#something about a woman who loves chocolate is so hot to me? idk
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a request? what about your edging miguel and so you let him cum since he begging it however we continuing to do it? and so what about this but with cumplay ? you know,and he.....like into it,like you playing with he cum, on his body.thigh. abs, idk anywhere and just licking it idk?
so a kinda dom/sub!miguel x fem!reader
yea im crazy for a whiny men whos loves anything we do and espically whimper and beg
you with me girlie?
Yes yes yes, totally with you.
The plot for this was inspired by this ask, btw!!
@ce3stvu tagging my bby girl <3
Pairing: sub!miguel o’hara x dom!f!reader
Warnings: 18+, handjob, edging, cumplay, cum eating, dacryphillia if you squint, themes of jealousy
Summary: you remind miguel who he belongs to
A/N: i love dom!migs, but something about imagining that big man all whiny and crying is sooo hot
Word Count: 1K
It’s all that stupid bitch’s fault. The thought is swirling around in Miguel’s head on repeat as his hips pathetically twitch and spasm upwards to try and loosen the grip you have around the blushing tip of his cock. Still, you merely apply more pressure, squeezing his poor head so hard your fingers act as a makeshift cock ring, making it impossible for Miguel to acquire any sense of relief as your other hand fondles his heavy, aching balls with little skill, your only goal being to tease him.
This was a much better way of reminding Miguel of your loyalty to one another than talking it out. Frankly, you didn’t even know how to approach discussing the topic. You were supposed to be Miguel’s angelic, bubbly little girlfriend. You didn’t want to cause a fight over some random spider-woman from work.
Instead, you smile from ear to ear as you watch the beads of tears that cling to Miguel’s gorgeous, thick eyelashes as he sobs and begs to cum, after you’ve denied climax after climax with your possessive grip around the thick circumference of his dick.
There’s no doubt in your mind that other spider-people can hear Miguel’s unapologetic whines from outside his office, and the thought makes your mind a hazy fog of lust and pride. Hopefully, that new girl that Miguel was training, the one that kept running her grubby hands all over his arms and back like you were an idiot and wouldn’t notice her blatant flirting.
You had initially felt guilty when you pulled Miguel away from his sparring session with the girl, leading him to his office with one goal in mind: reiterating that Miguel is yours and yours alone.
But now that he's been forced into becoming this mess of desperation and sticky pre-cum, your worries and shame have vanished. Only your touch can make Miguel feel this way, making him lose all of his self-control and dignity. And he does the same thing to you. Sure, an outsider would probably say all of this jealousy and possessiveness is toxic or overbearing, but you and Miguel can't help but cling to one another. You're each other's soulmates. That new girl could never compare.
"Hah- ah, fuck! M-Mami, por favor… need- ah! need to cum. Please, please l-lemme cum-!" Miguel begs, his tear-stained cheek squished against the smooth material of your spider suit that conceals your tits, but the warmth of his face seeps through the fabric, his breath causing your nipples to perk up at the subtle contact as you lean over him and giggle.
You keep your fingers squeezed around his tip, rubbing his swollen head in circular motions as your other hand cups his balls in the comfort of your palm. The tension around Miguel’s tip is almost torturous, making him curse and thrash around in his office chair as he desperately attempts to make your hand slip even slightly so that his dick can breathe again.
The thick, chocolate-brown hair that adorns the tan flesh from his belly button down to his base caresses your forearm each time Miguel fails to push through the restraint of your fist and thrust into your closed hand.
You feel bad for taking your insecurities out on your poor, unsuspecting boyfriend, who was just trying to be a good boss and do his job, so you decide to give him a break.
"Yeah? You gonna cum for me, guapo?" You coo teasingly, releasing the pressure around the leaky head of Miguel's cock and instead starting to pump his shaft, your pace fast and sloppy as you make up for the time spent prohibiting Miguel from having any kind of release.
Miguel's climax hits him like a freight train, his back arching drastically and his claws digging into his seat as his rock-hard cock spurts bucket loads of cum up into the air, the gooey strands of his devotion to you hitting his toned abs and coating the hair on his thighs and stomach, creating a pooling mess of semen, sweat, and tears as he slumps back in his chair and splutters.
You watch with wide eyes as Miguel's cum decorates his tan skin, like an abstract painting of your composition. And you couldn't be more proud of yourself. In a hypnotised state of desire and devotion, you scramble to your knees in between Miguel's spread thighs.
With a smile on your face, you lick a fat, sloppy stripe from Miguel's pelvis up to his juicy pecs, gathering his cum on your flat tongue and swallowing. He tastes divine.
No other bitch would treat him like this, using her hands and mouth to worship him like you do. You lap up every thick glob of shimmering cum from Miguel's panting body, not even able to savour it due to your desperation to taste all of him.
"You taste so good, Mig." You moan, eyes fluttering at the salty, decadent flavour of Miguel's cum flooding your senses. Your hand keeps pumping him slowly, milking every last drop of his delicious cum from his cock as you worship his body and devour his essence as it glistens on his stomach and thighs.
Your free hand scoops up some of his mess to watch how the strings make your fingers stick together, before shoving your digits in your mouth and sucking the cum off your fingers.
Miguel chuckles and moans at the sight of his pretty girl so desperate to please him, all to ensure his loyalty. The fact that you're more willing to drag your wet tongue up and down his cum-covered, shivering body than have a conversation about your feelings is a little odd, but Miguel's not complaining. It's sweet to see how much you love him, and how much you hate that new bitch for thinking she stands a chance against you.
Miguel holds your chin in his hands and stops you from feasting on any more of his cum, directing your gorgeous face upwards so that you're staring into his eyes. You rest your tacky hands on his thighs, making him tremble ever so slightly at the way your skin sticks to his, binding the two of you together.
Breathlessly, Miguel whispers to you, his girl, his one and only, the love of his life, with a crooked smile on his sweaty, fucked-out face.
"Sólo para ti, hermosa."
sick and tired of miguel being depicted as the “jealous and possessive” one in the relationship. If I had a man like that, I’d be just as crazy
#ultravioletrayz#miguel smut#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o’hara smut#spiderman 2099 smut#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#spider man 2099 x reader#miguel 2099#miguel ohara#spider man 2099#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel ohara x you#miguel spiderverse#miguel x you
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Unhappy Christmas! | F. odair
Warning: ANGST, mentions of forced prostitution, mean!reader? (Idk lol)
A/N: My first language is not English and blah blah blah
_____
"Merry christmas!" You shouted excitedly at Mags.
You had won the 67th hunger games and, after going a little crazy, you started to overcome it. Obviously it is impossible to completely overcome it but, unlike before, now you know how to be happy. The other Vemcedores of District 4 had helped you find your way out of the fog that embraced you and sent you back again and again.
You could easily say who was the person who helped you the most, the one who gave you a hand when the darkness was consuming you and he got you out of there. The one who said words so your brain wouldn't shut down completely. The one who hugged you so you wouldn't fall even though your legs didn't respond to your call.
He's always been the one to help you, ever since his family helped yours not die in a fire when you were 6 years old. Since then he has always been there for you.
And you would like to do the same.
But lately that seemed like an impossible task and you didn't even know why, you didn't know what was wrong, you didn't know what was changing him. That's why you decided to invite him to the Christmas gathering with your family and Mags (Who, since your games, is also part of the family).
"Do you know if the bakery will be able to sell the cake?" You asked the old woman.
"They said they would have it ready by the afternoon my girl, stop worrying"
"No no no, this has to go well Mags, we've been enjoying a meeting for a long time without someone going crazy, and it's usually me, so I have to have everything under control" You said as you walked around the entire room, checking and criticizing the decorations.
Mags sighed with a smile on his face as your stress continued to grow, you had always been such a perfectionist. "If you keep this up you'll probably collapse before the meeting. Sit down, I'll bring you some hot chocolate."
"But Ma-"
"No buts" she said and walked at a slow pace towards the kitchen. You followed her, Mags was very strong but sometimes her old age worked against her.
"Maybe if Finnick would deign to help" you murmured annoyed, you were the one who had invited him, but he could have the desire to help with something, right?
"Oh...Finnick?" Mags said, looking at you with a look somewhere between amazed, compassionate and sad. That was not a good sign.
"Yeap, I invited him too, lately he's been a little... weird" You said, sitting quietly on one of the kitchen chairs and crossing your arms over your chest.
"My girl... I don't know why he didn't tell you but... Finnick- he's not here" And again, a sad and compassionate look but this time not at you. His gaze was completely fixed on the floor.
"Wha- What are you talking about Mags?" You laughed in disbelief, he accepted the invitation, he is going to come. "He told me-"
"He told you what you needed to hear, my girl. You love Christmas, he has no right to ruin what you had planned."
"He's doing it anyway. He's supposed to- He's supposed to come." You ran out of the kitchen, straight into your room.
Normally you wouldn't get like this, you had to change many plans with Finnick, it was normal. But it stopped being that way when he had been doing it for months, with every damn invitation. You open the doors of your friendship, of your kindness, and he closes them as if you were one of the many girls who are lining up to have him.
_________
Angry, stressed and more angry.
The meeting had already started. There was your family, other neighbors from Victors Village, and some friends of your parents. But he wasn't there, and that made you angry. Because you did this for him, he loved socializing but now he rejected any situation in which he could do it.
Before he took you out of the darkness and now that you are out you want to be in the illuminated area with him. But he is not there. It's like he didn't get you out of there, he just replaced places. And you are no longer able to find him, you do not see a hand to grab and pull, he is not here, not there, he is not anywhere.
Oh, and the damn cake wasn't ready yet.
"If that fucking cake doesn't arrive, I'm going to hang myself" You said annoyed in the patio of the house. You were waiting for the person to take him to your home but he didn't arrive.
"Calm down little one" your father said next to you.
Your impatience was beginning to radiate from you. Your mind only thought bad words and all of them were directed towards the bakery... and a few - or maybe many - towards Finnick.
"Look, it's here. Don't even think about tipping them!" You said towards your father. Sometimes anger makes you a bad person.
Both of you waited for the young man with a hood over his head to approach with the cake, but instead he continued straight, specifically towards Finnick's house.
"Is that Finnick? Didn't you say that he wouldn't be in District 4 today?" No, it couldn't be that you planned a damn mini party so he could fit in. The idiot pretended to leave so he wouldn't attend.
"I'm going to go say hello dad..." You were going to say a lot of things, but hello wasn't on the list of what you planned to say.
Finnick opened the door to his house and with a staggering step he entered, he was about to open the door but you screamed for him not to.
He closed it anyway.
Wow, today he was earning your fury. It's no longer a metaphor, he literally closed the door on you as if he were a stalker. And honestly you'd had enough of that. You had had enough of being ignored repeatedly in the last few months.
"Finnick come on! You lied about the Christmas party and you can't even open the fucking door to apologize?!"
Silence, he didn't answer you. You looked out the window and you didn't see him, you didn't see the friend to shout at, you only saw the darkness that he had entered a few seconds ago.
The window was open and, once again, anger made you a bad person, so despite creating several scratches on your hands and knees, you managed to enter through the window.
"You son of a b-" you screamed as you fell from the window to the floor.
"Y/N? What the fuck are you doing?" The spotlight turned, illuminating the room they were in.
"You! This is for you! Couldn't you be so kind as to open the door for me?" You stood up quickly, pointing a finger at him aggressively and approaching him.
"I- I didn't hear you knock-"
"Of course you listened! It's just that you've apparently changed so much lately that you couldn't even have a bit of fucking consideration."
"What are you talking about? Y/N what the fuck happened to your knee and why are you coming to my house like you're a fucking murderer totally bad at his job?" She raised one of her eyebrows, but her body remained relaxed on the couch, as if you weren't bothered at all.
"Do you want to know what happened to my knee? Well, I got hurt because you couldn't OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!" You moved further towards him. and probably thanks to your scream Finnick got up from the couch, confused but still relaxed. "Oh! And you know what? I threw a whole damn Christmas party because we're both supposed to love Christmas and YOU DIDN'T EVEN DEIGN TO COME! What the fuck is wrong with you Finnick?"
"Ok... you're a little upset, aren't you?" He put his hands on your shoulders and crouched down a little so he could look you in the eyes.
And normally you'd punch him but he's your friend, so you kept eye contact with him. You looked at his eyes helplessly, with impatience, but in his eyes for some reason you only saw sadness and sadness. They were a little red, as if he had cried, when he blinked his eyelids took a little longer than normal to return to their place and his eyelashes were shiny. "Look, I'm sorry, I had to leave in an emergency, okay? I figured the party was already over so I came straight home."
"There's literally loud music and people outside the house, unless you're blind, deaf and stupid, no, the party's not over." Tears began to build up in your eyes, 'and it made you upset with yourself. You didn't want to cry in a serious discussion.
"Well, I'm an idiot then. I'm sorry, okay? I swear I'll be there at the next party" he walked away from you a little. Sitting back down in the chair.
"Damn Finnick, I don't give a shit about the upcoming holidays, what I care about is that the last few months you've changed and I haven't even been able to change with you!" You said in a broken voice, tears already sliding down your cheeks and your mouth curling to try to contain the sounds of sadness.
Finnick didn't say mad, he just looked at you. And no matter how much you've been with him for 12 years, you couldn't decipher that look. He looked like the 14-year-old boy who was thrown into the sand again. He seemed without hope, without happiness. The only shine that was in them was tears. that showed their sadness but I don't know that it trickled down their cheeks, the pain that he kept only for him, that clouded only his vision.
"Finnick...I just want to know what's going on with us. Why don't we walk around anymore, or p-play or just- just talk? Why-why don't we do that anymore?"
"I..."
"Just tell me Finnick, because I'm trying but I don't even know what I have to do."
"I-I can't, I can't tell you. He-he doesn't allow it," Finnick said with a broken voice, lowering his head to the floor. You approached him and knelt in front of him.
"Who is he Finn? What are they doing with you?" You grabbed his face and made him look into his eyes, as teary as his own.
"Snow... h-he's worse than he looks..." he sniffed and bit his trembling lip "h-he's s-so cruel, he's a m-monster."
And just by saying who is responsible for why your friend is shedding salty tears, fear came to you. You knew that this man is capable of too many things and that scares you. It scares you that he showed that prick to Finnick and you didn't. You're scared that Finnick is cracking and you don't know how the first crack got.
"I've changed...he's changed me y/n and I dislike that" he sniffed again "and if you find out how he's changed me you'll probably never- you'll just walk away"
_____
What happens when there is so much darkness that no way out has been discovered?
What happens when fear overwhelms you?
Fear is darkness, and darkness is blinding. The problem is that fear is infinite. Everyone has a different fear, some are afraid of the dark, others are afraid of spiders, others are afraid of the sea, others are afraid of blood, others are afraid of heights.
But what happens when you are afraid of fear?
That's what happens with you. You know that the boy you have loved for a long time is afraid, and that scares you. But you can't do anything because the fears are infinite, the fear remains and blinds you.
The fear of your disappointment, the fear of your disgust, the fear of showing what he has become has blinded him. And you have seen it. But you don't know where that fear comes from, you don't know who or what is producing it.
So for now you only have to observe, continue fearing, remain scared but attentive, wait until the moment when his fears are weak, the moment when hope removes the blindfold from his eyes. And at that moment have it again.
Seeing that boy again who, although fear has changed him, will continue to be the same boy who loves having a nice Christmas.
#finnick odair#hunger games#fanfic#finnick odair fluff#finnick odair x reader#finnick x you#x reader#finnick imagine#finnick odair smut#finnick odair angst#finnick odair headcanons#thg finnick#odair
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!Miles 42 headcannons
HES SO HOT OMFG HES SO FINE ANS THIS DUDE KSDJGQIUG
HE BRAIDS AND HIS ACCENTS BRO IM ON MY KNEES AL-
fuck hes a minor dammit im a minor as well
no full on sexualizing p in v or whatever but lil things along those lines, nothing EXPLICIT ..i think, so yeah.
=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|=|
(This is mostly for me that is painfully lonely and needa vent my thoughts abt this man as a perfect bf is some ways, ..i feel like he'd be toxic though.)
this is mostly for uterus havers :(
-He is a GENTLEMAN. whoever said chivalry is dead has never dated Miles: Opening doors for you, Paying for everything, Always letting you in first, polite mf.
-He loves hand holding, this man will always have something on you, hand, shoulder, etc. PDA goes hard
-y'all can be talking and blabbing on about something but if you are talking for 'too long' this guy will suddenly give you a passionate kiss when you're mid-sentence to shut you up. (It always works.)
-JEALOUS MILES; he would seriously do anything w you in public if another dude is staring at you. scenario:
imagine y'all are at the mall, you are focused on the shop you two are walking to as you and Miles make small conversation and Miles has his arm around you. suddenly with his hand on your shoulder he turns your chin so you look at him then just kisses you. when you say something like '???' not that you're complaining but sudden PDA isn't 110% something you do, this mf would shrug and say something like "Just marking who's mine." and the guys staring would be long gone.
-Miles has a pic of you two in his phone background/wallpaper, the image slightly more zoomed in on you yet you both are visible.
-His phone is either pristine condition, like new 24/7 or a cracked monstrosity that barely can turn on. There's so in between; fight me on this.
-hugs from behind + nuzzling into your neck.
-when you meet his mom + uncle Miles'd show his more polite/loving side when introducing you to his mom and his more mature side with Aaron
With him mom: "Mami, here is my girlfriend ____" he'd say with a soft smile and gesturing to you.
With Aaron: "Yo uncle Aaron, meet my girl." he'd say as he gestures to you with a small nod.
-if you are Mexican and at one of your family's parties, he gobbles anything in his sight, he doesn't have much spice tolerance but he'd drown himself in salchichas a la diabla or would add too much sauce to his tacos al pastor. Literally; keep soda or Agua de jamaica READY for when he gets spiced. (He'd act like he isn't and would try to drink his drinks casually, as if his tongue weren't on fire.)
-He makes playlists for you, with songs he knows you'd like and would smile to himself if you hum the tune, he'd recognize the song and would play it in the car or something.
-Miles occasionally takes your phone and uploads himself on your Instagram story just as a 'reminder' to the guys that follow you on there.
-He is an amazing kisser, you can't prove me wrong istg.
-Miles will keep him being the prowler away from you completely, wouldn't even go with you once he was done as prowler just in case.
-He has so much respect for you, him having a single working mother and all? he is so respectful of woman.
-He can unhook a bra w one hand.
-Makes hickeys on your lower neck, stomach, thighs a lil on chest. (He's a lil mindful at the fact that you may not want visible hickeys everywhere so when he does any on your chest he does it where its at least covered by a bra.. sometimes.)
-He barely has a small idea of how periods work but barely, he knows to at least keep his mouth shut and to give chocolates. (And to decline some of your advances 'cause nobody is risking having kids.)
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My phone hasn't been working so i wrote this on my stolen chromebook so idk how the spelling or grammar worked
p2 and p3 made
#across the spiderverse#miles morales headcanons#42 miles morales#miles earth 42#earth 42 miles morales x reader#miles morales fluff#earth 42 miles x you#headcanon#spider man miles morales
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I’m seriously missing all the ruins chat!!! Idk if you were still writing little bit for it but if so then I had a thought. Imagine matty having to deal with Gigi when she gets her period, maybe for the first time or just in general. I feel like he’d panic but he’d try so hard to help her out🫠
awww me too ruins was such an era!!
i think when she gets her first period, maybe ruins girl is away, and gigi locks herself in the bathroom. matty knocks on the door like, "baby what's wrong?" and she wont tell him but he wont let it go, he keeps knocking, and then eventually she yells to him, "i got my period okay dad, leave me alone."
matty is silent for a second. as he takes this in. it's his baby and she is growing up. he is so happy and yet so sad at the same time.
"i think mum has tampons in the cupboard" he yells through the door, unsure what else to say.
"i'm thirteen years old, matthew," gigi says, "i'm not putting anything... inside me."
matty laughs. puts his hands over his mouth to muffle it so he doesnt upset her.
"that's fair enough, baba," he says, "what do you need?"
"pads. please. not fucking huge scary ones."
"language!" matty says.
"oh fuck off, matty, i'm bleeding!!! i should be allowed to swear."
he muffles a laugh again. "fair enough." he says again.
"get me nice ones please. i'm fragile," gigi says.
"nice.... pads?" matty asks, confused. he should have read more about teenage girls. paid attention more in sex ed instead of sling-shotting condoms at hann's face.
"you know," gigi says, her voice breaking a bit, "the ones that smell like flowers or something."
she starts crying half way through the sentence and matty knocks gently.
"baby, what you crying for?" he says softly.
"i dont know!" she sobs, but she is also laughing. he laughs too. until they are both in peels of laughter. gigi still sobbing too.
"are you in pain?"
"no," gigi says, "but i'm worried i might be later. i've heard cramps can be awful."
"well we will take it easy today, okay? watch movies?"
"can you just hurry up and get my pads please. i'm stuck on the fucking loo."
matty laughs again. "course baby sit tight."
he runs to tesco. he gets a basket and puts in ibuprofen and paracetamol and then some actual period pain relief with a picture of a women with what looks like a burning uterus on the front. he buys a microwave hot water bottle that smells like lavender. dropping one his basket for gigi then going back and getting another one. you know. for his own comfort. for his own self care day. he gets a bunch of chocolate and sweets and crisps. then he goes to the pads. he stares at them. there is loads. she asked for nice ones. ones that smell like flowers? what the fuck? he thinks. do those even exist. he rings you but you don't pick up. busy at work. he thinks about ringing again but he doesnt want to bother you. he wants to do this on his own too. he's a dad. it's his responsibility. he tries to google it but the ones that come up aren't on the shelves.
"are you alright?" a woman says next to him. she's around his age. it looks like. she's wearing a big coat even though its warm out.
"my daughter wants pads that smell like flowers," he tells her helplessly.
the woman laughs. she reaches up to the shelf and grabs some.
"how old is she?" she asks.
"thirteen," he says.
the woman reaches up and grabs a few more boxes.
"get her these too. and these," she says, "for options."
"thank you!" he says. he wants to reach out and hug her.
he takes them all back to gigi, who emerges from the toilet five minutes later with a frown on her face so deep it makes matty laugh again.
"dad!" she whines.
"sorry," he says, "i love how much you are growing up. i love who you are now. and who you were and who you will be."
she rolls her eyes. "shut up," she says. but she hugs him and asks to watch movies.
"of course baby, whatever you want."
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YALL I’M DYING
so my dad has this booklet lying around the house called “tips to romance your wife.” you’d think a book with this title would be written by a married woman, right? like, a wife? who would know what would be effective in romancing wives?
well. no.
this book is by dennis rainey of familylife. as in the evangelical christian company dedicated to spreading “godly values” in families. (last year, rainey was also convicted of a misdemeanor for cutting down trees on public property. go figure.) rainey and his wife barbara were also behind the “passport to purity” program, which provided 13-year-old me with an introduction to purity culture and offered such helpful advice like not to kiss your partner before the wedding, and compared a girl’s virginity to a water balloon (“if you poke the water balloon, the virginity will leak out, and you won’t have all of it saved for your partner!”)
so, that being said, let’s see what dennis has to say about romancing your wife.
some of these tips are actually kind of cute; some are bizarre. there's some good advice in here, and some that's just absurd (which is obviously what I'll be focusing on here lol). while some focus on sex, most focus purely on romance. in any case, a lot of these tips seem to apply a binary view of gender to sex and romance- stating that women and men have different ways of experiencing pleasure or romance from each other due to their genders. without further ado, let’s take a look:
right off the bat, we’re getting steamy. I wish dennis provided us with some examples here, because I would love to know what his idea of “subtle but suggestive” is.
well, what do you know. romance, arkansas is indeed a real place.
“whenever”????
a woman’s ears are very sensitive.
I don’t think this is going to please anyone, least of all the in-laws.
getting hot and heavy in the church, dennis 😳😳
this just sounds like an inconvenience for the wife.
“let her purchase” the sexy pajamas, implying that she needs the husband’s permission to purchase something for herself?
“ah yes, women like…” (looks at smudged notes on hand) “chick flick”
are you… not polite to your wife anymore after marrying her?
dennis, just say "have sex."
idk; something about this feels a bit icky to me? like I know it's probably just intended to be something cute, but I think it's kind of weird. I've seen couples make "date coupon" books, but something as basic as cuddling doesn't seem like this sort of thing would be necessary. if you and your partner can be physically intimate whenever you want to (it costs literally nothing, and you can do it any time), what's the point in making a coupon book?
I'm assuming the whipped cream and chocolate syrup are still in the containers... right?
ah yes, "don't cheat on your wife." I mean, it's not bad advice, but it's also literally the lowest possible standard. I wouldn't see someone not cheating on me as "romantic;" that's just. the bare minimum?
dennis, I would love to see the science behind this.
nothing says romance like plugging your business!
two things here. one, different individuals will view romance differently. "woman view romance differently from men," but like. women also view romance differently from other women, because people are individuals. also, while asking your wife what she thinks is romantic is good advice, what do we need dennis for? he's the one telling us what's romantic. IS DENNIS OUR WIFE ALL ALONG?
I was going to recite the entirety of the epic of beowulf in old english to my wife. thanks for clarifying the "romantic" part, dennis.
love the implication here that 1) your wife is automatically assumed to be the one doing the domestic duties and 2) co-parenting and helping maintain the house is something you don't normally do.
well, thanks, dennis rainey. time for me to go romance my wife.
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Some head-canons for cod characters while I work on a request and I’m at a family birthday party
Kinda suggestive on Keegans part, mentions of alcohol and smoking
Gaz
Held his mums hand in public until he was 17
Mamas boy
Had the type of father son relationship where they would play catch outside
Hot chocolate >> coffee
Absolutely terrified of kids but kids are all over him when he’s out in public or anywhere with kids
Whenever he got face paint as a kid at birthday party’s or something he always either got a tiger or Spider-Man
Gaming nerd
Constantly worried for Price because Price smokes
Most in tune with pop culture and social media
Has a tik tok account with 40K followers
He just posts training videos and self defence and people eat it up (people meaning me)
Pretty average childhood
First job was at a hotdog stand when he was 16
Ghost
Goes mute on rare occasions
Complete opposite of Gaz, loves kids but they’re terrified of him
Was a hot wheels kids but considering his childhood he would always just play with his friends hot wheels
Autistic
Secretly really attached to Price in a father son way but would rather die than admit it
Body is a HEATER. Literally never cold always complaining about how it’s hot
Insomniac (probably a trauma response but we don’t talk about that)
Joined the military to feel stronger than his father but stayed because he actually enjoyed it and made friends
On the rare occasion he does sleep he’s out like a light for at least 10+ hours
Type of kid in high-school to have no friends but didn’t care
Price
Favourite food is a scone
Scotch drinker
Trying to quit smoking for Gaz but struggles, needs a stress reliever from time to time
Body is also a heater but not as bad as Ghost
Was a sports kid in high-school
Kids are all over him and constantly think he’s like 97, he doesn’t mind tho he’s like a father
Typa dad to play catch with his kid
Recovering alcoholic
Very much popular nice kid in high-school. Everyone loved him and he got good grades
Sneezes like an explosion went off
Probably needs glasses to read
Soap
Basically deaf, “Huh? Huh? Huh?”
Kids hate him and he hates kids he likes it that way
Ate straight up mud and worms as a kid
Eats cereal RELIGIOUSLY
Body feels cold but he’s always saying how hot it is
Typa guy to walk an old woman across the street
Has a god awful amount of hair gel that he doesn’t even use because his hair defies gravity
Plays the bagpipes but not very well
Wakes up first. Without fail.
Ate dog food as a kid
No one touches the Mohawk (except Ghost)
Has a tik tok but like 72 followers and he gets so excited when he gets over 10 likes, he shows Gaz and Gaz doesn’t wanna break his heart by telling him that’s really not a lot
Loses his train of thought mid sentence
König
Also goes mute sometimes
When he gets too anxious and someone tries to talk to him and he’s not mute he’s speaking German and German only
Cold, all the time
Bounces his leg when he sits
Cant sleep properly for shit
Cuts his own hair because he hates having to communicate to people
His first birthday present was a fake crown from his parents
Kind of kid to hide behind his parents legs when he was little
Doesn’t drink or smoke or anything because it makes him sick
Likes soup idk why he just likes soup
Animal person but he’s so scared of hurting them especially really small animals like kittens
Gets sunburnt really easy
Sleeps with 5 thick blankets + 1 weighted blanket
Like soft fluffy things
Has to sometimes make his own clothes or blankets considering his size
Had a childhood cat that he considered his best friend
Keegan
Calls everyone who’s younger than him “kid” even if they’re just an hour younger or smth
Swears he’s a good driver (he’s canonically not)
Bit of a perv honestly (by bit I mean very much). He’s not creepy or anything just dirty minded
Was a Lego kid
Avoids children like the plague
Drinks beer but ever rarely
Also chronically cold
Was always the cooler older cousin
Like his steak burnt to a crisp
Spicy food enjoyer
Also good with pop culture and social media
Has a Twitter with 60K followers
Posts stuff in tactical gear
Knows what he’s doing if you know what I mean
Listens to metal
Also likes playing games
Really really nice hands
Ok that’s it for now. Can you tell I like Gaz and Keegan the most? Yeah. I want them
It’s so cold outside rn wtf
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Reassurance
I opened a request book in Wattpad so I guess I'll also be putting them here!
Fluff for Katara Clearwater x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Swearing, ...Kissing? (idk if that's a warning but yeah)
Katara sat in the snow next to the river, not caring if she got wet as she stared up at the night sky. The stars hypnotized her and she let them, shutting out the world around her. So much so that she barely noticed when a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders and someone sat next to her.
"Katara?" (Y/N), Katara's best friend, asked, two cups of hot chocolate in her hands. The steam from the cups floated upward before disappearing into the cold air.
After getting no response, (Y/N) placed one cup on the ground, setting a gentle hand on her best friend's shoulder.
Shaken out of her reverie, Katara blinked in surprise and looked over at (Y/N), who offered her a small smile. She held out the hot cup and Katara took it carefully, adjusting the blanket with her free hand. She hadn't realized how cold she had been until now.
Picking up the other cup, (Y/N)'s attention returned to Katara.
"What's going on?" she asked gently, moving so that there was little space between them.
"I just..." Katara let out a sigh, her finger tracing the edge of her cup. The liquid inside made a small whirlpool, following her finger's movement. "I feel like I was made for something more," Katara admitted.
"What do you mean?" (Y/N) asked quietly, trying to understand her.
Taking a sip of her drink, Katara thought about how to describe it.
Looking out at the river she shook her head.
"These powers that I have, they confuse me. I love them, but I want to know how to use them. And without having anything to use them for, I feel, I don't know... useless." Katara ducked her head, staring at the cup in her lap.
(Y/N) thought for a second before turning back to Katara. Taking her chin between her finger and thumb, (Y/N) tilted Katara's face up.
Katara's face held a confused look as she stared at her best friend. They'd known each other since they were babies, their mother's had been best friends. But the way (Y/N) was inspecting her face, a if she wanted to commit every inch of it to her memory, made Katara's stomach flip and heart speed up.
Her face heated up, eyes wide as she waited with baited breath for (Y/N) to say or do something.
"You aren't useless. I know me saying that won't change how you feel, but you aren't."
(Y/N) put down her cup and brought her hands to hold the sides of Katara's face, looking deep into her eyes. Katara put down her cup and brought her hands to (Y/N)'s wrists.
"You are the most talented, ambitious, and bold woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. You are gorgeous and headstrong and not useless. And- God, I just really want to kiss you right now."
A small gasp escaped Katara's lips, cheeks tinted pink and her wide eyes dilating.
"Then do it."
(Y/N) leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to Katara's, waiting for her to respond. She did so quickly, turning her head and deepening the connection. The two kissed each other with passion, their unspoken feelings flowing within every movement. (Y/N)'s hand came to hold the back of Katara's head while Katara's hand held (Y/N)'s neck.
Eventually they needed to come up for air, so they parted. Katara's eyes were still closed as she took a deep breath, trying to savor the kiss. (Y/N)'s eyes were open, thumbs tracing under Katara's eyes.
Finally blinking them open, Katara opened up her blanket, wrapping it around (Y/N)'s shoulders and prompting her to rest her head in the crook of Katara's neck.
"Thank you," Katara whispered, the two staring up at the starry night sky.
"Always," (Y/N) whispered back, hand holding hers.
End
--
#katara#avatar the last airbender#x reader#fanfiction#writer#reader insert#fandoms#oneshot#fluff#x fem!reader#x female reader#katara x fem!reader#katara x reader
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I'm stressed out. How do i know when i geniuenly like some sex acts vs liking them only because i was conditioned by society? Like with oral sex.
Can i like doing it because of who i am and sensory feeling rather than being taught to like it because people told me that as a woman i should enjoy pleasing my partner? I believe i like it for myself - the taste, the texture, the intimacy.
But now i'm overthinking about my sexuality and preferences. Is digging into our reasons for liking something enough to explore whether it's a matter of social conditioning or something we like because we as a person enjoy idk intimacy and closeness? (Like with enjoying french kissing and exchanging saliva because you find that closeness and acceptance of bodily fluids and functions hot)
I want to believe that i wouldn't naturally hate all sex acts that turn me on now - even if someone wouldn't tell me they are hot or expected from me as a woman. I geniuenly don't care about what society thinks i should do or how i should perform but at the same time my anxiety about everything i do is hard to contain. I want to like some things not just because i was told that i should...
You may very well be complicating the matter; if you don't dislike it, or feel an instinctive aversion to doing it, offer it willingly, go into it with no hitches or hesitations, you're probably enjoying yourself well enough. Rather than worrying about whether you're liking it for the right reasons, pay attention to whether you're enjoying it, period, at the time it's relevant. Give yourself the permission to say "wow I don't feel like this right now", even "wow I just realised I fucking hate giving head, sorry", if it comes to that. People aren't absolutes who either love something forever or hate something always, but rather creatures who adapt and evolve, so if you five weeks or five years from now realise you enjoyed something for the wrong reasons and now you actually don't want to engage with it at all, that is your right, as a human being, to set a boundary with.
It doesn't mean you have to, then, also regret and hate all of the times you engaged with it consensually, or that you enjoyed it or thought that you enjoyed it at a time. If you're not hurting yourself, doing something you like just for the sake of it is okay. You don't need deeper than life reasons to like it. Trust me, though; society has taught me through and through that sex is a two-way street, and also has to be had regularly in a relationship, and I've come to realise very viscerally that the only kind of sex I want to be having, ever, is a one-way street and only when the stars align - luckily for me, I've also found a partner for whom these terms are perfectly acceptable, and we happen to be compatible in this sense. But there can be no mistaking about the things that I do not like and do not want to be doing regardless of how much society has taught me to think that I should be liking or doing those things. The reaction against is quite powerful.
When it comes to the topic of "not minding" something and "liking" something, though, it can be harder. I think you just have to trust yourself on it - whether you'd be doing those things for no reward, just for the sake of itself, or not. Liking something means that you do it for its own sake, because you enjoy it; not minding is when you are willing to exchange something in return for the rewards it provides, and don't feel used or disgusted by what you're providing in that exchange, as in, you don't feel like the price for what you get is too high to pay. Imagine, for example: you like chocolate ice cream, and you'll get that as your primary choice every time. However, the store is out of chocolate ice cream, so you don't mind having vanilla instead, because while you're giving up on chocolate, you're still getting a nice ice cream for the money you're paying.
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my love 🥺🥺 i don’t know if you’ve already fallen asleep or not but as usual i want this to reach you when you wake up 🥺🥺🩷💎
today started out on a needlessly stressful note but i’m glad i overcame it fhsbfbdb and even more so i’m so glad you’re always by my side so i can have an easier time 🥺🥺🩷
later on i’ll have to grocery shop >_< it’s so hot outside tho… thankfully my dress is short 👉👈 hehehe 🤭 i’m so glad you like my dress 🥺🥺 and considering i’ll be the one choosing what to get for the week that means i can get ice cream that reminds me of you hopefully 🥹🥹 i hope they have some cookies and cream ice cream!! 🥺😭🩷🩷 i’ve been wanting some…
i keep thinking about you mommy… anyone tuning in… please look away for a second…
i caught myself smiling while using the bathroom just cause you were on your mind
i’m fine i swear 😭😭😭
i just love you mommy and you make me so happy 🥺🥺😭🩷🩷 i wanna look up cute recipes on pinterest to see if i can make some and think of you (i can’t cook)
also an artist i like released a new song that’s really nice and at first i wanted to relate it to you… but thing is the name of the song is pretty devil and to me you’re not a devil 🥺 not that a sexy devil woman wouldn’t be hot 😳 but mommy crystal is more like a goddess to me >\\\< 🩷🩷
i love you mommy 🥺🥺 i hope that if you’re sleeping that you’re doing so well, and if you aren’t i hope you’re happy right now because i need that 🥺🥺😚🩷 my love i’m sending you many kisses and hugs for you 🥺😚🩷
good morning my baby~ 🥺🥺🩵🩵 you're so sweet waking up to your messages makes my day, like no matter what i have to get done seeing an ask from you makes me feel like i can take on anything 🥺<3 <3
things had a rocky start for you and honestly i was so worried but i'm glad everything turned out okay 🥺 i love being by your side always~ so happy i can help my baby have an easier time 🥺🩵
hehe thank goodness for your short, pretty dress~ 🤭🤭 (totally wasn't thinking about doing what you said you wanted me to do yesterday~ the fact that it's shorter for.. easier access) aww baby 🥺🥺 i wanna go to the store later on today so i can find some ice cream that reminds me of you~ (i still have my eyes on that tiramisu ice cream,,) and get those chocolate covered oreos too so i can pretend we had them together!
cherry,,,.. hhh oh my godhsghjsg i feel so... warm right now
suddenly the tyuntwinz good morning letter exchange has been changed to tv-ma 😳😳
you keep saying you can't cook but you can make so much stuff!! idk if i'm convinced <_< you're so housewifey baby 🥺🩵 there was this recipe for something called slutty brownies that i saw on pinterest that reminded me of you bc of all the chocolate (it was a brownie recipe with oreos in the middle and a chocolate chip cookie crust!!) they seem like a sugar overload but i wanna feed some to you~ 🥺🥺
ooh sounds like a sexy song~ 😳😳 hehehehjshgj you're the one who's like a goddess to me, my love i wanna worship you like you deserve~ 🥺🥺😳😳🩵🩵
i love you so much baby i think about you all the time and it's so fun finding new things i can point at and be like "omg,, that reminds me of cherry 🥺🥺🩵🩵" a recent one is coffee, sometimes i go into my kitchen and think "omg..... cherry drinks coffee 🥺🥺🥺🥺"
you're the best my cherry bear 🥺🥺 sending you kisses and cuddles mwah mwah~ 🥺🩵🩵🩵
#my pretty girl :(( my princess my blossom~#cherry you're so so sweet ;; and caring and kind and soft and talented and beautiful and sexy and cute..#you're everything ;v; !!#you're such a dream come true baby i love you so much#i had to write this out on my laptop bc my phone is lagging way too much#hopefully i can finally write a whole essay about everything i love about you >//<#bc i feel like i missed so many on moony's ask ;_; i was just barely scratching the surface#anyway... love you so much my dear 🥺🥺 i wish i could save you from the heat#cherry bear 🍒
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HI! I FINALLY HAVE TIME! VERY TIRED BEEN UP SINCE 7 BUT REALLY WANNA READ AND LIVEBLOG CAUSE I MISS THAT SHIT
also I think I might be lactose intolerant? but I only get really fucking bad headaches, nausea and the like from milk but am pretty okay with other dairy products and it...oh wait no ice cream and yogurt also make me sick after I pass a certain limit and is this why cheese makes my stomach feel weird sometimes? okay theory, I am not TOO lactose intolerant. main problem is milk and the rest I can have in limits. makes sense.
also HOW ARE YOU?? I'VE BEEN SO SWAMPED WITH THINGS THAT I'VE SPENT MOST NIGHT SO DRAINED AND DEAD IT'S CRAZY.
BUT I DID CATCH UP ON IALS AND READ THE FIRST 3 CHAPTERS OF LBAF.
alright! CHAPTER 4!!
david loml it'll be fine...probably idk man I am really scared for y'all
Alright random person...I will fight you in an abandoned parking lot for this DO NOT DO THIS SHIT
David :((
First I cry over IALS mavid...now I have to cry over lbaf mavid. what is this happening
DAVID! NO DO NOT DO THAT TO YOURSELF RIGHT NOW!
also there's this thing called Communication. Not sure y'all have heard of it though. Lmk if you need a dictionary :)
to the fucker attacking the institute, motherfucker I will literally push you off a building
maybe it's someone who wants him to not be the head of the institute for whatever reason?
Anyway Anjali so hot so efficient would literally die for her
david you good bro? God I love it when the kind ones go feral
no but srsly you good? Well no but like...Im worried. For his health. David :((
“Ask for help,” she said again. “And if you are feeling overwhelmed, take a break.”
QUEEN SHIT
“Revenge means you are being harmed in return for the suffering you’ve caused,” Anjali told him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You did the right thing. So, even if it is Asmodeus, this isn’t revenge. This is an attack, David. And I intend to put an end to it.”
God I love it when women
the picture I WILL SOB DO NOT DO THIS TO ME
Them :((
“Why do people call me baby boy or baby girl?” David wondered out loud.
AJHSHUIDC JACE
petition to only call david baby boy or baby girl from now on
I've been watching The Crown (it took me three days to get through episode 1 but let's not talk about that) so I am literally hearing all the dialogues in with an english accent. It's...something
Some people drank alcohol to relax. David drank tea.
Bitch same.
I've lately fallen in love with Earl Gray. I drink it while I'm studying. I sit down at my desk with my tea and only then do I get to work. Helps me focus and keep my anxiety at bay. Good shit.
same energy as me realising how quickly I had been going through my tea. I...I've been way too stressed lately too, hon. NOT THIS WEEKEND THOUGH HHAHA
he would love a cake <3
oh to have someone buy me overpriced magic chocolate
DARK?? HUH
prince...?
WJAT IS HAPPENING WOMAN EXPLAIN
that's so romantic though 🥺
LEVI?? TIS YOU??
in my relating a bit too much to david era kjkcuhud
Bitch I know you're stressed as fuck so like?? TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF?? Srsly, shit's really hard rn for you and it's gonna get harder. Take a nap or something
“Mon ange,” David chuckled and pointed at the screen. “He went back in time and is literally trying to sleep with his own mother.”
I AM SORRY, WHO IS DOING WHAT NOW
NOT NOW! FUCK NO!
not the ICE CREAM
also yeeeeeeeeeee camilaaaaaaaaaa
david and anjali wedding CRYING SOBBING SHAKING LOOK AT THEM
that's a really long proposal dude you're not writing an essay
“My fave power couple is getting hitched. Do it soon!”
Live footage of me
omg the talk with the parents huduifuifugiugf
I love rafe so muvh omg
anjali truly the best person out there
THEM OH MY GOD THEM
I am so soft rn no one talk to me
Marry me. Marry me. Marry me.
SOBBING
they're so amazing I could cry
how bout I punch Kingsley
Oooo marcus
marcus is kinda cool though. I'll probably not like him by the end of this but still
what...what is he working on
what the fuck you on dude?
i love camila so much
damn girl!!
oh marcus...Yeah I remember now what he was doing...
ah yes, the seashell
cool motives but like...that's not gonna happen
we don't live in a perfect world bud. exploitation and prejudice are the first two words that come to my mind when I think of his thoughts becoming a reality.
He didn’t like it when Mallory was in a bad mood. He wanted her to be happy.
Mal in a bad book ends horribly for every person she has ever interacted with
DON'T SMOKE
I was watching The Crown and George is LIKE SICK AS FUCK MAN IS DYING LEAVING BEHIND A DAUGHTER NOT PREPARED FOR THE CROWN JUST YET AND HE'S SMOKING. Sir you just went through a surgery to remove one of your lungs?? you have cancer?? You're coughing up blood?? AND YOU'RE SMOKING!!!
"I know," she smiled at him. "My destiny is Max."
Oh no...I will stab :)
“I’ll ask Jeff to ready the jet,” he smiled at her.
The...what...that is so bad for the environment dude I'm pretty sure there is a beach in New York...I forgot how rich they were for a second there...Taylor swift core
Sometimes...you just wanna get stabby with someone...the someone is two someones...
If they do something to Anjali...
Sigh
AYY IT'S SELENA AND GIGI
AND LEXI
lexi...I love you so much but please...just talk to liv about this
YOU CAN'T DO SHIT LIKE THIS OH MY GOD
lexi YOU CAN FUCKING FLY
I will repeat advice I gave in part 2 (?). Fly there, tell her, fly away.
:)
gabriel and selena >>>>
“Relationship drama waits for no one,” Selena huffed. “Besides, stop making excuses, Lex. Just do it.”
putting off stuff like this makes it so SO much worse lex.
LIV AND LEX ARE SO AMAZING
OH I HAVE A STORY
We threw a farewell for someone right? and that day my friends and I were all sitting together and one of us had a permanant marker so like rational people, we wrote on our hands. I wasn't sure what to write but then I remembered seeing an anon say that their shipname should be lixi so that is what ended up going on the place underneath my thumb. You know where you can feel the bone? I wrote "Lixi" right there. Nice day that was.
which reminds me I need to make plans for my birthday next week with my friends-
ANYWAY
No amount of biceps or boobs will distract her today.
me to me every morning
and I love you guys <33
The man went to Idris to talk to the Inquisitor.
Good luck and god bless!
SCREAMING
Lexi stared at the numbers. It gave her a fucking headache
Me in maths everyday.
My math test went so well today I got everything right EXCEPT MY DUMBASS FORGOT TO SOLVE THE LAST PART OF THE LAST QUESTION I HAD THE TIME I SIMPLY DID NOT REMEMBER TO SOLVE IT FURTHER I WILL THROW MYSELF FROM A CLIFF
ahem
“Wait,” Lexi said. “Are you saying these are not demon attacks?”
Imma get the knives
Lexi was going to help Gabriel figure this out. She was going to find out who was hurting her brother like this.
Hurting him with paperwork!
And she was going to kick their ass!
AHHUKDCUIFV HELL YEAH LEX
lots of blob thingies
“Have you guys seen shadow demons? They’re the demons of Lucifer.”
foreshadowing
I am sorry they materialized WHERE
grabriel is so cool omg
THE SONG CHOICE YES
She was talking about some issue with the warlocks in LA not being able to use magic
foreshadowing
lexi NO METAPHORS PLEASE
Lex I told you not to go with metaphors...sigh
this is really entertaining though.
LMAOO LEXI PLEASE-
Oh. OH DISCOVERY
Shit. white...who's magic is white?
FUCKING HELL
and on this note a very good night I can't wait to sleep. LOVE YOU!
Evieeeee. I missed your live blogs so much 😭😭😭
Here is a meme that perfectly captures my reaction to it
I like the live blog too akskskssm but the random gossip 😍😍😍
Your Lexi energy is unmatched 😎
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A letter to my Bean
I miss you. When you are away, for the first couple hours, I feel light. Light in the same way someone feels light and excited when they go on a vacation. But after the first, second, and third hour, I quickly turn into a sickly middle-aged victorian woman who has traveled to the ocean to gasp her last clear breath. I desperately want to hear your pacing. I want to smell the coffee on you. I want to hear you laugh from the couch. This feeling solidifies that you are the home my heart returns to. I have a temper, I feel angry over the silliest of things, but you continue to wrangle me down. I become the most tempered of chocolate when I am with you. I feel warm and sweet, and sometimes I am something that uncomfortably sticks to the back of your throat and annoys you. But, nevertheless, I love you. You have only been away for a couple of hours but the joy I will feel when you get home will light up my whole body. Like a dog waiting for its owner. Like a cat, sees the handheld laser.
I know that you don't think I find you handsome sometimes. I understand that urge. I live in a body changed by time and circumstance. I no longer feel or look like the girl I was when I was 16. But you, I see pictures of you from when you were 16 and I think "I would've been the happiest and luckiest person if I had met him then". Would I have recognized that then at 16? Probably not. I was scared, quiet, and emotionally held myself for many of those years. But I think that 16-year-old Dash, like 19-year-old Dash, like 22-year-old Dash, has the clearest Kaleidoscope eyes. He has a nose that is easiest to kiss in the dark. His mustache tickles my lips. His whole face scrunches up when he laughs. That was one of the first things I noticed about you. Your joy takes over your whole body. But your pain rarely does. Your arms are soft but firm. They can squeeze me with a massive force but can also touch me with the kindest delicacy. Your body wraps around mine perfectly. I live for the nights I get to snuggle into your armpit and breath in your scent. Your feet are always finding my belly on the couch and live to prod and poke at me when you are playing chess and other games on your computer.
Your whole body was made to love and be loved by someone. I am grateful enough to be that someone, especially in my most stubborn moments. My face stings with the devotion I feel for you. You are the wisest, kindest, most gentle giant. I am the warrior and you are the protector. I feel hot and righteous anger which can make me unstoppable in the small sliver of just right circumstances. You stay level-headed and quiet. Focusing on the object of protection with a stubborn kindness that ignores the object of attack. I love you for the huge heart you have and the ability to cut off those unworthy of it with sound logic. I don't have that same skill.
This is all to say, you have been gone for four and a half hours now and I miss you. I wish I could be with you always. I wish I could ride around in your pocket and hold your hand whenever things are unpleasant. I love you fiercely and with the warmest parts of my soul. You are my person, and I could not be any more grateful for the good fortune that has befallen me in this lifetime in meeting you. I hope I get to come home to you for as long as you will let me.
I think I could die loving you.
Note: Ahahaah why do I sound so fancy writing this. Like an old person. LOL. I just love you. That's it. It's pretty simple actually. I was just trying to translate the most massive positive emotions I feel when I see you. Idk if I'll show you this because it's embarrassing but thanks for letting me hang out with you bestie <3
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Secret Santa Re-Do's | BAU as Family/ Moreid
Prompt: From @jasperandgemma Idk if you meant something like this, but here's my prompt for, or about Garcia (or anyone else you feel more comfortable writing) - "You got them a what??!" for secret santa? (I didn't really do this with Garcia as the main, but she does feature in it!)
Summary: Derek knows he did a bad job at getting a present for Spencer at last years Secret Santa, and now he's determined to make it right.
Pairings: Moried, BAU as Family!
Genre: Christmas, fluff!
Warnings: none!
Word Count: 868 (my first under 1k fic!)
A/N: This is my first Moreid/BAU family piece, so please let me know if you like it!
PLEASE INTERACT FOR MORE CRIMINAL MINDS FICS!
It's early on a Thursday morning when Derek steps into Penelope's office, nearly blinded by the bright Christmas lights the woman has strung up around her little space, and for a moment Derek can only wonder how Hotch allowed Penelope to turn her FBI tech office into a miniature of a lights show.
"Come in and speak, whoever is standing in my doorway." Penelope was facing her various computer screens, long nails tapping away at keys, and that was when Derek remembered why he was here in the first place.
"Relax, baby girl, it's just me." He moved closer, and sat a take out cup of coffee on her desk, far away from her tech (he doesn't want to lose his coffee like Elle did last week). Penelope looks up at him as she takes the cup in hand, sniffing at the small opening before grinning widely.
"Derek Morgan, did you by chance get my favourite caramel mocha hot chocolate with soy milk and whipped cream?" All Derek could do was nod as Penelope finally sipped her drink and hummed happily. "You know how to make a woman feel loved, chocolate thunder. Now shoot, what do you need."
"I need present suggestions for Spencer. I know with the whole Secret Santa thing we're not supposed to tell each other who we've got, but I don't know what to get him, and I know my gift to him last year was a total bust." Derek took a seat beside the blonde woman and crossed his arms in front of his chest as Penelope opened up a new browser tab on her computer.
"And remind me, since I wasn't part of the team last year, what did you get our dear genius?" And this is where Derek faulted because he knew the exact reaction he was going to get as soon as he gave Penelope an answer.
“I uh, I got him some special addition baseball cards from 1990 and-.”
"You got him a what??!" Penelope’s voice shrieked through the office space, and all Derek could do was bury his head in his hands and let out a loud groan. “ What do you mean you got him baseball cards, Derek? You know Spencer has no interest in sports, what made you think that was a good idea?”
“I got confused, okay? Christmas was only two or three months after he joined the team, and we were talking about baseball one day because I’d just watched it on tv the night before, and he started spewing all these facts and statistics about it, so I assumed that he liked baseball because he knew so much about it…not that he just knew everything about it because he sucks up information like a vacuum.”
“Oh honey, well, at least you tried…” Penelope sighed and patted Derek on the shoulder. She could see he wanted to do better, to give his best friend a better gift and one he’d actually enjoy and appreciate. And so, Penelope was going to do everything within her power to help him find one.
It was two days before Christmas when the team sat down together in the conference room, Elle, Hotch, Gideon, JJ, Garcia, Derek and Spencer all sat around the round table with plates of food on it and small bits of alcohol in their systems. It was officially the first day of their winter break, and of course, Hotch knew he couldn’t say no to anyone enjoying some beer or even whiskey on this wintery evening.
Some presents had already been exchanged, a new ceramic mug from Spencer to Penelope that had her squealing out of joy and hugging the genius to her, a nice scarf from Hotch to JJ, in the dark orange she’s always liked, and finally, it was Derek’s turn to give his present to Spencer, a moment he could only dread.
He handed the thick package to the younger man, looking away when Spencer thanked him apprehensively, probably remembering the baseball card debacle of 2003 once again. But when he carefully tore open the paper to reveal a very weathered hardback book, Spencer’s eyes lit up, and went wide as he turned it over slowly in his hands.
“You…you got me an original copy of The Odyssey, in Latin…Derek I…”
“Don’t worry pretty boy, no need to thank me. Merry Christmas kid, I hope this makes up for the baseball cards last year.” And that’s when Spencer hugged Derek, grabbed hold of him and held onto him so tightly in a way that shocked Derek and the rest of the room, and the older man could hear Spencer muttering quiet thank yous against his shirt, and in that moment, Derek knew he did well.
Neither of them talks about it afterwards, and no one mentions the enormous smile that stays on Spencer’s face the rest of the day, but a couple of months later, when Derek is stepping into Spencer’s apartment for a movie night with some of the team, the book is there, perched delicately on display on Spencer’s shelf, and Derek can’t help but smile.
That was Spencer’s favourite Christmas gift, and it was all thanks to Derek (and Penelope).
PLEASE INTERACT FOR MORE CRIMINAL MINDS FICS!
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#will writes!#moried#criminal minds#derek morgan#spencer reid#bau as family#penelope garcia#criminal minds fic#derek morgan x spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds blurb#moreid fic#moreid fanfiction#will's 2021 festive collection
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Oh god please, more cheating and angst (hoodie? Tim? 👀👀👀) Idk u just write it so good and my aching heart feels better oddly because of it. I fuckn love angst djsjsjjdjdjd
Full Moon and Being A Horrible Person
[Masky X F!Reader]
[Warnings: language, physical cheating]
[AN: i love angst too]
The full moon makes us do weird things, it’s been well documented. From the people bouncing off the walls to inducing labor, all the way to making us make questionable decisions, the full moon is to blame, not him.
It was a full moon when he caught the eyes of a woman with dark, sweet chocolate colored eyes. She looked so beautiful under the lights of the bar, yellow illuminating her skin like it was gold.
She’d been flirting with him across the bar the entire night. Wry smiles, tapping her fingernails against the glass, twirling her dark hair and giggling when he caught her eyes and by extension, her attention.
“You know Reader isn’t gonna be happy with your behavior,” Hoodie had lightly chided him before downing more of his beer. “Why don’t you let me take over? I haven’t-”
“No,” Tim laughed, pushing at his best friend’s shoulder. “It’s harmless flirting,” he finished, watching Hoodie’s expression from the corner of his eye.
“If Reader was doing this, would you consider it harmless flirting?”
Kate excused herself from her conversation with one of the ladies from the booth behind the table she and her group shared, then turned her attention to her group leader. “He has a point,” she said, grinning when Hoodie leaned over the table to high-five her.
Tim rolled his eyes and began to lazily swish his drink. “It’s nothing, I promise.”
“You mean to say you haven’t emptied your balls in a few weeks and you’re desperate,” Hoodie deadpans, breaking his blank expression when Kate loudly laughs.
“Again, he has a point,” Kate smirked. “C’mon, let Hoodie or Toby take this one. Neither of them are in relationships and are less likely to get attached.”
Tim raises a brow at Kate. “Attached? What does that mean?”
Hoodie shares a look with the woman across from him who nods at him to explain what exactly she means. “She uh,” Hoodie awkwardly sips at his beer before biting the bullet completely. “C’mon man, you have an addictive personality. Pills, cigarettes, Reader…” He trails off before Tim hisses and punches Hoodie’s shoulder, roughly. Hoodie only barks a laugh and raises his hand up in submission. “I’m right, I’m always right!” He manages to choke out through remaining giggles.
“Can we just drop it for now?” Tim growls.
Kate rolls her eyes and then pulls a face to Hoodie, who stifles his laughter just barely before she turns back to her conversation with the ladies from the booth behind her. She’s up and out of her seat following a group of them to the other side of the bar, giggling and laughing as a woman with short pink hair holds her hand and weaves her through the crowds.
Hoodie feigns innocence before standing up. “I’m gonna find Tobes, who knows what he’s doing. Tearing up the dance floor, maybe?”
Tim watches as his best friend shuffles out from his seat, beer still in hand as he disappears into the sea of people. He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. His dark eyes scan the bustling room full of bright, rainbow colored strobe lights and too loud music only to catch a glimpse of the full moon outside. It’s tinged pink, and seems to blossom the longer he looks at it. Due to where they’re currently at in the city, he can’t see the stars - much too much light pollution. A sigh is about to escape his lips when he feels a hand brushing over his, pulling him from the light of the full moon and onto the woman he’d been flirting quietly with all night.
“Never thought I’d get you alone,” she says, voice sweet like honey and smoother than silk.
Tim thinks about his words, his group’s chiding before mentally shrugging off all responsibilities. “I know, right?” He replies, voice low and deep, something charming and sweet.
She grins like the Cheshire Cat before playfully biting her lip. “I’m just passing through here,” she begins, “maybe we could… Have a few more drinks then head back to my hotel room?”
Tim feels a slight blush come to his cheeks before swallowing it back down. He smirks, leaning into her presence. “I’d love nothing more.”
The two of them knock back a few more drinks, the woman mostly choosing fruity things and Tim sticking to whiskey. Their touches become more and more bold, and their words more lusty and obscene by the moment. He has her sit on his lap and he whispers all the nasty things he wants to do to her and she gobbles it up, giggles and soft licks to the shell of his ear driving him up a wall.
And then, he follows her to her hotel. It’s a tangle of lips smashing against lips, hearts beating in sync and hands grabbing in the most inappropriate of places. Her clothes lie on the floor before getting covered up by his, her body following in suit.
Tim takes her. He drinks her in full and has her seeing the stars that were once only gazed upon by you. He touches her in ways you’ve never been touched and allows her to touch him in ways he’d always claimed were ‘too much’ for him.
When the deed is done, he’s cuddling her much like he would cuddle you, cigarette in his mouth and bliss on his face.
Tim stayed the night.
The next morning, he’s so groggy that he doesn’t even realize he’s still got her lipstick stains on his skin. He gets back in his car (failing to realize his group had to either walk back to the temp or hitch with someone else), and heads back to the only true home he’d ever considered.
It’s a few hours to your place, but he makes it, and that’s all that matters. Your car isn’t in the driveway, so he lets himself in. A quiet stumble to the bathroom and he sees he looks like a mess. The weight of what he did to you begins to sink in.
Tim turns the shower on and strips off his clothing - the clothes still linger with her perfume before he hops in and begins to furiously scrub at his skin. Tears well in his eyes. How could he do that to you? What kind of common sense was he lacking in that moment?
He continues to scrub, slowly coming to the realization that he’s going to do whatever it takes to hide this from you - you can never know. It was the light of the full moon, people always act crazy when the moon is in that phase, and he was drunk, like really drunk.
Excuses, excuses.
The water stops right when he hears the front door open. He hears your voice. You’re greeting him sweetly, like you always do.
He takes in a deep breath. You can never know.
It was only inevitable that you’d find out, though he’s surprised you went as long as you did without knowing. Tim hid it from you for months, and he probably could’ve kept it longer if he didn’t come with you to Target when you asked. You’d always been a fan of late night store runs, and he hadn’t gone on one with you in a while… What harm could it possibly do?
A lot. A lot of harm that surfaced the truth.
“I should’ve cuffed you when I had a chance!” The woman giggled as she came up beside you as you looked at the early Halloween decorations.
You raised a brow. “Excuse me?” You looked over to your boyfriend, whose face had gone pale. “I think you have the wrong…”
“You’re a lucky girl, y’know that?” She continued, brushing off your words. “He took me to the moon.” Her voice was so sultry and decadent. “Hope he takes you to the moon as well,” she says, her fingers trailing Tim’s arm.
He pulls away from her. “W...Who are you?” He says, attempting to sound confused.
The woman pulls a face before looking in between the two of you, her dark eyes glancing and putting together the pieces. Instead of being embarrassed or ashamed, she chuckles and begins to take off again. “I did you a favor, honey,” she calls over her shoulder, hips swaying as she turns down another aisle.
You don’t want to admit it, but now you know why Tim’s been so weird lately and nicer than usual. Sure, Tim is a sweet guy, but his behavior the past few months has been OVERLY nice, and now you know why. “What was that?” You ask, eyes narrowing and tears welling.
“Nothing, let’s just pay and get out-”
“I wanna go home.”
Tim moves to rest his hand on your shoulder, but you recoil as if you’d been burned.
A huge argument ensued when the two of you got back into the car, lots of harsh words were traded. He tried reasoning with you, he tried telling you how much he loved you, he tried everything in his power but he’d ruined a good thing.
You ended up pulling over on the side of the road, slamming the breaks, tears in your eyes and turned to him. “Give me the key to my house.”
“What? No-”
“Give. Me. The. Key. Tim,” you hiss, punctuating every word with stronger venom. You held your hand out.
Tim sighs deeply and reaches into his pocket, pinching the bridge of his nose as you harshly snatch the key from his awaiting hand. “It’s not like that, you know I love you-”
“Is that what you’re calling it? Cheating on me and then lying about it for months?” You rhetorically ask, growling and seething further and further. You feel rage wracking your system as it exhausts you further and further. You can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, because if you do, you’ll melt.
“I’m telling you, it was to protect you,” he attempts again. “Let’s just, let’s just go home and-”
“Get the fuck out of my car,” you say, drawing in every remaining and residual strength you have as hot tears scald your cheeks.
“You don’t mean that-”
“I do.”
“Reader, baby please-”
“Get the fuck out of my car,” you repeat. You squeeze your eyes shut, shake your head and then turn back to the road. “Do it before I do something stupid.”
Tim feels his heart shatter, cracking on impact as it falls deeper and deeper. He shakily runs his fingers through his hair before sliding out of your car, slamming the door shut and watches as you drive off and out of his life. He wants to scream, or cry, maybe both at the same time? He’s not entirely sure yet. He just knows his world is crashing down and there’s nothing he can do about it.
He betrayed your trust and broke your heart all for one singular night of passion.
The emotionally distraught man looks up at the moon, finding no solace that it��s full again.
#masky#masky x reader#masky scenario#masky creepypasta#tim wright#tim wright x reader#tim wright headcanon#masky headcanon#tim wright marble hornets#marble hornets#marble hornets x reader#marble hornets headcanon#marble hornets scenario#creepypasta#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta scenario#angst#hoodie#kate the chaser#ticci toby
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Bravado // Tommy Shelby Imagine
(A/N - its been a long ass time and i wanted to ease myself back into writing but this ended up being long and also super super angsty. sorry that this illness imagine came during covid idk whats going on with my imagination lol. love you guys SO much thank you for always being there. reblogs, comments and likes mean everything to me.)
trigger warnings - LOTS of angst. fluff. implied smut. my hc that tommy has a fear of illness, bad descriptions of hospitals.
He knew something wasn’t right the minute his car pulled into the driveway and you weren’t waiting for him under the great concrete arch, with that smile on your face that made his knees buckle and heart race like he was a love struck teenager.
You were always there as soon as he came home. Barefoot in a broderie dress in the summer with tousled hair and baby pink toenails. Wrapped in a hand knit blanket with fire flushed cheeks and woollen socks in the winter - even running across the gravel and into his arms in the middle of a storm, the ice cold rain whipping across both of your faces as you kissed under the light of the moon.
No matter how shit his day or week or month was, no matter what stained his hands or darkened his heart, no matter what lay heavy and hard deep in his gut, seeing you made everything vanish in the night air like wisps of smoke. You made everything worth it.
He refused to give into fear, he wasn’t that kind of man, so he swallowed all of the nagging thoughts and apprehensions as he came up to the dark foggy windows and the iron cast door. It felt strange turning his key in the lock without the weight of you in his arms or the sticky peach kisses you left down his jaw and neck, the smell of the vanilla in your hair and lavender on your skin.
The second thing that sent a jolt of white hot electricity down his spine was Mary, watching him anxiously and wringing her hands in the hallway. Usually, she was calm and collected, taking his jacket and leather travel bag with her signature placid smile and gentle fingers. Usually she would return to the kitchen and finish up whatever she was making - a hearty roast lamb with rosemary and garlic and glazed potatoes or a pheasant pie with honeyed carrots, always followed by a three layer chocolate ganache cake that was so thick and rich you practically had to saw through the sponge. She would always have dinner piping hot and dripping with gravy by the time the two of you returned downstairs, no matter how many hours it took for you to get... reacquainted.
Now she looked sheepish and pale, her skin almost translucent under the syrupy yellow lights. There was something about the way she stood, as still as a wraith, that made his blood run cold.
“Mary. Where is she?”
“Mr Shelby, I - ” Her voice was strained and hesitant, like a slowly fraying rope.
“Where is my wife?”
She moved forward, creases forming around her eyes. “We tried ringing you in Liverpool but the hotel said that you had already left, so we...”
“You rang me? Why? What’s happened?” He couldn’t hold back the desperation in his voice, and it lingered and festered around them both like a poisonous gas.
“Mrs Shelby came down with something a few days ago, we thought that it was just a common cold but unfortunately she seems to be getting worse.”
He tore upstairs before he could even think, his shoes leaving perfect muddy footprints on the cream carpet. He almost slipped at the top, and he lurched forward, his hands reaching out and holding onto the portrait hanging above the stairs for stability.
It was the oil of the two of you. A soft, personal picture that revealed more than he ever possibly could. The love in your gazes, the hint of a soft, drunk smile on the dangerous gangsters face as you leaned into him, melting into him like butter, him holding onto you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. It was his favourite photo, one that always washed a sense of calmness over him, a reminder of the woman that he loved and the way he felt around you. But now he felt as if was riding out a terrible storm.
He lived his life with no fear, he was capable and practical and used to the sound of bullets and the copper sweet smell of blood. There was really only one thing, one terrible thing that he couldn’t control, and that was what drove him crazy.
Sickness.
It gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog, clawed under his skin and settled behind his ribs. Losing someone he loved was like ripping out a piece of his heart straight from his chest, and he knew better than anyone what it was like to lose somebody to a violent, quick death - the pull of a trigger or the smack of a fist. At least in those moments he could lock them away in his mind, he could leap in front of a bullet or crack the neck of any man who dared to get too close to you, but there was almost nothing he could do to stop sickness, and the devastation it caused.
When you first met him it had been a surprise, almost amusing, that this powerful God of a man had these small little quirks. His house was always sparkling clean and smelling of Lysol, his fruit bowls were filled with citrus fruits and round, plump blueberries. He always made sure you were wrapped up warm in the winter, always placing his coat around your shoulders and bringing an extra pair of gloves in case you forgot yours. It was adorable, the way he took care of you,
It wasn’t till a little bit later when you learnt of those he had lost. His mother and his childhood sweetheart taken away from him much too soon. It broke your heart when he told you late one night of the sallow tint of their skin and the way he could almost see them vanishing from earth, the way that illness had moulded and changed those he loved the most.
You understood.
Your best friends older sister had died of tuberculosis when you were young. The elderly woman across the street from your first flat had passed away from a bout of horrendous smallpox. Your brother lost his first child to pneumonia. Times were changing but the fear of disease was ever present. Medicine was improving and so was knowledge, but still there remained a huge, dark cloud of what could happen, one that always hung around your husbands head.
——————————————-
All Tommy could think was the worst as he ran through the landing. His heart was in his ears and his bones felt loose, like the sweet liquorice the two of you would share at the pictures. He came to a stop by the bedroom door, tentatively pressing his palm onto the wood and ever so slightly pushing it open, listening to the gentle creak it made.
The room was warm. The lace curtains were pulled shut, and your favourite lavender candles were flickering on your vanity, casting syrupy shadows against the wall. He exhaled loudly as he saw you, bundled up under a mountain of satin sheets and hand crocheted blankets, your hair splayed across the pillows.
He moved to your bedside, pretending not to notice the large, untouched jug of water and the tissue box next to you, hoping and silently praying that you weren’t sick - just asleep and waiting for him, ready to wrap your arms around his neck.
You were silent, your lips parting every so often as you breathed, your chest rising and falling. He reached out gently, as though he was picking up shards of glass, and brushed his fingers against your cheek. Your forehead was beading with sweat, your cheeks flushed, and yet your skin was ice cold to the touch. He recoiled quickly, his heart dropping like a weight into his gut, and he inhaled a shaky, deep breath.
He saw something curled up beside your hands, a fluffy white cloud with sparkling emerald green eyes trained on him. Despite everything, he smiled. He thought of your birthday - of strawberry cheesecake and champagne, and surprising you with a ribbon wrapped little kitten as you woke up. He thought of that day often. How you smiled and leapt onto him with tears in your eyes, his whole world blissfully quiet as he spent the day in bed with you and your new best friend.
He would have preferred a big dog, one with sharp teeth and a menacing gaze to ward of visitors whilst he was away. But you were drawn to the tiny, malnourished runt of the litter who was scared of his own shadow. A kitten no bigger than the size of his clenched fist. A little white hairball who only ate and drank from fine pink saucers. A cat that had a very frustrating habit of crawling in the bedroom right as Tommy’s hand was up your skirt and his lips on the sweet spot of your neck, the tiny thing mewling and crying until you picked him up and nuzzled him into your chest.
He was a horse lover through and through, and never saw himself having time for any other pets. But in the summer when you saw the litter from one of John’s barn cats and fell in love with the sweet baby who mewled and cried and crawled right into your lap - he knew that he would give you anything and everything you wanted.
Including a cat who refused to accept that Tommy was the man of the house.
“Hello, boy.” He said, leaning over to scratch Comet under the chin, using a voice he only reserved for the two of you. “Have you been looking after my girl whilst I’ve been gone?”The cat meowed loudly in reply, pressing his head into Tommy’s palm but not moving from his spot beside you.
Tommy suddenly felt you shift under him and his heart lurched into his throat. He turned to face you, cupping the side of your clammy face as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking under the candlelight. A rush of red hot heat built up in his belly as you registered him, that angelic smile growing on your face, your tired eyes glimmering with recognition of the man you loved.
“Tommy?”
“Hi, Princess.”
You smiled sadly. “You’ve been gone for weeks - I missed you.”
He felt his brows crease as he rubbed along your jawline softly, trying to stop you from falling back asleep. He felt panic in his throat as sour as vomit, and he tried to bite back the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.
“No, sweetheart, I’m early. It’s only Thursday. I left on Monday.”
“Oh.” You said softly, your voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees outside. “Well let me welcome you back properly - let me make you a lemon drizzle or a...” You lifted your head from the pillow and shuffled under your blanket, but he pressed his hands against your shoulder and held you down.
“No. You’re staying right here.”
“But - ”
“No.”
“Hmm. Don’t leave me, Tommy.”
“Never.” He said, his tone firm and cast like stone. He stroked your hair softly as your breathing slowed, but it didn’t nothing to quell the hard thump of his heart in his chest.
——————————-
Tommy left the room as quietly as he could after you had fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to move, not when you were pressed against his chest, looking ethereal but vacant, sweat beading under your brow and your face lacking colour. He wanted to stay with you, curled up by his side, his fingers laced through yours, the sound of your heart thumping in his ears.
But he was a man of action, and seeing you there - your lips cracked and dry, shudders passing through your body and goosebumps raised over your skin - he couldn’t fight the fiery urge to do everything in his power to make you feel alright again.
He found Mary waiting outside the door, chewing on the skin of her lips and swaying on the balls of her feet in anticipation. He grabbed her by the arm, harder than he meant to and something he would apologise for later, and pulled her downstairs, determined to let you rest whilst he got some answers. As soon as they reached the drawing room he spun her around, clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at the anxious maid.
“Where the fuck is the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”
“Mr Shelby.” She said, stepping forward calmly. “We phoned Doctor Moore and he came on Tuesday to see her.”
“Tuesday?” He seethed. “My wife has been ill since Tuesday and no one called me?”
Mary raised her hands in defeat, making it clear that the decision wasn’t hers to make. “He said it was nothing of concern . He gave her some antibiotics and told her to rest. She asked us herself not to call you, she knows how you.. worry.”
He ignored her sugar coated attempt to quell his anger, but if anything it made his vision darken. “When it’s my wife, It is always my concern.”
“Mr Shelby, we were just doing what we were told. As soon as we noticed she wasn’t getting better we phoned the surgery again, but Doctor Thomas was out for the day and said he didn’t think it was necessary to come round again, so we -”
“I don’t give a fuck. My wife is the number one priority. Ring every doctor in England if you have to, get somebody out here now to see my wife.”
He stormed away, anger pulsating through his veins, but he stopped suddenly, and threw out over his shoulder:
“And call Doctor Moore’s ’office. Tell him to expect a visit from the blinders soon.”
———————————————————
Once, when you were first dating, you found Tommy at the door to your flat at midnight, with scraped knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. You let him in, cleaned him up and sat with him in the bath until his skin was clear and his breathing was even. He knew that night, as you were pressed against his chest and his lips were pressed to your scalp that he was truly, madly and completely in love with you.
He remembered waking up the next morning, love drunk and blissful, and finding the bed beside him empty. He found you in the kitchen, wincing slightly and pressing a hot water bottle to your belly as you buttered a few pieces of toast. He rushed to your side with eyes as wide as saucers, concern lacing the features that were usually ice cold and hard as stone. You were completely baffled as he held you at arms length, his bright cerulean eyes trailing up and down your body for any signs of injury he might have missed. You were bewildered at the sight of the powerful man practically on his knees as he made sure you were alright, and you bit back a giggle as his warm palms spread over your abdomen.
“What is it? Whats wrong?”
“Tommy. Sweetheart.” You said softly, bringing his gaze level to yours. “It’s just - you know - that time of the month.”
He brushed off your embarrassment and ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead, sending a swarm of butterflies around the pain in your stomach.
“Do you need anything?” He asked, half ready to run down to the corner shop and buy any amount of painkillers or chocolate bars or your favourite lavender tea that you might need; not caring who saw the seemingly terrifying gang leader in the street with an armful of strawberry laces and salt water fudges.
You smiled like the summer sun and he melted, pulling you close as you whispered in the shell of his ear that you only needed him, and that was all you ever needed.
That was the first time you fully saw the extent of Tommy’s fear, but it definitely wasn’t the last. He knew he wanted you forever and always, and it took only six months of neck kisses and pillow talk, red hot jealousy and possessive hands across your skin and dancing in the rain and falling asleep under the pale yellow moon for him to put a ring on your finger. You were both consumed by your love, as though it was the only thing that mattered, it was insatiable and powerful - the wonderful mix of the devil and his sweet little angel.
And with that, came the good and the bad.
Like when you got food poisoning after Arthur cooked you a Sunday lunch to cheer you up whilst Tommy was gone. He came home to you retching over the toilet bowl with Mary holding back your hair, and swore that he would kill his brother with his own hands. Or when you slipped on ice and broke your arm while out with friends in London, and Tommy went ballistic and tried to ban you from ever leaving the house. It was just in his nature, how he always made sure you walked on the side furthest from the road, kept an arm slung around you whenever you were together, kept his eyes alert and vigilant no matter where you were - always looking out for his girl.
But he had never been like this.
———————————————————-
You were falling in and out of sleep. Waking up drowsy and heavy headed, squinting under bright lights, an ache in your skull and a burning in your throat. Every so often you felt a pinch in your upper arm, a squeeze on your palm, a kiss on your forehead - but you always drifted back into unconsciousness.
You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. The room was dark and you could hear the wind howling and whipping rain across the windows. You felt all too hot and all too cold at the same time, and the bed was damp with sweat. You struggled and tried to sit up, your head swaying and feeling as heavy as one of Tommy’s marble statues; as if you had been carved up and moulded. You could hear voices out in the hall, and unsteadily got to your feet, moving towards the noises.
“Pneumonia?” You heard through the thick wooden door, instantly recognising your husbands voice. “That’s impossible.”
“Sir...”
“Fucking. Impossible.” You knew his teeth were clenched.
The other man cleared his throat.“I know that it’s hard to hear, Mr Shelby, but your wife is very sick.”
“Just...” You felt your heart flutter and clench in your chest as the sound of his broken words, could practically feel his desperation and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. “Just tell me how to make her better.”
The second man spoke again, his voice softening and lowering, something you knew Tommy would hate. “Mr Shelby, the first round of antibiotics didn’t work and that means that it’s time for something stronger. Usually I would suggest the Birmingham hospital but I don’t think it’s equipped for...” He paused, trying to think over his words carefully. He wanted to convey the severity of the situation but also didn’t want to risk getting a bullet in his head from your very protective husband. “...This kind of reaction. I recommend we send her down to London for extra testing.”
“London? That’ll take two fucking hours. How the fuck can you recommend letting my wife travel that far? Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“I’m my opinion this is the wisest choice to make, but unfortunately that could mean your wife might get worse before she gets better.”
“Worse than she already is? That’s not an option.”
The man you assumed was the doctor was insistent, trying his best to portray the severity of the situation but failing as your hardheaded husband had already come to a decision.
“I’ll look after her here. She’s safest with me.”
Once Tommy had spoken that was the final result, and the doctor slinked away into the darkness and shook his head. You remained peering from behind the door, your tongue between your teeth and your heart hammering.
Tommy took one look at you and frowned, scooping you in his arms like a baby despite your protests. He ignored you, acting playfully and cheerful but you could feel his heated skin and the see flare of his nostrils. You wanted to help him but didn’t know how, and let him tuck you under the covers once again. He kissed your crown and stroked your hair and you wanted to speak but no words would leave your mouth.
“You stay there this time. You know I have no problem with tying you to the bed.”
You rolled your eyes as he left, and his clenched fists and tightened shoulders told you all you needed to know.
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Comet watched from his spot beside you as Tommy wrestled with the fire. He had noticed you shivering despite your high temperature, and bundled you up in blankets whilst sparking matches beside the fireplace. There were raindrops across his shoulders, evidence that he had been outside and to the log store right at the end of the property - a job that had always been for the Groundskeeper. Your precious cat nudged the tips of your fingers as you sighed and watched your husband throw kindling onto the coal, a deep unease settling over your gut.
“Tommy, my love, I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly true but you felt he needed to hear it. But you could practically see your words wash over him and evaporate like ocean spray.
He was shaking a metal tin in his palm as he worked, and you groaned and let your head hit the pillow as he pulled out two round chalky tablets. You winced as he placed them beside your glass, your mouth already tasting like the sour talc medicine you had come to loathe. He raised his eyebrows and shot you a look that told you he wasn’t far off plugging your nose with his fingers to force you to swallow, and you childishly stuck up two fingers as you took them.
Your stomach rumbled with nausea and you bit back the bile in your throat as you settled into the pillows. You watched your husband as he pulled off his crisp white shirt, revealing his taut tan stomach and the deep ink tattoos that you loved to trace with your fingertips and your lips. There was something about him standing there, with those damn cerulean eyes and hidden muscles, that boyish hair and slender fingers that you wanted desperately around your throat, that made a million tiny fireworks spark inside of you.
But instead you pushed him away from you despite your body wanting nothing but him wrapped all around you. “Don’t get too close. I might have something contagious. I can’t have you getting sick.”
He ignored you, smiling inwardly at the way you always put others before yourself. It was one of the million reasons he had fallen for you. You were sweating out a high fever and shivering in pain, and yet you always thought of him first. He pressed his lips to your temple and pulled you closer, knowing that skin to skin was a way to bring down a fever - even if it meant he had to restrain himself from tugging off your pretty little white nightgown and whatever frilly things you had on underneath.
“I’m not going anywhere. Fuck it if I catch anything.”
“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who will have to dote on you hand and foot, you big baby.” You teased, pressing yourself into him playfully, finally giving in.
He held you like a child, trying to hard to soften despite the way you felt underneath him. Everything on him was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t help but want to try everything and everything to make you feel better. His hand was pressed against your temple to always try and measure your fever, his other palm across your chest to try and count your heart rate.
He could hear Mary treading across the landing carpet but he ignored his anxious maid, instead letting himself be completely consumed by the only thing that mattered - you.
This was something he had to do by himself. He was the only one who could care for you he reminded himself. And he let the words tumble over and over in his skull until they were all he could hear.
—————————————————————-
You had been asleep for a long time.
Every hour, after pacing the length of the hall and sanitising his hands and wiping the beads of sweat above your brow and above your breasts he woke you up and held a cool glass to your lips. You mumbled and moaned and pushed him away but he kept his fingers across your wrist - harsher than he ever had before - and kept you as close to him as possible.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had cooked. Perhaps it was last valentines when the two of you had camped out under the stars, drinking icy white wine and sharing stolen, day drunk kisses. That night he had roasted a chicken over the fire and it had burnt to a crisp as the two of you rolled around the grass, his head buried in your neck as you giggled at the poultry going up in flames.
He was trying now though, easy, plain substantial meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach. Boiled egg and dippy soldiers. Crackers with smooth cheese. Bubbly water and ginger biscuits. Each time he went upstairs you pushed him away, your whole body shuddering and almost retching, and he felt like smashing the plates against the wall at his defeat.
It had been almost thirty six hours since he had come home and it had been almost as long since you had eaten something, and his heart thundered and shattered in his chest when he found you gasping and wheezing over the toilet bowl when you had taken a bite of toast to calm him. He rarely left you alone, only for a few minutes to put the still full dishes in the sink, to ring Lizzie and tell her that he wouldn’t be coming for reasons that he refused to disclose, to smoke a cigarette under the grey stone archway, his shaking hands and bitten fingernails barely visible through the sleepy rolling fog.
He had grabbed handfuls of papers and the brass ink pen you had got him for your anniversary and broke his own rule - bringing work into your bedroom. It had always been a sacred space. For candlelight and soft laughter, aching hands and heart shaped bruises, a sanctuary for him to breathe and to love and to be loved fully in return. But he was afraid if he didn’t have a distraction, he might just completely lose it, and he had to be there for you.
So he sat squinting in his glasses, the room almost completely dark save for a few candles because of the migraines that had started to spread throughout your skull, and let himself be drawn into the mess of squiggly lines and numbers that suddenly didn’t add up, with you still centre stage in his peripheral.
After about forty minutes of rereading the same sentence a dozen times to try and make some sense of it, he heard your voice, like a small crack spreading across a sheet of ice, coming from the bed.
“Tom?” You sounded so weak, he practically flipped your cream vanity as he got to his feet and darted towards you. “I don’t feel well.”
He lifted you as you reached your arms up at him like a child. He almost gasped at the sweat pouring from your body but didn’t want to scare you, and instead held your shaking, shivering body against his own. How could you be so hot, yet so cold at the same time? Your skin was prickled with goosebumps yet you were burning with a fever, and for the first time in a long time, he had no fucking idea what to do.
He left you propped up against the headboard and he entered the bathroom. He ran over to the claw foot tub you loved, twisting the faucet and trying to find the perfect medium between boiling hot and freezing cold. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, just try and soothe your raging fever, and he ignored the shelves of expensive bath oils and scented soaps that you coveted, instead opting for a handful of something meant to ease tension - praying to whoever was listening that it would help you somehow.
There was a brutal, awful moment as he lifted you from the bed, limp as a rag doll, where he imagined what would happen if your heart were to stop. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to miss the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your skin, the feeling of your lips against him, the shovels stopping and fading into nothing. It hit him square in the chest, as merciless as a bullet, and he had to lean against the doorframe to stop the two of you from plummeting to the ground.
He undressed himself first. Tugging his white shirt off, sliding off his slacks and his underwear, keeping you as close to his chest as he could. Then he pulled your nightgown up and over your head. He gathered your hair and secured it up with a claw clip so that it was away from your face, the heat radiating off your neck as fierce as the fire now burnt down to ash in the bedroom.
He lowered the two of you into the bath, sinking down beneath the eucalyptus smelling lukewarm water, letting it wash over you both. Your teeth were chattering and you were barely awake. He gathered handfuls of water, letting it drip over your shoulders and pulse points, grabbing a washcloth and running it over your raised skin, hating how you barely registered his touch. As he scrubbed over your collarbones and up to your face he saw your lips had turned to an awful, silvery blue, as vibrant as a fresh bruise. He hissed and tugged on the plug, now determined to get you wrapped up in a fresh towel and tucked back into bed.
You were soft and placid and he helped you out, lacking the usual fire that he adored. Your eyes were glassy and missing their vibrance, like the vanishing spark of a lighter - and he felt miles and miles of invisible distance between the two of you. You were unsteady on your feet and he used his body to prop you up as he warmed your arms with a fluffy white towel. You suddenly stopped, lifting your hand to your mouth as you started to cough - a horrible, dry, gasping cough.
He noticed it almost immediately. His eyes darting to the splatter of red against the white, a smudge of crimson that was as loud and commanding as a siren, a warning signal that something was definitely not right. A bead of scarlet that would linger long behind his closed eyelids.
He managed to get you back into bed, remaining calm as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple. He tucked you under the duvet and waited for your breathing to even before he ran downstairs, his heart thumping in his ears as he practically ripped the phone off of the wall.
“Pol? Fuck. I think - I think I need help.”
—————————————————————-
The room smelt like bleach and metal. Unfamiliar and clinical. There was something hard on your chest and covering your mouth, it tasted like wet pennies and was as heavy as a hand over your throat, but for the first time in days you could finally breathe. You tried to sit up, but there was a needle in your chest, a gown you didn’t recognise cut straight down the middle to accommodate it. You struggled and lifted the thin bedsheet above your shivering torso, trying to look around the cold room.
“Careful!”
It was Polly, dressed immaculately despite her surroundings. She reached out and placed a manicured hand across yours, and you smiled at the woman who had always been a calming influence when you had joined the circus of a family. There was concern in her eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner and lifted lashes but still swimming deep around her pupils. That made you frown, and you moved as much as you could to face her.
“What happened?”
She ran her tongue over her teeth, choosing her words. “You gave us quite a fright, love.”
“I did?” Your memories of the past few days were much like a fever dream, blurry and distorted snapshots were all you could really remember.
“Your pneumonia got worse. A lot worse.” She paused, looking over to the door and you followed her gaze. “They found fluid in your lungs.”
“So...” You started, gesturing to the needle in your abdomen and the breathing apparatus around your head.
She nodded. “Yes. You were in surgery. It was touch and go for a little bit.”
“Really?” You were bewildered. You couldn’t remember anything, let alone having major surgery. You looked her straight in the eye, asking her the questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since you had woken up. “Where is he? Where’s Tommy?”
“He’s outside.” She clicked her tongue, reaching deep into her purse and pulling out some hand cream, gently rubbing your dry hands like she was your mother. You leant into her touch despite all of your questions.
“What? Why?”
“I think he blames himself. God knows what goes on in that mans head. All I really know is he was bloody terrified.” She paused, looking over in the distance. “I’ve never seen him so scared, not even on his wedding day.” She smiled sadly, trying to lighten the mood, but it soon faded. “He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were asleep.”
Your heart thumped in your chest, a soft aching that you knew all too well. “I want to see him.”
“I know you do. But right now...” She stopped right as a handful of nurses entered, clad in long blue dresses with white aprons, hair tied back and smelling of strong soap and disinfectant. You lost Polly in the bustle as one spoke softly to you before tugging on the needle right beside your ribs, your eyes just catching hers as she left, a promise to see you soon on her lips.
It wasn’t her you saw next, but Tommy.
The nurses had cleaned you up with wet flannels and bowls of warm soapy water. Your hair had been braided and your face washed, and walked you arm in arm over to the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A skittish doctor followed after, his eyes darting across you and his touch gentle as he changed your dressings and took your blood - obviously under strict instructions from your husband, and despite everything, you smiled.
You were sat listening to the clock tick. A romance novel you had been given was dangling dangerously close to the end of the bed, but you were too tired to focus on it. You heard the door squeal softly, and the sound of familiar footsteps across the tiling, each small thud sending shockwaves across your spine.
“Tommy.”
He looked tired. Exhausted rather, as though he had been awake all the hours that you had been asleep. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow and bruised. His clean shaven face was dark with stubble and his hair was ruffled and unwashed. You longed to reach out to him and cradle him against you, but he stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost.
“Tommy?” You repeated, your voice almost a whisper, breaking his already shattered heart once again.
“How are you feeling, my love?”
You smiled softly, like spun sugar and sweet honey. No hospital bed or itchy gown could dull your infectious light. “Better now.”
He approached you almost cautiously. He settled down on the hard chair beside your bed and stroked a line down from your temple to your lips, his touch setting you alight like an electrical storm. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded you of how he got when things were bad, and you willed him to come back to you. His touch was tentative and he inhaled shakily as you cupped his hand with yours, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of his palm.
“Don’t scare me like that. Ever.” He was stern, as though hoping his words would make it true. “I mean it.” He kept his gaze on your pretty face, trying his best not to stare at the harsh bruising on your delicate flesh or the sickly tone of your skin.
“Tommy I’m going to get sick, even you can’t stop that.” You teased gently.
“I can bloody well try.” His hands cradled your face, pulling you into him and kissing you fiercely, still mindful of the wires and tubes taped to your body. There was something about the tenderness and deep longing in the kiss that when mixed with your total exhaustion and love for your husband prompted tears to start falling from your eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, concern dripping from his beautiful features, his powerful mind wanting to do everything and anything to stop your hurting.
“Hey, hey.” He said, running his calloused fingertips under your eyes and wiping your tears away. You leant into his touch and he kissed your temple, squeezing you even tighter into him. “You know I hate it when you cry.” He toyed with your hair and winked playfully. “Besides, all you need to focus on is getting better. You’re going to have to take care of me when we get home, this week has given me a fucking stroke.”
You rolled your eyes, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re a idiot, Thomas Shelby.” You blinked at the clock looming above you both, wanting to stay in your blissful bubble but also knowing that Aunt Pol would probably be in the vicinity harassing a poor nurse over your results. “You should go and find Polly, let her know that everything’s alright.”
He shook his head and nuzzled his nose across yours, an act so innocent that your heart dipped and swooped in your chest. “Later.” He said, breathless and consumed by you. Everything had been too much. Almost losing you had been harrowing, it had punctured him completely and he just needed to feel his girl safe and warm around him. He needed to know that you weren’t found anywhere.
“I just want to stay here for a while. Just me and you.”
You grinned. “Always.”
#tommy shelby oneshot#tommy shelby imagine#peaky blinders oneshot#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby oneshot
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Heyyy i was wondering when you were going to be putting chapter 2 up
Check-Ups.
Warning, this is a tickle series fic. It also includes swearing. You have been warned.
This series was inspired by @fluffy-lee
Words-2797
Other Tags- @midnightfrost1 @jazzthepizzaz (idk why this isn't working)
Im sorry I didn't get this out sooner. I've had a shit few months and n haven't written in ages, I just lost my writing skills and motivation. But im back. I didn't want to come back until I finished something, and finally, i have. Its midnight and my boyfriend dumped me, whats a better time right-
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You loved the day you met Bruce, Tony, Steve, all of them. That was about three, four months ago though. You and Bruce had finished that single puzzle and learned you were actually rather good at them too, so it became a daily thing for the two of you, along with watching the sunrise or chores or even just staying in the lab together.
You and Bruce had a connection. You adored him, he being the first person you met when you woke up.
You still didn't remember your life, all a long nap until the day. But you didn't mind, something in the back of your head told you you didn't want to know. You'd have nightmares, about a dark place, being trapped and being experimented on, but you'd wake up right before they would inject you, or right before the machine turned on.
Even though you'd met a lot of people, there still seemed to be many more who you still hadn't yet met. Apparently, there were gods, aliens, some Guardians, wizards. At least Tony called them Wizards, Steve would correct him but he'd only roll his eyes and repeat himself.
You loved all of those you'd met so far though. Steve was kind, according to Tony and Bruce, Steve was the one who found you and demanded you be brought back to the compound.
Tony was funny, in a weird, sarcastic way. He'd always give you nicknames and tell you about his inventions when you asked, he loved how invested you were in his work. You found everything so fascinating. And you also met his Fiancé Pepper, who ran Tony's business and was also a wonderful and smart woman. She told funny jokes and made an incredible hot chocolate <3
You'd met a nice lady called Natasha, though she lets you call her Nat. She loves you too, at first she felt strange, but soon loved you so, it didn't take long either, everyone loved you. Clint, you met soon after, he showed you his bow and arrow, and he loved climbing the vents so he promised to show you around someday. Normally though you'd see Tony or Bucky kick a vent and Clint yell from within.
Speaking of, Bucky and Sam. Sam was always so kind, so gentle. But once two of you became close enough, he became like a playful uncle or brother, he loved you but also loved teasing you in a kind way. You weren't close enough for it to be cruel. And Bucky, Bucky was perhaps the one you were most distant with. At first, he scared you, but you also scared him. He was frightened he's hurt you, he'd scare you. But the two of you became closer over time. He'd tell you stories from his time and more. He was also a secret nerd- no joke.
Wanda and Vision were the sweetest, the two treated you with love and care, Wanda loved talking to you while she cooked, telling stories about her parents or brother, or even showing off her powers to you. Vision, he loved how you questioned so much, he loved how your brain would try to figure out how he flew through walls, and then He'd explain it to you, answering every question and smiling the whole time.
Rhodey was awesome too, he loved telling you his stories as war machine, the others didn't care much because they all did it every day, you, however, loved all of their stories, all of their interests and jokes.
There was someone called Eddie, he was really sweet but also sarcastic and funny so you loved him, it was rather scary though the first time you met his parasite, as he called him, Venom. Venom also seemed sweet, after the whole eating thing-
You hadn't met Thor yet, nor his brother Loki, you had seen the photos and videos of New York in 2012 but neither of them frightened you much, Loki seemed mischievous, and you were told Thor was just incredible.
There was one person though who scared you a bit. He was a little looney but you also loved his jokes and found him hilarious. You had a room in the compound now and the two of you were rather close now so he would just climb through the window- or smash it. Or smash the door down. Or wall. Yeah-
"Where's starry?" He asked, sitting at the table eating some breakfast hoops.
"Wade- wade can you please not eat with your mouth open," Sam asked, rolling his eyes and looking away.
"Sure thing Birdy, Hey, I could open it for you if you like?"
"For fucks sake Wade-" same got up and rubbed his temple, but spotting you asking down the hall.
"There you are! Where have you been, its late for you" He asked, looking at you as you entered in a nighty or more like one of Steve's old shirts that were too big for you.
"Tired-" you yawned, stretching our and walking over to the counter to get some breakfast.
"Y/n! Missed you! Where have you been kid? Dozed off" Wade exclaimed, arms wide and excited, also mocking you for sleeping in.
You rolled your eyes.
"I needed to sleep Wade, it was like 2 am-" you said, stretching and grabbing some captain crunch cereal.
"Oh god Wade, let the girl rest," Sam said, chuckling slightly and helping you get the cereal.
"Thank you"
"Yeah yeah, you try while carrying her inside, I'm incredibly lazy" Wade then saved another spoonful in his gob.
"Too true" you answered, muttering under your breath.
"I read that!"
You gave him a look- but didn't bother asking. It was Wade.
"Well Bruce will be looking for you I believe, he's in the lab. You've gotta have your check-up"
"Nah"
Sam gave you a look as you poured your milk, he wasn't sure whether to laugh or not.
" 'Nah' ?"
"I'm gonna go to sleep, I don't like the check-ups" you explained, getting a spoon and sitting down.
"It's okay y/n, it's only a check-up" Sam tried to comfort you, it didn't make you wanna go. But still.
"Well my last check-up did this to me so-" Wade shrugged, pointing at his face.
"Wade- "
"But yeah, the birds right-" Wade patted you on the back while Sam swore at him, "-Don't be afraid, Bruce would never hurt you"
You knew that, and you finished your breakfast knowing so. You hated the checkups because you felt so embarrassed if anything was wrong. You couldn't explain many of the bruises on your body, or cuts, or how you had no memory. It just made you feel useless. The best part would be when Bruce got out a puzzle after for the two of you.
You ran to your room and then began to walk down the halls to find Bruce.
As you walked down the many, many halls, you bumped into Bucky, and apologies frequently because you had knocked his metal arm. You always had a small fear that if you hit it hard enough, it would fly off.
He put his other arm on your shoulder though and smiled. Bucky's smile always made you feel better, he honestly seemed happy, it brought you a strange sense of comfort.
"It's okay y/n"
"Are you sure? I didn't hurt you?
"Yes, I'm sure, are you sure you're not hurt?"
You shook your head, you had been daydreaming so if you had been hurt, you hadn't realized it.
"Where are you going?" Bucky asked, wondering where you were daydreaming off to. You explained that Bruce was needing to do another check-up on you, everyone knew you had one once a month, and you always dreaded it. Bucky then offered if it would help if he joined you.
"Sure, come on!" You said, excitedly grabbing his hand. Bucky did scare you sometimes, sure, but, just as the little puppy you are, you soon forget about your fears and drag him along with you, having much trust in him.
Bucky couldn't help but smile, he loved how you would drag him along to one of your things if he so asked. The two of you had a sweet relationship, strange, but sweet.
The two of you walked the corridors, you repeatedly asked whether his arm was okay and apologized even though he hadn't been harmed, nor could he. It was metal- but he still reassured you either way. You then started to rant about how much you hated the check-ups and that the best part was when Bruce got out the puzzles.
"Sounds fun" Bucky replied, enjoying the emotion and joy in your voice.
The two of you then made it to the lab and saw Bruce working on some experiments. You knocked on the windows as you entered, "Knock, Knock, incoming" Bucky announced, as you let go of his hand and ran over to Bruce, embracing him in a big hug.
"Woah! Woah, hey Y/n, Bucky" Bruce answered, rather surprised to hear Bucky with you but also happy nonetheless. Bruce swiveled round in his chair and smiled at the two of you, "Excited for your check-up" Somehow you had forgotten, don't ask me how or why, it just left your brain for a moment.
You shook your head like a child and ran to hide behind Bucky. "Sorry, y/n's not actually here right now. Bucky will though" The two men laughed at your antics, but Bucky lifted you up and placed you on his shoulders, which you happily accepted until Bruce got up and Bucky began to follow him.
You leaned down beside Bucky's ear and began to whisper talk to him.
"Bucky! If you turn around I'll do anything, this could be a very bad idea!" He began to whisper back, trying to act serious.
"Yeah? What do you think will happen?"
"There might be a monster and I might get eaten!" You whispered, frightened and covering his eyes.
Bucky couldn't help but laugh as you all entered the medic room, he picked you up and placed you on the bed. "Steve was right, you do have an active imagination"
You pouted and realized there was no more point in fighting, they had won. Damn it.
Everything was rather normal, temperature, feelings, thoughts, sight, hearing, searching for any more bruising, though it died down now. Bruce checked your throat, ears, eyes, heart, and even let you use the special thingy to hear Bruce's and Bucky's hearts, pretending to be a doctor for a moment. The only new thing was this weird exercise called palpitations-
"What's that?..." You asked, eery of what Bruce would do. He asked you to lay down on the bed as he explained it all, Bucky leaned on the doorway as moral support, cheering you on.
"I just need to check to see if all your organs are in the right places, Tony asked me to do so, just in case that could be a cause of bruising. You laid down, slightly uncomfortable but you kept remembering what Sam and Wade said, Bruce would never hurt you.
And that was true because he did the quite opposite actually. His hands made contact with a particular place of your midsection that made you jump slightly.
"You okay y/n?"
You nodded, silent as he continued. He pushed down around your ribs, which wasn't as bad. But the moment he would push down on your sides or stomach, you would jump and hold your breath.
Each time Bruce would stop, worried he had hurt you. Bucky too was worried something was wrong.
"Are you sure you're okay y/n? If anything is hurting, you need to tell me" Bruce explained, you didn't say a word, only nodding your head in agreement. Once more, he pressed down, but you jumped at the slightest touch, making him stop again with a concerned expression. At this point, even Bucky was worried something was wrong and came to the foot of the bed to watch over you. Your face was red, and you held your breath for a moment, not making eye contact with anyone.
"Y/n, you need to tell Bruce if anything is wrong alright?" Bucky asked, his voice sweet yet stern. Once more the two were answered with a nod, but this time Bruce decided he would not stop until you told him where it was hurting.
You desperately tried to stay still. But it was a nightmare as he pushed and poked at every spot on your torso to make sure you would talk. It quickly became a nightmare as you couldn't bring yourself to look at where he would poke next because you knew you'd curl up in a ball.
Bucky watched your facial expressions as you fought to hold back the laughter growing in your throat. He saw as your face became red and your body twitched, your head occasionally shaking for it all to stop. He recognized the face from years ago when Steve and he were much younger. He couldn't help but let up a confused smirk as he tested his theory and ran two fingers up your foot's sole. You yelped and jumped up again, finally stopping the somewhat sweet torture.
"Y/n-" Bruce was interrupted by a horrified look on your face, staring at a wide grinned Bucky with his arms crossed.
"Did I miss something?-" He asked, incredibly confused.
"Y/n, tell Bruce what was wrong" Bucky teased, keeping you locked in eye contact to witness his smirk whilst still motioning to a very confused and concerned Dr. Banner. You rapidly shook your head, shrinking into the wall at the head of the bed.
Banner stood on one side, and Barnes began walking over to the other, too quick for you to run away. He leaned over to you and smirked wide, a playful grin on your face making you blush with embarrassment and hide in your knees with a whine. You suddenly felt a finger poke your side and you yelped, staring at Bucky as though he'd just committed a very serious sin.
"I'm still very lost"
"Y/n here is ticklish"
Your face quickly became cherry red and you glared at him. Bruce seemed slightly surprised but also had a warm smile stating he found it cute. It was incredibly hard to keep a straight face though as Bucky wiggled two fingers at you, making you push his hand away.
"Bucky!"
"Y/n!"
You humphed and crossed your arms, trying to look so mad yet with your bright red and embarrassed face, looking cuter than ever. Bruce began explaining that most children, or teens, are ticklish, even many adults, Bucky, on the other hand, met your actions with two wriggling hands at each side.
You jumped unexpectedly, a squeal escaping your mouth as he wriggled his fingers ticklishly into each side. A wide smile took a rest on your face and your bubbly, uncontrolled laughter began to build up, soon echoing down the halls.
"No- no! Buckyyyy!!! I'm nahahat ticklish!" You begged, gripping his hands but not succeeding in removing them from your waist.
“You’re not ticklish? Then you won’t mind if I do this, right?” Bucky teased, vibrating his hands and fingertips on your sides, making you squeal and kick out your legs. Bruce too couldn't help himself when he gave your knee a little squeeze, earning a yelp in return. You shook your head and kicked out to stop it, you weren't sure why but a part of you enjoyed it, the laughter, the touch.
"You are adorable like this Y/n, who knew?" Bucky teased going back and forth, poking each side as he spoke. Bruce gave your knees a squeeze each, which was surprisingly succeeded in a wonderous reaction.
"Plehehehhahaseeeeeehehe Bruceee! Buhuhucky!" You couldn't help but giggle at each sensation and touch they laid upon your body.
Your laughter echoed through the halls, loud and cheerful. All three of you knew that this was defiantly not the last time you would be tickled senseless, oh how adorable you looked.
At that moment, the two slowed down and Wade popped his head through the door, "Wilson, did you know Y/n was ticklish?" Buck called, poking you to show him. You swatted his hand away though. Wade smirked and laughed at the three of you in a nice sorta way.
"You didn't know? Why else would they be reading this fanfiction?"
All three of you were confused, but you were still drowning in giggles until the two stopped. You panted and hugged your sides, eyes closed tight.
"You are extremely ticklish y/n" Bruce stated out loud. You only looked up for a moment with a 'stfu no shit sherlock but I still love you but also you'll regret this' face. Bucky only smirked at you and patted you on the head, you glared back at him, trying to look scary but failing incredibly well.
"Well, this was fun, but I've got to... go see Sam" Bucky explained, shrugging with a wide smirk and slowly backing away. It quickly ended in you chasing him down the halls as he called out to Sam. Let's just say Bucky Barnes is a LOT stronger and quicker than you.
#bucky x y/n#marvel#tickle community#mcu#masterlist#sfw tickles#writing#tickle fic#tickles#buckysam#deadpool#mcu tickle#marvel tickle fic#bruce banner#check up#breakup#no motivatio#act proud#lol k imma go shift bai
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Begin Again (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)
Inspo: Begin Again by Adam Melchor
Summary: Dating apps never pair you with the right people. Until you come across the profile of a handsome, pancake loving FBI agent named Marcus.
W/C: 4.8k
Warnings: lots of talk of food, language, late night deep conversations, some sadness at the end but nothing intense? reader has a pet cat, is that worth a warning? idk
A/N: HI GUYS this is my first full length Marcus Pike fic! I really hope you like it!! thank you so much to @theteddylupinexperience and @sanchosammy for being my best editors and proofreaders and idea givers!!!
note: PLS listen to the song before/after/while reading! it’s one of my favs and it really goes along with the story
Over the course of your adult years, you’ve become convinced that dating apps are complete and utter bullshit. The algorithms never work right, never pair you or any of your friends with anyone worth seeing in person. Maybe that’s just the problem; maybe it’s not the apps but the people. Whatever the answer is, whatever reason you’ve never found success in the endless swiping, you’re through with it.
That was before last week. The rainy Tuesday night left you in your apartment, alone, to succumb to the cold spring dreariness. Over a cup of hot tea, you’d downloaded the app again. Might as well try, right? You have nothing to lose. If worst comes to worst, catfishing an annoying guy is always a blast. The good news is that this app requires you as the woman to make the first move. That’s kind of a downside- you never know how to start conversations- but at least you can’t get unsolicited dick pics right off the bats. Life is full of tradeoffs, you suppose.
You begin again. The app becomes your favorite pastime. Bored at work or home? Dating app it is. Left. Left. Left. Boring man after boring man. One labeled himself super-straight: absolutely fucking not. One holding a fish: nope. A man who describes himself as a gym rat: not your type. It’s a boring way to spend your lunch break, you’re aware, but the entertainment value is fun if nothing else. There are a lot of strange men out there.
After a few days, your luck seems to turn around as the photo of a man with brown hair and warm brown eyes pops up on your screen. He has a scruffy beard and wavy hair, and the way his smile tugs at the corner of his lips makes your heart flutter. He’s really cute, you have to admit. You read the bio next.
Marcus, 35
❗️ Washington, D.C.
Got forced into making this, but optimistic. Lover of art, dogs, and time to relax. Always down for breakfast for dinner and cuddling. Looking for someone with a sense of independence, love of travel, and a sleep schedule equally fucked up as mine. Must love pancakes.
Must love pancakes. That’s absolutely adorable. You immediately think of your cat, named Pancake, and you laugh and swipe right, hoping the man already thought the same of you. Your eyes widen with excitement and you almost laugh out loud from your giddy state when you see the little logo indicating it’s a match.
The first message you send him has to be perfect. You ponder your options for a minute, frowning and furrowing your brow as you think. You don’t want to come on too strong; you’re not trying to sound like you want a hookup. A simple one-word greeting wouldn’t be enough.
You could comment on something from his bio, you realize as you read it again and again. Maybe ask him about his dog? No, that’s too awkward. You want it to be about him, something that can draw him in. Talk about traveling? No, you don’t want to sound like you’re bragging about the places you’ve gone in your life.
Pancakes. Pancakes are good. You love pancakes. You think for a second more, debating what to say, before inspiration strikes and you send off the message before you can stop yourself.
-
Marcus Pike has essentially felt the same as you. He’s a somewhat charming man. He’s had his fair share of relationships, but they never quite work out. His ex-wife, now long gone and blocked from his phone, was an absolute failure of a relationship. He’d gotten close to what felt like true love with Teresa, another FBI agent, but she flaked at the last second.
Maybe the constant here was that he met them in person. When Marcus falls, he falls hard and fast, down an endless spiral of emotions with no escape. Maybe if he met someone online, it would be different. His best friends had all encouraged it, and on a night out not long after Teresa left him, Pike set up his own profile. He liked that the app didn’t require him to make the first move. It’s refreshing.
Marcus had seen your profile hours ago, on a mindless phone break from his work. He’d swiped right too, stunned by your smile and the lovelines you radiated even through the phone. He crossed his fingers for a good part of the day, hoping you’d swipe right on him too.
His day is busy, leaving him no time to fiddle with his phone and distract himself. He eats in the cafeteria, checking up on his phone. After lunch, he’s walking back to his office when his heart flutters as he sees the dating app indicates he’s had a match. He looks at it and swallows hard before stopping, moving to the side of the hallway to allow others to pass. He’s breathing hard, and his heart speeds up when he sees that you are the one that matched with him.
He knows how this app works. He has to wait now, to let you make the first move. He can’t even write a message until you send one. So he pockets his phone again and continues on his walk.
He’s determined on his walk, rushing back to his desk so he can sit and be thoroughly enthralled in waiting for or receiving your response. His phone buzzes several times with notifications, one of which he prays is you. When he finally sits, he opens the app ceremoniously and has to hold back a genuine laugh when he sees your first message.
Blueberry or chocolate chip?
Marcus shoots back a text nearly immediately. Sorry, what?
Your bio. “Must love pancakes”. Blueberry or chocolate chip?
Marcus is absolutely beaming as he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. Blueberry. Always. I hope that’s the right answer :)
Unfortunately, it’s not, but you’re cute so I’ll let it slide
You called him cute. It makes Marcus’s heart flutter. Come on. There’s nothing like the warm blueberry popping in your mouth.
There is. It’s when the chocolate chips are all melty and creamy.
God, Marcus is already painfully into you. You know what… at least you love pancakes. I’ll let it slide. You got a favorite place?
Anywhere I can get ‘em. You seem like quite the connoisseur, do you have one place in mind?
Jane slams down a stack of files on Marcus’s desk. “Paperwork overflow, Pike. Can you get these done tonight?”
Marcus is the fastest in the office with paperwork, which often leads to him being the one that flies through the files in the place of the people who actually filed it. He nods. What else is there to do? “Sure.”
Jane claps him on the shoulder and wanders off. Marcus watches him in slight annoyance. The best place in D.C. is definitely Sandy’s. Hey I gotta go, text ya later?
I’d love that :)
-
It didn’t take long for your texting to move from the dating app to actual texting. It happened within the same day, in fact.
Marcus messaged you some hours after the initial conversation. Your phone buzzed while you were doing yoga in your apartment, your cat curled into a ball beneath your stomach as you held a downward dog. You nearly collapsed on top of Pancake as you fumbled to sit cross-legged on the end of your yoga mat.
The message from Marcus is bright on the top of your screen. Hi. Sorry that took so long. Work stuff.
Smiling, you take a swig from your water bottle and lean back against your couch. Not a problem. Understandable. What do you do for a living? It’s a loaded question in D.C.; they could range anywhere from politicians to their rich sons to artists and athletes.
I work for the FBI, actually.
Your eyes light up in excitement. That’s the coolest shit I’ve heard. What do you do? Are you an agent?
The man’s responses don’t take long at all. He must be waiting in the chat to respond. The idea makes your heart flutter. Yep, I’m an agent. I work in international art crimes.
You certainly didn’t expect that for an answer. Wow, okay, that’s even cooler than I thought. I was about to call you Agent Pancake but I think my girl would be disheartened...
Snapping a photo of the way Pancake is nuzzling into your side, meowing for snuggles, you have to laugh as you send the photo his way. Funny you love pancakes so much. This little muppet is named Pancake.
Marcus responds with a barrage of heart-eyes emojis, which makes you laugh aloud and scoop Pancake into your lap, stroking her strawberry-blonde fluff. She’s an absolute angel. Like her mother, I’m presuming.
Your cheeks flood with warmth and you can feel the tips of your ears turning hot too. You’ve never even met me, Agent…? You trail off the text, asking for his last name.
Pike.
Agent Marcus Pike. What a nice sounding name. It sounds official and strong and you really like it. Cute last name. Might steal it from ya someday ;)
You don’t normally flirt this shamelessly, but he’s so goddamn cute and funny. You cross your fingers behind your back that this isn’t just a facade, that this is Marcus himself texting like he would to anyone else. You got a phone number?
As you laugh, Pancake paws at your chest to grab your attention, nails nearly digging into the stretchy fabric of your yoga tank top. “Watch it,” you scold her softly and remove her paw from your chest, picking her up and giving her a kiss on the head. Sure do. You want it?
Yes please.
You send your number his way and moments later, your phone pings with a text from an unlabeled number.
Maybe: Pike: hey, it’s Pike :)
You: hey… dammit, I really want to call you Agent Pancakes, but I think my fluffy little heathen would be offended. I don’t know what to save you in my phone as...
Agent Pancakes: Save me as whatever, I suppose. Not my problem, right?
-
The texts became more frequent. Over the course of three weeks, you’d stay up late talking like teenagers, knowing you need to go to bed but unable to bring yourself to do it.
You learned that his middle name was Mauricio, that his mother wanted him to have at least something a little more Latino in his name. You told him the story of how you’d adopted Pancake as a kitten from a shelter and she woke you up one morning with her claws entwined in a snarl of your hair. He told you about his ex-wife and ex-fiancée, Teresa, and you responded that he deserved something better than that. You can already tell that he’s a good man.
At the end of three weeks, you shot Marcus a text. Things seemed to be going pretty well.
You: Hey, you want to do a video call sometime soon?
Agent Pancakes: I’d love that! I’m free tonight if you are.
You: Always free. Shouldn’t you know that?? Doesn’t the FBI spy on us through our phones and whatever?
Agent Pancakes: well, I do work in art crimes. Even if we did, it would be a totally different thing
You: Good.
An hour later, you fidget with your hands as you sit on your couch, the laptop propped up across from you and ringing for a video chat. Marcus’s profile picture bobs on the screen as you wait for him to pick up.
Marcus’s face and apartment fills your screen, and you automatically grin. “Hi,” you giggle and wave, absolutely enraptured by how cute his real smile is, not the forced one in the photos.
“Hey. Nice to kind of-finally meet you,” he tells you and waves back. The wall of his apartment is nothing exciting, but his facial expressions already have you falling. Those big brown eyes compliment natural but ridiculously pink lips, and his brown hair is neatly done. It looks like he’s wearing a tie and a dress shirt; probably his work gear, you suppose.
“You too!” You tell him, unable to stop smiling. “You shaved.”
-
Marcus’s heart jumps out of his chest when he sees you ringing him. He barely has time to flop on the couch and turn it on, propping up the camera across from him.
God, you’re so gorgeous. Your giggle is infectious, making Marcus laugh softly at god knows what. Your grin is equally as contagious, making him smile back. He rubs his jaw in response. “Yeah, yeah. I tend to keep it clean there. Stubble takes too much maintenance, and I have this little patch where it never quite grows,” he tells you as he juts his chin to the camera, touching the spot where his beard can’t grow.
“I like it either way,” you assure him, shrugging a little. “How was your day, Agent Pancakes?” Your voice is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard, even with the granulated audio over this shitty app. Agent Pancakes makes his heart flutter. “No, not you!” You groan as Pancake climbs onto your lap. “Hi. Your twin wants to say hi.”
Marcus’s smile widens. “Oh my god, hello cutie pie,” he chuckles, launching into baby talk. “What a pretty girl. You make a good Pancake.”
You smile and rub her fur, grinning. “She’s my baby,” you chuckle and set her aside. “Yeah. I’m busy. Leave me alone.” Pancake meows in protest. “Shut up, I’m on a date,” you whine.
Marcus’s ears perk up. “This is a date?”
Your eyes widen as you turn back to him. “I… yeah?” You ask, wincing a little.
He grins back at you. “I like it. And I’m really in love with the idea of seeing your face when you talk.”
“I like your voice,” you flirt back, but you mean it. “It’s so pretty. Do you sing?” You ask mindlessly, studying the way his brow furrows and his eyes convey exactly what he’s thinking.
He chuckles softly. “I used to. I haven’t in a long long time.”
“You’ll have to sing for me sometime.”
When he shakes his head, his neatly gelled hair tries to break free. A strand does, falling in his face. “You don’t wanna hear it, I promise.” He removes his tie, and you can’t help but watch the movement. It’s incredibly sexy.
A mischievous smile makes you bite the inside of your cheek. “No, I really do, I really think I do.”
Marcus rolls his eyes. “Only if you try the pancakes at Sandy’s sometime. I promise you, they’re the best pancakes in the District. I’ve never had the chocolate chip pancakes, but if they’re anywhere near as good as the blueberry, they’re fantastic. And they’re open 24 hours. I go there a lot for late night case work.”
You smile at that, getting cozy on your couch and hugging your blanket. “That does sound nice. I love a good all day breakfast,” you say with raised eyebrows, the teasing in your voice. “Okay, human Pancakes. How was your day?” You ask him again, intent on hearing his answer. Not only is his job fascinating, but he’s adorable when he explains things.
Marcus frowns, and that makes you instinctively frown too. “Well, it’s been good. We’re tracking a huge smuggling ring right now, but since we’ve pinpointed a stock house for them, I might have to travel for a while.”
You frown. You’d been hoping you could have a real date soon, at least. “How long is a while?” You ask him curiously, sipping from your water bottle that sits next to you.
“Couple weeks. No less than a month, probably. I’d… well, I might have to go undercover, which means we couldn’t talk for a while.” His eyes are apologetic, showing that he hates this news as much as you do. “And… I’d leave maybe tomorrow or the day after.”
Your heart sinks. “So soon,” you say with a sad smile, a desperate and lonely chuckle. “Well, if you want to come home to me, I’ll be here.”
Marcus’s smile perks up just slightly. “You would be the best thing in the world to come home to. And I’ll have the scruff back by then.”
“Yes!” You exclaim and laugh, pumping a fist in the air. “I think you’re really cute anyway, but I really love the scruff,” you shrug shyly.
“Maybe I’ll grow it out just for you.”
-
The adrenaline from his first technical-date with you prevents Marcus from sleeping. The call lasted hours, the two of you covering almost everything important in your lives. You talked about your favorite television programs and politics, your parents and your favorite pizza toppings. Talking with him was like nothing you’d ever experience, a connection you’d never thought a dating app could offer.
After several hours, during a lull in the conversation, Marcus suggested the two of you log off. It was around 11 P.M. now, and, even though Marcus has a sleep schedule like a raccoon, he figured you should sleep. He blew you a kiss through the camera, which you pretended to hold to your chest and grin at him.
But now it’s an hour later, just past midnight, and Marcus is antsy. He doesn’t sleep much anyway, but your face is running through his mind like it owns the place, and at this point, maybe you do. Marcus sits up in bed and sighs. He knows the proper remedy for this: Sandy’s. Throwing on a rare pair of jeans and a leather jacket over the white v-neck he wears, he slips on his shoes and makes his way to the tiny, 24-hour diner.
-
The adrenaline is coursing through your veins too. You text any of your friends that will listen, rambling about how beautiful Marcus’s face is and how wonderful it was to finally hear his voice. You pace your apartment, petting Pancake as you pass her perch on the arm of your couch. You try to do a little yoga to calm down but you can’t stop smiling. Marcus occupies too much room in your brain to try to think about anything else.
When it’s just after midnight, hunger strikes. You realize you never ate dinner, too preoccupied with talking to the handsome man to even consider microwaving something from your fridge. Talking with Marcus has instilled you with a love for pancakes, and you think to yourself that maybe Sandy’s would be worth a shot. It’s open late.
So you toss on a jacket and pick up your purse, slinging it over your shoulder and leaving your apartment. You toss the book you’ve been reading into your bag, planning to read it while you sit and eat. Pancake gives a sleepy meow of protest but you just smile and lock the door behind you.
The diner is just as small as Marcus described it to you: just a short line of booths along the windows and a smattering of tables in the middle. There’s a colorful, warm-toned tile floor that juxtaposes the warm green of the walls and the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes wafting through the air. Quiet classic swing music filling the atmosphere. You can see why he likes it: it automatically makes you smile.
You sit in one of the booths, facing away from the door, and the kind waitress takes your order: chocolate chip pancakes and an English breakfast tea. The air conditioning is blasting, making you chilly. You tighten your jacket around yourself and sip the tea when it arrives, adding cream and sugar.
Cracking open the book, you cross your legs and lose yourself in the book. The restaurant has a calming aura, and you can feel the tea warming you from the inside. It’s fitting that Marcus loves this place, you think to yourself.
When the pancakes come not long after, you take a bite and almost groan in happiness. It’s absolutely delicious: Marcus was most definitely right. Disappointingly, you have to go to the bathroom about three bites in.
Even the bathrooms are cute, you discover. When you return, someone else sits a booth away, another lone diner at this godforsaken hour of night, facing the door. You can see the back of what appears to be a man’s head, neatly trimmed brown hair and a brown leather jacket over their neck and shoulders. Sitting back down, your back to the other customer’s, you return to your book and continue to eat your chocolate chip pancakes.
The customer and waitress are talking, but you don’t pay much attention, too enraptured by your book. It’s quiet again after the man puts in his order, and you enjoy the soft jazz music that makes you tap your foot in time against the tile.
There’s a buzzing and the melodic sound of a phone’s ringtone; one of the defaults that a phone provides. Your heart skips a beat as you hear the man pick up. “Agent Pike.”
That can’t be your Agent Pike, can it? You turn and listen and realize it’s definitely him, from his voice and the way he holds himself and the stack of- of course, blueberry pancakes and a hot coffee set in front of him.
“Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Sounds good. Let me write that down.” Marcus types something into his phone. “See you then. At the office? Good. Alright, see you.” He hangs up.
Standing, you tuck your book back in your purse and put the bag over your shoulder. With one hand, you grab your plate of pancakes, and the other grabs your tea. You set them down across from him and slide into the booth, grinning. “Huh. Agent Pancakes, here, in the middle of the night. How unusual.”
Marcus’s tired face lights up in excitement. “What?” He laughs, his eyes scanning your face. “Why are you here?”
You shrug and take a bite of his pancakes, sighing. “Had to see if they were worth the hype. I couldn’t sleep, you got me so excited.” The blueberry pancakes are absolutely fantastic, just as good if not better than the chocolate chip ones on your plate. “Damn, you were right.”
“Hey,” he laughs and pulls his plate closer to his chest. “Don’t touch my pancakes.”
You make pleading pouty eyes, frowning a little. “Can’t we share?” You tease. It already feels like you’ve known him for years, even though this is your first time seeing him in person.
Marcus sighs. “I suppose,” he says and rolls his eyes in sarcasm, pushing his plate back out so you can access it.
-
Marcus is beyond stunned, absolutely enraptured in how beautiful you are in person. If he thought he fell on that video call earlier, he’s now reached the very bottom of that cliff, the impact of your everything stealing the air from his lungs. God, he wants nothing more than to kiss you right now, on those lips coated in blueberry juice and maple syrup.
The two of you spend quite some time so there, just talking and continuing the conversation where it left off before. The waitress refills Marcus’s coffee twice and your tea once. “So who called you when you were sitting alone?” You ask him as you bring the white porcelain mug to your lips, sipping at the creamy tea.
He sighs. “Guy I work with, his name’s Patrick. He’s a douchebag, I can’t lie,” he says with a chuckle, and his heart flutters at the way you give a soft laugh back. “Just telling me the details. I leave in about 6 hours. I’ll be in Singapore for a couple of weeks.”
“Singapore?” You exclaim, eyes wide as your fork clanks against your plate. “You better be able to contact me.”
He shakes his head. “I told you, I’m going undercover. I can’t.” He sighs, and he dares to reach out and touch you, to reassure you that he’s there and himself that you’re real, that you’re right there. “Will you wait for me?”
Your heart melts, from an already slush-covered river to a rushing rapids. “Of course, Marcus.” It makes his heart skip a beat. You’ve called him lots of nicknames, but never his real name. Something is painfully intimate about it. “I like you a lot; why wouldn’t I?” You ask, shrugging as if it’s the simplest thing. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder.”
When you finish your meals, Marcus picks up both tabs, despite your protesting. “Can I walk you to your place?” He asks as you both stand and adjust your jackets.
You nod and take his hand. The lights of the city are seemingly extra dim tonight, leaving the street lights to illuminate your beautiful face as the two of you stroll along. You have all the time in the world, don’t you? It’s 1:30 in the morning. You’re both already evading sleep desperately. A little more time together can’t hurt.
His hand never leaves yours, his fingers lacing through your knuckles. You chat quietly, as if you could wake the sleeping city from the peaceful blue drone of a weeknight morning into its daily splendor of horns and hordes of speedy pedestrians.
Marcus bumps your shoulder with his, making you stumble a little to the side and laugh as you look up at his gorgeous face. His face reflects the love you’re both feeling, almost giving the city around you a pink glaze of warmth from the rose-colored glasses you must have placed over his eyes.
The walk draws to an end, as you stand at the entrance to your apartment building. Marcus’s body looks so soft and inviting, and you dare to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him to your chest. “I don’t want you to go, Agent Pancakes,” you murmur into the soft skin of his neck, which is starting to get a shadow of stubble.
Marcus kisses the top of your head. He doesn’t move either, prolonging this time you have together before he can’t see you. “I don’t want to go. I’ve never wanted to stay here more than I do now, but I have to.” His arms wrap around your waist, strong and safe.
Lifting your head, you look up at him, your noses practically touching from the proximity you share. The world feels like a bubble around you two, like some impenetrable one-way material that makes it so if Marcus leaves now, he can never come back. “Well, it’s gonna be a long time, a month or two,” you say with a sad smile. “We’ll have to begin again.”
Marcus shakes his head, his brown eyes almost welling with tears. “There’s no one else I’d want to begin again with.” With that, he looks in your eyes, the question hanging there. Wait for me?
Always, you respond silently by pressing your lips to his, kissing him slowly in the orange glow of your apartment building’s entrance. He kisses back, his lips tasting of coffee and maple and blueberry, yours tasting like chocolate and tea.
You squeeze your arms tighter around him, getting on your tiptoes to be as physically close as you can to him. He has one hand on either side of your rib cage, holding you there as he kisses back with all of the passion and love he has.
It can’t last too long or he’ll never leave. He won’t be able to. He breaks away after a few moments, his lips close to yours. He presses your foreheads together, arms encircling you again. “I have to go. I have to be at the office in an hour.”
You lift your head and your brow furrows in confusion. “Then why did you take so long to walk and eat with me?” You laugh quietly.
Marcus shrugs. “Didn’t want to leave you yet,” he admits, his eyes trained on yours. He gives you one last painfully gentle kiss. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you more,” you say with a sad smile. “You’ve been my distraction lately. Whenever I’m bored, I text you.”
He sighs, the confession increasing his frown. “I’ll be in an entirely new place, without you.”
“But I’ll be here, in my same old life without you in it.”
The words punch a hole through Marcus’s heart. It’s true; he’ll have new distractions, new things to do. You’ll be here with a Marcus Pike-shaped hole in your heart. He kisses your forehead, the wheels turning in his head. “If you get a call in the next few weeks from an unknown number, be sure to answer it, okay?”
You nod and smile softly. “You need to go. Go.”
He nods and his hand squeezes yours. “I can’t wait to begin again with you.” With that, Marcus Pike, Agent Pancakes, whatever you want to call him, the man you’re highly suspecting might be your soulmate, walks off into the slightly chilly D.C. night.
-
taglist:
@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic
#marcus pike#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike headcanons#pedro pascal#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#the mentalist#the mentalist fanfiction#begin again
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