#the curl poking out from under his hat?

[bigassbowlingballhead]

Like are you kidding me?

[emmyrosee]

happy birthday to my Kiyoomi man (and my momma LMAOO-)

—-

When the side of the bed next to him is cold, Kiyoomi is immediately suspicious.

You’re never up and out long enough for your side of the bed to become cold, you hate the feeling of having to rewarm it under your body (though you assure him you don’t mind too much, as you warm up in his arms).

Regardless, he wakes up with a cocked brow and a small, sleepy scowl.

He makes his way out of the room, adorned only in his boxers, knuckling his eyes and smacking his lips as he searches for you.

He checks the bathroom, only to find the door wide open and dark. Then, he checks the kitchen, seeing it in a similar state, he feels a small sense of panic creep through his body.

Only to disappear when he enters the living room and finds you, sleeping. There’s countless black and gold balloons surrounding you, your body curled in on itself for warmth and a cup of cold tea resting next to you. He smiles and looks at the clock. 4 am. You must’ve been out here for hours, blowing up balloons by mouth alone.

“Hey,” he whispers, creeping towards you. He gently lays a hand on your shoulder and shakes you awake, “whatcha doin?”

“Balloons,” you barely manage, voice drunk with sleep and heavy with exhaustion. Your throat sounds raw, probably from so much energy going into the balloon blowing. He chuckles and looks around the room for more details.

There’s a small sign with “happy birthday” in black and gold still wrapped in plastic, black party hats and plates on the side table- you probably were planning on having the boys over for breakfast this morning.

“C’mon, baby,” he says softly, poking you with his toe. “Let’s go back to bed. You need it.”

“C’me.”

“Huh?”

“Carry me,” you whine.

He rolls his eyes with a smile before bending down and scooping you up in his arms, adjusting you comfortably before making his way back to the bedroom with you cradled in his arms.

“D’t tell ‘omi,” you slur, and he snickers softly.

“Won’t say a word.”

[demonpiratehuntress]

baby (name)! (Straw Hats + Ace, Law, Kaku)

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Law x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader

summary - you somehow get turned into a baby and they have to spend 24 hours babysitting you

warnings - none, except that Law's is a bit longer

a/n: just an idea that's been sitting with me for a while, I'm thinking about giving each of them a full-length one-shot on this idea

ZORO

"Shhh, he's sleeping! Maybe we can get past without him noticing."

Zoro was, in fact, not sleeping. He was pretending, just to see what kind of scandal or shenanigan Luffy - or you - got the crew into. He was about to say something, until the cry of a baby rang out. Everything and everyone stilled, the only sound being the wind whistling through the night air.

"Why the hell did I just hear a baby?" Zoro's gruff voice made the crew stiffen. The swordsman stood up and turned to face them, his eyes widening at the sight of the infant in Nami's arms. "What is that?"

"A baby!" Luffy cried cheerily, poking your tiny, chubby cheeks. "Isn't she cute! It's (Name)!"

The others all swatted at the captain as Zoro's entire body went rigid, his gaze flitting from Luffy to baby you. For a scary moment, nobody said anything, and then you saw Zoro and squealed happily and reached for him. Zoro would never admit it out loud, but his heart melted.

"I think she wants you," Usopp suggested.

Zoro smiled, surprising everyone, and scooped you into his arms. You got even more excited and giggled cutely, making grabby hands at him until he set you against his chest and you immediately fisted his shirt in your tiny hand. You gurgled softly, and Zoro found it hard to keep his composure.

He found out from Robin that this was a 24 hour issue, and you would all have to babysit infant you for that time. Zoro was, however, more than happy to do all the babysitting. He played with you, he fed you, and he napped with you. Not unlike you as a fully grown person, Zoro spent all of his time with you.

"Zoro can I-"

The swordsman damn near hissed at Luffy when the captain tried to hold you, but eventually let him under the condition that Zoro stayed to watch every second. And no stretching. He was super protective of you, because you were small and helpless and the cutest thing he's ever seen- he stopped himself before he could gush again. Who ever thought Zoro capable of gushing?

As Zoro held you in his arms while feeding you later on that day, you gazed up at him with the biggest (eye colour) eyes ever, pure innocence. He smiled gently, cradling you close to him as he cooed at you and made you giggle. He even burped you, which surprised everyone because no one thought he'd know what to do.

"Who's the cutest little baby?" He cooed when no one was around, tickling your little stomach. You giggled and blew a raspberry, raising your arms and kicking about excitedly. He grinned and pressed a gentle kiss to your small forehead. "That's right, sweetheart. You are."

He fell asleep that night with you comfortably nestled in his big arms, your small body curled up against his chest. When you woke up the next morning, you grinned widely at him.

"Let's have a baby."

ACE

Ace had just returned from a mission. He was grumpy and exhausted and all he wanted to do was see you and kiss you and hold you. He hadn't expected to walk past Marco's room and hear a baby crying.

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay," Marco was saying softly. "You have to be quiet, (Name)."

(Name)?!

Ace burst through the door, his eyes wide and frantic. When he couldn't spot you anywhere, his gaze fell to the fussing infant laying on Marco's bed. His jaw dropped, and Marco looked at the 2nd division commander a bit nervously.

"Is that my girlfriend?" Ace blinked, walking over slowly. Then he grinned widely, "She's so cute!!"

The moment you heard and saw Ace, you stopped crying and immediately squealed excitedly and tried to reach for him. You pouted and kicked your legs, whining adorably.

"You're not going to ask what happened?" Marco raised an eyebrow as Ace picked you up excitedly.

"No, as long as it's not permanent," he answered with a smile as he admired your tiny face and all your extra small features. He felt warm inside as he held you, warmer than usual, and he almost burst into flames when you grabbed his nose in your tiny hand. "Marco! Did you see that??"

He is SO excited. He is great with you, especially when it comes to entertaining you and making you giggle and laugh loudly. You are such a happy baby and Ace LOVES it, he's always doing tricks and doing silly things to make you laugh and kick your legs excitedly. He is absolutely in love with you as an infant, and he learns quickly how to feed you and bathe you because he is just so excited to have a baby to look after, even if it's only for a day. It makes him want one with you.

You're also a naughty baby.

"(Name) no!" Ace yelped when he saw you crawling towards his food as he set you on the table. What did he get? A bunch of food in his face as you laughed so loudly and so adorably the crewmembers around you all stopped to coo at you. "You naughty little-" You stopped laughing and your bottom lip trembled and your eyes got glossy and he panicked, "No no I'm sorry! You're a good girl!" You instantly bubbled with happiness again, and Ace sighed in relief.

You were a handful. You kept him on his feet, and he quickly learned that taking care of an infant was hard work. And it was exhausting. At the end of the day, he laid back on his bed and put you on his stomach, watching you drift off into slumber before he fell asleep.

He woke up to you smiling in his face, "Babe, I want a baby."

LAW

Law was so busy with work that he didn't end up going onto the island with you and the others. He figured you'd be safe with Bepo, Shachi and Penguin, since they exhibited such fierce protectiveness over you at any island the crew went to. Unfortunately, something had gone wrong, and you had been turned into an infant for 24 hours, and they knew Law would kill them all if he found out. They were hoping that he would be too busy for 24 hours to notice.

Unfortunately, Law came looking for you.

"Shachi, where's (Name)?" The captain cornered Shachi as he was returning from the kitchen. "You're all back, but she's not."

"She-she is," he stammered nervously, "I think she's sleeping with everyone else in the bunkhouse." Lying to Law was not easy, because he saw through it all. But before he could, a loud squeal met his ears. The squeal of an infant.

Law's eyes widened, "What...is that?"

"No no captain!" Shachi ran after the doctor as he followed the noise to the bunkhouse, and slammed the door open to see Bepo holding up a baby and cooing at it.

A baby girl.

When you saw Law, you giggled and clapped your tiny hands, blowing a raspberry and then sneezing. Law's jaw dropped, but he was conflicted. He couldn't decide if he wanted to strangle his crewmates, or cuddle the cutest baby he had ever seen. You whined and fussed when he didn't come closer, holding your tiny arms out. Law's eyes widened, and he backed away.

Big mistake.

You started bawling, screaming loud enough to wake the entire submarine. Penguin thrust you into Law's arms so you would stop, and when you saw you were close to Law you stopped crying and giggled innocently, reaching for his face.

"Captain, are you sure-"

"I'll be fine," Law assured Shachi, even though he was extremely nervous. "She'll never let you sleep if I don't take her." That was his excuse, but he was happy to take you away to his room and enjoy your cuteness privately.

But Law did not know what to do with you. He just sat at his desk with you on his lap, staring at him. He was staring back, and after a few minutes you giggled again and bounced on his leg. You clapped your small hands and then reached for his face, and he leaned down to give it to you, just so you could squish his cheeks and let out the cutest laugh that made him relax and smile gently.

He tried to keep you occupied, but ultimately realised that you were more interested in him than you were anything else. So he held you as he worked, and he had to admit it was a nice feeling because you were just so adorable. He read to you and told you stories and you enjoyed them so much you gave him a big sloppy kiss on his cheek.

Eventually Law became the official babysitter, as he wouldn't let anyone else touch you. Except Bepo. But even then, he'd let the bear hold you for a few minutes and watch anxiously because he had gotten so protective over you. You loved it when Bepo played with you, because he was so big and soft and gentle, but you also loved it when Law played with you. Granted, his definition of playing was a bit different, but you seemed to enjoy it. So much so that you fell asleep on him out of tiredness at the end of the day, fisting his shirt in your small hand. He smiled and held you close as you slept.

When you woke up, you were back to normal and opened your mouth to say something, but Law beat you to it, "We should have a baby."

KAKU

You don't know how it happened and neither did he. One moment you were engaging the target, and the next you were a little infant crawling around on the floor. This sent Kaku into panic mode, and he quickly took out the devil fruit user who'd de-aged you before picking you up, his eyes going wide at how tiny and fragile you were. But...he had to admit...you were adorable. Your big (eye colour) eyes were so full of innocence and wonder that his heart warmed and melted.

Then you gripped his long nose, and with a strength he didn't know babies had, tugged. He groaned at the sensation, but couldn't be mad at you since you giggled so cutely and smiled so sweetly. Your mouth was toothless, and that made you even cuter. He sighed. What was he going to do?

Ultimately, he had no choice but to take you back to HQ. The others were stunned by seeing a baby you nestled in his arms, comfortably napping on his shoulder. They had so many questions, but Kaku waved them all off and took you straight to his room. He didn't want to ask Khalifa for help, since he thought that might be sexist. So he tried his best, smiling down at you as you gurgled and watched him with one small hand in your mouth and the other playing with one of your tiny feet.

"You're so cute," he suddenly said out loud, even though he knew you couldn't understand him. But it seemed you did, because you giggled and raised your arms for him to pick you up.

Kaku carries you around like his child all day, taking care of you as best he could. He didn't do too bad of a job, since you clung to him happily and didn't want to go anywhere near anyone that wasn't him. You gave him a sloppy kiss on his long nose when it accidentally poked your little stomach, just to tell him it was okay. He fed you what soft food he could find, changed you with what little knowledge he had of babies, and played with you with anything safe that could be used as a toy without hurting you.

But his favourite moment of all was when he turned into a giraffe just to see how you would react, and instead of being scared you squealed excitedly and reached up to grab his little horns. You giggled and laughed as he played with you in giraffe form, your cutest laugh coming out when he playfully licked your chubby cheek with his long purple tongue. You accidentally grabbed it and pulled, like his nose, making him yelp in pain while you just giggled.

If Kaku was protective of you before his protectiveness surged to whole new levels with infant you. Like when Jabra almost stepped on you, Kaku kicked him so hard he went flying into the wall. Then he picked you up, relieved, and kissed you all over while Jabra groaned and passed out.

"Nothing and no one will hurt you while you're like this, (Name)," Kaku whispered, patting your back gently. You just giggled and offered him a toothless smile before yawning, prompting Kaku to gently rock you to sleep.

Later on, when you finally awoke in your grown up form, you looked for Kaku and beamed, "I think it's time we made a mini Kaku."

LUFFY

Honestly, he doesn't even know how it happened. And he was there. One minute you were a fully grown woman, and the next you were a tiny baby who couldn't even stand on two legs. Luffy is immediately overprotective, scooping you up and running back to the ship with you to show everyone else. He thinks you're the cutest thing in the world, and while he loves the older you, he also loves this smaller version of his favourite person in the world.

"Zoro! Sanji! Nami!" Luffy rattled off the names of everyone on the crew, jumping onto the ship with little you tucked safely in one arm. Everyone's jaws dropped.

"Luffy, what-"

"Look!" He excitedly held you out for everyone to see. "Little (Name)! Isn't she so cute?" He then cradled you against his chest again and smiled happily.

Everyone was thinking the same thing. There was no way Luffy could be trusted to babysit you on his own, and they didn't even know what happened. This was bad, but the captain didn't seem to have the same issues.

"WATCH HER HEAD!"

The last person everyone expected to yell at Luffy, yelled at Luffy. Zoro lunged forward to shield your head from a potential bump against the mast, after Luffy got a little too excited and stretched you further away than he anticipated. Luffy apologised when Zoro hit him hard on his head, but you seemed to enjoy the violence and you laughed when it happened. Both Luffy and Zoro looked at you, and then Zoro smirked and smacked Luffy again. Infant you laughed even harder than the first time.

This gave everyone else the same idea.

Pretty soon, everyone was taking a chance to punch or smack Luffy, and you were giggling and laughing so much that you fell on your back on the table you were placed on for safety. Everyone cooed when they saw this, before Luffy lifted you up again. He was bruised, and had bumps in some places, but he was still grinning at you.

"Baby (Name) is even cuter when she laughs!"

You reached for his face and he moved it closer, and you patted his cheek with your tiny hand as if trying to soothe his injuries. He smiled even more and watched you with bright eyes, everyone else melting as you tried to make his sores go away. You were pouting with the effort, until you discovered that his face was stretchy when you pulled his cheek. You burst into another fit of giggles, and started pulling all over his face. Luffy just laughed, thinking it was funny that you thought his stretchy skin was a toy.

So Luffy was allowed to babysit you, because he was apparently your favourite toy, but he was strictly supervised by at least one person every hour. The crew took turns, and by the end of the day you were passed out peacefully in Luffy's arms. He was smiling down at you with love and amazement in his eyes, as if he couldn't believe something so cute existed.

You woke up the next morning knowing about all of Luffy's near misses with you, but smiled and told him, "You need a little help babe, but I'd love to have your baby."

SANJI

Sanji left the group alone for a few minutes to get some much-needed ingredients and food stock for the ship. A few minutes. What trouble could you guys have gotten into in a few minutes? A lot, apparently, because Sanji came back to see Zoro holding a little infant girl.

Wait a second...

"(NAME)?!" The cook cried, rushing forward to pluck you out of the swordsman's arms and cradle you in his own. He glared at Zoro, "What happened?!"

"Luffy picked a fight with a devil fruit user," Nami sighed, "He de-aged (Name) before Luffy finally knocked him out. It'll last abiut 24 hours, according to what he said, she's stuck like that for a bit."

Honestly, Sanji didn't mind at all. He was finding this tiny you absolutely adorable, and when you looked up at him with your big, round (eye colour) eyes, he almost fainted. You were the cutest thing alive, and he wasted no time peppering your tiny chubby face with kisses, reveling in the giggles and gurgles that escaped you. You kicked your little legs happily and hugged his head, and Sanji all but melted. Your arms were so small, and barely wrapped all the way around his head.

"As cute as this is, we should get back to the Sunny," Usopp looked around nervously. "We don't want to pick more unnecessary fights."

Nami agreed, smacking Luffy on the head, and you laughed as Sanji carried you away with hearts in his eyes. You stuck your tiny hand in your mouth to suck on, and relaxed in the cook's arms as you looked around in wonder. The first thing he did back at the ship was prepare something for you to eat, and he happily fed you and dealt with you smacking the spoon and sending food flying all over the place. Mostly onto his face and in his hair.

"Come on, my sweet little one," he cooed, trying to coax you into eating the next spoonful, "Just go ah for me, please cutie?" He pleaded, demonstrating by opening his own mouth.

You giggled and opened your mouth for him and he slid the spoon into your mouth, before pulling it back out when he was sure you'd taken the food. Then you spat it out at him and laughed so hard you almost rolled backwards, and Sanji realised you were doing that to tease him. Naughty baby.

He smiled gently, "You're cute when you're naughty too!" And continued feeding you. It took him close to an hour, but he got it done. Then he changed you with help from Nami and carried you around the ship, telling you stories about the All Blue and the Grand Line as you chewed on his tie. Well, more like gummed on it, since you didn't have teeth. That spot was soaking by the time you were done, but he didn't mind. He simply kissed your little cheek and tickled your stomach, calling you a good girl before rocking you to sleep gently when he noticed your eyes drooping.

"Sanjiiiii, let's make a babyyyyyy!" Was what the crew heard from you when you woke up.

USOPP

"I LEAVE YOU GUYS ALONE FOR ONE MINUTE AND-"

Usopp's shouting was interrupted by a loud infant cry, stunning the sniper into silence. Nami just laughed nervously, trying to make an excuse for that noise but when Usopp pushed past her to see what they were hiding she knew all was lost. Usopp's jaw dropped, because he hasn't thought it could get any worse.

Baby you stared up at him innocently from Brook's lap. The musician was surprisingly good with you, singing to you softly to soothe your raging baby moods. The minute you spotted Usopp, your eyes lit up and you bounced up and down on Brook's thigh excitedly, reaching out for the sniper.

"M-me?" Usopp pointed to himself, shocked.

"That's (Name), you idiot," Sanji grumbled, but his gaze softened when he looked at you in your tiny form.

"(Name)?!" Usopp cried, before immediately lifting you into his arms. You gurgled happily and reached for his goggles, giggling when you tapped on the eyeholes. "What-"

"Don't ask," Zoro grumbled.

Usopp stared at you, eyes wide. He wasn't equipped to take care of a baby yet! He needed your help! Panic was settling in, but then soon disappeared when you nuzzled against him and wrapped your small arms around his neck. He felt his knees get weak from how good it felt, and from the adorable baby smell you emitted.

"I suppose...I AM the best person to look after her," he boasted, patting your back gently. You coeed softly and patted his shoulder, as if you were agreeing with him.

Usopp is actually really good with babies, and it shows when he looks after you. He holds you properly, plays with you so nicely that you squeal and laugh loudly from all the fun, and he knows exactly what to feed you. He's so so gentle with you, and he showers you in affection and love while trying not to faint from how adorable you are when you laugh and clap your little hands.

That is, until you steal one of his tools or contraptions and start hitting him with it or throw it at him. His butt is suddenly on fire, and he's running around yelling for water while you cackle and howl with laughter, amusing everyone else as well. He forgives you of course, kissing your chubby cheek and showing you how to properly use them, before noticing you dozed off against his chest. He smiles softly and lays down so you can sleep comfortably.

In the morning, you wake him up with kisses all over his face and a bright smile on your lips, "You know, I think it's time the crew got a new member~"

[ichorai]

hell, yeah ; series masterlist.

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader series synopsis ; pain was an old friend for the both of you. wc ; 105.3k and counting! themes ; fluff, angst, drama, slowburn, smut, childhood friends to lovers warnings / includes ; drugs, alcohol, depictions of abuse, mentions of death, hospitals, a lot of sexual jokes and general foul language, sexual situations, reader is logan's goddaughter, a lot of business talk, roman being an asshole, emotional constipation

main masterlist.

chapter one. “Jump, you fuckin’ pussy!” exclaimed Roman, though he was quick to shut his mouth when his therapist flung himself into the pool face-first.

chapter two. “I’m supposed to slip this under your pillow while you’re sleeping, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna let me get up for the rest of the night,” you whispered, crawling back to him and throwing a leg over his waist. He curled his own legs around you as well, leaning his weight into you. His head throbbed, his jaw throbbed harder, his heart throbbed the most.

chapter three. “We were kids,” you mumbled tiredly. Blurry memories of leering, smoking men and jaunty laughter crossed your mind. “How could I have known?”

chapter four. Kendall’s expression seemed to soften, recalling how the two of you would always argue over the last remaining strawberry popsicle during the summers you were still little children. When you would grab it from the freezer before he could, he’d tug on your pigtails and call you mean as you denied ever taking them, and you’d hide the wrappers in Rome’s room so he’d never know it was you. But he could always tell from the sticky red on the corners of your mouth and your sugar-highs that seemed to last for a little too long.

chapter five. “Dad,” Roman said, disrupting the eerie, tense silence. “Please?” He was a child asking for a dog again. He was a teenager asking to come home from military school again. He was a young adult asking for his dad to stop hitting him again.

chapter six. You sipped on a glass of champagne that Kendall handed you. There was more chatter—amicable and light and teasing. You poked fun at Kendall’s lame hat whilst Shiv plainly told Roman that his shoes were a size too large for his feet. That his feet were small and dainty and he would fall over if they were any smaller. More drinks, more giggling, more stories. You learned that fresh-faced college Kendall once puked on Stewy’s bed and cried at the foot of it after drinking too much. You told the siblings that you once slept with Angelina from accounting during your first year at the company, to which they responded with shocked snorts. There was a point where Roman grabbed your face and kissed you and kissed you until the rest of the siblings began faux-gagging, and Connor complained that it was like watching his siblings make out. Goddaughter-and-son incest, he’d said.

chapter seven coming soon!

[lovelytsunoda]

i saw mommy kissing santa claus // alex albon

summary: alex has to keep up the illusion that santa claus is real, and every year gets more extreme than the last. he's got footprints to put on the living room floor and cookies to eat and stocking to fill . . . and at this rate, he's going to wake up the whole house.

pairing: alex albon x wife! reader

warnings: set in the future, so alex is about 30, children ( their names are gabriel and isabella ), gabriel sees his mommy kissing santa claus (who's really just alex in a festive hat), honestly it's just fluff guys (aside from one joke about having george shove alex off a cliff if she left him to go out with santa claus)

it was the night before christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even alex albon's five cats. his wife was asleep in their bed upstairs, and the kids were down for the count, wrapped in layers of blankets as alexander tiptoes down to the living room, where the christmas tree was set up in the bay window.

he turned on the tree lights, slipping a santa hat over his dark heair and opening the walk-in closet to find the large canvas bag that he and his wife had filled with christmas presents.

above the fireplace hung four stockings. stockings that his wife had painstakingly bedazzeld for each member of the family: alex, y/n, gabriel and isabella.

he rubbed his palms together, looking at the pilsbury cookies on the coffee table.

he had some work to do.

meanwhile, y/n albon was stirring in bed, panic setting in as she groggily opened her eyes, finding her husband's side of the bed empty.

"alex?" she mumbled, slowly sitting up. a zit on her back had popped during the night, a small spattering of blood hardening on the back of her cotton nightdress.

she heard a crash coming from the basement, and she sprung out of the bed, her mama bear instincts kicking in and telling her to go and check on the kids.

first she checked on isabella, her youngest. she three-year-old had just migrated form crib to toddler bed, the small piece of ikea furniture made from stunning white wrought iron. the little girl was peacefully asleep, nestled under her snoopy blanket with a build a bear in her arms, three large stuffed animals watching over her from the foot of the bed.

she backed out of the room, closing the door before she moved further down the hall, past the sim room, to the white door decorated in glow-in-the-dark stars. gabriel was curled up in his twin bed, his head barely poking out from over his Spider-Man duvet, a stuffed reindeer clutches in his arms. a karting trophy sat on his dresser, next to a picture of him and his dad when he won his first race.

satisfied that both her kids were still soundly asleep, she set out to find her husband.

“alex?” she called out, pulling her bathrobe tight around her body as she made her way to the main floor. “alexander, what the hell are you doing?”

alex knelt in front of the couch, shaking flour over a card stock cutout of a boot print. “baby? what are you doing awake?”

“honey, you knocked the lamp over.” she chuckled, picking the ikea lamp up off the floor and setting back in the side table. “what are you doing?”

“setting the scene for Santa’s visit, obviously.” Alex chirped, yanking away the card stock. “see, snowy footprints!”

y/n laughed, fingertips against her temple. “you know that once isabella sees those presents she’s going to run right through all of the work you just put in to those footprints.”

“it’s all about the fun, love” one of the cats mewled, nuzzling against alex’s thigh as he leaned towards the coffee table, holding up the square plate. “cookie?”

"darling, it's four in the morning." she laughed, picking up a reindeer cookie from the plate. "you know that you'll eventually have to tell the kids that santa claus isn't real, right?"

"or i could let them figure it out for themselves." alex reasoned, getting to his feet and pulling his wife close. "isabella is smart, she'll figure it out before her brother does. she takes after you."

"and gabriel takes after his father. some days, it's like having three children in this house."

"hey!" alex feigned hurt. "give me a hand putting the presents under the tree? i've got springsteen."

she laughed, kissing him softly. "if you put the springsteen on, you're going to wake the kids."

"not if we use my airpods." he winked, tossing her the bluetooth case.

she let the airpods connect, putting one in her right ear before passing the case back to alexander. bruce springsteen's 'merry christmas baby' began to play as they started to empty out the canvas sack, stacking the beautifully wrapped presents underneath the white christmas tree. alex was dancing, shuffling around on the hardwood in his socks and messing up a few of the flour footprints, causing his wife to laugh.

"alex, you're going to wake the kids." she reminded, giggling as she reached for his hands, allowing him to pull her in for a dance.

she rested her head against his chest, allowing her husband to sway side to side with her, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"i'm so glad i met you. i love you, and i love our kids, and i love the life that i have created with you." alex whispered, still holding her close.

"i love you too." she hummed, leaning up to kiss him softly.

"mommy!"

alex and y/n startled, jumping and slipping apart, turning to face the stairs. gabriel stood in the middle of the staircase, white as a sheet as he clutched his stuffed reindeer.

"gabriel, honey, what are you doing awake?" y/n cooed, concerned as she walked over to her son.

"mommy, why were you kissing santa claus?"

she shot a glance at alex before taking her son's hand, walking up the stairs with gabriel as she tried to calm him down.

"sweetie, that wasn't santa claus. that was just your dad, he was tidying the living room for when santa comes to visit. we don't want santa claus tripping on any cat toys, do we?"

after she tucked gabriel back into bed, with his dinosaur nightlight switched on, she left the door open slightly, holding her robe tightly around her body as she watched him fall asleep through the crack in the door.

"who taught him that santa claus was a thirty year old thai man?" alex scoffed. "has he learned nothing from his aunties? do i look like i could eat eight billion plates of cookies in one night?"

y/n laughed, allowing her husband to hug her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "didn't your brother try and teach him that santa claus was an alien?"

"yeah, he did, didn't he." alex chuckled. "what did you tell him?"

"that you were just moving gucci's cat toys out of the way so that santa wouldn't trip. he thought i was cheating on you with saint nick."

"baby, if you left me for an aging, overweight white man and went to go live in the arctic and bake cookies all day, i'd have george shove me off a cliff."

she tilted her head up to face alex, thumb rubbing circles over his knuckles. "we're doing a damn good job with these kids, aren't we?"

"yeah babe, we are. but soon they'll grow up, and then we'll be grandparents-"

"stop talking. you're going to make me feel old!"

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @lorarri @cartierre @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @oconso @thatsdemko @twinkodium

[jolalibrary]

9. breath of fresh air

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter nine of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.3k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: this one is called jo kicked her feet mid-writing and editing.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Baby, where are you?

I’m coming now just needed to get some plants.

If you’re the forest on wheels coming towards me line up somewhere else.

Wow, that's mean, Morales.

I am. But also, that’s a fuck load of plants.

It is and we’re going to have so much fun naming them.

Surrounded by unopened boxes, and paint tins that are due to be put on the wall, you both sit cross-legged on the floor of your soon-to-be office floor.

It's hard to stop it, the smile which spreads across your lips. The scent of fast food flows from your ripped-open bag and his neatly opened one, as you watch him turn his cap backwards and dig a hand into the paper bag as he pulls out a sauce pot.

Of course, he still finds a second to glare at the plant behind you.

“It’s up for debate, but french fries might be the way to my soul.”

Dipping his own into the sauce, he smirks. “What’s the other contender?”

You, you think.

It's there, threaded inside of you. Sewn in now. Stitched so deep into you that he’ll be remembered forever, no matter what.

Meeting his eyes mid-chew, the word you reverbing around your skull. Echoing. Practically marking itself against any surface space it can in there.

“Your mouth.”

Choking, his hand is quick to cover his mouth, eyes alarmed, quickly filling with tears as he continues to hack. Sliding his drink towards him, across the floor of the project that brought him here today.

“You can’t…” he begins, taking another mouthful, “Do that to me.”

Smirking, you grab another handful of fries. “From the gleam in your eyes, I say you like it.”

“I am not gleaming.”

“No? Damn, I’m disappointed.”

Rolling his eyes, he nudges you with his foot—your eyes glancing at the dinosaur-covered socks for the twelfth time since he’s been here.

“Luca has good taste in socks.”

“You’re telling me,” he replies, “I also have Batman ones, some cartoon ones and ones with flowers on.”

Smiling, you continue to chew. “Which ones are your favourite.”

Scrunching up the paper your food came in, you throw it into the bag. Watching him take a final bite of his own as you smirk.

“It’s the flower ones, isn’t it?”

“Definitely the flower ones.”

Laughing, tongue peeking between your teeth, you lean back on your hands, legs outstretched. “Saving them for a special occasion?”

Nodding, he takes another slurp of his drink, feeling his eyes drag up and down your legs. “Thought I could wear them for when I woo you later on this week.”

“Yeah? You want to model your socks for me, Morales.”

“Dinner and a show I heard is the perfect date night.”

Wiping his hands on his napkin, he stares at you—clean hand on your ankle, massaging it.

“You keep doing that, and we won’t be building furniture.”

Groaning, he sighs. All deep, layered with confliction—until he whispers it: after. It’s low, practically dragged through the gravel of his voice by the time it reaches your ear. Heat spreading through your stomach, not able to tear your eyes from him, just thankful that he does when he goes to stand.

A moment of reprieve, a chance to collect yourself.

That is, until he stretches out his hand, sliding yours into it as he pulls you up to stand. For a moment, just paused—staring at him, a tuft of curls poking through under the rim of his hat.

“I told you how handsome you are,” you say, arms sliding around his neck, leaning close—just enough, to press your mouth to his. “Cause you are.”

Biting the edge of his lip, he smirks. “I’ve got a utility knife in my pocket.”

“Oh?”

Brows lifting, grinning, Frankie pulls you closer. “You into that?”

“On you? Fuck yeah.”

Your lips glide over his, tasting the salt from his fries and the onion from his burger. Not caring, not as you hold him close, keeping him flush, deepening it until he clutches your jaw, walking you both back, kicking a box.

“Fuck.”

Almost laughing, you smirk. “We should…”

Tongue swiping over his lip, Frankie nods. Gaze unmoving even as you step back, bending to tidy the wrappers and bags as you glance back periodically.

“What?”

Shaking his head, he shrugs one shoulder, eyes widening as he smiles. “Nothing. Jus’… hurry back.”

It leaves your lips breathlessly, the word sure. It flows through the air to him, before you leave the room, before giddiness swallows and smothers you up. A grin not easily wiped by your knee connecting with the cabinet as you skid into the kitchen. Dousing your hands in cold water, hoping the temperature will touch your cheeks and cool them.

Thinking of him waiting near the checkout—broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his worn

You do. Almost skidding in your kitchen when you throw the trash away, pausing at the sink to wash your hands, before you’re casually walking back. Doing so, just in time to see him slide that knife along the flat-pack furniture, unboxing the drawers—staring at them all crouched wearing a furrowed expression with an IKEA pencil behind his ear.

And you’re glad he doesn’t look up at the doorway, because it gives you a minute, to lean, head resting as your heart skips a step, feeling all large and full and full of happiness. A feeling, one surging up inside of you—full of lightness and truth—swirling around your breath and trying to form into words.

But, then he looks at you. Lifts his chin, the biggest brown eyes smoothing out to look at you—and you’re sure the words are going to rip out of your throat. Forced to greet the air, and burn themselves into it.

I really like you, Frankie.

I really, really do.

Each letter swallowed back, sight dropping to the knife he holds back—an act you’re apparently quite into from the way you feel the heat in your stomach, a little ripple of want starting to stir as you slowly edge your way into the room. Listening, hanging onto his words as he offers suggestions of how the two of you can do this.

It’s why it makes sense, at first, when he asks if you’d begin building the drawers while he begins the carcass. His toolbox he’d brought in with him opening, pulling various tools you’re not sure were listed on the instructions.

It continues to make sense until you realise you began constructing the drawer, incorrectly. A disappointed voice ebbing, beginning to nip. It breeds in doubt as you study the paper again, and again. Mouth opening and promptly shutting as you try to make heads or tails of what should be a very easy thing.

But that means confessing you’re about as hopeless at building as you are at the rest of the DIY project.

Peering at the instructions again, you try not to sigh. Try not to let a heavier exhale escape through your nostrils, and possibly showcase your growing anxiety-brewed annoyance.

Because you hope he’s not having you build drawers because it’s easier. Because he views you as this hopeless thing that can’t be taught. Even if, in some ways, that assumption would be correct. You just hope that it isn’t pity or any other negative connotation that has begun popping into your mind and bursting behind your eyes in sorrowful falling dark-hued confetti.

An increasing need to prove yourself rising, flooding you as though it wishes to drown you. Making it hard to swallow, never mind breathe—eyes glancing down as they begin to burn with worry, with annoyance and a lot of other emotions you’re struggling to handle—

“Hey,” he says, soothing—hand cupping your cheek as you're tilted up from diagrams to his eyes.

The ones that soothe, that calm—that feel like a safe place.

“Hi.”

Slowly smiling, he strokes your skin. A thing you’re not sure you’ll ever tire from. Not ever. Not as long as his eyes remain as kind and full of warmth.

“I was calling out for you.”

“I’m so—“

“Wondered,” he continues, interrupting, burying your apology before it meets land and plants itself, “If you wanted a go at helping me build this bit.”

Swallowing, both the emotions that remain fizzing and the worries, you smile. “You sure? I’m not… this isn’t something I’m good at.”

“That’s why I’m helping. To teach you, right?”

Nodding, you grin when his lips find your forehead, helping you up before grabbing something from his toolbox. If newer, shinier than the one you’d seen him using—a colour as close to the one you’d said was your favourite.

“Did you buy me a tool, Butterscotch?”

Scratching the back of his head, he tries not to blush. A thing you can tell from the way he averts his eyes, and pink creeps up his neck. “Yeah, it was nothing. Just thought it be easier for you to have your own.”

“My own… prodding device?”

Shaking his head, his eyes land on you. “It’s an electric screwdriver.”

“Of course it is, I was testing you.”

Snorting, he grabs a piece of wood, bringing it between the two of you. “I almost believe you.”

You think Harry would hire me even if I know absolutely nothing about hardware or tools?

To annoy me, most probably. You doing okay?

Not really.

They want more tweaks?

Yeah. I don’t mind making the changes, but wish they’d been more clear from the beginning. So I don’t feel like a failure.

You want me to call in half an hour? Can try and make you smile.

You make me smile effortlessly. But no, it’s okay. I’m going to enjoy a shower and have an early night. Sleep off my bad mood and rest my muscles from building all that furniture the other day.

You goof.

A goof who has your toolbox and her own electric tightener.

That will sound so wrong to anyone else.

Especially if I tell them it goes with my bedside power tools.

Are they what I think they are?

Maybe.

Fuck. Put thoughts in my head now.

Do I look hot?

Always. Will you message me in the morning?

Of course, baby. Try not to dream of me.

Impossible, baby.

Just got out of the movies, was able to eat half the popcorn tub before a jump scare made it mysteriously land on the floor.

Do butter-caked fingers have anything to do with it?

No. I believe the leading cause was a mean friend picking a movie that they knew would scare me. The jury is still out on whether I could have saved the popcorn if properly notified of the jump scares.

You both have fun though?

Yes, a lot. Even if I won’t sleep for a week. I’m excited to see you tomorrow. I’ve missed you.

You’ve missed me?

Try not to grin too much, Morales.

Too late for that, Rainy. I've missed you too.

I've missed butter-SCOTCH fingers.

Can tell me how much later, if you want?

Do you want to phone sex with me, Morales? I think I'd rather make you wait till tomorrow when I see you.

Now who's mean.

It’s hard to avoid the smile on your face, even in the fogged-up mirror. Water dripping down your neck, collecting in the towel wrapped around your chest as Frankie presses his lips to your hairline.

“You feelin' clean, baby?”

“I don't think what we just did in your shower could constitute as cleaning, Butterscotch.”

Smirking, skin radiating heat, Frankie tips your chin up, mouth sliding back over yours like he had done when the two of you had stepped under the shower. The intention innocent, until hungry eyes raked over bare skin.

"Robe's on the back of my bedroom door, baby," he whispers, leaving you to finish drying in his bathroom.

As though it’s normal, routine.

Your toothbrush beside his—the products you’d packed in your overnight bag on the side of the counter.

It's a thing that makes your teeth bite down on your lip and your fingers retraced the path he drew against the suds on your skin. Thinking about how the water fell down along his jaw, ran down between your bodies as he hiked your leg up—

You jump when a clatter pulls you to the present. Heart fluttering, body resting against the side of the basin as your breath dances with the steam. Even if he's rooms away, you hear him singing.

It travelling, calling to you.

A soundtrack to you re-dressing as you hang the used towel on the hook, sliding some clean clothes on, before padding out to wrap the robe around you and grab his t-shirt from the bed.

With each step to the kitchen, you're aware of how your body smells of his body wash. A scent you wish your skin only ever smells like now, if it can’t be his aftershave. Just so you could have a piece of him, a thing to go with the texts, phone calls and video chats when the two of you find moments in between the busy.

There's no need for that tonight, not as he’s cooking for you.

Shoulder resting against the door, you find yourself not wanting to announce your arrival. Just take in his frame, how his back is to you, allowing you to watch how his muscles flex along his bare back as he grabs a knife from a drawer.

“You know, if you posted this kind of video on your Instagram, I think you'd beat that one where you're showing people how to paint wood."

Glancing over his shoulder, you hold the top up. His face shifts into gratitude as he drops what's in his hand and takes it from you. Simple, a very nothing thing that his face seems to show the opposite of.

He fidgets uncomfortably, the shyest smile trying to appear. “Shut up.” 

“While you were very informative about preparing the wood before beginning in that video, I think I know how you got one hundred thousand views in a weekend.” 

Smirking, he folds his arms. “Because you watched it on repeat while you missed me?”

“No,” you grin, watching him run his tongue over his teeth to stop himself from smirking. “You like to do a little thot-shot.”

“A what-what?” 

Licking your lips, leaning against the wall, watching his fingers run up and down his bicep, arms still folded. “You wipe your face with the bottom of your t-shirt, Morales. Showing off your… physique.” 

“Mierda.” 

“You look very good. Had to watch it myself a few times, to be sure.”

His eyes dart away, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I mean it,” you add. “You look really good, Frankie.” 

Stepping forward, you kiss his cheek. The heat from it warms your lips as you try to hide your grin. Instead, pulling out a stool from under his island and sliding onto it, elbow on the worktop, you rest your chin. Watching him turn, facing back to the ingredients and pans.

That's when you spot it. The loose curl that has fallen over his forehead as he leans forward. It just hanging there. Slowly beginning to sway as he resumes chopping and slicing.

“What're you making me?”

“Special asado tacos.”

It’s hard to suppress the whimper in the back of your throat as your stomach rumbles, his chin lifting—brow raising as you try to clear your throat.

“Sounds delicious… what makes them special? Is it the chef?”

Smirking, he shakes his head. “It’s a family recipe. So, I hope I don’t fuck it up.”

“I doubt you could, right? It’s in your bones.”

Shrugging, he stares down at some paper—his pinky flattening it, before he brushes the chopped peppers into a pan and grabs something else.

“I don’t make it often.”

“How many times have you?”

Pausing, he doesn’t look up. Just stops his knife over the skin of the vegetable.

“Frankie. Is this the first time you’ve made it?”

“No,” he answers. Quickly, red rising up his neck. “It’s just… the first time I’ve made it for someone.”

Licking your lips, you smile—fingers outstretching over his counter, it cool under your touch. “Oh, you like me, like me.”

Smirking, he continues to chop and dice, shooting glances at you. “Maybe.”

“I think you do.”

The precision he cuts with makes you almost forget your teasing—your own name, even. The quickness of it, the perfect way they’re all cut. It’s enough to make your thighs press, a new competency unlocked it seemed—as though you were both collecting and becoming aware of them all at once.

Distantly, you hear your name. Briefly aware as you flick your gaze up, of the concern etched there—the sudden silence damning.

“Hm?”

Grinning, shaking his head as he slides the chopped food away. “I said, what makes you say that?”

Sighing, all deep—almost soothing, you smile. “Well, you named all my new plants with me.”

“I did do that.”

Nodding, you roll your lips as he uses his little finger to trace down the recipe in front of him.

“And you didn’t judge me for the fact they all needed a name.”

Casting a glance your way, he both frowns and smiles simultaneously. “Baby… I’d… I’d never.”

“I know,” you say, encased in confidence, sitting up straighter, “Because you like me.”

Shrugging, he begins moving around, collecting ingredients—the back of his hand brushing over his forehead. “Maybe you’re on to something.”

Humming, you shift on your stool—watching. Finding it hard not to keep your eyes on him, not as he moves around confidently, capably, sprinkling things in and adding pinches of others.

It isn’t until he seems more content, that things are doing what they’re supposed to, do you slip from the stool. Moving towards him, sliding between him and the worktop as your fingers brush over his cheek—an act so similar to the shower, before his hand slid between your thighs and made you struggle to stand.

“I like you too,” you whisper.

His eyebrows raise at the suggestion, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Is that so?” he asks. “Well, guess if we both like one another, that means I am allowed to ask something…”

Sucking in air through your teeth, you scrunch your nose. “I don't know, do you think you're allowed?”

Pinching your side softly, he smiles. “I wanted to ask... what we are, what are we?”

Narrowing your eyes, you roll your lips, fingers continuing to twist his curls around your nails. “What do you want me to be?”

Shrugging, he smiles—eyes slowly crinkling, all slow in the way they eventually narrow, mouth parting, basking you in human-made sunshine.

“You want me to be yours?”

He groans, it vibrating through you, hips rolling against his as he presses you to the counter. Body somehow humming, even after earlier.

“Want to be mine, Francisco?”

His hand grasps your hip more intently. “More than anything.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Nodding, you tug him closer too, bodies flush, little space between the two of you. “All yours.”

His nose slides against your cheek, before his forehead rests on yours. His eyes almost blend into one large brown oasis—almost.

“Now I’m your girlfriend, do I get extra privileges?”

Frowning, he steps to the side, stirring the cooking food—one hand on your hip, as though not wanting you to move.

“You know, show me how to use your power tools?”

Snorting, he rolls his eyes. “You say mine like others are different.”

Smirking, looking at him with the most innocent eyes you can fake, taking his hand in yours. “They’re different from mine.” Frowning, he stares for a second, seemingly baffled. “Mine aren’t used to build things, rather… make legs shake and make me cry out your name.”

You hear his swallow, as well as see it.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he lies, stirring again. “Jus... Y’just incredible.”

Picking up a piece of pepper, you smile—all wicked. “Oh, I know. And aren’t you lucky I’m yours?”

THEY'RE BACK, GOD I'VE MISSED THEM. next week, we enter a spicy chapter (muhaha) and a nice little announcement about them too.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[jobean12-blog]

Love in Bloom

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Plant!Dad!Bucky)

Word Count: 2,863

Summary: You and Bucky have the best coffee date then meet up at the Farmer's Market. Every minute you spend with him makes you fall harder.

Author's Note: More plant!dad!bucky for you! I'm so excited that you all liked meeting him so much! I'm having a lot of fun with him! You can read the first story HERE! And please check out @nalonzooo art to see how amazing it is! 😍Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

PS If you'd like to see the shirt Bucky is wearing you can HERE and the two plant pots, ONE and TWO. 🥰💕

Warnings: plant talk, Alpine fluffs, sweet and soft fluffs all around :)

You and Bucky have been texting every day since you met at the garden center, silly plant memes and pictures of Alpine filling up the lines between sweet words and soft flirting.

You couldn’t wait to see him for coffee today.  

The bell above the door dings as you enter and your eyes search for him. He’s standing at the counter, a large black backpack slung over his shoulders and a bouquet of flowers in one hand. He’s not wearing his hat today and his long hair is pulled back into a low bun with several strands sticking out.

When he spots you he smiles wide and waves you over.

“Hiya doll,” he says when you get close. “You look beautiful.”

You preen under his sweet words and kiss his cheek hello. “Hi Bucky.”

At the sound of your voice, Bucky’s backpack starts to move and Alpine’s white furry head peeks out between the open zipper.

“ALPINE!” you squeal, rubbing his head.

“He would have been very upset if I showed up without him,” Bucky laughs. “You can take him out if ya want.”

You reach down and gather up the cat, carefully lifting him out until he’s in your arms. You coo and gush over him while Bucky waits for your coffees.

The barista sets them down with a smile.

“Oh…shit,” Bucky mutters, finally tearing his eyes away from you when the coffee arrives. “Uh…I almost forgot,” he continues, holding out the bouquet of flowers. “These are for you.”

You take them with your free hand and bring them to your nose, inhaling the sweet fragrance.

“They’re so beautiful Bucky! Thank you!”

He grabs your coffees and starts toward a small empty table in the back. “You’re welcome doll. I got them at the Farmer’s Market in Union Square this morning.”

“You picked them out?” you ask, softly fingering the petals of the different blooms.

“Yeah,” he answers, looking both proud and slightly shy at the same time. “I like makin’ bouquets but I don’t really get the chance much.”

Bucky puts the coffees down and pulls your chair out for you. 

“Well, it’s perfect,” you tell him as you sit, setting the flowers down on the extra seat. “Thank you!”

Alpine promptly curls up in your lap, his tail swishing contentedly back and forth as you pet him.

Bucky sits next to you and unhooks the front strap of his backpack before slinging it off.

You stare at his chest.

“Oh my god,” you giggle.

“What?” he asks. “Did I drop some of my breakfast on my shirt?”

His worried eyes shoot down and he pulls his shirt away from his body, studying it closely.

“That shirt is so cute!”

He sighs in relief and lifts his eyes with a chuckle. “Yeah, I couldn’t resist.”

You press your hand to the soft fabric to smooth it out, poking the spot where the cat sits on the shelf in between all the plants. The feel of his hard chest beneath your fingertips has you pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and it takes all of your willpower to drag your hand away.

“I love it,” you whisper. “It feels soft too.”

“It’s really comfortable,” he agrees. “I’m glad you like it. I didn’t even realize I put it on. Sometimes I wonder if all the plant and cat stuff is a bit much…”

“No way,” you interject. “What’s not to love about plants and cats?”

You sip your coffee and eye him over the rim of the cup.

“You get it,” he says, the corner of his eyes crinkling with his smile.

“Mmm,” you hum, “this is so good. I can’t believe I’ve never been here!”

“This place is great,” he agrees, “and they allow cats!”

After some yummy sips and comfortable silence he asks, “so how’s Spidey? Still alive I hope?”

“Thankfully still alive,” you giggle. “But I still don’t know the best spot to keep him and how often to water him and if I should repot him? If I kill another plant I’m not sure my confidence will recover…”

You laugh but the look on your face must say it all.

“You’re not going to kill him doll!” he assures you before launching into a barrage of questions and information.

You’re long done with your coffee and scones by the time you both feel satisfied that you have enough starter plant knowledge to keep Spidey thriving.

“When he gets too big for his pot I can’t wait to pick a new one out! They have so many cute ones on Etsy!”

Bucky drops his head with a playful scoff. “Don’t even get me started on Etsy. I have two new pots on the way right now.”

“Lemme see!” you squeak, smacking him in the arm in excitement.

He feigns pain and rubs the spot. “Ouch.”

“Oh please,” you tease. “You’re like solid muscle. There is no way that hurt.”

You squeeze his bicep and he instinctively flexes.

“Well now you’re just showing off,” you tell him, “and if you don’t stop I’m going to feel you up in the coffee shop.”

He goes still, his eyes laser focused on you before they drop to your lips when your tongue darts out to wet them.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, feeling your skin heat with embarrassment. “I would never…”

“Doll,” he says, stopping you. “It’s fine. More than fine actually. I have zero problem with you touching me.”

“Oh.”

His eyes wander over your face before he leans in a little closer.

“That’s good,” you whisper, getting a good whiff of him, clean and spicy.

“Here are your blueberry muffins to go!” the barista says as she sets down the boxes.

You and Bucky move apart quickly, clearly startled out of the heat of the moment.

“Thanks,” you say, giving the barista a small smile.

When you take out your wallet he stops you with a warm hand over yours. “I got it doll.”

“But you already got the coffee and scones,” you explain.

“And I’ve got the muffins too,” he says.

“Thank you.”

He leans in and gives you a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary and your skin tingles.

“Thank you,” he whispers before pulling out his phone.

He scrolls around for a few seconds before turning his screen around so you can see it. There’s a picture of a white pot with a cat shaped face, the cat’s expression sweet and serene.

“So I got that one anddddd this one,” he says, scrolling again to a picture of another white cat planter, except this time it has four little legs.

“I love them,” you say. “They’re perfect and almost as cute as Alpine!”

Once you’re outside in the sunshine and back to some form of reality you reluctantly hand over Alpine.

“Guess I have to give him back huh?” you joke.

“Well,” Bucky begins, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re going to be at the Farmer’s Market again tomorrow morning. If you’re around you could join us?”

“I do need to stock up on fruits and vegetables,” you muse. “I’ll be there, just text me a time later.”

Thankfully Sunday morning comes quickly and you’re out the door in record time, strolling down West 17th street in the sunshine.

When you don’t see Buck you start to amble around the stalls, picking through various fruits and admiring the jarred jams.

“That one is really good.”

The deep and familiar voice makes you smile before you even turn around and when you do you see Bucky standing there with his backpack against his chest and Alpine’s head sticking out.

“Hey you two!”

He quickly but carefully swings the bag to his shoulder and wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you toward his chest for a sweet kiss on the cheek.

His hair is down today, brushing his shoulder and you have a strong urge to take one of the strands hanging in his face and twirl it around your finger.

Instead, you reach up and tuck it behind his ear, your eyes studying his face while you lean into him.

“I also have that in fig and raspberry flavor.”

“I think she’s talking to you,” Bucky says with a smirk.

“Huh?” you mumble, still staring at him.

He delicately takes your chin between his fingers and turns your head toward the stall.

“OH!” you squeak. “I’m so sorry…I was just saying hello and um…right. Did you say fig and raspberry?”

The vendor nods with a knowing smile.

“That’s great. I love figs. I’ll take one!”

You slip from Bucky’s arms and finish the transaction, taking your nicely packaged jam and walking toward the next stall, still feeling a bit awkward.

When you stop at the sunflower stall Bucky says, “I’ve always wanted to grow these but I don’t really have anywhere to do it.”

“They get really tall right?”

“Yeah, taller than me,” he says with a laugh. “I have to do more research.”

“They’re beautiful! Have you ever been to a farm to see them. It’s amazing!”

“I haven’t yet but I’d really like to do that,” he admits.

“We can go together…if you want?”

“How about you let me take you on a proper date first then we’ll go out to the farm and pick sunflowers.”

“I love that plan.”

Even though you’re still standing beside the stall and there are people walking by and around you, it seems as if it all fades away as Bucky steps closer and his fingertips graze your arm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

He whispers your name, his eyes falling to your lips just before Alpine’s paw shoots between your faces and bats away a loose piece of Bucky’s hair.

“Alpine!” Bucky chides. “Watch it buddy!”

You cover your mouth but can’t stop your eruption of giggles as you watch Alpine continue to try and bat Bucky in the face.

“Told you he was a menace!” Bucky says with a pointed look at Alpine who simply meows with a blink.

“Aw but who could be mad at that face?” you coo, scratching under Alpine’s chin.

“ME!” Bucky practically pouts. “I’m mad!”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips and after a moment of silence you both start laughing again.

“Come on,” Bucky says as he slings his arm around your shoulder. “Let’s buy some food!”

By the time you’re done perusing and purchasing it’s almost lunch time.

“I’m starving,” Bucky says as he rubs his stomach.

Your eyes fall to the action just as his shirt rides up and you catch a glimpse of his taut skin lined with a dark trail of hair that disappears into his jeans.

With a hard swallow you avert your eyes and mumble, “me too!”

“Wanna get some lunch doll?”

“What was that?” you ask, lifting your eyes to find him watching you intently.

“Do you want to grab a bite? It’s lunch time.”

“Shit, already! I’m supposed to meet my best friend for lunch at one!”

“It’s only a little after twelve, don’t worry,” he assures you with a smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’d invite you to come along but it’s our girl time,” you explain, looking disappointed yourself.

“Nope, I get it doll. That’s important time but let me at least walk you back to your place.���

“I’d like that.”

He adjusts Alpine and his backpack then takes your bag from you, switching hands so his free one is swinging next to yours.

Every so often your fingers brush as you walk and finally he hooks his pinky through yours, gauging your reaction. When you smile and tighten your grip he entwines all his fingers with yours, brushing his thumb over your knuckles.

You walk back to your apartment hand in hand.

“I can’t believe I didn’t buy any flowers or plants today,” Bucky states, looking surprised as he holds the door of your building open for you.

“Oh my gosh, you didn’t!”

“It’s your fault,” he teases. “You’re a distraction.”

You press your teeth into your bottom lip and shrug demurely before turning and heading up the steps.

“Thankfully I’m only on the second floor…this is me.”

You point to the door on the left and start to fish for your keys. Once you have the door open you tell him to come in so you can take your bag and show him Spidey.

He approves of your placement and also Spidey’s overall health and you clap your hands together happily.

Your phone dings and you grab it, quickly reading a text from Nat.

“Thank goodness she finally picked a place to eat,” you laugh.

“Me and Alpine will have to pick some pizza up on the way home,” he says with a wink.

You stand only a few inches apart, staring at each other.

“Well, I guess…” you start.

“Thanks for meeting…” he begins at the same time.

You both drop your heads and laugh.

“I had the best time Bucky. I wish we could have had lunch too…”

“Nah don’t worry, it’s ok doll. I mean I do too. I would have loved to spend the rest of the day with you but you have plans. I understand.”

He turns and starts toward the door.

“Don’t forget to say goodbye to Alpine. He’ll bitch the whole way home if you don’t.”

As if on cue Alpine’s two white ears perk up and he pops his head out of Bucky’s open backpack.

“Bye handsome,” you croon. “Be good and I’ll see you soon.”

“He’s not coming on our dinner date next week,” Bucky chimes in. “I don’t want him stepping on my toes again.”

“Awwww,” you say with feigned sadness. “I’ll miss him!”

When Bucky’s standing in your doorway he turns to face you again and licks his lips.

“Text me when you get home?” he asks, his tone unsure.

“I will,” you say with a soft smile.

“Have fun doll!”

You both stand there staring at each other again and you finally take a step closer, your eyes focused on his before they drop to his lips.

“Bye Bucky.”

You practically invite him to kiss you, pressing yourself against him as you lean up. You lay your palms on his chest and feel his muscles flex beneath you. He dips his head, his lips brushing your cheek before he gives you a quick peck in the same spot and turns on his heel.

You try to hide your disappointment with a smile but the corners of his mouth turn down as he backs up.

“See you soon,” he says quietly.

“See you soon,” you reply as you start to shut the door.

With a wave you shut it softly and let out an exhale as you deflate.

You’re not even two steps away when you hear a knock. Your stomach erupts in butterflies as you twirl around and swing the door open, staring at Bucky on the other side.

“That’s not at all how I wanted to say goodbye,” he murmurs before he steps back inside your apartment, shuts the door and spins you against it.

You realize there’s nowhere to go as you find yourself pressed to the door; Bucky’s hard body lined up with yours.

The first thing you feel is the strength of his metal hand as it wraps around your arm and his other clasping the nape of your neck as he drags you closer and covers your mouth with his.

You make a throaty sound you can’t control and cling to him, the smell of him, the feel of his hands holding you to him, it’s all overwhelming in the best way. His hand at your neck tightens every so slightly and he groans, the sound skimming across your skin like electricity.

He deepens the kiss, demanding more and it’s enough to steal your breath. Your hands dive into his hair and you moan into his mouth again, unable to stop it as his hand on your arm slips behind you and traces the curve of your spine.

With a muttered curse he breaks the kiss, pulling back only an inch to look into your eyes. His blue eyes are dark, his long lashes lowered as he traces his tongue over his swollen lips.

“Bucky?” you whisper.

He closes his eyes, resting his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry if that was…”

“It was perfect,” you whisper.

His eyes open and he lifts his head, reluctantly putting some space between you.

“Perfect,” he repeats.

He still looks like he wants to kiss you again and again as his eyes wash over you and his expression looks pained.

Your phone dings again.

“Nat,” you state, not taking your eyes off him.

He wavers, leaning toward you before he mutters, “fuck,” and runs a hand through his hair. “Right. Lunch.”

“I’ll talk to you later doll,” he says.

“Ok,” you manage, willing your body to keep holding you upright.

He gives you a slow and sexy smile before turning and walking down the steps.

@book-dragon-13 @randomfandompenguin @hiddles-rose @goldylions @sebstanwhore @kmc1989

[regal-bones]

SWORDTEMBER DAY 28 : DRUID

Needlefoot, of polished wood and curling smoke 🍃🌲 “‘Check it out, man,” He hopped over an overturned dustbin, and made his way into a winding alleyway. Tall, gangly buildings stretched either side of the passage, and you could see some movement behind the windows, the flicker of candlelight, and the chatter of families. ‘Come on! It’s just ahead!’ With an eyebrow raised, you stepped over the bin and followed your new friend into the dark, the tap tap of his wooden cane on cobblestone leading deeper into the underbelly of the city. You’d only been in the Capital a few days at this point, and the hustle and bustle of the city was overwhelming. It was so much noisier than the woods, so many more people, far too many who wanted to talk to you. But, this guy - Mich was his name (if you heard correctly) - he was… different. Oddly quiet, fantastically extravagant. From his feather adorned hat to every inch of his pin covered jacket, he was something else. ‘I could tell from the moment I saw you,’ he said, pulling you from your daydream. ‘Like me, ain’t ya?’ Mich didn’t turn around as he spoke - he was following some unseen route, sharp turns through narrow passages, ducking under pipes and behind gates who’s locks had long since rusted away. Smoke followed his every footstep, curling from a lit stick of incense that was wrapped to the handle of his cane. ‘You’re from the pines!’ A stunned smile spread across your face. Before you could mumble a yes, and as you were about to ask why it mattered, or how he knew, the two of you turned one last corner. Tucked between old buildings, and with a mishmash of drain pipes spanning the surrounding brick walls, was a garden. Tall pine trees poked just past the lowest of the building’s roofs, and a lush carpet of grass and wildflowers coated the floor. Bees, butterflies, and other insects flitted between the beautiful greenery, pollen dusted and dancing in the sun. Mich threw down his coat at the base of a tree, and slumped with his back against the study trunk. From his hat he took a rolled paper cigarette and lit it from his burning incense, taking a deep drag. ‘My little slice of home,’ he looked across the garden. You couldn’t hear the cacophony of the Capital at all, just a faint breeze, and a few birds chirping up on the roof ‘Stay as long as you like. Just, you know,’ He turned to you, and tapped a finger against his nose ‘Keep it between us, eh?’”

so so nearly done! This sword was one of my ideas for day 1, witch! I really liked it so I’ve been waiting all month to do this one :3

Yesterday’s sword!

You can support me on Patreon for £1 and help me make stuff like this!

[quintinh43]

23. Taking a picture together to print and hang later

I just feel like this is so something Matthew Tkachuk would do. Like maybe he prints them, puts them in a frame, and has it on his dresser or night stand. Or he sends them to his mom to give her updates on how they’re doing and SHE PRINTS THEM 🥺

Thank you for requesting, I loved this sm, I was giggling and kicking my feet while I was writing it, lowkey i might expand on this in the future and make is like a full length fic lol. Also sorry, I definitely went a stray from your request but I hope you still like it 🥹🫶🏼

-

Matthew was a picture guy. At every possible moment, he had his phone out, snapping pictures or recording short videos. "For the memories," he claimed. The problem was, you weren't a picture girl. You hated having your picture taken, and for some reason, you were Matthew's favorite muse.

On this particularly warm Florida day, Matthew, ever the gentleman, had planned a beach picnic for the two of you. Having snacked heartily, you were sprawled on the picnic blanket, an arm tucked under your head and your sun hat pulled over your face to block the sun out.

Matthew had his head pillowed on your stomach, and your fingers were tangled in his curls, scratching soothingly at his scalp while he rambled about anything that came to mind. Unbeknownst to you, Matthew was also taking photos. He was such a sucker for a cute aesthetic candid, especially because when you knew he was taking photos, you always made an effort to hide behind him in some manner.

"So basically, Brady is not gonna name his baby after me," Matthew finishes his story with a huff.

A soft chuckle rumbles through you, and you tug at his curls. "Don't worry, Matty, we can name our babies after you," you lift your sunhat and lean forward to press a kiss to his cheek. He tilts his face so that your lips land on his. He wraps an arm around your neck, his thumb brushing the column of your throat.

"Can't wait to have babies with you," he murmurs agaisnt your lips, with a bright smile. It's then that you notice his phone in hand, angled towards the two of you.

"Oh please don't tell me you just took photos of us making out," you whine embarrassedly, pulling the brim of your hat low over your face to hide behind it.

"Ok, I won't tell you," Matthew shrugs, with a sly smile, flicking your hat off your head.

"Delete them," you glare, poking him in the chest.

"Nope," Matt shakes his head.

You lunge for his phone, and he shrieks, throwing it somewhere on the picnic blanket. He catches you around the waist, pinning you beneath him. He attacks you with kisses all over your face and neck until you're a giggling, squirming mess beneath him. Matt has a hand splayed on your bare stomach, keeping you pinned while you try to catch your breath.

Before you can register what is happening, Matt has his phone in hand. He snaps a picture of you all splayed out beneath him, back arched, your hands resting on curves of your breasts, and your cheeks flushed from exertion.

"Matty," you pout, trying to swipe the phone from his hands to delete the photo. You curse his athlete reflexes as he keeps the phone out of your reach.

"I'll delete it after I print it out and stick it my wallet," he smirks.

You're eyes go wide, "you're not sticking that in your wallet,"

Matthew pouts dramatically, "but it would go so nice with my collection,"

Your face pales almost comically, "What collection?"

Matthew straddles you, keeping you pinned to the blanket, knees on either side of your hips while he shuffles through the picnic basket where your wallets and keys were stored.

In true Matthew fashion, he's had the same wallet for thirteen-ish years. The leather is all cracked, and it's falling apart at the seams. There's duct tape on one of the inside pockets that houses an old punch card to a smoothie place that no longer exists.

He pulls out three polaroids from the back pocket of his wallet and spreads them out on the blanket. You prop yourself up on your elbows to peak at the polaroids as he lays them out in a neat line.

This first one is of you laying in bed on your stomach, naked. The sheets slung low over your hips, with your leg peaking out. Your hair is splayed over your shoulder and pillow, and the sunlight casts patterns along your bare back.

The second is you leaning against a wall with a cup of coffee in your hands as you stare out the window. You'd clearly just gotten out of bed, hair a mess, and t-shirt scrunched over your hip, showing off the band of your underwear. It was from when Matthew had taken you to Paris a couple of months ago during the all star break.

The third one makes your cheeks heat as you recall the memory. In the photo, you're leaned over the arm of the couch, and Matthew's hand is wrapped around your throat. The photo cuts off right before exposing your breasts, and there are hickies blooming across your chest and collarbones. He had been on a long roadie, and you had flown down to New York while he was scheduled to play the Devils, Rangers and Islanders.

It was safe to say Matthew had liked the surprise. The Panthers went on to sweep the roadie, and your hickies had lasted for a good few weeks.

You stare at the pictures, mouth agape, trying to recall how he he'd even been sneaky enough to capture the moments. Matthew looks nervous as you look between him and the photographs.

"Since when have you had these in your wallet?" You mumble shyly. It still genuinely shocks you that Matthew finds you beautiful enough to want to immortalize you in photos. You had never thought of yourself as conventionally beautiful. But ever since you'd met Matthew, he'd been telling you that you were the most beautiful girl to exist.

Matthew shrugs, "For a while now, you're not gonna make me get rid of them are you?" He pleads.

You shake your head, eyes soft, as you wrap a hand around Matthew's neck and pull him in for a kiss. "Love you, Matty," you mumble against his lips.

"I love you too Y/n."

---

Umm, hello? I actually loved this so much? Anyway, I hope yall are doing well. I am working on these requests, I promise! Love yall!!

[crosshairlovebot]

moonlight devotions / crosshair x gn!reader

pairing: crosshair x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has a nickname.

description: you ask crosshair if he would still love you if you were a worm. he gives you his answer.

word count: 1,319

warnings: none. just fluff.

i have requests to do but this popped into my head while i was trying to sleep and i had to get it out first. this was fun to write! hope you enjoy <3

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated <3

Moonlight streamed into the room, illuminating a path from the window to the bed, stretching across the bed sheets and Crosshair’s bare chest. It was a regular warm night on Pabu, but there was a sporadic cool breeze coming off the ocean that billowed the thin curtains. It wasn’t strong enough to reach the bed you both lay in, but it cooled the room slightly, pushing you up against Crosshair’s side – not that either of you complained at the closeness.

The lantern on your bedside table was barely lit, slowly dimming throughout the night as you whispered and spoke lowly to each other about anything and everything, even though there was no one else to risk waking in your shared bungalow. You had been talking for hours, too wired up to sleep straight away after a late dinner with his brothers and sister.

Now, you were in a lull of conversation, the only sound between you was your breathing. Crosshair’s arm encircled your frame in this position, holding you to his side, his thumb rubbing your arm softly. You had hooked one of your legs over his and drew patterns into the soft brown skin of his ribs with the tip of your finger, which broke out in prickles at your touch. You suppressed a yawn and angled your head up at him from the crook of his arm, studying his features. He stared up at the ceiling, breathing deeply and evenly. His skin had tanned even more in the Pabu sun, and the crease between his brows was a little less prominent. You loved him like this. You knew he liked being like this too, even if he never expressed it in words.

“Cross?” you asked, flattening your hand against his solid stomach.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his hand squeezing your arm briefly.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

You delighted in the way his face creased in confusion. He looked down at you. “What?” he questioned, the word forming slowly.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” you repeated, lips itching to smile at him.

He looked at you, gears turning in his head as he processed your words. “Why would you be a worm?”

You turned in his grasp, so you lay on your stomach, his hand gently falling to your waist as he adjusted to look at you, the moonlight softening his face.

“Maybe there was a…sorceress who was jealous of your affection for me…and was so mad that she decided to curse me to being a worm forever,” you tried to keep a neutral expression, biting the inside of your mouth to stop it from curling in amusement.

Crosshair’s brow raised, his hand absentmindedly moving back and forth across your waist. “A sorceress?”

“Yes.”

Crosshair hummed before he thought for a moment. “Is it just you that’s a worm? Not me?”

“Just me.”

Crosshair hummed again. His hand still moving slowly, this time his fingers tracing circles on the small of your back, as he considered the question. “I guess.”

You gaped at him. “You guess?”

He raised a brow at you, lips quirking in an amused smirk. “Do you want me to say no?”

“No,” you poked him hard. “I want you to be more certain!”

Crosshair chuckled, his fingers still dancing over your skin. “Why do you want to know so bad, ka’tra?”

“Why are you avoiding the question?” you huffed.

Crosshair gave a rare grin, stretching his face. “I’m not.” You rolled your eyes. “Why are you asking me?” he asked, gently touching under your chin with his free hand.

You shrugged. “I would still love you. I’d make you a little house. Maybe even a little hat.”

Crosshair let out a breathy but confused laugh. “A hat?”

“You don’t want a worm hat?” you grinned.

“What do I need a hat for?”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, worms don’t even have eyes.”

“You can still have a hat.”

Crosshair sighed, shaking his head, still smiling. “If you were a worm, would you be able to talk?”

“No, I’m a worm.”

Crosshair tapped his lips as if in thought. “Hmm…so it would be a lot quieter then…”

You laughed, shoving him playfully, though not hard enough for him to budge even an inch. He laughed warmly as he pulled you closer with both arms around you this time.

“I would still love you if you were a worm, ka’tra. Keep you in my pocket. Take you around. Make sure no one stepped on you or used you for fish bait,” he told you, burying his head in the crook of your neck, kissing you gently there.

“Such a romantic.”

Crosshair laughed along with you, his breath tickling you as the gravelly sound filled the room and rumbled in his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and shifted you both, so he was on his back with you on top of him, chest to chest. You placed your head down on him, your ear above his heart. It beat steadily in there, as it should. It was a rhythm that comforted you beyond words. He ran one hand up and down your back, the ministration soothing you enough for your eyes to begin to get heavy and for your breathing to match his. You were on the fringes of sleep when you heard him a moment or several later.

“I would try and find a way to break the curse though,” he told you, his voice almost a whisper, his gaze stuck on the ceiling again. You lifted your head to look at him, chin resting on his sternum. You were a little surprised at his declaration, and yet…not at all. He was just like that – devoted, even in hypothetical and impossible scenarios.

You smiled softly at him, touched. “You would?”

Crosshair met your eyes, his hands slowing to a stop. “I’d miss your voice…and this,” his hands stopped and wrapped around you, so he held you tight against his body. “I’d miss holding you…having you close.”

You smiled and sat up, his arms sliding against your sides as you moved to straddle him. “You could hold me in your palm if I was a worm.” You grabbed his hand and circled his palm with your finger, then kissed it.

Crosshair shook his head. “Wouldn’t be the same…” he sat up, that same hand reaching up to cup your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone. You gazed at him, the side of his face lit by the moon, the soft brown of his eyes full of something he only ever let you see. You could count the lines on his face that had appeared from the Pabu sun and see the inconsistencies in the lines of his tattoo, where the ink had bled into the texture of his skin. Words couldn’t express the ways in which you loved him.

 His hands fell to your hips as he leaned in to capture your lips in his, kissing you sweetly but not without the searing heat that all his kisses held. With your arms wrapped around his neck, he drew you closer and you rocked yourself forward, moaning softly into his mouth as you pressed your heart into his as if they could be physically fused together. His grip on your hips tightened before he slowly pulled away, kissing down your jaw to behind your ear.

“Couldn’t do that either,” he whispered in your ear, making you shiver.

“Good thing you’re going to break the curse.”

He pressed one more kiss on your temple. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

He laid back down, pulling you with him. Tiredness suddenly seeped into your body, and you looked to see the lantern was now completely out. You sighed as you lay against his chest, letting your heavy eyelids close as Crosshair’s hand moved slowly up and down your back just as it did before, soothing you to sleep.

banner art by @vimse

mando'a / ka'tra = night sky thank you for reading! <3 hope you enjoyed this little bit of fluff! i'm on a mission to write as much soft crosshair as i can. wanted to get this out before i finished off the gen requests that have been patiently waiting to be completed. once i finish those requests, i have a few other fic ideas stuffed in my brain so stay tuned :')

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @ladyanidala @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @snarky-mans-gf @chopper-base @wenalena @shredderwest @leavingkamino @rexamongthestars @r2d2staser @bluebird-dreams @pb-jellybeans @a-streakofblue @theawkwardartist12 @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo

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[milliesfishes]

hiiiiiiiiiiii millie mouse!!!!! hope you’re doing good bb :) i’m craving some billy fluff :( could you write up a lil something about billy babying reader a lil, maybes she upset about something? i just need some good old millie’s billy :(

-🧸🎀

ofc lovey! also oh millie's billy made me smile <3 <3

౨ৎ꣑ৎbilly babying you౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x billy the kid

Shutting the door behind you and dropping your bag, you fled into the bedroom, flopping down face first atop the sheets you’d painstakingly straightened this morning. You could hear Billy in the other room, likely just coming in from a day outside, but you didn’t make a move. After today, you wanted but a few moments of peace before having to explain yourself.

It was always something when you went into town. Some apparent wrong move or gesture or word that stemmed from you, all criticized no matter what. You tried to be kind. All you ever wanted to be was kind. But it never seemed to be enough. You’d observed the other townspeople and tried to mimic them. After all, you weren’t born and raised here like so many of the other women, so maybe it was that you didn’t understand the dynamics yet.

But still nothing worked. You were shunned, even spoken cruelly to. Today, when you’d been purchasing a spool of yarn, you had complimented the dress of the woman ringing you up, and had been met with a frosty glare, a snipped one word answer.

All the way home you’d held it together, gripping the reins of your horse and trying not to cry over something so stupid. It wasn’t their fault- maybe you needed to be nicer, do some of the same activities they did. Still, tears poked at your eyes, and you didn’t let yourself cry until you were inside, even though there weren’t any neighbors for miles.

There was a wet spot in the bed where your tears had soaked in, and you burnt with shame over it. Covering it with your arms, you buried your face into them, back trembling as you let out everything suppressed from the second you stepped into the store. You hated that you were upset over this when you were the one who’d done something wrong. The only problem was that you couldn’t figure out what it was, and the frustration only made you cry more.

The bedroom door was opened, and you tried to slow down your crying to no avail. There was one set of footsteps, along with the pitter-patter of four paws on the floor. A weight was deposited on the bed, soft fur rubbing against your head as a throaty purr started up. When you felt a second tail brush against your back, you realized Billy must have carried one cat in while the other followed.

When his big, warm palm settled on your back, you sniffled, another bout of tears welling up. He gathered your hair, smoothing it carefully and pushing it to the side so he could rub your back. All the while, the two cats purred and nuzzled at your head, causing you to look up, lips twitching when you saw Willow’s pretty face and sleepy eyes. She must have been the one Billy carried in. Fish only teamed up with him when you were in distress, and even then that courtesy did not extend to picking-up privileges.

Billy continued his stroking as you sat up, leaning into him and wrapping your arms around his neck. The material of his shirt was worn from years of use, but you found comfort in familiarity. His hair was a mess from being under his hat, and one set of your fingers found the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He held you gently, starting to rock back and forth. It was a go-to when you were upset, and for a reason. Your tears began to slow down, softened by his love.

“Thought the cats might help,” he murmured into your hair, and a little laugh escaped you.

“They did,” you said, muffled by his chest. “You all did.”

Pulling back, you looked up into his eyes, seeing them brimming with worry the way you knew they would. He caught a stray tear with his thumb, smoothing over your cheekbone. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you promised, and he visibly relaxed, just a little. Reaching up to hold his wrist, you could feel it all at the tip of your tongue, about to spill over. He had that effect on you, where you wanted to tell him everything. Billy softened the protective walls you’d built, found a key to your locked doors and asked if he could use it. But you found yourself letting him in anyways every time.

“I want them to like me,” you whispered, cheeks going rosy as you looked down. It was such a silly thing to cry over, but he didn’t act as though he thought so. “The people in town. I don’t know what I did wrong-“

“Nothing.” Billy cut you off, cupping your cheek as Fish rubbed at your side, prompting you to give him a scratch under the chin. “Baby you couldn’ta done anything wrong. Look at you.” He lifted his other hand, giving it a home at the other side of your face. “My perfect girl…couldn’t do bad if you tried.”

A weak smile lifted your lips. “I must have.”

His expression grew somber, and he exhaled softly, searching your eyes. “Honey…ain’t nothin’ you did, alright? If I know you I know you’ve been sweet as can be.” Billy brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, returning his hand to your cheek. “But some folks don’t like that I’m around.”

The pang in your heart stilled you for a moment. Just by the look in his eyes you knew he was telling the truth, but it wasn’t one you wanted to hear. He was trying to tell you it wasn’t your fault, but now you wanted it to be. It would be so much easier if it was something you could fix.

Reminders that not everybody loved him the way you did came often from all directions, and you avoided them at every turn. Refused to believe people could be so cruel, so critical of someone they hadn’t even met, who hadn’t done any wrong by the law for several years now. But it caught up everywhere you went, driving you to move around wherever the wind blew, hoping this would be the town where nobody had heard of him.

He’d promised this place would be special. That this was a place for staying. You’d settled in happily, believing him the way you always did. Billy avoided town as much as he could, so you had been positive that there wasn’t any reason to be cruel towards him. But now you’d been proved wrong. Even sparingly, they would always find a way.

Seeing the realization in your eyes, Billy pulled you in again, holding you tight to his chest. He dropped his lips to the top of your head, nose buried in your hair. “It’s not you, darlin’. Never you. They can’t get to me so they figure you’re the next best thing. It ain’t right, I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Your tears fell silently as a rush of shame washed over you. He was guilty because you hadn’t been able to handle yourself over one person’s unkindness. Slumping against his chest, you let him pull you onto his lap as he settled on the bed, the telltale thump of his boots hitting the floor as he nudged them off. Billy scooted back against the headboard, hauling you up under your arms and setting you back on his thighs, face hidden in his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t be punished for lovin’ someone,” he breathed, fingers bunching up and down over the space between your shoulders. “For seein’ good in every damn person. That’s just who you are and you should be praised for it. Not shunned. I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.”

Shaking your head, you clung to his collar, nuzzling against his neck. “It’s not your fault.”

“Shh,” Billy soothed, laying another kiss to your hair. “It’s okay, sweet girl. It’s okay.” His thumb rubbed a relaxing path over your shoulder as you melted into him, calming as you became consumed by his presence.

The problem surrounded your bubble like a storm cloud, but you ignored it, choosing to revel in what you had. The man you loved, comforting you, letting you lean on him when you were upset. And it was bothering him too, you could feel the tension in his body, swept under the rug in favor of keeping you relaxed.

Fish and Willow curled up around you both, their sleepy purring only helping you further calm down. Billy kept you laying against his chest, his voice dropping to a whisper with the last of your tears and sniffling. “I know baby, I know.” He shifted slowly so that you were lying down on top of him, body between his lazily spread legs. “Shh, it’s okay.”

And it was. It all melted away as you snuggled into his chest, everything the world thought of you and him suddenly nothing.

There was only him and you and your cats, safely stowed away where nobody could touch you.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

The Lake

Steven Grant x GN!Reader • Rating:  Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist •

Summary: You and Steven go for a walk on a cold January day.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Trying to get back into the swing of acutally finishing things and posting them. Already my brain is like a) this is too difficult and b) write a part 2.

Warnings: just self indulgent fluff really, COLD, reader is wearing a beanie, references to having sex outside

Word Count: 726

“It’s fucking freezing.” Steven laughed as you neared the lake. 

The whole landscape was grey, brown, and golden okra yellow, vegetation bleached clean by the dull winter and sharp frost. 

There were some geese, or at least birds of some sort, in the far distance. Seemingly the only other living things for miles. 

“This was your idea.” You giggle as Steven grabs hold of your arm and squeezes affectionately as he nuzzles into your freezing cheek. 

“It was, wasn’t it?” He grins and kisses your temple. “Why do you let me do these things love?”

“What, have ideas?” 

“Hmm.” He chuckles and jogs on the spot for a second, his breath coming out white and misty. “I didn’t think it would be this cold.” 

You laugh again. “You should have worn more layers.” 

He nods. Steven’s suggestion of a nice, crisp winter walk had been a good idea when you were both snuggled up indoors with the heated blanket on.

“You should have worn a hat.” His ears are painfully red, the tips a stark contrast against his dark curls. You touch his cheek with your right hand, which is currently sporting a fingerless glove over a glove, under a mitten. Your fingers were still bordering on numb. 

“I’m alright love.” He smiles, his eyes bright.

“Nah, I’m not letting you get frostbite.” You pull off your beanie and shove it on his head a little unceremoniously before he can react. You yank your hood up and pull at the drawstring quickly to try to stop any more cold air than necessary from sinking in. 

“Nooo,” he pouts a little, purposely being overly dramatic to amuse you, “now you’ll get cold.” 

“I have a hood.” You gesture to your head as if he couldn’t see the aforementioned clothing right before his eyes.

“Yes, but you’ll still get cold.” 

“That means you were cold.” 

“No.” He drags out the word, trying to sound sincere but it’s clear he’s lying. 

“You’re so silly Steven,” you smile and link your arm with his as you both carry on walking. 

“Am not.” He says playfully.

“Are too.”

“You’re silly.” 

“No, you.”

“You.” 

“You.” You poke him softly in the side, barely a touch. But he still reacts like you’ve electrocuted him, giggling helplessly. You grin and wait for him to calm down a little before you continue. “Besides, I can’t bite your ears if they’re frozen and fall off.”

You know that if you had said that to Marc, he would have just given you a not-so-impressed look (his speciality), and Jake would have probably tried to playfully nip at your ears then and there to prove a point, but Steven just looked thoughtful for a moment. As if he was really considering what you had said. 

“Hmmm, you think they could actually fall off in this weather?” 

You laugh again, “that’s what you gained from this conversation?” 

He grinned happily at you. “Alright, I’ll keep your hat on, but you gotta tell me if you get too cold, okay love?” 

You nod.

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” 

“Good.” Steven took hold of your hand in his and squeezed rhythmically. 

You both walked a little further down the frosty path, the earth solid and unforgiving under the soles of your boots, and came to a stop at the lake viewing point. 

Steven wrapped his arms around you as you both took in the view and natural stillness, as if the cold had frozen time itself. 

“It’s really pretty.” 

“It is…” Steven kissed your cheek, the tip of his nose was somehow even colder than your skin. “I’m still freezing my bollocks off though.” 

You snorted, breaking into a laugh at the sudden-ness, and blatantly painful honesty. “Come on,” you tug at his hand, headed back the way you came. “Let's get you indoors, I feel like a bollock falling off might be more of an issue than one of your ears.”

Steven giggled and followed, barely taking a few steps before he spoke again. “It's kinda a shame though.”

“Hmm?”

“I mean... if it was a bit warmer…”

You give him a slightly confused glance. 

“Out here, all alone, in nature…” He raised his eyebrows slightly and waggled them at you. 

“You’d definitely lose appendages to frostbite.” 

“Maybe it’s worth the risk.” 

You give him a playful shove as you both laugh. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @pimosworld @melodygatesauthor @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love @steven-grants-world @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[kechiwrites]

mirror image

toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader

part 7/8

synopsis: two weeks into your uneasy truce, simon gets introspective.

wc: 811

cw: afab!reader, angst, banter that becomes arguing, hurt and the tiniest bit of comfort, language, trust issues, simon's pov, no gendered language. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: well, we back at it, the second last installment of this verse. i'll still take requests/thots for it of course, but soon we'll get closure for these two. for now, simon's thoughts on their situation.

new to baby blue? start here.

It’s disarming. 

And Simon Riley doesn’t like being disarmed. He doesn’t like being caught off guard, off kilter, unstable. 

It’s been happening more and more often though.

When you and Tommy look at him in perfect unison, he is struck stupid by your eyes, like you copy and pasted them onto your son. His son. His kid. His perfect, funny kid. Unmuddied by everything bad in the world. His life is pancakes and dinosaurs and that horrible fucking tv show that he’s sure rots his little mind. His life is you. Your smiles, your laugh, your cooking, your hugs. Things Simon cheated himself of when he walked out on you, choked with fear and bleeding misery.

Simon is disarmed, totally fucking helpless, a veritable babe in the woods when you let him hold you. When for the first time, in a long ass time, he gets to watch your lids flutter closed and slip into unconsciousness, in that quick, carefree way he’s always envied. 

He barely sleeps, even less so lately. 

After all, no sleeping meant no nightmares. No cloying, choking smoke-like fears reaching for the frayed edges of his subconscious. No sleeping meant he couldn’t play on your kindness, your goodness, and guilt you into holding him back when he woke up screaming, sweating, no matter how bad he wanted it.

It’s two weeks later. Two weeks after sleeping together but not sleeping together. After breakfast and an uneasy truce. Two weeks after kissing you and touching you and holding you like you both had all the time in the world. 

You’re not in a good mood. And he knows that. But he pushes you anyway, pokes and prods you even as you slam through your kitchen, noisily pulling out a pot and a huge bag of pasta shells.

“Let’s talk.” He approaches, arms crossed, full kit traded in for a skull emblazoned cloth mask, jeans and a threadbare black t-shirt, one he’d found in your bedroom days ago, stashed in the back your drawer, crumpled in a wrinkled ball, like you didn’t want to see it, but you didn’t want to trash it either. He’s been doing that lately, staying over for days and rifling through your shit, finding old relics and artifacts from a time neither of you can let go of. An old mask, a hat, t-shirts.

So many goddamn t-shirts.

“Talk?” you snort derisively, filling the pot with water. He watches you test the water with your fingertips and curse under your breath, mumbling something about shit pipes. When the pot is full, you turn to face him, lips curled, sneering. “I wasn’t aware you were capable of that. Thought you just communicated in grunts.”

“You’re funny. That's new.” He jabs, advancing in the conversation much faster than he should have, comforted in familiar territory, finding solace in what used to be commonplace for you, banter, barbs, teasing. The tense set of your shoulders should’ve warned him off it, should’ve told him you’d take it as well as a bullet in the back. But God help him, he’ll take whatever you give.

“Mm.” Your tone is casual but your answering nod is jerky, too fast, “Yeah, I developed a sense of humour when I realized our relationship had been a joke.” You slam the pot onto a burner, giving him your back. 

The air is suddenly devoid of mirth, utterly obliterated where it had been floating between you before. Now the living room and kitchen are a smoking crater, an oil rig on fire, a disaster site. 

He’s never been more grateful for his son’s propensity to nap like he’s dead.

Neither of you say anything. Simon is waiting for you to say something, to dress him down, but when you lower your head and sigh, heavy and deep with pain and exhaustion he planted within you, Simon withers. He slinks back to the living room and drops himself onto your couch. 

You wait, he’s not sure what for. He used to be so good at preempting your actions, your thoughts, your words, now he handles you like you’re a venomous reptile, looking for exposed, vulnerable flesh to strike, to bite.

You set down the glass you’d been drinking from hard. And he’s surprised you didn’t crack it.

“What do you want, Simon?” Question of the goddamn century, it is. And you’ve asked it of him plenty of times. But he never has an answer, can never really deduce just what the fuck he’s doing here, with you. With Tommy. Playing a game? Playing a role? Punishing you? Himself? All of it could be true, but none of it seems right. 

“I want to try.”

All he knows is that before this, four years seemed like a short time, nothing really. But now?

It’s an eternity. Reflected back to him in broken glass, in half full drawers, in his son’s eyes. 

In yours.

comments + tags + reblogs are so appreciated

oh simon...what do you want?

series masterlist here

[d0youc0py]

What about 🐱 or 🐶 for any of the 141 boys? I’d love to see something with pets or animals in general.

Congratulations on the followers you deserve it since your writing is amazing!!!

•Ghost•

•Female reader•

“Don’t be mad.” You said softly shutting the door behind you.

“The amount of times I’ve heard that.” Simon groaned quietly. “What’s it now?”

You poked your head out from the entry way.

“I need to tell you a story first.” You insisted, still not revealing yourself. Simon put his book down, setting his reading glasses in his lap. His face was blank, but if you squinted you swore there was a hint of amusement. “I was walking Riley and as we were passing she asked me if she could have a sister.”

“You never told me you could talk Riley.” Simon sighed, resting his chin on his fist. The large german shepherd next to you looked between the two of you.

“So of course I couldn’t say no to that little face.” You baby talked patting Riley on the head.

“Of course.” Simon said in faux agreement. “Rip it off like a band aid sweetheart.”

“Here’s Ruby!” You smiled widely, stepping out of the entryway. In you arms there was a medium sized brown tabby cat. The greying around her face gave away her age. She seemed more than content curled up against your chest, her head nestled between your shoulder and cheek.

“It’s a cat.” Simon said slowly. It’s not that he didn’t like cats- he just had never had one before.

“It’s our cat!” You corrected, bouncing over to the unsure Brit. “She’s just the sweetest and she’s been at the pet store for three years because no one wants an older cat.” Your bottom lip stuck out, your eyes big and wet.

“Oi.” Simon grumbled, grabbing you by your hips resting you on his knee. “Ruby?” Simon checked. The cat lifted her head from your shoulder staring at him with big yellow eyes. You stared at him with equally big eyes. You knew he wouldn’t refuse you- or make you take her back, but you did want his approval. “There’s so many women in my house.” Simon said finally. You giggled and rested your head under his chin.

“Are you complaining?”

“No.” Simon said quickly. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

•Price•

•GN Reader•

“Think you’ve gotten enough pictures?”

“One more.” You snickered. John grumbled something under his breath, cringing as the flash of your camera went off again. While doing a deep dive on the internet you came across a dog beanie- one that looked exactly like John’s. This wonderful discover led to a photo shoot in your living room, with your husband and oversized sheep dog sitting neatly on the couch in matching hats. You had always joked about how they kind of looked a like- now you had proof.

Thank you! I loved this request!

[withonly-sweetheart]

Not Quite Right

You're Leon's mystery, he's your mystery. He defends your honor without hesitation, but being around you has him questioning his own morals.

a/n: k personally i didnt deliver with this one i kinda sold but im some kinda block rn needed tk get smth done 🤨😔 (useless core) might rewrite later if ive got inspo

there IS a part two with both a happy and sad ending because i cant let sadness take over but i also just read "if he had been with me" and so yeah ill update this with the links when i post those

tw: angst?? age gap if you squint really hard and look between the lines but nun too serious (theres also suggestive content but wtv)

" if you couldnt tell

they said teamwork makes the dream work

hell i had some help "

wc: 1.8k

The saloon was always bathed in a hazy lemon glow, glaring back at Leon’s squinted eyes as the sawdust kicks up under his boot heels. He peels away from the rowdy crowd and nods to the barkeep for another whiskey. He never really was able to read the small, messy names of absurd drinks scrawled onto the curling paper.

Groaning in frustration, he slams it down, digging his nails into the yellowing parchment. Across the table, he catches your eye, specifically those of which narrow directly at him.

Leon admires your uniform; short, tight-fitted burnt hazel dress. It’s always been ugly to him, but you look… ravishing in it, though his eyes are cool as they flit your way.

And he realizes something else, snapping through his mind rapid-fire.

No one looks at him like that and gets away with it.

“Another round?” he calls out as you saunter past. You eye him sideways but say nothing, shifting your stance at the regulars’ raucous shouts. Not the slightest bit bothered, Leon presses, “Looks like you know your men.”

“Is that so?” you smile, knowingly. “Well, I know that folks say you’ve been ‘passing through’ a while.”

Leon chuckled. “And what do folks say about you?”

“That I know things.”

Intrigued, Leon leans forward. “And what do you know?”

You lean in as well, voice low and intimate. “I know a desperate man when I see one. What are you running from, cowboy?”

“What do you think?”

“That you’re a no-account drifter always poking your nose where it don’t belong.”

Leon chuckles, tilting his hat to adjust to the sudden shift in light. “Reckon I’ll be poking around a while longer then.”

You consider him a long moment. Strangely, Leon wishes he knew what you were thinking. “We’ll see, cowboy. We’ll see.”

Leon smiles. "And what do you suppose that means, miss?"

You chuckle drily. "I’m sure you know exactly what I mean, sir.” And with that vague answer, you turn away, step away, linger in front of him for a moment longer before sauntering away, leaving him with pink ears and flustered thoughts.

If it were anyone else, Leon would’ve been irked. But something about you is different. He doesn’t know why, in a town full of women who adore him, you’re the one to entrance him. He also doesn’t know why instead of pushing you further away, he wants to get closer, unravel your mind like tangled yarn.

So when he walks in the next week, he sits in his regular seat and raises his hand, already spotting you swaying to the music in the back. He knows you see his curled fingers first, before you zero in on his face and the corner of your mouth lifts.

"You seem to have me all figured out." Leon says as you walk past, one hand balancing the drinks on a tray. He tilts his head, studying you curiously. "You’ve done your homework, haven’t you, sweetheart?”

"I sure have,” you reply with a slow, lazy smile, leaning over the counter so only he can hear. “It might come as a shock, but I actually might be using my senses.” You lean away, completely unaware of the effect your husky voice has on him.

He blinks once, twice, before a broad grin spreads across his face. “Well…”

“I’ve got your regular?” you offer, twisting over your shoulder to check the drinks. “On the house?”

“That’s my girl,” he praises as you hand him the cool glass, somewhat back to normal. But your words linger in his mind for an indefinite amount of time. Everywhere, anywhere, whoever’s talking, he wishes it was you whispering weakly into his ear.

Especially when he comes in, as if on a schedule, the next week. His eyes are on you but his thoughts elsewhere, his senses stepping in, flashing warning signs and ringing sirens in his head.

He watches you walk past a group of men he usually sees at this particular bar, in that spot, assuming they’re regulars. What really messes with his temper is when one of them whistles appreciatively and all their eyes immediately switch from your face to a lower area.

“Pay them no mind,” you say dismissively, snapping him out of his trance. “This town has its share of fools.”

Leon pretends to glance you over before returning his stern gaze to them, recognizing one of the rowdy patrons. “Like him?”

The man catches his eye and scowls. “You got something to say, drifter?”

Leon turns back to you with a roguish smile. “Reckon it’s time I shut them fools up, what do you say?”

You sigh resignedly. “Just try not to get yourself killed.”

<><><>

You perk up at the sound you already recognize as his boots shuffling across the wooden planks. You glance back down at the drink in your hands, slightly warmer than usual because he returned so late.

When he excused himself a few hours ago, you assumed he had work to take care of. He always came back, anyways, so why bother yourself with the details when you knew that if he wanted you to know, he would’ve told you.

“Well, where have you been-” You immediately stop talking at his appearance. Blood drips down the side of his face, staining the stubble he’s been steadily growing, trickling down his neck. A bruise lines his jawline, maroon and vivid against his pale skin. He staggers over to you, slumping onto a stool, an awkward lean to the right the only sign of his pain.

“Is that mine?” he rasps, reaching for the drink.

“Kennedy!” you exclaim, gesturing to his state and yanking the glass away from his outstretched hands. “What did you get into?”

“Nothin’.” But you hear the sharp inhale he takes before continuing, “Now, did you get all this ready for me?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, gripping your glass tighter, slightly concerned.

“Use your words,” he chides. And now you aren’t concerned as much.

God, he makes you feel so stupid.

“Yes,” you grit out, struggling to be heard against the bustling crowd.

“How ‘bout this?” Leon hums, not waiting for your answer. “Drinks are on me.”

You can’t help but let a smirk tug at the corner of your lips. “Yeah? Anything I want?”

“For a pretty little thing like you, yeah,” he muses, fully turning to face you. You get a better look at his soft, baby blue eyes, fluffy, sandy hair, the way the ivory lights cast shadows across the planes of his face.

“How about not getting into fights?” you joke. He arches an eyebrow as you pass him napkins. He smears the blood across his chin, right under his lips. You can’t help but stare as he tosses his head back to swallow the drink, imagining the liquid burning his throat. “Did you actually fight that guy? You know I was just jokin’ right?”

Leon rasps something you don’t hear, eyes glazed over. “This… is different. What’d you put in it this time, sugar?”

“Just somethin’ special,” you respond vaguely. “Thought you’d like it.”

“Tastes like shit,” he comments, gingerly pushing the glass away. “What, you going around assuming everyone likes what you like?”

“Last guy did,” you mumble, slightly dejected that he didn’t take well to your concoction. To be fair, you did mess up the first guy’s order, mistaking his single for a double and decided it wouldn’t bother Leon if you got him a different drink, right?

“Last guy’s taste ain’t mine,” he says simply, humming in compliance. You wonder exactly what happened on the way here, why he shows up every week without fail. “Tastes stronger than usual.”

“Can’t handle your drinks?” you jab, the corner of your mouth lifting. It’s always amusing to you when you watch a guy stumble out of the bar, so affected by something you made. It sent a feeling of power rushing to your head, like you could potentially control everyone here.

Or more specifically, the one person you wanted wrapped around your finger.

Leon.

So what if you kept him coming back, glancing up at him every time he left, silently begging him to stay for one more drink? You grew up learning that if you wanted something, you had to work for it.

“I can handle anything,” he slurs, words connecting themselves to the sounds he makes, small purrs escaping his throat and going straight to your head. “It’s just… heavy…”

“Heavy?” You chuckle. “Right.”

“What’d you put in this?” he repeats.

“Just the scotch.” Leon immediately snaps up.

“You know I can’t-”

“Can’t what, Leon? Because you know what I sure can’t do?” His surprised and somewhat curious expression spurs you on. “I can’t sit here and pretend that there’s nothing between us, keep you coming back here every week and have you leave me on the other end of your string.”

You poke him square in his upper chest, digging your finger into the little dip between his collarbones. “And although all the other girls you take to bed can handle that, I sure can’t.”

“I’m… leaving you, sweetheart?” Leon chuckles dryly. “As far as I can tell, you’re the one walking away from me.”

“You walk in here and call me your pretty thing, then leave like it’s nothing!”

“My pretty thing?” The swinging lights dance across Leon's face as he turns, searching my gaze as if seeing new things.

“How much longer? This isn’t how you treat-” In the midst of your rambling, something switches in the air between you and Leon grabs the side of your face, leaning forward, eyes defiant yet demanding.

Quicker than the setting sun through hot summer dusks, he bends his head until your breath mingles, hot and sweet.

And when his lips meet yours, they taste sweeter than you expect, fuller than you see on the outside, like you’re tasting what you can’t see. At the touch of his other hand cupping your head, your doubts slip away.

He doesn’t need words to tell you what his pride had kept tied up tight before. You hear yourself make a sound of protest as he pulls away, suddenly, harshly, eyes shadowed by… regret?

“I… shouldn’t have… shit,” he seethes under his breath. Leon pushes back from the table, the legs of his stool grating against the wooden planks. His brows are knitted tight, like he’s wrestling some demon you can’t see.

You reach for him again but he flinches away, not meeting your imploring gaze. You realize it’s like looking at a stranger wearing Leon's face.

The thought wrenches your heart, so desperately, you plead, “Don’t go. Please. Stay. What do you need to say?”

“I… need to go,” he says, voice trembling. “This was wrong…”

"Don't do this," you beg, hating the tremor in your voice but powerless to still it. Weeks of yearning lead to one perfect moment, shattered before your eyes.

"I'm sorry." The words break on Leon's tongue like he doesn’t mean much to them. He backs towards the door, unraveling with every step while you watch, helpless.

Moonlight throws his anguished profile into sharp relief as you plead, "Stay. Tell me what's got your hackles up, cowboy."

But Leon only shakes his head, hands drawn tight. "You know this won’t work. Us… we can’t."

The words land like blows, stealing your breath. You stagger after him onto the porch, heart cracking down the middle at the distance in his eyes.

"You're running scared is all." Your own voice sounds small and far away. By the set of Leon's shoulders, you know this was a battle you've already lost. “You think you’re not the right one.”

“That’s it,” he says, eyes crinkling at the corner with his smile. “Atta girl.”

“Why?” you insist. “If the shit between us is mutual-”

“Because you’ve got your whole life in front of you, girl!” he says, exasperatedly. “I’ll just fuck everything up for you.”

“But-”

“No buts,” he cuts you off, voice final. But you can hear how it hurts him too. “I’m not heartless. I’ve got a conscience, and as much as it eats away at me, I won’t let it have this one too.” His dull eyes find yours. “I won’t let it have you, too.”

He pauses at the top of the stairs, silhouetted against the inky sky. When he turns, there’s no trace of warmth left in his smile. "Take care of yourself, sweet girl."

Then he’s gone, swallowed up by the dark. You sink onto the creaking steps, tasting tears and the agony of loss, the stars uncaring as they sparkle down at you.

[kingofthe-egirls]

SKETCH: LUFFY x Y/N

fox tales

(cw: luffy sees your sketches of him, including a sexy one, that he wants to try! kissing, est relationship, first time cunnilingus, fingering, gum gum tongue)

(a/n: reader is a devil fruit user, kitsune oc)

Way to his heart is food, you find out. Leaving little treats for him like you leave seeds for birds.

he’s eating an apple

Cross legged on your bed

He leans over to look at what you’re doing

“Hey!” You say, trying to shield your sketchbook from him

he snatches it out of your hands with ease

holds it upside down, papers falling out

they’re all sketches of him

Luffy plucks a fluttering page out of the air. He tilts his head as he looks at it, before his cheeks glow bright red.

“Um—,”

“Give it back!” You yelp, flustered. You know exactly what he’s looking at. “It’s not—what it looks like!” You gasp as you reach for it, but Luffy holds you back with one hand.

“What is it, then?” He asks. His ears are tinged pink.

The page is wrinkled a bit, now. But you can still see the fine graphite lines you’d detailed over it. Lavender watercolor splashes over two figures, tangled together in a bed. One has a straw hat. The other has pointed ears and fox tails. You yelp.

“It’s…it’s—,”

“Us.”

Silence.

“Y-yeah…,” you say, embarrassed. You scratch your head, nose scrunched. “I’m sorry, Luffy, I hadn’t ever planned on showing these to you—,”

“Why not?” His tone darkens, and you look up. His eyes are in shadow, black hair falling over his face in spikes. Crow feathers, you think.

“I-I didn’t want you to be embarrassed, or…ashamed. Of me.” Your hands curl tight in your lap. Your tails are tucked firmly between your legs. You brush over them roughly, trying to get the frizz to go down. You don’t want to look at him anymore.

“You want to do this with me?” He asks plainly. You nod, face hot. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you try not to cry. This is humiliating.

“I-I’ve never done this before,” his voice falters and you look up in surprise. He’s blushing, but his hands are steady as he points to the two figures on the page. Faint pink eraser marks glow like a halo around them. They’re holding each other. His head is between her legs.

“Oh,” you squeak. “M-me neither.”

“Well,” he grins up at you, “Wanna try?”

Your heart nearly collapses in on itself. Like a black hole. You haven't done much more with him than kiss.

Yes.

You sit up on your knees, crawling toward the edge of the bed where he stands. He's wearing red shorts, and an open soft vest. He holds the sketch paper in his strong, warm hands. You skim your fingertips over the top edge of the page. It crinkles beneath your hand.

"Yes, Luffy," you look up at him, warm. He meets your eyes with a sweet grin.

"Okay!"

He giggles, leaning forward to kiss you. His hands press into the patchy quilt beneath you, sliding his weight in between your legs.

"Lie down," he says, raspy.

You comply.

What else could you possibly do?

Luffy smiles, sketch still held in both hands as he climbs up onto the bed. He settles between your thighs.

He searches up, around the room, his tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth. "So we can see it," he says, stretching out a rubber arm to place the watercolor sketch onto your windowsill.

The suncatchers sparkle in the afternoon light, sending sparks of rainbow facets spinning throughout the room. Your skin is dappled in amber-blue, scarlet ribbons dazzling across Luffy's squishy cheeks.

You portal up to poke one.

"Hey!" he complains, swatting your hand away. He rubs at the spot between his chin and his scar, where you poked, and you snicker.

"Sorry," you tease, kicking out a leg. He catches it, strong hand wrapping around your shin. He squeezes, and you still.

"Play nice, kitty," he says, arching an eyebrow. A tail flicks out from under you, but you don't say anything. He grins, looking back at the sketch. "Here," he says, lying down on his stomach, "S'okay?"

"Mhmm," you nod, vigorously. You scoot back down the pillows to get more comfortable. He fingers at the button of your shorts, smiling at you with crinkly eyes.

"Say please."

Your ears switch back against your head, sharp and fast. You squirm, red-hot blush forming on your cheeks. "Lu-uffy," you say, eyes sliding away from him in embarrassment. He giggles.

"Shishishi," he sucks a hickey onto the inside of your thigh. He looks up at you with dark eyes, circling his tongue around the scarlet bitemark He grins, tongue still out as he says, "Say it, kitty."

"Mm--," you moan, shutting your eyes, "Please?"

"Good kitty," he murmurs, before sliding your shorts down your legs. He brings your panties down with them, hooking his fingers into the fabric. You shiver, beneath his gaze.

Luffy is staring at you with his teeth sunk into his lower lip.

He traces his fingertips up the bare skin of your thighs, coming to rest with his head between them. You press them into either side of his face. He nuzzles into the soft hairs above your cunt.

"Smells good," he whispers, before swiping his tongue along your slit. You feel something sharp and electric bolt through you. You gasp, twitching under his grasp.

"Shit," you say, spine arching, "Do that again."

So he does.

Luffy licks at your clit, swirling his tongue over it in circles.

His eyes are closed in pleasure, a soft blush forming on his cheeks. Like peonies. He hums, vibrating against your heat and sending sparks through you.

“More, Luffy—,” you gasp, arching your hips up to meet his face. His hands wrap around your legs, spreading them open so he can lick at you fully. His eyes roll back in his head.

“Tastes—so—good,” he sings, laving his tongue against your clit over and over again. His tongue pokes into your entrance, and he inhales sharply through his nose. “Fuck.”

Slow, pulsing movements of his tongue as he starts to lick his way inside you. He pulls back for a moment, swallowing his own spit and your slick. His eyes are glinting with hunger and lust, and his chest is rising and falling in short, raspy breaths. He softly, gently pushes his tongue back in. He wriggles it around, and you scream.

“Oh!” You gasp, eyes squeezed shut as you careen forward. Your hands scrabble at his shoulders, clawing for something to hold onto as pleasure rocks through you. “There!!!”

Luffy sloppily fucks you with his tongue, with greedy laps at your clit in between long pulses inside your pussy. He presses the flat of his strong, warm tongue up against your g-spot. He swirls it around, groaning shamelessly as he ruts into the mattress.

“Luffy!” You cry again, shaking violently as something swells within you. Sketching this isn’t nearly as fun as actually doing it. “So good!!!”

“Sweetheart,” he moans, slathering your whole cunt with his soaking, stretched out tongue. He wraps the slithering tip around your clit, and pulls.

“Ahh—!” You scream again, writhing under him as he pumps two fingers inside your clenching pussy. It aches around him, fluttering and quivering as he strokes the fire burning hot in your gut. “Yes, Luffy!!! Yes, yes, yes—!” Your spine curls forward, and a racing feeling of striking iron rockets through you. “So—ngh—good!”

He crooks his fingers up inside you, still wrapping his tongue over your clit in sensitive loops. “Atta girl,” he says with his mouth open sideways, head tilted so he can fuck you diligently and urgently. He’s so sweet like this, so fucking sexy—

He says your name, slurred around his stretchy tongue, and with a gasp, you cum.

Sweet, like sugar cubes dissolving in tea.

“Ah ah, ah!” You seethe, uncontrollably twitching as you slowly come down. Luffy follows the sounds you make, slowing his pace accordingly.

He kisses the inside of your thigh, stroking your lower belly with a strong, sure hand.

“How’s that?”

“So good,” you reach down to pull him up into you, smooching wet kisses all over his face. He smells like your scent, which is weird but sexy and you like it on him. He slowly reaches up to take your hand in his, before lowering it to wrap around his still-clothed cock. It’s hard as a fucking rock.

“My turn?”

****