!” He grins. You pull away to let him get up and change into his suit.

Once he has changed, he slips his mask on, and there's no longer any evidence that you've covered him in your lipstick.

That is until you get the devilish idea to kiss his mask as well, pressing your lips against his through the fabric, leaving behind one last lipstick mark.

“That's just for luck,” you tell him with a wink.

“You can't see it on the mask though, right?” He asks you.

“Not at all,” you lie with an innocent smile.

As he climbs out the window, you can't help but giggle at the fact that anyone who gets up close to him tonight will see the lipstick on him.

[vodika-vibes]

can you do kix x reader where kix sees reader talking with keeli and gets jealous but reader is actually asking keeli about his twin kix?

Jaloux

Summary: Jealousy is not the best look for a man of his temperament, but when he catches the woman he’s been crushing on for months flirting with Keeli, there’s no stopping the burn of jealousy.

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x F!Reader

Word Count: 1352

Warnings: Reader is described as having long hair, reader is described as getting a perm

A/N: This was fun to write! My sun lamp is working and I can focus a little better.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

“I’m so glad to be back on Coruscant!” 

Kix tosses a grin towards the woman lounged, dramatically, on one of the beds in his medbay, “What’s wrong? You didn’t enjoy the swamp?”

She sits up and points at him, “I am far too young to enter my swamp witch phase.” She drops her hand, and pulls her hair out of the strict knot she normally keeps it in while she’s working, “Besides, that place was awful. I’ve never seen so many men get so sick from pollen before. I thought you all were immune to allergies.”

“So did I,” Kix replies with a laugh, “Guess the long necks didn’t cover everything.”

“Guess not.” She combs her fingers through her hair, and Kix can’t help but watch the way her hair tumbles around her shoulders. She might be the most stunning woman he’s ever met.

She should wear her hair down more often…but also, he’s glad she doesn’t. He’d never accomplish anything if she did.

“Anyway,” Kix shakes himself from his daydream (which involves her in his bunk, her hair spread like a halo around her head-) “What are your plans back on Coruscant? Bar hopping? Clubbing?”

She laughs, and Kix falls a little harder for her, “Do you really take me for the bar hopping type?”

He laughs softly, “No, not really. Especially since you shy away from Hardcases’...uh…chemical genius.”

“I’m fairly sure that what he brewed should be classified as a chemical weapon, rather than a drink. I can’t believe you drank it.” She folds her arms, “You deserved that hangover.”

“Yeah, but you’re a paragon of kindness and mercy and nursed us all back to health.” 

“You’re lucky that Rex begged me to help.”

“Rex was just as hungover as we were.” Kix points out.

“Ugh. I work with a bunch of children.”

Kix laughs again, “We’re not so bad.”

The look she shoots him is slightly exasperated, though it quickly morphs to a grin, “I suppose you could be worse.” She finally hops off the bed, and stretches her arms in front of her, “Are you all packed?”

“Are you? I keep most of my stuff here.”

She makes a face, “Oh yeah.” She pauses, “But I do have everything packed.” 

The familiar feeling of the Resolute settling in drydock rattles across the ship, and Kix smothers a quiet sigh. He’s going to miss seeing her everyday. Sure, he’ll still see her at the base, but it’s not the same. 

He likes eating breakfast with her. She isn’t able to function without a cup of caf, it’s hilarious. He also likes needling her about her breakfast habits.

As the ship comes to a stop, and the announcement comes over the intercom announcing that all of the civilian employees can disembark, she grins at him and grabs her bag from the floor, “I’ll see you in a few days?”

“Yeah, of course.” Kix wants to say more to her. He wants to confess, or to ask her out on a date, but the words seem to stick in his throat. So, instead, he offers her a small smile and an absent wave, as she leaves the medbay.

It’s only a few days. 

Maybe he’ll work up the nerve to ask her out the next time he sees her.

The next time Kix sees her, it’s a whole week later. 

He almost doesn’t recognize her when he sees her across the massive room. Her long hair has been cropped to her shoulders, and dyed a deep blue that is the same shade as the blue on his armor. And, as he moves closer, he sees that she has a new tattoo on her left shoulder. 

It looks like an array of flowers wrapped around the medic symbol.

It suits her.

He weaves through the throng of his brothers, there are several battalions here, so he’s able to get to her, though he slows when he sees her talking to Keeli.

He slows his walk and he just watches them interact.

She looks…delighted. Laughter written clearly on her face, leaning in so she’s able to hear him better, reaching out to lightly touch his forearm when he says something.

And Kix burns.

He’s never been the jealous type, at least he never has been in the past.

But watching this, Kix realizes that maybe he just never had reason to be properly jealous before.

He takes a deep breath and swallows his jealousy, before he continues walking over to the pair. 

“There you are,” Keeli folds his arms, “You’re late, vod’ika.”

“Come off it, we were decanted at the same time.” Kix counters, “And I wasn’t late, anyway. I was just on the other side of the room.”

“Hey Kix!” She grins at him, “Did you really dare one of your batchmates to jump into the ocean when you were a cadet?”

Kix blinks at her, and then turns an accusing glare on his twin, “Really?”

“Really.” Keeli agrees with a grin, “Anyway, my General is calling. See you later vod, Doc.”

Keeli saunters off, with Kix glaring at his back, and then he turns to look at her, “You shouldn’t believe anything he said about me as a cadet, he’s a horrible liar.”

She laughs, “I’d believe that if you weren’t blushing, Kix.” She brushes a blue curl off her cheek, and favors him with a grin, “It’s alright, everyone does dumb things as kids. It’s a side effect of being a kid, you know?”

Kix flashes a tiny smile, “Yeah? What did you do?”

She shrugs, “I tried to sell my brother for a handful of credits. And then mom found out and I was grounded for three years.”

That makes him laugh, “Well, I suppose I’m less embarrassed now.” He reaches out and tugs on one of her curls, “This is new.”

“Yeah, I wanted something new, so I got a perm and a dye.”

“And a new tattoo.”

“Yeah,” she pauses, “What do you think?” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that she sounded a little self-conscious.

“Well, you look like you belong with the 501st now,” He teases, though then his smile softens, “I think you look great. But I always think you look great.” A blush rises on her cheeks, so Kix continues, “You make the rest of us look bad.”

“You’re exaggerating. You and your brothers are very handsome,”

It’s the first time Kix has ever heard her make a comment about his appearance, she normally sidesteps the question when someone asks, so he inches a little closer, “You think I’m handsome?” He asks with a grin.

“Are you going to make this a thing?”

“Am I more handsome than Keeli?”

She stares at him and then she sighs, “I know you better than I know Keeli, so yeah. Stop being jealous, it’s silly.”

“...I’m not jealous.”

“You are. It’s kind of cute, and totally ridiculous.” She stretches her arms over her head, and then, without looking at him, continues, “After all, everyone knows you’re my favorite.”

Unlike the way that he burned earlier, at the thought of Keeli flirting with her, now he just feels pleasantly warm. “That right?”

“Yeah, it is.”

He hesitates for a moment, and then bumps her gently, “You know, there’s a botanical garden not far from here, it’s home to the most poisonous flowers in the galaxy. You wanna go?”

“Kix, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah, I am. If you want.”

A bright grin crosses her face, “It’s about time,” She finally turns to look at him, “Yes, please. I’d like to go on a date with you.”

The pair fall into a comfortable silence for a moment, and then Kix glances at her, “You know, you could have asked me on a date.”

“Jesse said that you would prefer a more…traditional relationship.” She shrugs, “I just trusted his word.”

“I’m going to kill him.” Kix grumbles and then her words fully register, “Wait, relationship?”

“Yeah, Kix. Relationship.”

“Huh.” He stares at the side of her head, “I can work with that.”

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@mira-loves-star-wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@sweater-sloot

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

@silly-starfish

@lonewolflupe

@maniacalbooper

@rebell-ious

[arget-star]

For Thy Sweet Love

Umemiya Hajime x F!Reader

tags: fluff, reader and ume are married with two kids, not beta read. if you see any spelling mistakes, no you don't

wc: 2k

about: There's someone new at the park today. Umemiya, happily married with two kids, isn't a fan of how this man gravitates towards you

“My nephew loves this park,” says a voice to your right. You glance over, unsure if the young man is talking to you or into a phone you can’t see. He catches your eye and grins—no phone, then. “Last week, he said the swings were his favorite, and now he claims the slides are the most fun he’s ever had.”

He sticks out a hand in greeting. “Nishida Hideo. A pleasure to meet you.”

There’s no harm in making a new acquaintance at the park. It’s nice, knowing the other frequent visitors, making your trips here less lonely on the days Hajime’s stuck at work. Puts you at ease, surrounded by people you can chat with. You accept his handshake, offering your name in return, silently appreciative his touch doesn’t linger once you gently pull your hand away. “How old is your nephew?”

“Six. He’s the little terror currently reigning as king atop the slides,” Hideo replies, tilting his head in the direction of said slides. You follow the gesture, eyes landing on a little boy whose black hair has the same cowlick as his uncle’s. His tiny fists are planted atop his hips, mouth moving as he explains the rules of whatever game he and your son—also six—have created. At least, you hope it’s just silly rules, instead of something rude or the age old you can’t play with me.

You squint a little, right hand raising to shield your face, and see the smile on your Yuzuru’s face. That same wide, open grin he inherited from his dad. Your lips quirk up as you turn back to Nishida. “He seems to rule his subjects well.”

“Is that your son up there?”

“Mhm. Also six. He loves making new friends.” Yet another thing he inherited from Hajime. Nishida’s nephew shouts something, raising his tiny arms up and stepping aside. Yuzuru, with a loud laugh also courtesy of his father—honestly, you’d hardly know Yuzuru was also yours if he hadn’t inherited your hair color—positions himself belly-down on the slide. Pushing himself with his arms, he goes flying, landing in the woodchips covering the park ground, giggling like a maniac all the while. You sigh fondly; you’ll be cleaning woodchips off him until bath time tonight.

Nishida’s nephew follows suit as soon as Yuzuru stands up. They brush themselves off, then climb back up the staircase next to the slides, presumably to do it all over again. A handful of woodchips cling to the back of your boy’s shirt, and his fellow conspirator has one stuck to his cheek.

“To be a child again,” Nishida says wistfully. “They make me tired just watchin’ them.”

A small snort escapes you. “Try parenting. It’s just as exhausting as you think it is, and yet, there’s nothing in the world I love more. Do you watch your nephew often?”

Nishida gives you a sidelong glance, like he doesn’t quite believe how people could willingly love something so tiresome. “Every couple weeks or so. My sister and her husband own a shop on market street. I try to help out by takin’ him off their hands.”

Yuzuru flies down the slides again. This time, when he pops back up, he gives you a wave. You eagerly wave back; some days, you can hardly believe the tiny baby you once cradled in your arms every night has grown into such a big kid.

“That’s kind of you. Which shop—” You begin to ask, cutting off as movement catches in the corner of your eye. A newcomer has arrived at the playground in the form of your three and a half year old daughter. Shiori’s tiny pigtails bounce as she toddles along, calling for her big brother. You smile again—she’s fearless, so long as Yuzuru’s around. The boy in question momentarily abandons his game, turning towards his sister. You tilt your head, looking for Hajime. He shouldn’t be too far behind your runaway girl.

Nishida, now busy shouting a hello to his nephew, misses the commotion. Just as well; despite the sunny day, a shiver unexpectedly runs down your spine as you finally spot your husband’s approaching figure.

Umemiya Hajime is not a jealous man.

Protective, certainly, and fiercely loyal to those he loves. Never once in all the years you’ve been together has he acted out of jealousy.

Yet now, you feel the same aura that so frightened any and all who opposed Bofurin and commanded the utmost respect from his fellow members. You think Nishida asks you something, but all your focus rests on Hajime, wondering what, exactly, has ruffled his feathers.

He grows closer, features becoming distinct, and it’s then you notice the edge to his smile, the hard glint in his eyes. The tails of his coat snap behind him, in time with his purposeful strides. He doesn’t look like a father who just spent the last twenty minutes calming down his tearful little girl from a scraped knee.

Umemiya Hajime looks every inch the former leader of Bofurin.

An arm wraps around your waist before you can think of anything to say. His right arm, you note, which he uses to tug you closer. You spare a glance first for your children—slides abandoned, they happily chase each other up and down the jungle gym steps—then to Nishida, whose face has gone carefully blank.

“Haji—” You begin, then stop. You don’t know what to say.

A rogue piece of hair has come loose from its usual slicked back style. Normally, you’d brush it aside, laughing as he uses your proximity as an excuse to kiss you senseless. He’s not feeling play now.

In mirror to your own greeting earlier, Hajime sticks out his left hand to Nishida. Sunlight glints off the golden wedding band adorning your husband’s ring finger, and you know he was planning this the moment he began stalking over here.

“Great day to be at the park, isn’t it? Umemiya Hajime. My wife’s such a great conversation partner, isn’t she?”

Nishida stares at Hajime for a heartbeat, then slowly accepts the offered hand. From your place tucked against his side, you can feel the tense line of his muscles, a snake coiled to strike if provoked. You don’t have anything against Nishida, and his nephew plays quite nicely with both Yuzuru and Shiori. You want to be annoyed, even a little angry, but you know Hajime. He wouldn’t act like this unless he had good reason.

“Y-yeah, she is,” Nishida replies, quickly retracting his hand. Nervousness has replaced his earlier ease, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart over to the children, who have commandeered the swing sets. Yuzuru must have helped Shiori onto one; now he’s twisting her round and round while she kicks her legs in delight. One of her pigtails has started to come loose. Nishida’s nephew propels himself on the other swing.

A throat clears. Nishida’s, you realize, as he casually slips his phone out of his pocket. “I should be getting back. Thanks for chatting with me,” he says to you, phone still in hand. Another look at Hajime. “…I’ll see you around.”

“Have a great day!” Hajime calls as Nishida scurries away. His nephew pouts. Your children halt their own game, offering loud farewells of their own. There’s a moment where you think someone will start throwing a tantrum—Nishida’s nephew, mainly—but the man quickly scoops his young charge into his arms and carries him off.

Hajime releases you with a sigh once Nishida’s retreating figure disappears, all that coiled tension dissipating in a puff of air. He smiles at you like nothing happened. “What were you thinking about for lunch?”

You stare at him in disbelief. Is he not going to say anything? It takes a moment for your tongue to unstick from the roof of your mouth, and when it does, you can’t stop the hiss that escapes. “Hajime, you didn’t have to scare him off like that!”

He tilts his head, gesture almost boyish. You know better. “He said he had to leave.”

“Because of you!”

“Baby—”

“Mama! Mama! Pus’ me, p’ease?” Shiori shouts. You sigh, glaring at Hajime to let him know this conversation isn’t over. Plastering a smile on your face, you happily trot over to the swing sets. Yuzuru has claimed the one left empty by Nishida’s nephew, leaving his baby sister to wiggle pitifully in her seat. A bright, floral patterned bandage sticks to her right knee.

“How’s my brave little girl?” You coo, planting a kiss atop her head. She giggles, sticking her leg up while you set about fixing her loose pigtail.

“Dada fixeded me!”

“He’s quite talented at patching up owies, isn’t he?” Against your better judgement, your hands still, chin tilting up to find Hajime standing alone where you left him, hands tucked casually into his pockets. He’s watching you and the kids with undiluted joy.

You’re still upset with him, but the look on his face tempers some of your annoyance.

“Mhm!”

“I’m glad, my love.” Pigtail fixed, you gently take her tiny hands in yours, placing them around the metal chains holding up the swing. “Ready? One, two, three!” On three, you give her a light push, sending her soaring into the air.

Twenty minutes later, everyone’s safely buckled in their car seats, hands thoroughly cleaned courtesy of your stash of baby wipes in the glove box. Hajime passes around a water bottle from the driver’s seat, while you stand at the back passenger door, shaking woodchips out of Shiroi’s shoes.

“Mama, can we listen to Bluey?” Yuzuru asks, idly running a toy motorcycle up and down the car window.

“In a minute, baby,” you reply. Shoes free of debris, you shimmy them back onto Shiori’s little feet. She’s clutching the metal water bottle in both her hands.

“T’anks, mama.”

“You’re welcome,” and it’s accompanied with a loud smooch to her forehead. You take the water from her, stealing a quick sip. She giggles, waving as you close the passenger door. You clamber into your own seat with a relieved sigh. Park days are fun yet exhausting.

Yuzuru, never one to forget anything, pouts. “Mama, can we listen to Bluey now?”

The car engine roars to life. You fiddle with your phone, queuing up the latest Bluey album while telling Shiori yes, you did see how fast she went down the slide, and you know she’s hungry, reassuring her that lunch will be made as soon as you get through the door at home. She kicks her legs out again, pretending she’s still on the swings. Your hand snakes between the car door and the seat, questing fingers latching playfully around one small ankle. “Got you!”

She squeals, delighted, kicking harder now. “Shake her off,” Yuzuru encourages, and now you laugh, releasing your hold.

“You’re too strong for me, my love,” you say, shaking out your hand.

“’Cause I eats my gebtables,” she replies seriously.

Haji laughs, grinning at you as he backs the van out of the parking spot. It soothes the remainder of your irritation—that smile of his always makes you melt. “That’s right, baby,” he agrees.

Shiori asks for more water. You oblige, passing the bottle back. Yuzuru starts humming along to Bluey. Hajime rolls slowly to a stop at the intersection. It’s all so normal, so perfect. Almost enough for you to forget about Haji’s odd behavior.

Yuzuru may have inherited most of his father’s looks, but he got his knack for persistency from you. Gently, you prod Hajime’s arm. “What was all of that about, earlier?”

He sighs. Flicks his eyes up to the rearview mirror, looking at your children in the reflection. They aren’t visibly paying attention, although your son listens to far more than he lets on. Scary, how often he asks about things you were positive he wasn’t within hearing distance for.

Hajime’s hand flexes around the steering wheel, like he’s fighting off the urge to rub the back of his neck. You squeeze his shoulder this time. He’s the most responsible driver you know—and it makes your heart ache whenever you think of why.

“I was a little jealous,” he admits, softly.

“A little?”

“…a lot,” he concedes, flicking on the turn signal. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you. Something about his manner set me off.”

You frown in thought, playing back your interaction with Nishida in your head. Nothing struck a warning bell inside your own head. Other than the strange look he gave you when you said how much you loved being a parent. Overall, you’d considered Nishida nice enough. Not someone you’d want to become best friends with, but a decent enough park companion.

“I thought he was gentlemanly enough,” you say carefully, trying to see the interaction through your husband’s eyes. Maybe Nishida ended up a bit too far into your personal space, towards the end of your conversation. Half of your attention had been on Yuzuru by that point; the other half was worried about Shiori’s wounded knee.

“It’s how he kept watching you when you weren’t looking. Like he was sizing you up.”

You didn’t feel anything untoward coming from Nishida. Then again, Haji’s always had a gift for reading people and their intentions. You lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m yours, always and forever.”

Those impossibly blue eyes of his land on yours. “I love you.”

Yuzuru, no longer occupied with Bluey or his motorcycle, blows a raspberry. “Gross!”

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 7.1 - You Can’t Go Home

AKIRA

"Fuckin' bullshit ass dreams."

The coffee helps with Akira's tension headache, but not his biggest problem: Why the hell can't Miko be glamoured?

For all the magic that the fae had, glamour was the most powerful. It was the only space where they could lie, crafting a story or circumstance that felt so real a creature could be lost to it.

Miko wasn't fae, which was the only way she'd be able to see through it—though most fae didn't bother to peek beneath the hood of a glamour unless it was a threat. It was considered rude, like walking in on someone undressing.

And yet, if Akira was being honest with himself, when it came to solving the mystery of Miko Ojo he could give a shit. Jacques was right, he was distracted. He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near Vladislaus, and Alice was— 

—in his side yard?

Son of a bitch. 

Akira makes his way outside, hoping to confirm that she is a figment of his imagination and not actually in his garden, leaning over a poisonous plant on the verge of getting herself killed. 

Tossing his coffee cup, he runs towards her, skidding to a halt a few feet away. "Uh, hey," he calls out, keeping his voice deceptively casual and trying desperately not to envision her with the tongue of the plant wrapped around her arm, pumping poison into her system. "You might wanna watch yourself. Those mosquito traps are deadly."

"Yeah," she stands and turns around, a smirk on her face. "To mosquitos."

Gods above. Amusement looks good on her. But he can't encourage this. 

"They are poisonous to you," Akira corrects, hating how suddenly anxious he sounds. He can feign disinterest with the best of the fae, but those skills abandon him now. “Can you please get the fuck away from that thing?” 

"Why?” She laughs like she can't hear his desperation. Or she can hear it, and she's trying to fuckin' torture him.

“I have salt," she holds up a hand, flipping it back and forth so he can see that one side is covered in fine crystals. "But you look pretty salt-free my dude, so maybe you should back up."

“Me back up? I’m like ten feet away! And how do you know about using salt for a mosquito trap?”

"Sixam Mosquito Traps are related to cowplants, and cowplants hate salt," she shrugs, "They talked about it on this podcast I listen to.” Instead of taking a step away from the plant, like she has a care in the world for his godsdamned blood pressure, Alice moves closer. “Anyways, appreciate the concern, but I need this shot for class, and I already waited until the last minute."

Akira bites his tongue, willing himself not to completely lose his shit. Jacques is already aware of his interest and the worst thing you could do was have the Devil know what you wanted.

And yet, he can't seem to back up. Instead he finds himself demanding to know what her plan is while he glares so hard his headache returns.

"Just watch." Alice pulls out her camera and drops into a crouch. Gingerly, she holds out her hand. The tongue of the mosquito trap flicks out, speeding toward her. At the very last minute, she flips her hand over, snapping a picture before the tongue recoils and twists back into the plant. 

It's a masterful move. Akira has aged a thousand years just from watching it.

"Look!" she cries, finally leaving the plant alone so she can hold out her camera and show him the image in the viewfinder. "Got the shot. Tell me that was not completely badass!"

It's a good picture. Begrudgingly, Akira admits it. "What podcast did you hear all these plant tips on?"

"The 7 Wild Dates Recap show. They were in Selvadorada for an elimination challenge. Honestly, I wasn't even sure it would work."

She wasn’t even sure if it would work!?!?!??!?!

He can't do this.

Alice is certifiable.

She's the heroine in a novel who wanders into the dark forest even though everyone said: "don't go in the fucking forest."

If he pursues this, he will end up in a constant state of worry that she'll endure some bodily harm because mortals have laughably brittle bones. Keeping her alive in his world would be a nightmare.

And yet, when he opens his mouth, what comes out is: "Tell me you do not watch that dumbass show."

"I do," she cackles, "And you should too. Stick with me, kid, and you'll be drowning in scripted confessions from the most beautiful, selfish sims on the planet. I'm Alice, by the way."

She is smiling expectantly, but he knows his rules. He has them for a reason.

No real names.

"I'm Akira."

No unnecessary details.

"I'm also into plants. You're kind of standing near my garden."

And for the love of the gods, no fucking promises.

"And if this show is as good as you say, then I'll have to watch it."

PREV | NEXT

(Part 1 of 4)

If you prefer long-form, you can read the full chapter on my WordPress.

[faegoddessog]

Stroke Yourself For Me

A/N: Soooo, I've been dipping my toes into digital art this week... Decided to whip this up today to go along with this little window into the fuckery that is my mind. I'm still learning (though I've done sketch art my whole life) Yes I used (several) reference pictures. I fear some of the values may be off, and of course I see all that is wrong with it... but I'll never tell. lol!

As always, if you'd like me to add you to my tags list, let me know!

Summary: Just a little moment when introvert time becomes exhibitionist time.

Warnings: Mature Material 18+, Masturbation, Mess, lil' bit'o praise, Fingering, PiV

It had begun just cuddling on the couch. Just quiet time. He was reading on his 

kindle, thumbing through the pages. She had sat down a foot from him, her own tablet in hand. She knew he needed introvert time and didn't want to interrupt. She just wanted to be near him.  Without looking up, he opened one arm towards her in the universal invitation for snuggle time. 

She slid under his arm and into his chest. Once settled, she let out a big sigh of contentment, he kissed the top of her head. 

It was like that for a while, until she came to the dirty part of her story. She was so sucked in, that she didn't realize she was muttering little oh’s and mmm’s of appreciation. 

Without letting on, Austin started reading over her shoulder. His fingertips unconsciously caressing her upper arm. His keen fingers that he could hold in just such a way as to look delicate, as though water were dripping off the tips. There were countless photo shoots of him, but none of them showed the reality. Not one gave away  just how strong and persistent those long fingers could be.

It wasn’t until he shifted, adjusting to give his dick just a little more room, that she noticed his e-reader was laying face down on the cushions. 

She turned to look at him. His eyebrow twitched and his jaw tightened, fire kindled in his eyes  She twisted in his lap to reach his mouth with her own. He had pulled her in hungrily. 

Now, she matches his desire easily, running her hand down the old tshirt that covered his chest, then up under it. He reaches over his head, and grabs the back of his shirt. It momentarily divides their face as the fabric passes between them.

Just the heat of his skin under her hand is another level.  She plays at the hairs of his chest and his hand roams down to the curve of her lower back. His mouth is on hers again, devouring, demanding. His tongue is just that little bit extra in her mouth. As he pulls back, in ebb, she sucks that rich of his lip in, the tip of her tongue flicking along the fullness. 

Lower, lower, lower her hand wanders as his glides around the curve of her ass.

She runs a finger along his waistband, teasing his skin with her fingernail. The muscles of his stomach tighten in and attempt to pull away from her ticklish touch. He smiles against her lips, humming out a tiny laugh. She can feel his sweet little cupid’s bow twitching against her lips. She pulls back to look at him, her pupils dark  with want.

“Sorry, didn't mean to tickle.” her voice comes out sultry and low. 

“S’ok,” he purrs out, capturing the beauty that is his bottom lip in his teeth. 

He wants her, wants everything to do with her, He’s so fucking in love with this woman. He’d endure anything for her, from her. He’s about to tell her this, when  her tongue rims her rosy pink lips and he loses all train of thought. What she could do with that tongue, he knew, was pure sorcery.

She leans in, pulls his lip out from under his teeth with her thumb and flicks her tongue against it in little kitten licks. All just a minor distraction from her hand as it continues to explore the rim of pants. She tugs at the button of his jeans, but her angle doesn't lend itself to ease of movement.

In one swift snap of his fingers, he slips the round brass stud from its capture, his zipper follows suit and he exhales at the sudden space his now hard cock is afforded. 

She cups him gently through his briefs as her tongue continues to make promises to his mouth that she may or may not keep. 

His groan, low in his throat, is everything to her. She loves him beyond words  and  would do nearly anything to hear that sound rumble in his chest. The sound of desire, of straight up need. His need for her.

Together, they free his cock, exposing it to the cooler air. He hisses as a stray hair he must have missed is caught in the zipper. 

“You ok?” her concern written on her face.

“Oh yeah” he rubs at the sting. She catches his movement out of the corner of  her eye.

“MMMM,” her eyes narrow as an idea forms in her wicked brain. 

Together, they work his pants down just enough to keep the toothed metal away from his sensitive flesh. 

She takes in the sight of him, shirtless, pants only partly on, freckles sprinkled over the surface of him, like kisses from Ra. She walks her lips over her favorite ones;  left pec, the three that slant across his midline like Orion’s Belt, and the darkest one down and to the left from his belly button. The last conveniently near the tip of his cock. 

The fact that when he was freed and hard like this, he could drip precum just above his belly button always made her wet. In fact there was a dewy drop threatening to fall right now. She slowly laps along the tip once, twice.  

The breathy ‘oh’ that falls out of his mouth makes her hips pulse forward.

Yes, when she first laid eyes on his natural asset, she had been nervous. It was just… big. He had seen the look on her face and luckily, he knew just what to do, how to handle her. He had worked her so sweetly and thoroughly with tongue and fingers that she begged him for it. When he entered her slowly, deliberately, she had rocketed straight up and was bounding over the precipice of her orgasm within a handful of strokes. 

Anytime she lays her eyes on it now, her Pavlovian inner walls prick with heated blood flow. It turns out that he fits perfectly into her cunt.

His hand alights at his base.Holding his big cock gently away from his belly between thumb and forefinger, offering himself up to her in whatever form she wanted to take him.

It was hot, in fact, everything about him was heat itself. 

Now, she trails her fingers lightly up his magnificent shaft.The grin on his face at her touch was all the encouragement she needed. 

She pitches forward, dominating his mouth. Her hand wraps around his and pulls it onto his shaft. 

“Stroke yourself for me,” she says against his lips. Before he can protest, she produces a bottle, seemingly from thin air. Clear liquid dribbles in a line along his shaft and over his tip. 

He freezes as the cool sliquid drips onto his fingers and skin. This was not what he had in mind. In fact, he had never done it in front of her, or anyone for that matter. 

“C’mon baby, show me how you work that gorgeous cock,” she murmurs in his ear, sensing his hesitation.

Her sultry voice, her hot breath on his skin, the way her hips press against his leg leaves no space for the embarrassment that was trying to surface.   

“Please, Sugah”  she slips ever so slightly into a prettily demanding southern accent. The one that always gets her what she wants, the one that has come to drive him wild. 

“I- I don’t usually use this hand,” his mind trying to hold the two opposing thoughts of wanting to yet not. 

“Hmm, quite the dilemma then huh, cuz that’s the one that’s messy and this other one is busy bein’ all ‘round me.” She snuggles deeper into the crook of his arm. 

He tries moving the muddled hand. It feels awkward to him, like he’s never touched himself before. 

“I don’t know baby, it’s … I’m…” he stutters, those high cheekbones flushing as he breathes out what could almost be a petulant sigh. 

“You can do it,” she encourages, “we are in no hurry my love, just close your eyes and find what feels good.” She trails her fingers over the ridges of his abs. 

He nods, licking over his bottom lip before trapping it with his top teeth again. He shuts his eyes. He starts with his thumb and first two fingers, slowly up and down his now slick shaft. Short strokes become longer ones as his hand finds a metaphorical footing.

Her fingertips trace down to his legs, her nails scratch light lines up his thigh. He moans as even through the jean material, the sensation adds to his pleasure. His hand starts to grip, fisting up and down his cock. 

She watches the muscles of his forearm pop as he pauses now and then edging himself just a bit. His eyes are still screwed up tight, little lines forming between them on his forehead. The way his lips fall apart is just delicious. 

“Fuck, baby, you are so hot, I love watching you pleasure yourself,” the murmur in his ear spurring him on. More lube drips from the bottle onto his tip, then into her hand. Her palm gently cups around his balls.

“Oh fuck yeah,” it comes out more breath than vibration as his eyelids flutter. The tips of his fingers dig into her back as she massages his sac. 

The tension travels outward: squirming hips, wave of motion up his arched spine, his chin tilted up. All of it before his abs tighten and curl him in. She can tell his body just wants to fuck, primal and instinctual.  

His strokes move short and fast over his head, then long and slow over his whole length. 

Little fretful moans begin to escape him, like he’s begging for permission to cum, even though he’s in total control. 

“That's it.  You gon’ cum for me?” Her voice drips over him like honey as she drapes her leg over his. 

“Uh huh,” comes his simpering reply.

She starts to tongue the nipple nearest her, sucking in the tiny nub, grazing it with her teeth the way she knows he likes it. 

His whimpering moans are like music to her ears. His glutes flex, his feet try to find purchase, his body is shaking.

“God, it’s so sexy,” she says more to herself than him. Her pussy squelches in her panties as she presses against him, desperate for friction against his thigh. 

His edgy , percussive sounds give way to deep grunts. His hand stills as his hips jut forcefully forward, fucking his length up into the ring of his fist. 

She can feel his testes tighten to his body. 

“Let me hear you sugar.” She extends one wet finger behind his balls doing her best to stay light and steady in the storm of his passion. His hip thrusts rub the pad of her finger across his tight little pucker. It is his total undoing. 

Long, loud growls accompany the strain of his hips and gnashing of his teeth. His pelvis tucks and his abs are rock hard.

White cream spurts from his tip, a milky line from his sternal notch to his belly button and back again. He seethes, air hissing in and out from between clenched jaw.

“Good boy, that’s what I want,” she rises. In one motion she straddles his chest, skirt hiked and rubs her cotton panties on his cum covered chest. She’s not even thinking right now, her need is cardinal. 

His hand is still on his cock, arm trapped under her leg. He never thought someone riding his chest would be so fucking hot. 

Still panting, his other hand wiggles its way under the sticky fabric. His fingers find the wettest pussy he ever felt. The fact that his jerking off is what has her clit drowning like this is not lost on him.

She drives back onto his fingers, leaning forward over him to let him get deeper. Her tits jiggle under her shirt. She lifts it and feeds him one of her nipples. He eagerly suckles, just like she likes. 

“MM, can you get deeper?” she moans, 

“You want my dick, it’s still hard,” his voice is low and sultry around her nipple.

She doesn’t answer, not verbally at least. Her body says it all as she scoots back and  he pulls the sodden cotton aside as though he’s done it a thousand times. She gyrates her hips, seating his tip. 

 When she finally slides back. They both groan loudly; he at the warm heat enveloping him, she at being so utterly and perfectly filled. 

Always tag me: @purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef, @allittakesisoneflight

"I've been tagged by you before Lumiere!": @thisworldisntrealhoney,  @1nho,  @megangovier, @briaandthephantoms, @andro-inherdreamworld @callumsgirl @blombardo  @fefeisastar @hacunamy @nestito702 @denised916 @jayydep @r0m4nitcl0v3r @heyidc03, @secondchild-2, @flander42 @natural-born-rebel-spirit @lecosymood @kathrynzaragoza @bsunshinexo @jayydep @ifyouloveweedletsgosmoke

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

Rainy Dayz

“Want to do the honors?” Sophie asks smugly. 

“Aw fine.” Riley chuckles, putting the tape into the VCR. It begins to play. 

“Hi friends! I’m Amanda!” Amanda beams. 

“And I’m Wooly.” Wooly grins, giving a friendly little wave. They are standing in the living room. 

“Wait a minute,” a wide smile grows onto Amanda’s face, “Is that Riley? Oh my gosh it is! Riley! Riley! Riley!” she starts jumping up and down with so much excitement the tape begins to glitch, “You’re okay!” 

“Hi Amanda.” Riley smiles softly, “Glad to see you too.”

“Riley’s back Wooly! Riley’s back!” Amanda shouts, kind of shaking him a little. The tape continues to glitch. 

“Yay…” Wooly says, though clearly not nearly as enthusiastically. 

“Don’t worry Wooly, I'm still here.” Sophie chuckles. 

“Yay!” Wooly says, a lot more enthusiastically. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Riley scoffs. 

“Nooooothing…” Wooly looks away.

“WE ARE GOING TO PLAY SO MUCH TODAY!” Amanda yells. Wooly covers his ears. The tape glitches even more. 

“I thought you wanted me to stop watching the tapes?” Riley asks. 

“I wanted you to stop putting yourself in danger. And you are way safer here than out there.” Amanda replies in a matter-of-fact way. “So the more you play with me the better… besides…” Amanda says quietly, “I missed you.”  

“So what are we going to do today, Amanda?” Wooly asks, before Riley could even respond to how much Amanda’s words had warmed their heart. How could anyone not want to save these kids?  

“We’re going to play outside!” Amanda declares. The tape glitches and Amanda and Wooly are standing in the doorway to the backyard. 

“It’s raining.” Wooly announces. 

“I can see that Wooly.” Amanda sighs. “Alright then!” She runs outside.

“AMANDA!” Wooly gasps. 

“What?” 

“It’s raining!” 

“So? We can still play!” 

“Bu-but! You should at least wear a rain jacket and boots!”

“Ah I guess you’re right about that…” Amanda says, coming back inside. 

“Now you’re trailing water into the house.” Wooly sighs. 

“Who cares, it’ll dry.”

“What if someone slips in it?” 

“What kind of idiot would do that?” Amanda asks. Wooly just shakes his head in defeat. “Now let’s get our rain gear!” 

“Why don’t we just… stay inside? We could play board games?” 

“You mean boring games!” Amanda groans. “C’mon Wooly! Live a little!” Wooly looks like he wants to protest but ultimately gives up. Amanda and Wooly walk to the closet. “Can you tell me what one we use to play in the rain?” 

“Let me! Let me!” Riley snickers, clicking on the mop. Amanda rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t look the least bit bothered by it. 

“You know that’s wrong.” Amanda smiles. Then they click on the bicycle helmet. 

“Does this ever get old to you?” Wooly asks, completely bothered by it. 

“Come on, the longer they stall the longer we get to spend with them.” Amanda reasons. 

“I guess…” Wooly sighs, rolling his eyes.

“That said, I do wanna play before the rain stops, so can we hurry this up?” Amanda asks. Sophie quickly clicks on the rain gear. Amanda grabs it and puts hers on. 

“I don’t wanna play in the rain, my wool’s gonna get all soggy.” Wooly complains. Without saying a word Amanda grabs Wooly’s rain jacket and puts it on. “It still seeps through!” 

“Then I’ll blow you off with the hairdryer when we get inside.” Amanda replies. 

“Okay that is pretty fun.” Wooly admits. 

“Now hurry up and get your boots on so we can play!” the tape glitches to them being in the backyard. 

“Look at all the puddles, Wooly!” Amanda gasps excitedly. Wooly stands over by the side holding an umbrella. 

“Rain is nice… I guess.” Wooly says, letting it gently run down his hand, “I like the sound… and it waters the flowers…” he watches Amanda giggle as she jumps in the puddles. 

“Come on Wooly! Come play!” Amanda urges her to run over and jumps into a puddle right in front of him.

“Amanda! Now I’m all wet!” 

“Yeah, silly! That’s the point!” Amanda laughs, pulling him over, causing him to drop his umbrella. She grabs both his hands. “C’mon Wooly jump with me!” They jump up and down in the puddles, steadily laughing more and more. Amanda lets go. “Tag you’re it!” 

“Amanda! We shouldn’t run in the rain! We could slip!” 

“So what if we do? Live a little!” 

“Alright then… I’m gonna get you!” Wooly shouts chasing after her. 

“This is a nice change of pace…” Riley remarks, watching them play together peacefully. 

“Yeah… they deserve this…” Sophie sighs happily, leaning against Riley offering a cup of tea. Wooly is just about to catch Amanda when he trips and falls in the mud. He gets up and brushes himself off. 

“Haha Wooly! Now you’re all muddy!” Amanda snorts. 

“Why you…” Wooly says, lunging after her. Amanda slips and falls in the mud too.

“Oooooh! You’re not getting away with that!” Amanda grins wickedly, taking a big glob of mud and throwing it at Wooly. 

“Hey!” Wooly laughs, throwing some mud back at her. 

“Bleck! Not at the face you got it in my mouth!” Now they're both messing around in the mud, throwing it at each other and laughing. 

“I am so glad I’m not cleaning the mess that’s gonna make.” Riley chuckles. 

“Shhh! They're having fun.” Sophie giggles. 

“Hey! Amanda, look! I’m singing in the rain!” Wooly sang. Amanda kicks a giant puddle of water at him. “Heeeeeeeeey! Get back here!” Amanda and Wooly run around and play until they’re completely out of breath, laying in the wet and marshy grass. 

“Haha ha… haaaaaah. That was the best.” 

“You said it!” Wooly grinned. 

“Well I’m beat. Let’s go inside.” 

“Thought you’d never say that.” Amanda and Wooly walk into the house, Amanda immediately slips on the water she tracked in earlier and falls on her butt. 

“I don’t hate to say that I told you so.” Wooly chuckles, offering Amanda a hand to help her up. She smiles and rolls her eyes. As Wooly pulls her up, Amanda slips again and they both fall. They simply look at each other and start laughing. The tape glitches and they're in the bathroom. 

“Alright! First we gotta rinse all this mud off of Wooly!” Amanda says, point the shower head at Wooly like a gun.

“Wait… what?” 

“C’mon turn on the water!” 

“Amanda there’s gotta be a better way to do thi- HEY THAT’S COLD!” Wooly shouts. Sophie shoots a chuckling Riley a sharp glare and turns the water to a normal temperature. 

“Wooly stand still-” 

“Hey now it’s hot! Amanda, that's way too hot! Amanda!” Wooly screams. Sophie frantically turns the water down. Riley is practically losing it in laughter.

“Does this stupid thing only have hot or cold?!” Sophie snaps. The tape glitches and Wooly is now all clean. Albeit soaked. 

“Achoo!” 

“Hey now, Wooly, don't get sick again.” 

“This is your fault.” He whimpers. Amanda pulls out the hair dryer and sits there drying him for a bit. “Hehe… this is fun.” 

“Yeah yeah now I gotta take a shower so get out!” 

“C’mon a little longer?” 

“I’ll spray you with cold water and not let you dry off.” 

“Okay okay. I’m leaving.” Wooly says. He steps outside and sneezes again. “You know what… I’ll make us some warm milk. That’ll warm us up.” 

“Good thinking Wooly.” Sophie beams. The tape glitches to the kitchen. 

“So Riley… are you going to stick around?” Wooly asks. He’s already looking to get rid of me. Riley thinks with annoyance. 

“Maybe for one more tape. Then there’s a lead I have to look into that one of Peter’s family members gave me.” 

“More tapes?” 

“Apparently other than the 14 we found there are 10 more tapes Kate and the others found. Not counting colored tapes but… oh yeah I got four of those too, we can binge them tonight.” 

“Fun! I love mysteries!” Sophie giggles, clapping her hands. Wooly looks a little worried. “Except this isn’t like some game of course. It’s a very serious mystery that I am taking very seriously.” Wooly smiles, grabbing the saucepan from under the stove. Am I missing something? Riley wonders, I feel like I’m missing something. 

“So after that you’re leaving?” Wooly asks, eyeing Riley. Sophie clicks on the fridge.

“Yeah to help you and Amanda too, you little brat.” Riley teases. Sophie clicks on the milk. 

“Really? You don’t seem too helpful.” Wooly scoffs. Sophie drags the measuring cup over and Wooly starts pouring some milk in. 

“Hey! Don’t talk to my partner like that!” Sophie pouts.

“Oh! Sorry Sophie!” You apologize to her, not me? I see how it is. Riley thinks. 

“Stop there- wait you’re doing two cups this time right? Hold on… hold… there you go!” Sophie instructs. 

“See, Sophie’s helpful. She’s actually nice.” 

“Aww, thanks Wooly.” 

“I feel like I’m getting ganged up on here.” Riley grumbles.

“Oh come on Riley, you know we’re just teasing.” Sophie giggles. 

“Yeah Riley we’re just teasing.” Wooly snickers, clearly both are enjoying every minute of this. 

“You’re having milk and cookies without me AGAIN?!” Amanda snaps.

“No no, we made some for you too!” Wooly says quickly. “I just thought of making something nice to warm us up.” 

“Can I put hot cocoa in mine?” Amanda asks.

“You. Are. A. Genius.” Wooly gasps. 

“Amanda… Sophie and Wooly are ganging up on me.” Riley complains. Amanda shoots them both a shocked “I’m disappointed in you” look. 

“WHAT?!” Wooly shouts. “We were not!” 

“We totally were though.” Sophie chuckles. 

“Don’t worry Riley, I'll protect you.” Amanda says, suddenly having a kitchen knife in her hand.

“Sophie! Help me!” 

“Haha! No one can save you now, Wooly!” 

“Amanda! No playing with knives!” Sophie scolds, “And Wooly, be nice to Riley, really.” What are you, their freaking mom?! Riley wonders. 

“Wooly, the milk is boiling.” Riley informs. 

“S---!” Wooly says, running over to the stove. 

“Wooly! Language!” Sophie gasps. 

“OOOOOOOOOooooooh!” Amanda grins. 

“Wooly’s in trouble!” Riley snickers. 

“Wha- Well I learned it from Riley! They always swear when they get frustrated with Amanda’s puzzles!” 

“Riley!” Sophie says scoldingly. 

“The TV was paused! I didn’t think they could hear me!” 

“You still broke the rules! Oooh what a fall from our little goody two-shoes. You’ve been breaking all the rules lately, haven’t you!” Amanda teases. 

“Grrr… well Amanda said the f-word. Twice!” 

“Amanda!” Sophie gasps. “I thought this was a kids show?”

“Being watched by two adults. Let them swear.” Riley sighs.

“We’re basically adults ourselves anyway.” Amanda adds. 

“But still! Teach them… I don’t know- something productive.” 

“Swearing is very productive,” Riley says smugly, “it’s how I get all my s--- done.” 

“Oh for the love of-” Sophie gives up and gives Riley a loving smile. “But seriously, you two probably shouldn’t be doing that. We don’t know if Hameln is watching.” 

“Screw Hameln.” Amanda says, “what are they gonna do? Fight me? HA! I’d like to see them try!” 

“Amanda… that’s not very wise…” “It’s called not giving a f--- Wooly!” 

“Amanda seriously-” 

“Hey Wooly, you started it. If I stop swearing you have to as well.” Amanda says. Wooly glares at her. 

“But what if it’s kind of fun?” he pouts. Amanda finds this wickedly funny. 

“Wooly!” Sophie gasps. 

“Give up Sophie, they’ve already bitten the forbidden fruit.” Riley smirks. She sighs and shakes her head. 

“Yeah, let's just finish making hot cocoa and watch the rain through the window in the living room.” Wooly suggests. Wait… why is this the thing they’re on the same page about? Am I getting ganged up on now? Sophie wonders. 

“That’s a great idea Wooly! Sounds relax-” the tape glitches and they're already doing it. “Today was fun.”

“Yeah, imagine if every day was like this…”

“Well… I wouldn’t want it to all be the same…” 

“Oh yeah, too much rain and our garden will drown!” Wooly laughs. 

“Thanks for playing with us today… I hope… we can always play like this.” Amanda smiles. The tape fades out and falls out of the machine. 

“Wooly seems to have really taken a liking to you.” Riley points out. 

“Yeah well, Amanda likes you more than she’s ever liked me.” Sophie chuckles. 

“Maybe we can use that to our advantage?” Riley wonders, “Not that they can tell us much more…”

“I think what’s most important is keeping them company.”

“And finding them a way out…” 

“Mmm… well even if we can’t… we should still keep them company.” 

“Yeah… I guess you’re right.” Riley sighs. 

“Anyway, I got some work to do tomorrow, so why don’t you play with them this time? Before you leave?” 

“Just me? Well okay…”

Author's note: So yeah. Riley is the “fun parent” and Sophie is the one who has rules. Enjoy the fluff for now… because it won’t last forever… >:)

[shigussy]

kahoot was kinda after my time bc it was only ever used in a class once when i was in my last year of school but i feel like it was definitely bc someone named themself the n word but dw i know who did it it was a black guy who was trying to frame his white friend for it

[cute-sucker]

your daughter hates it with her dad, satoru gojo, covers his eyes with his blindfold, crying out for him to show him his eyes. satoru just can't help but laugh at her small cries, shoving her tiny fingers in his face trying to pull off his blind. it's become a small game for her now. she doesn't understand that daddy needs his blindfold.

whenever he comes in, she wobbles over to the door, right behind you. her shy face is hiding in your white skirt. you're smiling at satoru who gives you a soft peck on the lips.

"nice to see you my dear wife," he muses, and then kneels down to look at his daughter. she's shrieking with excitement now, knowing whats to come. satoru laughs at her sudden excitement, reaching to tickle her sides.

"show me, strange man! show me your eyes!" she yells, hitting him with her paper fan. he mock winces, holding his arms as if he had gotten hurt.

"ouch! such a mighty warrior..." he mutters, and you bite your lip to stop yourself form beaming. the two of them are adorable together, and you watch your daughter giggle, her sulky pout gone in seconds.

she's still reaching for her, tiny hands swatting him away, "this is not daddy. daddy has pretty eyes."

satoru groans, "fine, fine," and then he uncovers his bind to smile at her, "happy now?"

"daddy!" she screams, jumping onto his lap, "i knew it was you!"

satoru rubs her back before looking back at you snapping a picture, "since when did she get so demanding?"

you roll your eyes, biting your lip as you try not to laugh, "she's your daughter."

and then he grins in that endearing manner before proudly looking at the fiesty girl in his arms. then he winks at you, pretty blue eyes sparkling, "damn right she is."