#opening an idea i wrote out in a flurry the other day. staring at it.

[altruistic-meme]

the desire to write is AGGRESSIVE but the mind is unwilling

#sitting here staring at my laptop as it slowly dies #opening a doc. closing the doc. opening a wip. staring at it. scrolling. #opening an idea i wrote out in a flurry the other day. staring at it. #rereading part of a wip. sighing. backing out. opening it again. #searching writing prompts. looking back at my wips. #looking at the silly idea again. looking back at writing prompts. #opening my list of lyrics. staring. STARING. pulling one like 'maybe??' #putting it in a doc. #ignoring the doc. #send fucking help #we were finally free of the brain block why is it suddenly back #shh ac

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

How about a part two of Stella x owl reader? Fights between Stolas and Stella have become increasingly rare and his mood is improving, Stolas decides to ask about, unlike Stolas, Stella knows very well how to keep her piece of paradise a secret for now. Until one day y/n decides to visit Stella under the guise of business and to give his dear little owl a "luxury massage session", but things get a little out of hand when Stolas is caught with Blitzo. (you can ignore it if you want)

Stella with her Secret Owl demon S/O

Stella, for the first time in weeks, was having a good day.

They had actually become far more common in the weeks since your confession.

She had found herself being far less stressed as of late. So much so, she had only hadn't had a fight with Stolas in a full week.

She was relaxing in her study, enjoying a good cup of tea.

She was reminiscing on your night together, the next morning you had given her a small stack of letters.

They were all addressed to her, the condition of some of them implied they were written many years ago.

It only took a single letter for her to realise they were love letters.

Dozens of them.

She took her time, pouring over each letter. Taking in every word and detail. Emotions swelling in her chest as she read each one.

It was perhaps the most romantic thing she had ever seen.

The letters acted much like a record of your feeling for her.

It started from your more innocent affection for her as a child, all the way into your growing feeling for her in your youth, when you realised your feelings for her were beyond friendship.

And into your discovery of her betrothal to Stolas.

You poured your heart into each letter, telling her everything. Everytime you thought of her, how much you missed her, berating yourself for not just telling her how much you loved her.

You wrote about how much it pained you to remember you'd never get to tell her how much he loved her.

It was a roller-coaster of emotions. Some letters made her laugh. Others brought her to tears.

And by the end, she was clutching the letters to her chest. Her chest swollen with emotion as she experienced so many emotions all at once.

Her marriage with Stolas was... less than voluntary. The whole union being mostly political, arranged by there parents.

She had hoped love would bloom after Octavia's birth. But it hadn't, and after that she knew love was not meant to be.

But you, you genuinely loved her, for her.

You dedicated your life to being worthy of her.

You didn't want her for her status or wealth, you wanted her, for her.

She cood to herself dreamily, fantasising about your time together.

Her fantasising was cut short when there was a neck on her study door.

She quickly placed the letters into her draw before asking who it was.

Much to her surprise, it was none other then Stolas who entered her office. Her 'husband' looked about nervously, rightfully so, she supposed as he stepped in.

'Hello, uh, Stella.' He said nervously 'may I talk to you for a moment.'

Stella had a colourful collection of words she wanted to use at him. But instead she simply asked 'What do you want?'

Stolas cleared his throat, clearly not surprised by her callous tone.

Taking a few steps he began 'I've noticed this past few weeks you've been less... confrontation.' Stella's eyes narrowed, but she held her tongue.

'And I was just thinking, if perhaps we could come to an agreement.'

That actually peaked her interest. 'What kind of agreement?' She asked warily.

Stolas looked thrilled she hadn't thrown him out yet. 'Well, I was thinking we could put our differences aside, put the whole incident between us behind us. FOr Octavias sake.' He quickly cut in. 'Our constant arguing has taken quite the toll on her.'

Stella clenched her hands, he claws digging into her palm. 'For octavias sake...?' she asked incredulously.

Rage swelled in her chest 'How fucking dare you!' She told him through a scowl.

She pointed an angry finger at him. 'You, YOU! Cheat on me! Betray our marriage. Betray our family. And you want me to act like nothing happened. "For Octavia's sake"?'

She stood up, she couldn't even look at him. 'You disgust me. Tell me, would you give up your little fucking Imp? If it would make everything like it was, would you give him up?'

Stolas didn't answer, instead opting to look off to the side. Stella just sighed, shaking her head.

'Your a selfish, pathetic coward. Hiding behind your own daughter, what a disgrace.'

Before she could tell him to get out, there was a knock at the door. 'Who is it?' She shouted.

The door opened slowly, revealing one of the palace Imps. 'What do you want?' She asked harshly.

'T-theres a Lord (Y/N) here to see you. They say it's a business matter.'

Stella instantly perked up, holding back a smile as she rose to her feet. 'Thank you. I shall greet them personally.'

Getting up she walked past Stolas, not even bothering to give him a second glance.

She made her way to the entrance, and much to her annoyance, Stolas had seemingly decided to follow her, for some reason.

She quickly made it to the entrance, you were waiting there, anxiously adjusting your attire.

Hearing her approach you turned, your face lit up when your eyes layed apon her, Only for it to instantly dull upon seeing Stolas.

Still wearing a smile, you reached forward and took her hand before planted a gentle kiss upon it.

'Lady Stella. Its a pleasure to see you after so long. You still look as enchanting as when we were children.' You tell her, sending butterfly's through her stomach.

The moment was sullied when Stolas but in, 'Children?' The butterflies in her stomich instantly falling dead. 'Do you know each other?' He asked.

Before Stella could speak, you cut in 'Me and Stella were childhood friends.' You told him extending your hand. 'Its been some time since we've met in person.'

Stolas took your hand, giving it a firm shake. 'Is that so? Stella never mentioned you.'

'Well until recently' you rolled your head, your smile just holding back a scowl. 'I was beneath notice. I've only achieving my status relatively recently.'

'I was from a lower house, you see, a vassel of her family. And through that, me and Stella became friends.' You gave her a warm look, staring for several moments.

Stolas went to ask another question but Stella cut him off. 'You had business to discuss, did you not (Y/N)?' She asked.

You snapped to her, delighted to not have to talk to Stolas any further.

'Yes, i do' you said happily 'I believe a mutually beneficial arrangement could be made, between our houses.

'Excellent' she proclaims happily. 'It been so long since we've had any real business. And perhaps we could use the chance to catch up. It has been far too long.'

You looked at her fondly, before Stella turned, signalling for you to follow.

You did, turning to Stolas as you left 'It was a pleasure to meet you, your highness.' You told him, the slightest hint of disdain in your voice.

The two of you made your way to her study, you opening the door for her, giving a slight bow as she entered.

She giggled at your antics, before you followed her in, shutting the door behind you.

As soon as the door shut Stella instantly spun around and pinned you to the door, locking you in a heavy kiss.

'You have no idea how much I've wanted to do that.' Stella told you, after breaking the kiss.

You just chuckled before raising an eyebrow, 'oh, i think I do.' You told her playfully.

Stella just giggled, giving you a peck on the cheek. Pulling away she got up and went over to her desk.

You followed close behind, wrapping her in a hug. 'Now, now (Y/N), we have business to attend to.' She told you, patting your arm.

You just chuckled, 'Stella, I didn't really come here for business. I came to spend time with you.'

Stella was a little taken aback, mostly for not seeing it, as on reflection it was quite obvious.

Kissing her neck you slid your hands onto her shoulders, gently rubbing the muscles around her muscle.

Stella moaned at your touch, this only emboldened you, as your hands rubbed deeper and rougher.

Digging your fingers into her shoulder muscles. Stella released a flurry of moans, gripping her desk as you worked over her shoulder blades.

You moved down her spine, slowly undoing her dress as you went.

Reaching the bottom she turned to you, moving her shoulders, her dress fell, leaving her in all her natural glory.

You took her then and there, the two of you wrapped in passion, you held nothing back, releasing years of passion.

When stella became more vocal, you tried to get her quiet down, in fear ztolas might catch you.

As you got rougher, she just cried out 'I want him to hear!'

You went on for a while, after you finished, you held Stella close, the Owl demon curled up on your lap.

You preened your lover, running your hands all across her body before gently plucking any feather you didn't deem worthy to stay on your perfect mate. Afterwards the two of you got dressed.

You meticulously inspecting Stella, head to toe, ensuring she was perfectly groomed from head to toe.

The two of you leaft her study, ensuring no evidence of your little escapade was left behind.

The small collection of Stella's feathers, were delicately placed in your coat pocket.

You followed her into the garden, strolling through the large hedges that sat behind the Goetia palace.

Confident you where alone, you held Stella close, sharing a public display of affection.

You made it deep into the hedges, finding yourself beneath a large tree. It was a beautiful reminder that there was still life in hell.

You took her hand, you lead her beneath the trees majesty.

You pushed your body against hers, pinning her to the tree as you locked your lips with her's.

As you deepened the kiss, The distinct sound of snaping twigs drew your attention.

Snapping your head to face the noise, you found its source.

An Imp had fallen through the hedge, leaving a large hole in his stead.

You locked eyes with the Imp and sighed, 'well, this won't end well' you thought.

The Imp seem to think the same thing, before you both exclaimed 'Well, Fuck!'

Thanks for the request. I really love writing for both Stolas and Stella, as I feel there just isn't enough story centred around them as individuals. It always about there family or Stolas and Blitzø. But I really enjoyed the request. I hope you enjoyed.

#helluva boss #helluva boss headcanon #x reader #headcanon #helluva stolas #helluva boss x reader #helluva stella

[gojology]

Lovebirds.

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 |  omg this is my first request. ilysm anon, im now feelin super cool. also, i just realized i put recc (as in recommended) instead of requests. i’m super stupid LOL. anyways, im touch starved too dw bby, i’m servin u up a long one since i rlly like this request and after all u r my first! 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo x Wife! Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 2307 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | None! 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | Coming home from a long mission in America, precisely 1 year, you’re excited to catch up on Gojo’s students, Nanami, and just Gojo in general.   Leaning out of the car window, resting your arm against your purse, you sighed. A humid wind brushed against your skin, tickling you. It had been quite a while since you had been in Japan, spending almost a year on a huge mission in America. You had killed a battalion worthy amount of special grades.   You spent most of your time in America in mostly horribly rundown places, equally as infested with curses. Although you found yourself enjoying America’s natural beauty, further away from the city life that many of the Americans found themselves enjoying, you much preferred Japan. after all, it was your home, and where you met Gojo Satoru. It would be another day until you could return, and you had gone through hundreds of scenarios of finally being in his arms again, but nonetheless, you were ecstatic at the thought of your husband’s touch.   Your phone’s notification chimed loudly, you threw your phone onto the other seat, heart jumping up to a high rate. It was a recording of Satoru loudly yelling, “OPEN YOUR FUCKING PHONE!” with a flurry of giggles afterwards.    Ijichi jumped, turning left and right. Whispering under his breath, he let out an exasperated sigh, switching the music channel.    The recording was mostly because of the time you had to ghost him due to work. Gojo had snuck on and recorded it, doing some magical tech stuff and giving you the custom notification sound. You had kept it that way ever since, since secretly, you enjoyed that you were so badly wanted by Gojo, that, and you had no idea how to change it back.    But the custom notification was sweet as well.   You smiled to yourself every time you heard it, a familiar twinge of pain flashing inside of you whenever you realized you wouldn’t be able to see him for a while.   Well, today, and the days after that would be different. You’d be able to finally see Gojo again, and his new students that he always frantically texted you about. Nanami, an old friend of Gojo, and also an old friend of yours, would also be there to welcome you back, you found yourself reminiscing about them.   You had heard so much about them, one of the kids being Sukuna’s vessel, you wondered how Gojo could contain such a fear, being around the kid at all times, he always told you about how the kid was actually energetic and happy and an overall great kid, you had heard about Nanami, finally coming back into the jujutsu sorcerer field of work, even though you always found that he still had a thing for finances.   You shook your head, “Save that shit for later, (Y/N).” muttering to yourself, you didn’t want to think of anything but Gojo, after all, it had been one fucking year of being deprived of the man you loved most. You were practically starving for the guy, in more ways than one.   Ijichi gulped, facing towards you, one hand on his steering wheel, “Forgive me Mrs. Satoru, but um.. Forgive me if I misheard, but I think I heard your phones notification go off.. Due to the ah- incredibly loud profanity.”   Now just realizing that you had completely forgotten about the phone notification, you nodded your thanks to Ijichi, a warmth rushing to your cheeks before opening up your phone.    In the small, rounded box containing Gojo’s message, he wrote in all caps, “SUGAR, MY BELOVED, MY QUEEN, HOW CLOSE ARE YOU? I CAN’T FUCKING WAIT I’M LITERALLY BOUNCING UP AND DOWN IN OUR BED.”   Smiling to yourself, you furiously texted back, “Calm down honeybun, I’ll be there in like, 24 hours, I’m not even fucking close.”   You almost instantly got a DM back, making you jump a bit in your seat. Even with the 5 years of friendship, and the 3 years of relationship, and the 2 years of marriage, he still almost always texted you back as quickly as possible.   “God I can’t fucking wait for you to meet the kids! We’ll keep it a surprise, yeah? We have a bunch of treats, and we also got the kids to get some gifts for you! How thoughtful aren’t they? They’re MY offspring by the way, so like, you know, whenever you want a kid, it’s your call ;)”   You snorted to yourself, smiling. He genuinely seemed so excited, and it was all shining through even though it was from a screen.    “Maybe in a few years, I don’t even wanna imagine a little you.”   Despite the excited, bubbling feeling brewing bigger and bigger in your stomach, you figured it’d be best to sleep before the chaos. Happily sighing, you laid down, using your purse as a pillow, drifting into a blissful sleep.  ‧₊˚✩彡.   You awoke to a sudden halt, Looking around your surroundings, you figured you were home. Ijichi looked like he was damn near about to fall asleep on the steering wheel.   Well, maybe that’s what 24 hours of constant driving did to you. You fished around in your purse, silently cursing looking for a water bottle.   “Here, Ijichi, looks like you ran a marathon.” you grinned, handing the slightly crumped water bottle to him.   He beamed as if a guardian angel had descended down and gave him a trillion dollars.   “Mrs. Satoru! You really mean it? The ride was nothing, I was merely instructed to do so and I would’ve done it happily regardless.”   You waved your hand, as a dismissal of the conversation. “You overwork yourself Ijichi, go catch a break, on me. If Gojo tears you apart, tell him he won’t be getting any pussy from me for another year.”   Ichiji nodded vigorously, before dashing off, probably towards a massage center, God that guy needed it. ‧₊˚✩彡.    Gojo frantically hopped up and down, it had been a day, now he was just waiting for you to bust through the door in your wild hair, his legs sprawled onto the whole of a couch, he stared at the ceiling, a dopey smile spread across his face.     “Satoru. (Y/N) will not even want to be associated with you, looking at your current state.” he remarked, staring at the sorcerer with his strikingly dead eyes.     “Nanami, how the fuck am I supposed to act calm?! I’ve waited for this moment for ONE YEAR! Does my hair look normal?!”    “Your hair looks just like an albino porcupine, just as usual.” Flipping the page of his newspaper, he sighed, rubbing his temples. “I will never understand how someone like (Y/N) would be.. Interested in you, Satoru.”     Gojo paid no attention to the insult Nanami had so clearly made, his ears were perked up, eavesdropping on a distant conversation coming closer and closer.     “Gojo-Senpai was telling me about this movie while training my cursed energy! He basically spoiled the whole thing but he told me that the main character was super annoying but apparently she dies in the end in the most gruesome way possible! It’s worth the watch, your soul will feel cleansed as soon as you see her lifeless body!”     “Yuuji, you literally spoiled the whole thing to me just now.” Fushiguro calmly stated, looking bored out of his mind.     “Oh, oops.” Yuuji rubbed the back of his neck. He smiled coyly, tightly hugging his present.    “What’s with the decorations, Gojo-Sensei?” inquired Nobara, stroking her warm toned brown hair. She had figured it was something about the presents that Gojo had forced the trio to get, but he never told them who it was for.    The room had been decorated with various balloons and confetti, scattered about, on the table and the ground. A cake box wrapped with a gigantic bow limply guarded whoever was brave enough to get their hands on something that Gojo seemed to be protecting with his life.    A pink table cover with a crudely drawn Gojo and what would seem to be a girl, a heart in the middle of the pair. In a horrible font with an even awfuller text, the text on top and at the bottom of the drawing proudly stated:    “WELCOME BACK QT”    “-YOU’RE HUSBAND AND THE CREW”    Nobara stood in distaste, trying to disguise the face she made. The drawing, the misused you’re, and the overall poor design choice was enough to almost make her vomit.     Nobara, about to make her distasteful statements about the whole mess, was suddenly shut up as Gojo started hopping up and down, looking directly at his phone.   “SHE’S COMING! SHE’S COMING! EVERYONE IN YOUR PLACES!”    Now, seeing Gojo freak out wasn’t outside of the ordinary, but it was to see him freak out to this extent. He was hopping up and down, blabbering about a certain woman named (Y/N). Nobara was pretty sure that if a curse attacked right now, even a special grade comparable to the one with the uncomplete domain could completely crush Gojo, the guy seemed completely unaware of the example he was setting to the kids. Even Yuuji stood in disbelief, and he had seen multiple tantrums by Gojo.   Nanami, however, licked his finger and flipped the newspaper page. A face of boredom obviously displayed.     Nobara, preparing herself to chew Gojo out about how utterly stupid and embarrassing he made the whole class of jujutsu sorcerers look like, stopped wide eyed as she looked at the doors slide wide open. ‧₊˚✩彡.    You stood, shyly, looking at the ground. Gojo dove headfirst into your arms, laughing like a maniac and digging his face into your shoulder. You breathed in his scent, scanning the room.     Three teens, sat wide-eyed, backs straight as they looked at you with eyes you couldn’t quite read. All three of them held presents.     The one with eyelids underneath his eyes (which you assumed was Yuuji, the vessel of Sukuna) eyed you curiously, his eye twitched.     The other boy, one with wild black-blue hair, sat mouth agape, before closing it. He looked like he was about to say something, before stopping entirely and hugging his present closer to his chest.    The warm haired girl darted her eyes between you two, seemingly trying to put the puzzle together.     Nanami put the newspaper down, glancing over to you two.    “This is obviously Gojo-Senpai’s wife. He hasn’t seen her in many months, and as you can see, really really misses her.” he paused, a small smile spreading on his face, a rare sight.     “I don’t even know why myself, but what can you do with lovebirds?” he thought aloud, his attention now focused to the two of you furiously making out, hands in places Yuuji and the crew didn’t need to see.    “Satoru, (Y/N), leave the kissing for later. Don’t you see the kids?”     You detached yourself from his mouth, panting for breath. The air being exhaled out of his nose fanned over your face, you had just now realized the kids again.     “Satoru, lets sit down. I bet the kids are surprised. “ you motioned to the couch. Gojo whined.     “What? They’re not that dumb, they can tell you’re my wife or at least, you’re my girlfriend, just by the way we kiss right? Isn’t this telling enough?”     “You didn’t tell them about me, ever did you?”     He sighed in defeat, holding tightly onto your arm as you dragged him over and sat down on the comfortable couch, opposite of Yuuji and the crew. Nanami scooched over, before finally getting up to pull another chair from somewhere else. Grunting, he excused himself from the room.     “YOU HAD A GIRLFRIEND, GOJO-SENPAI? AND DIDN’T TELL US?” Yuuji questioned, looking like he was about to faint.    Gojo laughed, snuggling deeper onto you, almost like a koala.     “She’s my wife, aren’t you, sugar? Did you even pay attention to anything Nanami said? He literally said she was my wife.”     Megumi made an obvious gagging sound, but even he didn’t seem as bored as he was usually. He actually looked intrigued.     “Why didn’t you tell us, Gojo-Senpai?” the girl nagged, slamming her fist down on the table.     Gojo smiled, “Uh, well, I wanted it to be a surprise when she came back.”     “Couldn’t you have told us that you had a wife or something?” Megumi butt in.    The door slid open, Nanami coming in with a wooden stool.     “Knowing Gojo-Senpai, that probably went over his head.” grunting as he placed the wooden stool down and sat, he opened his newspaper again.     “Where do you guys know eachother?”    “Was Gojo-Senpai handsome back in highschool too?”    “Do you know what lipgloss Gojo-Senpai wears?”    “Gojo-Senpai, how did you know you loved her?”     “Gojo-Senpai, can we eat now?”     “Do you know why Gojo has such a horrible sweet tooth?”      Before you could even respond, Nanami put his hand up.     “Now, now, lets let the happy couple settle down.” he cleard his throat, not even making eye contact with anyone but the newspaper.     An audible chorus of groans sounded, “What do you expect us to do? We literally just met her!” moaned Yuuji.    “Weren’t you the one that literally asked if we could eat yet?”    Yuuji immediately shut up afterwards.     “Yuuji, she just came back from a 1 day trip. She should be laying down comfortably with Gojo-Senpai and they should be catching up. You’ll have the opportunity to talk to her and learn about her later. Right now she needs space.”    “But-” Nobara whined, clasping her hands together.    Nanami turned to Fushiguro, but even he had his mind set. “I didn’t even begin to think that Gojo had a wife. I really want to know more about her, if you think about it, this is all Gojo-Sensei’s fault.”    Nanami rubbed his temples, staring at the two of you for backup, realizing that you two were making out again.    Nanami sighed, 10 years later and you two were still the same.    

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #wife reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #jjk gojo #saturo gojou #gojou #jjk yuuji #yuuji itadori #jjk nobara #nobarakugisaki #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jujutsu kaisen nobara #nanami #jjk nanami #kento nanami

[bittermuire]

I wrote another gwynriel one-shot because I’m obsessed with them

This one is based off of @inejjg‘s GORGEOUS headcanon about gwyn and az stargazing in the training ring. I mixed the order around a bit but it’s generally the same? Also it’s long. I’m sorry

Was that… ?

Oh, Mother above. Yes. Yes, it was.

Gwyn couldn’t quite place that little flurry of emotion in her chest as she saw the shadowsinger’s silhouette approaching the training ring. Excitement? Nervousness? The last time they’d been alone here together, they’d both been distracted—the ribbon rippling between them had been a lifesaver.

But now? She swallowed, realizing there was nothing to stop their eyes from meeting, their hands from touching…

Don’t be ridiculous, that cold voice told her, the one she’d carved into her heart since the day she came to the House of Wind. You barely know him.

The necklace flashed in her head.

From a friend, Clotho had said.

Who? Gwyn asked.

Amusement brushed from the priestess. Her pen scratched quietly. The shadowsinger.

And here he was now.

Something was wrong, she noted, as she watched him. Usually he would have taken immediate attention to her presence, but he was somewhere else, though he moved with his typical, beautiful grace.

She sat up from her blanket. His head snapped to her, eyes wide as he took in her little nest on the ground.

“Hi,” she said.

A little smile curved his lips. “Hello.”

“I’m stargazing.”

His eyes went soft.

Ah, yes, Gwyn remembered. Nesta had told her about Azriel’s love for astronomy, the way he filled the sleepless nights with wonder and starlight.

“Would you like to keep me company?”

He gave a little laugh at that, maybe surprised at her bold offer. Somehow, she saw the different thoughts flitting across his face, sure he’d courteously refuse and go to his own bed. But, to her own surprise, he crossed the training ring in smooth strides and sat down next her, a respectful distance away.

Silence stretched between them. Languidly, he stretched out his legs and laid on his back.

In a way that Gwyn could only call adorable, he let out a little sigh of contentment, scarred hands lifting to rest behind his head. When he caught her staring down at him, he quirked a brow.

“You can’t very well stargaze like that,” he teased.

She smiled, trying to hide the redness in her cheeks, and laid down next to him. This was intimate, she thought. And he was... different, somehow.

They were closer now, she realized, laying beside each other. Her pinky was an inch from his.

•

All Azriel could think of at that moment was that Gwyn was very, very close.

He attempted to distract himself with the glorious cosmos stretched out above him, but the female next to him seemed to him just as glorious, and he struggled to pull his attention from her.

She seemed to have an easier time of it, pointing a finger up to the Gilt Maiden.

“There’s the Maiden,” she said cheerfully, then gasped and moved her finger to the left. “And the Mother’s Ladle! Oh, wonderful! I usually can never spot it!”

He shifted his head to see her, to see her glowing face, her eyes so full of light—that radiant collection of features.

But, strangely… not like Elain. Gwyn was full of light in a way he couldn’t understand. It warmed his chest.

His shadows thought the same.

Beautiful, they murmured, curling shyly to the warmth within the curves of her palms, the hook of her ears, the line where her shining copper hair met her freckled skin.

Indeed, Azriel thought to himself. Beautiful.

Even more so as he watched her watch his shadows sift into her hair, drift across her stomach, both girl and shadow studying each other so casually and fondly—not a hint of fear, not a needle of apprehension. Curiosity, instead. Happiness.

He cleared his throat, ready to draw the shadows back. Or at least try. They were infatuated with her. “Do you really like them?”

The words slipped out, more earnest, more eager, than he’d intended.

She turned to look at him as well, and he was shocked again by her closeness. That random throw of stars across the bridge of her nose, on her cheeks, sprinkled liberally across her forehead. The crashing waves in her ocean eyes. The stray bristles of her brows, mere shades darker than her silky hair.

“I love them,” she said, voice hushed. “They’re beautiful.”

Despite himself, Azriel wondered if he was beginning to glow, too.

•

Hours passed, and Gwyn thanked the Mother for the lack of ribbon rippling between them. It was odd, really. She’d never felt such a strange connection with someone. It was easy with him. Every word he said made her want to hear another. Silence had been her friend for so long; now, she’d gladly settle for nights like this.

All kinds of topics had come up. He’d told her about the little balcony he had off his room and the strange instrument he used to see the night sky. She’d told him about Merrill and her many theories, and they’d talked about that for a while—trading and throwing around ideas about the universe, if it was as small as they thought, or if it stretched beyond their maps; if it was the universe or a universe, and then all Gwyn could think was, I’m perfectly content in this one if you’re in it with me.

“Mother above, Gwyn,” she muttered to herself, and Azriel quickly turned to look at her. “Sorry,” she said, giggling a bit. “Just talking to myself.”

Then, in some magical act, the skies shifted again. Azriel pointed up. “There’s Jekob the Wanderer. And his staff.”

Gwyn squinted. “No, that’s Truwa the Fifth.”

“No, Truwa’s over there.”

“No, Jekob’s over there. Truwa’s next to the Crab. See?”

He shook his head and laughed—a blunt, dry sound. Gwyn was struck by the sweetness of it. “You’re so wrong,” he said, voice brimming with mirth.

She couldn’t help smiling. “Am not.”

“Gwyn! Do I need to go get my book?” He shifted to his side, a grin on his face.

Her breath caught.

Beautiful.

“No!” she exclaimed, laughing. “There’s no need, because I’m right!”

“Right,” he scoffed, still smiling that brilliant smile.

What do I do with you?

A shadow curled around her pinky. Another caressed her temple.

•

The shadowsinger didn’t remember when they fell asleep. But when his eyes cracked open, he was… warm. He never woke up warm, even when entangled with a lover.

With a start, he realized Gwyn was curled into his side, fingers of her right hand intertwined with his. Even in sleep she held his hand tight to her chest. He felt the soft beating of her heart, and he wondered, then, how he’d ever looked past her before.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, reaching up a hand, careful not to jostle her, and brushed back a strand of her hair from her sleep-softened face. He gently squeezed her hand, peering at that freckled face, full of stars—for so long, his only friends.

When he was just a boy, locked in that house, he used to pray to the Mother to send him a star.

She’d sent him hundreds.

Gwyn.

#i'm sorry it's so long #it just... kept going? #this is such a cute idea tho #gwynriel

[atalho-s]

Light Up The Dark

Part 3 | I am fused just in case I blow out

pairing: bartender!tom x famous!reader

warnings: smut +18 miniors dni, swear words?, drinking, mention of anxiety crisis, let me know if anything else!

words: 4.3 k

a/n: english it’s not my first language, so i’m sorry for any mistake! If you want to be tagged in the next chapters let me know!!

PART 3 if you want to read part 2 click here!

Y/n sat down with her coffee at a cafeteria table. She took a deep breath and opened her notebook, double-clicking the document and revealing the page she'd been trying to write for some time. It couldn't be happening again. It was already the third writer's block in a row and to say she was starting to get angry was an understatement.

It was becoming a constant problem and she didn't know what to do anymore. It was getting embarrassing how many times she had gone to her neighborhood coffee shop. Staying in her apartment alone was making her completely claustrophobic, which was ironic given her apartment was so big and spacious.

But what was making her so upset and with that lack of creativity? That's what she wanted to find out. Maybe it was the story, maybe it would be a sign that that story shouldn't be written.

She took a deep breath and rested her chin on her palm looking at the screen. She didn't want to give up on June, her character, so easy. She really want to finish this, had she already invested too much time in something that in the end would come to nothing? That didn't sound like her.

But if that were the only way, she would have no alternative, she would have to give up and maybe come back one day when her creativity shines again.

She felt her cell phone vibrate in her coat pocket and caught it looking that was Milla. She slid the screen and answered.

- Hi Mil... - she said a little discouraged.

- Hey Lovey! Why the sad voice? - Milla said and Y/n smirked.

- Just discouraged with the new book...

- Nothing yet? - Mila already knew about the extensive Y/n block’s creativity since she kept calling asking for tips on teas or candles that would bring inspiration (since Mil was an expert in these crazy things about spiritism and nature), which obviously didn't help.

- Nothing, actually I'm thinking about giving up this time...

- Hey Hey hey! No giving up, are you crazy? - Milla said and Y/n sighed. - You just need a little push, it will come back eventually.

- I don't know Mil... It seems that the inspiration went away for good.

- Since when did you lose your ideas? I remember that weeks ago you were all excited, you even wrote three wonderful chapters, maybe if you try to do the same thing you did in these weeks the ideas will come back... - Milla said and Y/n started to remember the weeks that passed. What had she done? Well, she had spent more at home as usual, a few days meeting with the director of the series based on her book, chatting a bit with Emma Brown, and the other day doing an interview for a famous magazine, but that was it. She hadn't done anything big...

Y/n thought some more. Emma Brown and her birthday party, after that day she had a flurry of ideas where she wouldn't stop writing, but then what happened to make everything suddenly stop? Well, there was an obvious incident... And by incident she meant: Tom. That waiter had really messed with her the two nights she had been with him. But she hadn't seen him since and she was super okay with it, it wasn't like she was thinking about him, his smell, his smile, the way he knew how to touch her... Ok, that was going too far.

But why since she saw him she started having her lack of ideas again? It wasn't possible. What if he was inspiring her in some way or another? Maybe the way he relaxed her and made her forget about everything made her creative.

- Y/n? Bestie? - Milla asked on the other end of the line. - Are you still there?

- Hi Mil! - Y/n said out of his thoughts. - Sorry, I went out of orbit for a few seconds.

- I noticed... What are you thinking about huh?

- Oh no big deal... Just... I have to prove a theory and if it works out I'll tell you.

- Theory? What theory? - Milla asked curiously.

- I have to go, but I'll call you later ok? - Y/n said and didn't wait for Milla to answer, hanging up the phone and hurriedly packing up her things.

She had to prove she wasn't going crazy. Maybe Tom really was her energy charge in some way, she had to prove if her creativity would come back. And if he was, she really wouldn't know what to do. She couldn't sleep with him every time her lack of ideas came up. But, she was desperate and despair brought drastic attitudes.

So she ran back to her apartment to change her clothes. To think that she had sworn to herself that she wouldn't go after him, was humiliating, but she didn't care at the moment. As soon she got home, she went straight to her closet, wanting to impress him, but at the same time she wanted him to think that she went there to get someone else, it would be less pathetic.

She spotted a white dress, one that she had never worn before, presumably because she didn't like to show too much of her body, but she decided to take a chance with it. She dressed, put on her high-heeled sandals and did her makeup (the basic one she knew how to do) and when it was almost 11pm she was heading towards the Seven Devils bar.

Arriving there, she saw the same security guard who had let her through, a friend of Tom's. She nodded to him and entered. The bar was a little more crowded, maybe because it was friday night. He felt butterflies in her stomach, what if someone recognized her? She doubted they would, but even though she wasn't doing anything wrong she hated being in the media. She took a deep breath and went deeper into the room. It was dark and the dance floor was open, crowded with people dancing and few people sitting at the table. Only the bar light was visible, where she immediately looked for someone with brown hair and a bar uniform, but she didn't saw him, just Sally, the other bartender. Maybe he has a day off?

She headed towards the bar to order a drink, leaning against the counter and looked around, no sign of him. Maybe she had gone there for nothing. Sally approached and Y/n smiled asking for a drink, she didn't want to ask about him because it would be too much and besides Sally didn't recognize her, or pretended not to, so it would be weird.

- Special night? - Y/n asked when she delivered her drink, indicating the number of people and why the dance floor was open.

- Yeah, we do it every friday, the bar ends up turning into a club. - Sally replied taking some glasses and turned to serve other customers.

She picked up her glass and headed out onto the dance floor. It wouldn't hurt for her to have a little fun. Weaving through the crowd, she started shyly dancing for a few long minutes alone, until a guy approached.

-Hey ...-he said smiling and stopped in front of her.

- Hey... - Y/n said suspiciously and looked around drinking her drink.

- I saw you're alone... Can I stay here? he asked and Y/n bit her lip thoughtfully. Well, Tom clearly wasn't there and what if his ideas didn't just depend on him? But of her hooking up with someone? Anyone...

- Of course! - she said smiling at last and he approached dancing with her while the lights flashed. He was handsome, had those piercing eyes that wouldn't stop watching her every move.

Another song started to play and Y/n started dancing more sensually. The boy came even closer placing his hand on her waist and she smiled, satisfied with her effect. Everything was going well until she glanced at the bar and found a pair of brown eyes staring at her.

Tom. So there he was, wearing his uniform, his hair pulled back as usual, he was gorgeous and with a shaker in one hand shaking furiously. He didn't take his eyes off hers which made her shiver.

He just looked away when he had to take care of the next customer, and Y/n looked at the guy in front of her, where she now had a hand on his shoulder. Who was she kidding? She wanted Tom... At least she would try to have him that night, because she was curious to test her theory with him.

- I'll be right back. - she said and the guy opened his arms disappointed as she walked away, taking the rest of her drink and heading towards the bar again.

She leaned against the counter and saw Tom saying goodbye to a customer looking at her from the corner of his eye. She approached her and grinned when he stopped in front of her.

- This is getting embarrassing darling... - he said wiping the counter with a towel.

- What are you talking about?- she asked raising an eyebrow.

- You coming here just to see me? Tsc tsc... pathetic - he said with a smirk and Y/n felt her stomach turn with anxiety as he looked up at her.

- And who said I came here for you? - She said trying to hide it.

- I don't know, maybe because you could have gone to any bar better than this one in the entire city, but you chose this one, strange isn't it? - He asked taking her glass and preparing another drink.

- Funny, I only came here because I liked the place last time... Besides I was even flirting with another guy seconds ago, so your theory doesn't make sense. - Y/n said ironically and did not take her eyes off his trying to be firm on her tone.

- Yeah, I know... But it's funny that you didn't take your eyes off me while dancing with him... - he said putting her glass, now full, back on the counter.

- I was just surprised to have seen you, since I had even forgotten that you worked here. - She said drinking a sip from her glass and he laughed ironically.

-Of course love ... Of course ...-he said tilting his head to the side and approached his face to hers leaning on the counter. Y/n stared at him a little lost in his scent coming in waves to her nose and she could now see his freckles up close, as well as the arrogant smile that never left his face.

- I bet you came here for another round, right? he said quietly, his breath hitting her face and she almost closed her eyes. -Getting dressed like that, dancing sensually while watching me...-he said biting his lip looking her face up and down and stopping at her lips. Y/n swallowed, ok he had an almost paranormal effect on her.

- I-I... - she stuttered and he smiled even more seeing her disconcerted. - I don't know what you're talking about. - Y/n said finally and walked away a little, wanting to get out of that situation. She wanted him, but she didn't want to give out so easily.

- Of course you don't know sweetheart, but I can remind you later. - He said, winking and then walking away, heading towards another customer who had arrived.

Y/n let out the air she didn't even know she was holding, tooking a big swig of her drink and set the glass on the counter heading back to the floor. Tom was very arrogant, but denying that she didn't like it was a lie.

She arrived on the floor and went back to dancing closer. The guy from before now was talking to another girl which made her a little sad, she wanted to have fun with Tom's face some more. She stayed there for a few minutes, until three people approached her, surrounding her.

- Hey... Aren't you the Y/n? - a girl said and Y/n wanted to hide for a moment.

- Erm... I am. - She said smiling.

- I saw you in an interview last week! I love your books! Take a picture with me? she asked taking her cell phone out of her pocket.

- Of course! - Y/n said and posed with the three people while they took pictures.

- Hey! You are Y/n aren't you? I saw you in Emma's birthday pictures! -a guy said right behind approaching too and some people around her start to look at her.

- It is true! I recognized her from somewhere! - another girl said also approaching and Y/n started to get a little scared. She didn't see the harm in taking pictures with some fans, but being buried by them was a nightmare.

- Take a picture with me? - another also said.

- Your books are terrible! - another one shouted laughing.

- I bet the next one will be even worse! 

- Who is this? Never heard of it!

- I bet it must be some actress wanting attention.

And when she saw she was surrounded by a crowd almost being suffocated, but more people kept surrounding her and filling her with questions about her book, or cursing her in some way, which started to make her sick and claustrophobic .

-Please, guys...-she started to speak, but her voice broke and was lost with the loud music and with the people talking loudly around her. For a moment she thought she was going to pass out. Until she felt someone putting a hand on her waist and guiding her out of the crowd hurriedly walking beside her.

The crowd started to follow them and Y/n just stared at her feet, still feeling her heart beat fast. The next thing she saw was this person pulling her to the side of the bar through a door and then closing it.

He looked around when the light was turned on and saw some boxes on the floor and shelves. She was in a warehouse and Tom was standing in front of her.

- You are okay?- he asked looking at her worriedly.

- I...- She closed her eyes for a few seconds and opened them again. - I'm fine, it was just a scare, thank you for saving me...

- It's ok darling... - he said approaching to check if she was really ok and Y/n felt dizzy, staggering a little and he held her by the waist preventing her from falling. - Whoa, I don't think you're okay, love.

- It's ok, it was just an anxiety attack with drinking... - she said putting her hand on her temples, feeling her vision rotate a little. - I just... I really want to leave.

- Okay, how about we walk slowly and I take you home? -He said still holding tight to her waist and she looked at him.

-O-ok...- she said nodding and they started walking slowly.

After passing through the warehouse, Tom opened another door that opened into the backyard of the bar, where he could see his car. He helped her in and sat down next to her.

- Tom? - Y/n asked when he started the car and starting to move.

- Huh? -he said turning his face towards her.

- Can you... Can you take me somewhere else? I don't want to go home... - she said feeling a little pathetic. But she didn't want to face her gigantic apartment right now, wanted to be with someone somewhere else who didn't remember what she'd just been through.

- Sure darling... - he said stopping at the red light. - Where you want to go?

- Could be your house? I mean, I don't want to take advantage or anything, I just... I need to calm down somewhere else... - She started to say hesitant.

- Hey, fine, no problem. -He said putting his hand in hers, that was on her lap, comforting her and she shook her head, seeing him to remove, putting back on the steering wheel. She wanted him to keep his hand there, but obviously she stay quiet, leaning her head against the window, trying to calm down.

After a few minutes they reached his building, where Tom parked and helped her to go out of the car. Y/n followed him to the front door and they took the elevator. She was still silent the whole time and he didn't want to say anything either, just glanced at her time to time, maybe checking her if she was okay and looking away afterwards.

They arrived at Tom's apartment and Y/n looked around. It was small but cozy. There was a living room with a small kitchen and a hallway leading to another door that appeared to be his bedroom.

- How about you stay in my room and I give you some clothes to make you more comfortable? -He said putting his hand on her back guiding her while she nodded.

They entered the room and Y/n sat on the edge of the bed. As Tom opened his closet, taking off his shoes and choosing a comfortable T-shirt and pants for her to wear. He approached her again putting the clothes beside her.

- Well, you can make yourself comfortable ok? I'll let you... - he start to said.

- Tom. - Y/n interrupted him. - Please stay here. - She said feeling her heart start beating fast and her breathing quicken. She thought back to the horrible comments and the crowd that had surrounded her. Maybe now pictures of her were all over the internet and it made her anxious again. She closed her eyes feeling tears wanting to flow. She opened them again and the tears finally spilled out, rolling down her cheeks.

- Hey, hey darling. It’s alright, I'm here. -he said getting down in front of her, putting a hand on her cheek wiping away some tears.

- Sorry, I just... That's ridiculous, sorry...

- Shh... - he said calming her and looking at her. - It's not ridiculous ok? You don't need to apologize for anything. -He said caressing her cheek.

- It's just... I keep thinking about those horrible comments and how my picture must be all over the place. - Y/n said wiping some tears that insisted on falling.

- Darling... You don't need to think about it, okay? Those people who said that are terrible, I don't want you to think about anything now how about that? - he said and Y/N looked at him.

- I wish I could turn off those thoughts. -she said sniffling a little, averting her eyes and Tom stroked her leg slowly comforting her. For a moment she felt her body shiver, but it was because Tom was touching her and not because of her crisis. He stopped pulling his hand away and Y/n looked at him. - Tom... Can you continue?

- What do you mean? - he asked confused looking into her eyes.

- Touching me... I mean, you were doing a good job distracting me. - She said smiling slightly and he smiled back.

- Sure…- he said getting down on his knees and taking her calf slowly and kissing her lightly, not taking his eyes off hers at any time. Y/n wanted to close her eyes, but at the same time wanted to look at him, so she decided to keep them open.

Tom took off his sandals slowly, and was kissing from her calf to her thigh, stroking lightly with his hand that held her, and she felt shivers down her spine. . He reached her inner thigh and took a small bite causing her to sigh and bite her lip in response. He lifted his head to look at her and smiled. Y/n not resisting, bent down kissing him with desire. He placed one of his hand on her face kissing her back while his other hand still rested on her thigh squeezing.

She kept kissing him until she felt she needed of air and they parted, out of breath. Tom touched his nose to hers lightly and Y/n closed his eyes feeling him.

- Tom... I want to feel you... - she said approaching her mouth again. - Make love with me? - she asked quietly and she could feel him smile against her mouth.

-Whatever you want sweetheart... - he said and stood up suddenly with hush, bringing her along  by her legs, making her gasp in surprise, putting her down on the bed and lying on top of her afterwards.

He went back to kiss her, exploring her mouth eagerly and she placed her hand on the back of her neck, pulling his hair. He paced his hands over her body and she hurriedly took his shirt off, running hers over his defined bare chest.

- I didn't tell you this before, but you look wonderful in that dress, teased me all night, but I confess I'd rather see you without... - He bit down lightly below her ear making her moan low, he raised the hem of her dress, stepping away and helping her get it off and throwing it aside.

Now he was kissing her collarbone, lowering the kisses to her breasts making her arch her back a little wanting to get even closer to his mouth. When she reliase he had removed her bra and smirked looking at her.

- I have to be honest...I missed that image. - he said and Y/n almost hid by the way he looked at her, it was like she was a sculpture, it was a look of admiration and desire. A look that made her forget the world.

He kissed her breasts and positioned himself between her legs, meanwhile taking off his pants, along with his boxers, while still paying attention to each of her nipples, sucking them making her moan low. He returned his kisses to her lips again kissing her more slowly this time, moving his hand to her panties and running his fingers slowly through the fabric, setting aside and feeling how pathetically wet she was for him. Y/n moaned against his lips again and he groaned pulling back a little.

-I love how you're always ready for me darling...-he said making his lips touch hers lightly and she could only moan in response as he made slow circles on her clit.

- Tom... - she said weakly and he smiled seeing how she was vulnerable for him. - Please, I need you inside me, now... - Y/n managed to said between moans, arching her waist against his hand.

- So demanding and desperate love ... - he said taking his hand of her making her protest with the lack of contact. - But I have to confess that you get even hotter that way. - He said stretching to get a condom in the drawer on the side of the bed and opened the package adjusting on his member right after. Y/n ran her hands on his arms, meanwhile, just admiring his body and how lucky she was. He looked back at her and smiled seeing that she was admired him with concentration. - Still with me darling?

She looked him in the eye again and nodded, kissing his neck then making him bite his lip. Tom took his cock closing his eyes and penetrated her slowly, so that she got used to his size. When he was fully inside her he turned to look at her closely and stroked her cheek lightly as if asking permission to move, which she readily agreed.

He started to move slowly, making her feel every piece of him by wich thrust he was doing, until he picked up a fast pace that made her moan with pleasure gripping his shoulders tightly and even scratchin him a little. He made her feel like she was flying and he penetrated her so deliciously it felt like a dream.

Tom took one of her legs and wrapped it around his waist, making him penetrate her even deeper, which made her almost combust. He was silent the entire time, as well as her, what could be heard were just the moans of the two that echoed through the room.

After what seemed like an eternity. Tom slowed his pace a little. Putting one of his hands on the side of Y/n's head, squeezing the sheet and the other on her leg, squeezing it willingly.

- Fuck Darling... I’m gonna come... - he said breathlessly lost in his pleasure.

- Tom... - Y/n could only said and he took his hand from her leg going to her clit again stimulating it with his fingers and increasing his pace again, until the two reached the orgasm together between moans and low breathless curses.

Tom placed a few kisses on Y/n's neck returning to his senses and Y/n closed her eyes just feeling his touch. He then got off her and lay beside her looking at the ceiling. Catching his breath. After cleaning themselves in silence, the two returned to bed lying side by side.

- You ok? he asked finally breaking the silence looking at her.

-More than ok...- Y/n said lying on his side towards him. -I'm just tired...-she said lazily starting to close her eyes and the last thing she felt before falling asleep was Tom kissing her forehead.

taglist: @usuck​ @petesrparker​

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #bartender!tom #bartender!tom x famous!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland series #tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #tom holland fanfiction

[sharkboygirlish]

Nightmares.

ONE-SHOT(Maybe)

Word Count: 1414

Disclaimer: One Piece and all it’s characters belong to Eiichiro Oda, I just like to write about them.

Warnings: None.

Rating: T

Author’s Notes: I was thinking about how luffy absolutely for sure has ptsd from his insane childhood & how he probably deals with nightmares from time to time bc of it. i like to hc that he goes to cuddle with various crew mates when he’s having a really hard night; and that he started doing it bc of the very first night he and zoro spent in the boat together so I wrote about it, lol. 

this is mostly from zoro’s pov & honestly now that I’m writing this post I might make this a series alternating between luffy’s pov and the rest of the straw hats when he comes to them for comfort bc I love writing cuddle fics. we’ll seeeeee.

Summary: Zoro’s not used to comforting people, but for his captain? He could learn to be. 

—————————————————————

Lost somewhere in a foggy dream land, Zoro woke when he was startled by what sounded like soft cries drifting into his left ear. ‘What the hell?’ 

Cracking one groggy eye open, the swordsman turned his head in Luffy’s direction to find him thrashing side to side with his arms thrown over his face like he was defending himself. 

Were they under attack? He sat up to get a better look but he didn’t see anyone else in their boat. ‘So Luffy… Was still asleep? Should he try to wake him up?’

“Oi, Luffy! Wake up, you’re just dreaming.” 

He must not have spoken loud enough because Luffy didn’t react. Instead, he started twisting even more violently to the point that the boat rocked with him. It sounded like he was mumbling the phrase, “I won’t tell you,” over and over again but Zoro hadn’t the faintest clue why.

“Luffy! Wake UP!” Zoro tried again, this time louder, and when that didn’t work he swore. ‘The hell else was he supposed to do?!’ He had to put a stop to this before Luffy capsized the both of them.

Without many other ideas, or options really, he decided to plant one of his knees on either side of Luffy’s thighs, trapping them. Then he reached down and grabbed one of the rubber boy’s wrists in each of his hands, pinning them to his chest and pressing his whole torso against the bottom of the boat.

“Snap out of it Luffy, you’re havin’ a nightmare!”  To his great relief, Luffy’s eyes finally fluttered open but his pupils were like pinpricks, his breathing erratic, head whipping around like he wasn’t sure where he was. 

When his eyes landed back on his first mate, Zoro noticed how his pupils dilated back to their normal size. “Zoro..?” He managed to slow his breathing as he looked up at him, slightly confused but considerably less scared. It was almost like recognizing Zoro’s face had been what calmed him down.

The pirate hunter heaved a quiet sigh, releasing Luffy’s wrists and sitting back on his heels a little, regarding the boy lying beneath him with something in his expression akin to sympathy. “Does that happen a lot?”

Luffy was quiet for a while, gaze sweeping off to the side like he was remembering something he didn’t want to. Stuck to his eyes were a layer of tears that made them sparkle like the stars above their heads. His voice was quiet when he finally did answer. “Sorta.”

That was troubling for more than one reason. Zoro furrowed his brows, concerned, arms moving to cross over his chest before he realized that he was still straddling the captain’s thighs. ‘Shit, fuck, whoops.’ 

Blood threatened to burn his cheeks as he quickly moved off to kneel next to him instead. This time he knotted his arms together because he was self-conscious.

Luffy didn’t seem to think anything of it as he sat up and hugged his shins to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. He looked so… Tired, and small. 

A stark contrast from the fearless captain that had leapt in front of a flurry of bullets to save him from execution without thinking once. It hurt his heart to see Luffy like this. ‘But what could he possibly do to help?’

“Is there… Anything that’ll make them stop?”

“Well…” Luffy knit his brows together as he thought for a moment, looking in Zoro’s direction. “It never happens when I sleep with someone.”

Zoro stared back at him with slightly narrowed eyes for several seconds.

‘He couldn’t possibly be talking about sex, right? There was no way. Did -- Luffy even know what sex was? Never mind - he must have meant literally sleeping next to somebody else.’

“What, so like… Cuddling?”

“I guess, yeah.”

He was blinking so innocently over at Zoro that the swordsman felt his heart wrench like he’d been stabbed. “…Why cuddling?”

“Dunno. Just makes me feel more safe.”

There was no reason that he couldn’t do that for his captain. None that weren’t rooted in machismo ideals about when/how it was appropriate to comfort or be affectionate with other men, at least. 

“I…” He began and then hesitated, glancing anywhere but directly at Luffy. ‘Why was his pulse spiking like this? What the hell was he so nervous about? Knock it off, idiot.’

Zoro bit the inside of his cheek to punish himself for being so out of control of his own body. Hard as he tried he just couldn’t keep his face from turning red as he spoke. “I’ll sleep with you, Luffy. If it’ll make you feel better.”

If he noticed him blushing his captain didn’t comment, but he did lift his head into a slight tilt. “Are you sure? You don’t have to, you know.”

“Of course I know that, dumbass,” Zoro dragged a hand through his hair, his face burning even hotter than he thought it could. He started to chastise himself for being so stupid and embarrassing but then Luffy smiled at him. 

Not the wide grin he tended to give out during the day, though. This one was smaller, less in his mouth and more in his eyes. Zoro calmed almost instantly, the tension leaving his shoulders and untying his knotted stomach. ‘Why did Luffy’s smile make him feel so light and sunny every single time?’

“Okay,” he seemed relieved, like the offer had been exactly what he needed, “Thanks Zoro.”

Zoro heaved a heavy sigh when he was sure that most of the blood had drained from his cheeks, looking back at his captain with feigned irritation. “Shut your mouth.”

Luffy giggled, beaming with both eyes scrunched up as Zoro stretched out beside him, placing both hands behind his head. Then he moved to join his first mate, draping an arm across his torso and tangling one of his legs with his. His head settled onto Zoro’s chest, cheek pressed right over the space where his heart pounded quicker than its owner would like to admit.

“Night Zoro.” Luffy mumbled fondly, eyelids slipping closed as he nuzzled his forehead against one of Zoro’s collarbones.

‘Damnit. He was too goddamn cute for his own good.’ Zoro bit the inside of his cheek again, gazing silently up at the dark clouds shifting above his head and wondering why on earth he’d just referred to Luffy as cute. That wasn’t a word men were supposed to use to describe each other...

But for fuck’s sake, he was cute. He was fucking adorable. He was like a little kid that needed Zoro to protect him -- and he could do that. He would do that. He would do anything if it meant keeping Luffy safe. 

“Yeah,” Zoro murmured after a while, folding one of his arms securely around Luffy’s waist and pulling him in till the top of his head was nestled under his chin, “Night, captain.”

Luffy hummed back softly. A few minutes later he was snoring peacefully while the swordsman’s eyes remained trained on the rapidly thinning clouds. 

Somehow in the span of just a day this.. kid had become the most important person in his life and Zoro refused to let death take him like it had taken Kuina. He hadn’t been there to catch her when she fell -- but he would be there for his captain. He vowed to himself and the stars winking down at him that he would always protect Luffy. 

If he fell Zoro would catch him. If he was thrown into the sea, Zoro would dive after him without even thinking once. If he was captured Zoro would break him free or he would die trying.

He felt Luffy shifting against his side and at first Zoro thought he might be having another nightmare -- but then he just snuggled closer and buried his face in his neck. ‘So fucking precious.’  A small smile pulled at his mouth that he didn’t fight off.

Holding Luffy felt nice. No, it felt really nice. It gave him a sense of purpose and made him feel needed, wanted. The only other time he felt something remotely similar to this was when he got his hands on expensive sake -- but this feeling was so much better. Maybe... It was okay to relish in it for a while.

If only under the cover of night where it was just him, his captain, and the nearly endless sea.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #roronoa zoro #monkey d. luffy #hurt/comfort #zolu #platonic love #zoro #luffy

[missdawnandherdusk]

Little Things

Draco X Reader

Request: @deanwswinchester79 But I thought of an idea that maybe the readers parents never write to her while she’s at Hogwarts, Draco notices and eventually gets her a simple gift so she doesn’t feel so lonely. She doesn’t react quite so well but over time it started to become a little tradition of theirs because they’ve come to like each other.

A/n: Thank you for such a wonderful request!! Sorry this took so long, I had most of it written with no idea how to end it, but I figured that out! think I’m gonna make the reader a Slytherin just for the proximity and convenience. Let me know what y’all think as always~ (Also it seems that my posts haven’t been circulating in the explore page... so more than ever, please if y’all love my work reblog it. Tumblr sucks and I’d hate to have to leave...)

Being pure bloods and Slytherin, it’s not uncommon that you and Draco are near each other a lot, even before Hogwarts.

Unlike his own parents who would give him anything at the mere mention, your parents never batted an eyelash at you

They spent their wealth on themselves and expected you to sit still and look pretty. The perfect compliant child.

Sure you had everything you needed, and asked for... but you had to bluntly ask for it... there was never anything thoughtful or decent

So, you never get letters from your parents while you’re at Hogwarts

Or gifts, or packages... you write letters and send them off, but never get a response. You don’t even know if your parents get them.

So... maybe it’s a few years before Draco notices and cares.

It’s only because he happened to be sitting next to you one morning as mail came in, a flurry of owls, letters and parcels. And you don’t even bother to look up. Your eyes are trained on your breakfast, your face stoic

“Here,” Draco shoves a covered tin of treacle tarts your way. “My parents sent me these. I don’t even like them,” he scoffs, trying to play off what he’s doing.

You eye him, in disbelief and stand abruptly. “Be grateful they send you things,” you snarl and storm out of the Hall, spending the rest of the day in your room, writing a letter you never send.

Maybe after writing the letter you never send about how you feel makes you realize you were a bit rude to Draco

So you apologize when you see him next.

It’s later that night when you two are the only third years left in the Common Room. Maybe you were a bit of a coward and waited until he was alone

He reaches into his bag and offers you the same tin. “I meant it. I really don’t like sweets,”

You can’t help but laugh as you accept his small gift.

Sitting beside him on the couch, you stare at the tin in your hands.

“You can eat them,” he teased. “They’re not poisoned.” He says it so earnestly, you laugh again.

You mumble another thanks before you stand abruptly and head back to your room, leaving Draco a bit confused. He shrugs and goes back to his potions homework.

“Mother, Draco gave me some treacle tarts today. They’re from his parents. I think he noticed that you never write back. Of course it’s been three years. But at least someone noticed. If that’s what this was...”

It’s a few days later during breakfast that you get a letter. You’re shocked because it’s the first time it’s ever happened and your owl is fluttering happily on your shoulder.

It’s not signed, and you have no idea who it’s from, but it holds kind words and encouragement. It’s such delicate and immaculate script, you’ve got no idea where to start looking for the author.

So maybe you don’t. But you keep the letter and write a response. Again, it’s never sent, but it makes you smile and not feel depressed afterwards. Which is new.

Draco would never forget the innocent smile on your face as you opened the letter he had sent anonymously. You didn’t seem to notice his stare, so entraputed in the bit of parchment.

He sent you a letter maybe a few times a months. It was the most mundane things. How he liked the weather. His worries for the next exam. How you handled yourself well in Transfiguration.

He never knew you reponded to each one. And kept those letters in a fabric box under your bed. Or how every night when you were feeling depressed you’d take them out and read them. And that they made you feel better.

You knew your secret author went to school with you, and was in close proximity but that was about all you knew. Sometimes you wondered who it was writing to you. Sometimes you were just content with having a letter to hold.

“I don’t really know who you are, but I’d like to know I think. At least to thank you for making me happy, even for a short while with your letters,”

You leave that letter on your desk, not thinking to tuck it back into its box. Which is your first mistake

Your owl, seeing the letter on your desk, delivers it, knowing who your secret author is.

Draco grips the letter so tightly that the paper almost tears. Your owl preens herself on his sill. “You know,” he accuses. “Did you tell her?” Like he expects a response from the bird.

It’s Christmas, and your mystery writer sends you a parcel this time with a note: “haven’t you figured it out?” In the parcel is a tin of treacle tarts.

You freeze before your gaze turns to Draco, who’s watching you intently.

You run through a lot of emotions. Anger, confusion, gratitude, hesitation, joy... it’s all so overwhelming that tears sting your eyes and you practically run from the Great Hall, leaning against a random hallway wall and start to cry at the absolute ridiculousness of it all

Draco Malfoy was sending you letters

Really sweet letters that were thoughtful and kind and honest and nothing like you’d ever seen from him before

The there was the tin of sweets sitting in your lap. Looking at them made you cry all over again

Draco, on the other hand is very confused and rushes after you against his better judgment.

“Look I’m sorry if—” he starts but you cut him off by laughing.

“Merlin, don’t apologize,” you sniffle, standing. “Thank you,” you throw your arms around him, and pull him close, showing your gratitude. He eventually figures out that it’s a hug and hugs you back.

“You really don’t mind?” He asked, hesitant. “Because I... I know it’s stupid. But you never get anything and I know what it like to be ignored by your parents and I just thought—”

“Draco,” you call his attention, finding it sweet that he rambles when he’s nervous. “I don’t mind in the slightest. And it’s not stupid. It’s the kindest thing anyone has done for me,”

Draco fidgets and blushes slightly, looking at the ground.

“I will admit, I’m surprised it’s you,” you mused softly, catching Dracos attention and the hurt on his face. “Only because you’re... I don’t know.” You smile and shrug. “I feel like no one knows that—this part of you,”

“And what part of me is that?” He scoffs, trying to play it off.

“The sweet caring one,” you smile. “Who doesn’t mind sharing his sweets with a girl even though she knows he’s the first to eat dessert every meal,” you raise an eyebrow at him.

Draco goes a deeper shade of red because you’ve caught him in his lie. He starts to apologize again, but you stop him

Later that night you look at all of the letters he wrote you and that you wrote back. And the night before Christmas when everyone else was asleep, you spent the entire night working the letters into a book with magic

You give it to Draco Christmas morning, and though it’s lost in the pile of gifts from his parents, you’re happy (even if your parents didn’t bother to send you anything. You had a few gifts from your friends and you were okay with that)

Draco doesn’t pay much mind to the book until later that night, when he’s alone and can go through it in private. He’s surprised to see that you answered every letter you’ve written him. And he’s sort of in awe. He never knew that they meant that much to you

He thinks of you and your smile and how you’ve poured your heart out into these letters the same way he has and he never thought anyone would open up to him like that

Slytherins had a reputation to uphold—you both knew that, so the fact that both of you had this little secret made things a bit better

You see each other the next day and he thanks you for the gift and it’s a bit awkward, but in a nice way

Draco still sends you letters but now he signs them and they get a bit ridiculous that they make you laugh

“Did you see how Snape tripped over his robes today?” “You’ll never guess what Blaise did today...” “Greg actually asked me if the sky was blue because it’s not blue at night,”

They’re so endearing and making you giggle to yourself. You always catch Draco’s eye from across the hall and he raises an eyebrow at you, daring you to say something

Your friends of course want to know who’s making you laugh with their letters and you try so hard to not let your secret slip because you don’t think Draco would want anyone to know

And you’re afraid if others do know, he’ll stop writing to you. Letting his pride and ego get the better of him.

Draco wonders if you’re embarrassed to be talking to him so he never reveals your secret either but your both a bit frustrated at the other because of this dance you’re going through

He still writes to you over the summer and they’re more diary entries than they are letters but you still love them and respond when you can your parents might get suspicious and you don’t want to lose your penpal

You totally sneak into his families box during the Quidditch World Cup and your parents didn’t notice because they never do and you have the best time with Draco, both rooting for different teams

“You just like them because of Krum,” Draco accuses.

“Do not!” You argue back. “And besides he’s a great player anyway!”

Draco grumbles “I could do better,” and you have to laugh at him and he smiles at you

He grabs your hand and you both run as the Dark Mark is sent out over the match and Draco pulls you out of the chaos to where it was safe and you wait out the attack. He holds you protectively as you shake with fear against your will

Neither of you mention it. But at night you remember the feel of his arms and he remembers your warmth as you both curl around pillows wishing it was the other

Fourth year means the Durmstang students are rooming with the Slytherins and you get to share some of your classes with Krum and you might just explode with awe

Draco is jealous and hell hath no fury

Now Draco starts to send you ridiculous little gifts and notes almost weekly

Your friends (and most of the school) are now interested in this secret admirer of yours and you huff and you’re more annoyed at Draco than anything because he was being well, ridiculous

You grab Draco one day and confront him because he just sent you a bouquet of sunflowers

“What the hell?” You demand. “You said you liked sunflowers in Herbology,” Draco shrugged. You growl and storm away.

Now he’s sending you notes in class when you’re with Victor who doesn’t even sit next to you

At that point the secret is out on who your secret admirer is and now Victor won’t even talk to you because of Draco’s behavior.

You’re livid to say the least.

You stop talking to Draco altogether and become indifferent. You almost tell him to stop sending you things because you don’t want them, but you don’t.

It’s not that you don’t want the gifts and the kind gestures you just know it’s coming from the wrong place and it doesn’t sit right with you.

“What is wrong with you?” Draco demands one day.

“Wrong with me!?” You snap back. “What is wrong with you!? Seriously Draco! I’m not some shiny toy you can show off!! I’m not something you can claim either! So stop trying!”

“Who said that I was—”

You give him a sharp dangerous look and he shuts up.

You storm away again, tears in your eyes because it’s not how you wanted things to go.

It felt like you were walking away from your best friend and you knew you couldn’t fix it. And maybe that’s what it was like.

You almost run into Krum and fall down, but he catches you. Concern grows when he sees you crying. His concern for you just makes you cry more as your run back to your dorm room, not caring about the whispers around you as you lock your door and sob.

There’s a knock on your door and you have a good idea of who it is, but you don’t really want to talk to him right now

And Draco knows that. Sure, it took you to confront him about what he was doing, but you were right, you weren’t some toy to fight over

He sat against the other side of the door, mimicking your curled up position

“...I’m sorry,” You hear through the door. “You’re right. I... you’re not... I’m sorry...” 

When you finally have the courage to open the door, he’s gone

You close the door again and flop on your bed, screaming into a pillow

You may or may not fall asleep there... 

in the morning there’s a letter sitting on your window sill

Knowing who it’s from, you curl up in your covers with the letter and open it

Draco had spent about two hours thinking of how to make things right again, to prove how sorry he was... and so he poured out his entire heart to you in a letter

it was messy, scratched out, sappy, and heart felt, and apologetic and vulnerable and a beautiful mess that you couldn’t help but read again, and again, and again until you let a few tears slip out

You quickly get dressed for the day and rush into the Great Hall, seeing Draco sulking at the breakfast table, until he sees you, then his eyes go wide with panic and fear

It takes everything in you to remain composed and not run down the line of tables, but you manage

He stands to meet you and you smile, grabbing his robe and pulling him close, pressing your lips to his

“But... I... and you...” Draco fumbles, pulling away. 

“I might not want to be owned,” You grin, pulling out his letter, “But I’ll belong to this Draco any day,” 

“Deal,” He grins, and cups your face, kissing you again

.

masterlist

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more like this:

muggleborn!slytherin

patronus cliche

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#Draco #draco x reader #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco x #draco x slytherin!reader #draco x slytherin #Draco Malfoy Headcanon #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x #Draco Malfoy x OC #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #Harry Potter #harry potter blog #harry potter fanart #Harry Potter rewrite #harry potter request #draco malfoy reader insert #draco malfoy redemption #draco malfoy request #draco redemption #redeem slytherin #redeem draco malfoy #slytherin #slytherin x slytherin #ravenclaw #Gryffindor

[tomtenadia]

Winter Bliss

This is a very old Rowaelin Oneshot that I wrote last year but never published here. So, while you all wait for chapter 3 of A Little Braver i give you my one shot and a lot of fluff. 

-------

Set sometime in the future after KoA. Aelin is working and Rowan decides to have some fun in the snow with their daughter. Loads of fluff.

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Their daughter is called Aisling which in Gaelic means dream or vision. First because I still think about the dream Rowan had of Aelin and their 5 kids. Also, in my head the Old Language is basically Gaelic.

-------

It had snowed heavily in Terrasen for the past few days. Rowan moved to the window and stared at the white countryside in front of him. The snow was so thick that it muffled the sounds of the world and a sense of peace swept over him. He opened the big window of his and Aelin’s royal chamber and took a deep breath, inhaling deeply the crisp scent of the air. He wished Aelin hadn’t been busy with crown business that afternoon. It was the perfect day for a walk in the woods, hand in hand, to enjoy a moment of peace just the two of them. Between the kingdom to run and their two years old daughter, they had very little time for themselves and he wished he could whisk her away just for a few hours.

He was deep in thought when he heard some light footsteps behind him. He turned and saw their daughter walking toward him with her stuffed toy in her hands. “Dada!” She cried, walking toward him, arms extended. Rowan ran to the girl and picked her up, hugging her tightly at his chest. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek and she giggled. “What is it, my love?” His daughter leaned forward and with her hand pointed at the window and at the snow. “You like the snow?” Aisling’s green eyes lit up in joy “snow” she said pointing outside. At witnessing his daughter’s joy, Rowan had a sudden crazy idea. With her still in his arms he rushed out his chambers and went to the nursery. He put his daughter on the bed and went to the chest of drawers as if on a mission. “You and I are going on an adventure.” He confessed, turning his head to look at the little girl who was his exact copy “but we are not telling mum.” He knew Aelin was going to be busy for a few more hours so he had plenty of time to enjoy the snow with his daughter in all secrecy and come back in time before Aelin discovered anything. Aisling giggled, “snow” she repeated and clapped her hands feeling her father’s excitement at their upcoming adventure in the woods. Rowan went back to her with a selection of clothes to wrap up his daughter nicely. Aelin would have his head on a silver plate if he got their daughter sick. Once Aisling was bundled up in a cosy thick layer of clothes, with a wooly hat a scarf and some gloves he decided they were ready. They stopped quickly to his bedroom so he could grab his cloak and a scarf and they were ready to go. He sneakily opened the door and checked that the corridor was free of guards. He knew they were his wife little minions and there would be no hiding from her this little escape if they spotted him. Aisling hugged her father tightly around his neck and leaned her head on his shoulder while he was walking as silently as possible through the castle. “We are almost out.” He whispered. He crossed the last corridor before reaching the main hall. Once he made sure his path was clear he dashed for the door and sneaked out. Once out in the open he took a deep breath and kissed his daughter on her head. She smelled of jasmine, like her mother and he wished she was there as well. Slowly he started walking and shifted the little girl on his shoulders. She put her tiny hands on his silver hair and babbled some nonsense and Rowan laughed at that sound. Once they were deeper in the woods he began singing a song to her in the Old Language and Aisling kept babbling gibberish as if she was singing along with him and Rowan’s heart almost melted with happiness. His two girls were the most precious thing in his world. The day Aisling came to the world he had held them both in the circle of his arms and cried of happiness. He finally had that family he had been dreaming about. And after all the pain he and Aelin had to go through to get to that moment, he felt like the luckiest male alive. He had all he needed. He reached a clearing and stopped, removing his daughter from his shoulders. He sat her down on the snow and Aisling started crawling and playing with the with icy substance on the ground. “Snow” she turned to Rowan smiling happily. Then a flurry of snow lifted from the ground creating a small vortex and Rowan laughed. Aelin and him had discovered quite recently that Aisling had affinity to wind like her father and on a few occasions her power had erupted uncontrolled. Aisling clapped her hands excited at the small flurry of snow and her father added a bit of his magic to make it a bit bigger and gently enveloped her. Then he stopped and the snow fell on his daughter, who was now covered with a light dust of snow. “That was fun, eh?” “Fun!” She repeated and tried to stand on her two feet. She moved a few steps and grabbed some snow and threw it at her dad, losing then her balance and falling with a thump on her backside. Rowan all of a sudden had an idea “Shall we build a snowman?” He asked but did not wait for Aisling to answer. Always keeping an eye on his daughter, who was now using her power to play with the snow in front of her, he started gathering snow to create the two big balls that would have made up the snowman’s body. “Big man!” shouted Aisling while staring at her dad at work. Once the body was completed he began thinking on how to decorated the snowman. He grabbed his daughter in his arms “mama!” She yelled happily. Rowan laughed “Oh yes, she could be mum.” He grabbed a stick and placed it as a mouth, then removed his scarf and tied around the neck of the snow-woman. Once his work was complete with eyes and sticky hands he took a step back. “What do you think, my love? Does it look like mum?” “I know I am pregnant, but I think you made me a bit too fat.” A feminine voice that he would recognise everywhere reached him and he froze. Fuck. He thought. How did she find out? He turned. Aisling leaned forward toward her mother “mama” she called happily. Aelin took her daughter in her arms and turned to her husband who was now frozen in place. “You thought you were being sneaky?” “I had the perfect plan.” He finally took a step toward her and placed a kiss on her cheek reddened by the cold. Aelin chuckled “You failed miserably, buzzard.” She snuggled close to his chest “you forgot to check that there was no staff about. Emrys was coming out of the kitchen when he spotted you.” Rowan growled happily and nibbled at her ear “I missed you.” He muttered as a sort of apology. “I am sure my snow version would have been more than happy to please you.” Rowan was about to add a snarky remark when Aisling started to get agitated to get off from her mother’s arms. Aelin placed the little girl on the snow and she ran happily toward the snow-woman. Rowan laughed and moved behind Aelin and with his arms he circled her waist and placed his hands on her swollen belly “I love all the three of you. Madly.” “You forgot the boobs.” Was Aelin’s comment, not allowing him to have a cheesy moment. She freed herself from his embrace and joined their daughter. Clumsily she tried to bend down and grab some snow but her belly was in the way. “Does your majesty require the help of her dutiful husband?” He joked, while walking toward her with a big grin painted on his face. “Yes, my dearest husband, it’s good to know you can be of some use.” And gave him a warm smile and blew him a kiss. Rowan grabbed some snow and passed it to her. Aelin moulded it in her hands and then pressed it on the ball of snow and attached the fake boobs. “Now it looks like me.” “You have a high opinion of your bosom’s size.” He teased her shamelessly. In response she glared at him, then grabbed one of the snow boobs and threw it at him, then grabbed the other and threw it as well until his hair was even whiter. Aisling laughed and created a bigger flurry of snow around her dad. Rowan grabbed the little girl in his arms and started spinning on his feet until he collapsed in the snow with his daughter on his chest. “Wait for me.” Shouted Aelin, while trying to sit on the snow. Rowan offered her a hand and slowly she made her way down. She pulled the hood of her cloak on top of her head and lay down beside her husband and daughter. A strong arm went behind her back and pulled her closer. She placed a hand on her daughter’s back and then looked in her husband’s green eyes. “Kiss me.” He took his time, and when she began to pout he finally leaned forward and gave her a chaste kiss on her lips. “You are bad at making snowmen.” “I already excel in almost everything I do,” he chuckled “it’s normal that I might have some flaws in other endeavours.” Her smile turned wanton and he noticed the glint of lust in her eyes. “Not here and not with our daughter.” He added, knowing exactly where her mind had wondered off to. “Then take me home, buzzard and show me some of this amazing skills you have.” He stood with a fluid motion and helped her stand as well. “At your service, my Fireheart.”a smirk painted on his face and desire in his eyes. Aelin took Aisling for his arms and started walking back to the castle. Rowan put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him. He looked at his wife and daughter and smiled. A deep sense of happiness settled in his soul.

And in that instant it started to snow again…

#rowaelin #rowaelinkids #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galythinius #domestic fluff #Throne of Glass series

[gothamsglam]

Can I have Your Name? (a SamBucky ficlet)

for @samshield hope you enjoy 😘

(also on ao3 under @/the_fifth_marauder101)

---

“Thanks, can I have your name?” asked Bucky with a charming smile on his face, pulling out a sharpie. However, instead of writing on an empty class as the poor customer thought, he scribbled down “Tony” on one of those ‘Hello, my name is…’ stickers.

“That’s a wonderful name by the way,” Bucky compliments, because fck you Steve, he can be polite. 

He fcking told Steve going into customer service was a great idea. Idiot wanted to continue doing door to door shit, or, even worse, mope around forests for wandering travelers. He told him it wasn’t the 1400s anymore, and to grow up. Damn the supernatural council and their ‘hunt in pairs’ rule, he will go rouge and leave Stevie, he will do it. 

“I’m this close,” Bucky had hissed, holding his fingers in the air so Stevie could see, 

“Your fingers are touching,” Steve deadpanned. 

“Exactly.”

The man doesn’t look up from his flurry of typing, “Thank you, it’s a family name.”

“Sure,” Bucky replies quietly “Alright, your order will be right out,” Bucky grinned, replacing his name tag with the new one without looking away from the brown-haired customer. The second the tag sticks to his shirt, he feels a refreshing rush of energy. Kind of like what he imagines those ‘caffeine/sugar rush’ those damn teens keep harping about. 

“Thank y—” The customer—Tony—looks up from his phone to flash him a grin, only to have it fall from his face when he sees the name tag. 

This was the fun part. Bucky didn’t break eye contact, maintaining it with the same smile, only now he could tell it felt eerie to the human. Like something wasn’t right. 

The man’s brown eyes flitted up and down between Bucky’s face and the name tag, before he surged forward, “What di—”

“Have a good day,” Bucky bit out, still keeping the smile and cheery customer service tone. His eyes were blank, he made sure of it. Honestly, this whole song and dance was unnecessary. Stevie usually just wrote the name tags, and then stuck them on as he was making the drinks. Their shop was typically slow enough that there wouldn’t be people behind to question why the tender had a new name. But Bucky loved to fck with humans. What the hell else was he supposed to do? He’s been alive for 70 generations, let him have his fun. 

However, today was a bit different. Another two walked into the shop, Bucky didn’t see it as much as he felt it. Bucky kept his back turned, hollering “Welcome to Stars and Stripes, I’ll be with you in just a moment,” over his shoulder as he made the three drinks. What asshole ordered three drinks?

Bucky’s question was answered when he saw the two men walk over to Tony’s table. One of them kissed Tony on the cheek and the other just faux-gagged before giving Tony a hug as well. Bucky called out the order, eyes tracking the way Tony mumbled something to the two men and both reacted oddly, as they probably should. Bucky would expect no less. 

Apparently, he jinxed himself, because the man who hugged Tony came to pick up the drinks. 

“Nice name,” said the man.

“Thanks,” Bucky flashed his uncanny valley smile and offered nothing else. The man winked and then walked back to the table. 

Bucky did not look at his ass, he didn’t. 

---

The next day, the man comes in. Not Tony, but other guy. The cute one. 

“Hi my name’s Jacob, how may I help you today?” Bucky asks politely. 

The man, to his credit, didn’t bat an eyelash, “Hi I’ll have three—” And he rattled off the same order that Tony had. Bucky resisted the urge to frown, maybe it was just a two-time thing? This group has only come into their shop once before, what are the odds of it happening again, for a third time?

“Perfect,” Bucky slid the receipt across the counter, “Can I have your name?” Bucky asked, as he reached for a pen. 

“Nope,” the man replied. 

Bucky froze in his moments, “What?”

The man shrugged, face showing nothing but politeness, “I’m the only person in this store, you’ll be able to find me.”

Bucky was stunned as he watched him walk back to the spot the trio was in the other day. As he sat down, the man gave a nod of acknowledgment to Bucky, who was still staring. 

His brown—almost hazelnut with the light of the sun—eyes stared into Bucky’s own, and in them all he saw was mischief. 

Fck.

---

For the next two days, Bucky kept a—subtle, he wasn’t obsessed or anything—watch out for Tony or The Man. And for those two days, he didn’t see hide or hair of them. Bucky figured they must have been college students from nearby campuses, wandering in when Starbucks was too full, which happens often enough. Then on the third day, he returned. 

“Hey, Jacob” greeted The Man, his smile so bright—so bright that Nat would have burned like she does under the sun and threaten to bite the man in the jugular. Bucky, who was too gobsmacked to even deliver his customer service opening, stared at him. 

“Not Jacob,” Bucky said, his voice strangled. 

The Man chuckled, his eyes sparkling with the same look from the first day he ordered, “Ok ‘Not Jacob’, may I have—” And repeated the same order from the last two times. 

“Um, right, uh” Bucky stammered, face growing hot as The Man raised an eyebrow at him smugly, “Can I have your name?”

“Put Redwing,” The Man said, shrugging. The corner of his lips pulled upwards into a happy smirk—how can a person have a fcking happy smirk?—, not that Bucky was only looking at his lips or anything. 

“Redwing?” Bucky asked, stupidly. Because why ask, idiot, why ask for clarification? He read somewhere that the psyche is powerful enough to make the body do things, like fake pregnancies. Whether that’s something only reserved to humans is up for debate, but maybe, if Bucky doesn’t ask and lives in blissful ignorance, he can feed off of a fake name. But no, because he’s a bloody fool, he asked. 

“It’s my pet’s name,” The Man answered, then looked tilted his head, giving a sheepish smile, “Or at least, that’s what I want to name a pet, I don’t have one.”

“Right,” Said Bucky, suddenly feeling empty in ways that have nothing to do with hunger, “Your order will be right out.”

Their conversation was longer than normal, so when the man went to sit down, the couple came in moments afterward. All three sat in the same place as before. 

‘Oh no,’ Bucky thought in dawning horror, ‘Regulars.’ 

---

“Falcon,” grins The Man, now foregoing any attempts to be subtle and simply being a little shit.

Bucky looked at him, face void of any amusement. At this point, he’s shucked the polite customer service voice and snarked back and forth with the regular like there’s no tomorrow—only in this situation, there is a tomorrow, there always is tomorrow.

Their staring contest probably goes on for a bit too long, judging by the way Tony and his boyfriend—Bucky can feel comfortable calling the two a couple, based on how disgustingly affectionate the two get in the cafe—walk in. 

The Man flashed a smile and turned away to greet the couple. An audible ‘Rhodey!’ reached Bucky’s ears. Now, finally, he has a name for one of the dark-skinned men, the one who kissed Tony’s cheek and was currently walking in with said Tony, arm around his shoulders. Only Bucky doesn’t feel that familiar warmth pool in his gut, refreshing his energy levels. 

‘Oh,’ Bucky thinks, and watches as the man—his regular—laughs with his friends but also how his eyes flit back to peek at Bucky as names are spoken. ‘oh, loopholes.’

Bucky is so screwed. 

---

The names his regular gives become increasingly goofy, and Steve teases him about how flirty they get—Bucky absolutely didn’t have a favorite, and it absolutely wasn’t Angel. But Bucky only believed Stevie when he got a number instead of a random moniker. 

“What?” Bucky short-circuited. 

The man just sighed, “Come on, I gave you my number, work with me here.”

“You finally did it, huh, Sam?” Tony called out from where he was typing away on his computer, which rested on Rhodey’s legs. Rhodey, who was sprawled out in one of their chairs, nudged Tony with his foot, “Shush, let them have this.”

‘Sam,’ Bucky thinks,  and all he can come up with in his blue screened mind is, ‘Perfect’.

In his phone, the name Sam’s contact is under is ‘Angel’.

Steve heckles. 

---

“How did you know, Angel?”

Sam looks at Bucky, and Bucky’s struck into silence, The whole world falls around them in muted sounds and lights fade into balls of blurry color, because as they lock gazes all Bucky can notice is Sam’s eyes. Sam’s eyes—his wonderful, soul-deep eyes that shine with mischief and laughter, that glow so bright and rival the heavens when the sunlight reflects off it just so—are sad. 

“My friend,” Sam says quietly, “Riley. He was one of yours.”

Bucky nods, and reaches out with his metal hand—an injury from decades ago and a gift from a shapeshifter who hissed that his debt was repaired before slithering off into the night—pulling Sam closer to him. They watch the sun go down from the top of the roof, the stars revealed one by one, twinkling against the darkness of the dusk. 

---

(One day, Bucky will ask for Sam’s name again, specifically his last name. Only then, will Sam reply honestly.)

---

AN: This is a more bastardized version of faeries/fae, I just made up my own creature for what Bucky and Steve are. Simply because I just wanted to write a little ficlet about SamBucky and didn’t do much research. Don’t think too hard about it :)

(and the link to the Tik Tok I saw on tumblr that inspired this is also linked on my ao3 fic)

Hope you enjoyed! 

-vix

#sambucky #sambucky fic #sambucky fanfic #bucky barnes #sam wilson #sam wilson fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #sam wilson fic #sam wilson x bucky barnes #the falcon #the winter soldier #winter soldier #supernatural creatures au #modern au with magic #background tonyrhodey #mcu #mcu fic #mcu fanfic #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #marvel #ficlet #my writing #vix writes #crossposted on ao3 #inspired by a tik tok i saw on tumblr #link to tik tok on my ao3

[refinedbuffoonery]

Mr. & Mrs. Claus

You should know that I wrote this whole thing just for the bad pick-up line Mac uses. And then I got hit with major baby fever while writing the end and....you’ll see.  Merry Christmas, y’all! ❤ 

Established MacRiley AU

*****

Riley’s only warning to Mac’s arrival was the slam of the front door before he yelled, “I’ve got the rings!” His boots clunked on the hardwood floor as he walked down the hall to their bedroom. “Let me get dressed and then we can go—” 

Riley met Mac’s eyes in the bathroom mirror. He stood in the doorway, slack-jawed, taking in the full effect of her costume. Smiling to herself, Riley finished applying her mascara, arching her back and sticking her ass out for his benefit. 

Mac cleared his throat. “Wow. You look incredible.” 

She twirled to give him the full effect. The stretchy, ribbed material of her off-white sweater dress clung to her body, stopping just below her knees and leaving nothing to the imagination. Her favorite black, high-heeled boots gave the outfit just a bit of edge. But the real showstopper was her coat—crimson velvet trimmed with fake fur, swirling gold and silver embroidery, elegant bell sleeves. It even had pockets. 

“This is my favorite part.” Clasping her hands behind her back, Riley swayed back and forth, watching the bottom of the knee-length coat swish like a bell. 

“It’s stunning,” Mac said, still a little stunned himself. He finally closed the gap between them. “You’re the hottest Mrs. Claus in LA.” 

“Literally,” Riley joked. “This outfit is toasty, and in case you didn’t realize, it’s definitely not cold outside.” According to her phone, the high was supposed to be 74 degrees. 

Mac rubbed her arms. “In all seriousness though, you look beautiful.” 

Even after all this time, Riley still blushed. “Thank you,” she murmured against his lips as she pulled him down for a quick kiss. 

She sat on the bed, unashamedly checking her boyfriend out while he changed into his own Santa costume to match hers. He fished around in the pocket of his discarded jeans and pulled out a pair of rings. “Matty said we, and I quote, have to return these to the Phoenix tomorrow, so no using them to build a homing beacon or something.” 

“Got it,” Riley said dryly. “No homing beacon.” She reached for her ring, but Mac seemed to have other ideas. He handed her his ring instead—a white gold band with a thin, but ornate border. 

Mac spoke in a deep, announcer-like voice. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Mr. and Mrs. Claus. Mrs. Claus, you may go first.” 

Riley held his left hand in hers, playing along. “Do you, Santa Claus, take me to be your wife?” She tried to be serious, but her lips curled into a smile without her consent. 

“I do.” Riley slid the ring on. Mac continued, “Do you, Mrs. Claus, take me to be your husband?” 

Riley made a show of thinking it over first. “I do.” He slid the ring—an engagement ring and wedding band fused together—onto her finger. She’d worn it before. Like Mac’s, it was white gold, but the tiny diamonds set into the bands made it glitter in the light. The engagement ring part had a princess cut diamond surrounded by more tiny diamonds, making the whole thing walk the fine line between opulent and gaudy. 

She looked up, and Mac’s soft smile made her want to melt in a puddle. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he announced, lacing their fingers together. 

“Okay.” Riley wrapped her arms around his neck. “You do that.” 

*****

They drove Riley’s Jeep to the hospital, since someone forgot to go to the gas station on his way home, and they were already late. They’d gotten a little distracted after their fake wedding. 

Mac rested his hand on Riley’s thigh while she drove. She leaned away from him, resting her left elbow on the door and holding the top of the steering wheel with her right. When Mac didn’t take the hint and started caressing her thigh instead, Riley batted his hand away. 

“Oh no,” she scolded. “We are not doing this right now.” Mac pouted in the passenger seat. 

They arrived at the hospital, hauling two massive bags of presents with them. The hospital administrator met them in the lobby to escort Riley and Mac to the children’s wing, thanking them and the think tank profusely for the entire duration of the walk.  She and Mac exchanged the same sly look they always did when someone referred to the Phoenix as a think tank.

Meeting the kids went by in a blur. Altogether too many young, bright faces swarmed the waiting room, clamoring to meet Santa and Mrs. Claus. With each kid she met, Riley was in awe of how they were all so positive and happy and full of laughter, even though many of them were so sick and would be spending Christmas in the hospital. 

The kids gravitated to Mac like moths to a flame. He sat and talked to each one, asking how they were doing and what they wanted for Christmas. They asked him ridiculous questions, like what snacks the elves like best and who his favorite reindeer was. In a classic Mac moment, he explained to a wide-eyed group of ten-year-olds that male reindeer lose their antlers every winter, so his reindeer are actually all females. 

Every time Mac walked past—which Riley suspected was far more times than necessary—he squeezed her arm or grazed a hand down her back, and Riley couldn’t help the smile curling her lips each time he did it. 

After a while, Riley gathered the kids and read a picture book version of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. Pausing to show her young, captivated audience the pictures, she flicked her gaze to Mac. He stood in the back of the room with his arms crossed in a very un-Santa-like manner, chatting softly with one of the pediatricians. The rainbow lights of the Christmas tree behind him cast him in a warm, pink glow. 

The kid closest to her tugged on her coat, and Riley turned her attention to the girl. She was probably ten or so, with intense, dark eyes that probably never missed a thing. Including Riley’s wandering attention, apparently. “Are you checking out Santa?” she questioned. 

Caught. Riley cleared her throat. “Um—” Giggles erupted throughout her audience. “So what if I am? He’s very handsome.” 

The girl scrunched up her face. “Gross!” Riley joined in on the second wave of giggles before returning to the story. 

Later, after the chaos of opening presents, the adults rounded up all the kids and settled in to watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. The hospital administrator set it up so the movie projected on an empty wall. Mac pulled up a pair of chairs behind the projector and motioned for Riley to sit. Lacing their fingers together, Mac leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for doing this with me.” His expression was raw and unguarded. 

Riley squeezed his hand twice in response. “Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 

They’d barely made it ten minutes into the movie when the shyest kid—a six-year-old boy wearing Spider-Man pajama pants who looked like a tiny version of Bozer—crawled into Riley’s lap. The boy didn’t say a word; he simply nuzzled his face into Riley’s shoulder and wrapped his tiny arms around her waist. Riley let go of Mac’s hand to pull the boy into her chest, where he fell asleep for the remainder of the movie. 

Afterward, Riley carried the boy back to his room while Mac started to say goodbye to the other kids. They’d been there more than half the day, and for many of the kids, it was time for blood tests or scans or chemo. Or maybe just a nap. 

Riley hugged the last kid goodbye with a bittersweet smile on her face. The little boy in her arms was so young, four or five at the most. Behind him, his mom mouthed, Thank you.

When the boy finally let go, Riley looked him square in the eye. "You be good, okay?" He giggled, nodding furiously before returning to his mom.

The boy and his mom walked away, leaving Riley and Mac alone in the waiting room. Riley stared after them. That had to be so hard, watching your kid have seizure after seizure and then spending days in the hospital, waiting for answers the doctors didn't have.

"Riles." Mac's low voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "You okay?"

She blinked. "Yeah, I was just thinking about that kid."

"I know," Mac sighed, rubbing his face. "He asked me if I could stop his seizures for Christmas."

Riley's heart clenched. "What did you say?"

"I told him I'd try my best."

Riley swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. Without thinking, she drifted into Mac's embrace, hands finding purchase on his chest and resting her cheek on his shoulder. His arms circled her, pulling her tightly against him.

She couldn't string the right words together to describe how she was feeling. Sorrow, for the kid whose childhood was now destined to be filled with doctors and hospital trips. Empathy, for the single mom trying her best to remain positive for her kid's sake. Admiration, for the way Mac smiled reassuringly at the little boy despite the tears welling in his eyes. Riley settled for, "I love you." She kissed Mac's cheek.

Pressing his lips to the crown of her head, he said, "I love you too."

They stayed like that for a long time, only parting when Riley said, "Let's clean up and go home."

Remnants of wrapping paper and plastic packaging littered the floor—all that was left from the bag of presents they'd brought. Well, that and the glitter. The ungodly amount of glitter that was, to Riley's horror, everywhere.

She picked up a wad of half-crumpled wrapping paper, sending a flurry of gold glitter airborne. Most of it landed on her clothes. Great. She'd be finding those damn gold flecks for months.

Mac chuckled behind her. She whirled on him. "It's not funny!" she said with mock offence, sticking her tongue out at him.

But he wasn't looking at her face. His eyes tracked her every movement, lingering on the places where her off-white sweater dress hugged her curves beneath her long, red coat.

Riley made a show of brushing the glitter off her dress, starting from her knees and working upward, drawing Mac’s attention with her movement. When Mac's gaze finally reached her eyes, she winked before resuming not-so-innocently picking up wrapping paper. Riley kept her back to him, waiting for Mac to make the next move. 

Hands locked on her waist. Mac tugged her closer, his lips grazing her ear as he spoke. "I'd put myself on the naughty list for you."

Smirking, she replied, "Oh really." Riley glanced over her shoulder and had barely even realized Mac's face was still right there when his lips landed on hers, and he spun her to face him fully. The pile of wrapping paper she was holding fell to the ground at their feet, covering their boots in more glitter.

The kiss wasn't very good. Riley couldn't stop smiling, no matter how hard she tried to pull herself together enough to kiss him back instead of bursting out laughing. I'd put myself on the naughty list for you. He said that as if he were on the nice list in the first place. They broke way too many laws on a weekly basis for that to be true. Not to mention, Mac's non-consensual cell phone breaking alone was enough to put him on the naughty list for life.

"Are you just going to keep grinning like an idiot, or are you actually going to kiss me back?" he teased.

It took all of her concentration to pull off even the most chaste kiss. A little too eagerly for being in a hospital waiting room, Mac sucked on her lower lip and slid his tongue into her mouth, his hands sliding under her coat and caressing her sides.

Riley had just gotten it together enough to slip her own tongue in without getting a mouthful of teeth or fake beard when she heard a faint giggle. Her eyes snapped open, and she saw the cutest little girl peeking around a Christmas tree. 

“Santa, we have an audience,” she warned. 

Mac pulled away, blushing faintly, but his hands lingered on Riley’s stomach for an extra second. He gestured for the little girl to come closer. Sheepishly, she rolled out from behind the tree. Tinsel covered every available inch of her wheelchair, and the wheels lit up when she rolled in a way that reminded Riley of the light-up sneakers that were popular when she was a teenager. Not that she'd actually owned a pair, of course.

Mac squatted in front of the girl, whose wild blonde curls were equally unruly as Riley's own hair. "Were you spying on us?"

"Maybe," she said with a shrug.

Mac twisted to look at Riley. I like her. "What do you think, Mrs. Claus?" he asked. "Do spies get put on the naughty list?"

Yes. She winked. "I think this one can stay on the nice list. She managed to sneak up on Santa, after all. Very impressive."

The kid beamed. She had no idea.

"Yes," Mac said slowly, "very impressive." He turned back to the girl. "So, what do you want for Christmas?"

The girl listed a whole bunch of presents, claiming she wanted to give Santa options. Mac listened intently, nodding at all the right points.

Something warm bloomed in Riley's chest as she watched the scene unfolding in front of her. To say Mac was good with kids would be an understatement. When a kid spoke to him, he always gave them his full, undivided attention and took every word very seriously. When a kid was being serious, Mac was serious, and when a kid was acting silly, Mac would be twice as silly. And as a result, he could crack even the shyest and grumpiest of kids, and, more importantly, they would trust him. 

A thought popped into Riley's head. I want to have his babies. As if her body was reiterating what it already knew and her brain had just figured out, her hands unconsciously drifted to her abdomen. 

The same spot Mac's hands hands had lingered a minute ago, she realized with a start. Did...did he want kids with her too?

Riley wanted kids—she wanted kids with Mac—but she also knew that neither of them were ready to give up their job. They couldn’t keep doing what they did with a kid in the world. After growing up with absentee parents, they’d never risk leaving their kid to grow up without one or both parents. 

But when the time finally comes, when she and Mac are ready to trade in getting shot at and making stuff explode for stability and mundane normalcy, she won’t be able to wait any longer to start a family with him. 

She waited until they were in the Jeep before broaching the subject of kids. Tentatively, she began, "What were you thinking about back there when you put your hands on my stomach?" The look on his face then said he was definitely thinking about something, but Riley didn't want to assume what. 

Mac dodged her question. "Sorry, I didn't realize I did it." 

Riley knew that was a white lie, but she didn't call him on it. He'd answer honestly in his own time. Since it was too big a subject to outright ask him, Riley took a more subtle route instead. “Do you see yourself having kids?” 

His eyes widened in response. “You know I want kids.” 

That wasn’t what she meant. Wanting them and actively reshaping your life in order to have them were completely different things. “Yeah, but do you see yourself settling down, getting a safe, normal job, and raising kids?” They’d vaguely talked about this before, long ago, but Riley suddenly needed to ask him again. 

Mac was silent for a long time, staring out the front window. “Yeah, I do,” he finally said. “With the right person.” He glanced over at her, eyes softening. 

Me too, Riley wanted to say, but she choked on the words. It took her a couple tries, and the words came out strangled, but she was pretty sure Mac understood. Neither of them needed to say it directly in order for the other to understand: I want to have kids with you. 

Riley spent the rest of the drive fantasizing about the kid-filled Christmases in her future. She glanced down at the ring on her finger. First step, she thought. Get a real ring. 

#beth writes #macgyver #macriley #christmas fic #established macriley au #macgyver fanfiction

[infinitegalahad]

JOYQUEX NOËL À TOI MON ANGE 

Summary: It's Christmas in Bastogne and you make Eugene's world feel normal for a moment. 

Word-Count: 1.6k 

A/N: I wrote this, running on a cup of dunking as I listened to French Christmas songs. Literally the one thing that sucks about being the youngest sibling out of three older siblings (big age gaps) is that everybody can get drunk but you and it’s hella awk🥲 anyways this not very original but it’s something I’d love to share. Gender neutral reader. Happy holidays! 

The Holidays were always a pleasant memory in your mind. Leading up until Christmas day, the thrill of December made your cheeks warm. You closed your eyes, and as it flashed in the darkness, children laughing, the smell of pinewood and hot chocolate, a small gust of wind hitting against the window during a snowstorm, wrapped paper spread all over the ground. It was like that every year in your home with your overbearing parents, thousands of gifts that you didn’t need, and your siblings running around with their new toys. What you didn’t know is that you took that for granted.

Fluttering your eyes back open, you jumped back into your unfortunate reality. Instead of opening gifts and overeating, you were scrunched into a wet, dirt-filled foxhole. Not only were you cold, but your hand ached. There was an extended cut in your palm, but it had dried and frozen over. You ignored it to the best of your ability. Heavy flurries rained down onto the sky, finessing against your exposed skin as you shivered. You held your rifle close to your body, but nothing was keeping you warm. Snow used to be a pleasant memory, and it was now something you despised. You were beyond drained, emotionally, and physically. There had been so much blood and loss in the past few hours, and it was hard to follow along. Men you considered family died left and right as the guilt tug at your heart.

It seemed like a Christmas Miracle that the trees were exploding. It was eerily calm in Bastogne. You were far away from the company, nestled in a foxhole that was opposite to the Germans. The only noise that you heard was the wind and the muffled melodies coming from the Germans. You zoned out as your eyes stayed on the line, your gun by your side. A shell could hit you, and you’d be gone. It could be long and painful or short and quick. It was bittersweet, but if you were going to die, you wanted it to be over with—a flash of your life between your eyes and then darkness. Death wasn’t something you ever imagined yourself thinking about, especially at a young age. But here you were in Bastogne, freezing as you waited for an occurrence.

Instead of a shell, you heard distant footsteps walk towards your foxhole. Whoever was next to you plopped right next to you as their more prominent shoulder cuddled against your shaking one. You didn’t think much of it and just stared into the distance as everything became blurry and your eyes stung with tears. You would do anything to be back at home right now.

“Everything okay?” The voice said-a thick Cajun accent. You could hear it intrude into your thoughts, but you couldn’t move. Your eyes swelled as you sniffled your nose, shaking as you watched the tall trees and snow fade into mushy colors of black and white.

The Thick, Cajun voice came from Eugene. He softened his expression as he looked at you, shaking and trying to hold in your icy tears. Your lips quivered as your nails, bloodied and jagged, dug into the cold metal of your gun.

Eugene froze for a second as he grasped his thoughts, all eyes on you. He was usually distant from the group. Not because he didn’t want to be friendly, but the thought of losing another person with the gut-wrenching feeling wasn’t worth taking. It had been put into his mind since day one. You, however, were different. Kindness was something that war wasn’t associated with. You were a warming force in the cold night to Eugene; your smile or laughter with a snort would make him melt. But instead, you were holding back tears, and it was tearing Eugene up.

Licking his chaps lips, Eugene scooted over and bumped your shoulder. He sunk into the collar of his jacket as he looked into your [y/e/c]. “Y/n?”

Once again, you jumped back into reality as Eugene’s voice jumped out at you. It wasn’t even loud but a small call of your name. Fixing your position, you wipe your red nose and crystal eyes, nodding your head. “Yeah?” You managed to spit out as you held back tears.

You moved your hand away from your face, moving it downwards to your gun. Instead of feeling the cold metal brush against your skin, your hand was caught by a soft and warm hand. You turn your head over to Eugene, who is furrowing his eyebrows at your bloodied hand.

“Hey, hey…” He interjected as he exclaimed in your tiny hand with a long cut in the palm in his bigger one. His index finger stroked your tiny one as you looked at him with a blame expression. “How’d you do that?”

Freezing for a second, you thought about how you got the cut. It was all so blurry to you but involved a bunch of screaming, blood, and pain. You had caught your hand onto a barbed wire while with Eugene. You looked at your hand, which rested above Eugene’s, as you saw the large cut. You shrugged your shoulders and let out a sigh, “I forget. I think I was rushing.”

Eugene remembered it. Shells were going off left and right, and you grunted as hot blood spilled from your hand. He tried to run back to you, but he had to aid dying men. Biting his lip, he responded as he grabbed his bag, digging for supplies. “I’ll fix it up.”

Pulling out a cloth, Eugene held up a blue cloth. Out of the black trees and white snow, the Olympic blue headscarf shined. It reminded him of the kind nurse that he had formed a friendship with it. The last time he ever saw her, she smiled at him as he went back into combat. Renee was her name-an an angel from heaven. Like y/n, she was a kind soul. Caring. Her touch made men and women soften. Both of you had bloodied hands, talking about how you never wanted to see a dead man again. Renee was a nurse; you were a soldier. Both of you lead different lives, but you had one thing in common; you were angels.

Eugene sat there, holding the cloth up. You noticed him freeze and turned over, nudging his shoulder back. “Gene?”

“It’s for you, a gift...Joyeux Noël,” Eugene said, putting the cloth in your hand, “I was gonna get ya’ somethin’ for you in Paris, but we never got ‘dere. I know I’m doin’ this wrong, but-”

A smile grew on your face as you admired the scarf. You looked at Eugene and hid behind the scarf, concealing your blush. “It’s perfect...thank you” You thanked, “I had no idea you would do this, or that for the matter. But thank you, Eugene.”

Eugene watched your every move as you took off your helmet and tied the scarf on. He didn’t know how to word it, but you looked gorgeous. You were one of the most beautiful people Eugene had ever seen, and you didn’t even have to try. From your kindness to your natural beauty, Eugene knew he was in love with you. That warm feeling with his heart racing, cheeks growing and softened expressions. You softly smiled, turning to Eugene. Your smile was his weakness.

“You're perfect, y/n.” He muttered as he scaled your body, his cheeks redder than his nose. Your hand-sculpted perfectly into his bigger one as he squeezed it. You didn’t even need to respond as you smiled, holding out your bloodied hand. In Bastogne was the angel and medic in a foxhole on Christmas day, smiles exchanged as they held hands.

Eugene held your hand and nearly forgot that you had a large cut. The two of you shared a small moment of peace before jumping back into Bastogne. You threw your helmet back on as Eugene found a dirty bedcloth and tore it, still holding your hand.

You sat there quietly as Eugene worked on wrapping your hand. A smile was spread on your face. To be fair, Eugene had that same smile. Eugene and your shoulders collided as he slung an arm to pull you closer. For body warmth, obviously.

“Hey, doc?” You mentioned.

He turned over, raising an eyebrow, “Yeah?”

“You called me y/n again.” Eugene wasn’t one for nicknames. He always addressed you by y/r/n or y/l/n, never y/n. He did this to everyone, but this time was different. The two of you were different around each other. The way Eugene said in his accent made you weak in your knees. You wanted to hear him say your name thousands and thousands of times.

Eugene’s lips curled as he continued to wrap your tiny hand. “Yeah…” He looked down before looking back into your eyes. You’re big and gorgeous [y/e/c]. The headscarf matched well with your [y/h/l] [y/h/c] and soft [y/s/c}. Everything about you was perfect in Eugene’s angel. Y/n, the perfect angel.

“Y/” You playfully mimicked, deepening your voice. You chuckled when Eugene nudged your hip side.

“Y/r/n” Gene said in loving exasperation, a smile on his face as well.” “Watch the godamn line.”

You and Eugene sat in the foxhole together as he wrapped your hand while you watched the line. The Krauts sung Christmas carols as Eugene pulled you close to him. You leaned into his shoulder as sung you Les Anges dans nos campagnes.

And the world felt calm in that little moment you shared with Eugene of stolen bunny kisses, a headscarf, and Eugene’s soothing singing voice. You didn’t understand the words he whispered into your hair in French, but you did understand one word.

“Joyeux noël à toi mon ange,” He murmured as he left a small kiss on your cheek.

You still kept your eyes on the line as you once again buried yourself into his shoulder. “Merry Christmas to you too, Eugene.”

#eugene roe x reader #band of brothers #Eugene Roe #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #eugene roe imagine #carrie writes #people need to take my laptop away from me and dunkin as well #I really don't have a life and Lorde is making me angsty tonight #angst is the only thing I can write well lol #and by I mean angst with a happy ending!!

[gureishi]

Ohhhh, requests? Requests!!!! ❤️

We all know and love SE and the Choi family (Mc, Saeyoung and Saeran living together in the bunker).... But what about. Other way arround?

Saeran after ending, with saeran and saeyoung making amends, and you finally befriending and getting to know the true person behind 707.

Im happy with whatever ideas you have for this, but if you need more guidance... A scene between saeyoung and Mc, talking? Saeyoung thanking mcfor making saeran happy and feeling like he failed as a brother for not protecting him, and mc being all sweet as she is reassuring him that it's OK and that they are happy now and just fluffy??????

Gosh, I wrote a lot, sorry.

Oh wow. I ADORE this request. Thank you for bringing me this sweet idea. ♡

I love envisioning their lives together post-AE, and it was so much for fun me to imagine this tiny little slice of that. 

after

Saeyoung & Reader (platonic); Saeran X Reader (background), G, words: 2355

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Today there’s one of those early-winter snows where the flurries get stuck in your hair but the ground’s not white and beautiful, just cold and damp. The parking lot is nearly empty—apparently no one else wanted to go out today. Personally, you can’t understand why. You love the way the sky’s a bright white and how the biting wind makes the tips of your ears pink.

Saeyoung, who’s been walking a few paces ahead of you, turns around in time to see you stop and catch a snowflake on your tongue. He raises his eyebrows; he’s got his hood up and there’s a light dusting of snow on top of his head, like powdered sugar.

“I was gonna ask if you regretted coming along now that it’s snowing, but I guess I have my answer.” He’s got a complicated look on his face, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to laugh at you or not.

“I have no regrets!” you sing, and then he does laugh, shaking his head indulgently.

“Come on,” he says. “Your shoes are getting wet.”

“Your shoes are getting wet. Also your head. Who goes to the store in just a hoodie in the winter?” But you run to catch up with him, splashing in the little puddles that have collected in the uneven pavement.

“It was the hoodie or the floor-length pink fur coat, so I went for the hoodie,” he says, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. 

The automatic doors slide open for you; he grabs a shopping cart from the assortment parked just inside the door. You walk beside him, feeling a little awkward. Grocery store etiquette, you think, is such a personal thing. Saeran, for instance, likes to go slowly through the store, lingering in each area—looking for inspiration, sometimes checking recipes on his phone. You like to move through the store at random, picking out items that strike your fancy. These methods work surprisingly well together—perhaps because Saeran finds it charming when you come running up to him with a strange new fruit in your arms.

Saeyoung, it seems, has neither a list nor a plan. He pushes the shopping cart lazily with one hand, heading vaguely toward the nearest aisle. You’re tempted to guide him in one direction or another, but you also don’t want to be a nuisance. This is his shopping trip—he was the one who announced he was going to the store; you were the one who’d insisted on tagging along.

“Are you sure?” he’d asked then, hesitating, one hand already on the doorknob. “You don’t need to! I can get whatever you—”

“I want to,” you’d said firmly, jumping off the couch where you’d been lying with your feet in Saeran’s lap, reading a book. It wasn’t that you needed anything in particular from the grocery store or that you didn’t trust Saeyoung to find whatever was needed for the house (though, in retrospect, it wasn’t that you did trust him, either). It was just…

In the few precious days that you’d been living in the bunker with the brothers—in a world that was suddenly so peaceful you couldn’t quite believe it—you’d begun to realize something: in spite of the hours of phone conversations and chats you’d shared with the enigmatic and charming 707, you actually hardly knew Saeyoung at all.

“So, uhhh,” he begins, a bit uncomfortably. You glance at him askance; his cheeks are pink. “What do we need, anyway?”

You laugh—you can’t help it. “What were you going to buy if I didn’t come with you?”

Saeyoung shrugs, looking down. He’s definitely blushing. “I was gonna…wing it.”

Maybe it’s his inexplicable shyness with you and maybe it’s your genuine love of grocery shopping, but your confidence is bolstered. You take the cart from him and he relinquishes it gratefully, falling into step behind you.

“First we’re going to get produce,” you tell him, and he nods eagerly, bouncing on his heels. He honestly looks excited that you’ve taken the lead; you make a mental note about this. At home, Saeyoung is often in charge—of little things, like what movie you’ll all watch together—because he is boisterously enthusiastic about everything and you and Saeran are more subdued. But here, without his twin, outside of his domain, he is suddenly much less confident.

You select a few types of squash; he watches somewhat reverently. “How do you know what to get?” he asks in a quiet voice.

“Practice, I guess,” you say. “I have in mind a couple of recipes we can make this week, and there are some staples it’s always good to have…” You pause, realizing something, your hands full of squash. “Saeyoung, can I ask you something?”

“What? Yeah!” He responds a little too readily and you know he’s trying to mask his awkwardness. It’s endearing.

“You lived alone for a pretty long time,” you say thoughtfully. You survey the selection of cabbage. “Didn’t you…buy food? To eat?”

He laughs, runs a hand through his already-messy red curls. “God Seven doesn’t need food to live!” he sings, and it’s in the tone of the 707 you’d developed a strange friendship with during those days you were at Mint Eye. You know now that Saeyoung was there, even then, under all that false positivity and diversionary teasing.

“You do, though,” you tell him. You hand him a head of cabbage.

Your firm tone seems to quell him. He looks down at the cabbage. 

“I ate snacks, mostly,” he says, a little more quietly. “Sometimes Vanderwood got frustrated and brought me other things to eat.”

You turn away to hide the look in your eyes from him. These poor, poor boys.

“You two!” you explain in mock-frustration, pushing the cart to the next refrigerated shelf. “So you were living on junk food while he was keeping himself alive with caffeine pills. What am I going to do with you?”

Saeyoung bounces behind you, still holding the cabbage.

“Feed us!” he says. You roll your eyes and tear a plastic bag off the role beside the shelves. 

“Put the cabbage in the bag,” you tell him. He does.

You gather a few more fruits and vegetables and Saeyoung asks about all of them; you’re amused when he doesn’t know what a persimmon is.

“So besides chips and stuff, then, what do you like to eat?” you ask him, pushing the cart into the large, open area where meat and fish sit on ice, row after chilly row.

Saeyoung hums thoughtfully, peering at a particularly large fish, complete with eyeballs and everything. “This is creepy,” he says. “Can we get it?”

“We…can,” you say. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.”

He walks a little ahead of you, and he looks at each different type of meat with such curiosity. They’re both like this, you think—so full of wonder over basic, mundane things. Saeran was in awe the first night the three of you settled in on Saeyoung’s huge couch to watch TV together. And now here is Saeyoung—who’s had considerably more freedom than his brother—staring at an assortment of different cuts of meat like he’s in a museum.

“I’m not sure,” he says finally, tilting his head to the side. “I love chips, and, you know, fish-shaped buns…”

“But is there a meal you like? Maybe from, I don’t know, the past…?” You regret the words as soon as they’re out of your mouth.

Saeyoung laughs bitterly. “Not from childhood, if that’s what you mean.”

“Right,” you say. “Yeah. I knew that. I’m sorry.”

He comes back to your side, leans on the cart. “It’s okay,” he tells you. “I don’t mind.”

“Still,” you say. “Sorry.” You steer the cart toward a display of different chicken parts and he pads along beside you—like an obedient dog, you think.

“What’s the difference between…” he bends over, peering at the packages. “Breasts and thighs?”

You giggle. “You tell me.”

You watch as his face turns red, clashing wonderfully with his hair.

“Um, l-let’s get the…thighs, I guess,” he chokes, and you stifle your laughter with your hand.

“Thighs it is.”

He throws the chicken into the cart with his face turned away and you grin. 707 was a tease, but it is easy to fluster Saeyoung. 

You move through the aisle of bottled sauces in companionable silence. You hold up a bottle of bottle of soy sauce and he nods enthusiastically; he does the same for the fish sauce and corn syrup. To test him, you hold up a banana ketchup—which you’ve personally never actually tried—and he gives you the same affirmative head bob.

“Saeyoung, do you know what this is?”

He tilts his head to the side, reads the label.

“Banana ketchup? Yum!”

You sigh. “Fine.” You toss it in the cart; maneuver to the next aisle.

“You didn’t even have soy sauce or salt or anything in your house when we moved in,” you say. “There was literally nothing in the cabinets.”

He strolls along beside you, running a finger along the rows of different kinds of pasta. “It never occurred to me.”

“We were kind of surprised,” you add, tossing a big bag of rice into the cart. “We bought a bunch of stuff, before we…left.” You stumble over the words; gears spin frantically in your brain. The words hang heavily in the air between you. Before we left to find you. Before we found you and then lost you again.

He’s silent for a moment and you know he feels the change in atmosphere, the way time seems to have slowed down.

“Hey,” he says finally. He’s got one arm draped over the side of the cart and his posture is a little stiff. “Did I ever thank you? I mean, properly.”

You bite your lip, keep walking. Your face feels hot. Suddenly, you’re not really looking at what’s on the shelves.

“You did,” you say softly. “But I feel I should be the one thanking you. You’re the reason we’re both alive, you know.”

Saeyoung stops, and you almost crash into him. He spins around, and he’s got a hard, determined look in his face. You’ve seen that look before. 

“No,” he says. “Nuh-uh. You saved us. You protected him. You did what I didn’t…couldn’t—”

Ah. Your heart’s pounding against your ribcage. Of course it’s here, you think—in this narrow aisle, next to hundreds of loaves of bread, that he’s saying this to you.

“Saeyoung, he knows that you would die for him. You tried to.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, walks away from you, lingers at the end of the aisle. The change in him is remarkable. There’s no hint of the awestruck boy, bouncing up and down over the wide selection of steaks, in this morose, bitter man.

“I didn’t succeed, did I?” he says. A mother with a small child seated in the front of her shopping cart comes down the aisle and you back up into the shelves to let them pass. You wonder if they can feel how thick the air is.

“No, you didn’t,” you say. “And thank god, because where would we be if you had?” He finally looks at you then, and you’re taken aback by the wild look in his eyes. It scares you; you take a step toward him. “You fought for him,” you tell him. “And he fought for you.”

His fingers drum a frantic pattern on the metal shelf beside him. He’s got the look of a cornered animal, ready to bolt. You’ve seen this expression before—though on a different Choi brother.

“I was supposed to protect him,” he says, so quietly you can hardly hear him. You take one more step. Another. Finally you’re at his side, and he flinches, but he doesn’t run away.

“You did,” you say. “And he’s safe. All of us are safe.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“We’re going to buy this stuff,” you tell him. “We’re gonna pay for it, and get in the car, and go back home, and he’ll be there. Waiting for you.”

Saeyoung shuts his eyes and takes a long, slow breath. You do it with him. He runs a shaky hand through his hair again and you give him a little nudge with your elbow. Eyes still closed, one side of his mouth twitches upward—a half-smile.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know.”

“I just feel like I owe you…”

“Me too.”

His eyes open; they’re clearer, bright and gold behind his glasses. 

“You don’t owe me anything,” he says, and it sounds like a question.

“I love him,” you say. “So, I think I do.”

Saeyoung shakes his head; the color’s back in his cheeks now, and he grabs the cart, pushing it out of the aisle. You jog to catch up, grab onto the side just as he’d done earlier. Hold on tight.

“You love him a lot, don’t you?” he says. You can see him in your peripheral vision—his eyes are twinkling.

“More than anything in the world,” you reply.

“Me too,” he says, echoing you, and you grin. You picture the look on Saeran’s face if he could hear this conversation—the way his green eyes would soften, the way he’d get that adorable little dusting of pink over his cheeks. 

Saeyoung turns the cart abruptly, maneuvering into the next aisle with an expertise you didn’t expect—you shriek, barely holding on. He cackles.

“We need this!” he says, and you turn to see him pointing at an alarmingly large box of some sort of purple cookie you’ve never seen before.

We don’t, you almost say, but you hesitate, because what’s the harm? 

“Sure,” you say, and you toss them in the cart.

Saeyoung smiles. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says. You know he’s not talking about the stupid cookies.

You beam right back at him. “I am too.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

@currentlyprocrastinating @thesirenwashere  @ultrasupernini @cro0kedme @otomefoxystar @dawn-skies06 @nad-zeta @hunterelys

#mystic messenger #request #gureishi writes requests #soft-enbee

[insaneasgardian]

Anushka's Wild Day

Based off this crazy dream of mine

Ty @bionic-staring-machine for giving me the idea to turn it into a fanfic.

I don't know what the heck I wrote, it's trash, but I'm willing to roll with it if you will.

.

.

.

"Would you look at the time Anu! It's late, you should probably get home before your parents start to think I kidnapped you." Tony Stark chuckled at his intern.

Anushka smiled and nodded, grabbing her small bag that sat on one of the work benches in the lab. "Today was great Mr Stark, thank you so much!" The girl chirped, giving the man a small wave before she turned towards the exit of the lab.

"Bye kid" he said, still engrossed in his work.

Suddenly, a red light flashed throughout the lab, and a loud, high pitched siren sounded through the compound. Anushka stopped in her tracks, dropping her bag to shield her ears from the terrible sound.

"There's been a breach in the compound! Someone broke in!" Tony shouted, throwing aside whatever small gizmo he'd been working on.

"I'll initiate lockdown protocol" he hurriedly rushed over to one of the many computers and began to rapidly type away.

Anushka knew she should be helping her boss, but she stood grounded in pure fear, as she saw two figures enter the lab. They wore dark, black ski masks that covered their faces, and she could see their white teeth flashing at her in a creepy smile.

She shrieked as one of them raised a gun at her. She ducked behind a table just as a bullet almost pierced her.

This earned Tony's attention immediately, he looked to see his intern crouching frightenedly behind a work table and he turned to glare at the two men, who had now turned to him.

The taller of the two pulled off his ski mask, and Tony got a good look at him. He had long bright red hair, and a wicked grin, enough to make any person cower and shrink away. However, Anushka knew that Tony wasn't any person he was fricking ironman. So she looked at him hopefully, absolutely certain he would blast the asses of these guys.

The billionaire looked at the teenager and shot her a reassuring smile, before stepping forward. Unarmed.

The other intruder pulled his mask off too, exposing his jet black hair, and green eyes, he had a scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt, it gave Anushka an unnerving feeling.

"I'm Harry Potter, this is Bill Weasley, it's a pleasure good sir" this man said in a British accent, gesturing to himself and his red headed colleague.

"OH, FLIBBTIY GIBBIT YOU HARRY, JUST SHOOT THE BUGGERS!" Bill cried.

"Errr, right, sorry" Harry apologized, rubbing the back of his neck before sending a flurry of bullets onto Tony.

Anushka almost cried out for her possibly dead boss, but much to her shock, Mr Stark stood just as tall and proud as he was before. No bullet wounds or blood were present anywhere on his body!

"Huh?" Anushka breathed out, very confused at the moment.

Out of nowhere, Tony ripped of his skin as if it was a mere piece of paper. He literally RIPPED it off, and underneath that skin, was none other than the Vision.

"Pleasure to meet you Harry and Bill, I am Vision" he said politely, and Anushka almost rolled her eyes, before remembering the odd situation.

When it finally sunk in, some tears left her eyes and she let out a loud sob, attracting everyone's attention. "You killed Mr Stark, didn't you? Now you're wearing his skin!" She bawled.

Vision rapidly shook his head, "No! Don't cry! Tony Stark is very safe!" he assured.

"Well where is he?" The girl questioned.

Before Vision could respond, Captain America's shield came flying into the room, hitting Bill, bouncing off his head, then hitting Harry, killing them both before finally returning to Steve Rogers who had just entered the room.

"Here I am kid" Steve said, ripping off his own skin as well, revealing Tony underneath it. Honestly, for some reason, Anushka wasn't surprised.

"If you're in Steve's skin, where's Steve?" Anushka pried.

"He's in Thor's skin, don't worry" Tony said, "But you're in danger Anu, we have to get you to safety".

"How exactly am I in danger?" the teenage girl asked, lightly jogging behind Tony as he walked out of the lab, the both of them leaving a very lonely and friendless Vision behind.

"Uhhh.... I don't know, all I know is I have to get you somewhere safe, so I'm taking you to my best friend Todd's house" Tony told her as he chose out a car in his garage for the both of them to take.

Anushka narrowed her eyes in suspicion, "Sounds sketchy, but okay" she said, "Also, I thought Rhodey was your best friend, who the heck is Todd?".

Tony sighed, "Ever since Rhodey stole Pepper's skin and pretended to be my wife, I cut ties with him".

The two of them then climbed into a huge truck and drove to Todd's place.

When they finally got there, Anushka stepped out and Tony drove away instantly, leaving her in the dust.

"Oof" she said as one of the tires ran over her foot, crushing all the bones inside.

Reluctantly, the girl trudged to the house in front of her and knocked on the door. It opened immediately, and a handsome man stood there, looking at her with a smile.

"Loki?!" Anushka exclaimed.

"My dear child, my name is Todd" the man said.

But Anushka wasn't convinced. She'd come across Loki many times, and would recognize him anywhere. This man wore glasses, and had light brown hair with a reddish tint, but it was obviously a wig because strands of black hair could be seen poking out the side. He shared Loki's green eyes as well.

"Mhmmm, whatever you say Loki Doki" Anushka said, pushing past the man and walking into his house uninvited.

"Rude mortal child" she heard him mumble behind her, before he shut the door and turned to her with a sigh.

"If you aren't Loki, why are there so many knives in your house?" Anushka asked as she looked around.

"Uhhh... because... I'm a murderer... A HUMAN ONE!" Todd said hurriedly.

"Understandable" Anushka said, strolling around the house.

"If you aren't Loki, why do you have so many cats?" Anushka asked again, stroking a ginger kitten.

"Because I am an old, crazy cat lady wearing Todd's skin"

"If you aren't Loki, why do you have the tesseract on display in your living room?"

"THAT'S ENOUGH QUESTIONS!" Todd (Loki) screeched, startling Anushka.

"Ehehe..." he nervously laughed, before darting into his kitchen and coming out with a platter of cookies.

"Would you like one?" he asked, pushing the plate in her face.

Anushka eyed the treats warily, they were covered in green icing, with gold lettering that said "Loki is low-key".

She snorted, "You really aren't low-key".

"Yes I am, you have no idea that I'm Loki of Asgard about to poison you with my cookies, you think I'm Todd".

"..."

"Crap" Now confirmed Loki muttered.

"Thanks for the cookies, but I'd rather wake up, bye bye" Anushka said before vanishing before a very astonished Loki.

The End

What the hell did I write

#tw skin #tw skin pulling off #tw skin wearing #tw dead people #i am sorry this is so bad #wtf is this #loki laufeyson fanfiction #tony stark fanfiction #death tw #dream tw #tw death #marvel #harry potter fanfiction #avengers #mcu #funny mcu #funny avengers #funny marvel #tony stark #loki laufeyson

[vanillafrog]

Everything

Pairing: Javier Peña/You (F Reader)

Summary: Under that seemingly impenetrable shell was a soft man who just needed to be loved. Whether or not he would allow himself to be loved was a whole other thing.

Word Count: 2,330

Warnings: Angst, Fluff and Smut (aka the unholy trinity), Unprotected Sex (wrap your tool, ya fools), I said let Javi be soft, Creampie, Rough? Sex, Smidgen of dirty talk, F receiving Oral Sex

A/N: The homies read it first and live on voice chat right after I wrote this. Also, at this point in time, I've seen exactly 1 (one) episode of Narcos and Javi for like a minute lol.

Javier Peña was an asshole. Everyone who ever met the man could easily tell as much. Yet you knew that Javier was truly a soft man under all that armor. It was obvious in the way his eyes scanned over the crime scenes left over. How they lingered on the civilian casualties for a moment longer than the others. You could see his softness in his vices. The vices he chose to control his feelings.

Javier Peña was an asshole of a man but he was soft. It was that softness that killed you just as much as it killed him. That softness made you want to protect him. Made you want to hold him even though you already knew that would never happen. Not because you thought he wouldn’t find you attractive enough to take to bed. You knew you were more than attractive enough. It was just the fact that Javier would never allow himself a moment of gentleness.

So the crush you had on your coworker was pushed as far back as your head would allow it and continued trucking on catching narcos.

Things changed slowly along with the seasons. You didn’t even notice it at first. It’s not like you knew how Javier was with people he cared for.

First, it was the touches. They began after the first blood bath you saw together. Truthfully you weren’t that phased. It was something that happened and from your past job, you were practically numb to warm corpses. Javier wasn’t. Even after being in the field longer than you had. You had noticed the way his eyes flashed with hurt and you couldn’t help but reach out and rub his arm.

He had flinched at the spontaneous touch. You threw your hands up to show you weren’t trying to hurt him. He had stared you down for a good while before continuing on with his job. That interaction was never discussed. Instead, in passing, Javier’s hand would slide across your lower back when passing you. When you had to pass folders to each other, his fingers would brush yours and send a wave of heat through you.

Soon Javier started to talk to you more. It wasn’t like he was particularly mute whenever you were around. He just didn’t talk about anything other than work with you. So Javier starting to open up and have random conversations about old childhood stories or what it was like when you were a cop, you chalked it up as him starting to see you as a partner. Steve had made a joke to you about Javier having a crush on you but you just shrugged that off.

Even with limited knowledge on the inner workings of Javier’s mind, you knew for a fact that Javier didn’t do feelings. Everyone in the office knew of Javier’s flings with prostitutes and lack of commitment. It wasn’t a secret. Javier seeking conversation was just him seeing you as a trusted partner. Maybe a friend if you really wanted to stretch it.

It began clear to you that Steve might be right and that Javier might want you to hold him like how you wanted on a disgustingly hot day. The raid that was planned out ended up being an ambush. There were lots of injuries and casualties left over.

Steve had gotten shot. Nothing fatal but shot nonetheless. When Steve was sent away to the hospital, Javier was hovering over you. He kept asking if you were okay. If you were sure you were okay. That maybe you should let a paramedic take a look at you. It was incredibly endearing but extraordinarily annoying and out of character.

Javier had followed you back to your apartment and came in under the disguise of making sure you don’t randomly keel over. In your apartment, Javier wandered the living room. He looked at the pictures of friends and families you had set out along with a bunch of knickknacks you had collected over the years. He lingered over one. It was an old thing your mother had found for you years ago in a garage sale. You weren’t sure of what it was exactly but it looked like a jumble of gemstones forged together. Javier picked it up, rotating it around in his hand before turning to look at you. He held it out to you with a question.

“What is this supposed to be?” His eyebrow was raised and he looked slightly amused even though some darkness lingered in his eyes. You grabbed it from his hand and placed it back in its spot, not realizing how close you two were until you looked up at him.

“No idea.” His eyes roamed over your face. He seemed to be taking in every detail as if he would never see it again. His large hand gently caressed your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, completely missing the look of surprise and adoration that flashed across Javier’s face.

When you opened your eyes again, his face was much closer to yours. He searched your eyes for another refusal but when you nodded, he sealed your lips together.

There were few times in your life when you have been kissed in a way that had left your breathless. Those few times were make out sessions where you were clawing at each other to get naked. This wasn’t that. This kiss was gentle. It was sweet and warm. It was everything that felt like home and the sun and all things that you missed from the states. Yet the gentleness knocked the breath out of you. You never expected Javier to do anything so sweet. It wasn’t until Javier pulled away and rubbed at your cheek that you realized you had started to cry.

With a sniffle, you pulled Javier into a hug. At first he tensed but slowly melted into your embrace. His arms snaked around you and pulled you closely to him. He nuzzled his face into your neck. For a few moments, maybe hours, you held each other. The only thing you could hear was your synchronized breathing. It was so calm compared to your chaotic lives. You didn’t want to pull away but you knew this couldn’t be forever. Slowly, you peeled yourself from Javier, putting some feet between you so you can think properly. He seemed nervous all of a sudden.

“As you can see,” you broke the silence. “I’m more then okay so you don’t have to stay for me.”

Javier was silent for a moment before he looked out your window and thought. You studied his profile while he did. Everyone with eyes could tell that Javier is a beautiful man. Gorgeous brown eyes that were soul-grazing. Pouty lips framed with a thick mustache. An amazing nose that you dreamt about skimming your skin late at night.

“What if I’m not okay?” He spoke slowly as he turned back to you. It was obvious he was unsure of himself. Never in his life had he admitted to not being okay. He never did it to himself, much less anyone else. This was the moment you realized that Steve was right.

With a soft smile, you responded to him. “What could I do to make you feel better?” Javier shifted foot to foot before slowly crowding back into your space.

“Can I kiss you?”

“And how would kissing me help you?” He inhaled and responded in a breath.

“You’re soul healing.” Truthfully, you had no idea what that meant but it tore something in you. This was a man covered in bullet proof armor stripping himself to the bare minimum in front of you. He was slowing you his hand and hoping you would grab it rather than push him away. And how could you ever push him aside? This beautifully vulnerable man who also happens to be the toughest and strongest man you ever met. How could you ever deny him anything?

Placing your hands on his shoulders and leaning up on your toes, you pecked his lips. Javier tensed before placing his hands respectfully in your hips and pulling you closer for a real kiss. It was just as soothing as the other. You pushed your hand into his hair to pull him closer to you and the temperature changed. What was once mellow and calm began an inferno. His arms moved to wrap around you completely, one hand settling into your lower back and the other grabbing the back of your neck to angle you how he wanted.

The kiss became more frantic and you could feel the butterflies in your stomach turn into a feeding frenzy. Javier pushed you into the wall behind you. He ground his hips into yours and you could feel his arousal. His hand pushed up into the front of your shirt to skim the skin of your stomach. A moan escaped your mouth, being swallowed by Javier. He pulled away, breathing just as heavy as you.

“I should go.” You never sobered up so fast before.

“Why?” Your voice was slightly raspy and a little whiny.

“I don’t want you to think I’m using you.” Javier frowned slightly. Oh this sweet, soft man.

“Javi...” You placed both your hands in either side of his face. “Fuck me now and afterwards we can cuddle and relax.”

Javier practically growled before pouncing on you. He picked you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to your bedroom. Later you would have to ask him how he knew where your room was. In a flurry, you both were undressed and Javier was kneeling at the edge of your bed with your legs over his shoulders.

“Fuck, mi alma, you’re so wet for me.” He licked up your slit causing you to moan and arch your back. His hands tightened on your thighs with a growl. Without hesitation, Javier started eating you out like a man starved. He stuck his tongue into you, curling it up to make you buck up. Thrusting it, he moved his hand around your hips to rub tight circles around your clit. You started grinding down on his hand. Your hands were pulled at his brown locks as you chased your release.

He pulled away long enough to say, “Fucking cum on my face,” before going back to fuck you with his mouth. His command was enough to push you over the edge. Your back arched up as your grinding stuttered and you groaned loudly. Blood rushed in your ears and you barely processed Javier continuing to eat you out until you fell back to earth and had to push his head away due to over sensitivity. Javier kissed up your body before devouring your lips. The taste of yourself on his lips reignited the flame in you.

“Please Javi,” you whined out. Javier shushed you before reaching down and grasping his cock to run along your soaked folds. “Please fuck me, Javi.”

With a kiss to your forehead, he pushed in. Your mouth feel open in a silent moan as he slowly stretched you out. Once his hips met yours, he groaned and stilled. His eyes were closed while he dropped his forehead to rest on yours. You rocked your hips up, “please move.”

Javier growled before he pulled out, allowing you to feel every inch of his cock before he pushed back in fast and hard. You cried out, raking your nails down his back. He set a pace that absolutely destroyed you. His strokes were long and curled up perfectly allowing him to hit your g spot and cervix at the same time.

“You are so perfect for me.” His nose slide across yours and down your cheek. “You were made for me. Mi alma, mi luz del sol.” He bit down on your jaw. “I can feel how close you are.” Your walls were fluttering around his cock. He moved his hand in between your joint bodies. “Cum for me.”

His fingers swiped your clit as his pace picked up just enough that you fell over the edge instantly. You were pretty sure you screamed his name but you were too floaty from your orgasm to notice or care. His thrusts turned sloppy.

“Fuck fuck I’m so close,” Javier moaned out.

“Cum in me please.” Just as he did to you, he throbbed inside you at your command. His cum coated your walls as he continued to thrust inside you, making sure to get it as deep as possible. Eventually he slowed to a stop and dropped some of his weight onto you. You ran your hands along his spine to ground him as you savored the peaceful moment. When Javier was back, he wrapped his arm around your back and rolled over. You laid on his chest as his softening cock stayed inside.

“You’re everything,” Javier whispered into the night. “Not just a one night stand?” You didn’t mean to sound self conscious but sex, good sex at that, broke open your emotional walls and left you vulnerable.

“I haven’t had a one night stand since I met you.” Your head snapped up to look at him bewildered. He chuckled in a way that could only be described as insecure. “I know, surprising.”

“How come?” Your fingers played with the curls at the base of his neck.

“I knew the moment you touched me for the first time, there would never be anyone else.” You smiled up at him before pecking his lips and placing your head back on his chest to hear his heart beat.

Javier Peña was an asshole. He wore his walls high and his armor impenetrable. Yet, he laid exposed under you showing you all the softness you knew existed in him. He called you his sunshine, his soul without ever realizing that he was just as much your life as you are his.  

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña/You #narcos #Javier Peña/Reader #I literally wrote this at like 2am so yea #vanillafrog fics

[shootingst4rpress]

familiar patterns, 1.3k

(this wasn’t long enough to be a Fic fic but i wrote it in one evening the day after declan suzanne got alternated no beta no nothing so i’m posting it here. no beta we die like tilly henderson)

this new declan opens boxes, shuffles through paper, rips apart this room to try and find something of the person he’s taken the spot of. he doesn’t, but the effort’s there.

edric, who apparently is/was his friend, who says they know what he’s going through, lends a hand. they don’t do much as declan leaves a storm of bedroom artifacts in his wake, of video game cases, of leftovers of someone else.

this isn’t right, they repeat, again and again. i want to go home, like a kid in the back of the car, i want to go home.

there’s a single shoebox under the bed, away from everything else, and declan rifles through it like an explorer, or maybe a cartographer, like someone who looks to make sense of things.

he grabs a printed photo on glossy paper, shows it to the edric guy, sitting on the edge of the bed and swinging his legs. there is declan in the photo, or someone who should be declan. there is another man. his eyes are very wrong.

‘who the fuck is this guy?’

edric cocks his head to get a better look. ‘that’s fuckin, tilly.’

the man in the photo stares out. he’s holding onto declan’s arm tightly, leaning on his shoulder, smiling. his smile is just, fucking annoying. no-one actually smiles like that unless they’re making fun of you.

edric must have spotted the nothingness on his face.

‘tilly? tillman? tillman henderson?

‘who?’

this declan goes to watch some of the firefighters games, even though he’s not playing. his team don’t mind his presence in the dugout - they are, apparently, his old friends, so they let him. it’s a game against the crabs, which apparently means something. it’s all too overwhelming to think about, to process, so they just resolve to Not Do That.

the game is fun to follow, to be fair! it’s easy, simple, comforting. it feels normal.

across the field, kennedy loser is Haunted.

declan feels like he should recognise the guy from the photos, because half the people on the field turn to look at him, playing candy crush on the dugout. 

that fuckin’, ghost guy, has his eyes fixed on them, mouth open like a goldfish. the first ball whizzes cleanly over his shoulder, thwaps against the ground. his face twists. declan thinks he might be about to cry. he won’t stop looking.

then a flurry of motion as the crabs catcher grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him back, because he’s just tried to run off home plate towards them, trying to get rid of the catcher furiously, but he’s only a little guy. declan catches what he’s shouting for a moment,

‘where is he!?’ he yells across the expanse of the field. ‘what have you done with him! what the fuck have you done with him!’

he shrugs off his teammates and gets a good few metres towards the dugout before the catcher in her red jersey grabs him by the arm and pulls, hard. 

‘give him back!’ declan hears, before the man strikes out and leaves this body.4

this declan gets a text from kennedy loser, who they had no idea they owned the number of. it doesn’t look like it’s been dialed since they got it.

Can I come round to yours? Tillman wants to talk

yeah okay

i don’t mind

Cool. Is tomorrow after the game okay?

yeah whatevs

See you!

they’re dreading this. they pace around their their room in a fire department that isn’t the firehouse. they don’t attend the game, but they let kennedy in when they arrive. 

‘okay, uh, sorry, i’d love to stay and chat but. tillman’s pretty impatient.’

they’re in declan’s little part of their fire station, like a college dorm - one kitchen, one bedroom, one bathroom, declan awkwardly on the sofa they never would’ve bought. and then there’s that bright light and plume of smoke, the disorienting feeling that lingers for a second too long as reality bends in front of them—and the guy from the chiclawgo game, the guy from the photo, tillman, is standing right in front of them.

he sits down on the other side of the sofa, like he’s been rehearsing this exact set of actions for weeks.

they both try their hardest not to make eye contact.

after an agonizing minute, tillman sobs. 

he’s fixed on declan in a way that makes their skin crawl, the way he looks at them up and down like he’s searching for something he can’t find. declan tries not to meet his eyes.

this, by all accounts, should be his boyfriend. he should feel something about him, grief, maybe—anything. tillman sniffs a little, half hidden tears. declan hates it.

in a bid to kill whatever this is, declan gently places one hand on tillman’s cheek, leans in and kisses him so softly that it might not be anything.

and tillman just sits there, frozen utterly in shock, until he brings both hands to the back of declan’s neck with a fierceness and kisses back hard, hungry, starving. they will notice half an hour later/too late, that tillman’s eyes were screwed tightly shut. it’s messy, cruel, with too much teeth.

tillman melts into him desperately, and in the places where they meet, where tillman’s hand has moved down to the slice of skin between his shirt and the top of his jeans, if he was anyone else, he would be floating. their bodies do not tessellate. this kiss is sharp, and it is only the means to an end.

he breaks away as soon as he opens his eyes, shooting upright, walking over to the kitchen sink to hide the horror on his face that declan can’t help but catch. tillman bends over, like he might throw up.

‘i don’t love you.’ declan says, as if it’ll help.

‘i know. i don’t love you either.’

maybe, in another life, this silence would be shelter. but they are here, and this is no man’s land.

‘why.’ tillman whispers, barely noticeable.

‘what.’

‘why did you fucking come here? why are you here?’

‘do you think this was my fucking decision? do you think this doesn’t suck for me as well? i’m sorry i’m not your fucking boyfriend.’

tillman breathes steady breaths through his teeth. 

‘why did you even come?’

tillman swings around, hisses out, ‘because i thought it’d make me feel better.’

this is a means to an end, after all. this is a transaction.

‘fuck off.’

‘you fuck off. why won’t you just—’ tillman’s chest heaves, a conviction in his voice, ‘stop looking like him! stop being him!’

‘what—wh—’ declan stumbles. ‘seriously?’

‘stop fucking being declan! you’re not!’

‘don’t give me shit because your boyfriend fucking died!’

their words sink like lead, the weight of them. ‘he’s not dead, asshole.’ the room is quiet again, laid thick with silence.

declan doesn’t even fucking like tillman. he doesn’t like those kinds of guys, the repressed assholes, and yeah, he’s well aware that’s hypocrisy. but him? really?

fuck this. he crawls under his (his?) bed to find the battered shoebox hidden away in the back corner, brings it into the other room to tillman, holds it out to him.

‘if you can like, take shit back to wherever you are, like, have this. i was going to chuck it anyway.’

tillman opens the lid of the box. he slams it shut.

‘fuck you.’

‘fuck you too.’

tillman sobs again, voice choked. ‘fuck you. fuck off. i hate you.’ and he says it so solemnly, that declan almost believes it, that declan almost misses the ways that tillman’s eyes linger on his face. he’s searching, that he knows, searching for the missing piece that will bring his lover back, whole.

‘i’m going.’

‘go, then.’

‘okay.’

and then he’s gone in a flicker of light, and kennedy loser is leaning against the counter, panting from exertion, eyes wide. 

the shoebox, so full of little relics of love, is thankfully—gone.

#blaseball #tilldec #tillman henderson #declan suzanne #ellis nonsense #this is my first time posting writing to tumblr and it's not a good one so be kind #yeah im being cringe on main #read it tho

[asknarashikari]

Minific idea: Riders discover Touma writes shipping fanfics of them (thankfully, none of them are porn)

Omg Touma no XD 

It all started when Tsukasa, as per usual, decided to invade his junior’s house in order to raid his fridge.

The dimension-hopping Rider rifled through the fridge and found a sandwich wrapped in a ziploc baggie, a post-it note with the name ‘Ren’ taped on it. Tsukasa opened the baggie and fished the sandwich out, biting into it and nodding in approval when the flavor of chocolate and peanut butter filled his mouth. He got a glass from the cupboard and helped himself to some milk, too.

He looked around the kitchen as he munched on his stolen meal, not finding much interesting. He moved into the living area, unsurprised to see a large bookcase filled to burst with various titles. He perused them absently, until he came across one that didn’t quite fit in with everything else, mainly due to the lack of a title on the hardbound spine and its relative thinness compared to everything else.

Putting down his glass and sandwich, he carefully pried it out of the shelf. He flipped to the first page, whereupon his eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“What the fuck...?”

-----------

A few days later, the Riders were gathered together for hanami, at the insistence of the ‘mom friend’ Emu, who no one can say no to even if they tried. The annual flower-viewing party at Daitenkuuji was one of the few occasions that nearly all of them attended, and this year was the first time Touma was joining in on the fun. 

Well... it had been fun for the author, until Tsukasa loudly cleared his throat to call everyone’s attention. “So, I know that I’m usually the reason for havoc ensuing and causing trouble for all of us-”

“You’re always the reason for havoc ensuing and you only ever cause trouble for everyone but yourself,” retorted Shinji, causing nearly everyone to laugh and snort in agreement.

“-But this time, I’ve uncovered something far more terrible than anything I’ve ever done to you,” Tsukasa continued as if he’d not been interrupted. “Check your messages, I’ve sent proof of this grievous sin to us.”

“Alright, alright, we’re checking, just stop talking that way, geez-” Sento said as everyone did as they were told. 

Soon everyone had erupted into a flurry of flustered yelps and cursing, with variants of ‘What the fuck/heck?’ being the most oft-repeated phrase. 

“Wait a minute... this is Touma’s handwriting!” said Philip, and everyone turned to the novelist who was staring at his phone with an ashen face, all the blood having drained out of it when he saw the scanned photos of his work.

“What the fuck, you wrote fanfic about us?!” yelled Haruto. 

Touma looked up at them with a wobbly, awkward smile. “Uh... yeah... I guess I did?” He admitted sheepishly. “I never showed anyone else though! And I never wrote anything other than fluff!” he added quickly.

“That doesn’t make it any better!” Kazuma retorted. “Me and Hajime aren’t this lovey-dovey!”

“Oi, Kazuma, that’s not why you should be upset!” Shoutaro told the other Rider. 

“Why, Touma, why? I thought you were one of the good ones,” Emu said mournfully.

“I’m really sorry okay?” Touma apologized. “It’s not like I ever thought I was ever going to be a Rider myself! I wrote half of that stuff when I was in college!” 

“And the other half?” questioned Yuusuke with a raised brow.

Touma just bowed his head in shame. 

#kamen rider saber #kamiyama touma #ask #askrikkaiandhyotei