#and then I realized I’d drawn his hands too small

[lylaclivin]

Poppy, Melvin, Rodney, and Juke from @z-t00n’s hoppscotch :) their designs are so adorable, I couldn’t resist!

#they’re so cute #I had the most trouble w/ Juke lol #I was looking at him like ‘there’s something wrong…’ #and then I realized I’d drawn his hands too small #my boy’s got some mitts on him lol #hoppscotch #I feel like this is the only order they can stand in w/out a fight breaking out

[irndad]

if you’re still doing flower prompts i’d love either Rainflower or Purple Lilac with spencer <3

a/n: heyyyy im alive! writing from my trip, love you guys, don't know the wc! flower prompts

Rainflower - realizing that you/they love them/you back

It comes on all at once. 

Spencer- he’s never been particularly good at knowing when he’s feeling romantic. There wasn’t any experience with it. He knows that he’s hardly anyone’s dream guy- all awkward gangly limbs, too tall and too full of information that no one wanted to hear.

He’s carved out a little corner of the world that he can be seen in, that he can be loved in- but he’s never really been under the notion that someone could want him. Spencer knows that he’s lucky to have even this- to have people that ignite the prickly and irritating parts of himself and love him despite about this. And while he might fantasize, daydream about a life where he can lace his long fingers with those of someone who sees him only in a loving gaze of joy, Spencer knows that he’s not the kind of person that gets that. He’s being rational about it- most days, he’s able to relegate this desire to be filled with fantasy. 

Except- something has been up lately.

His best friend is probably the best person that he’s ever met in his life. She’s a consultant with the BAU, and it’s been nice to know her, in so many ways. She’s funny and kind in a way that never seems to have a victim. Spencer is not the kind of person that particularly values physical beauty, but she possesses it in such a large margin that it is difficult to ignore. He’s actually distracted by it sometimes, having to take extra mental attention to her words when all he is drawn to is the lovely curve of her Cupid’s bow, and the both light and heavy weight of her gaze in him. I like when you look at me, he thinks. She never makes him feel small. 

When they’d met, he was reluctant to her presence in most regards. Spencer knows that when he is focused, he can be a solitary creature, and that he’s an acquired taste. But she never seemed to need time to acclimate to him. From her first day, she listened to him when he spoke, and god, she squeezed his shoulder when she walked past him. 

She never had to try to like him. He was never a concession to her. 

This morning, she is late to work. He tries not to time it, but he enjoys the ritual of his mornings far more when he’s with her. He makes her tea and greets her first thing, and she asks about his evening the day prior. He tells her about whatever foreign film or Russian book he read the night before, a little too earnestly. She listens with her lovely doe eyes, sipping slowly as she transitions into her day. It doesn’t feel like patience with her- it feels like she actually cares what he has to say. Their routine is a warm radio crackle of familiarity, his favorite part of his day.

But she’s late today.

When she walks in, she’s a little frazzled and  so, so, adorable. She’s in a T-shirt that looks so familiar to him, and a pair of jeans that look lovely on her pretty legs. It’s a pleasure, looking at her. He wish he had more time to do it, wants to leisurely drink in the sight of her like he has all the time in the world, it never feels long enough to look.

Her hair’s frazzled and she’s just about 5 minutes late- Hotch hasn’t even come out of his office yet, but she’s clearly nervous.

“You’re okay,” he hears himself say, as she plunks down her bag on the desk, “I have your tea.” 

He doesn’t expect her to look up, but she does. She looks up at him and beams, and Spencer- his heart swells. She grabs the cup, dainty pretty fingers wrapped around the curve of it, and she beams her so-sweet smile at him, and god, his knees might buckle. Has it always been this way? 

He drinks in the sight of her, as she runs a hand through her hair in a worried, incredibly endearing gesture. She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself. He wonders aimlessly, that she might have been meeting with a man this morning. It might be the explanation for the dishevelment. 

The burning bit in his chest this causes is one that lacks explanation. It hurts in a way that he cannot explain- she is not a realistic dream for him to have. It’s not like he’s never thought about the idea of the two of them together. It’s a fleeting thought, like the consideration if your life if you could fly. It’s not a dream that warrants real consideration. 

But when their fingers brush, her light touch on his hand, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like if she wanted him.

“Thank you, Spence,” she says, warm voice dripping with gratitude and something in his heart warms at the nickname, “You’re my hero.”

She takes a sip of it, and closes her eyes in a contemplative, restful moment. It’s unfairly adorable.

He’s never actually thought about it, until this moment. But her beauty transcends just being pure fact, a thing to note about his reality. It would be nice, Spencer thinks. It hits him like a tidal wave, images of her gorgeous laugh washing over him on a Sunday morning, the curve of her cheek, a world where he can hold her by the dip of her waist, where her ever-present kindness meant that she might, could, maybe, love him.

Love him back.

She has whipped cream on her finger. She took the lid of the drink off to have the whipped cream. 

He is so, so fucked. 

“Have I told you that I love you today, boy-genius?” 

Even though she’s kidding, and he stammers out a reply of acknowledgment, it is in this moment he knows, with the certainty of every empirical journal he has ever read. 

Spence Reid is hopelessly in love with his best friend, and there is absolutely nothing he can do about that. 

It’s still nice to want, though. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

[solarmorrigan]

You know how cats seem to have an innate sense of when you’re about to get up, and they choose that exact moment to sit down on your lap? And no sooner have they made themselves comfortable than you realize that you have to go to the bathroom, or someone calls you over, or the phone starts ringing, and you have to shove the poor cat off your lap?

That’s basically Eddie’s sex life right now.

Well alright, no, not entirely, but – it’s a component that’s certainly starting to become an irritation.

It’s just that Steve has a wonderful lap.

At least, Eddie assumes it’s wonderful. It’s wonderfully inviting, at the very least; it’s wide enough to offer Eddie (who is not quite as generously endowed in the whole… thighs-ass department, he’ll admit) a good seat, and he’s had his hands on the area often enough to know it’s firm but with just the right amount of give to be very comfortable.

But Eddie’s never actually gotten to spend much time on it.

He doesn’t even mean that in a sexual way (although that much is also true). Every time he’s so much as tried to plop himself down on Steve’s lap to do something as innocent as watch a movie, Steve seems to remember something he needs to get up and do within just a few minutes.

For a little while, Eddie had been worried about what that meant. Did Steve not want to spend time with him? Did Steve not want Eddie near him? Did Steve not find him attractive? Did Steve just find him annoying?

But further time spent together has given Eddie more confidence. Clearly Steve enjoys spending time with him—submits to it willingly and often—and does find Eddie annoying but in a way he enjoys. Steve also most definitely finds Eddie attractive (and, in fact, has no trouble at all spending extended time on Eddie’s lap). So at this point, it’s more of a puzzle. A frustration.

It can’t be that Eddie’s too heavy for him; Eddie isn’t a small guy, really, but he isn’t huge, either. He’s seen Steve push and pull bigger people around – hell, he’s seen Steve carry Mike a good ways through the woods and back to the car after the kid had slipped and twisted his ankle when they’d been out walking (an incident which none of them are allowed to speak of ever, for varying reasons of blackmail and dignity), and he’s not too much smaller than Eddie.

Eddie is nothing if not a direct sort of guy, though – if he’s thinking something, he’s going to say it. This is mostly because he has very little brain-to-mouth filter, but he’s learned to make it part of his image. He’s pretty sure it works for him.

All of this to say that one afternoon, as they make out on Steve’s couch, Eddie freshly settled on Steve’s lap, Eddie decides to just… ask.

He waits until he can feel Steve’s hands sliding down around his thighs—not groping, but with the intent to move him—before he pulls back to say anything.

“Hey,” he says—gasps, really, still a little breathless with his attempt to seize the opportunity, “question.”

Steve blinks up at him, startled. “Uh. Shoot.”

“Do you not like it, when I sit on your lap? Because it kinda seems like you find other places to be when I try to make that happen.”

If Steve had been startled before, that’s nothing on how he looks now. He covers it in an instant, but Eddie’s seen it; Steve’s good, he’s very good, but Eddie is literally right in his face.

“What?” Steve pulls back, brows drawn in confusion. “No. Why would I have a problem with you being in my lap?”

Eddie shrugs. “Not a damn clue. That’s why I figured I’d ask. It’s just that whenever I get myself settled here, you suddenly remember you have to get up.”

“I don’t do that,” Steve scoffs, throwing in a good-natured eye roll.

“You kinda do, babe,” Eddie says, keeping it light; this isn’t an argument, nor an accusation – it’s literally just a question, and he doesn’t want to scare Steve off.

“So you’re saying, that every time I have my boyfriend on my lap – a guy I find insanely hot, by the way,” Steve’s hand slide back up Eddie’s thighs, edging towards his ass, and this time he’s groping, “you’re saying I don’t want him there, is that right?”

Eddie’s resolve almost breaks as Steve stares up at him with his ridiculous, pretty eyes (he’s good, he’s very good, Eddie will give him that) and tugs him closer with his ridiculous, strong hands, but he knows Steve is lying. He knows it.

He just doesn’t know why.

And isn’t that interesting? Eddie wouldn’t exactly call Steve an open book, but they know each other pretty well by now; Eddie can usually read Steve, but he has no idea what he’s thinking just at the moment.

So he decides to allow it.

He’ll see where it goes.

“Hm,” Eddie hums, as if he’s thinking. “That does sound a little silly, if you put it like that.”

“Completely silly.” Steve grins up at him, but there’s a thread of very genuine sincerity in what he says next. “Of course I want you here.”

And Eddie’s not sure what to say to that, so he leans back in to kiss Steve again.

And for a while, it’s fine. Great, even. Steve is a very good kisser, after all, and Eddie likes to think he’s no slouch himself, and a good time is being had by all, except before too long Eddie can feel Steve starting to tense up under him.

Once again, Eddie doesn’t mean this in a sexual way.

It’s not the fun, anticipatory kind of tensing, but the ready to run or punch something kind of tensing. The kind of tension that comes from a threat, not from having your boyfriend on your lap.

Eddie waits to see if Steve will do anything, say anything, but he does nothing. His kisses grow more distracted, quicker and shallower, but he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t push Eddie away.

It’s when Steve starts shaking that Eddie gives up.

“Okay,” Eddie pulls away, shifting himself to the side so he doesn’t have more than an ankle draped over Steve’s legs, “what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean, what’s wrong? You’re the one who pulled away,” Steve snaps.

“Yeah, because it feels like you don’t want me up there,” Eddie shoots back.

Steve rolls his eyes again, irritated this time. “What, you don’t like it if I don’t let you sit on my lap, you don’t like it if I do let you sit on my lap– What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Maybe just the goddamn truth.”

Whatever Eddie expects, it isn’t for Steve to just… stare at him.

He stares at Eddie for a good five seconds in full silence before shaking his head. “No,” he says quietly, “you don’t want that.”

His sudden reticence only sparks Eddie’s irritation. “Don’t tell me what I do or don’t want, Steve. You don’t want to tell me, that’s on you, but don’t decide for me what I don’t want to know.”

“Well what do you think you’re going to hear, Eddie, huh?” Steve barks. “What do you want to hear? You wanna hear how Billy Hargrove sat on me – pinned me down while he beat me unconscious? Or you wanna hear how it felt to be handcuffed to a fucking chair while some Russians– while they– how it felt to be held down and not be able to stop them from doing anything?”

Steve has stood up now, pacing in front of Eddie, and Eddie wishes he could do anything other than fucking stare while his boyfriend has some kind of breakdown that he started.

“Or – or how about how I ruined multiple dates, or hookups, or whatevers when someone tried to sit themselves down on top of me and I damn near shoved them off onto the floor and then had to make up some dumb fucking excuse and run out on them before I had some kind of fucking panic attack? You wanna hear all that?” Steve demands, rounding back on Eddie. “No! You don’t… you don’t want to hear that.”

“Steve… no, I don’t wanna hear all that,” Eddie says, and hurries on when he can see Steve practically crumple in on himself, “I don’t want to hear that all that horrible shit has happened to you, but I need to.”

“Wh– what?”

“You don’t… I mean, you don’t have to give me specifics if you don’t want, but I need to know what might set you off so I don’t accidentally do it, okay?” Eddie says. “It fucking terrifies me that you went through all that, and I know I can’t do anything about it, but I’m at least not going to be one more thing that makes you hurt. I’m gonna make damn sure of that.”

“…Oh.”

It’s clearly not what Steve was expecting to hear, and for a moment he shifts uncertainly in front of Eddie. He wraps his arms around himself before seeming to think better of it and crossing them over his chest instead. Eddie wants nothing more than to draw him close and hold him, but Steve’s not quite ready yet.

“I’m not… I didn’t want to say anything. I don’t want it to be an issue,” Steve finally says.

I don’t want you to treat me differently, he doesn’t say.

“Then we won’t make it an issue.” Eddie shrugs. “You got some kind of trauma associated with sitting on other people, or can you come back over here to me?”

Steve blinks at Eddie, startled, before he gives in to a little huff of laughter, slowly crossing back over to the couch.

“You’re an ass,” he says, all fondness.

“Mm, so I’ve been told,” Eddie says, aiming a smug smile up at Steve as Steve settles himself right over Eddie’s lap. “And yet, here you are.”

“Yeah…” Steve leans in, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth, quirking a little smile as he pulls away. “Here I am.”

#This week on Steve's Got Trauma: whatever this is #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #this got a bit sappier than intended but here we are I guess #solar wrote #eddiesteve

[ghostandsoap]

The Best of the Best

John Price x Fem! Reader

Tags: Explosion. Fire. Building burning down. Typical Soap behavior. Protective Ghost. Price is a simp.

A/N: A huge thank you to @venomous-ragno​ who contributed to assisting me in working out the details of this fic! I appreciate you!

Word Count: 4.0k

“As long as it’s from you, then I’d definitely say so.”

The best of the best. 

That’s how Captain Price described you since the moment that he could really see what you were made of. He found you beyond impressive, one of the best soldiers to ever cross his path. Everyone had their strengths and weaknesses – their areas that they excelled in and their areas that they could always improve. 

When it came to you, Price had never seen you not completely dominate a skill. He knew you were quick on your feet and even quicker in your head. No one could hack, track, shoot, and kill quite like you.

You were, in Price’s opinion, the absolute best of the best.

Everybody knew your reputation. Not many people teased you or challenged your abilities. The ones who had were embarrassingly proven wrong, and it was never a mistake that was made twice. It was a well known fact how much Price admired you. And maybe, just maybe, he favorited you just a bit. Where there was Price, you were there too.

That was common knowledge.

But his assessment of you didn’t come just from your tactical skill. He found you to be unmatched in a lot of ways that weren’t related to your job at all. You knew you were one of his better soldiers, yet you never let it get to your head. You were kind to others and always willing to lend a helping hand. You looked out for your friends and colleagues, and underneath a hard exterior – you were all heart.  

He trusted you to be obedient. He never doubted that you wouldn’t give your all each and every time you had a job to do. You were a natural leader, but also a trustworthy follower. Not many people could be both.

Price was drawn to you, he would admit. He liked just about everything about you, except maybe your smart mouth – that was the only thing that ever got you into trouble. He enjoyed having conversations with you – ones that were work related or not. He had shared a drink with you a time or two, and he found you to be pleasant company. He had this fuzzy feeling in his chest whenever the two of you would take watch together, a feeling that wasn’t the most familiar to him. The time he spent with you outside of a mission or job was the time he valued the most. 

Before he knew it, he realized that he liked you just a little more than he probably should’ve.

He had offered to buy you dinner here and there – all of his attempts being shot down by your humble modesty and fear of breaking one of his most important rules. 

Avoid romance within Force 141.

It seemed that his rantings about “avoiding romantic interpersonal relationships within the force” had gotten to you. He shouldn’t have been surprised. You looked up to him, and you were his most loyal soldier. Of course you weren’t going to break one of his rules…even if he was the one who was asking you to break it. 

It took him some time to realize that he was asking a lot of you. He understood that it probably wasn’t the most comfortable situation that he had put you in. 

Price wasn’t too discouraged though. He knew there was something between the two of you. A hot ember that was just begging for some fuel to really roar into a ball of flames. Over time, there had been small moments that had been causing that spark to grow at a painfully slow pace. 

He was buttering you up in the most sincere way for the right moment. The lingering stares, the way his hand “accidentally” brushed yours when he passed you by, the compliments he made that brought a blushing heat to your face. These were all mini victories that gradually softened you up to him. 

Then, of course, there was that…one incident.

Price had felt terrible after it happened. The look on your face had immediately let him know that he had totally pushed you too far, too quickly. It had been a simple kiss. Not one that was heated or lustful. It was passionate, sure – but it was the most tender, romantic kiss that John Price had ever had the pleasure of receiving. 

In his defense, he hadn’t forced you to kiss him. It had been a mutual thing, so there couldn’t be any claims of “he kissed first” or “she kissed first.” It was genuinely one of those “the moment was right” kind of situations. It had been after a long mission, one that had lasted a few days – and those few days had been stressful torture. It was touch-and-go the whole time, and the team had been very nervous that it wouldn’t get done.  

You and Price had been attached at the hip for the duration of that particular mission, working together to get the job completed. The tension had been building up and stewing for days. There was so much emotion and so much riding on this job that it was unavoidable. When the mission did turn out in the team’s favor, and the two of you had your first moment alone – both of you gave into your desires.  

The kiss had lasted only a few seconds, much shorter than Price would’ve liked. But when he pulled away and saw the expression on your face, he knew that it had been way too soon.  

He didn’t see you for about a week after that. The days that passed consisted of you dodging him and avoiding him. It wasn’t until the next morning briefing that he took his chance to corner you, and the two of you worked it out enough to where you could go back to the way you were before.

Price had been relieved. He didn’t want to lose you as a friend or as a colleague. He needed you around – for multiple reasons. 

He made a solemn swear to himself that he wouldn’t push it anymore. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you off to the point where you really didn’t want anything to do with him. After all, Price was a patient man.

And he had no problem waiting for what he wanted.

***

The mission had been doomed from the start. 

There were too many outside factors that were a part of it that were playing against you. This mission was going to be more work and effort than it was worth (most of them were), despite its seemingly easy end goal.  

Clear the building. Find and make your way into the server room. Obtain and transfer the files to your drive to deliver back to the general. It seemed straightforward, and it seemed like something that could be done with no issues. 

However, there were two very crucial catches to this. 

This job was a little bit different from past missions. Hacking and data transfers were one of your specialties. Speed and accuracy were your strong suits, and it made the most sense to put you at the head of this task. In some ways, the success of this mission fell on you. 

The other kicker was that this specific group of terrorists was much more prepared than you originally gave them credit for. It shouldn’t have been a shock that the whole building was bugged. They knew that the force had been on their tails for a while, so it really only made sense that they made the proper measures in place to wipe their trace clean when the time was right. 

The terrorist group knew that you were there the moment the Force’s boots hit the back doorway. The goal of the mission was suddenly stricken by the enemy of time. A countdown to the demise of the server room had begun the moment that you thought you were in the homestretch. 

The building had been eerily silent. There wasn’t another person (outside of 141) in sight. That was your main indicator that something wasn’t right. If this place was guarding the top secret information, then it should’ve been littered with folks to protect it. As far as you could see, this place was abandoned and left for dead. 

Soap had been the first to make a comment on how this all seemed too convenient. His suspicions weren’t unreasonable, considering the pit of nausea that had opened in your stomach the moment that you realized the team was truly alone. 

Ghost was rigid, scanning every single door, out of place floor tile, and desolate corner. He had gone stoically silent, prepared for the bottom to fall out at any moment. Price and Gaz didn’t stray far. They were far too uneasy to let the group get separated. 

You weren’t rushed as you navigated the halls of the building, carefully working your way to the upper floors where the server room was located. The stairwells were echo chambers of every single sound, another reminder that no one was around. Five pairs of heavy footsteps trudged up each flight of stairs, your nerves growing more and more worn with each step.

You reached the correct floor, entering the hallway from the stairwell with goosebumps erupting all over your skin. Something in your gut didn’t feel right. Just as you were about to suggest to Price that 141 take a different approach, there was a loud, unmistakable noise.

The sound of the explosion and the roar of fire had caused an annoying ringing noise in everyone’s ears, and had sent everybody into overdrive. The entire building shook and rattled from the initial impact, a rush of black smoke billowing from the doorway of the room. The room had self-destructed, which was a no doubt sign that the enemy group had known you’d be coming. 

Flames engulfed the room immediately and wasted no time spreading down the hall with the final goal of destroying every square inch of the place. The heat that spread from the room was indescribable. A temperature so intense that no one in their right mind would even attempt to go through it.

The mission was simultaneously aborted, considering that there wasn’t even a mission to complete now. The only objective now was for Task Force 141 to get out alive without being trapped, burned, or crushed to death. It was a mad scramble to escape the fiery death trap, the heavy gear that all of you were carrying felt weightless from the adrenaline. 

The stairs that you had taken your time to climb were cleared in seconds, all of you using every ounce of energy and speed to get to safety. If one room was tricked, then there was no telling what the other parts of the building had been bugged with. 

It was all a blur in your mind. In reality, it had only taken about 60 seconds for the five of you to get out of the structure, but it had felt like an hour long endeavor. There was a point when 141 was safe enough to come to halt, located far off in the distance from the building that had never blown you all to smithereens. There wasn’t much that you could do other than report back to the General to explain the situation and watch the building go up in flames. 

The dread in your chest had morphed into something else. The sensation of knowing that not only had the data been destroyed, but the target enemies had likely been intelligent enough to make a backup to take it with them. The information was out there again, lost in the world to the point where it could literally be anywhere. 

This mission was back to square one. And you couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Ghost, Soap, and Gaz were kneeling in a halfway huddle, heaving with each breath in an attempt to regain control of their breathing. Price kept his eyes locked on you, watching the way that you were standing still – eyes fixed on the deteriorating building just in your view.

The sun was setting on the horizon, the sky’s hues of orange and purple nearly matching the embers and flames that were currently (and had already) destroyed the golden ticket of your mission. Months of work and weeks of preparation had been wasted on the fact that (admittedly) you had been outsmarted. 

The best of the best. 

That’s what Price had always said about you – that you were the best of the best. Your first mission as the leader, the person responsible for the success of the job and the wellbeing of your colleagues, had gone south faster than you could’ve ever imagined. 

For the first time in a very, VERY long time…

You had failed at something.

He knew you were in for a long night of overthinking this whole thing. A long night of questioning your skills and abilities. He knew you all too well. And he knew you would blame yourself for the rest of your life for this.  

Price took a few steps closer to you, resting his hand gently on your shoulder to announce his presence.

“Come on,” Price said in his most neutral yet sympathetic voice. “Let’s get out of here.” 

***

No one had seen you since returning to the safe house. 

Everyone had dispersed upon returning, taking the time to decompress and regain their composure.

Gaz and Soap had crashed nearly the moment that their bodies collapsed on opposite sides of the living space of the house. Soap didn’t even bother taking off his pack or boots, but Gaz at least made the time to get his gear off.

Ghost immediately went on watch, sitting at the window near the front door to keep an eye out for unwanted guests and intruders. Ghost never slept much. 

Price unpacked all of his belongings in his pack, noting the inventory of each item and what needed to be rearranged. It was busy work really, because he was preoccupied with thinking about you. In some ways, he felt responsible for this whole thing. 

He thought that he had done you a favor by letting you take the reins on this one. He knew it would be a good experience for you, and it was just another thing that Price would brag on you about. But he hadn’t expected it to go the way that it had. If he had known that it was going to blow up (literally) in your face then he never would’ve appointed this to you 

He supposed that really he felt responsible for how you were feeling about it.

Price was trying to give you space. He didn’t want to crowd you when he knew you were feeling lousy and down. But on the other hand, he wasn’t sure if it was such a good idea to let you stew in your own unnecessary guilt. 

He gave it some time, allowing at least the initial emotions to simmer down. He rearranged and organized his backpack about three or four times before he made the steps to find you. He had assumed that you were in the single bedroom to be alone, but when he checked only to find an empty, untouched bed, he began to panic.  

While he trusted you completely, there was the quick thought of you potentially going back by yourself to rummage through the remains of burned rubble for any kind of salvation to failure did cross his mind. That would’ve been stupid and reckless, but Price knew what sort of desperate things people would do just to prove that they hadn’t failed.

He stepped over Soap and Gaz in the living room, who were both sound asleep and snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Price knew that Ghost, who was the most aware of the five of you, would likely know where you were.

He approached the colossal man that was scanning the area outside, but was appreciative when Simon Riley’s mysterious eyes gave attention to him.

“Captain.” Ghost said both as a greeting and a question to his sudden approach. 

“Where is she?” Price posed to Ghost, who was always on the same page as him.

“Been keeping my eye on her. She’s outside,” Ghost motioned towards the pickup truck that was parked towards the side of the house. “Hasn’t said a word.” 

From where he stood, Price could just barely make out the image of your frame that was sitting on the lowered tailgate of the vehicle. Price let out a long sigh, unsure of what to do. Sometimes addressing the situation made it worse. It made the embarrassment and the disappointment feel unbearable. But other times, not addressing it set a foundation of discouragement that would build on itself. It could ruin your confidence inside and out.

“In my opinion…I think you should have a chat with her, Captain.” Ghost spoke again, as if he knew that Price were weighing his options.

“Think that would be more helpful than leaving her alone?” Price asked.

Beneath the infamous balaclava there was a silhouette of a smirk. It was a knowing expression that said it all.

“As long as it’s from you, then I’d definitely say so.” Ghost replied.

Price nodded with understanding. No sense in beating around the bush if it was that plainly clear. Without another word to Ghost, Price opened the front door and walked outside into the world. Darkness had painted the sky long ago, the night time hours were well upon the 141.

The air outside had a breeze to it. The weather was clear and the temperature was at least comfortable. He loved nights like this, but they meant nothing if you couldn’t enjoy them too. He stopped at the side of the tailgate, his eyes never leaving you. 

He noted your lowered head and slumped shoulders, the anxious swings of your feet and the blank stare at the ground beneath you. He had never seen you so defeated. 

“It’s awfully quiet out here,” Price remarked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “A beautiful night as well.” 

“Yeah.” You mumbled, staring at your feet that were barely swinging beneath you. 

Price knew you were hiding out. The embarrassment of facing your teammates and friends after failing to get the job done was tough on anybody. What was worse was trying to work through the disappointment in yourself.  

“These things happen.” Price said, wasting no time getting to the point. 

A rush of air whispered all around you. It felt like it was mocking you, taunting you for the day’s failure. It was all around you, consuming you in a way that was inescapable.

“Not to me they don’t.” 

Price sighed, watching you gaze off into the sky as if there was something worth watching floating around up there. He knew that you were discouraged, and he understood what that felt like. 

“Time wasn’t on our side. That’s the only reason that we failed today.” Price went on, taking it upon himself to take the open spot next to you.

He groaned as he hoisted himself up, sitting on the hard metal of the lowered tailgate.

“I blew it. I completely and utterly blew it.” You rambled, your voice thick with disappointment only in yourself. 

“What is all of this ‘I’ and ‘me’ shit?” He scoffed. “We all failed to get the job done. This doesn’t fall on you.”

“I was the one who was supposed to get the data transferred,” You argued. “I was the one who wasn’t quick enough.”

Price knew where your head was at. He had been there before, it wasn’t comfortable nor pleasant – but it was something that you just had to work through.

“The room was corrupted. No matter how quick you were, we would’ve lost the information. You’re lucky that we lost the data before any of us made it into the room.” Price pointed out, which truly was something that you hadn’t thought about. 

You didn’t have a response. You felt no need to try to argue. Price wouldn’t be able to change your mind.

“If you think you’re going to be perfect all the time and go your entire career without fucking up, then I’m here to tell you right now that you couldn’t be more wrong,” Price rumbled. “You did your best.”

“My best wasn’t good enough, Captain.” 

The emphasis on his title stung him. It was that subtle reminder that your relationship was still rather strictly professional.

Fuck. Just call me John!

“Sometimes that’s how it goes,” He returned. “You know that.”

It hadn’t been your fault. Deep down, underneath all the damaged pride, you knew that there wasn’t a thing differently that you could’ve done to avoid this outcome. None of you knew that the place was wired and that it was going to vanish right in front of you. 

But this was much harder than it should’ve been. Captain Price, the man that you admired and adored so much, had allowed himself to step aside to let you take the lead on this mission. In turn, he witnessed you fail firsthand as a leader.  

That hurt more than anything. 

The best of the best. 

Suddenly, your “best” wasn’t so great after all.

“If you don’t hear anything else I say tonight, at least hear this…” Price sighed, realizing that his words weren’t having any effect on you. “I’m proud of you.” 

This time a rush of heat surrounded and flooded you, but it wasn’t from the wind.

“You’re just saying that.” You grumbled. 

“I’m not. I’d never say something like that to you if I didn’t mean it.” Price “readjusted” the way that he was sitting. 

He was closer to you now, the outside of his thigh was touching yours in a way that sent electrical static through every vein in your body. His eyes were piercing yours the way that they always did when he was thinking about you. 

“I am proud of you. You’ve never let me down, and I’ve never seen you as anything less than perfect,” He said, and you were suddenly aware of how close his face was to yours. “I care about you.”

You didn’t panic. Breathless and speechless, yes – but in no way were you off put or stunned. This felt…right this time. The other times that the two of you had shared a moment like this (yes, including that one kiss), you had shied away from it. But this time it felt perfect, like right now was the moment that was really supposed to happen.

“John…” You whispered in a way that was more of a plea than anything.

He nearly fainted. His name from your mouth drove him wild, the sound practically touching his own lips. He had waited so long to hear it that it almost didn’t sound like anything. If you didn’t kiss him right now, he was sure he might actually just keel over and die. 

There was a moment of unwanted hesitation. This was the very last chance for you to back out. If you had any discomfort with this happening or if you had any question about how you felt about John Price, then this was your only window of opportunity to escape.  

“Don’t do this if you’re going to get spooked.” Price’s lips were millimeters from yours, almost close enough to where you could feel the smirk on his face.

But you didn’t take that opportunity.

“I won’t.” 

And you kissed him. It was just as tender as the first time and even more passionate. Price chuckled, his laugh muffled by the two of you nearly suffocating each other. The wait had been well worth it, and he felt like everything was falling into place. 

Price knew that this was the first of many. The first of many kisses, heartfelt chats, and special moments that he got to share with the most special woman in the world.

Just this once, you could go against a rule. It wouldn’t hurt you, and it surely would benefit you. If going against one of your standards meant that you could have John Price all to yourself? Then it was worth it. 

Besides, every rule is meant to be broken.

#john price #john price x reader #john price x fem! reader #john price x female reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #john price fluff #john price oneshot #john price imagine #john price imagines #john price fanfiction #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x fem! reader #captain price x female reader #captain price x you #captain price x y/n #captain price fluff #captain price oneshot #captain price imagine #captain price imagines #captain price fanfiction #john price mw2 #mwii #modern warefare 2 #mw2 #mw2 fanfiction #mw2 fanfic #ghostandsoap

[courtingchaos]

A/N: This is a dumb little thing I wrote because I’m trying to claw my way back into writing. I’ve also been having a pretty rough go of it mentally and watching old Loony Toons is actually like, really fun. So just take this.

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

No warnings, it’s just fluff, however:

18+ No Minors

In the top corner of a paystub:

Edward E. Munson.

“Edward E. Munson.” You repeat it under your breath the way Mel Blanc would and it makes you giggle.

Edward E. Munson, genius.

The man in question appears and leans on your desk, the elevated portion keeping him above your head.

“What are you teeheeing about?”

“Nothing.” You look at him quickly and glance down the same, his brown eyes brimming with mirth. “Just…the cartoons.” You point over his shoulder and he turns, his locks spilling down to hang over your line of sticky notes on the desks ledge. He watches for a moment while the Road Runner gets through the mural and when Mr. Coyote slams face first into it, Eddie snorts and tilts his head back towards you.

“I wouldn’t let that bird go, either.” He says out of the corner of his mouth and you giggle again. That earns you a smile from him, one of his big ones, all teeth and dimples. “See, what I’d do is create a screw up that he’d run into and then have the real trap at the end of that.”

IQ 207, super genius.

“I’m sure you could catch the Road Runner Ed, no problem.” You give him your own small smile and look back down at the time cards for the shop. His government name peaks out at you from under the stack of paystubs you were filing and you have to suppress another giggle. It wasn’t that funny, but having seen him move around the shop like a cartoon on occasion gave it some precedence.

“Oh yeah I’d catch him.” He leans back on the ledge, propped on one elbow to keep watching the episode. “Make a Sunday dinner out of him too.”

“Hey Eddie?”

“Hey whattie?” He answers from under the car he’s working on, peering up through the engine block to see you leaning over it with a smile.

“I’m taking lunch orders.” You wiggle the pencil and notepad so he can see the list. “I’m going to the diner, what do you want?”

He grins, only the briefest of glances at the way your chest presses up against the body of the car, and keeps screwing the nuts back in place nonchalantly. “I don’t know, do the fries come with the shake?” He peers up through the frame to see you frown and start to unfold the paper menu before you pause.

“Eddie?”

“What?” He asks innocently. From under the bumper he can see your toe tapping and he reaches his boot over to wiggle it against your ankle.

“For you, it’s an up charge.”

“Oh just for me?”

“Yeah it says right here ‘in the instance that one Eddie E. Munson orders a shake with fries and is making an innuendo, it’s an up charge of three dollars’.” You ‘read’ out loud and run your finger along pretend words. He laughs again and misses your grin when you turn to leave, tripping on his outstretched leg and shouting at him to keep his limbs secured.

He doesn’t get to his food until almost closing but he finds his fries bagged up in the microwave, ‘Eddie E. Coyote’ written in your hand across the folded over top. When he opens the fridge he doesn’t expect to see the styrofoam cup with the crudely drawn outline of a curvy lady and a strawberry shake contained within. His fingers stain the white cup but he keeps looking down at your little drawing while he picks up his station and waits for Wayne to finish his paperwork.

It’s a Friday morning before anyone else should be in, sun barely over the horizon, your time to get paperwork finished that the techs have conveniently forgotten throughout the week. You’re still sleepy, a little unaware, so you don’t realize the coffee pot already has coffee in it until you pick it up intending on filling it with water. You stare out of the big window in the office that opens into the shop and finally notice one of the bays open. A quick look at the clock on the wall and a snap of your wrist to check your watch and they’re both right, 6:30 AM. The whir of a pneumatic drill pulls you out into the shop, coffee pot still in hand.

“Hello?” You know it’s gotta be one of the guys but you still freeze in place when you catch movement behind an open hood, right until Eddie’s head pops up.

“There you are!” He yells over the hiss of the air compressor. “I was wondering when you showed up.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Like an hour, had some stuff to catch up on.” He rounds the front of the car with one hand tucked behind his back and the other held out in front, a clutch of papers in his fist. “I figured I could not be a piece of shit for once.”

You can see the invoice numbers along the top of one paper and your gaze goes soft. “Oh Eddie, you’re not-“

“Don’t excuse me, I’m bad with homework. Lifelong issue.” He shakes his fist for you to take the stack and when you both head back into the office he takes the coffee pot from you to pour your cup you’d left out. He points at your desk chair and sets your mug down next to your purse. “Sit.”

“This is just a present because I thought you’d like it.” He rolls his wrist out from behind himself, a little cylinder of tissue paper that he hands you.

“You got me a present?” You feel silly even saying it because why would Eddie do that? You’re just the front desk girl Wayne took on when he couldn’t handle his own paperwork anymore. The errand runner, the paperwork finisher, the sometimes maid when no one else remembered how to use a trash can.

“Not just any present.” Eddie shakes a finger at you admonishingly before he folds his arms over his chest and leans on the doorframe. “I got Wayne to part with a cup. That’s like…worse than battlefield surgery.” He laughs and gives you one of those big smiles that makes you feel shy. “In fact, I think he would have rather had his arm sawed off in the mud.”

You tuck your face down so you can maybe hide your stupid little smile, especially when you peel the tissue paper away to reveal a short glass with a cartoon coyote on it.

“Oh my god, I used to have one of these when I was a kid!” Your shocked laughter rings in the empty office and Eddie doubles down on his smile.

“See? Knew you’d like it more than him.”

He watches you tuck it up under the ledge next to the typewriter and finally leaves you alone to do your work. When Wayne comes in at 8 Eddie watches him as he leans in and you hold up your cup, big smile plastered on your face. He can hear Wayne laying it on thick but when he finally comes out in the shop he waves Eddie off when all he gets is a big grin.

“Well Ed, told you she’d like it.”

A terrible afternoon through and through. Half the shop lost power and three Semi’s sit unfinished while a very angry manager finally stomps out of the front door.

“Prick.” Eddie curses behind you while you unclench. You handled him fine, but having a grown man yell down at you for 30 straight minutes left you feeling anxious. “You okay?” Eddie lays his hand on your shoulder, careful to wipe his fingers off on his shop rag before brushing them over your sweater.

“Oh I’m fine, I just hope he knows he can go fuck himself tonight.” You shuffle the guys folder around and shove some receipts in there while Eddie laughs. “Come in here and yell at me like I’m the fucking power company.” You huff and yank open a middle drawer on the tall filing cabinet next to you, tossing the folder into the back.

“You wanna go out for a smoke?” Eddie holds up his pack and jerks his head towards the back door. When you don’t immediately get up he wiggles his eyebrows at you and pulls on your sleeve. “C’mooonnn.” He whines and you relent, turning the sign over on the front door for the lunch hours.

Out back is a row of crates and a bench seat taken out of an old Ford and Eddie presents the cracked leather to you like a throne. “Madam.” He flourishes and after you drop down onto it he hands you a cigarette, lighter already lit when the filter hits your lips.

“That guy was an ass.”

“Yeah well he can take it up with the county.” You make a vague jerk off motion and lay your head back against the wall.

“I wish acme stuff was real.” Eddie says, kicking a stray bolt around between his feet. “Put dynamite in his glovebox so he opens it and gets that banana peel face after.”

“Well you’re a loony toon, I’m sure you can figure that out.”

“Still haven’t caught that Road Runner yet.” He looks up from under his fringe and you don’t catch him staring. “Probably should do that first before I move on to explosives.”

Eddie is ready to call it quits and walk out on this job. Wayne is still hashing it out with the Semi guy, something about how he doesn’t owe the shop for anything, and Eddie is hanging around just in case. This guy keeps pointing fingers closer and closer to Wayne’s face and half the shop is just watching and waiting while Wayne remains calm as ever. Eddie knows you’re watching from the front desk, saw you overfill your mug when you got too caught up staring at this guy going purple. He wants to laugh but he knows that wouldn’t end well so he hides his mouth behind his fist and waits for this to blow over.

The yelling has quieted down but the snide remarks remain and Eddie catches your eye, your eyebrows raised high in question. He’s about to come in and tell you but he thinks of something funnier and grabs an old invoice to scribble on the back of it. He holds it up out of sight of the shop, just below his shoulders and you squint and laugh in silence behind the glass.

‘How about ending this cartoon before I hit?’

He grins at you while you turn away and hold up a finger for him to wait. He’s glued to the way your lip tucks into your teeth when you concentrate, your own scribbling happening before you whip the sign up against the window, a dull thud that only he seems to hear.

‘Road runners can’t read.’

He feels a slight drop in his stomach when you shrug dramatically, your lips forming around what he knows is a quiet ‘meep meep’.

Normally Eddie is in the shop Monday through Friday but it’s Wednesday and you’ve seen neither hide nor hair. Everyone’s been busy and you haven’t felt like interrupting Wayne and his welding so you sit alone in the office during your lunch, cartoons playing softly in the background. The book you’ve been trying to slog through is making you sleepy but the bell ringing on the front door snaps your head up. You could have sworn you’d locked it like normal. “Hey, sorry we’ll be-“

Eddie dangles his store key from his middle finger and smiles at you. “Is Wayne in?” He sounds breathless, asks you that even though he’s already bounding into the shop and yelling for his Uncle. Funnily enough you couldn’t have answered him anyways, struck dumb by his new attire.

You’ve only ever seen him in his coveralls and his stained undershirts but the Eddie that just breezed past you is a new creature. Hair down and washed, fluffy waves bouncing behind him where you can see him jogging across the shop floor. His wallet chain clinks against tight light wash jeans that show off most of his thighs, dark ink showing through the white threads keeping the shredded pant legs together. You’re afraid if anyone looks at you they’ll know you’re staring dead at the slice of his midriff shown off under his cropped black tee, but you can’t peel your eyes away. He’s tanner than you expected and when he makes a big gesture over his head it pulls that shirt up and you make a small sound to yourself and the four walls. His shoulders roll under his laughter and you catch the glint of the overhead lights on his rings. He’s in a brand new costume and you’re feeling insane watching him through the thick glass like you were ogling a shark at the aquarium.

You stare until he starts to turn back towards the office, gaze snapping down the worlds most boring book. His boots fall heavy and that chain clinks into the metal door when he pushes it open with his hip. You expect him to dip right back out to the parking lot but his movement has come to halt beside you and you slide your eyes over to see the bottom half of him, hands on his hips like he’s waiting for you to look. You gather whatever will you have left and take a deep breath before putting on your brave face.

“Don’t you look nice.”

“Oh you think so?” He tilts his head and does a half turn so you get a good side view.

“Mhm.”

“I’ve got a show tonight.”

You forgot he was in a band and shake your head. “I forgot about that. Is it in Indy?”

He nods and his smile lights up the room when he talks about the stage they’ve got. It’s a real venue not just a bar and they’re openers for another local band but his drummer has been talking to other guys and he thinks they’ve sold at least 150 tickets and he’s just nervous now because they’ve never played for a crowd bigger than 50.

You’re listening but you’re also watching this chain dangle from his shirt more and more until a red pick falls out and hangs over the edge of your desk.

“Oh you guys are gonna do fine.” You reach over and pat his forearm, a gentle touch that you play again over in your mind when you notice how soft his skin is. “Seriously! I’m sad I’m missing it.” You pout a little to get your point across and Eddie’s face goes through a series of scrunches before he finally speaks.

“I didn’t even think about asking if you’d be into that.”

“That’s okay! Don’t feel like you have to invite me.” Your neck is hot from embarrassment and you hope he doesn’t think you’re trying to invite yourself along.

“No it’s not-“ He glances at the clock on the wall and sighs. “I’d lo-it’d be cool if you came, but I just need to remember to tell you when.” He says lamely. You watch him seem to struggle with leaving so you give him a break and make a shooing motion towards the door.

“Go catch that road runner, genius.”

For the next two weeks Eddie talks about this show. He tells everyone everything but you specifically some stories over and over. He talks about the actual real photographer that was there, and he talks about the venue and he talks about the girls.

“I’ve never seen so many women going crazy for a man from Indianapolis.” He shakes his head, a blank look on his face while you yet again stare holes through the papers in front of you. There’s no reason to be jealous you remind yourself, because there’s nothing there. Barely a friendship built off of shared chuckling at cartoons most days, but he brings up these bleached blondes and their corsets and you sigh at your small town outfits.

“I mean, it’s the attention really. That’s what’s exciting.” He says quietly over his sandwich, a sandwich that you made for him in a weaker early morning moment.

“You do have a pretty big personality.”

He winces a little and waves his food at you. “You remember how it was in high school. I didn’t get a lot of that attention.”

“I barely remember you, that’s when you got sick right? When we had that big earthquake.” You know it was his third time but then he’d been missing for almost two months and then suddenly was a graduate. He stills for a moment before he flashes you a smile.

“Yeah I forget about that sometimes.”

There’s quiet between you two while you mark in the ledger and Eddie seems to stare at the side of your head for too long. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” His half finished sandwich stays forgotten clasped between his hands. “Like, about those girls. At the concert.”

You don’t look at him when you frown deeply and shake your head at the work you’re so intent on. So concentrated on that you’ve forgotten how to add ten and two together while the jealousy slithers in. “I don’t think anything about it Ed.” The TV in the lobby shows you coyote hovering in the air and then plummeting off a cliff for miles and you can definitely relate to that right at this moment.

“No, I mean I don’t want you to think-“

“Eddie, it’s fine.” You do look up then, wide eyes imploring him to shut the fuck up. “One night stands aren’t gonna ruin my opinion of you, I promise.”

“Did you ask?” Wayne doesn’t even look up from his coffee when he senses Eddie in the doorway.

“No.” Eddie sighs and droops like a wilting lily against the door handle. “I got my foot caught in my mouth, as usual.”

“Mm.” Wayne takes an obnoxiously loud sip and Eddie narrows his eyes at him. “I suggest you fix that then, I can’t take much more of your cartoon jokes. It’s too cute.” He shakes his head like he’s actually disgusted but Eddie knows, Eddie’s heard it all since the concert. Had heard about you timidly asking about his band and then when Wayne mentioned the board games it’d turned into a three hour conversation that his Uncle had regaled him with.

“She’s probably feeling a little hurt, son. You’ve talked about the groupies a lot.”

“I know! I keep trying to not bring them up but they were everywhere.”

Wayne rolls his eyes. “Oh woe is you.” He lets Eddie rot around his bench until he actually needs to get some work done and he shoos Eddie off to his own project.

Most of the shop is empty by 7 but you can still see Wayne’s lights on at his workstation so you know Eddie is probably still floating around. You’d been kind of avoiding him since lunch, still not ready to talk about whatever it was he was trying to talk to you about. You’ve got everything filed and piled for the morning when you hear a soft tap on the window into the shop, Eddie’s forehead pressed to the glass.

“It’s unlocked.” You say loudly, gesturing at the door. He just shakes his head and holds up a piece of paper he’s written on in grease pen.

‘Magnus Stultus’ with an arrow drawn to point at himself. He watches your face scrunch in confusion and he turns the paper to scribble again quickly ‘Big Idiot’.

Edward E. Munson, certified genius.

You think about having this whole conversation in signs is a fun idea in theory, but you open the door slowly anyways and lean your head around to look at him. “Big idiot?”

“Yeah. Huge.” He rolls his forehead so he can see you clearly. “I was trying to ask you something earlier and I didn’t.”

You think about lunch and try to remember any questions asked of you and all you can see is the glaring green neon of your jealousy. “Yeah? What do you need?”

He breathes deeply against the glass and leaves a big patch of fog before finally lifting his head. “I was trying to say I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about them because I wasn’t interested. I was trying to say I’d wished you’d have been able to be there.”

“Oh.” That definitely sounded better with the context and you’d love to go and see him play, if nothing else to see him in his crop top again.

He can tell you haven’t realized yet and he finally just comes out and says it. “I’d like to ask you if you’d like to go to the next show. With me…together.”

“Oh.” You smile behind the thumb nail you’re chewing on. Everything shifts again for you and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you.

“If you’re laughing at me, I understand, but could I at least walk away first if that’s the case.”

“I’m not laughing at you!” You finally walk over to him so you can lightly tap his shoulder with a mock punch. “I’d love to.”

“We’ve got another show next week but it’s on Friday.”

“Oh now that’s when I get a lot of work done so I’ll have to ask my boss first.”

From across the shop Wayne yells ‘yes!’ at you before you finish your sentence and Eddie looks like he’s turning into a strawberry.

“So do I also need to wear a crop top or is that just a you specific thing?” You try to be cute to break the tension and give Eddie a smirk but the exaggerated up and down he gives you makes you feel shy again.

“Did you like that outfit?” He gives you a little satisfied grin. You roll your eyes at him and nod slightly, another push at his shoulder when he clicks his tongue and gives you a terrible wink.

“I’ll see what I can dig out for you.”

“Oh you do that.”

#Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x Fem Reader #My Work #My Fic

[hey-august]

Ok ok another request for your 250 prompts...

#1 Touch with #3 "It's nice." and #10 "I'm full of surprises." With the chubby DadBod Buggy you wrote about that is just absolutely wonderful... 👀 Could be spicy or not but I revisited that earlier and just hnnngh chubby DadBod Buggyyyy 🧡 Thank you!

-rorywritesjunk

Yusssssss dadbody Buggy back again!!!!! Thank you for this, @rorywritesjunk!! 🩷 I definitely meant to sprinkle more spice in here, but got caught up in the fluff and incorporating some one bed trope vibes. This did give me a great idea for a separate but related spicy story though 👀

Prompts: Touch, "It's nice." "I’m full of surprises." Teaser: "Buggy chuckled as he settled down, fighting his insecurities with self-deprecation." Warnings: SFW. Not an established relationship. Sorta one bed trope - is it one bed trope if it's partially by choice? Word count: ~1.8k

Check out my 250 Follower Prompt Event and see fulfilled prompts here.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Time moved at a pace only it understood. Days flew by while weeks dragged. Moments were drawn out with each new experience you had on the pirate ship until a month passed. It took you nearly four days to develop sea legs, eight days to be assigned a room of your own, and two weeks for you to stop getting lost on the ship. But you felt at home from the first step onboard. For the first time in your life, you were comfortable and felt like you belonged.

Lost in your own thoughts, pieces of your captain’s explanation of your afternoon duties slipped away before you could retain them. You gave an apologetic smile when he caught on. Buggy had been gripping his left forearm to half-heartedly massage the muscles while he spoke. Even as he flexed his hand, the tenderness carried through and showed on his face.

“Sorry, I was distracted. You should do it here, like this,” you said while grabbing the pirate’s gloved hand and flipping it so the palm side was up. 

Hooking his thumb and pinky between both of your pinky fingers, you carefully flexed his hand open and pressed into the taut muscles with your thumbs. His gloves made it difficult to drag the pressure along his palm, so you settled for digging into the meat and rubbing small circles.

You didn’t realize how overly familiar the gesture was until the silence became overbearing. The chatty clown had fallen quiet from shock and relief.

“Oh, sorry. That was too much,” you choked out, dropping his hand in mortification “Sometimes I’d get cramps from how much I wrote and I know how frustrating that can feel…” The explanation came out in an explosive babble.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Buggy rushed to stop your monologue, feeling second-hand embarrassment. At least, that’s what he assumed the heat in his body was from. “It’s no big deal…it actually felt good. Now if you know how to deal with tight shoulders, let me know,” he chuckled.

You nodded, afraid to open your mouth again. For the rest of Buggy’s repeat rundown, you stayed quiet and paid attention to each directive. As the captain turned to leave, the words you were struggling to swallow burst out.

“I can help with your shoulders. L-later, if you want…” You watched his back as he nodded, blue hair swinging from his hat, and left you to drown in your awkward proposal.

Curiosity followed Buggy through the rest of the day. Tugging on his attention, tripping his feet, and stealing thoughts out of his mind. As much as he tried to ignore the presence, it wouldn’t leave. He felt it in the hand you touched.

The pirate liked having you on the ship. He could see the changes you went through as you became accustomed to life with the crew. You became brighter and smiled more. Buggy often heard others talk about how helpful you are, that you often volunteer when someone needs help and you give encouragement while they practice skits and skills. It shouldn’t be a surprise that you were offering to help the captain, as well.

He nearly waited too long before knocking on your door. A part of him hoped that hours of overthinking would take away the opportunity to make a decision, but his feet brought him to your quarters before that could happen. The door quickly swung open, revealing your small but cozy room. You welcomed Buggy inside as he chittered about his sore muscles, hoping he could distract you from the blush that was certainly peeking through his face paint. Although he removed his captain’s coat and hat at the end of the day, he kept on the clown make-up.

You placed a pillow on the floor next to the bed and gestured for Buggy to sit down. He tilted his head and made a face before tossing the pillow back onto the bed and plopping to the ground, his back towards the bed.

“It’s just a floor, it’s not that bad,” he mumbled as you sat behind him and nestled your legs on either side of his torso.

“I just wanted you to be comfortable.” You spoke slowly, keeping each word even, unlike the beating in your chest. This was much different than grabbing the pirate’s hand earlier. He was in your room and between your legs. As fast as the thought popped up, you buried it in a dark corner in your mind.

You started by rubbing the base of Buggy’s head, digging your thumbs into the muscles beneath his skull and easing his tension and nerves. His head tilted forwards with a loud sigh and you moved the attention down his neck, following the curves of his body.

“...s’nice…yursonice…” He said something that sounded like words, but you couldn’t hear clearly. Pinching down a muscle that traveled from his neck to his shoulder, you asked what he said. 

Buggy took a deep sigh before replying. “I said ‘yo- it’s nice.’ This is nice.” Words that fit in his mouth a moment ago didn’t feel correct now. Whatever you heard seemed to be satisfying enough since you didn’t respond and you continued tending to his aches.

Although his body rocked gently with each squeeze of pressure, the knots littering his body held fast. The thick fabric of his top prevented you from pulling along his muscles and the woven material didn’t have enough give for you to slip your hands underneath. You massaged as long as you could before you could feel your fingers objecting to the rough fabric.

“Captain…” Your soft voice eased him out of the trance and he hummed in response. “I can’t get to some of the tight areas. If you want- if you’d be more comfortable, you could take off your shirt and lay down.” Your hands kept moving to keep the awkwardness from settling into place.

Buggy stayed silent. His comfort would be debatable if he took off any more clothing. The relaxation you worked into him only extended so far and other areas needed the same attention, but he was afraid of your attention being drawn somewhere else. Besides his nose, there are other parts of his body the pirate didn’t love - one of which was his soft stomach. So many pirates - and pirate captains - parade around in open shirts or entirely shirtless, showing off muscles bestowed by a life at sea. A physique the clown captain didn’t share.

As he worked through the thoughts, Buggy asked a question to fill the silence. “How do you know how to do this?”

“I’m full of-”

“-full of surprises. Fuck off,” Buggy cut you off, laughing that he walked right into that response. It had been repeated often enough that it should be an expectation in any conversation you two have.

“I’ll actually tell you, if you get comfortable.” You offered to trade your vulnerability for his.

Buggy held onto the fact that you never mentioned his nose like a lifeline and jumped in. Standing up, he kept his back facing you. He undid the wide band of belts around his waist, wincing as his stomach relaxed in the open space, and pulled off his shirt. Meanwhile, you straightened up the blankets on your bed and fluffed up the pillow.

You turned around to a half-dressed pirate standing in your room. Nerves and unease was creeping back into his body, just as they filled yours, so you rushed to have him lay face down.

“Hah, don’t want to look at this sorry sight anymore?” Buggy chuckled as he settled down, fighting his insecurities with self-deprecation.

“No, I think you look really good,” you blurted out. Hands flew to cover your mouth far too late to stop the confession. 

Buggy looked at you with astonishment, unsure if you were fucking with him. Your wide eyes and red ears were another betraying confession.

“Thanks,” he muttered bashfully before turning away. The bed smelt like you. The pillow he had pressed against his chest smelt like you. He couldn’t relax, especially when the bed tilted as you kneeled next to him. But when your warm hands began running along his muscles, he melted into everything that was you.

“I learned how to do this because of drawing. I wanted to draw people, so I started by studying anatomy. Trapezius…” You applied pressure starting at his neck and dragged it down. 

“...scapula…” The movement followed the curve of his shoulder blade, finding bundles of tension along the way. A stifled groan escaped as you worked on the knots, breaking them apart and soothing the surrounding sinew. 

“E…spine something,” you questioned while your fingers danced on either side of his spine. “It was a while ago and didn’t help with my drawings, but I guess it was good for something.”

Buggy could hardly acknowledge what you were saying. It felt like his entire being was being handled, pinched, and rolled in a blissful way. He was no longer thinking about how uneasy he felt being partially undressed in front of you. The anxiety was soothed away as he loosened up. His head was full of your smell, his body covered in how you feel, and your voice was lulling him further and further away.

A few quiet minutes passed before a small sound broke your concentration. A sleepy snore. You froze, your hold pausing on his hips while massaging his lower back. A louder snort came out and you bit your lip to suppress a laugh. 

Laying an open hand on the middle of the captain’s back, you gently rocked his body. No response. You called his name. Nothing. You poked him. Still nothing. Grabbing Buggy’s shoulder, you shook a little harder. This time, you did get a response. 

“Not yet, still tired,” grumbled the pirate before rolling on his side. He was still facing away from you and clinging to your pillow.

You tried a few more times to wake Buggy up, explaining that it’s probably time for bed. He should go back to his room. It’s late. Why is he such a heavy sleeper? How can he sleep when you’re shaking him this hard? Seriously, he needs to wake up. None of it worked. You even tried to pull your pillow away, but he only hugged it tighter. There was no way you’d be able to get the blanket from under him either, so any chance of sleeping on the floor was impossible.

Between Buggy’s own exhaustion and the late hour, sleep began to wrap its warmth around you. Reluctant to find another reasonably comfortable place to rest for the night that didn’t involve waking someone else up and explaining why the captain was sleeping in your bed, you resigned yourself to making the best out of this situation. 

At least Buggy was no longer laying in the middle of your small bed. You curled up behind him and pressed your back against his. Your tiredness wavered at the touch, hesitant to fully descend when your heart was beating so fast. Listening to his deep breaths, you began to match your breathing and let sleep carry you away. There would be time in the morning to explain what happened. For now, you wanted to enjoy the moment.

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown #buggy x you #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #hey-august 250 follower event

[navybrat817]

First Date

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: Steve has the best first date thanks to you. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Fluffy fluff, light pining, first date, first kiss, mentions of the holidays, Steve Rogers (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Sixth day of my Naughty & Nice Nonsense belongs to Steve Rogers. Requested by the incredible @buckyownsmylife. You deserve only good things! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

If there was one thing Steve still wasn’t used to after the serum, it was that women wanted to date him. It was strange even after he was taken out of the ice that people actively sought out his company when they used to overlook him. Bucky no longer had to convince his dates to bring along another girl for him. And Natasha, of course, did her best to set him up with a few different women.

He relented when he realized she wasn’t going to stop.

She gave up when the third girl she set him up with didn’t work out.

“What was wrong with this one?” she asked.

“Nothing was wrong with her,” Steve told her truthfully. “She was just wrong for me.”

He wondered if he was doomed to be alone.

Until you asked him out.

A breathtaking new agent with a loving smile who could easily put men twice your size on their backs. He was inexplicably drawn to you and wouldn't be breaking any bylaws by dating you. He planned to ask you out, but you beat him to the punch one day after sparring.

"Would you want to grab dinner with me Saturday?"

"A date?" he asked as you nodded.

"Yeah, a date," you said with a hopeful smile.

It felt good to have you smile at him that way.

"I'd love to," he smiled back.

“Great! I’ll pick you up at six o'clock. Dress warm, okay?”

“Okay,” he smiled more, wondering what you had in mind.

He got his answer when you showed up at his apartment right on time.

“Oh, wow,” you whispered when he opened the door. He heard your heart rate speed up as you gazed at him. You told him to dress warm, but he still wanted to look his best. “Sorry. I’m staring.”

“It’s okay,” Steve chuckled. You told him to dress warm, but he still wanted to look his best. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m staring, too.”

You looked at your feet with a small smile before you lifted your head again. “I don’t mind.”

The breathy tone in your voice had his heart racing, too. “We should probably get going, otherwise I’ll just stare at you all night,” he teased.

The other dates he had been on had initial awkwardness in the beginning, but he felt none of that when he held out his hand for you. Even through the fabric, he felt electricity crackle between the two of you. Like a natural fit.

“Now, I should warn you,” you began as he led you out of the apartment building. “I kind of deviated away a bit from the normal first date dinner."

“I’m sure whatever you have set up is going to be amazing,” he smiled, giving your hand a small squeeze.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I wanted to make it something to remember.”

“If I were a better gentleman, I would’ve been the one to plan this.”

“You think I’d make you plan your first date since you’ve been unfrozen?” you asked incredulously as you began to walk again. “Never.”

Steve opened his mouth and closed it just as quickly as you pulled him along the sidewalk. He didn’t have the heart to tell you this wasn’t his first date. Not when you looked so happy.

“Here it is!” you grinned.

A large horse and carriage stood by the curb with a coachman who tipped his hat. The red plush bench had a blanket for extra warmth and Steve noticed a small table with two drinks and a large box across from where they’d sit. He could smell the pizza from where he stood.

It was from his favorite restaurant.

“I thought we could have pizza and drinks while we looked at lights around the city. And there’s a bakery stop along the way so we can have dessert,” you explained as you approached the carriage. “I figured this would give us a chance to talk and see how beautiful our home looks when we’re not fighting to keep it safe.”

Steve didn’t get in right away as his eyes met yours, memorizing how beautiful you looked under the city lights. You held your breath as he stepped closer. He knew you put a lot of thought into this evening. That alone made him feel special.

"But if you hate it, I can-"

“This is incredible,” he said as you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Really? Because your silence made me a little nervous,” you giggled.

Steve held up a hand to stop the coachman from helping you in, wanting to do it himself. “I'm sorry. I’m told I can be a bit stoic,” he joked, settling into the carriage beside you once you got comfortable.

“Didn’t I tell you? This is a stoic free carriage,” you teased.

"If anyone can make me smile, it's you."

He hoped that didn't sound cheesy.

"I like making you smile," you said as the carriage began to move.

The two of you traded stories as you ate and rode through the city. The lights brought warmth to the night sky, but he found himself staring at you more than the scenery. By the time you finished eating the pizza and stopped for warm, freshly baked cookies, he had his arm around you and the blanket over both of your legs.

"So, is this how you pictured your first date?"

"No, I didn't. This is even better," he smiled, brushing a bit of chocolate from the corner of your mouth away with his thumb.

"It is?" you asked, your voice soft as he brought his thumb to his mouth.

"It is," he said, unaware of how enticing he looked as he licked it clean. He bet you tasted just as sweet. "I wish Natasha had set you up with me first."

The longing in your eyes shifted to confusion. "First? What do you mean?" you asked before you nodded in understanding. "I'm not your first date, am I?"

Steve briefly closed his eyes. Shit. He didn't mean to say that. He was a terrible liar though, so he knew he couldn't come up with an excuse.

"No," he said.

"I'm so sorry," you said, picking a bit at the blanket and avoiding his gaze. "That was a really dumb assumption on my part."

"It wasn't dumb," he promised. "I don't exactly go around broadcasting my personal life."

That happened to him enough while he was under the ice and you wouldn't have known.

"It was dumb, but thank you."

He didn't want you to feel bad or embarrassed. "Look at me, please."

It took a moment, but you slowly turned your head toward him. He wanted to kiss the uncertain expression off your face. Leaning in, that's exactly what he did. The brush of his lips against yours was soft and full of promise.

Perfect.

"This is the best date I've ever had," he whispered.

"Our date isn't over yet," you smiled when he leaned in for another kiss.

With your lips against his, he imagined what it would have been like had he taken you out in the 40's. Maybe the two of you would have gone dancing. Any excuse to hold you close like this.

It would be the perfect second date.

Steve deserves something sweet. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #navy's naughty & nice nonsense #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you #chris evans

[syringesyrup]

6/17 Phantom & Swiss?

i got confused but i DID MY BEST!

nsfw below cut

The closet isn’t the most comfortable place for them to do this, in Phantom’s opinion. His face is pressed into the wall, and he’s knocked over two bottles of cleaner already. He feels a bit ashamed, doing something so nasty in a closet full of cleaning supplies.

“Hey look,” Swiss had said as he closed the door on them. “they prepped just for us.”

That was then. This is now.

Now being Phantom having to stuff his tie into his own mouth and conjure up every ounce of self control he has in this mortal body to make himself stay quiet.

Swiss yanks at his horn, pulling Phantom back into a rougher thrust. It makes the smaller ghoul’s eyes water and he chokes on the cloth in his mouth, groaning quietly as he stares back and up at Swiss.

Swiss grins down at him. It’s bright and white despite the darkness of the small space and it only makes the hot bubbling feeling in Phantom’s gut boil and threaten to spill over.

Swiss gives him another thrust, bordering on too much, and Phantom sobs into the cloth. It’s beyond soaked at this point and not doing the job it was supposed to do. Phantom whimpers, his ears drooping as his eyes start to roll back.

“Shh.” Swiss snakes a hand up and places it over his own lips. There’s a golden glow in his eyes that dances with a blood red. Just another thing that makes Phantom’s cock leak and drip onto the floor. He’s going to have to clean that up. There’s a lot he's going to have to clean up in here.

“You want ‘em to hear?” Swiss tilts his head down at him, putting on an innocent face as he adjusts his grip on Phantom’s thin black horn and gathers some of his hair with it. He tugs again, making Phantom’s boots slide against the floor as he kicks up at the sensation. He moans again, rocking himself back against Swiss’ hips.

“Ohh.” Swiss coos with that same sinister grin. “I bet you’d like that though, wouldn’t you?”

The shame hits Phantom before he can even register what Swiss has said to him. Yes. He wants to say. I’d love it.

He’d be honored to let everyone hear how good he was getting it from Swiss.

“Bet you’d love if someone just yanked that door open right when you cum, huh?” Swiss laughs as he leans down, pressing his chest to Phantom’s back and sliding a hand under him. He slides his hand over Phantom’s cock, slicking it up with his own pre as he begins to jerk him in earnest.

Phantom kicks again, making a strangled noise against the cloth between his teeth as Swiss grinds into him. Swiss breathes in, bathing in the sweet scent Phantom releases as Swiss’ hand slides over him in rough strides.

Phantom’s eyes roll back again. He’s so close he can fucking taste it. He swears he can taste Swiss too, deep in his throat despite the fact that Swiss’ dick has been nowhere near his mouth during this.

What a shame.

“Oh, who could it be?” Swiss hums. “Eeny, meeny, miny-“ Swiss sing songs before he pulls Phantom’s tie from his mouth, releasing the smaller ghoul from the prison he put himself in.

“Rain.” Phantom moans, long and drawn out like the water ghoul is the one fucking him.

“Ah.” Swiss smiles. “You’re lucky he isn’t here. He’d make a mess of you, lovebug.”

Swiss’ ear flicks as he snakes a hand around Phantom’s throat, squeezing ever so slightly. Phantom gasps, reaching up to grab at Swiss’ arm.

“Or…” Swiss grins against his ear and Phantom is so close. Too close.

“We could…” And Phantom is right there. His thighs shake and a broken little whimper falls from his lips, coming out shaky as Swiss squeezes his throat.

“Let him watch?” Swiss breathes, licking into Phantom’s ear as he gives him a rather hard thrust that slaps against Phantom’s ass. The smaller ghoul reels back, arching against Swiss as he comes hotly into the multi ghoul’s palm with a wrecked cry.

He comes down slowly, not even realizing that Swiss came with him. He lets the multi ghoul clean him up, peppering him with kisses and praises. Phantom sighs, falling into his arms with a low and fucked out groan. Swiss chuckles, wrapping his arms around the smaller ghoul and kissing his forehead again.

Swiss’ phone goes off. He groans, unwrapping his arm from Phantom as he fishes his phone from his pocket and peers down at it. The brightness makes him squint in the surrounding darkness before he brings the phone to his ear with a raised brow.

“Yellow?” Swiss says into it, making Phantom smile.

“You know I can hear you two, right?” A voice cuts through. “My room is right under that closet.”

Phantom and Swiss stare at each other.

“Heyyy Rainy.” Swiss smiles nervously. Phantom swallows hard, a bead of sweat already forming at his temple. He’s in for a long night.

#my art #ghost bc #the band ghost #swiss ghoul #swiss army ghoul #multi ghoul #phantom ghoul #quintessence ghoul #hello phantomswiss nation

[multifandomthoughts]

Requested by @swampstew

Warnings: swearing, small mention of blood and death

She was everything to him, but he didn’t know it until now.

Kid first sees her by accident; he was preparing to reload the ship with cargo that he may need for the sail to the next island. Upon placing some fresh fruit into his shopping bag, he hears a shout, and looks over. A crowd had gathered, and there were shocked murmurs between the patrons.

A scuffle had erupted between a young woman and what looked like a low level pirate. In the woman’s hand was a small bag of food, in the other hand, a knife. Within a blink of an eye, the scuffle was over, and the woman was gone. The only remnants showing that she was there was a small streak of blood, drawn from her enemy.

Kid was intrigued; the woman must’ve been a thief, or a spy of some sort. No ordinary citizen would’ve picked a fight with what seemed to be a stranger. Shrugging it off, he grumbled and continued grabbing supplies for his voyage.

Later that day, while loading the cargo onto the ship, Kid can’t help but feel that something is off. Plucking one of the boxes off the ground, he notices it feels heavier than the others. Kid made sure that each box was evenly packed so some of his less physically strong members can lift them. There has to be something or someone inside this box. Marking it, he decides to check it out later.

Once all of the boxes have been loaded on into the hold, and they’ve set sail, Kid decides to either confirm or deny his suspicions. Tiptoeing quietly down the cargo hold stairs, he circles around the marked box. With a quiet grunt, he rips off the top of the receptacle and peers inside.

“What the fuck.”

Inside the box, was a woman. To be specific, the one Kid had seen at the marketplace earlier. “Did you really think I’d be that stupid to let you run a sneak attack on us?” With a grunt, he grabs her by the collar of her shirt, and saunters up to the deck to show his crewmates what he’s found.

His steps, loud and menacing, alert his crew to his presence. He drops her with a loud thud as he looks down. “What’s your name, brat?” His voice deep and menacing, She tells him her name as he continues to interrogate her. Apparently she was going to rob the crew blind like she had done to the previous pirates, the one kid had seen at the market.

Sighing, Kid shakes his head. He has no idea what to do with her, let alone if she would be an asset to his team. Motioning for his crewmates to come over in the corner. Speaking softly, he admits: “I want to throw her overboard to be honest.” Killer however, can’t help but interject. “Let her have a chance to prove herself; if she can’t, then she can be abandoned.”

And so it went. The next year he spent almost every day with her, eating meals, going on excursions, fighting rivals and generally having a good time. It was when they were having a celebration that he finally realized his feelings towards her.

The smile on her face as she ate and drank with the others, the way the bonfire illuminated her features, and her feisty but kind personality towards others was too much for him to bear. He had to ask her out, but how?

It was almost time to disembark, to explore the new island. That was when it hit Kid: he can admire the scenery and then take her somewhere secluded to ask her out. The weather was perfect for the day, so he shouldn’t have any issues with rain. Looking among his crewmates, he spots her talking to Killer.

Before she can even finish her conversation, she feels a callused hand grip hers, practically dragging her away. “Hey, what did you do that for?!” She shrieks. “I want to come with you when exploring the island, and I didn’t know how else to get you to come with me.”

With a sigh and a nod, she states calmly. “Alright, I’ll come with you. Just ask nicely next time, okay?” Grumbling, Kid agrees under his breath and begins to walk. Leaves crunch under his feet, the canopies protecting the both of them from what was beginning to become a damp heat.

“Look at that….” Trying to break the ice a bit more, Kid points at two birds in the tree, their plumage a rainbow of colors. She can’t help but grin at him as he tries to make conversation with her. He doesn’t want her to feel like this is a march to the death, he wants her to feel comfortable with him.

Responding in kind, she begins to point out other landforms and wildlife, chatting and gesturing wildly. She’s so enveloped in talking with him, that she doesn’t notice the overgrown vines covered in moss and marcesence before it’s too late. Stepping in front of her, she lands directly on his firm chest. She can feel his heart beating a mile a minute, as hers beats in sync.

Blushing, she pushes herself off of him. “I’m okay, I promise. Let’s carry on.” She stutters. Kid, sweating bullets, couldn’t believe what just happened. He would’ve never kept someone from falling before; he would’ve watched them eat shit and laugh about it.

Making sure to be more vigilant, they continue to trek through the jungle, until they hit a dead end. A cliff, hundreds of feet above the ground awaits them. A forest of trees below them, and flocks of birds above. Kid stops and sits, motioning for her to sit across from her.

His eyes dart all around as he starts to speak gruffly. “Listen…I know the first day we met wasn’t a great one…I threatened to throw you overboard. But this year we’ve spent together as crewmates has changed all of that. I am not a sappy guy, believe me, you’ve seen how I treat the others. But something inside me has been unleashed that I never thought could happen, and that’s love. And I’ve been trying to find the best moment to ask you….if you would go out with me.” Those last few words were hard to get out of his mouth, and she can tell.

She had a fondness for him too, despite his rough and tumble exterior, she could tell he had a big heart. Even those few moments ago, him acting as her shield was enough to prove that he cared. “Yes Kid, I would love nothing more than to go out with you. You might not have noticed it fretting over your own feelings, but I had begun to grow fond of you. And I would love to spend every moment I can with you.”

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, Kid’s body visibly relaxes. “Then…can I, uh, give you a kiss?” One nod is all he needed and she gave it to him. Leaning in, he presses a gentle but sloppy kiss to her lips.

“Let’s stay here for a while….the rest of the crew can wait.”

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece imagines #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid #kid x reader

[kalinysu]

so; imagine lower moon reader taking a big interest in gyutaros physique and ever since they got the chance/luck to watch him at his work, lower moon reader draws his body structure, different poses/posture and movement when he battles/rests!

one day they didnt pay enough attention/mind to notice him sneaking up on them since they we're to drowned in their doodles.. and he snatches it 'nd reader gets embarrassed and tries to clarify since they never really had interaction

𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐌𝐄? — Gyutaro x F!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: None.

𝐍𝗼𝐭𝐞𝐬: Cute idea, and so sorry i took so long! I’ve been pretty busy and may not be able to write again as soon as i’d like to.

You had always been an artist, even in your human years. Now up until you became a lower moon. You stayed dedicated to your job as a 12 kizuki of course, but you couldn’t help but draw everytime you got the chance. Especially now that you’ve discovered the existence of upper six. At first, you didn’t know that they were two demons. You thought there was only one, the girl. But soon after you came to find out she had a brother, Gyutaro.

And sooner or later, you took an interest in his physique, and just the way he looked. You were quick to make sketches of his battle stances and even just the way he sits. You had never seen anyone like him, of course. So naturally you were very curious about him. You admired his build, and the markings on his face. Even his hair, you took a special interest in. One day, you were sitting alone in the infinity castle, scribbling away in your notebook.

You didn’t speak much to the other demons unless absolutely necessary, so nobody really approached you. You figured you were safe to draw the demon once again since you supposed nobody would come near you.

You shifted to a more comfortable position to sit in, until you noticed a shadow over you. You had been so focused on drawing you didn’t even realize. You hesitated for a moment, before looking up, only to be met face to face with the very man who was filling up all the pages in your sketchbook. Your eyes widened, and before you could react your journal was gone, and Gyutaro was faced away from you, looking through it. “—W-wait, give that back!” You said, jumping to your feet to try and retrieve it. He simply shoved you away, his face buried in the book.

You couldn’t tell how he’d react, but you were afraid he might not appreciate you drawing him. “Is this me?” He asked with an amused chuckle, his palm pressed against your forehead to keep you from getting close to the book. You froze, no longer trying to get it back. It was far too late. “U-uh.. Y-yes but—“ You stutter, clearing your throat a bit. “I-I just thought you looked cool and.. thought I would draw you..” You said, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

He didn’t say anything, continuing to flip through the pages. Honestly, he was impressed. Nobody had ever drawn him before, and on top of that you thought he was cool? That’s something he’s never heard in his life. “Can I have these?” He asked, looking down at you. You stared in shock. Have them? He wasn’t mad? “U-uh—Of course!” You said, feeling a little more confident. He handed you the book, not wanting to rip any of the drawing with taking them out. You carefully took a few pages out and handed them to him. “How come your only drawing me? Am I that weird looking?” He asked, using his free hand to scratch at his skin.

“N-no!! Not at all! It’s just.. Your.. Really, really cool..” You mumbled. He was shocked, really. He leaned down to look at your face, tilting his head. “You mean that..?” He asked. You nodded, looking away from him. Your cheeks flushed pink from the sudden closeness. “That’s.. Intriguing.” He said with a small grin, followed by a chuckle.

“Do you think you can draw me more?” He asked. You looked back at him, feeling your heart skip a beat. “M-more?” He nodded. “Yeah, can you do that?” He questioned. “Y-yeah! I can!” You said, moving back to where you were sitting before on top of a cushioned platform. He followed, sitting slightly behind you. You were a little nervous, having the person you were drawing for so long watching you. You picked up your pen and began to draw, eventually, you felt his head resting on your shoulder.

He still couldn’t believe that someone like you would want to draw someone like him, and actually took an interest him. He was always labeled as ugly so naturally he didn’t understand. “Why me?” He suddenly asked, causing you to look at him from the corner of your eye, turning your head a little. You smiled. “Why not?” You said. “Why would you want to draw someone as displeasing as me?” He asked once more, genuinely curious. “I don’t think your displeasing at all.”

“Man, you’re a weird one.” He said with a chuckle, before focusing back onto your drawing.

#demon slayer #kny #gyutaro #gyutaro fluff #gyutaro x reader

[wooahaes]

before i know it, the me of today hopes for the you of tomorrow

pairing: non-idol!wonwoo x fem!reader

genre: fluff

word count: ~0.7k

warnings: one mention that pins down readers birthday as being a summer birthday. but mostly its just sappy, loving wonwoo.

daisy’s notes: he is boyfie shaped fr........ i will b thinking abt him forever

Wonwoo had a soft spot for the nights where you fell asleep in his lap while he was gaming.

Most of the time, it was because you hated going to bed alone unless you had to. You’d always been the more openly affectionate one in your relationship, and you’d told him outright one day (long after moving in together) that it felt weird to not fall asleep snuggled up close to him. So you’d come into the living room to where he was playing online with his friends on a game system rather than his PC, and you’d lay your head in his lap and watch... until you inevitably fell asleep every single time. He’d asked about it once, and you did have to confess that you didn’t intend to fall asleep. You just wanted to stay close with him until he was done, but the sound of his breathing was calming (even if the occasional things he said weren’t), and usually you ended up dozing off by accident.

Tonight was no different. He had his headset on, controller in hand, and your head using his lap as a pillow. Seungcheol was saying something about his plans to get in and play later this week when Wonwoo starting keeping an eye on the time. The clock ticked over to midnight, and he let out a quiet sigh as he waited for Seungcheol to finish speaking. The moment he did, he spoke up and said he was going to get off for the night.

“I‘ll see you tomorrow,” he said as he started to disconnect.

Only to hear Seungcheol’s quiet ‘tch.’ “We all know you took off today for her. You don’t have to hide it.”

Wonwoo smiled to himself. “That’s why I said I’d see you tomorrow.” Before he bid his farewell and disconnected from the game.

It was only light teasing, and it left him with a lovestruck smile on his face as he looked down at you. He reached out, fingers grazing the side of your face for a moment before he turned off the console. He’d plug in his controller in a few minutes. For now, he was going to admire you for a little longer...

Only for you to stir, finally looking up at him after glancing back at the TV. “You’re done?” Then you sat up, stifling a small yawn. “You didn’t play long...”

“That’s okay,” he said, reaching for the remote. He clicked the TV off, before turning to you. “I’m all yours for the next twenty-four hours.”

The way your brows had drawn together in slight confusion only made him smile. Being able to vex your brain and surprise you like this always made him happy, and maybe he had taken advantage of your sleepy state to be able to do it. He nodded toward the clock, and watched as you put the puzzle pieces together mentally before realization struck.

“Wonwoo--”

He had already slid a little closer to you, pulling you in for a soft kiss. “Happy birthday, my love,” he said as he leaned back, casually dropping the term of endearment just to see you smile. “Whatever you want to do today, I’ll do it.”

You didn’t have plans. Wonwoo knew you didn’t have plans, too. But the fact that he had cleared everything today in order to give you his full attention was sweet, considering he knew that you were used to people being too busy (or on vacation--the pains of a summer birthday) around your birthday. And of course it would be Wonwoo who knew that and found a way to say, without saying it, that he was there for you. That he’d always find time for you.

Maybe the sentiment would make you cry later... but for now you just leaned in to kiss him one more time before going to bed. The two of you could figure out plans when you woke up later. For now, you just wanted to cuddle with him and think vaguely about how you would spend the day with your beloved.

taglist: @twancingyunhao​ @wonuziex​ @synthetickitsune​ @cinnamoroxie​

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #seventeen x you #svt x you #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x you #wonwoo x y/n #wooahaes.23

[shxtodxroki]

𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝙷𝚘𝚖𝚎

Send me the name of your favorite character and I’ll write a drabble for them! :)

Shoto sighed in relief as his tired legs finally reached the door to your shared home, already smiling at the thought of finally getting to see you after being at work all day long. His day hadn’t been particularly long or difficult, but work always left him drained by the time he clocked out, and seeing you was always the perfect way to brighten his day when he finally returned home.

When he turned his key in the doorknob and stepped into the home, though, Shoto noticed that you weren’t waiting for him in the living room like you usually were.

He did, however, hear a slight shuffling coming from your shared bedroom, leading him to assume that you were busy as he set his things down, took off his work shoes and started making his way to the bedroom to greet you.

Before he could make it all the way to the room, however, you swiftly opened the door just enough to peek out at him, the slightly startled look on your face quickly morphing into a loving smile as your eyes met his. Shoto could immediately tell that you were up to something, however, as he noticed how your body was clearly positioned to block the doorway to the room, immediately finding himself grinning at the thought of whatever you had gotten yourself up to.

“Good evening, love.” Shoto mumbled, stepping closer to you with a grin just to see what you would do in response. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Sho! I’m glad you’re home!” you responded just a bit too enthusiastically, hands reaching out slightly in a defensive position as you attempted to stop him from getting any closer.

Shoto could no longer hold back a chuckle at the sight of you, so obvious in your attempts to hide whatever waited for him behind the door of your bedroom. Shoto had known you long enough that he completely trusted that nothing nefarious was behind the door, he knew without a doubt that you’d never break his trust in any serious way, so all he could do was smile as he imagined what you might have done while he was at work.

“...Mind letting me into the bedroom, angel? I’d like to change out of my work clothes.” Shoto finally asked after a moment of silence between the two of you, your smile only growing more sheepish as you realized that it was time to come clean to your boyfriend.

“Well you see, about that Sho…” You mumbled, legs twisting awkwardly were you stood in the doorway as you cast your eyes towards the ground. “Do you remember how we were talking about possibly adopting a cat soon?”

Shoto’s eyes lit up upon hearing your words, smiling brightly as he barely held himself back from charging right into the room behind you. At this point he knew more or less what you were going to tell him, but he restrained himself in favor of hearing you admit to it yourself, simply nodding in response to your question as he waited for you to finish.

“Uh… well, so my friend is moving since she just got a new job and it’s pretty far, and her new place doesn’t allow pets.” You admitted, Shoto’s heart melting as you talked. “And I couldn’t stand to let her poor baby get sent to a shelter, so…” You trailed off, deciding to finally step aside and allow your eager boyfriend to get his first glimpse of the new addition to your family.

Your boyfriend’s heart swelled as the small black cat inside the room made it’s way over to him, brushing gently against his leg and purring contentedly. It was clear that the cat immediately liked him, just as drawn to your gorgeous boyfriend as everyone else always was as he reached down to gently pet the animal.

“Are you upset? I should have asked you first.” You admitted as you crept up behind Shoto, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind as he melted into your touch.

“Of course not, love. I had already agreed to getting a cat soon anyways, I just didn’t expect it to happen so suddenly.” He reassured you, both of you smiling as the cat continued to cuddle up to him. “What’s it’s name?”

“Her name’s Boo, my friend says she’s an absolute angel.” You responded, body beginning to show signs of exhaustion as your energy began to lower. Shoto smiled as he felt you leaning into him, moving with you to lay both you and your new furry friend onto the bed as he moved to grab his pajamas for the evening.

“Well, if you’re happy with her, then I’m happy too.” Shoto promised, smiling gently as he watched the newest member of your family cuddle up to you as you settled into bed. This would certainly be an adjustment, but it was a step forward in your lives that he was excited to take, and he was thankful that he would have you by his side as you learned to care for your new pet together.

Request - @krb-girl said: I saw you were doing and ask thing and wanted to chime in. My favorite character is Shouto todoroki, looks cool and aloof but is actually a touch starved dork. Absolutely my type.

A/N: I’m sorry y’all I just CAN NOT resist the idea of Shoto and cats, I had this idea and immediately knew I had to write it </3 He’s just so endearing I love him sm :) My requests are open, so if you have a request please feel free to send it in! 

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If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

#{✏️} - bee's writing #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x you #bnha x you #mha x y/n #bnha x y/n #mha imagines #bnha imagines #mha drabbles #bnha drabble #mha fluff #bnha fluff #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x y/n #todoroki x y/n #shoto todoroki x you #todoroki x you #shoto todoroki imagine #todoroki imagine #shoto todoroki fluff #todoroki fluff

[chaotic-super]

Background Rhythm

Read it on AO3 here!

“Come on, you won’t feel any better if you just sit and wallow alone in your loft.”

Lena pulls Kara through the bar by her hand, her grip tight so she doesn’t lose her through the crowd that seems to be getting thicker by the second.

“I won’t have to sit and wallow alone in my loft if you stay and hang out with me. I’d much prefer to be there than here. This isn’t my scene, Lena.”

“I know, but what better time to push yourself and enjoy everything life has to offer than when you’re feeling a bit shitty?”

Kara sighs and lets Lena pull her through the tightly packed space. She’s not a big fan of it, and people are standing too close for comfort. She keeps her grip on Lena’s hand tight, afraid that a single moment of distraction will cause them to be separated and then her buoy in this ocean of people will be lost.

Lena pulls her to the bar and wraps her arm around her waist to keep her close, the bare skin of her forearm pressing against the small of Kara’s back, the skin there deliciously exposed by the crop top Lena insisted she wear mainly for her selfish enjoyment but under the guise of making her look hot as hell to get back at her loser of an ex.

Kara watches Lena closely as she orders for the pair of them, her eyes lingering on the sharp curve of her jaw and the confidence held in the stiffness of her neck. She trails her gaze down that neck, and then she settles on her collarbones before flicking her gaze away abruptly when she realizes how much she wants to lick them. Totally not appropriate.

She shouldn’t be thinking about Lena like this, not when she’s being a good friend and getting her out of her loft and away from the pity party she’s been throwing herself since finding out her loser of an ex was cheating on her.

Mike was by no means a great boyfriend, but he was sweet, and he was someone Kara could always laugh with. There might not have been the greatest level of support, but she was always able to look past that because while he wasn’t there for her, he was more than she had without him, and somehow, that was enough.

It made it sting all the more when she found out what he was doing behind her back. He wasn’t even making up for being shitty behind her back when they were together. He was cheating on her with multiple women for the entirety of their relationship and still had the balls to complain when she made him pick his socks up off the floor or take his feet off the coffee table. It would have been nice to find out a different way though, because finding her boyfriend and a random woman getting steamy in her shower in the middle of the day was not fun, and she’ll never look at her bathroom the same way.

Mike admitted to what he did after a little pushing but it was probably just to hurt her after she kicked him out of her place and made it clear they were no longer together. She can’t even understand how he managed to get with so many girls though; he’s nothing special in the sack.

Lena touches her arm and it makes her jump. “Hey, you ok?”

“Yeah, just thinking.” Kara plasters a smile on her face, one that is faker than the one the bartender is currently giving a drunken patron down on the other side of the bar.

“About Mike?”

“Yeah, just thinking about how much of a douche he is,” Kara admits. “Mostly just wondering how he managed to find so many other women to sleep with when he was so mediocre. They must have all been one-night stands because there’s no way anyone was coming back for more.”

Lena snickers from her side. “Now that’s the attitude you should be having. You’ve gotten past the part where you’re just sad and missing him. I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah, but it’s making me realize how pathetic I was to date him in the first place.” Kara shrugs, taking a large gulp of the drink Lena ordered for her. She winces when it reaches her throat. Whatever Lena got for her is strong.

A frown covers Lena’s face and she takes a second to look around the bar, her focus drawn to an empty booth across the room. She grabs Kara’s hand again and rushes them over to it before it gets snagged up. It’s still covered in empty glasses from the last group that was here, but she just pushes them into a little pile on one side of the table and tucks herself and Kara into the opposite side of the booth.

“Now that we’re not surrounded by a bunch of sweaty people, I can tell you that you’re the least pathetic person I know. I might not know what was going through your head when you decided to date the human embodiment of that one fork you always avoid in your cutlery drawer because it has weird vibes, but I do know you, and I know that you’re not pathetic.”

Kara shakes her head. “I think I was just using him.”

Lena’s eyebrows furrow. “I don’t think you could use someone if you tried, no offence. You’re too nice.”

“Not on purpose, I don’t think. Looking back at it though, I’m sort of realizing that I wasn’t with him for the right reasons.”

Lena covers Kara’s hand with her own and shuffles close to her side so their thighs touch and she can pull their joined hands into her lap. “How so?”

“I was only with him because it was better than being alone.” Kara’s voice is small but the words are so sure. “I don’t want to be alone, Lena.”

Kara hadn’t intended on being so direct, but there’s just something about the sudden onslaught of emotions, Lena’s caring face and her soft voice that draws it out of her like it’s the easiest thing on the planet.

Lena wraps her arms around her, pulling her close so Kara’s head rests against her shoulder. “You’re not alone, Kara. I’ll never leave you alone, I promise. “

Kara clings to Lena, her fingers digging into her back like she’s afraid Lena will pull back and make a break for it at any minute despite her being blocked in the booth.

The fingers in her back hurt, but Lena’s not letting go for anything. Not until Kara is secure enough to do so and believes every word she says. “I got you. I’m not going anywhere, I swear it. I’m right here and you’re not alone.”

“Lena,” Kara whispers, adjusting her grip but staying just as close. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Am I a bad person for using him like that?” She whispers her question.

Lena just barely shrugs, but being so close to her, Kara feels the tiny movement. “I don’t think so. I think that people do silly things when they’re scared, and I think he’s enough of an ass that he deserved it anyway.”

Kara nods against her. “I’m sorry I’m ruining the night. We haven’t even got through one drink yet and I’m already a mess.”

“That’s ok. I brought you here to help you move on. It seems as though my idea of a boozy night isn’t what you need. It’s an emotional chat kind of day.” Lena cards her fingers through Kara’s hair, fully aware of the way Kara always relaxes when she does that.

“Can we get out of here?” Kara asks, her eyes begging until she spots their still full glasses. “After our drinks though.”

Lena sighs. “Yeah, sure.” She’s disappointed that her plan hasn’t worked and made Kara feel better, but she can see that Kara is getting uncomfortable being here when she’s so emotional and by the way she keeps turning her head towards the crowd, she must be self-conscious.

“Are you upset?”

“No, darling. I’m not upset. We can leave whenever you want.” Lena is quick to reassure her, so she doesn’t have time to filter out the pet name before it leaves her mouth.

Kara doesn’t mind it at all though, her cheeks flushing. Nobody has ever given her a pet name outside of her family before. Even past boyfriends only ever called her by her name. Her head ducks forward, her eyes closing as she follows through with the movement. She lifts it again after a moment, keenly aware of Lena’s gaze on the side of her face, probably focusing on her blushing cheeks.

“Ok.” Kara breathes, her fingers circling her glass before bringing it to her face for a healthy sip.

“Ok,” Lena repeats, following Kara’s lead and taking a sip of her drink. She scoots back to give her a little more space to breathe but stays close nonetheless, her knee resting against Kara’s.

There are several moments in which Lena thinks about starting up a conversation, but each time she opens her mouth, she sees the distant look in Kara’s eyes and the way she’s lost in thought. It’s better just to let her work out her feelings before pushing her to talk again.

Their glasses get steadily emptier and emptier as the minutes tick by, and once they are both empty, Lena pushes them across the table to join the other empty glasses over there. The movement breaks Kara out of her distant staring and she looks up to meet Lena’s eyes. “Sorry. I’m not exactly making this a fun night for you, am I?”

“That’s not what tonight was about. Tonight is about you; we can do whatever you want.” Lena bumps her shoulder into Kara’s gently. “If you want to sit and stare, we can sit and stare.”

“And if I want to dance instead?”

Lena rolls her eyes good-naturedly but is worried that Kara’s just saying that because she feels bad that all they’ve done for the past few minutes is sit in silence. “I suppose I can make that happen but I must warn you, I don’t know how to dance properly in a club.”

“Me neither. I don’t think I know how to dance outside of a club either, so we’re as bad as one another.” A smile sneaks its way onto Kara’s face, and Lena’s worry ebbs away with it.

Lena shakes her head, offended that Kara has no faith in her dancing skills. “Hey, I can dance outside of a club, just not in one.”

“Really?” Kara sounds genuinely surprised and Lena shoves her arm in response.

“Yes! Why is that so shocking?”

Kara shrugs. “I don’t know. You just don’t seem like the type. What kind of dancing do you do?”

“I can dance ballroom,” Lena says casually, although her cheeks flush. She’s just grateful the dim light hides it somewhat.

“Really?” Kara’s eyes light up. “Where did you learn to do that?”

Lena tilts her head, cracking her neck and making Kara wince before she answers. “I’m a Luthor. I didn’t get a choice. Lillian made sure I had the training she deemed necessary. Being a trained ballroom dancer was never a choice I would have made for myself.”

“So if you had professional training, does that mean that you’re good at it?” Kara’s grin is growing larger by the second, and her eyes are getting predatory in a way that shows her true intentions.

“When have I ever not been good at something, Kara? Of course I’m good at it.”

“Can you show me?”

There it is. Lena could see that coming. “Perhaps we should head out then, huh? I don’t think even my skills can work with club music. I’ll call my driver and get him to come and get us, and then we’ll go to my place.”

“Yes!” Kara hisses in celebration, her fist pumping in the air. “I’m so excited.”

“Whatever. You better get ready though because you’re about to have a ballroom lesson when we get back to my place. You might want to go and grab some water before we go so you’re not dancing on wobbly feet.”

“Ok.” Kara dives out of the booth with no more prompting necessary. “I’ll get you one too.”

Lena watches her go, her eyes pinned on her retreating form. She’s not a big fan of ball dancing. She wasn’t lying when she admitted to being good at it, but it’s never been a passion of hers. However, she needed a way to wipe the sad look off Kara’s face, and she succeeded. It’s insane what she’s willing to do with that woman.

She truly doesn’t understand how anyone could be as stupid as Mike. How could he cheat on Kara when he had the world’s most beautiful and wonderful woman to himself? Lena can only imagine what that would feel like.

Kara is leaning up against the bar, and it takes a moment for Lena to come to her senses and get in touch with her driver, Frank, so he can come and get them.

She tucks her phone away as Kara comes back with two glasses. “He’s not far away, only ten minutes.”

“We better hurry then. We’ll go and wait outside for him in a minute. Drink your water.” Kara instructs her, already chugging hers out of excitement to get out of here so she can see Lena dance. She hasn’t been as excited about anything in a while.

Lena sips her water, not particularly bothered about leaving it half-finished by the time Kara has finished hers and instead ushering Kara out of the booth once more and towards the door.

Together, they fight their way through the crowds, and Lena questions why she ever thought a club was a good idea since neither of them goes to clubs regularly and are much more inclined to stay in for a quiet night. She supposes she thought a change would get Kara out of her funk. It might have worked to an extent, but it’s not something she would do again.

They clamber into the back of the car in a mix of unruly limbs and Kara settles beside Lena without a care of how much she’s leaning into her, not that Lena minds. They spend the entire journey so entwined they might as well be playing Twister.

Kara almost pulls Lena’s arm out of its socket as she drags her up to her penthouse, the blonde impatient to see her dance.

“Slow down, slow down.” Lena chuckles as Kara taps her foot while she unlocks the door.

“Lena,” Kara whines when she makes a show of opening the door extra slowly.

Lena giggles to herself. “Come on. We’ll have to move some of the furniture out of the way.”

Kara nods quickly, following her inside before heading right to the middle of the room. “What do you want me to move?”

Kara’s impatience makes Lena shake her head again. “You do know that ballroom dancing is about grace and poise, right? Maybe a little bit of patience will get you in the right state of mind for learning. We have all night, Kara, just relax.”

The words hit Kara deeply, and she drops her head forward for a second while she takes a deep breath, making a conscious effort to let go of all the tension in her shoulders.

She looks back up at Lena afterwards with a much more relaxed expression, and Lena smiles at her. “Much better. Let’s move the couch and coffee table first.”

They each grab an end of each piece of furniture and shuffle it as far back as they can so there’s a large empty space in the middle of the living room. Lena crinkles her nose at the rug. “That thing is heavier than it looks, but if we want the true ballroom experience then we need the hardwood floors.”

“I got it.” Kara offers. “I’ll roll it, and then we can drag it away together.”

“Ok. I’ll set up the music while you do that.” Lena grabs her phone and connects it to her speakers. She has to find a decent playlist, so it takes her a few moments to set it up. The music rings out gently, all slow and delicate to start with.

Kara is waiting for her with the rolled rug, so she grabs the opposite end and they heave it out of the way and prop it against the nearest wall.

“Ready?”

Kara nods. “Show me what you’ve got.” She gestures to the empty space in the living room and takes a step back.

“Ah, ah. We’re in this together. You’re dancing with me, just follow my lead.” Lena pulls Kara into the middle of the room and guides her hands to where she wants them, one hand clasped in hers and the other on her shoulder while Lena places hers on Kara’s hip. “Follow my feet.”

Lena starts them off as slow as she can, not paying any mind to the rhythm of the music while she’s just showing her the basics, but as Kara gets the hang of it, she speeds them up to match it until they are turning and stepping in time with the melody.

A couple of songs in and Kara finally garners enough courage to look up rather than at her feet because she’s afraid she’ll step on Lena’s toes.

Their eyes meet and Kara’s mouth is split into a toothy grin that toothpaste commercial actresses would be jealous of.

Lena’s not focused on her smile though. Not when she’s got a close-up view of the blue eyes that haunt her dreams and nightmares alike, the ones she sees every time she closes her eyes and the ones that inspire the majority of decisions she makes.

Unbeknownst to her, Kara is having the exact same thoughts, her mind buffering because she can’t handle the emerald-green eyes staring back at her. She clears her throat when her brain decides to start functioning again. “You’re really good at this.” She whispers.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” Lena continues guiding her, flicking her into a spin and then dipping her low, their faces so close they can feel the ghost of each other’s breaths against their lips.

Kara is pulled back up, and whether it’s the closeness, the heat of their bodies, Lena’s hand on her bare waist or a mixture of all of the above, she can’t stop herself. In a movement that is much more confident than any she’s made whilst dancing, Kara leans in and moves her hand off Lena’s shoulder to cradle the back of Lena’s head as she pushes her lips into Lena’s.

A gasp is released between their lips, but neither knows who it originated from. However, neither is about to start investigating, the kiss taking precedence over everything. Their lips move together and it’s getting rougher and more desperate by the second. Kara’s hand fists Lena’s hair, messing it up from her usual neat style, and Lena’s fingertips press into the small of Kara’s back, pinning her in place.

Their hands are still clasped together but are no longer held aloft, instead just swinging by their sides softly in time with the motion of their lips.

Oxygen becomes a problem though, and far too soon, Lena has to pull back for a breath, her forehead remaining pressed against Kara’s because she can’t bear to move away. Kara probably wouldn’t let her move away anyway though, because her hand is still in her hair and scratching softly. “What are we doing?”

“Something I’ve wanted to do for a while but never had the balls to admit,” Kara whispers. “Not even to myself.” She adds.

“Me too.” Lena smiles, pushing back in for another frantic kiss, her tongue making itself known as it slides between Kara’s lips.

Kara jumps. “You have a tongue piercing?” She leans her head back to look into Lena’s eyes.

Lena presses harder against Kara’s back, unhappy with the sudden distance. “Yeah, want to feel it?”

“Definitely.” Kara allows herself to be pulled back in, and Lena allows her to experience that piercing close-up. She gets lost in the sensations of it and the music that is still marching on in the background, and now that she’s tuned into the endless rhythm, she’s aware of the way Lena is dancing her tongue to the beat of the music, completely dominating her mouth and claiming it as her own with the poise and grace of a ballroom dancer.

Kara would have thought the next step would be obvious; they would head somewhere soft, and they would become considerably more naked, but instead Lena just lifts their dangling arms once more and begins pulling her around the room again in a slow, gentle wave, their dancing continuing with their lips pressed together.

There’s no escape from Lena. She’s all-encompassing and the only steady thing in the room despite being the thing moving the most. Kara doesn’t want to escape; she wants to be closer.

They somehow gravitate even closer, so close there’s no room for even the strongest of breezes between their bodies. Lena’s lips retreat for a moment, but only so kisses can trail across Kara’s cheek and then down her neck where those lips attack her vulnerable flesh.

Kara happily leans her head back to give Lena all the space she wants, and she’s made even happier when Lena presses a leg between her own, bringing them impossibly closer. The hand on her back slides down to grip her butt and push her hips into the thigh nestled between hers, and the sound that comes out of her mouth in response is nothing but guttural.

The moan breaks Lena out of her Kara-induced spell and she releases her neck to ask, “What about Mike? Is this a rebound thing?”

Kara peers at her through half-mast eyelids. “Who?”

“Good.” Lena smiles, forcibly rolling Kara’s hips into her thigh. “Very good.”

Check out the SG Fandom event Supergirl Mayhem here! It's for artists and writers!

#supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #fanfic #cw supergirl #supercorp endgame #supercorp fanfic #chaoticsuper #kara zor el

[pandolfo-malatesta]

...“but on his way back to Riverrun he left his tail and went off with a woman.”

Once they’re spotted making for the camp calls ring out to herald their arrival.  “She’s back!  She’s brought him.”  There is no welcome in the calls, no comradely greeting; instead the words lift like snouts scenting blood.  “The lovers!” someone chortles, and he is upon a plodding horse again, pressed against her, can smell the ghost of his rotting hand.  “The Kingslayer and his whore!”  Upon hearing that she makes a choked noise.

He bristles, though not at the epithet so often flung against him.  Why would they call her, so obviously a chaste and honest maid, such a thing?—other than to mock her, to wound her, to humiliate her.  Her shoulders have crept high, her elbows drawn in; she is trying to make herself small enough to overlook.  His pulse quickens as he tries to make a fist of the hand he does not have.  Even if the golden hand cannot hold a sword, it can dispense retribution of its own.  Ronnet Connington has learned as much; if Jaime has the chance, these men will, too.

Anger at hearing her insulted because of him is expected.  Less so is the lightning bolt of desire, quick and pure and devastating, that the words send through him.  He shivers at it, even as shame fills him.

Wisdom would let the slander stand unanswered.  “My lady’s name is Brienne,” he warns, relieved that his voice is steady, if a bit loud in his own ears.  “And if ever I’d had her, I would remember it.”  He doesn’t need to glance over to know that her flush has deepened, darkened.

As they rein in their horses, men swarm them.  Rough hands drag them from their saddles; they jerk his arms back and wind a rope around his elbows, rip his sword belt free.  He notices that they leave Brienne’s hands loose.  Ice spikes through his veins as he realizes that they aren’t afraid of what she may do to them.  If they aren’t afraid of her, injured though she is, they can’t be afraid of him, and his bonds are meant to show him his place here.

His heart sinks as their captors herd them toward a hole in the rock.  They duck into a cavern, dotted here and there with fires that cast weird shadows onto the walls.  Men mill about the place, all of them with metal glinting somewhere about them: a long knife in a belt, an axe within arm’s reach.  Their attention is fixed on the new arrivals.  Whatever brought Brienne and him here, they have little hope of an easy exit from this place.

There is a gurgling, rattling noise, the like of which he’s never heard and that can only bode ill.  Then, as if translating that hideous rasp, a northern voice calls, “Get him on his knees!”

As they force him to the ground Brienne struggles against the hands restraining her, though without much conviction.  “I would see them first,” she demands, sounding not as firm as she would probably like.  He follows her gaze to see that she is addressing a ghoul in grey.  The figure is strangely familiar: something in its erect bearing, in the matted auburn hair.  

Yet more captives shuffle out—neither of them a highborn lady of three-and-ten; just a boy and a hedge knight, both of them bruised and unremarkable in every way, though the latter eyes him with unconcealed disgust and the former looks fit to cry at the sight of her—and Jaime reckons he knows why he’s here.  Even so, he huffs out a laugh.  She glances sharply at him.  “I’m only worth two lives to you?” he murmurs lightly.  “You wound me, wench.”

“Jaime,” she keens, just at the edge of his hearing, and his slight smile disappears.  He must spare her from this.

He surveys the motley assemblage, ending with the ghoul.  “Who commands this?” he asks in the voice of the lord commander.  “At whose order am I to die?”

The redheaded ghoul hacks and sputters and the northman says, “Your own hand signed your death warrant.”  Jaime raises an eyebrow—would raise his golden hand, no longer good for signing anything, if he could.  “You have broken faith with my lady.”

He shrugs.  “More fool her, to be surprised by it.”

Brienne tries to stride forward.  “Let him live, please, my lady.  We are sworn to find your daughter, and we will, together.”  He will remember the warble of her “please” for the rest of his life, be it five minutes longer or five decades.  To have such a one as Brienne of Tarth—protector of innocents, loyalty made flesh, the finest knight in Westeros but for the chance of her birth—plead for his life humbles him.

The northern youth shakes his head.  “Lady Stoneheart spared your life, and theirs.”  He gestures to the captives.  “The Kingslayer must die.  Keep your word and prove yourself true.”

Jaime nearly laughs at that, his eyes narrowing.  Brienne has proven herself true time and again, across miles and months, through blood shed and sheer stubbornness.  What she has never been is a skilled liar, so that something is amiss has been obvious from the moment she returned to him.  Her eyes have been turned from him, never meeting his gaze; her speech has been unusually shy.  He’d expected perhaps to have to fight for Sansa Stark, side by side with Brienne.  He’s known for ages that he might die with her, though not like this.  The men holding her let go, none too gently; one shoves a sword into her hands, and for a moment she looks down at it as if she’s never held a weapon before.  Then she pulls Oathkeeper from its scabbard and pivots to face him.

Jaime Lannister’s lot in life, it seems, is to kneel before one woman or another.  First Cersei, then Catelyn Stark, who has become an eldritch creature who wants him dead; and now it will end with him on his knees before Brienne, the Maid of Tarth.  For so long he’s thought that he would die in battle, on his feet or astride a horse with a sword in his hand; he finds he doesn’t mind being at Brienne’s feet.  He only hopes she won’t blame herself too much, afterward.

He looks up at her and smiles.  It’s not the expression he’d like to wear, an insouciant smirk in the face of the Stranger; it’s softer, fitting for the woman who has planed away his carefully constructed self-conceit.

“Go away inside,” she whispers; he isn’t sure if it’s to herself or him that she speaks.  He won’t do it, not this time, not in their last moments together.

He’s never been afraid of death, but with the hour at hand he finds himself reluctant.  “Brienne,” he says. The glistening of her eyes is more precious than any gemstone.  Would that he had knelt before her in peaceful times.  “I trust you.”  With his life, and now with his death.  It will be quick—she will make sure of it.  Her sword is sharp, her arm strong.  He, at least, will not suffer.

Though her expression does not lighten she straightens, drawing her shoulders back and her head high.  In her eyes he sees rekindled that defiant spark, and bites back a grin.  Her fingers tighten around Oathkeeper’s hilt.  “Jaime,” she says, “you—”

As if possessed, the hedge knight bursts from where he’s been standing and barrels toward the undead Catelyn Stark.  All eyes turn to him, including Brienne’s; surely Jaime isn’t the only one to see the northman pull his dagger and aim it at the knight’s gut.  The knight himself sees and dives forward, under the dagger and at the northman’s knees.  The two tumble down and Catelyn—Lady Stoneheart—stumbles back, hissing.  While Jaime considers staggering to his feet Brienne whirls away from him, crossing to where the two men grapple in the dirt and, in one stroke, separating Lady Stoneheart’s head from her body.

As the blow is struck all sound is sucked out of the cavern, and the fires extinguish.  With ears ringing and eyes wide, he wonders if he’s died, if someone has finished the job for Brienne.  Then, dead or alive, he hauls himself to his feet.

Across the cavern—or maybe nearer than he can tell—there is a faint glow, a pale wriggle of movement in the air.  With his luck it will be some creature that thrives in darkness come to feast on human flesh; or maybe it is merely madness taking hold, his mind so starved for light, even after just these few moments, that it has imagined itself a source.  The sweep of it to and fro through the black is entrancing; streams of light linger in the air, making it hard to discern the thing’s shape.  But now he can see that its light is blue, and that it seems to be searching for something.  Strange though it is, the light does not alarm him as it approaches—except when it now and then disappears.  Its blue is kindly, comforting, and he stands straight and still, ready to welcome it.

When the light reaches him it is enough to illuminate its immediate surroundings.  A band around his chest loosens with the darkness pushed back.  Now he can see that the glow comes from a sword, and can’t imagine why he didn’t recognize it earlier.  He’s been here before: in a dream with Brienne lighting his darkness.

A hand he knows extends toward him.  The fingers run from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck, then across his throat, pausing at his pulse point to feel the thrum of blood there.  Her hand splays against his chest, drags down toward his stomach; his breath catches at the warm press of it as she ensures that he is uninjured.  I am well, he wants to tell her, and wants to ask if she is, but doesn’t know if his voice will work or if the sorcery surrounding them will leave him mute.

And then she touches his face: the faintest brush of fingertips against his cheek.  For neither the first time nor the last Jaime is helpless before her, helpless without her.  He closes his eyes, none the blinder for it, until she takes her hand away.

Then she is cutting through his bonds, propping the half-dead hedge knight halfway onto Jaime’s shoulder, and leading them and the boy out of the cavern.  They emerge, squinting, into daylight.  In the light the sword is as ordinary as it’s ever been; in the light so is she.  He takes her hand in his, and takes up his place beside her.

#Jaime x Brienne #Braime #fanfiction #post-ADwD #asoiaf #asoiaf fanfic #me to me: since you're obsessed with them you can write a couple of little old-school drabbles to cope #me: does this instead

[buckyownsmylife]

girl boss III - frustration

When Ransom Drysdale learned that his grandfather was cutting him off the will, he knew life as he knew would disappear. What he didn’t expect was that the only person that would be willing to give him a job was a woman half his age - a woman who despite her youth would come to teach him many things, especially outside the office...

Or the one where Ransom learns he’s a huge sub.

for general warnings, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

The week that followed was hell to me.

I could barely process what had happened, and so I didn’t want to believe it. I went into work Monday morning fully prepared to pretend that I didn’t desire my boss more than I’d ever desired anyone before, because there was just no way she actually wanted me, right?

Only every time I felt her eyes on me, I knew I was wrong. I could feel her desire, and I knew it was inevitable. I would give into both of our needs, regardless of what my reason wanted me to do.

But for now, I was still fighting back against my emotions, trying to make sense of the little scene we’d lived on the event, how she was able to make me feel so small and vulnerable with so little effort from her part.

I wasn’t used to it. In all of my relationships, sexual or the few times I’d tried to go the romantic route, I’d been in control of everything, from beginning to end. And it had come naturally to me: it was clear that it’s the role that was expected from someone like me, so I never questioned it.

One offer from her and it all came crumbling down.

Did I want what she was offering me? There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted *her, that much was clear for the both of us to see. The question was… did I want her so badly that I was able to do this on *her terms?

In the back of my mind, a little voice whispered, ‘but you want to explore what she’s offering’. It was the truth. I was curious, it was undeniable, but I was still too attached to that expected role I was supposed to fulfill that it was hard for me to admit it.

What if I didn’t like it?

Her words that evening left little space for hesitation: she had no doubt I would enjoy it and I had no doubt on her abilities to *make sure I would, but it only confused me further. How did she know me so well? It felt like she knew me better than I did, and I didn’t enjoy being the one in the dark, particularly when the subject was myself.

To understand it, though, I’d have to ask her. And I wasn’t sure I’d have the courage to do so until *I did it.

“I want you,” I found myself blurting out one evening, after everyone had gone home and she had asked me to stay back so she could review some of the notes I’d made to a manuscript. It wasn’t the first time we’d been alone doing a similar activity, but it was the first time we were completely alone in the building ever since *that evening, and the second she lowered the files in her hands, I knew I’d fallen right into her trap.

So *that’s why she’d been hovering the entire day, leaning over so I was inevitably drawn to the neckline of her shirt. Fuck, she was good. And I bet she *felt good, too “Are you sure?” She questioned after looking me up and down, head tilted to the side and exposing just a little bit more of that delicious neck that I wanted to leave my mark on…

“Fuck yes,” I groaned, eyes widening once I realized I had actually said it out loud. I wasn’t too sure why this felt more embarrassing than my admission of wanting her, but it did.

Perhaps because once I got the message through (the message that would hopefully get me what I wanted), I hadn’t anticipated looking as fucking whipped as most definitely truly was.

But damn it. Who could really blame me? I really, really wanted her to kiss me…

A perfec eyebrow raised up, her expression denouncing her amusement. “Well, if you insist…” I didn’t even have the time to realize I had yet again voiced something I’d expected to be inner dialogue. Because in a quick movement, she was out of her chair and rounding the desk that separated us, settling between my legs before leaning closer and closer and then…

And then our lips were connected. She tasted like cherry lipgloss and I wondered how someone as powerful as her could remind me of a time so innocent, back when I had my first kiss on the school’s playground.

I thought I had everything figured out. I was going to be the king of the world, just like I was the king of break time, leading the boys far away from the girls without them realizing it was because I wanted them to be mine. I was going to be a heartbreaker by the time I reached high school, and then I did and it didn’t feel good.

It just made me feel empty. Girls expected me to know what to do but I wanted to lose myself in them too. I wanted to forget it all for a while, have someone else lead the dance and allow me to ignore my problems, ignore how I found my dad balls deep in someone who wasn’t my mother, ignore how she yelled at me that I should have never been born. 

As her tongue swiped my lips open, all of my worries wiped away at the taste of her saliva. It was more than an instinct to let her in: it was a need. My hand went around her head to hold her close but hers reached for my neck, and she *squeezed.

It wasn’t enough to hurt me, but it sent the message across. And it made me so fucking horny. I whined when she pulled away, overwhelmingly aware that her rosy lipcolor was now slathered all over my lower face, knowing my eyes were glossy and my pupils blown.

I used to drink to feel this way. Now, I was praying I’d never have to search for relief in the bottom of a glass again.

She dove in to capture my lips in another kiss, one hundred times more aggressive than the previous one. I felt her weight settle over mine when she climbed onto my lap and my hands fell to the sides as the hand that wasn’t gripping my throat pulled on my hair. I choked in surprise at how fantastic it felt.

She bit down sensuously on my bottom lip when she pulled away, and it felt too fucking hot in that air-conditioned office room. I held her stare as she sized me up, but I couldn’t say it was easy. I didn’t know why, but she intimidated me.

Perhaps it was the fire I could see burning in her eyes. I found myself oddly attracted towards it.

I think I’d like to get burnt.

That kiss wasn’t enough. Even though it had me feeling more alive than I’d felt in months, even though it had my cock straining against my jeans (just from a little dance of lips)- I wanted more.

But my boss didn’t seem too eager to give me what I wanted, only to do what she pleased.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a very pretty smile?” The reaction was automatic. The edges of my lips quirked up, not being used at all to the silly adjective being applied to me.

When I shook my head, she smirked like the cat that caught the canary, swiftly slipping from my lap to kneel between my legs. “You’re a very pretty boy, aren’t you, honey?” A sound I’d never heard out of my own mouth resonated across the room at her words, paired with the phantom drag of her fingernail over the bulge on my jeans. “Tell me what you want, puppy,” she took mercy on me, but I couldn’t speak. Hypnotized by the mischief in her eyes, she seemed to understand it because slowly, she unzipped my pants, motioning me to raise my hips just enough so she could release my dick.

She didn’t waste any moment before leaning down and licking a line straight up my cock. “You’re so sensitive…” She mocked when I shuddered, fascinated by the way she immediately came back for more, licking and nibbling but never engulfing my member the way I wanted her to.

It felt like she just truly wanted to get acquainted with my taste.

“Tell me, pretty boy…” My breaths were growing heavier, my heart fighting against my ribcage. “Do you want your cock in my mouth?”

The understatement of the century. I tried to nod, too tired from holding back to even utter a word, but that just earned me a disappointed sound from her lips, hummed against the head of my cock.

She sounded unimpressed, and I’d never in my life had wanted to do more for someone else than I did right at that moment.

“Say it,” she ordered, helping me in my helpless state. I don’t think I would have been able to realize what it was that she wanted otherwise. “Say what you want and I might give it to you.”

At that point, I would do anything to have her suck me. I wasn’t too proud to beg - not anymore. 

Our eyes met. I knew what I had to do.

“Please, suck me,” I begged. “Please, please, suck me.” The grin that I received in response had my stomach falling down like I was on a roller coaster.

“Okay, I will suck you, honey…” She answered by licking a line up my hard member. “But you don’t get to cum until I say so.” And then she swallowed down half of my length, head bobbing up and down with the motions that were driving me crazy in ecstasy.

It had never felt this good before.

She was patient with the way that she licked me. It was like she was trying to memorize my every reaction, what made me jerk up and moan out loud in desire for her.

I felt close, too close. I was going to cum in a spectacular way, like I’d never came before, but when I let her know, she pulled away. “Rule number one,” she told me, “you can only cum inside my pussy.”

She started to get up and I understood I wouldn’t be going into her pussy that night, but I wasn’t prepared to say goodbye just yet.

“I-I want to taste you too.” She smirked at that, fingers making quick work of her skirt while she left me in the chair and climbed on the desk before us.

“Beg me for it,” she ordered, making me swallow around a dry throat. I wasn’t used to being in this position, but for her, I’d try.

Rubbing my sweaty palms on my thighs, I asked her to let me lick her off as sweetly as I could, only to get a pensive look in her face as a response.

“I don’t think you’re desperate enough.” God, she was so fucking sexy. Inhaling deeply, I prepared myself to try again.

“Please, miss. I am dying to taste you, please.” With a nod, she allowed me to do so, and so I leaned down to lick a stripe up her cunt, and I instantly groaned.

She tasted too fucking sweet. It was everything I had ever wished for, and I was addicted. Gripping her hips eagerly, I leaned down once more and buried myself against that delicious cunt, sucking and licking and swirling my tongue against her little nub.

She held me by the back of my head, forcing me to stay put even despite my rapidly decreasing ability to breathe - but I didn’t mind. I’d die happily if she’d keep giving me those sounds that she released, little breathless whimpers and moans, even a small call of my name.

“Fuck yeah.” Hearing her curse was such a turn on. “Yeah, this is where you belong now, puppy. On your knees for me.”

I moaned against her cunt, and the vibrations were all that were missing for her to reach her high. “Kiss me,” was the first thing she ordered once she had caught her breath, and I didn’t clean myself up before her lips were on mine, licking away the remnants of her own taste.

My eyes struggled to flutter open once she unglued herself from me. I earned a head pat for my efforts, and nothing had ever felt better than that simple gesture.

“It seems that I’m gonna have to train you, pretty boy…” I hadn’t realized it until then, but I’d come all over myself, just by eating her out. But I didn’t have the time to focus on that, because in a second her hand was around my neck, slightly choking me.

“I think I’ll buy you a nice chain… Make sure everyone in the office knows that you’re my little bitch.” I whimpered at the idea, and she smiled, arms closing in on me as she hugged me to herself despite the messy state of my body.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, her fingernails scratching my head and almost making me purr. “Want to take a shower?”

I nodded slowly, sleep suddenly taking over me, but I allowed her to get up and drag me towards the bathroom in her office.

“Can’t wait to take you to bed, puppy.”

#my series #my stories #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale #smut #ransom drysdale series #ransom drysdale stories #chris evans characters #chris evans series

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Buttons

"3. Ace x fem!reader. As a highschool student, reader asked for Ace's second button as a confession, as she saw how people were doing that on movies. Ace, as an obvious airhead, didn't take the cue. However, she kept the button as a memory. Now, they are together as a couple for years and Ace asks about the button as he saw her treasures it fondly. She tells him about the button and Ace just straight up proposes to her on the spot."

For those of you who, like me, didn't know of this before, it's a Japanese tradition for boys to give their crushes the second button on their school uniforms upon graduation.

Word count: 1320

     Standing in front of the freckled boy, you couldn’t help but stare at your shoes nervously as you fidgeted. 

     “Y/n! Can you believe it? We graduated! Be honest, you probably didn’t think I’d make it, did ya?” Ace asked with a laugh, his diploma resting lightly on his shoulder as you shook your head.

     “No, I always believed you’d make it. You… you’re smarter than you think.” you said nervously. 

     “Hahaha, then you have more faith in me than I do! I was worried for a moment! I mean, you’re smart, I didn’t have any doubts about you, but come on, I slept through half my classes!” his sunny smile as he complimented you made you blush.

     “Ace… I, I was wondering…” you bit your lip nervously, digging your shoe into the ground, still unable to look him in the eye, “I… could I… perhaps, ask for your second button?” you were pretty sure your face was an entirely new, undiscovered shade of red as you wrung your hands.

     “Hm? My second button? Sure, I guess. Not sure why you want that one, but okay.” Ace’s top two buttons were rarely fastened, the boy easily removing the small piece, “Here. If you’d like any of the others, just ask.” he gave another laugh as he placed the button in your hand. It was pretty clear that he either didn’t remember the meaning behind the buttons or was just dense, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be upset with him. It was the same charm that had drawn you to him in the first place. Pulling the button close to your chest, you smiled softly.

     “No, I… this is the only one I need. Thank you.” you said softly. Perhaps he’d realize it eventually, for now you’d content yourself with holding the small piece in your hands.

     Holding the button once more, you couldn’t help but smile. He still hadn’t realized the meaning of what he’d given you, even after so many years. It still made you giggle as to how dense he could be, your sweet, black haired airhead. Thankfully, he’d asked you out on a date shortly after you’d both entered college, pouring over textbooks simply so he could enter the same college as you. It was sweet how hard he’d worked just to stay by your side, though your dates often consisted of studying so he wouldn’t be kicked out, afraid of not being able to see you everyday as you attended classes. 

     He glanced at you, you were admiring the button on your purse again. He’d recognized it as the button from his school uniform, he even remembered giving it to you. It was such a simple thing, yet you seemed to treasure it as if it were a priceless diamond. While he’d fallen for you well before your graduation, he’d been too worried to say anything. His grades hadn't ever been that great and if he flunked out of highschool, he wouldn’t be able to see you on a daily basis. If that had happened, would you have fallen for someone else? Someone smart? Better for you than some flunked out loser? Those thoughts had tormented him, stopping him from asking you out. As a highschool graduate, it was different. He wanted to go to the same college as you, but if he failed in his college courses, there were still options, he didn’t have to go to that particular college or have that particular job, he could still be something for you. 

     You’d laughed when he’d told you about his worries, stating that it never mattered to you what he did. For you, it was enough to have his love, you’d have gladly switched your roles, letting him be the house husband while you worked if it meant being with him. He’d picked you up, spun you around and kissed you when you’d said that. You were playing with it again. It was an absentminded habit, your fingers fiddling with the button, but it was something he’d always been curious about. Why did you play with the simple button from his old school uniform?

     “Alright babe, I can’t stand it anymore, why is that stupid button so important to you? It’s a uniform button.” Ace asked, arms crossed as he gave you a curious look. You couldn’t help but giggle. Even after being together for as long as you had, he was still the same airhead that hadn’t known what it meant when he’d first given it to you.

     “Well first of all, it’s from you and I’ll always cherish something from you.” you said, grinning when his cheeks turned red, “Secondly, it’s the second button from your uniform. Since you still clearly don’t understand the meaning, I’ll explain it. The first button of a male student’s uniform represents one’s self, it represents you. The third button represents your best friend, like Deuce. The second.” you hesitated for a moment, glancing fondly down at the piece, “Represents is the person most precious to you. Your most beloved person. A confession. When I asked for your second button, I was telling you that you were the person most precious to me and that I hoped that I was the most precious person to you.” you finished softly, holding your purse in front of you, still staring at it, a fond, loving smile on your face. You barely noticed him move until he was taking your hand in his as he kneeled down.

     “I… I was saving this for a better time, something like a romantic dinner or… a ferris wheel or something stupid but I just… I’m sorry I’m such an idiot that I didn’t realize sooner and I’m so glad that you treasure it so much and I’d like to give you something you treasure even more because I love you so much and-” you put a finger to his lips, stopping his rambling.

     “What is it, Ace?” you asked, his heart pounding as he stared at you.

     “Y/n, I want you to marry me. I love you more than anything and… I think I’d die if you said no.” he said, pulling a ring out. Your heart pounded between multiple skipped beats, staring at the ring and Ace.

     “I… even if you weren’t going to die if I said no, I’d say yes. Absolutely yes.” you said, tears running down your cheeks as you pulled him close. His arms wrapped around you, standing up and spinning you around until he was dizzy, the both of you laughing as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Ones he quickly wiped away so that nobody would see him about to cry. Even if it was from happiness, he didn’t cry like his little brother!

     “I promise, I’m going to make you so happy. You’re going to be able to cherish the button and the ring and I’ll get you anythi-” you cut him off again, this time with a kiss.

     “You silly, airheaded man. You still haven’t realized that all I need is you?” you asked, trying to wipe your own tears away.

     “I know, really I do but I want to make you the happiest woman on earth. Oh! I know! Since we’ll have the wedding rings at the wedding, I should wear the button again! Then we can have a whole moment again where I give it to you again! What do you think? Is that okay? Too cheesy? We can do something else if you-” you briefly wondered how many times you’d have to stop him from rambling before he calmed down enough.

     “I think that sounds perfect. But first, let’s focus on telling everyone about the engagement.” you said with a small laugh, Ace giving an ear to ear grin as he nodded in agreement. You had a point, you should tell the others first, he could plan regifting you the button later.

#one piece #one piece ace #portgas d. ace #fire fist ace #portgas d ace #ace x reader #fire fist ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #hiken no ace #hiken no ace x reader #modern au