#i have told him no less than SIX times now to STOP. WORKING. OFF. THE. CLOCK. jesus christ

[moki-dokie]

how to make 19 year old boy who came of age during the pandemic and never had a real real job before now realize he needs to Chill The Fuck Out and be Less eagar about working for free holy shit he is impossible to wrangle

#moki talks #hi i got dumped with a shitload of new responsibilities at work #one of which includes trying to teach a Virgin Employee how work life.. works #today i got asked a mindfuckery question that made me go #oh oh no he doesn't even know basic labor laws must get him sat down with hr like yesterday #do you wanna know what the question was #'so if you work more than 8 hours are you like required to take a lunch??' #CHILD PLEASE #i have told him no less than SIX times now to STOP. WORKING. OFF. THE. CLOCK. jesus christ #it is a CHALLENGE when this is all in a remote environment #sigh. i am not cut out for teaching kids #lawd i am trying tho #i guess in his defense there aren't labor law posters plastered everywhere to read during breaks/downtime #as there are in the typical workplace environment #idk man he's a good kid very smart tons of initiative but i have a feeling this aint the job for him #which really sucks cause its basically his dream job but #bruh i need you to get like 3-6 months minimum of real people customer service job skills #smh i am flabbergasted he asked me about the break policy he has 0 concept of the severity of labor laws #like no wonder states are pushing for child labor again NO ONE IS EDUCATING THESE KIDS ABOUT THEIR RIGHTS. FUCK.

[lethalchiralium]

Almost | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: you guys literally persuade me so easily it’s hilarious. i’ve had this in my drafts since december LMAOOOOOOOO

warnings: doctor’s appointments, ultrasound of baby three! :) simon is NERVOUS, he is literally imploding

summary: Just a doctor’s appointment to find out baby three’s gender.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | Masterlist

“It’s not that big of a deal, Simon, sit down.”

Your voice registered in his ears but he didn’t listen, he paced in the small examination room after he had helped you onto the table…seat…thing. The medical face mask felt itchy on his face, the lights were too bright, he didn’t like having his hair not covered - he wanted to leave. Hospitals brought up a lot of trauma from previous long hospital stays after Roba, staying a few weeks with Tommy after he had overdosed and almost killed himself - and the three months Winnie was in the NICU.

To say he was uncomfortable would be an understatement.

Because he was more in his head than ever before, worrying about you non-stop since you had told him you thought you were pregnant seven weeks ago. He felt his repressed shame from missing the pregnancies of his first two daughters, now he had a third child to worry about. He felt helpless - like he didn’t know how to do this; which he didn’t really. He never did doctor appointments in the civilian world, he avoided hospitals like the plague, and he definitely did not have experience with having a pregnant wife. He was in emergency mode at all times.

You, on the other hand, were graceful. Having to go through an entire pregnancy by yourself without any support from your spouse was one of the most difficult things you have ever done - but now you had Simon. Even if he was having a mental battle with himself, knowing that he knew and that he was supporting you meant everything.

You stretched out your right hand, putting it right in his line of sight. He slowed to a stop, eyes staring at your hand. You wiggled your fingers, to which he gently took your hand in his own. His eyes met yours.

You gave him a smile. “Simon, I need you to take a breath.”

The rugged man in a black jacket sort of huffed before begrudgingly sitting in the chair beside you. You squeezed his hand and he immediately squeezed back.

“Don’t want to be here.” He immediately regretted his word choice after he spoke, his eyes looking to yours while you gazed at the white ceiling.

“I know.” You answered, hand squeezing his again. “I’ve got a lot of trauma from hospitals too.”

That really surprised him. “Really?”

“You remember Dave.” Simon nodded. “He had brain cancer when he was 12. I was 18, driving him to and from doctor’s appointments and staying with him at the Children’s Hospital because our parents had to work overtime to keep up with the bills.” Your free hand settled on your stomach. “Jake was off in the Navy by that point, Tommy was six and was staying with my grandma. Mom and Dad were always there every second they could since they were working, but it was mostly me. Slept on a pull out bed for months until he got to come home.” You kept staring at the ceiling, the image of your brother on a hospital bed, hooked up to endless wires was an image that was hard to scrub away.

“Your brother’s okay now, right?” He squeezed your hand, you looked to your husband then. He looked a lot more focused than he was earlier, his breathing a lot less rapid. You simply nodded in response. “Good. I like Dave.”

“I know.” You commented as there was a knock on the door, to which you answered, “Come in!”

In stepped your doctor, a woman with tight coils of curls tucked back into a ponytail. She wore pink scrubs with a purple stethoscope. You could tell she was smiling at you from behind the mask, “Hello, Mrs. Riley! It’s good to see you again.” She waved to you, before nodding at Simon. “I assume you’re Mr. Riley?”

“Yes.” He answered, she gave him a smile too before turning and gathering the equipment.

“How is Winnie and Melody?” She asked while you pulled up your shirt.

“Perfect as always.” You squeezed Simon’s hand then. “Mellie’s getting too big for me to carry, and she’s walking now.”

“Walking already? She’ll be outrunning Winnie before you know it. Gel’s cold, sorry.” The doctor commented before putting the gel on, making you take in a soft gasp. Simon squeezed your hand then, you looked to him and gave him a reassuring smile, mouthing, I’m okay.

“Alright, off the bat...” She noted, moving the little wand around after she had placed it on your stomach. “Want to know the sex or wait like last time?”

Your gaze moved from Simon to the screen then back to him, watching at his eyes settled on you, not on the screen. “Up to you.”

Simon’s eyebrows furrowed. “No, you’re the one growing a baby here. You choose.”

You gave him a sharp glare then. “Simon, pick now or I will make you re-gutter my house.”

“Doesn’t scare me. You choose.”

“Simon, I will only say it once more.” Your hand moved to grip his chin, nails digging into his skin a little. “You put the baby in there. Choose. Now.”

He sighed, knowing that you wouldn’t budge. He looked around you to the doctor. “Yes.”

She nodded and looked back to the screen, moving the little wand as you and Simon watched it too. He took your hand again, squeezing it before kissing the side of your cheek through his mask.

“Well, let’s see - ten fingers,” She hummed a little as you held your breath. “Ten toes…” She gasped a little before looking to the both of you, moving the wand back before pointing to its heart. “That is your baby boy’s heart, beating nice and strong, mama.”

“A boy.” You beamed, a smile wide on your face. “Simon, a boy.”

Simon put your hand against his mouth, you could feel him kiss your hand again through the mask. His eyes had softened, watching the screen as the little heart beat - something in his chest squeezed his own heart, and for the first time in his life, he wished to never forget this feeling. The light tingling in his chest, the heat that felt like sunshine, and the way one little picture took his breath away.

“Any names yet?” The doctor broke the small silence, looking to you but you had shook your head.

“He gets to be home the whole pregnancy, so he gets to name him.” You settled your other hand on the top of your stomach, absentmindedly rubbing it. “Felt bad he didn’t get to name Mellie.”

“Mellie? That’s such a cute nickname.” The doctor smiled, you nodded.

You looked at your husband, seeing how tears had collected in his eyes. You squeezed his hand, turning back to your doctor. “Can we two pictures?”

The doctor nodded, “I’ll be right back with them.”

Simon put that picture in the breast pocket of his uniform the next day. He definitely did not show Price as soon as he walked through the door. He definitely did not show Gaz next, who bear hugged his friend, saying, “My godbaby!”

Soap definitely did not start screaming, “You’re gonnae send Mini Ghost aftae me!”

———

part two may or may not make a lot of you cry and hate me lollolololol

———

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley x afab!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x wife!reader #simon riley #simon riley cod #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium

[sweetnsour1]

11:20

Fluff, Bakugou x fem reader

“I think you’ve got enough at home.”

You shook your head, an instinctive negation as you kept your eyes on the table in front of you, searching for something less floral and more…”not if you’re gonna be on mission for two weeks.” You grabbed a third pack of incense, finally settling on a few scents that’d be closest.

He raised an eyebrow as you paused at the corner of the display, grabbing a fourth scent. “You tryna burn the house down while I’m gone?”

“Aren’t you the only one who’s set off the smoke detectors?”

“That was one time.” You checked his pout and flush, before turning away again with a smile.

“Told those idiots I didn’t want a surprise party.” He brought his red eyes down from their eye roll to see you now had six boxes. “But seriously, planning my funeral?”

“Wouldn’t we be getting confetti instead? Thought you wanted a parade for that?”

“Obviously, it’s important to let the city grieve their favorite hero.” He held out his hand, easily taking hold of what had been in your arms into his palm. “Seriously though, why so much?”

It was your turn to pout as you fumbled away to grab a new lighter. You startled at his breath against your neck. “Come on, brat. Tell me.” You shook him off, only to turn and have a heavy palm covering up the glare you tried to send him. “Don’t look at me like that until we get home, beautiful.”

“You started it.” You hissed as your hands moved to protect your neck. His hand slid down, poking at the air you had chipmunked into your cheeks.

“Tell me. Ya know I’m gonna get annoying.”

“You’ll be more annoying if I tell you.”

“Oh?” You stepped back as he moved toward you.

“Wait, I didn’t mean it. It’s nothing, I swear.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothin’.” His next step stopped short as a clerk rounded the corner.

“Are you two still finding everything alright?”

“Yep, thank you. I’m actually ready to check out.” You slid the incense from Katsuki’s grip as you followed the employee to the front of the store.

Check out was almost as usual. No matter how fast you tried to be, his phone was scanned before you could grab yours to pay. However, there was a noticeable absence of him chuckling as you tried to beat him. No attempts of him to touch or poke at you as you finished. Just a silent reach for the incense you didn’t need a bag for.

You felt your temper rising. The bastard was actually gonna try moping about it? You couldn’t remember him using this method before. Had he picked it up from Todoroki?

Halfway into leaving the parking lot, and you couldn’t take it. The weird fussy silence from him was unsettling. He normally had no problem badgering you or letting it go. This in-between was awful.

“Oh my god. Fine!” The car stopped as he looked at you with wide eyes. “It’s because you’ll be gone and my house won’t-“ you mumbled the rest of the words into your sleeve as you turned to stare out at the window.

“Your house won’t what?”

“Smell.”

“I make your house…smell?”

“Yes.”

“Oh…sorry.”

You flinched at the soft pain in his voice. The words had tumbled out of you sharper than you’d intended, only to be misunderstood. You did your best to climb over the obstacle that was the ever-growing knot of your embarrassment. You tried again, speaking slowly and more carefully.

“Ughhh, no…no, I mean it won’t smell…like you when you’re gone.”

“Yea I get it, I’ll shower before coming over from work. Sorry, beautiful.” You batted away the hand trying to pat your head.

“No, idiot. I mean these come close…to smelling like…you.” His hand froze in the space between you as his sad smile morphed into an infuriatingly wide grin.

“Ohhh? So I shouldn’t ever shower after work?”

“Well, don’t be gross about it.” You moved his hand back to the steering wheel. He laughed, but resumed driving.

“I mean I could roll around on the rugs before I leave if you want.”

“You’re the worst.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look anywhere else but out the window, so you almost didn’t hear the softer words float toward you…barely more audible than the music playing from your phone to his car.

“I’ll miss you too.”

Masterlist

#bakugou drabble #bnha fluff #bnha bakugou #Bakugou #bakugou katsuki #Katsuki #Bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #bakugou imagines #bnha

[lonelywhalien22]

ten seconds to midnight

pairing: jungkook x gn reader

rating/genre: second chance, fluff + sprinkle of angst or angst + sprinkle of fluff idk lol

summary: it's new year’s eve and you see your ex jungkook again for the first time since you broke up with him.

warnings: time and location are abstract af in this fic so don’t try to piece together distances or a timeline from anything in this; I wrote it in a more poetic fashion – it’s just a *vibe* if you will lol

word count: 4.6k

song(s) to listen to while reading: tis the damn season by taylor swift, ruin by shawn mendes, new year’s day by taylor swift

note: cleaned this up to share while I edit my next longfic – this is something sweet with a sprinkle of midnight angst. if you happen to enjoy this fic you’ll probably like what I have coming next so stay tuned. happy new year’s everyone and i’ll see you all next year <3

Two years.

It had been two years since you and Jungkook had seen each other for the first time in that art history class – had studied together, hung out together, and eventually dated.

Six months.

It had been six months since you'd left suddenly. Unexpectedly.

Six months since those words were flung like daggers between the two of you, as if you’d been in a competition to see who could hurt the other more – who could prove they were less attached than the other was. Pretending as if all of those late nights, whispered confessions, soothing touches, and sweet kisses had meant nothing.

As if in some sort of war, the two of you had thrown, burned, abandoned, and trashed every last remnant of your relationship, overcompensating to try and prove that none of the feelings were real, that the vulnerability was all a lie, and that you'd actually been keeping your shields up all along.

It's the reason you moved further away than you'd originally planned after you graduated - why you’d signed on to the extra work at your job, the extra responsibilities…you’d even gotten a new phone number, claiming you wanted a completely fresh start.

It's the reason why your brief visit home during the holidays this year just wasn’t the same. Why Jungkook didn’t stop by with the rest of his family to drop off gifts or send cards. Why you no longer saw him at the store he always used to frequent at a specific time, the two of you in charge of picking up whatever your respective families had forgotten for Christmas dinner.

It seemed like you and Jungkook had finally succeeded in creating an irreparable chasm between the two of you.

So instead, you spent your short visit home for the holidays nervously traversing the town that still held memories of him. You pushed your cart through the local grocery store in a near state of paranoia, drove around town with the windows up, let others in the house open the door when you got the usual holiday greetings from family and friends.

You didn't miss him, you told yourself.

Even as you chose to go to his mom's favorite grocery store, or mindlessly drove by some of your old spots from when you two had been together - eagerly looked out the window of your old childhood bedroom whenever you heard the doorbell ring.

You didn't miss him.

Now it was New Year’s Eve, and you currently found yourself outside on a fire escape in the chilly night air, high above a city you were still getting to know, at a party you didn't want to be at, terrified to go back inside.

How exactly had that happened?

Let’s take a few steps back.

The New Year’s Eve party was one put together by some old friends from college you’d reconnected with in the area.

None of them felt particularly close, but after spending last New Year’s Eve alone in your tiny studio apartment guzzling down an entire bottle of champagne and falling asleep before the ball had even dropped, you figured you’d try getting out and doing something in the city you were trying to call home for once.

As you walked into the crowded party space, you immediately scouted out the food and beverages area - your trusty diversion ever since you’d been to your first party as an underclassman in college, terribly shy and fearful of large crowds. You could still remember the moment you’d spotted Jungkook from afar for the very first time in a cramped living room all those years ago - laughing with his friends in a corner, his eyes on you for the tiniest of milliseconds before he went back to sipping whatever was in his red solo cup. It was his hands you’d noticed first, the handful of tiny tattoos scattered across his knuckles. You’d been so surprised when he’d said hello to you in a class one semester later, even more so when he’d smiled easily as he admitted to remembering you, the mural of tattoos on his right hand having spread, two new ones on his index finger and another near his wrist.

Back in the present, you grabbed a few cookies and some water, slowly sipping on your beverage of choice as you resolved yourself to silently watching the party from a distance. You were here – that was progress enough wasn’t it?

"Y/n?" you heard someone shout your name eagerly.

You were surprised since you didn't think you knew anyone at this party all that well, but the friendliness of the voice made you perk up.

Turning your head in the direction of the voice, you recognized the owner as an old friend from back home.

"Changkyun?" you exclaimed, shocked.

You hadn’t seen him in forever. He was so tall and almost athletic in his build now, that you almost didn’t recognize him.

"Hey! Wow, long time no see!" he smiled and immediately pulled you in for a hug. It nearly squeezed the surprise right out of you.

You two began a conversation and caught up, laughing over old memories and how much you’d each changed since last seeing the other before he interjected quickly.

"Now that I think about it, pretty sure I saw someone else you know around here..." he pondered out loud, scanning the crowd before he spotted who he was looking for.

"Oh yeah, Jungkook is here. Hey JK!"  you heard Changkyun quickly shout across the crowd towards the center of the room.

Before you could even fully register the name of your ex you glanced over to where your friend was calling, instantly spotting the back of a familiar head of hair, though it was longer than you remembered, the ends curling slightly from the length.

“J-Jungkook..." you repeated quietly, eyes widening as your brain registered what was happening.

"You good?" Changkyun asked, noticing the change in your expression. "Oh shit, wait - you two were together at some point weren’t you? Did I -"

The rest of his words evaporated into nothing but muffled noise as you watched the head of your ex swivel around, searching for the source of the voice that had called his name. He was still as mesmerizing as ever - those big brown eyes and soft lips. His hair fell into his eyes as he turned, and it made your view of him both painfully nostalgic and exhilarating all at once.

He was gorgeous. Just like you remembered.

You stood frozen, eyes wide in admiration, until Jungkook���s gaze singled in on you and broke you out of your trance. Quickly his eyebrows furrowed in confusion before they lifted up softly upon recognizing you. You watched as he mouthed your name, as if he was asking himself whether or not it was really you. But it was all muddled within seconds as you realized your vision was beginning to blur. Your throat dried up and your head began to pound, and finally you realized you were about to cry.

For some inexplicable reason, you were upset.

"Damnit," you muttered to yourself, looking down, a tear slipping down your cheek against your will.

"Y/n, are you ok?" you heard Changkyun ask beside you, but you only shook your head quickly.

"I…I gotta go," you barely managed to choke out before turning away and pushing through the crowd as fast as you could. You quickly reached the front door and tumbled out, searching for the elevator before instead opting to take the stairs rather than risk standing around for any longer.

After wandering around aimlessly for a couple floors you came upon a shaky fire escape entrance and yanked open the doors, cool air slapping your face like a tide in a storm. It brought goosebumps to your skin - the chill of the night breeze, the cool steel grates that scraped against your thighs as you sat down, the hard brick of the wall against your back, but still - you found yourself grateful for the getaway.

You shimmied to the side so you couldn’t be seen from the glass door entrance and tried to make yourself comfortable in the space that remained, your legs slipping into a makeshift crisscross position. It was ridiculously cramped, and probably not at all safe, but at least it was quiet. The isolation gave you a chance to work through some of your thoughts without interruptions from annoyingly drunk partygoers.

"Why did I come here," you whispered to yourself, frustrated.

You knew how much you hated parties, and yet you'd gone anyways, only to find yourself in the very situation you’d been fearing since the holidays had come upon you – trapped with him just steps away and nowhere to run or hide.

You were terrified to face all the damage you’d left behind in your breakup with Jungkook - the stuffed closet full of baggage and hastily thrown together lies that you knew would all come tumbling down if you ever saw him again.

If you were being honest, you'd been running from this very scenario ever since you’d broken up with him. Because somehow, after all this time, he still wouldn't leave your head - his smile, the sound of his laugh, the way he could be incredibly cute but could also make you completely flustered at the flip of a switch.

The way he’d felt like a best friend, a confidante, and a lover all at the same time. How he’d made you feel so loved in a way only he could.

You had searched for that same feeling in others, from the occasional coworker to the random blind date, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn't get yourself to fall out of love with him. And deep down, you think you always knew it. You'd be lying if you said there wasn't some part of you that saw a piece of him in everything you did and everywhere you went. You just couldn't lie to yourself anymore – not after seeing how you'd reacted from just seconds of seeing him in person again.

You took a few deep breaths, staring out at the lights and bustle of the city as your finger trailed longingly up and down one of the steel bars that separated you from the open air. Funny how the rest of the world just continued to go on, even when it felt like your little corner of it was being shaken to no end like a snow globe in a child’s hands.

But watching all the cars and pedestrians below carrying on with their lives – it also helped you put your worries into perspective - helped you keep calm.

Suddenly, your thoughts were interrupted by the cracking open of the fire escape door.

Please don't be a couple, please don’t be a couple, you thought to yourself. The last thing you needed were some handsy lovebirds interrupting your ruminations and reminding you of your own failures in the relationship department.

"Y/n?" you heard someone whisper softly. "Y/n, you out there?"

You’d recognize that voice anywhere - warm and soothing when it was singing along to a song on the radio, smooth and sweet like caramel when it was directed towards you, and immediately your body tensed.

The voice continued to call your name again and again, and you could hear his footsteps shuffling around closer and closer to you in the dark. Folding into yourself and squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed he didn’t notice you, or maybe he’d think you were some stranger - turn around and leave you out here all alone like you thought you wanted.

The footsteps continued until you heard the door open one last time, someone mumbling something too far away for you to hear before banging it shut again. You figured he didn't see you, deciding to look elsewhere, and your shoulders relaxed again.

"Didn't think I’d see you here," you suddenly heard loud and clear.

"Fuck," you shouted, too spooked to really think about it before your reflexes kicked in and you jumped, quickly turning towards the voice. "I thought I was alone out h-"

As soon as you looked up you saw that it was your ex. He stood feet away, one hand still lingering on the fire escape entrance.

"Jungkook."

You mumbled his name, aggravated as he raised a brow at your rare curse.

Quickly, you angled yourself back towards the view of the skyline, shaking your head profusely as you attempted to make him go away.

"I don't wanna see you."

"Believe me, this wasn't really how I pictured spending my night either," he retorted, and you couldn’t even lie - the words felt like a cold knife straight to your heart.

He took just one tiny step forward, hand falling from the rusted metal handle of the door.

"I couldn't just let you go off crying though."

"I wasn't crying," you spat out. It was your roughest voice yet, but Jungkook didn’t even flinch.

"You're still shit at lying," he said with a smirk instead. "We may not be together anymore, but I can still recognize the face you make when you're about to cry."

You wished he’d elaborate so you could practice never making that face again, but he just stood still, glancing back through the window. It both annoyed the heck out of you and made your heart flutter, knowing he could still read you like that.

He took another few steps towards you. Like a giant, his stature towered over you as he continued to stand, his feet careful not to step on your fingers.

"Anyways, you left this," he suddenly said, a chunk of metal entering your view. It was your phone.

How that happened, you had no idea. You must have placed it on a nearby table as you ate, distracted by you conversation with Changkyun. You grabbed it swiftly, careful not to touch his hand in any way, but you still couldn’t help but notice the decorative ink that now danced all over his fingers, the way his skin reddened in the cold.

Did he notice you still used the phone case he’d bought you for your birthday?

"Thanks," you told him curtly instead, avoiding his gaze.

You kept quiet, expecting him to finally go away now that he’d returned your phone but instead the silence lingered, Jungkook’s feet shuffling awkwardly.

“Come back inside Y/n,” he said, tone gentle, the edges of his jawline softening.

“Why?”

Jungkook looked down, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Changkyun’s worried about you,” he mumbled eventually. “…and besides, it’s dangerous - sitting out here all alone like that.”

“I’ll be fine. No need to worry about me.”

You could feel his frustration brewing as he looked at you in silent incredulity, a cloudy huff leaving his lips in the night air before you felt him sit right down beside you. His denim-clad knee scraped yours just faintly as he settled into a comfortable position. Together the two of you took up nearly all the space on the tiny ledge.

"You want a drink?" Jungkook offered coolly, a cup of red liquid seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

It was tempting, but you hesitated. After all, you weren’t looking to get inebriated while on a shaky fire escape with your ex nearby to bear witness to some sort of embarrassing, drunken confession of longing. You generally preferred to stay sober anyways.

"It's just cranberry juice,” he told you, as if he could read your mind. “They have a bunch of it to mix with the cocktails."

Fuck.

Not only did he remember how much you hated alcohol, but also that cranberry juice was your favorite?

"You're the only person I've ever met who drinks that stuff," he used to always joke.

Back in the present, you took the cup from his hands, finally looking at him to search his face briefly, but his expression gave nothing away. You took a sip to busy yourself.

A blanket of silence fell between you. It wasn’t awkward or even necessarily tense, but it didn't feel like it was truly quiet either. Instead, it was more like there were a bunch of unsaid words bouncing around between the two of you, trying but failing to break out.

"What're you thinking about?" Jungkook asked innocently, looking down at one of his hands before focusing back on the view of the city skyline.

"Nothing," you shook your head tersely, only to hear the tiniest of hums escape his lips out of disbelief.

"So you're outside all alone, staring at the sky in the freezing cold and nothing's wrong? You sure about that?"

You closed your eyes, more and more memories rushing back to you – like the times Jungkook used to find you alone out on the campus green, just sitting with the palm of your hand pressed against your cheek, pouting as you stared at some point in the clouds. Or how he used to poke you on the nose whenever you laid your head in his lap and stared into space, that same pensive look on your face. His words were always the same every single time.

"What're you thinking about?"

It was beginning to drive you crazy the more you thought about it – how, even after all this time apart, he was still able to pick up on little things like that.

And it made you feel even crazier when you thought about the fact that you still remembered those little things about him too.

Trying to keep yourself from becoming any more affected by his words, you tried a slightly more aggressive approach.

"Well maybe I would be fine if I was actually alone."

But he only turned to face you at that remark, another deep sigh escaping his lips.

"Y/n/n.." he used your nickname this time, and he sounded regretful, like your words had actually stung. "Look, I just wanna make sure you're ok."

"I'm am ok," you said back harshly.

Another bout of silence fell between you at that – this one like a cascade of bricks instead of a gentle blanket.

"Why are you acting like I'm the one who did you wrong?" Jungkook piped up, exasperation inching into his voice.

"Last time I checked, I told you I wanted to be left alone."

"You know that's not what I'm talking about,” he said, undeterred by your attempt to change the subject.

You didn’t respond immediately, not ready to talk about your breakup out in the open.

You weren’t sure you'd ever be ready.

"I told you I wanted to experience other places…" you started after a minute or so, quieter than expected. "You know I never wanted to stay so close to home."

"And I get that, but one week?" Jungkook asked incredulously. "How could you only tell me a week before you left? I thought I meant more to you than that."

You huffed out loud in frustration, unsure how to respond.

It was true - you did tell Jungkook about your big move only seven days before you left. You did it out of fear.

Because you were scared.

You and Jungkook had gotten so close after only two years, and you’d never felt that way about a person before - you’d never felt in love.

It scared you - especially when you thought that maybe you were just getting too attached, too quickly.

If there was one thing you hated, it was dependency. Needing someone else felt like an indefensible weakness, and you were afraid that being with him, needing him, would only hold you back.

All you’d wanted was some space to cool off and clear your head - evaluate how you felt from a distance in solitude, like you always did when you felt overwhelmed by your emotions. When you finally did tell Jungkook about the move, you were hoping you two would just dial things down a little - keep in touch remotely while you took some time to think about your life post-graduation.

But instead, the whole thing had turned into one big shouting match.

Hurtful words had been thrown like weapons on both sides, and by the time the dust had settled, you were driving hundreds of miles away.

You’d ignored his calls, deleted his texts, and even refused to listen to appeals from your mother, who still kept in touch with his family. Distancing yourself away from him had only made your worst fears become a reality, and in turn made it even easier to run away from it all rather than confront your fears head on.

Avoidance was the only way you knew how to approach things that were hard - uncomfortable.

And maybe that's why you were sitting here on this damn fire escape in the first place.

"I just wanted some space," you defended yourself.

"But so suddenly? Was there something I did wrong?" he asked you dejectedly.

You turned to look Jungkook in his eyes, and behind his seemingly calm face you could see real pain. You really had hurt him, and in that moment you wished you could tell him the truth – that he hadn't done anything wrong. He'd done everything right, but you just hadn't known how to deal with the intensity of your feelings.

"Did you really have to change your number? Pretend like I didn't even exist?" Jungkook spoke up again.

"That's not fair," you shook your head. "You really hurt me with your words when I finally did tell you."

"Because you broke my heart," he exclaimed, getting visibly upset. "You told me you never loved me - that all of those memories, all those moments we shared...” he looked down for a moment. “You said none of it mattered. That I’d ‘taken it the wrong way.’"

"I didn't mean any of that," you blurted out loud.

"That's what I told myself," Jungkook started, "but what was I supposed to think when you completely cut me out of your life?"

You sniffled silently, unable to come up with any more excuses.

Simply put, you’d both really hurt each other.

As you focused back on all the lights down below, legs beginning to cramp, you felt a curtain of warmth envelop your shoulders.

Jungkook had draped his denim jacket across your body. You couldn’t help but fixate on how the fabric was soft and worn, and it smelled just like him - that same combo of body wash and cologne that you still couldn’t erase from your memory.

"Are you two dating?" you heard him ask quietly.

"What?" you asked, confused before putting two and two together. "Me and Changkyun? No…"

The question took you aback. What did it matter to him anyways?

"I came alone and ran into him unexpectedly," you explained further. "Why are you here?"

"An old classmate invited me," he told you casually, contemplating his next words for a moment before continuing. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping that maybe I'd see you though..."

You felt your heartbeat quicken at the casual admission, but you didn’t have much time to think about what it meant as he smoothly moved on.

"What about you? I thought you hated parties."

You sighed, hesitant to be so honest but feeling a strange sense of courage regardless.

"Well normally I do, but last New Year’s just...wasn’t all that great," you started.

"How so?"

You took a deep breath before continuing, counting off the reasons on your fingers. "Well, I was alone. And it sucked. I didn't even make it to midnight before I just fell asleep. So I decided this year I'd try going out instead."

"And how's it going?" Jungkook asked, the tiniest hint of a twinkle in his eye. “Tonight, I mean.”

Was he flirting with you right now?

"Not sure yet…" you played along, "but I'm still awake so that's a plus."

Again you sat quietly for a few minutes, neither of you making a move, not a single word shared between the two of you. This time the silence was comforting. You became hyper aware of his knee brushing against your own, and your insides felt so warm that suddenly the cold air didn’t faze you at all.

Maybe, just maybe…

Your quiet stalemate was interrupted when the fire escape door slammed open and the sound of drunken giggles grew louder and louder, a shaggy head of hair sticking itself outside to ogle at the two of you.

"Oh, shoot, looks like this one's taken babe," the random guy shouted in a slurred voice.

"Well hurry up and find somewhere else, I can't wait any loooonger," some poor girl whined, just as tipsy.

They disappeared as quickly as they came, the door shutting with a bang, and you and Jungkook couldn't help but burst out into laughter.

"Was their plan to screw each other on the balcony?" you heard him utter your exact thoughts aloud. Not so innocent memories crept into your mind for a split second before you squashed them.

He's still your ex, you reminded yourself.

"Not sure,” you said instead with a chuckle, “but it certainly looks like we’ve reached that point in the evening where I typically remove myself from the situation."

You pulled your phone out to check the time. "It's midnight,” you realized.

You two had been out there together for over half an hour.

"Guess that means it's time to go, huh?" you heard him ask.

"Yeah…"

Neither of you moved to get up though.

You weren’t expecting to still be with Jungkook at this point, and suddenly you were unsure of what to do. How did one say goodbye to an ex?

How did you say goodbye when you didn't want to?

"Y/n?" Jungkook said your name, pulling you out of your thoughts. You looked at him with bated breath, urging him to continue as fireworks began to go off in the distance.

"Um…" he stalled, clearly trying to find the right thing to say next.

Hating the silence, you improvised, taking off his jacket to give back. The warmth that previously enveloped you disappeared immediately, and it left you feeling strangely empty.

"Here, let me give you back your jacket before I forget."

"Oh…yeah, thanks," he said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

As he leaned over to grab it, you quickly kissed his cheek before backing away and looking down, brushing the hair out of your face.

"Sorry if that was weird," you started, "but I just…wanted to apologize. For everything I put you through back then."

To your surprise, Jungkook shifted a little closer to you, lips pulled into a soft smile as he shook his head. "You don't deserve all the blame. We both said things we shouldn't have, and I'm sorry too."

Butterflies burst free in your belly, and the fireworks that lit up the sky seemed to form a faint outline around Jungkook’s head as he stared at you, eyes boring into your own, keeping you frozen in place.

His hand slipped into yours lightly, and you looked at them for a split second, fingers intertwined in warmth as he spoke. Slowly but surely, you felt yourself drawn towards him in a familiar lure, like a moth to a flame.

Like a wanderer finding their way back home.

"Any chance we could just pretend like it's ten seconds to midnight again?" you asked shyly, and he instantly cracked the biggest smile you’d seen from him all night.

Jungkook said nothing, instead leaning in to kiss you gently.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts fluff

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - The Houseguest (Part 2)

Summary - A three part series where the reader and family goes on a chaotic holiday with Ruben as their guests.

Enjoy

Yeah, last night was most definitely a dream. You woke up the next day and Ruben was nowhere to be find and no one in your family had even heard of him.

"He's like 6 feet, braud shoulders."

"Sounds like you dreamt that shit."

"Anita." Your mother slapped your sisters hands.

"Ouch Mamãe. Whatchu do that for?"

"Don't make your sister feel bad for having wet dreams."

"It wasn't a wet dream." You groaned.

"Wet dream? Who's having wet dreams?" Tomas overheard your conversation upon entering the kitchen. He was shirtless and you would be impressed by the fact that he has been working out, if it wasn't for Ruben. Last night wasn't a dream, there was a six foot man making laps in the pool. He was as tall as a tree and had the most handsome eyes/abs.

"Y/N. She says Bernardo's friend woke her up last night swimming around the pool."

"Bernardo's friend?" Tomas frowned. "Wasn't he supposed to arrive later today?"

"Exactly. Bernardo is probaly picking him up as we speak. Stop watching wierd movies before bed Y/N. You'll have less wet dreams, trust me. "

"I give up." You sighed. "No one believes me anyway."

"There there, let's not argue about who is right or wrong." Your mom said. "Your father wants us to meet him at the yacht festival down by the marina."

"Don't tell me he's buying a boat?" You said.

"No, your father just likes to dream. We will be joining him for lunch."

It was the perfect day for it. The sun was out and a lot of people roamed the Portimão marina. You couldn't help feeling like a third wheel though. Your mother and father walked ahead, arm and arm, whilst your sister and Tomas went off to have their pictures taken in front of a giant yacht. What's so impressive about a boat the same size as a house?

"Psst... Y/N." Somone hissed.

"Huh?" You shifted your head but to no use.

"Overhere."

"Where?"

You were talking to a ghost. It almost sounded like the voice was coming from above you.

"Look up!"

You raised your head to see "Ruben?" hanging off the railings of one of the boats.

"Care to join me?" He smiled.

"You're real!" You wanted to exclaim. "What are you doing here, on this boat? Is it yours?"

You came around the large fleet. Ruben waited to assist you to hop on.

"My uncles actually." He said, stretching out a hand, helping you cross the bridge from the docks.

"Why is it here, parked on the docks? Is it appart of the festival?"

"No, actually it's kind of my way of helping your brother out."

"Help Bernardo? How?"

"Well..." Ruben's smile looked devious. "Turns out this mystery girl of his has expensive taste in men and...."

"Let's me guess." You interrupted. "Bernardo is pretending to be the owner of this boat."

"Oh, he's told you of his plan?"

"No, but I know my brother." You sighed.

"Good, then you know that..."

Emerging, voices interrupted.

"But Pãi, wouldn't you rather enjoy lunch in a nice restaurant than on a boat?"

"No."

"But Pãi."

It sounded like your dad and...

"Bernardo?"

"Y/N?"

"Ruben?"

"Mr Silva."

It was a bit of a mess, with your dad pushing past you to get to Ruben, greeting him like an old friend.And then there was Bernardo, looking a bit stressed to see you on the boat.

"What are you doing here?" He hissed.

"I'm..." You didn't get to finish your sentence until more voices emerged on the boat. This time it was your mother, Anita and Tomas.

"Where did you go Pãi?" Your mother said, breathless from climbing the stairs onto the top deck.

"I told you I spotted Bernie by the docks and look, it was him." Your dad said.

"What's going on and who's he?" Said Anita, pointing to Ruben.

The top deck of the boat was getting really crowded now, something that made your brother more and more anxious.

"Okay, everyone listen up!" He shouted. "I'm suppose to meet a friend for lunch in about five minutes, so can all of you please get off this boat, like now?"

"Friend? What friend?" Your family exchange confused looks.

"I thought you were having lunch with us?" You mother looked quite hurt by the betrayal.

"No, Mamãe. I told you and dad to meet me at the restaurant, after lunch."

"After lunch?" Your dad snorted. "I'm staying, I wanna have lunch on a boat."

"Then I'm staying too." Your mother said, locking arms with your father.

"Me too." Said Anita, which didn't give Tomas much of a choice.

"Alright, alright, alright!" Bernardo looked to want to pull out his hair. "You can all stay. But when my friend, who also happens to be the love of my life..."

"What!" Your family gasped in unison. Ruben however, turned his head for us not to see him chuckle.

Bernardo rolled his eyes. "When she gets here you all have to play along and say that this boat belongs to me and not Ruben's uncle."

"That's Ruben?" Your sister said, her eyes gazing him up and down. She then looked to you.

"Told you." You grimaced.

"Yes. That's Ruben. Ruben meet my family. My parents, two sisters and their boyfriend Tomas."

"Ex!" You hissed

"Right, right. My sisters boyfriend and my other sisters ex boyfriend. We're a fucked up family, I know. Either way. Five minutes guys. Mamãe, Anita, help me set the table. Y/N, help dad bring the food out and Ruben tell the captain to prepare to get this boat off shore."

It was bizarre, Bernardo bossing everyone around for the sake of sceaming some poor woman. But what didn't you do for your family?

Once his mystery woman arrived you were all off to an exclusive trip on Ruben's uncles luxurious yacht.

"I didn't know you had such a big family Bernie." Bernardo's woman said. Upon meeting her you took back the thought of her being poor in any kind of way, because this woman wore designer from top to bottom. Even her red toe nails were painted with Dior nailpolish. No wonder Bernardo felt the need to lie about his middle class upbringing.

"You okay? You look nauseous?"

The only good thing about this unscheduled boat trip is that you got to sit next to Ruben. He often leaned in to whisper funny comments about this whole situation. Somthing that made Anita but specially Tomas, throw irritating glances your way.

"I'm fine. It must be Bernardo and his lies that's got me feeling bubbly."

You thought that would make Ruben laugh, however he kept looking at you with a serious expression.

"Or you could be getting sea sick." He said. The way his eyes held yours made you blush.

"Pass the chicken, will you?"

Somone kicked your foot underneath the table. Anita. "Ouch." You wheezed. "Whachu do that for?"

"Pass me the salt, will you?"

She was too short to reach it and so you passed it to Tomas instead. For some reason he avoided your gaze, looking over your shoulder to where Ruben sat. Perhaps it was because his arm rested around your chair, making it  look like you two were a couple in front of Bernardo's woman She even made a comment about it.

"So cute. How long have you two been together?"

Perhaps Ruben had caught on the dirty looks thrown your way because he was more than happy to play along.

"Two years." He said, moving his arm to really rest around your shoulder. "I was planning on buying her a ring by the end of this month."

"What?" Your sister gasped.

"Honey?" Your mother said concerned, thinking you had been hiding things from her. Your dad however just found it very amusing. Apparently he knew Ruben and his family very well, something that felt really reassuring to you.

"Some more wine meu amor?" Bernardo said, afraid that his cover would be ruined if we all got to comfortable about things.

"No, wine. I wanna hear more about this not so unexpected proposal." His woman, which name was a Russian one that you couldn't quite pronounce, said. "I love weddings."

"Um...well." She really put you on the spot. Good thing Ruben was a better lier than you.

"We're crazy about each other. No point in beating around the bush. I want to merry her."

"But..." Anita cried, however, sudden movment underneath the table indicated that Bernado gave her leg a kick. To your amusement of course.

"A man that knows what he wants. I like it." The woman said.

"I know what I want." Bernardo said, raising his hand.

Once the conversation switched to dogs and golden beaches Ruben leaned in to whisper again. "You sure you're alright, you look really pale."

Maybe he was right. The air around you seemed to get a bit heated. And so both you ad Ruben excused yourself so that you could get to the leeward side of the ship, where the wind blew less. You leaned your body over the railing incase you'd throw up. Ruben however made sure to keep you steady I'm his arms, preventing you from falling over board.

"What's going on here?"

At one point Anita came looking for you. It wouldn't surprise you if she thought you and Ruben had snuck off to get a quicky in somewhere.

"I think she's sea sick." He said.

"Sea sick?" Your sister frowned but took over Ruben's position of holding you steady.

"I'll go talk to the captain, see if he can turn us back around." Ruben said, disappearing somewhere around the corner.

"You good?" Your sister said, patting your back.

"No." You said, spitting out the bad taste in your mouth.

"You know, if this is your plan to make Tomas jealous or something, it is not working."

"What?" You looked up from the railing and couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"Oh please, I see the way you try to flirt with Ruben in front of him. It's pathetic."

"I don't know what your talking about." You muttered.

"No? Either way he is so out of your leauge."

"Excuse me."

"Y/N?" Said Bernardo. If he, Ruben and the rest of your family hadn't come around deck, you might have thrown Anita to the sharks.

"You okay sis?" He said, finally dropping the rich kid act, to be the brother that you knew and loved.

"Do I look okay?" You sighed. The sea sickness was getting worser and worser with the wind that was picking up. Grey clouds roamed the skies, perhaps there was a storm coming?

"Ruben said that the captain wants us to dock at the next Island, stay there til the storm blows over."

"And when is that?" Anita said, folding her arms with the cold breeze.

"Could be later tonight. But Ruben guesses that it won't ware off until morning."

"Morning?" She frowned. "So we're staying overnight on this boat?"

"There is room for everybody." Ruben assured.

"Yay, a sleepover. I love sleep overs. " Bernardo's woman cheered. "Show me to our room baby."

Bernardo was more than happy to.

"But where are we sleeping?" Anita asked.

"What do you mean." Bernardo frowned. He spoke between clenched teeth. " Do I need to remind you about you position in this?" By position he meant his little lie. "Devide the rooms by couples. Pãi and Mamãe. You and Tomas and Y/N and Ruben."

"Y/N can't stay with Ruben." Anita frowned, behind her Tomas looked to want to utter the same thing.

Bernardo however was being torn by his womans eagerness to get to her room and his baggage of a family. "Of course she can, their about to be engaged." He winked and off he went with his girlfriend, leaving you in a very awkward position with your family.

"Mr Silva I...."

Your dad just shook his head when Ruben spoke, silencing him. "The walls are thin on this boat, rember that son."

"Yes, sir."

"Dad." You groaned. It couldn't get anymore disturbing.

"Pãi." Anita spoke up. "You can't seriously let her share rooms with this man. I mean she barely knows him."

"Nitty, your sister is sick, let her rest." He said, to everyone's surprise.

"Mamãe?" Anita turned to your mother, desperate for her to do something about this.

"Your father is right. Y/N needs to rest." She said.

"But...she's...and he's...

You felt a warm hand caress your back. It was Ruben, helping you up to get you inside. This day really took a turn for the worst, even for your family.

#fanfiction #man city #manchester city #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias x reader #football imagine #footballer x reader #football angst #footballer imagine #football x reader #football #fluff

[quillsareswords]

How about a Damian x reader where the reader is friends with Jon and even though she doesn’t like him, Damian gets jealous and it ends in him confessing. And maybe a kiss 🤔🤔🤔🤔

A/N: ...these were all supposed to be under like 400 words...I looked up six hours and 2,520 words later and here we are. anyway sry no kith bc I didn't feel like it 💅

WARNINGS: misunderstanding, language, argument, raised voices

MASTER LIST in BIO

   You're nicer to Jon than anybody else you work with, including him. You go out of your way to talk to Jon. You ask him if he wants anything from the vending machine. You laugh at his awful puns.

   He hates to say it irritates him, because Jon is a very kind person, and he deserves the same treatment. He deserves soft touch and secret jokes and a bright smile.

   He deserves you. Out of everyone in the room at one of these inane hero mixers, Jon deserves you most.

   Despite this, the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

(Nevermind that you pick him immediately for missions, or that you already know what he wants from the vending machine and you memorized how he takes his coffee, or that you're the only one who laughs when he cracks the darkest joke anyone in the room can stomach. That probably means nothing.)

   He plants himself in the farthest corner of the room and sulks. He catches your eyes a few too many times, so he looks anywhere else. At anyone else.

   He decided a few weeks ago that avoiding you would be for the best. Hopefully, his feelings for you would wither without the sunlight of your presence. Hopefully, the bright petals of his heart would lose some vibrance and stop distracting his brain.

   It's a ridiculous hope, really. It's been months since he realized these feelings, and he hasn't yet seen a day he wanted you any less. At this rate, he's positive he could lock himself away on the other side of the planet for a few years and still be able to pick your voice out of a crowd.

   He'd tried to show you. In his own, roundabout way. He'd let you catch him staring. He'd seek you out when he could. He'd try to brush his hand against yours when you walked together. He wrote embarrassing poetry and hid them among your things. He did things he had seen in movies where the guy always gets the girl, because he didn't know what else to do.

   He did everything he could do, except tell you to your face. He tried, once. He could bring himself to do it. He'll never admit fear, but he didn't like to think about what would happen if you didn't feel the same way.

    "What are you brooding about now?"

   He jerks, scowling already. "Nothing," he snaps. "I'm not brooding."

   He very intentionally doesn't look at you, leaning against the wall beside him, but he does catch your reaction. He doesn't have to see you to hear the pause in your breathing, the hesitation before you reply. He's surprised you. He's not normally so curt with you for no reason, and you both know that. If he focuses, he can feel the quick once-over you give him, as if you could find that reason somewhere on his person.

   "Drag of a party, isn't it?" you try again. "I tried to sneak you one of those little breadsticks at the snack bar, but I think Impulse would've bitten me."

   (He had seen you, actually. Superboy at your side, chattering about something he couldn't hear, you'd skulked around, waiting for an opening, but Impulse was prepared to die defending those breadsticks. He must have skipped breakfast.)

   He doesn't reply. He keeps his arms crossed, continues staring past the clusters of chattering superheroes, out the Watchtower windows. If this had been weeks ago, he would have brushed it off and told you that he'd fight for them himself if he got hungry.

   You're a strong person. You've drawn lines in the sand for yourself. If you don't like the way someone treats you, you'll avoid them as much as you possibly can. You won't stand around and take it. You told him that much to his face the first time you met him: be nice to be, I'll be nice to you; pull that attitude with me again and I'll let the next guy shoot you in the face. It's how you treat everyone. He respected you for it, which is how you wedged yourself into his good graces in the first place.

   Therefore, if he goes out of his way to upset you now, you'll avoid him too.

   There's that bitter taste again.

   "Is everything okay?" You lean forward, trying to get within his line of sight, or to get a better look at his face. "Seems like you're in a worse mood than usual."

   "It's no business of yours," he grunts. "Go find someone else to pester."

   At the very edge of his vision, your expression ripples. His resolve does, too. You take a moment before you speak again. "Did I piss you off?"

   No. You never piss me off. I'd rather talk to you for a day than anyone else for a lifetime. He swallows.

   "Listen, if you had a bad morning or something–"

   "I thought I told you to find anyone else to bother."

   Bother is a low blow and he knows it. You had a boyfriend last summer who'd called you that just before you broke it off with him. You confided just how much it stung to Damian after he caught you sniffling on a rooftop in Gotham.

   He thinks it might have been too far, but isn't that the point? To jab at you just enough that you abandon all efforts at a friendship with him?

   Your grip on his arm catches him off guard, and you take the opportunity to drag him to one of the doors at either end of the room.

   You shove him out into the empty hall and make sure the steel slab latches behind you. "What is your problem?" you demand, planting yourself between him and the door.

   "I don't know what you're talking about–"

  "Don't play stupid, I know you aren't." Your tone is metallic in his ears, cold and hard. "You're being a dick. I wanna know why."

   He is being a dick. "I am not."

   You stare at him. He meets it head on, and realizes that it's the first time in the entire conversation that he's looked at you.

   You're good at hiding things from people. You've got a knack for screaming internally and looking bored externally. It doesn't matter what the situation is, you always look like you've got it all under control.

   He can see in that one look that you definitely aren't. Your breath is quicker than normal, your eyes are fractions wider, your posture is off-center. Your expression is wide open, waiting to receive whatever excuse he lobbies at you. You're distraught about this.

   A realization lodges in his throat. Either you're so upset by him that you can't mask it, or you trust him enough that you aren't holding up that mask at all.

   He looks away. Shakes his head. "I don't have time for this."

   "Oh, what? Have a busy day of standing alone in a corner and staring off into the distance?" You cross your arms. "If you didn't feel like being pestered, why did you bother showing up?"

   It wasn't his choice, actually. He knew you'd be here. His father tricked him anyway. Told him it was, League business, won't take more than an hour. You wanted to see the Watchtower again anyway, right?

   You don't give him time to respond. "If you have a problem with me, say that. Don't talk to me like I'm some idiot who can't take a hint. Especially in front of a bunch of coworkers."

   "Fine; I have a problem."

"Great, fantastic! He does have a problem." with you." You throw your hands up like you've just discovered the cure to dementia. "What's the problem, Wayne?"

   He glares at you. You don't look so out of sorts now, so he holds it. "I'm sure you'd like to know."

   You set your hands on your hips. "Well I'd like to know if I can fix it."

   So would I. "You want to fix it?" He starts heatedly, scraping together some barbed speech about how you're too focused on what others think of you, but you beat him.

   "Yes!" Your expression opens again, like clouds parting for sunlight—except, instead of brightness, he only sees the near-desperate eyes of a woman trying to salvage a friendship she didn't even know was crumbling. "You're one of my best friends, Damian. I don't want to lose you over something stupid if I don't have to."

   One of my best friends. One of. Friends. He hangs on your every word, loses sleep over the slightest touch, forgets where he is when he looks into your eyes for too long—and he doesn't even rank at the top of your list. He's not your best friend or your boyfriend. He's one of a few.

   On any other day, he'd take a deep breath and remind himself that you don't owe him anything. It's his problem that he did the stupid thing and fell– caught feelings, not yours.

   But today? It sets him off.

   "I suppose it bothers you so much. Don't you have anywhere better to be? I'm sure Jon would appreciate your company far more than I could," he snarls.

   Any hurt in your eyes fizzles into confusion. "What? What are you–"

   "You're right, I'm not stupid. I'm not blind, either." His voice is rising, but he's still got enough sense to keep this as private as he can, surrounded by super-powers. "I see how you act with him. I know you love him."

   You reel. You can't help laughing, breathy and incredulous. "Love–? What in the fresh hell are you talking about?"

   "Don't try to deny it."

   "Uh, I am going to deny it because it isn't true."

   He steps forward, as if he has a chance at intimidating you into admission. "You're kinder to him than anyone else. You treat him like he hung the sun. You go looking for him first at every opportunity." He's gesturing with his hands, too. "You make it so obvious, I don't know how I'd didn't see it before. Maybe I am blind after all."

   "You're so wrong," tell him. You're uneasy again. Twisting away from him by fractions, inches. Just enough to be doing it subconsciously, like a guilty man in an interrogation room. You still don't back away from him, don't let him snatch the reins of the situation. All of this only fuels him more.

   "You aren't stupid either. I know that. You know that." He stops for a breath, just one, and you see just how hard he's breathing

   He's never been this agitated by something like this before. It's true, when he's pent up and angry about something he can't simply remedy, he goes looking for fights to pick and outlets to unleash upon. But he's never found that in you. His indirect anger has almost always spared you, a few sharp words aside.

   "I'm not saying that I do feel for Jon," you interrupt, "but if I did; why would it bother you this much?"

   He's never cared before. You know he hasn't—you've gone out of your way to make try to make him jealous once or twice, talking about boys you have liked or flirting with someone right in front of him, and it's never gotten you more than a raised eyebrow or an eye roll.

   Something intuitive, grown from too long spent at his side, flutters to life in your mind. An idea, a theory, a hope.

   For the first time since you met him, he stammers. He trips over his words once, twice, then promptly snaps his mouth shut. On the outside, his face pinches angrily, lips pressed together grimly. Inside, he screams into the void and scrambles for a handful of words he can stitch into a decent excuse. All the vocabulary of five different languages, half the vocabulary of four more, and all he can come up with are incoherent expletives.

   And like the kind, patient person you are—for him, at least—you wait for him. You stand there after he's run his stupid mouth and acted like some bratty elementary schooler, and you wait for him to figure out an explanation instead of turning away from him. He told you he didn't want to talk to you and instead of telling him to get over it or writing him off completely, you tried to fix it.

   It sucks all the fight right out of him.

   Finally, he says your name in a way that makes your lungs seize. "You have to know," he says quietly. "You must."

   You think you might. "Know what?"

   Five steps away from you feels too far, so he makes it two. Not enough to crowd you, not enough to hide. "You really don't have feelings for Jon?"

   You chuckle. "Jon's…nice. He's really nice, and he's a close friend, but…he's just not the guy for me," you admit. "And for the record, I definitely don't think he hung the sun."

   It earns you a little smile. Small victories, you suppose.

   You're still watching him expectantly. He could lie his way out of this. He could tell you that he thought Jon was cheating on you, frame it as though he was trying to save you from heartbreak. He could tell you a lot of things, frame himself in a lot of ways.

   But he doesn't want to do this again. You didn't have feelings for Jon, but you just as easily could have. You'll have other men groveling at your feet eventually. You'll choose one of them, eventually. He has a chance, right now.

   He takes a breath to steady himself. It's full of your favorite fragrance, and he finds that instead of making him any more nervous, it becomes a little easier to breathe.

   He thinks of all those terribly unrealistic movies his sisters and Dick watch. He thinks of making out in the rain and dramatic confessions and passionate kisses. He tries to imagine himself there instead. He tries to put together something that you'll remember forever, even if you turn him down.

   But he's standing here, looking at you, waiting for him like you always do.

   "I'm in love with you," he says. "I'm–...I love you."

   It's strangely freeing to say out loud. He anticipated anxiety. In every scenario that ran through his mind, he'd been terrified. In the worst cases, there had been tears or gunfire or both. He'd say it, in whatever way he could conjure up, and it would feel like he was stepping off a cliff.

   Now that he's here, and he's said it, you're smiling at him like you're welcoming him home.

   "Oh, Damian," you whisper, and your eyes are glittering like a reflection of a sunrise, and your palms are so warm on his shoulders. "I love you, too."

#QFWW #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #quillsfebuarywritingweek #damian wayne #still not rly happy with this but eh

[jamespottersmixtape]

rosekiller microfic: goldilocks 1,632 words

a bit of soft rosekiller!! this is inspired by @myrows rosekiller art which you can find here! it made me want to weep a little when I first saw it, so naturally I had to write something haha :) ngl this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and it's by no means perfect but enjoy!! <3

Barty has always cherished quiet nights at Hogwarts.

When the chatter in the halls finally dies down enough for his thoughts to come back to him and homework has been carelessly tossed aside to save for tomorrow.

There’s a sense of serenity to it all that Barty rarely finds elsewhere. A break that he craves most at the end of a particularly stressful day.

Sixth year courses have been—to put it lightly, beating his ass—no matter how well he does. Today, it had taken him ten tries to get the nonverbal spell to work in Transfiguration. Ten.

Usually Barty needs no more than six tries for complicated spells, less than that for complex potions. Disregarding that he still did it faster than over half the class, now he’s just fucking tired.

He groans and shoves his schoolbag off the bed, letting it hit the floor with a soft thud, then flops backwards dramatically onto his pillows. The dorm room is dim, save for a few small candles on his bedside table. Cloaked in various shadows that dance around the room from the flickering flame.

Barty closes his eyes, taking a spare second to just breathe. There’s the soft white noise of the shower running in the background—Evan is taking forever, as usual—and sometimes Barty imagines he can hear the push and pull of the black lake against their walls. Lack of windows be damned.

It isn’t long before the water shuts off, and Barty feels the smallest smile tug at the corners of his mouth. It’s just the two of them for now, Regulus off doing god knows what at this hour. So naturally, a lot of built up restraint is needed for Barty not to rip open the bathroom door. To go and take in the sight of a freshly showered Evan and gather him in his arms before he can be stopped.

He’s been in there for less than thirty minutes but fuck it, Barty misses him.

Grumbling, he goes to change into the first clothes he can find. Settling for some years old joggers and a loose tank top, the soft fabric already making him drowsy.

The bathroom door creaks open and his head snaps up, immediately catching Evan’s eye. Barty really can’t help it when his heart skips a beat.

Evan raises his eyebrows, chuckling when Barty takes no subtlety in checking him out. His hair is dry, most likely done by magic. A thin blue t-shirt hangs off his shorter frame and each step taken towards Barty casts golden shadows over his skin.

Looking like everything warm and comfortable; the smell of his shampoo in the air so familiar that it hurts.

Barty’s smirk is wicked when he tugs Evan by his shirt into a light kiss. He makes a startled noise but melts into Barty’s touch regardless, fingers cupping his chin. The kiss is short but effective in making Barty’s head go all fuzzy.

“What happened to hello?” Evan asks when they pull apart—though not very far—now standing chest to chest. Evan’s bare feet fit in between his socked ones.

 Barty makes sure to slather his words in extra charm, grinning. “Hello, gorgeous.” 

“Wow, smooth talker,” Evan deadpans.

“You know you love it, Goldilocks.”

Barty takes a blonde strand between two fingers, tugging lightly at the end and earning him a deep scowl.

“I told you that nickname is stupid.” Evan rolls his eyes but Barty catches the blush high on his cheekbones. A light dusting of pinks and reds that work to compliment his freckles. Barty pokes him on one cheek.

“And I told you I don’t care.”

“Brat.”

Barty hums noncommittally, threading their fingers together. Warmth settles in his chest from the steady weight of Evan’s hand.

He leads Evan past the emerald green curtains of his bed and down onto the soft mattress. It’s a routine they’ve created over the last few months, and every time Barty wraps the covers around them it becomes harder and harder to let Evan slip back into his own bed. Something about having him in his arms means a night free of restless tossing and turning.

They lie facing each other for a few minutes, minimal space between them and their heads resting on one pillow. Quiet voices and even quieter laughs, a sacred bubble that neither of them dare to pop.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Barty laughs, his voice barely above a whisper. “You told Cresswell what?”

Evan frowns, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I told him…that if he feels the need to keep staring at you in class then maybe I should tape his fucking eyes open. You know, that way he wouldn’t miss it when I inevitably snog you right in front of him.”

“Evan!” Barty can’t help it, his laugh is loud when it bursts from his chest.

“Well, maybe I left out that last bit…”

It takes him a minute before his laughter dies down, the quiet settling back in. “You jealous?” Barty teases, raising an eyebrow.

Evan purses his lips. “No.”

Barty stares at him knowingly.

Silence.

Evan averts his eyes.

“Mhm sure, come here.”

He drags Evan in by his waist, the pair of them fumbling around until Evan’s head relaxes in the crook of Barty’s neck and his forearm rests over his chest. Their sides pressed together, Barty smiles—fully content now.

Wordlessly, Barty ghosts his hand over the warm skin, relishing in the way Evan shivers from the cold metal of the ring on his middle finger.

There’s silence for a few minutes. Evan’s hair brushes the side of his face and his warm breath fans across his chest, their hearts only slightly out of sync as they beat so close together.

It’s a lot for Barty to take in sometimes—the whole idea of them. Having someone so delicate, yet so utterly untouchable, be his. If anyone took the time to ask him, though, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Barty knows Evan’s eyes are closed, can see the shadow of his eyelashes. He takes the opportunity to trace over his freckles; a messy constellation that follows the high points of his cheeks, crosses sporadically over the bridge of his nose.

Evan scrunches his face up, which should not be so endearing. “That tickles.”

Barty turns his head, placing the quickest of kisses atop of Evan’s forehead, debating whether or not he should just give in and lick the side of his face. Then ultimately deciding against it—Evan did just take a shower—he’ll be nice for once.

“I wasn’t jealous. I don’t get jealous,” Evan mumbles, his voice lulled and tired sounding.

“Of course not, Ev.” Barty resists rolling his eyes, Evan can’t see his face anyway. 

“Besides,” Barty continues, “If you were jealous, I don’t mind you threatening people for me…it’s kinda hot.”

Evan smacks him lightly across the chest, but snuggles deeper against his shoulder. Which definitely does not do a weird flippy thing to Barty’s stomach. Nope, not at all.

“Mm okay,” Evan yawns. Which, Barty can’t blame him. Exhaustion is slowly taking over his body the longer they lie here. At this point all he wants to do is blow out the candles and fall asleep. Keep Evan next to him the whole night.

“Hey Goldilocks.”

“Mhm…” Evan must be too tired to even rebuke the nickname.

“Reg is going to freak out if he finds you here in my bed.”

Evan huffs, not very different from a petulant child. He makes no move to get up or even open his eyes. “I don’t care.”

This time Barty can’t hold back his yawn. He shuts his eyes and allows his body to sink further into the bed. Further into Evan. “Maybe we can tell Potter how madly in love with him Reg is. Then they can finally leave us alone.”

“Payback,” Evan snorts.

They both fall asleep without really meaning to. Tangled limbs beneath the covers and hands that aren’t inclined to let go. As his mind quiets down, something in Barty feels settled. A puzzle piece slotting into place after searching and searching for the edge that matches. Evan tends to have that effect on him, he’s come to notice.

All is quiet for a while, the whole school in a coinciding state of slumber. A time when portraits snore softly and only ghosts roam the halls, the usual lively presence of magic at bay for now.

But not even thirty minutes later they’re awoken with a loud thud and a significantly darker room—Barty had blown the candles out after all—just in case.

“Lumos,” someone whispers.

Regulus stands at the end of Barty’s bed, hands on his hips and a look of annoyance on his face. His wand is now lit and shining far too bright for Barty’s liking.

“What the fuck, Reg?” he asks groggily. Evan groans beside him and tries to hide his face.

“Not my fault I tripped over your fucking books, Barty,” Regulus hisses. “And you guys are gross. You said no PDA in the dorm.”

Barty squints and gestures for him to lower his wand. Regulus does so slowly. “Yeah, well I’m a fucking liar. Let us sleep.”

It’s with a lot of grumbling and a sharp glare that Regulus turns and stalks to his side of the room. When he shuts himself in the bathroom Barty reaches for his own wand and spells his curtains closed.

He has Evan back in his arms in no time, steady and real and here. Absolutely not going anywhere, if Barty has a say in it. His fingers resume their path over his arm, tracing nonsensical shapes that neither can decipher. Before they both drift off again a thought pops into Barty’s head.

“We are definitely getting him back for this.”

#ahhhh another microfic i missed them #this is silly and self indulgent but i love them sm #so soft i'm kinda dying #shoutout to evan's freckles for being the sole inspo #and myro's lovely lovely art ofc #rosekiller #rosekiller microfic #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #barty x evan #evan x barty #rat's silly microfics

[gffa]

I’ve been playing GENSHIN IMPACT for over a year now and reading a bit of fic here and there, mostly of the Tartali and Zhongli&Venti variety, but then Sumeru hit and oh hey Alhaitham is an amazing unit in a quickbloom team and then Kaveh hurricaned his way into my heart and oh no suddenly I was in love and absolutely tearing my way through every bit of Haikaveh I could get my hands on because christ there’s no way Hoyoverse isn’t writing them that way on purpose. I mean, I’m already a sucker for Old Married Couple type bickering, but then you give me the undercurrent of how much they genuinely mean to each other? How much Alhaitham is genuinely caring about how self-destructive Kaveh is? How Kaveh just absolutely will not shut up about Alhaitham, even the other characters are like “You talk about him so much that it’s like he’s been here with us all night.”? Yeah, of course I fell in love. So, here, cry about a gacha game having beautifully designed characters with just the right types of personality and funny banter that know how to knock me the fuck out with both delight and genuine feelings about idiots in love. Or just old elemental grandpas who annoy the shit out of each other because they’re both several millennia old and nobody else understands their weird friendship. I’m having a great time and I’m going to make that everyone else’s problem. GENSHIN IMPACT - CHILDE IS 10000% CASUALLY UNHINGED OF COURSE HE WANTS TO NOT JUST FIGHT A GOD, HE WANTS TO FUCK A GOD: ✦ Set in Stone by seredemia, childe/zhongli & childe’s family, 115.4k wip      What do you do when you write about a certain six thousand year old consultant so much in your letters that it somehow convinces your entire family you’re not only dating each other, but that you’re also engaged? In Childe’s case, the answer is plain and simple: he goes along with it, of course. Absolutely nothing can go wrong if he makes a contract with the God of Contracts, vowing that the two of them will pretend to be lovers for the duration of his family’s stay in Liyue. Afterwards, they’ll return as normal and speak no more of this mess. No feelings or complications involved whatsoever. ✦ the wind through the mountain tops by glassdrachma, childe/zhongli & venti, 25.5k      Boredom brings Barbatos of Mondstadt to bother a certain ex-Archon of the Earth. ✦ my faceless self, alone by recursion, childe/zhongli & guizhong, 7.2k      There is one lone glaze lily left, shining brilliant blue in the depths of Dihua Marsh. Zhongli kneels over it as Xiao looks on. “The contract is fulfilled,” he whispers. He takes his mask off with trembling fingers and sets it aside. The blood that stains it seeps into the ground, turning it rust-red. “That which thou seeketh is now bestowed unto thee, for my promise is solid as stone.” (Zhongli, in the before and after.) ✦ more espresso, less depresso by birdsofpassage, childe/zhongli & ningguang & xingqiu & chongyun, coffeeshop au, 5.3k      There’s a quaint little coffee shop that catches Childe’s eye as soon as soon as he arrives into town. The man that works inside is more exhilarating than any drink Childe has ever tasted. ✦ passing afternoon by bearbearer, childe/zhongli, NSFW, 1.3k      Zhongli just came, really. He just broke into his office with a white loose robe hanging from his shoulders, skin exposed like a gift, and two glasses of fine wine in his hands. There was a smile on his lovely red lips, while they moved around cloying words. “Are you amenable for a rest?” And everything was warm as he approached, because how could Zhongli not— He wouldn’t have a rest at all. ✦ the consultant’s kidnapping by glassdrachma, childe/zhongli & hu tao & cloud retainer & xiao & ganyu & keqing & cast, 19.2k      The Traveller isn’t able to stop Cloud Retainer from seeking revenge on Liyue Harbor. Zhongli is, however. Sort of. ✦ if i choose not to see it, it does not exist by inareese, childe/zhongli, 5.1k      Zhongli might as well have just straight up told Childe. He absolutely refuses to think too hard about it. or Tartaglia’s accidental guide to why Zhongli is most definitely a hundred percent not Rex Lapis. There is nothing suspicious to see here. ✦ A New Mission by Kuranoa, childe/zhongli, NSFW, 2.8k      “Sensei, have you ever bedded anyone?” Childe asks, chin resting on his hand while he observes the flawlessly elegant way Zhongli drinks from his teacup. “I have not.” The Archon answers just as frankly, not even batting a lash. “Would you like to?” ✦ Trial And Success by woahiohioh, childe/zhongli, NSFW, read the tags, 6.7k      Or: Childe asks Zhongli if he can tie him up and they both discover they’re into some things they didn’t know about beforehand. ✦ C.P.R. by silverid, childe/zhongli, NSFW, read the tags, 3.3k      It’s something straight out of Childe’s fantasies. “Don’t worry, xiansheng.” he chokes out. “I’ll show you.” Zhongli’s eyes go half-lidded. “Well then. Direct me.” GENSHIN IMPACT - LET ROCK GRANDPA’S FRIENDS BULLY HIM IT’LL BE SO FUNNY: ✦ rex lapis is totally undeniably dead! by arataka, zhongli & hu tao, 1.7k      when zhongli comes into her office and tells her, “rex lapis is dead” paired with the most serious face she’s ever seen him wear, hu tao laughs at him. GENSHIN IMPACT - YOU EVER LOVE SOMEONE SO MUCH YOU WANT TO PUNCH THEM IN THE FACE? YEAH THAT’S HAIKAVEH: ✦ handle with care by smallghosts, alhaitham/kaveh, 2.4k      Kaveh may be a thorn in Alhaitham’s side, but he’s his favorite one. ✦ Slip of the Tongue by LONEMOON, alhaitham/kaveh & cyno, NSFW, 9.6k      Kaveh is inflicted by a curse that makes him only able to tell the truth. For someone who’s fairly honest and wears his heart on his sleeve, this shouldn’t be a big deal, right? Unfortunately, he has some feelings he’d like to keep hidden… ✦ theory and practice by alcyonenight, alhaitham/kaveh, 3.9k      Kaveh falls ill. Alhaitham works through some things. ✦ too many nights by effervescentskies, alhaitham/kaveh, 4.8k      Kaveh keeps coming back home drunk in the middle of the night. Alhaitham is not pleased. ✦ itni khafa nahin by solarclimes, alhaitham/kaveh, 2.4k      Rtawahist scholars have a curious theory about parallel worlds, where the stars of a person’s constellation are weaved in slightly different ways, creating an infinite number of universes where they make different choices, lead different lives. He had told Al-Haitham about it once, who had declared it outlandish and based on pure conjecture, but Kaveh had found the idea interesting. Perhaps, then, there exists a world, where Kaveh’s life isn’t so at odds with him. Where Kaveh can reach out in this moment and pull Al-Haitham into his arms. ✦ inertia by smallghosts, alhaitham/kaveh, 3.6k      A drunken confession is all it takes to set the inertia of their non-relationship into motion. ✦ Opposites Attract by LavastormSW, alhaitham/kaveh, NSFW, 3k      Alhaitham returns home after a long day commentating on and wrapping up the Akademiya Extravaganza, only to find Kaveh waiting for him… ✦ truck, barter, and trade by Seungshi03, alhaitham/kaveh & wanderer & nahida, 13.3k      Or: Al-Haitham is, without a doubt, the most annoying person Kaveh knows. Maybe the world’s second-most annoying person can help Kaveh figure him out. ✦ I’ll keep your brittle heart warm by clouds_hide, alhaitham/kaveh & nilou & traveler, 3.2k      Or: The Inter-Darshan Championship brings out the problems they don’t talk about. They really need to talk. ✦ i’ve been loving you for quite some time, time, time by creativedisaster, alhaitham/haikaveh, NSFW, 4.7k      After spending the week talking about his plans to move out, Kaveh’s not entirely sure he can face dealing with Alhaitham now he’s staying. But the bad thing about living together - he has to go home sometime. - OR - Alhaitham has some truth for Kaveh that he might not be ready for. ✦ knocking is a wonderous invention by dearwormwood, alhaitham/kaveh & cyno/tighnari, 2.8k      Four times Tighnari and Cyno think they walk in on Alhaitham and Kaveh in compromising positions, and one time they actually do. ✦ sunbird by caniculeo, alhaitham/kaveh & cyno & tighnari & nilou & kaveh’s mother & cast, 19.1k      This is how Kaveh grows up—well-loved and loving, with a pencil in his hand and starlight in his eyes. This is how he grows up, until his father leaves for the desert one day, and never comes back. ✦ you put the ‘fun’ into dysfunction by emigmatic, alhaitham/kaveh, NSFW, 3.7k      His dream was not a dream. It was real. “Oh.” “Is that all you have to say? Oh?” Kaveh presses, but he relents after studying his junior for a moment. His eyebrows draw together and a slight frown takes up residence on his face. “You…why do you look so surprised that I want to talk about how we just had sex?” ✦ diesel is desire (you were playing with fire) by clouds_hide, alhaitham/kaveh & cyno, NSFW, 6.7k      Kaveh on his back, his blonde hair splayed across the white sheets, his entire chest flushed from arousal, is the most beautiful sight in the world. Even if Alhaitham lives through a thousand samsaras, he will never forget this. ✦ modus vivendi by katraa, alhaitham/kaveh, NSFW, 3.5k      Kaveh has a sprained wrist, his roommate is insufferable, and said roommate knows how to take someone’s mind off the pain. Or, they finally stop dancing around the subject and bang. ✦ That’s The Way I Loved You by rewmariewrites, alhaitham/kaveh & cyno & tighnari & cast, NSFW, 16.9k      Tighnari rolls his eyes and turns back to Kaveh. “You didn’t answer my question,” Tighnari says, like he thinks Kaveh is an idiot. Kaveh rolls his eyes right back. “No, we’re not dating.” ✦ argumentative, antithetical dream girl by clouds_hide, alhaitham/kaveh & cyno & tighnari, NSFW, 6.8k      Or: Kaveh attempts to have no-strings-attached sex with his roommate. There are so many strings attached, he might as well be a marionette. GENSHIN IMPACT - THAT ONE SCENE OF VENTI BEING AN ANNOYING BASTARD AT XIAO WAS ENOUGH TO CONVERT ME TO SHIPPING THEM: ✦ carried by the wind by underfallingflowerpetals, venti/xiao, 1.7k      Or: Xiao isn’t used to being taken care of, but Venti is nothing if not persistent.

#lumi.txt #genshin impact #zhongli #childe #tartaglia #alhaitham #kaveh #tartali #zhongchi #haikaveh #kavetham #venti #xiao #xiaoven #cyno #tighnari #fic recs #genshin impact fic recs #long post

[cheeriecherrymain]

viktor is a cat, no i do not take criticism

you're right and you should say it.

The Likeness Of Men And Cats [Oneshot] Pairing: Viktor x Reader Rating: T Proofread: no beta we die like men Synopsis: You acquire a cat for the first time, and make a startling connection between it and your best friend, Viktor. Of course, you now have to test your theory: is the man you're crushing on actually several cats in a trenchcoat?

You’ve worked with Viktor for years. Six years, in fact, if you started all the way back in your first year at the academy.

You hadn’t had much interest in him, then. He was just another face in the crowded classroom, just another hand that got raised whenever your professors asked a question. He was smart, sure, but no more than some of the other people in your peer group.

Only once you’d been assigned to a group project did you really start getting to know him - and his less than stellar reputation around campus.

Your friends had all given you their condolences when you’d told them who you’d be working with for the semester, each of them sprouting off some story or another about an interaction they’d had with this Viktor.

And the more you got to know him, the more you realized their stories were true.

He was blunt, and logical to a fault. He refused to take breaks, for either his or your sake - even when you’d been about to pass out from sleep deprivation, he’d merely sighed and told you to sleep, then, if you need it. He frustrated you to no end.

And the more you got to know him, the more you realized your friends’ tales were…wrong.

You had hardly wanted bad blood between you and the man you were supposed to be working with for the whole semester, so you’d stuck it out. You’d been friendly, made yourself approachable, listened to him when he spoke and tried to include him in conversations.

And eventually he opened up.

Shared little jokes with you, brought little snacks to your study sessions so you wouldn’t go hungry. He showed a profound sense of compassion, the deeper your chats got, and a truly spectacular desire to change the world for the better.

It only made sense that you’d fall in love with him. Stupidly, terribly in love.

Even now, years after you’d graduated and moved onto your own projects, you still got heart palpitations whenever you spent time with him. Which happened to be most days, what with your work coinciding so closely. You’re certain that one of these days, the persistent thrum in your chest is simply going to stop, and you’re going to perish.

All because of him, and his stupid handsome face, and his stupid beautiful brain.

And it’s not like you hadn’t tried to tell him how you felt! You’re not the kind of person to just stand there stewing in your feelings for years without trying to resolve them!

He was just…not interested. You dropped hint after hint after hint, suggesting you spend time together to catch up, or maybe go out to lunch, or even dinner. You’d flirted with him so openly that even Jayce was cringing from your efforts!

But he never reciprocated.

Jayce had tried to comfort you one evening, after a particularly rough afternoon of thirsting after your best friend. He probably just doesn’t realize you’re trying to uhh…woo him, he’d said, in a vain attempt at calming your roiling emotions.

Didn’t realize. Right.

You’d been heartbroken for so long after being rejected by Viktor, lost in thought and unable to effectively work. Making excuse after excuse as to why you were ‘out of sorts’ and ‘not feeling well’.

That is…until now.

Three weeks ago, you’d…come into the possession of a soft, fuzzy creature. Or she’d come into possession of you? 

Either way, you’d found a cat. Skinny, mottled black and white, covered in fleas - she’d woken you up in the middle of a fateful night, screaming haplessly from your balcony where she’d gotten stuck. The moment you opened the sliding door, she’d run inside and had since refused to leave.

It had been hectic in the first couple days, particularly when you were trying to get her into the bath to remove all the built up dirt and dust from her fur. But you’d gotten her settled eventually, and since then she’s become a staple in your everyday routine.

It had taken you a while to really notice the patterns in her behavior, and to connect the dots.

Your cat behaved an awful lot like Viktor.

Rather, Viktor behaved an awful lot like a cat.

Bringing you little gifts for no apparent reason, typically in the form of snacks or trinkets. Preferring to sit in the same place as you and work separately, as opposed to actively engaging in conversation. Only showing you his softer side once he knew he could trust you. Even the few times he touched you, he did so in the most unusual way you’d ever seen - running a hand down your arm, or your back.

Not unlike a cat brushing up against its companion.

Looking back, knowing what you know now, you feel…stupid. For disregarding the man you loved so easily, for not clueing into his way of expressing love.

Because of course he loved you!

…probably.

Maybe.

…you need to test your theory.

—

The next day is when you begin Phase One of your plan.

You spent the entire night working on a detailed month-long set of experiments, subtle enough that Viktor wouldn’t think your actions were too weird or out of the blue. In the event that you were wrong in your hypothesis, you would be able to chalk your behaviour up to…

…to…

…wanting to switch things up a bit?

So, truthfully, you hadn’t really thought much about it at all. You’d actually fallen asleep with your face smashed into your desk around ten in the evening, and by the time your alarm had started blaring, you had to scramble to make sense of what little you’d scribbled down.

“Good afternoon, my brilliant men of science!” you cheer, skipping into the lab in your typical loud fashion, your arms full with a large cardboard box that had steam wafting from between its creases.

Viktor hums a quiet greeting from across the room, barely paying you any mind as he continues to focus on his current project.

Jayce, on the other hand, looks over the moment you set foot in the room, making a beeline towards you when he sees you struggling with your parcel.

“What’s in the box?” he wonders, watching over your shoulder as you set it out on one of the free desks, and begin to unfold the flaps.

“Lunch!” you reply, finally revealing a bunch of smaller boxes packed tightly within. “I know you two don’t always have time to run out to grab something to eat, so I thought I’d do it for you. It’s important to keep your energy up when you’re using your brains so much.”

Jayce wastes no time in helping you unpack everything you’d brought, opening up each little package to discover the treasures that lay inside. It’s mostly foods that you know Viktor likes - a couple of baked goods, some potato dumplings, a thermos of root stew, some little swirly breads. 

In no time, he’s fixed himself a plate and gone back to his own workplace, leaving you to stand alone by the feast.

Looking at Viktor.

Who was looking at you.

Looking at you with the most suspicion you’ve ever seen him wear, with his eyes narrowed in thought and his shoulders held tight and square.

“Why?” he asks, glancing between you and the food.

“What do you mean, why?”

His brows pull together slightly, adding to the absolute absurdity of his expression.

“What’s the catch?” he reiterates, finally rising from his seat to slink towards you. “You never bring us lunch. Ever. What’s the occasion?”

You shrug nonchalantly.

“Why would I need a reason to be nice?” you ask. You supposed you could just tell him what you were up to - you doubt he’d be upset with you if you did. He’d probably just be curious about your theory.

The only issue was that if he knew, it might skew your data. If he knew what you were looking for, he might try to react in a way that he thought you’d like - or in a way that would purposefully fuck with you.

No, it would be better if you didn’t tell him. At least not yet.

“V, I’m all for asking questions, but please stop trying to dissect a good thing?” Jayce pleads from the other side of the room, casting over his best impression of a kicked puppy.

You’re pretty sure he knows what you’re up to.

Viktor, in any case, appears to be momentarily placated by your explanation, poor as it was. You know that he’s going to wonder about it eventually, but for now you’ve got time. You’ve got time to sit and eat lunch with your two best friends, and hopefully think up some better excuses.

—

You continue bringing the two of them lunch for the next week. Jayce remains completely unbothered by the situation, and even offers to help once you tell him what your master plan is.

He knows how down bad you are for your friend, and you’re certain that he’s fully sick of listening to you lament about how pretty he is and how badly your heart aches.

Viktor hasn’t mentioned anything since the first day of your new routine, either, but you can tell he’s just as suspicious as he was at the start. His gaze is always sharp when you clatter into the room with another box of food, watching intently while you unpack, remaining trained on you while he makes his way over to hesitantly scoop some up for himself.

Almost like he’s waiting for some kind of reaction out of you.

But you give him nothing, no hints as to what your plan is. You wait patiently while he fixes himself a plate, asking him how his day has been or perhaps about what he’s working on, smiling softly all the while.

It’s exactly one week to the day when you burst into the lab again, followed closely by your loud and raucous announcement of your presence, only to be met with silence.

“I’m afraid Jayce isn’t here today,” Viktor sighs from behind a stack of notebooks, not even bothering to turn his attention away from the formulas he’s copying down.

You, however, are undeterred, continuing your trail into the room, over to your usual table where you are about to begin Phase Two of testing your theory.

“I know,” you reply, setting your things down. “He said he had a thing with Mel today - and a busy week, too.”

You can see from the corner of your eye as your friend finally turns away from his work.

“You knew he wouldn’t be here?” he wonders, utterly perplexed. When you hum your confirmation, he continues, “Then why did you bother coming?”

That alone is enough to give you pause, glancing towards him in confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask.

You stare at each other for a couple of seconds, before he shrugs and makes a noncommittal grumble, turning back to his papers.

He…thought you wouldn’t come? If it was just him, he thought…you wouldn’t even bother showing up. As if he wasn’t your best friend, and the love of your life, and the brightest part of your day? Like he couldn’t possibly be the reason for your kindness?

Your heart clenches.

In silence, you fix him a plate of the little foods you know he’ll like; you’d gone out of your way to pick out a couple of his favourites today, having suspected that he might be difficult to persuade without Jayce nearby to bully him into eating.

“Here,” you tell him, softly, setting the plate on the desk beside him. You set your hand on his shoulder for a brief moment, letting your fingertips wander down his arm, and then turn away to head back to your own work.

Knowing Viktor, he’d prefer the silence over active conversation. It was easier for him when the other half of HexTech was around to act as a buffer and keep your endless desire to talk entertained. But today, when it’s just the two of you? You know you’ve overstepped your bounds in the past, pushing him into a state of discomfort with your constant chattering.

But not today.

Today, you’ve brought your own work with you, fully intent on sitting quietly with your best friend while you both eat your meals. You had the entire hour to catch up on grading your students’ tests - grades they’d been hassling you about for a while now.

It’s a little bit uncomfortable at first, to not talk while you know he’s nearby. There are things from your day that you want to share with him - something funny that one of your first-years said to you, the gossip you’ve heard about other faculty members.

But you resist.

Viktor, on the other hand, only makes it about ten minutes.

All at once, the incessant scribbling of his pen stops, followed by a deep sigh, and the quiet clatter of the utensil being set down. A creak in his chair, as he turns towards you.

“Have I done something to offend you?” he inquires, bluntly, as usual.

You glance up from your pile of papers with wide eyes, surprised by the suddenness of his question.

“No?” you reply, “Why would you think that?”

He sighs again, his gaze wandering away from yours and down to the floor. He looks hesitant, the same sort of hesitant that he’d been when taking the food you offered to him: like he was waiting for something to happen. 

Like he was waiting for you to…to announce that you were playing some kind of absurd prank-

Oh.

“You’ve hardly said a word to me today,” he mumbles, crossing his arms on the back of his chair so he can rest his head between them.

“But…you like the quiet?” you reply, far more meek than you’d intended to be. Had he been taking your entire experiment as some kind of mean joke on him? Had he already known that he was reminiscent of a cat? Did he think you were making fun of him for it?

“Yes!” he retorts quickly, running a hand through his already-mussed hair. “But you’re always talking! To me, to Jayce - about your students, or some shitty scholarly article you read! You’ve been acting strange for the entire week. First the food, and now this - are you okay? Are you-”

“Viktor, breathe!” you squeak.

The moment you see the worry in his eyes, you jump to your feet and make your way over to him. Taking his face in your heads, despite your better judgment or regard to the rules of your plan. Stroking your thumbs slowly over the curve of his cheeks, holding him close while he forced himself to relax and slow his breathing.

You’ve never seen him so outwardly worried about you.

“Look,” you murmur, “I just…I care about you. A lot. And I feel like sometimes I…do a pretty shitty job of showing it.”

Slowly, you let your hands slide down to rest atop his shoulders.

“I’m always after you to take better care of yourself, but I never actually do anything to help. And - and I always push conversations on you, even though I know you’d rather work on your own projects.”

With a dejected sigh, you remove your hands from him completely, “Even now. My first instinct when trying to comfort you is to touch you, even though I know you don’t really like it.”

Idly, you fiddle with the edges of your sleeves.

“I just want to make you happy, but…I know I can be annoying, sometimes. I’m sorry.”

The air is thick between the two of you after that. You can’t for the life of you figure out what else you should say, if anything - you can’t even bring yourself to look him in the eye. Instead, you turn on your heel and wobble back to your seat, trying your hardest to keep the hot sting of tears from reaching your eyes.

You feel like an idiot.

Your entire plan was stupid, and your theory was stupid, and wanting to test it? Stupid!

So caught up in your own thoughts, you don’t even notice the sound of a chair being dragged across the room, over to where you sit. Only when Viktor shoves it right up beside you and plops down nearly in your lap do you jostle out of your own head.

Staring up at him with wide eyes.

“You think you’re annoying?” he asks, nearly incredulous. “I never have anything to contribute to your conversations - never have any stories or adventures of my own to share. You have to carry all our interactions! And you…think you’re annoying?”

You scoff softly. “I mean, most of my other colleagues tolerate me, and only barely. Do you know how many break room conversations I’ve accidentally overheard about me?”

He grumbles a bit, letting his head roll sideways to carefully knock against the curve of your shoulder. 

“This isn’t about them,” he insists. “You’re not annoying. I enjoy listening to you talk - you always have interesting perspectives on subjects that I rarely consider.”

He tilts his face up, then, staring up at you from mere inches away with a sort of intensity that makes your cheeks nearly catch fire.

“And I also like it when you remind me to take a break. You know how I am about keeping track of time - if there isn’t an alarm, I’ll sit and work until I pass out.”

Slowly, oh so slowly, you lean towards him. Gently, tenderly, with an affection that makes your chest ache - you bonk your forehead against his, the barest of touches, but the most intimate you’ve ever been with him.

And all at once, his face lights up into a bright, rosy hue.

Much like how you had connected the dots a week ago, all the pieces fall into place in his mind. One by one, clicking together to form an entire beautiful picture: a story of your friendship, finally understanding.

“You…” he begins, trailing off as he tilts his head up by a fraction, drawing you into a kiss you’ve both been waiting years for.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #viktor fluff #arcane fluff #viktor reader insert #see mom i cant possibly in a depressive episode i wrote THIS #arcane reader insert

[nerdieforpedro]

The Man Next Door

Jake Lockley x plus size black female reader

This blog is 18+ MDNI

Word Count: approx. 4.1k

Summary: You've been eyeing your neighbor Jake for the last few months. A major even and discovery puts things into perspective. You make your move after the dots are filled in.

Warnings: Mentions of blood (various amounts), violence, one minor character death, sprinkles of Spanish, first aid, unprotected P in V (wrap it IRL), aftercare

Notes: My first Moon Knight fic! 🥰 It's been in the works for a bit. It's a half of a request for @megamindsecretlair I asked her what she wanted in it and she told me. We'll see if I delivered on that or not. 😄Dividers are designed by the wonderful @saradika-graphics ❤️

Main Masterlist / Moon Knight Masterlist/ Oscar Isaac characters

Sometimes he has blood on his hands, attempting to wipe it off with a rag, other times there are small drops of splatter on his chin and cheek as he gives you a morning nod before you head off to work.

He’s never without a drop of crimson on him, no matter what time of day you happen to spot him. It makes you keep your distance from him, not indulge in idle chatter like your other neighbors in your apartment building, ask to borrow items or even keep a package or two for you.

You’re curious about him, about Jake Lockley.

He’s been your next door neighbor for six months. You haven’t heard anyone in his apartment or seen anyone visit. It was odd, that you’re sure of. He only gets a few pieces of mail and seldom any packages. Never rude and never too friendly either. A fair distance away from any who may try to get to know him.

You wonder if you should have ever spoken to him now. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen him and had your morning farewell nod. You walk from the bus stop to work each day, it’s less than ten minutes and you count it as your exercise. This is the night you see him again, your neighbor. Walking home like every other night, you happen to hear a thud and look in its direction. Sure you left work an hour late due to your boss being a dick and wanting you to finish putting together the reports for tomorrow, but at least you got overtime out of it so you hadn’t minded too much. Maybe you should have.

You can’t say it’s completely unexpected, there’s only so many reasons Jake would have blood on him but it’s still shocking. It’s not everyday you see your neighbor standing in a pool of someone’s blood. Honestly you can’t tell the gender or the person or ethnicity from the distance and from the amount of blood.

There’s just so much. Dripping from his hands, splashes on his face and clothes.

No wait…the clothes are odd. They went from some off gray looking robes to his normal jeans, and jacket. Maybe you’re hallucinating. It’s then that you feel a hand on your arm.

“You know him, don't you woman? What do you know about him? Tell us!” When you turn to see who the hand belongs to, you’re met with a knife that grazes your cheek. There are four men in addition to the one holding you for a total of five. You’re shaking your head, it’s not a lie, you don’t know anything about the man other than his name and that he lives next to you. His grip strengthens on your arm as you try to pull away from him and the other men watch amused at your attempt to try and escape. Their laughs are replaced by curses as you stomp on your assailant’s foot and drop your bag to punch him in the face. He’s stunned so his grip loosened finally to give you a chance to go for the knife and you do.

There’s blood on you now. Not on your hand you punched the man with, but on the knife and your white button down from where you went for your assistant’s neck. He’s holding the side of it, trying to apply pressure but he’s shaky on his feet. One of his friends, you assume, grabs him to help him but he slumps in his arms, the man’s hand falling slowly from his neck.

Did you just kill someone? What the hell is happening?

(Khonshu): Is that the woman you glance at and who occupies your idle thoughts Jake? I thought she was one of the many worms. It appears she is not. You may want to don the suit again. She has spirit, but not skill nor strength. She’ll not last long.

(Jake): I hear you loud and clear, you old bird. What is she doing here anyway? She’s normally off work and at home by now. I know her routine and she doesn't change it by much. I knew she had a little fire in her, she went right for the neck, most would have gone for an arm or torso.

The three other men are circling you, screaming at you about their fallen friend and how they’re going to take their time in torturing you no matter if you actually know anything about Jake or not. You lunge at the man closest to you, going for his neck as well since that did the other man in, but he caught both your arms and chuckled.

“Luck like that only strikes once bitch!” He presses his fingertips into your wrists, but you keep hold of the knife, it’s the only weapon you have. But you start to smell more metal - iron, no there’s more blood. It’s not on you, or it wasn’t until the goon holding you falls forward and to step back to avoid his body hitting yours, wrists free, but you’re falling. It seems among all that scuffle, you’d been near a curb and you’d stepped off awkwardly.

You don’t hit the ground though, instead you’re in strong arms. The same gray you’d seen earlier except now there’s a mask, cape and a moon in the middle of his chest? He supports you as you stand up. You’re still holding onto your knife though, adrenaline running through your veins as you hold it close to your chest. He holds your shoulders and gives them a soft squeeze to help you pay attention.

“Mira! Hola! (Look! Hello!) Tch…” Jake’s trying to get your attention but it’s not working. This whole gentle thing isn’t his norm and he can see that your eyes aren’t registering him or his words at all. Not even him squeezing your shoulders, he’s worried that squeezing them harder will result in an injury and the suit only heals him, not you. The blood dripping from your cheek angers him and the men are only knocked out now. He needs to get you out of here so he can come back and find out information from them - slowly and painfully. He releases you and picks up your bag, then tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, he doesn’t have time to console you, not that he would be any good at it. He hears you squeal then yelling and shifts your back to the same arm he’s holding you with, then pinches your hip.

“Silencio! (Quiet!)” Your body tenses in his arms as he makes his way to the apartment building. He jumps to the fire escape outside of his window as he usually keeps it open for when he doesn’t feel like using the door. He removed that suit before heading in, donning his street clothes and carrying you inside, setting you down on his couch. You’re sniffling, but not crying loudly or yelling anymore which Jake is thankful for. He goes to get a small first aid kit. It was included with some beer he bought when he last shopped for anything really and hasn’t been opened. Kneeling in front of you, he sighs as you’re still looking forward, he’s wondering if he’ll still get soft nods and hellos after this. You might even see if you can move from the building. He wets some gauze with some saline and dabs your cheek, finally you respond by hissing from the sting.

“Oh, now you’re paying attention princesa (princess)? You’re in my place by the way. Stay still.” Jake gives you a brief smile before dabbing your cheek a few more times and applying some antibiotic ointment. It’s not nearly deep enough for stitches or even the little strips they have in here, but he still hates that you were there at all, let alone that you’re not only injured but you also had to kill to survive.

“I..so that was all real, not a nightmare? Oh…so I killed…” You finally drop the knife and in klangs on the floor, your hands take hold of your knees, covered halfway by your pencil skirt. Your realization sinks in that no, it was not some crazed fearful dream from watching way too much FBI in one night. No, there had been a fight, there had been blood and you had indeed killed someone.

“It was self-defense hermosa (gorgeous). That’s all it was. You wouldn’t have had to if I wasn’t slow in getting to you.” Jake takes your hands in his. You finally look at him. He looks like every other day, black leather jacket, dark gray t-shirt, dark wash jeans, a wry smile on his face and it’s surrounded by his dark shadowy stubble. When did he change clothes? His eyes are unexpectedly warm in their chocolate pools. You hadn’t really looked at them before, always in passing. You nod and close your eyes. He’s telling you what you want to hear, but you know what you did with that knife. “Come on, let’s get you next door. You should wash up and change clothes. Don’t touch your face though.” He instructs and you follow him to your feet as he stands and walks to his door. His apartment has the same brick walls, though his are more sparse with decorations though you see many books. You didn’t expect any and you’re not sure why.

You aren’t able to find your keys, your hands are shaking so badly and you’re crying again, silently since he told you to be quiet. He regrets that a bit. You’re not accustomed to death and violence as he is, of course it's shocking, most would find it so. “May I princesa?” Jake holds out a hand, he’s not going to force it, it’s not the time. You hand him your back and he searches for half a minute. The bag is large and looks like you keep a lot of ‘just in case’ stuff in it. He finds your keys and unlocks your door, but doesn’t enter with you.

“You’re not coming in? I…” Your voice fades out. You want to ask him to stay, you don’t want to be alone, but would he even want to? He likely thinks you’re a wimp for crying, why would he even want to stay? “N-Never mind Jake see-”

“I’ll be back. I need to tie up loose ends princesa. Just take a nice slow shower, if you get your face wet, clean and apply some more ointment and eat something. You did well, you survived. Don’t feel bad about it at all.” He’s spoken more to you now than he ever has. On one hand, this eleates Jake as he was never really sure how to start a conversation with you, but under these circumstances, it’s far from ideal. His arms wrap around you, bringing your head to his chest. He still smells a little metallic like blood but now like the books in his apartment and cigarettes? You’d never seen him smoke, curious, but not your focus. His heartbeat is steady and one hand touches the back of your neck, his fingers run up into the small hairs you have at the back edge of your hairs, those little ones that no amount of hair grease or edge cream will tame. He’s playing with them though before he lets you go abruptly. “Hasta leugo princesa (See you later princess).” And he’s back to his apartment. Gone that fast. His warmth lingers on your neck and the front of your body and it’s what you ponder while you’re in the shower.

Peeling off your clothes and showering was the easy part. The clothes went in their own small trash bag and would go out with tomorrow’s garbage. It was trying to eat, you made a sandwich and only ate half of it, then there was soup, which normally you love, but the smell made your stomach curl. Eventually, all of the sandwiches went down with some water and on the couch you sat. Alone with your thoughts. You don’t feel any different, but you know what you did with that knife. The blood, the men’s threats, the fear you felt, Jake being covered in blood. What was he going to do when he came back? Where should you even start with your questions? It had been a few hours by this point and you’re staring at the wall when there’s a knock at your door. Standing and hurrying to the door, a familiar voice uttered one word.

“Princesa.” It was the fastest you’d open the door for anyone.

Jake sits down from you on your couch and explains to you who he is, who he serves and why he usually has blood on him. It’s fantastical and had it been any other day, you’d told him to get out and avoided him like he was insane. But the events of the night had told you to believe him and it was honestly better to think he was punishing those causing harm to others than being a serial killer or something else. You do notice something though, Jake appears to be nervous, which is weird, his eyes are darting around and he keeps clearing his throat and moving on the couch, like he can’t get comfortable.

“Did you want to sit in the armchair? You might find it more comfortable.” Your offer makes him stop moving and sigh. Jake’s a little worked up since he’d been doing a lot more of Khonshu work, normally he’d drink to ease himself into some sleep. He should leave. Now. You’re freshly showered, took down a man despite being scared out of your mind, and he held you too long earlier, much too long. He meant to calm you with that hug but it instead had him in his thoughts again.

He shouldn’t have watched you stand either, your wide hips make Jake want to do more than pat them as do the soft caramel of your legs that he sees as you glide over to your fridge to offer him water. He stands as you bring him the water and he gulps it down, thanking you as he starts toward the door.

“W-Wait, you’re leaving already Jake?!” He needs you not to call for him like that. You sound like you need him and…that’s not something he can handle right now.

“You’re okay now. I shouldn’t stay any longer princesa.” He doesn’t turn to face you. If he sees your eyes he’s not going to leave. He knows what he’s feeling is partly from all the fighting but not entirely and that’s the part his mind has latched onto and won’t let go of.

“Could I at least have another hug before you go Jake?” You’ve said his name softly, almost with care. How can he say no now? He did give you a hug earlier. He turns to see that you’ve dropped your robe and you are wearing a red silk nightgown that just barely covers your bottom. Your eyes aren’t telling him you want a hug, at least, not just a hug.

“Hermosa, I don’t think that’s all you want from me. Let’s both be honest here. Has this been part of why you watch me as much as I watch you?” His steps are slow, he’s giving you an out. You can say no and give a flimsy excuse like your robe slipped or something. You don’t. You put your hands on his chest and run them up as he did to you, your hands grabbing his curls, their silken texture makes you smile.

“You’d be correct Jake. This dance has gone on long enough. You’re finally in my apartment and I almost died tonight. I also had a long shower as you suggested.” Your plush lips look so inviting and he can’t resist. The kiss is sloppy and his hands are roaming your body, he’d like to rip the gown off of you, but he’s sure you put it on to be admired so he will for a little bit. Jake is much more interested in what’s under it. He bends temporarily and hooks his hands under your knees to lift you up carrying you to your bedroom.

After setting you on the bed gently, Jake slips off his clothes, making a pile on the floor in front of your bed. He’s not one to be embarrassed and is well aware of what he’s working with. His swollen length bobs while he licks his lips. His eyes roam your body as he climbs on the bed, calloused hands start at your ankles and slide up your thick legs. Once he reaches your hips, his hands stay under your nightgown as he pulls it up and over your head. The low groan makes his Adam's apple bob when he sees you weren’t wearing any underwear as you open your legs for him to expose your wetness. You gasp at the cool air and it allows him to capture your lips again, your arms and legs wrapping around him.

He grins into the kiss, lurching his hips forward to have the head of his cock glide across your wet slit. Your hips react and jut forward having the tip enter you, Jake grins on your lips and pulls back but leaves the tip in. “Rather eager aren’t you cariño (sweetheart)?” He takes hold of his length, removing his tip fully and rolls the wrist of his free hand for you to roll over. “I’ll have you from the back first. I want to see that large ass of your bounce.” You roll on your stomach and spread your knees, feeling him lean over and run his hands along your body as he notches at your entrance. His bulbous head is just past your entrance. “Move that ass and push back on my cock. Show me what you can do hermosa.” He leans to kiss along your spine as you use your legs to move your hips back, having your forearms flat on the bed with your elbows as an anchor.

You’re able to get him deeper and feel him stretching you, almost too much, his hips don’t feel flush with yours yet, there must be more. “Jake you’re so thick…. Please move with me.” You coo, looking back at him, your hips moving slowly, your walls are pulling on his shaft, learning his shape. Jake’s hands are roaming your back as praises for working hard for him. He’s aware of his girth and wants to push forward but not yet.

He leans over your back again, making his chest flush with it. His lips are next to your ear, “Muy bien (very good) mi (my) princesa. I’m going to reward you by moving. Be as loud as you want.” A kiss is placed on your shoulder, a last bit of tenderness he shows you before straightening himself up and taking hold of your hips. He draws back, nearly pulling all the way out of you but he thrusts forward, his hips finally flush with yours and the walls of your core expanded to accommodate him as his thrusts increased as did your cries of Jake’s name. You felt yourself pressing into the mattress, at one point face down. Jake was not having it. He wanted you vocal unless your voice had truly given out, which he was sure it hadn’t. His hips came to a full stop and you gasped. “No, no princesa. You won’t go quiet on me yet. Roll.” He gave a light slap to your ass for encouragement for you to move.

You had just sat yourself up back on your elbows and lifted your head when Jake decided that you were moving too slow for him and pulled out of you, the loss had you groan before you yelped with your leg up in the air where it had not been for a long time. He crossed your leg over and succeeded in flipping you over so you were now on your back. Jake’s relentless, his hands are roaming your thighs, hips, stomach, breasts, “Jake....Jake..Fuck…” You keep chanting as he grins before capturing your lips again with his. He has yet to enter you once more and his precum is dripping onto your slit as it rubs your viscous liquids together.

Once he pulls back, he takes in your swollen lips, the heaving of your chest, every curve that he’s tried to feel with his fingers and he knows he hasn’t. This time when he slips back within you, it’s slower and he keeps eye contact with you, one hand on the back of your knee pushing your leg forward to allow him deeper and the other on the back of your neck to pull your face closer to his as he presses his chest against yours. “So much better than I imagined princesa. You’re not getting away from me you know.” He nibbles on your bottom lip as your core tightens around him again, “Good girl, milk me and accept what I’m going to give you.” Your hands grab his shoulders and dig into his skin, scratching him, your hips keep crashing into his as he speeds up a bit, nearly at his climax.

“Give me what you’ve got Jake. I’ll mark you…” Using your teeth, you graze the skin on his neck before biting down and hearing him hiss, giving you a few more strong pumps before spilling inside of you. The heat from his spend has the walls of your cunt close around his throbbing shaft as you scream in your own peak. Jake continues to slowly roll his hips until you both start to come down. Neither of you move, only the sounds of your breaths fill the room. Your body is completely limp and you stare up at Jake who gives you a small kiss to your lips before starting to move back, your arms weakly reach for him and he grins.

“You want more already? You’ll have to give me a few princesa.” Shaking your head, you stick your bottom lip out and give a small pout.

“Don’t leave yet. Stay.” Jake rubs circles on your belly and chuckles.

“You’re even more adorable than I thought. I need to know where your washcloths and towels are. We need to clean up. I’m not leaving.” You inform him that they’re in the small hall closet next to the bathroom to which he goes and gets two washcloths, warming them up along with towels. He wipes you down first and dries you, then takes care of himself before slipping the both of you under the sheets. His hand cups your cheek before running his fingers through your hair and then it dawns on him - you’re not wearing your bonnet. Jake asks where you keep them and you tell him the bottom drawer of your nightstand so he reaches to get one for you and you decide to pinch his rather round ass.

“I think we’re fond of each other’s asses Jake.” You laugh as he slips the red satin onto your head. “I’m surprised you knew that I wore one at night. You’re keeping that close of tabs on me?” An eyebrow raises and he puts his hands up.

“Come on, give me a little credit. I’m not going to say I know everything about caring for black hair properly, but I know bonnets, protective styles, but don’t ask me how to do any of them and oil.” He put up three fingers for the things he did know.

Now it’s your turn to grin. This sly man. “Pfft. You’re full of surprises Jake. We’ll sleep and then you’re helping me oil my hair in the morning before work.” You press his chest lightly and the scoot closer to him to cuddle. His arm wraps around your back, and those fingers of his run down your spine again.

“I’ll help you oil your hair tomorrow if it’s after breakfast and you take a day off of work.” Jake kisses your forehead and closes his eyes.

“Alright. You talked like you knew what to do. I won’t forgive you if you mess up my hair.”

“Hm. If it’s anything like what you did tonight, I get it. I’ll be extra careful princesa. Don’t worry.” You’d drifted off to sleep and Jake watched you before he dozed off as well, looking forward to having his hands on you again. In your hair or anywhere you’d let him.

Keeping an eye out from the apartment across the hall 👀: @soft-persephone @saturn-rings-writes @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @missladym1981 @alltheglitterandtheroar @dameron-grant-spector @soft-girl-musings @agentjackdaniels

#A Nerdie fic #fanfiction #oscar isaac characters #Moon knight #Jake Lockley #Oscar isaac #Jake Lockley x plus size black fem reader #plus size black female reader #khonshu #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight smut

[nattysstargirl]

Alone, again.

Mafia!Wanda Maximoff X Reader angst

Brief Mafia!Pietro Maximoff X Reader

Short blurb

Age gap (undisclosed)

I thought the way Pietro treated me was bad, but it was nothing compared to what his sister has done. From him I expect nothing less than selfishness and disloyalty, but her? No. It has been a week since we slept together for the second time and I awoke in her room alone again. I was disappointed and wished that she would have woken me to say goodbye, but I didn’t for a second doubt that we would talk later in the day.

The rose-tinted glasses I have worn since I was old enough to think Wanda Maximoff was a mixture of superhero and goddess, have left me vulnerable to the fact that she is as capable as her brother of using and discarding women. At least Pietro never pretended to be anything different. He told me explicitly that he didn’t love me right before we had sex.

Wanda sucked me in. She gave me a taste of what I have craved for so long. I felt safe with her, protected. My eyes roll every time I think of the warmth I felt when she called me baby or my darlin’. How naive and stupid was I that I thought that meant she cared at all for me? Wherever she has been sleeping this week, she has probably been whispering the same sweet words into another woman’s ear.

My cheeks redden with the humiliation I can’t shake. The feeling that I am pathetic. All I am worth is a political marriage. My mother can’t see me past her self-obsession and my father, he sees me as a pawn in his miniature game of thrones. My half-brother fucking kidnapped me, for goodness sake. The fact remains that the only person who I have ever truly felt loved by is Bucky and he has been lying to me too.

He spends more time with Sam than he does with me now anyway and I feel our special bond slipping away. I’m glad I have Natasha, but our friendship is still new. We bond over work dramas, the gym members who hit on us, and all the normal bullshit. We hang out, but she doesn’t know all the inner workings of my complicated life. The past week I have been a zombie.

I don’t want to speak with anyone. I have stayed at the Maximoff house because being near my parents would only make me more miserable, but I haven’t seen Wanda. I snuck into her room the first night in the wee hours of the morning and she wasn’t there. Her bed was still as I had made it that morning. The second day I text her.

Y/N: Hey? Is everything ok?

But I didn't get a response. That was when I knew that she was avoiding me. There was no alarm in the rest of the family that she was missing or out of touch. It was just me she avoided. Bucky tried to comfort me. He called his cousin all sorts of names and was on my side. But he kept pushing me back towards Pietro. His solution to my heartbreak was for me to throw myself into my sham marriage.

“You’re only saying that because it’s what the Famiglia wants!” I screamed at him. “When did you stop giving a shit about me!”

The guilt on his face told me I was right. He was working toward an agenda, not caring about his oldest friend. Interestingly, Piet has been nice this week. His cheerfulness has been a reprieve from all the angst. He took me out for brunch on the third day and although it was nice, his hand on my lower back as we walked through the cafe felt wrong. He is the only one who seems to get how shit it is to have your life at total mercy to what the Famiglia dictates.

We have bonded over our mutual hatred of the control being exerted over us. Now, it’s six nights since I last saw Wanda and I’ve sent several texts which have all received no response. Miserable, I sneak into her room again. I can’t sleep and pathetically, I think maybe if she still isn’t there, I could just sleep in her bed.

Maybe her scent on her pillows will help me drift off. I pad barefoot down the hallway wearing one of Bucky’s massive t-shirts and slip into Wanda’s room. I pause, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dark room before tip-toeing toward the bed. A dark form lies entangled in the blankets. She is home. She’s here and she didn’t reply to a single text or check I am ok. I want to throw things at her sleeping body. Wake her up with my hurt screams.

But instead, I walk around to the other side of the bed and slip under the covers. I crawl over to her and turn around so my back is to her. I rest my head gently on the bicep of her outstretched arm and she instinctively pulls me in close, curling her body around mine. I loathe how good it feels. My eyes fill with tears and my heart with self-hatred.

“Y/N,” Wanda groans, sleepy and exasperated, a few moments later.

“I hate you,” I reply, my voice thick as I battle the tears threatening to fall.

She is silent for a moment and then sighs. “I know, baby. I hate myself too. Go to sleep.”

And I do. In her arms, I slip into the easiest sleep I have had all week. I know that the morning will bring with it more heartache. She will push me away again. But for now, I feel safe and exactly where I’m meant to be. I wake up before Wanda. She is still wrapped around me, and every fiber of my being cries out for me to burrow deeper into her arms and go back to sleep. Thankfully, I have a tiny bit of self-preservation left, and instead, I gently peel her off me and creep back to my own bed. Sliding into the cold sheets feels like salt in the wounds of the past week, but I do it because I can’t bear the thought of waking alone in her bed again.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader angst

[orpheusredux]

Ride the Lightning

Summary: Eddie is hanging out in his girlfriend's bedroom when he discovers something... naughty and delightful.

Rating: NC17

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Reader. Established relationship

Warnings: Very, very smutty. No Minors! 18+ only. Canon compliant.

A/N: I have been writing this is fits and starts for weeks, but I just couldn't stop. I meant it to be a quick and dirty little drabble about a boy, and girl and her vibrator, but then I went and got feelings all over it and it turned out way longer than I intended too. Please consider reblogging, it really helps. Also, this way for my AO3 and my masterlists. 5433 wds

“Baby… what’s this?” 

You look up from where you’re lying on your tummy on your bed reading a trashy romance novel to see your boyfriend of six months holding…

“Oh my God, Eddie! Put that back!”

…Your vibrator. 

You met at a punk show in Indianapolis in the depths of Winter. Eddie was working the door, and when you walked up late to meet your pals who were already inside, he’d looked you up and down, given you a wrist stamp, and a wink, and ushered you in without asking for a dime.  

It was almost as if he’d known the way to your heart was free gigs. 

Later he’d “bumped into you” at the bar and bought you a drink. Then you bought him one. Then there were shots with the band. The next thing you knew the two of you were back at your apartment, sprawled across your ratty old sofa, his tongue in your mouth and your hand in his pants. You’d been dating ever since. 

Being with Eddie was both delightfully easy, and head-fuckingly bizarre at the same time. 

First of all, he was a metaller, and you’d only ever dated punks, stoners and on one less than stellar occasion, a party guy from California who wore pastel exclusively. You were not prepared for the level of energy Eddie brought to your relationship, the earnestness and often kind of confronting honesty. He told you he loved you three months in, and then proceeded to spend the next three months showing just how much. 

“I learned the hard way not to fuck around,” he told you once, when you’d pressed him on how he could tell someone he loved them so easily. “I know for a fact you don't always get that tomorrow you're putting things off till. You know?”

Which brings you to the second thing: Eddie was from Hawkins, that town down state that had caught fire and burned to the ground - like the whole town. They called it Indiana’s Centralia, now, after that town out East that’d been burning for 30 years? That was Hawkins. Everyone had been evacuated and there was still a danger zone three miles deep around the place.

Eddie talked about it sometimes, not a lot, but enough for you to know he wasn’t over what had happened to him there. All you knew was he’d seen some shit, been badly hurt and never wanted to go back. Except… as much as he hated the place, as much as it scared him and he never wanted to see it again, it was like he knew one day he’d have to. 

It was eerie, honestly.

He never took off his shirt, either. Not even in bed. You’d felt that the skin on his ribs and chest wasn’t entirely smooth, and once in bed he’d rolled over in his sleep and you’d glimpsed some shiny pink skin at his waist. You knew it had been bad, you knew there’d been fire, but those scars looked… well, they didn't look like burn scars. They almost looked like... well, it was silly what you'd thought. Besides, it had been dark and what the fuck did you know, anyway?

Glimpsing them hadn’t made you any less curious about him, but it did make you stop trying to get him to take his shirt off in bed.

You didn’t know how to tell him that he was safe with you, that he was the best boyfriend you’d ever had. Kind, considerate, thoughtful; that you thought it was quick, sure, but maybe you were falling in love with him. 

He’d introduced you to his only family, his uncle Wayne, who lived in Wyoming now, but came to visit him a lot, and the guys from his band - Gareth, Jeff and Dave - Corroded Coffin.

He shared a place with them in Speedway, you'd stayed there a few times. You loved the guys, really you did, but it was kind of a dump, so you spent a lot of time together at your studio on Canal Walk.

He wasn’t perfect - he could be impulsive, your dad worried about his “fiscal stability”, and for someone with so many secrets, he sure was nosey. 

Which was why he was currently standing in your bedroom holding your goddamned vibrator with a look on his face like he’d just won the sexual lottery. 

In his defense - not that he deserved any - you are the one who left the draw open, which was practically an invitation to pry as far as Mister Sticky Beak here was concerned. But still, a girl could keep some secrets, couldn’t she? 

You leap off the bed and make a grab for it - or try to - before he can push the little black button on the base of the thing. 

Eddie, being Eddie, holds it above his head, just out of your reach and says, “Now now, let's not be hasty,” as you try vainly to grab it.

“Eddie,” you whine and consider elbowing him in the ribs - but the other thing that glimpse of his scars has given you is a healthy respect for his body. You’d rather die than hurt him. You’ll have to resort to pouting and pleading instead. “Give it back. That’s private.” 

You give him a pointed look and hope he’ll pick up what you’re putting down. Naturally he doesn’t. 

“Is it though?” He leers at you, trying not to laugh right in your face. “I mean, I am sort of in charge of delivering the orgasms around here now, aren’t I?” 

You bark a laugh, despite yourself. “Oh, who are you, again? Cruise director of the love boat? My orgasms are my business, mister!” 

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” he says slyly, before putting on the worst - also the most annoyingly accurate - impersonation of you in the throes of passion, pitching his voice just below a falsetto squeak. “Oh Eddie! Oh Eddie, you’re gonna make me… I’m gonna… Oh, oh, oh!” 

Scars be damned, you poke him right in the armpit, and he drops the vibe with an “oof”. You grab it before it can hit the ground, and make to run away with it, but he grabs you - playfully -  around the waist and mock-wrestles you onto your bed. You land on top of him, both of you breathless and laughing by now, the vibe clutched tightly in your fist, up by his head. 

His hands slip down you back, over your hips and he grabs two good handfuls of your ass. In the six months since you started fooling round he has never missed an opportunity to show you how much he loves touching you, kneading your flesh, tracing all your curves. He likes it almost as much as he seems to like being touched by you. It’s one of the things you adore the most about him - he has a healthy respect and fulsome admiration for your big, bouncy body. 

“OK,” he says. “Let’s settle this like gentlemen. Let’s play a game…” 

You squint at him, not trusting him one inch - you trust him completely, but you also do. Not. Not one inch. 

“Like gentlemen, old sport! What what,” you reply, in a mock English accent.

“Let’s play Quid, Pro, Quo.” 

Now, you’ve never played a game called Quid, Pro, Quo before, but he just took you to see Silence of the Lambs last week - you don’t care what anyone says about psychological thriller, that was a dang horror film in disguise - so you think you have a pretty good idea what it means. 

“Ew, Eddie, I am not role playing sexy serial killers with you,” you say, and put up a bit of a struggle to get off him. 

That really makes him laugh, but instead of letting you get away, he wraps his arms around you and gives you a squeeze. 

“Oh Jesus Christ, no. That does nothing for me, either,” he says with a theatrical shudder, that only serves to rub you forcefully all over his body, your soft squishy boobs against the hard, warm planes of his chest. It makes something delicious tingle deep in your core. How’s that for quid pro what-the-fuck-ever, you get plenty of pleasure and enjoyment out of his body, too. 

“No, in my version of the game, we take turns offering each other something we think the other might want, and if they do, they have to…” 

He lifts a hand off your derriere and waves it around suggestively. 

“What like, I offer you a BJ, and if you want one - “ 

“If!” Eddie snorts. 

“ - you have to offer me ‘something of equal or greater value’?” 

“Yeah,” he says with a grin. “Something like that. And then you can counter it with something of greater value again.”

“Like a sexy version of ‘chicken’?” 

“Well, I was trying to make it classy, but we can go with ‘Sexy Chicken’ if that works. My idea, so I start…”

“Nuh huh, Big Fella,” you say, tweaking his chin with the hand not currently holding a goddamned vibe. “Ladies first… OK, what will you give me to get the hell off you.” 

“Oh no,” Eddie replies, nose scrunched up. “I wouldn’t even give you a dime for that. You’ll have to stay exactly where you are.” He grabs your ass again, and kind of settles in with a sigh. 

“Ungh, OK,” you say, rolling your eyes. “What if I… take off my bra.” 

“Without getting off me?” 

“Without getting off you, you perv.” 

He laughs and then bites his lip considering. “OK, I will give you a foot rub. Both feet. On… Thursday, straight after your shift at the coffee shop.” 

You gasp. You work nights at the campus beanery and your feet are routinely absolutely battered by the end of the night. 

Once, early in your courting, Eddie had been waiting for you at your place when you came home from one of those shifts. He’d waited for you to kick off your shoes, and slump in your favorite chair, before kneeling down next to you, and starting to knead your instep, heels, calves and the pads of your toes. Without being asked.

No offence to the many wonderful orgasms you’d shared with each other since you met, but that massage had been better than sex. 

Now that he was working the door at the club more regularly, Eddie wasn’t around when you finish work much anymore, so this offer was kind of a big deal. 

You start reaching behind yourself to unclasp your bra without saying another word -  only to then realize you are still holding the Goddamned vibrator. You chuck it up the bed by the pillows, and he grins down at you cheekily. 

“I’m on a goddamned promise, Munson,” you say, from somewhere inside your tee shirt. 

“Yeah, yeah, you know I’m good for it.” 

His eyes slip over your shoulders and arms as you wriggle and twist, pulling your straps off under your tee shirt and pulling the bra out the sleeve. Through two layers of denim you feel his cock twitch when your unfettered boobs press against his torso. He bites his tongue and sweeps his hands up and down your arms. His gaze is just as warm and soft. 

“Ta dah!” you say, flinging the bra away. You’re immediately jostled a bit by his laughter. “My turn again?” 

“Your turn,” Eddie agrees. 

You take your time thinking, trying to remember some throw away snippet of kinkiness he’d hinted at, or a time when he’d wanted to try something, but  you hadn’t. Finally, you mind settles on a movie you’d watched together one rainy afternoon that had ended in a mind blowing fuck on the floor of your en suite bathroom. 

“I will let you do that - you know - that thing, from 9 1/2 Weeks.” 

Eddie goes very still. “OK, I need to be clear here, are you talking about the striptease?” 

“Nope… the other thing.” 

“With the - the ice and the -” 

“And the blindfold.”

“Holy fuck,” Eddie said, eyes like saucers.  

You cross your hands on top of his chest and rest your chin on the back of them. “I play to win, Munson,” you say, all cocky. 

He laughs at you. “Oh my God, what have I got that would match that?” 

“What indeed?”

He looks at you thoughtfully, reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear tenderly, and then in the smallest voice you’ve ever heard him use, he says, “The next time we fuck - I’ll take off my shirt. I’ll take it off. For you.” 

It’s so not what you were expecting, so not where you thought this teasing, titillating game was going, that for a second you’re too shocked to say anything. Your voice just deserts you, until finally…

“Baby, you don’t have to do that.” 

“No, I know,” he says with a sigh, his eyes slipping away from yours, to focus on a tendril of your hair he’s playing with. “But I also know it’s weird - ”

You do push away from him then, because you’ve suddenly got this horrible weight in the pit of your stomach. Did you give him that idea? Had you made him feel pressured? 

“It’s not weird,” you say. He sits up too, as if he’s going to argue the point. So you stop him, with a hand to his chest. 

“It’s not weird,” you say, firmly. “It’s private. It’s none of my business, it’s - you don’t have to tell me or show anything you don’t want to.” 

He covers your hand on his chest with one of his own. 

“But what - what if I want it to be your business,” he says. “God, that sounded way better in my head. I mean - “ 

You turn your hand, take hold of his and squeeze, nodding for him to go on. 

“I don’t want us to have secrets anymore. I feel like I’m keeping something from you every time we fuck, and I don’t want to any more.”

“Then I’m happy for you to tell me anything you want to tell me. But Eddie, you have to know -” 

His eyes are so big and limpid in the dim light of your room and you just - you don’t want any secrets any more either. 

“You must know I l-love you,” you say finally, tripping over the biggest four letter word in the language. 

He smiles, warmly, but you can’t help noticing there’s sadness there too as he scoots up the bed. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, reaching behind his head to pull the back of his shirt over his shoulders and off. “You really do play to win.”

The tee shirt sails off the side of the bed and then there’s just him, his arms out wide, head lowered so you can’t really see his face, just his mottled torso and the top of his dear, beloved head. 

You knew it was going to be bad, but it’s actually even worse than that. He’s not looking at you, so you have time to school your face into a placid, relaxed gaze, to not to show what you’re really feeling, because you know the shock and horror would hurt him, even if he pretended it didn’t. 

Now you understand exactly why he’d never shown you before; why it took him half a year to trust you with this. You’re honest enough with yourself to admit if you’d seen the ruin of his chest in the first few blushy weeks of your romance, you might have run for the hills. 

Low, on his right side, there are gouges - not burns - angry-looking welts of pinkish, reddish skin that bulge and buckle like an infection that’s healed badly. Dotted around this scar are little rosy contusions, like blood has burst under the surface and congealed there. Deep scores - healed, but puckered - rake across his hip. They look like they could pop open again at the slightest provocation. 

You can’t keep back the gasp that comes when you take in the extent of the damage to his right side, though. There’s almost nothing there but scar; no nipple, or curve of skin over fat, muscle and bone. Instead it’s just a horribly twisted rent in the flesh where those parts of his anatomy should be. 

Without thinking, you reach out - to what? Sooth? Map? Verify? You don’t know - only to pull back before you can touch him. He catches your hand, pulling it towards his ruined pec, flattening your fingers, gently, like he’s trying not to spook you, and pressing them to the skin. 

“It’s OK,“ he says. “It doesn’t hurt. It’s healed. It’s actually…I was going to try and say it’s not as bad as it looks. But, ah, it is - it was - exactly as fuckin’ bad as it looks.”

“Oh Eddie,” you whisper, because there’s really nothing else you can say. The skin under your fingertips is warm and hard, feels rubbery and artificial. You feel what’s left of his muscles flex a little under it.

He lets go of your hand and takes hold of your shoulders. 

“You can’t tell anyone,” he says, urgently, whispering your name rather than one of his many pet names for you, squeezing your shoulders for emphasis. “Everything they say about Hawkins, the - the fire, the chemical spills. It’s all bullshit. I’ll tell you all of it, one day, if you want. But, it’s a long story. Can we - another time?”

You nod as if you understand, but you don’t. You’re not sure you ever will, or even want to.

“Do they - can you feel me?” You ask, sliding your hands so gently over the scars, touching. mapping each one. 

“Yeah, I can feel you,” he says. “I always feel you.” 

With your hand still on his chest, you kneel up, straddling his thighs, press yourself closer to him, leaning in to kiss to his mouth, slowly and thoroughly, so he knows - so he can be certain - this knowledge changes nothing except to make things more real, more sure between you. 

“I'm so sorry this happened to you. And I am so glad you survived.” You hear your voice catch on that last bit, feel the tears choking up at the back of your throat. 

He makes a soothing sound and wraps his arms around you. 

“I was mad about it, for a long time,” he says, his voice muffled where his face is pressed into your neck. “But - this is going to sound fucking insane - everything that happened brought me here.” 

He leans back and looks up into your eyes. You cup his dear face in your hands. 

“I don’t think I’d change a fucking thing - not even losing my goddamned nipple - if it meant I didn’t get to have you.”  His voice is gentle, soothing, and so full of love he’ll never need to say the words if he just keeps talking to you like that.

You kiss him then, because you’re not sure what will happen if you try to speak. You don’t want to cry all over him. He’d only end up taking care of your messy feelings, when you’re pretty sure he’s got big enough feelings of his own to deal with. 

You lean back and smoothing your hands over his bare shoulders and back to his neck, you say, “so, I guess that makes it my turn again, huh?” 

He barks one of his big braying guffaws, wraps his arms around you and squeezes. 

“Oh, we’re still playing? OK, OK, sure, babycakes. Whaddaya got?“ 

Out of the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of that goddamn vibe sitting by your pillow. The idea pops into your head before you’ve really thought about the logistics, but once it’s there, you almost can’t get it out. Could you? Should you? Really? 

You pull yourself off his lap and crawl up the bed, collapsing onto your back, the pillows under your head. Eddie twists to watch, and his eyes go soft when you pick up the vibe and turn it over in your hands. 

“What if I… ride the lighting, right here, right now, while you watch?” 

You both stare at each other for a second, until Eddie cracks, snickering like a naughty school boy. 

“Ride the what now?” 

“Ride the - the lightning, baby,” you say, giggling and waving the vibe. “That’s what they call it right? ‘Cause it’s electrical? “ 

“Oh my God, seriously? What the hell have you been reading?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know? 

“I’m pretty damned sure I would,” Eddie says, bemused. He crawls up the bed after you to lie on his side looking down at the little pink vibe in your hands. 

He reaches out, and thumbs the little black button on the bottom. The little thing starts up with a buzz that makes the breath catch in both your chests. Eddie hmms, and runs the tips of his finger over the soft, curved edge. You know he’s picturing it, picturing you spread out for him, pleasuring yourself while he watches. 

“OK,” he says, lifting the vibe out of your hands, and gently rolling it over the curve of your breast. It feels so good, even through your tee shirt, you can’t help squirming a little at the sweet, tingling hum of it. “I see your offer of a wanton display of feminine lust, and I raise you… me fucking you with this - where does it - oh, I see where that goes - me fucking you with this, while we both watch.” 

“Mmmmhmmm.” 

Without saying a word, you start pushing your sweatpants down your legs and trying to wriggle out of your tee shirt at the same time, which ends up getting you all tangled, so Eddie has to put the vibe down and help you get the shirt off.  

“Leave your panties on,” he says, breathless as he lies on his back to thumb open the button on his own jeans and start kicking them off. 

“I think we messed up the game,” you say, as you scoot back on the bed, and watch Eddie pulling off his boxers and socks. “I think I got too many turns.” 

“Hmmm?” Eddie hums, thoroughly distracted by your breasts and thighs, and his eyes are fixed on the damp patch you can feel slowly spreading across the crotch of your white panties. He’s not thinking about the game or his scars, or Hawkins. Just you. The joy floods through you like sweet honey in your veins, warm and delicious. You get to have him, have this. Fuck, yes. Life, God, the Universe - whatever - may suck ass sometimes, but sometimes, it’s also this good. 

He guides you to lie back as he slides up next to you. His cock, half hard and leaking, is pressed against your hip as he leans over you to kiss your mouth. Then there’s a click, and a hum as the vibe starts again. Still kissing you he starts to roll it, so gently from your collarbone, over the swell of your breast, to your nipple. 

“Eddie,” you hiss, arching your back. He pulls away from you, to turn his head and look down the length of your torso to the stiff, pink peak of your tit. 

He hums again, almost to himself, like he’s considering where to go next. When it seems like he’s decided, he drags the vibe slowly across your sternum, to your other nipple, and rolls the buzzing silicone over your tender flesh. He looks down at your chest. 

“God, baby, look at these pretty little titties,” he says, biting his plush lower lip. 

You look down at yourself, but the sight of him holding the buzzing tip of the vibe to your quivering nipple is too much. You mewl, and grip the sheets beneath you in your fists, pushing yourself into the warmth the vibe is creating. 

“Do you - oh, God - do you like them, Eddie?” 

He leans down to suck the stiff peak of your other nipple into his soft, wet mouth and lets it go with an obscene pop. 

“Oh Princess, you know I do.” 

You’re just holding on as the buzzing against your tender flesh starts to verge on pain. But it’s the kind of pain that shoots right through your core to your aching cunt, makes it flutter and clench. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” you whine, arching your back and rubbing your thighs together, before letting your legs fall open and tilting up your hips. 

“Hmmmm, so sensitive,” he says, his voice deep and rough. He tilts his face again to look down your body to your sex and his hair brushes across your cheek like a butterfly’s kiss. “Oh ho ho, what do we have here?“ 

“Please, baby," you whine, canting your hips again. “Please.”

“Needy girl,” he sing-songs, and starts dragging the vibe across your sternum and down, over your belly to the edge of your white cotton panties. “Oh no, you’ve made a bit of a mess here, Princess.”

You know that by “mess” he means the damp patch. You’ve been wet since he started this game, and now you’re practically flooding. Any other time you’d be embarrassed about that, and the noises you're making as he rolls the vibe across your pubic bone and your mons, but you just can’t summon an ounce of shame right now. All you want is that vibe where it belongs, buried in your pussy, or on your clit. You fucking want it. 

“Please, Eddie, don’t tease me,” you say, and your voice sounds so shaky, you’re shivering so hard your teeth are almost chattering. 

He slips the vibe over the thin cotton, to the damp patch. He rolls the vibe around pressing in. It almost makes you jerk, like he’s touched a live wire to your core. 

“Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” you start chanting, pressing your hips up into that hot buzz. “Fuck, yes. Right there, oh, oh Eddie.” 

Your head is thrown back, eyes clamped shut as you chase that feeling, fisting the sheets under you. You can feel it building so you chase it. If he keeps this up you’ll come just like this. 

“Hold on there, sweetheart,'' he says, not removing the vibe, but easing some of the pressure. “We’ll get you there, but not too soon, OK?” 

You can’t help the whine that follows. It sounds so needy and pathetic. Again, you’d be embarrassed, but it’s all you’re capable of right now. It makes Eddie chuckle, and worse, lift the vibe away from you altogether. 

“Edd-ie,” you pout. But he just taps your hip and starts to slowly peel your panties down. You lift your ass long enough for him to get them out from under your butt, and then he’s drawing them down your thighs, and calves, over your feet and off. And then, like the wild goddamned animal he is, he smooshes them against his nose and mouth and breathes deep.  

“Fu-uck, baby, you smell so good.” 

You respond to his teasing by spreading your legs wide and slipping your fingers between your wet folds. “Yeah? How does it look, Daddy?” You ask him, as his eyes fix on your cunt. 

He knows what a fucking buzz you get from him looking at your sex. You don’t know why, or what it means, but any time he looks at your pussy, you feel yourself get exponentially hotter, infinitely wetter. Part of you thinks you could just come from him watching you spreading while he tells you how good your little kitty looks, how much he wants it. Which is kind of what’s happening right now, God have mercy. 

He throws your panties over his shoulder, and leans down to nose your hand out of the way and suck your little rose bud into his mouth. It’s kind of an awkward angle, but that just makes it feel even better, unexpected and strange.

“Taste fucking good, too,” he says, pulling off your clit, breathless and a little dazed. His cock, hard and red, is jutting up from his lap, the tip wet with pre-come. You want to suck it, but before you can ask for it, he rolls the vibe over your mons, and presses it hard, against the left side of your clit. 

That really does make you jackknife up off the bed. You can feel the buzz everywhere, in everything, all at once. It’s humming in your cunt, your ass, even your nipples, it reverberates through your teeth and out the top of your head, where every single follicle is standing on end. There are thousand tiny bubble bursting under your skin, and you never want it to end. 

“Fuck yeah, baby,” you hear Eddie say, as if from a distance. “Fuck yeah, fucking ride it.” 

You realize there’s someone in the room wailing… it takes you a second to understand that that someone is you. You’ve got one hand fisted in the sheets, and the other is gripping Eddie’s knee. Your toes are curled into the blankets, and your eyes are clenched shut as the orgasm arcs through you like he’s just flicked the on switch and lit you up. 

It seems to go on forever, every muscle in your body going into spasm for long, hot seconds of pleasure, until it slowly starts to ebb away. 

You slap feebly at Eddie’s hand when it’s too much, when the intense pleasure has melded into a keen pain. He gently lifts the vibe away from you, thumbs the button and leans over to put it on your bedside table. 

For a couple of minutes, you can’t open your eyes or move a muscle. It’s like all your bones have turned to jelly. You lie there, spread eagle, panting, your hand still gripping his thigh.

“Fucking hell, Eddie,” you whisper, finally. “Fucking hell.” 

“Yeah?” 

You peel open one eyelid to look at him, leaning by your side. “Yeah,“ you breathe, only just able to nod your head. 

You attempt to sit up and turn to him. It’s a pretty pathetic attempt, all things considered and you end up sort of limply rolling towards him, the vision of that big, red, weeping cock of his is still fresh in your mind. “What about…” 

He’s got one arm across his lap, covering his groin. 

“Yeah, about that…” 

“Oh my God, did you just bust a nut from watching me come?” 

“You make sound so romantic,” he says wryly, reaching over the edge of the bed and snagging his Metallica shirt to cover his slowly deflating junk with. 

“Eddie,” you say, reaching for him. “Baby, that is the hottest fucking thing that has ever happened to me.” 

“Sure, sure,” he says, as he wipes up his lap and throws the tee shirt into the far corner of the room. But he lets you pull him on top of you, your loose, sweaty bodies sliding together a perfect fit. 

“You’re just too… God,” he says, snuffling into the crook of your neck and wrapping his arms and legs around you and under you in a sticky, sexy bear hug. “Too fucking sexy. I had to bust.” 

You both laugh, giddily. 

Eventually he rolls off you, and leans up on his elbow, his tousled head resting on his palm as he looks down at you. He’s so lovely, those chocolate eyes, and his plush, beautiful mouth, even the road map of pain on his chest that leads all the way back into his past, all the way to you two here, in this bed… even that has a kind of raw beauty. He’s a survivor, your man. 

“Eddie,” you say, reaching up to twine a lock of his hair around the finger. “I think I was wrong.”

He grunts a little as he leans over you to grab a pack of smokes from the bedside table. He pops two out and lights them both at the same time, like some Beatnik from the 60s, one for him and one for you.

He takes a lit smoke from between his lips and holds it out for you. You take it, wait for him to take his own out of his mouth and blow a plume of smoke over your heads, before you lean in and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.  

Leaning back again, you take a drag, blow a plume of smoke of your own, and smile. 

“Yeah,” you say, stretching languidly. “I think you are in charge of dispensing the orgasms ‘round here now.”

______

Please consider reblogging, it really helps.

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#eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie my beloved #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie x you #no y/n #established relationship #femme reader #orpheus writes #stranger things

[abiiors]

hey! I loved your Matty sick blurb yesterday 🥺 idk if you’re still taking blurb requests but I’d love to read a Matty x reader one where the reader has hurt their foot/ankle or something and Matty gets really protective whenever they try to move and look after themself (as they do stubbornly do) rather than letting Matty do it

hello hello <33, this is the last blurb i’m doing for now so i am no longer accepting requests for new ones. i’m so sorry if i missed yours. sometimes, they just don’t inspire any ideas but it’s very possible that two weeks from now i’d come up with something for them. so idk, stay tuned? can’t make promises tho…

quite sappy, but what else did we expect from me...

“no, no, no, where are you going!” matty hurries over to you, arm instantly around your waist to help you sit back on the bed. 

he’s been like this since yesterday—the overbearing mother hen—ever since you got back from the a&e with a fresh cast on your leg; from your foot to your shin. 

“need to use the loo, baby,” you tell him patiently. he’s only worried about you, just being the concerned boyfriend. plus you are still in pain despite the painkillers so you don’t blame him entirely. yet matty has been watching you like a hawk. 

“so you need to call me!” he scolds, pulling you up again. “no pressure on your ankle, that’s what the doctors said.”

you sigh, giving in. he’s right and when he’s holding you, it hurts less. plus it’s nice being taken care of.

“get out,” you tell him gently but firmly when matty settles you on the toilet. “you’re not watching me pee, matthew, i am not a child.”

he looks like he’s about to protest, throwing his hands up like a teenager before he walks out. he stops at the door though, pointing a finger at you. “i’m standing outside, yeah? call me when you’re done.”

with narrowed eyes, you wait for him to leave. finally some peace. 

he’s been like this for 24 hours now, hovering and over-protective and frankly getting on your last nerve the more he insists on doing everything for you. so you take your time in the bathroom, breathing a sigh of relief and then immediately feeling guilty. 

he’s only worried. it’s not like he’s doing it deliberately. so you get up, grabbing the counter for support and flush the toilet, immediately cringing once you realise what’s about to happen. 

matty bursts in not even two seconds later. “i told you to call me! sweetheart, you’re going to hurt yourself again.”

the tone of his voice grates on you. irritation bubbles in your chest. 

“you could have at least knocked!” you scoff, hobbling over to the sink to wash your hands. his hands are on your waist a second later, steadying you. “what if i were still naked, huh?”

in the mirror, you see him roll his eyes. “i’ve seen you naked a million times.”

“and what if i was still on the toilet?”

“well, you weren’t.”

it takes saintly patience not to scream out in frustration, even more so when he insists on practically carrying you back to bed. six more weeks of this. and then four more weeks of physio after that. the irritation burns stronger. 

“i can walk!” you try not to push him away. “well… i can hobble.”

“absolutely not!” matty responds firmly, about to pick you up and that’s when the restraint snaps. 

“jesus christ, can you stop!” you snap at him, immediately regretting it when his face falls. one thing you know about matty is that he has the remarkable ability to look like a kicked puppy when he’s sad. and right now, it’s working too well on you, making the guilt grow. 

“no, i’m sorry sweetheart, i didn’t mean to snap at you,” you sigh immediately taking hold of his face. he’s just worried, your annoyance was entirely unwarranted. 

“it’s alright,” he tries to smile, “i know you’re in pain—”

“it’s not that,” you cut him off quickly. to your utter annoyance, a twinge of pain shoots up your leg right then, making you groan. matty is onto you immediately and you let him lift you this time, let him carry you back to bed. 

“it’s not the pain, matty…” you start explaining once he’s placed a pillow under your leg to make you more comfortable. “i just, you’ve been hovering, love. you’re crowding me a little…”

“oh.” his voice is still small, “um, sorry, i just. i thought you needed help.”

“i do,” you hurry to reassure him. “of course, i need help. i won’t be able to do so many things on my own for a few weeks at least. it’s just… i don’t need you being over-protective 24/7. that’s… i’m sorry, love, but that’s a bit annoying.”

matty listens patiently, nodding along. “you’re right,” he admits finally, “i should let you have some space. i just, i don’t like seeing you in pain.”

“i know, and i love you for helping me out so much since yesterday but i’m fine, sweetheart,” you reassure him once again, feeling a bit lighter when he smiles a little. “the painkillers are helping.”

“you’d tell me though, wouldn’t you? if you need help?”

you nod at him instantly, “i will, i promise.”

matty does smile then, a proper smile, bending down to kiss your shoulder. “do you need me to go for a bit? i can do my own thing. leave you alone if that’s what you want…”

surprisingly enough, you shake your head. “no, i… just stay. and cuddle with me. we can watch something. i do like your company, matty. i just don’t want you treating me like an invalid.”

“cuddles and netflix sounds perfect.” the bed dips as he gets in, pulling you into his chest. “won’t treat you like an invalid, i promise,” he smiles again, dipping to kiss your head. 

#✉️ #♤: matty blurbs #matty healy blurb #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty x reader #matty x you #matty healy fluff #the 1975 #the 1975 fluff #angst to fluff

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 18

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: E Chapter warnings: Flashback-It's getting even hotter in here. There's a nipple! The flashback is sexy but hardly crossing to rated M. AN: Kit exists still. Yay? Can you believe Book One is about halfway done?!

Masterlist Kofi

~~~~~<3

It was nice having him back. She had missed him. More than she had thought she did. More than she expected. 

That was something she needed to tell him today. It was terrifying to consider admitting it to him though. It felt like if she told him, it would give him some sort of power over her. 

Was that safe? Was it so bad if it wasn’t?

“Tom?” Her voice was strangled, weak and oh how she hated it. He didn’t answer, probably didn’t hear her as he organized socks and folded underwear neatly. 

Mia was about to call out for him again, stronger she hoped but he called for her first. “How do you feel about travel?”

“What?” The question was random. 

“You and Sally- do you two travel often?” Tom leaned back, looking out of the closet at her from where he sat on the floor before unfolding himself and standing to move a few more things around. 

“No?” She stretched the word out. “Sally hasn’t even been outside of the city.” 

“Why not?” Tom stood back, admiring his little piece of space. He had a space in this home now and turning that idea around in his mind tickled him, bringing a smile to his lips that quickly faded when Mia sighed, drawing his eyes to her. 

“I haven’t exactly had the time.” As Tom made his way out of the closet and toward the bed, questions were clear on his face. “I’m lucky if I get two weeks of paid time off a year.” 

“But for holidays?” He took his time approaching her. 

“I work in a casino.” Mia laughed though bitterness tinged it. “I don’t get any holidays. I get 80 hours of paid time off and have to hope I get a few days left over to use for fun toward the end of the year after all the time off one of us being sick.” 

“80 hours?” Tom knew Americans tended to take less time off than was healthy or normal, in his opinion, but that was not much at all. If they typically work 8 hour days and five day work weeks, that meant they only took an average of - “That’s two weeks? And you have to use it for sick leave too?” 

“Yep.” Mia didn’t like how this conversation felt. “That’s normal.” 

“That is not normal.” 

“What’s normal to you?” It was easy to think they were the same, once she ignored the financial differences between them but it hadn’t occurred to her in the slightest that the cultural differences would potentially be fundamental. 

“Like six weeks once all’s said and done.” 

“That’s so long!” No wonder there were so many international guests at the resorts. They had time to travel around the world. “What do people even do with all that time?”

“We live,” Tom sat on the bed next to her. She was sitting cross legged on the edge of the bed -their bed. He was so close that her knee brushed against his thigh. “I can’t imagine having so much less.”

“We make the best of it.” Mia shrugged. “It’s not like wishing for more will make it change. And most of us can’t afford to take unpaid time off anyway.”

“If that wasn’t a factor, what would you like to do?”

This conversation felt more intimate than those they’d had before. This was personal and while they sometimes had deeper conversations on the phone, it felt different having him there with her. 

“I don’t know.” Mia leaned back on her hands, stretching her abdomen and trying to remind herself to stop slouching. “Travel maybe. This is all I’ve ever known, working. I can’t really picture anything different.”

“Would you want to go to London?” The question was out of his mouth before he had a chance to consider if he was pushing too much. It had caught her off guard too.

“Sure.” She said after a moment of thinking. “If I could ever manage the time off. I’d have to get a passport and figure out time off and how to afford it. It would be a whole thing.”

“You don’t have a passport?” Tom had always assumed most people had passports in America. It was certainly true of his home. 

“Nope,” Mia chuckled. “I never really thought we would need them. It’s not like I’m leaving the country any time soon.” 

Tom rested his hand on her thigh, bringing her eyes to his. “You’re in a international marriage now.” 

“Yeah, but-”

“Mia, there’s times where it may be advantageous for you to travel with me in the next year.” 

“For your career?” Mia didn’t know what she was expecting but she had hoped it was something different, something more. 

He realized he went the wrong route. It would take time to learn how they each communicated and avoid eachother’s landmines. 

“No! No. I just-” Tom decided to restart. “I told my mum about you. I- she’d like to meet you.” 

“Oh, does she know? Like, the real story?” Mia didn’t push his hand off her.

Tom laughed, “Yes, and she’d like to meet you.” 

“Is that a good ‘she wants to meet you’ or a bad ‘she wants to meet you’?”

“The good one.” The idea hadn’t occurred to him but Tom was flying by the seat of his pants. This seemed to be how he made the best choices anyway. “Mia, I’ve got a trip back home- London home, coming up in a few weeks.”

She knew that, they had talked about that before he had left but still, it made her sad. He had just gotten there and he was going to be leaving her again. These were things that were scheduled before he had even known her, let alone married her though. Had she any right to be sad? 

He had to go back home, just as he said. Las Vegas wouldn’t ever be home for him, she was sure of that. There wasn’t a lot of acting that happened in Las Vegas and surely he would need to act again. He had to work and live his life still. 

“I know,” She said after a long pause. “You can’t stay here forever. You’ve got family, friends and work that you’ve got to take care of.”

“You’re family now.” Tom pressed, fingers flexing against the soft of her thigh in a firm grip that lasted for only a second. “Both you and Sally. I would like for you to come with me.” 

“I can’t.” Mia’s heart sank. “Tom, I-”

“I know, I know.” Tom sighed, withdrawing his hand. “But I would like it if you could. If by any chance you could take the time off-”

“I can’t.” Mia interrupted.

“Hypothetically.” Tom continued talking over her, “How long would it take to get passports?” 

“A few weeks or so? Maybe a few months. Our government doesn’t move fast.” 

Tom’s shoulders slumped. Even if he could convince her to trust him with everything, including her financial ability to survive totally, she wouldn’t be able to go with. Oh well, it had been worth a thought. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted to introduce his little American family to his home until the idea had formulated. 

“Would you consider getting them?”

“I guess,” She still wasn’t sold on the fact that they would need them. She couldn’t imagine needing them or having the ability to take the time off to make use of them. “It would be nice to have the option to go if things ever lined up.”

“Thank you.” Tom reached for her hand, weaving his fingers between hers before pulling her hand up to his lips to leave a soft kiss on her knuckles. 

“Why do you do that?” She hadn’t meant to ask.

“Because I want to?” Worry flashed across his face. Had he offended her? “Is that alright?” 

“People don’t do things like that.” Mia quickly stood up but his hand on hers kept her from escaping into the living room. 

“They do if they care.” Tom’s voice was soft and firm, something she would struggle with trying to describe to Ashley later. “And I care.”

Tom left her standing there, stunned by the admission. Here she was, struggling all morning to try and find a way to tell him that she missed him and was glad he had returned. But he just threw out an admission like that as if it was nothing when if he had meant it, it could be everything. 

He had managed to say those things quickly and easily. It was effortless for him to simply say he cared. Small affections came easily from him. If he kept that up, she was in danger of really falling beyond the point of return. 

Was that his goal? Was he being honest? Acting in good faith? Did he really care or was he pretending, hoping that if he pretended long enough the feelings would become real?

Was she worrying about it too much? What if he felt exactly as he said? What if she really did fall in love with him? What if? What if?

What if?

~~~~~<3

Tom was lounging on the couch, his phone in hand when she joined him fifteen or so minutes later. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable one in the world. Part of her wished she had not been so stubborn and gotten one from a nicer store but oh well, what’s done was done.

Tom didn’t seem to mind. He hadn’t commented on the comfort level of the couch. Mia did feel a little bad about how poorly he fit on the couch though, seeing him overflowing off it. He was simply so tall and lanky that he didn’t fit well. 

Glancing up, he smiled at her as she sat down. Sally sat on the floor in front of the couch introducing her newest bear to her other stuffed animals all lined up sitting behind a small army of cardboard desks.

“She’s holding class.” Tom informed her with an amused smile. 

“Ah, a regular activity.” Mia grabbed her book and fidgeted with it. When they were comfortable with eachother, it was wonderful but it was finding those moments that Mia still struggled with. Tom seemed to fit right in and that terrified her. 

“I’ve got a script to pick up in London.” Tom locked his phone at set it on the arm of the couch. 

“What for?” 

“Another Marvel project.” 

“Do you like it?” She wasn’t sure what exactly she was trying to ask. 

“The character?” Tom smiled warmly, turning to face her more. “Very much so, yes. He’s very Shakespearean and there’s much depth and complexity to still explore with him.”

“It sounded like you did in interviews.” She said before thinking. 

“You watched my interviews?” Tom’s eyebrow rose and she realized they never were quite level.

“I mean, I- a few clips, here and there. I just-” Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to calm down and breathe. What did she have to be embarrassed by? “I wanted to get to know you more.”

“Ah.” The answer didn’t seem to disappoint him though he didn’t say more. He didn’t need to. The soft smile on his face said plenty for him. 

“And I missed you.” Finally, she said it. It felt good to say it. It needed to be said. He deserved to hear it. They deserved for it to be said. 

Warm fingers thread through her’s. When her eyes met his, he squeezed her hand with a smile. “I’m glad it wasn’t just me.” 

~~~~~<3~~~~~~<3

Tom gripped her ass under the skirt of her dress. The silky panties she wore were smooth under his hands but not nearly as smooth as her skin would be. He wanted to tease her and savor her but with how much he had drank, he feared quicker would be better.

Fingers struggled with buttons. It felt like the back of the dress was fastened with every possible fastening at the same time, designed by the devil to hamper men from sealing the marriage. He would swear he felt cords and buttons and a zipper track. What he wanted was the dress off of her. 

“Sorry, Darling.” Tom mumbled the words into the swell of her breast he had been kissing. 

With both hands, he ripped the back open. It was harder than he expected, taking a few yanks to rip the fabric to the small of her back. with the tension that had been holding her breasts in place gone, they sank slightly into a more relaxed, natural position.

Mia was self conscious for a moment. Her body had been through stresses and showed the wear from a life lived. Though she had never been uncomfortable with the size of her breasts, she knew they lacked the fullness of many women in their twenties. 

Her breasts were natural and that excited him. Pulling the bodice down, he was rewarded for his efforts with a warm palmful of soft flesh. He took a pink nipple in his mouth and ran his tongue over the nub. 

He needed her and he needed her now. 

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki, @jennyggggrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri @wizardcherryblossom  @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72 @soulpiercing @evedia

#Tom hiddleston x original character #Tom hiddleston x ofc #Tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x original female character #Tom hiddleston x reader

[royalsunshinehotel]

hi hi hi hi!!!! love your work! love your fics!!!!!! amazing and wonderful and lovely and wow💗💗 is it too much to request a gawain imagine??? he's had a long day and is annoyed at everything but he comes home to his wife and melts into her because she makes everything better. slow, loving smut in the end?? love your copperfield smut too⭐️ david and gawain are dreamy asfffffff

Crawl Home (David Copperfield x wife!reader, 18+)

thirty six days until monkey man!!

A/N: The first half of this fic is based on lore I've heard about Charles Dickens being regarded as "the man who invented Christmas." Could be filthier, but I digress.

It was the dead of winter, about to be Christmas in London, and it was supposed to be a good, cheerful time of year, but a calm holiday never seemed to be what laid in store for David Copperfield. It was bordering on ridiculous. The whole day, something hot, sharp, and painful had been stabbing him behind the eyes, and he couldn't get it to stop.

He'd been out of the house since the sun rose that morning, doing everything he could to get it together for the holiday. The two of you were actually going to leave the city, back to his Aunt's home, but the energy in the air told him that the trip was all but doomed.

You heard him coming back, stuck in his head, chatting to himself, more annoyed than he usually would have been.

He struggled with the key, and you don't even look up from your book. Usually when he's this heated, it's best to let him wear himself out.

"I just don't understand the need for everyone to go to the shops at once!!" He blew through the front door, slamming it behind him, stomping his boots clean of snow.

"Really? why would they do that?" You asked, knowing your words really weren't of consequence at that moment.

"It's like there was an announcement that everyone steps out at 11am, I could barely get out the front door of the publishers! Ridiculous! Any shopping? Why do we have to get people gifts!"

"David, it's Christmas, give the people a break." You tried, closing your book and putting it to the side.

"They would do the same! People don't want to show a shred of mercy for the less fortunate!" His hands were tight at his sides, his feelings simmering, almost at a boil.

"What do you mean?" You questioned, your husband ran a hand over his face, his curly hair fluffing up as he pulled off his hat.

"I nearly brought home two children that were 'available to work' on the corner near Darby St. Some rich toff was chatting to the Dad, god knows where they'll end up!" David and his big heart.

A familiar ache pulsed through you, "I'm so sorry lovey."

He just roamed the streets of London, seeing and feeling everything!

"I scared their father, I'm sure I can find them tomorrow though." You knew your husband. Tenacious was a word for it, but you should really start preparing to have two more on your Christmas vacation. Later, you thought.

"I worry for you, and your big heart."

"You won't be saying so when we've got two children to feed for Christmas." When, he said, he was thinking about it too.

"Hm, since we're adopting street urchins now, I should take advantage of our privacy." It was an inappropriate thing to say, but you knew if you didn't fuck him into a more temperate mood, there's no way the children would agree to come with him, even if he did find them again. He would, you knew he would but still.

"You are sitting in my lap." You had your chest in his face as well, however you gave him another moment to notice that.

"Back down to earth, are we?" You teased lightly, David's hands cold against your skin.

"...Have you been in your nightgown this whole conversation...?" You shivered as he pushed the gown off one shoulder.

"Yes. I think, since it's the holiday, you might take time off." Your words seemed muffled, heat pooling in your belly as David put his mouth to work on your breast, cold hands kneading the flesh casually, because he'd been doing it for years.

"You've been working so hard on your serials, I miss you." You all but moaned as David's freezing fingers teased your hardened peaks,

"How much?" He flashed a smile up at you, as you adjusted your legs.

"You should feel!" You prompted, and a cold hand wandered down to your dampening heat. You moaned loudly at the contrast of temperature, pitiful and absolutely perfect.

David whined, in the way you like.

Now normally, the two of you would tease more, enjoy each other with hands and mouths. Its a favorite past time for you like to hold his member in your hands and watch it twitch and grow...another day perhaps.

For now, you're not rushing, but you're not going to wait. You warm your hand a moment before pulling David free of his trousers. He sat perfectly still, like a good boy. He deserved a treat after the day he had.

Helping you, he took a large hand and bunched your nightdress to your hips, and he supported you, other hand on your ass as you mounted him.

He was simply so lucky to have you.

With a wet, filthy sound, you took your husband in deep. It was supposed to be a treat for him, and here you were, barely a thought in your pretty little head.

It was his fault, his cock was too lovely!

He paused, to let you catch your breath, but with a squeeze to your rear, you begin to move, to ride.

"You always feel so good inside me," your breathy little whine prompted a nip to your collarbone. The soft velvet of the chair only heightened how your hair stood on end.

You'd wanted to take control, you'd wanted to come after him like an avenging fertility goddess, taking what you want.

And yet, like most things, you were doing it together.

"I'll always crawl home to you." He murmured, trying everything he could to stay calm. Not too calm, but calm enough.

"You'd better keep your big heart wide, I know sometimes it hurts." You crooned into his ear as he tightened his grip on you, just as greedy as he needed to be.

"It's all worth it for this comfort I receive from you, dear wife." He groaned, humming against your skin. You smirked, bringing your hot breath up to his ears.

Cold. Not for long!

You tugged his earlobes between your teeth, pulling ever so gently, as David melted under you.

A few more rolls of your hips, and you clench down around him, muscles keeping him hostage in you as you milk him for all he's worth. You get to keep him safe, when he's inside you like this.

"What was that, worrying about gifts for the family?" You grabbed his chin, pointing his face towards you.

He smirked, before giving you a sweet, chaste peck, "Once again dearest, you are all that I need."

#david copperfield #david copperfield imagine #dev patel #dev patel imagine #david copperfield smut #dev patel smut #i am manifesting a monkey man popcorn bucket at amc don't mind me #david is chatty nobody move

[blooming-violets]

43: giving them a piggy-back ride

[from this prompt list] [feel free to request a prompt from the list]

[tasm!peter parker x reader]

The Piggy-Back

"Are we there yet?" Peter dragged his feet behind you as you trekked ahead. "Can't I just swing us there? It would be so much faster."

You stopped walking and turned around with a huff, "Peter Benjamin Parker, you are worse than a child!" You stuck your finger out at him in an accusatory manner. "We have to walk six blocks. That is not far. We do not need to swing everywhere. And, besides, it messes up my hair and I get wind burn. I'm sick of swinging. I would like to show up to this event not looking like I crawled out of a wind tunnel."

The two of you were attempting to walk the few blocks to your friend's house party. It was colder than you anticipated outside and, you had to admit, that swinging there would be faster. Still, you didn't want to risk the hard work you put into doing your hair. No amount of hairspray could hold it in place after a swing through the city.

"But it's cold," he pouted at you. His bottom lip stuck out to resemble a toddler about to throw a tantrum and his eyes widened into pleading, round saucers.

The look made you burst into laughter, "You're pathetic. Aren't you supposed to be a tough crime fighting superhero?"

Peter shook his head, keeping up the pout, "Not when I don't have a suit on. Now I'm just a normal person who's cold and sick of walking." He shuffled up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, hiding his face into the collar of your jacket. "Carry me the rest of the way."

You gave him another laugh, "You should be the one carrying me." You untangled yourself from his grasp and bent your knees. "Hop on, Spidey. I'll piggyback you. It's only two more blocks."

His amused giggle filled you with joy, "I'll squish you."

"Give it a try! I'm stronger than you think."

Peter didn't question you further and he carefully hopped up onto your back with a kind of grace that only Spider-Man could manage. The second his weight hit you, you took a few running steps forward to keep your balance, before quickly finding your footing again. He wasn't as heavy as you thought he'd be but it was still a struggle to stay up right.

You gave a grunt and attempted to stumble onward to your destination, "Alright. I got this."

His laughter filled your ear and tickled your cheek as he nuzzled his head next to yours, "I'm impressed you didn't immediately fall flat on your face. I should travel like this more often."

You responded with another grunt, struggling to get any words out as you concentrated on not dropping him. The two of you made it approximately one full block before your legs gave out. Peter jumped off and wrapped a protective arm around your waist right before your knees could hit the concrete.

"Careful," he warned with a smile. He steadied you back on your feet and planted a kiss to the top of your head. "I told you I would squish you. Come here, it's my turn now."

He bent down nice and low for you to scramble onto his back instead. You clambered on top of him, a lot less graceful than he had been getting onto yours, and wrapped your legs around his waist. He hoisted you up higher with ease and started a steady jog down the street.

"Now you're just showing off," you rolled your eyes but smiled as you tighten your grip around his neck.

"I'm making up for the lost time. It took you a solid five minutes to walk one block. Slowest horse I've ever ridden."

You gently slapped his chest in protest, saying sarcastically, "You ride a lot of horses, Peter? And, relationship tip, never refer to your partner as a horse."

He chuckled, "Yeah, the second it came out of my mouth, I regretted my choice of words." He slowed his jog as he approached the party. "Oh god, I can hear the music already. Terrible choice. Awful music. Let's go back home instead."

You couldn't hear what he could but you tried to protest, "No, we came all this way. Your antisocial behavior and disagreement on music choice is not an excuse to miss out on our friend's party."

You felt him tighten his grip around your legs and could see the glint of a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Who's riding who?" He asked.

"What are you talking ab-"

Before you could finish the question, he spun around and started a swift walk back in the direction you came.

"Peter!" You gasped.

"This horse says that it's time to go home. You have to be better at controlling your animals if you want them to listen to you!" He quickened his step. "Hold on tight."

He didn't have to tell you twice for you to know what was about to happen. You tightened your arms around his neck and braced yourself for the inevitable jerk as he shot the two of you up into the air. Taking the time to get dressed up, just to skip out on your friend's party right as you arrived, wasn't the sort of disappointment you would have felt a few years ago. Instead, you were relieved as the wind tossed back your hair and you clung to your boyfriend's back. Even hurdling 50 feet above the ground, you felt safe tucked against him. If Peter didn't feel comfortable being somewhere, he would simply just not go. It was a quality you had learned to admire about him even if it often led to moments like this.

"Promise me that the music was actually insufferable and that we would have had a terrible time," you shouted over the wind whistling in your ear.

He nodded, calling back, "They were playing Cotton Eyed Joe, babe. I promise you, this is for our own sanity. I'm saving you from a night of pain."

"Ew," you grumbled. "Fine but at least swing us to the nice Mexican restaurant instead. We look cute. Let's not waste it. Might as well make use of our night."

"One sexy, hot date night, coming right up!"

#tasm #tasm peter #tasm peter parker #tasm x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #andrew garfield #tasm andrew garfield #peter parker tasm #touching prompts #the piggyback #the piggyback fic #blooming violets #blooming violets fic #blooming-violets