#squiggle brow

[lilflowerpot]

For the Zarkon/Tortoise ask, can I please use your drawing as a pfp? I really like it! The details, colouring, and just the general vibe I get from it is so cool! I honestly thought a person could either be good at writing or drawing, but somehow you know how to do both incredibly well! 💕

asdjnknhjsabfcbsdk you're adorable and I'm very glad you like my silly little rendition so much—consider him free to use darling!

#you're too kind 😭 #i'd love to take credit for the painterly effect but i was v lazy and just oil-pastel-filtered him lmao #then tweaked the colours / squiggled some lines / emphasised his angry brows / made him a little hat............et voilà! #Ao3 Little Blade #sa screams back #the author speaks

[kiwisbell]

yellow bird [joel miller]

Taking the weight off your shoulders.

whiskey sour masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), dbf!joel, age gap (20s/40s), sexual frustration, academic-validation-to-praise-kink pipeline, these two are in lurvvvv, thigh riding, joel talks you through it, and maybe reveals a side of him we haven't seen yet, a lil fluid exchange, some sweet sappy talk because it's them what do we expect, pure self-indulgence, that’s about it

word count: ~ 2.7k

a/n: this was mine and @cavillscurls's challenge to myself to write somethin short and sweet, thank you mya for being a cheerleader throughout this whole process. and thank you hugely el @northernbluess for last-minute beta reading and telling me it does not(?), in fact, suck dick n cock. i envision this as part of the whiskey sour-verse, but you don't need to read the series to understand what's going on here! this honestly makes me super fucking nervy to post, but i hope you enjoy. xoxo

read on ao3!

follow @kiwisbellupdates and turn on notifications if you'd like to be notified when i post a fic!

The moon is carving a path through the darkening sky, and you’ve been quiet for hours. 

You sit at the dining table with your cheek in your palm, lidded eyes flitting relentlessly from one side of the page to another. Every couple minutes, you jot down some notes on your cue cards. Your coffee lies untouched next to your textbook. 

Each slash of pen across paper cuts into his chest. You write in bursts of furious energy, the paper sometimes bunching under your fist, black ink smearing—you only ever write in black—one letter into the next. Your jerky looping letters resemble nothing close to your penmanship. Your sentences are punctuated by squiggles rather than dots. The corners of your eyes are moist, your skin glowing gold under a filtered smattering of light from the street lamps outside. 

There's a tight line to the curve of your mouth, a gash of colour where your lipstick has faded. Weariness dulls the shimmer in your eye. You keep writing. 

“Thought you were goin’ out with your friends tonight,” says Joel. 

“Hmm?” You blink slowly, the sound of his voice dragging your gaze toward Joel: dressed in jeans and an olive flannel (a gift from you), he's watching you study, a worried slash between his brows. “Oh,” you say. “No. I bailed.”

A flare of his nostrils as he approaches you from the coffee station is the only indication he gives that he's frustrated. “You’ve been workin’ all day, baby. You haven't eaten.” He slides his coffee mug toward you and switches it with your own. “Here, take mine. Yours is gettin’ cold.”

You start to shake your head. “Joel, it’s—”

“It's either you drink mine,” he says, sliding the milk and sugar toward you, “or you take a break.”

You narrow your eyes. “You hate my coffee.”

“Relationships are sacrifice. C’mere.” He yanks the leg of your chair toward him until you're sitting beside one another. He dips his mouth to your temple, and sleep begins to tug at your eyelids. Still, you keep your books open, if not partially out of spite, as Joel drinks your too-sweet coffee and hides his grimace. 

“You hate it.”

Joel’s eyes slide to you over the rim of his cup, his chest pulling taut at the sight of the unshed tear on the outer corner of your eye, teetering. 

Your bottom lip wobbles, your last Sisyphean effort to hold the droplet of water at bay, and Joel sets down the mug. 

“You hate my coffee,” you whisper, not meeting his eye. 

It's the press of his hand to your lower back that makes your fingers tremble, curled tightly around your pen. “There are worse things I’d do for you than drink shitty coffee.”

“So you admit it's shitty.”

His fingers dance up and down your lower vertebrae. “You’re exhausted,” he says softly, his mouth grazing your shoulder. “Come and take a break. Can feel all that tension, sweetheart. Right—”

The warm press of his palm between your shoulder blades. The simple touch ignites pressure behind your nose. 

“—here,” he finishes with the pinch of his thumb and forefinger around your brain stem. 

Your head lolls gently in his direction. “I know what you're doing.”

An innocent sound pitches out of his throat. “Do you?”

Your lashes flutter as he begins to dig his palm into the tense balls of muscle in your back. The contact, warm and almost gentle, undoes you. The pearl stuck in your lashes shakes free. 

The impact of it carving a path down your cheek strikes his heart true. “C’mere, baby.” 

Pulling you reluctantly away from your workbooks, Joel sits on the couch and guides you on top of him, your thighs hugging his hips. “This sad face,” he says under his breath, brushing the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. “So pretty when you’re sad.” Your eyes dip when his stubble ghosts across your jaw, his lips warming the shell of your ear. 

You huff, your arms winding around his neck. “You’re wandering into patronising, Miller.”

“Hmm, big words.” His grin carves its shape into your skin. He nips the spot just below your ear and you gasp, your fingers curling in the locks at the nape of his neck. “Told you, baby—such a smart girl.”

You open your mouth to snip at him, but he’s sliding one big, rough hand underneath your silky shorts and pinching your ass. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, his pinky finger dipping under your waistband. 

“I’m fine,” you grumble, wriggling on his lap. He hums, the downward curve of his mouth on your skin etched in skepticism, his hands pulling you tighter to him.

“Tell me what’s wrong, baby.” His hand slides up your spine, lifting your little silk shirt, the hardness of him caging you in. “Tell me so I can fix it.”

You're gooey and pliant on top of him, hips flexing to fix your thighs around his waist, your body attuned to him in a way you refuse to fight. Joel Miller is yours. He’s always had your back. 

“I’m tired, Joel. I keep bombing these stupid fucking tests, and the new guy at work is incompetent, and I haven't had an orgasm in a whole week.”

Sometimes, you're surprised by how deeply you envy your Joel for being so fucking right. For knowing, even when you don't, how deeply your wounds sit. 

He frowns up at you, his thumb caressing the curve of your jaw, guilt and understanding pinching his ribs. “And I’ve been workin’ late,” he says. 

Silently, you nod, fisting the hem of his shirt. “But that's okay, Joel. I know you work hard. It's not your job to—”

He shakes his head, trailing his hands up and down your soft thighs. “I’ve been workin’ late,” he repeats, his voice thinning, “and I haven't been treating my girl like she deserves.”

Your cheeks warm at the way his hands reach your inner thighs, thumbs ghosting across your hip bones. “That's not true.”

“Baby, you look at me.” He cups you like warm wax and you're melting just the same, gaze sliding up to meet his. Brown, glinting gold as they catch the orange lamplight, his eyes don't leave you. “You need to come?”

Your mouth drops. You really fucking do. If he notices your slip—the way your hips still on his lap, your arms wound tight around his shoulders—he doesn't say nor soothe. “Joel, I didn’t mean to—”

He quiets you with a loving nip at your chin. “You wanna be a good girl?”

A shudder railroads down your vertebrae. Your core is tight, hot, your little pyjama shorts shifting over your pussy, velvet-soft. “Joel, you really don't have to—”

“You wanna come?” he says again, his teeth scraping the shell of your ear before he takes your lobe between them. You gasp, clutching him tight to you, a buoy bobbing above the torrent. 

“Yes,” you tell him, breathless, letting him play with the waistband of your shorts. “Yes. I need to come so badly. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m a bad man, takin’ my girl for granted.” 

It’s not true, he’d never, has not once, and still you whimper at the sound of my girl on his tongue. 

“You are a bad man,” you tell him, halfheartedly shoving him in the chest. 

“And?” he prompts, drawing the poison from the wound. 

“And I need to come.”

Joel’s mouth curves in understanding, the hairs of his moustache bristling in the corners. 

“Take ‘em off,” he says. “Let me be good to you.”

You ease your thighs out of your silk shorts, and Joel’s got his hands on your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. A cool shiver snakes from your cool feet, now on the floor as you stand naked before him, to the scruff of your neck. It longs for the touch of his fingers. 

“God, you're fuckin’ beautiful.” Joel takes your outstretched hand, tugging you toward him. His palms smooth over the planes of your torso, thick fingers fitting to your ribs, the follower at the altar. It's only when he touches the small of your back that his eyes abstain from their reverent path across your body and meet yours. 

“Tell me what you want,” he says plainly, fingers catching at the ends of your hair. 

You crowd him, gaze sweeping down his body at the hard length of his cock down his thick thighs and the utter stillness of him when met with your type-A jitters. 

“To be your good girl,” you say. 

“I know.” It's a whisper in the quiet. Somewhere, distantly, the dishwasher churns through its cycle. A car horn blares. Wind blows. “Sit down.”

You go eagerly to him, your spirit alight with his closeness, the scent of pine and sawdust from a long day’s work, the soft cotton of his flannel, the scrape of his denim along your thighs. Wordlessly, Joel shifts you until you're straddling one of his thighs. 

The jolt of pressure to your clit makes you gasp, clawing for purchase on his chest. Your fists wrap around the lining of his flannel. 

Oh, God is the vague chant that eats at his liver, chewing on the ripe mass, the wound sealing over to deliver himself once again at your feet. It’s tossed into the space between you, maybe a little blasphemous, maybe thoughtless. It’s the glassy film over your eyes, those irises he could trace in the dark, the call of love that never quiets. 

“Feel good?” 

The smug bastard. His hand is still soft and sweet on your spine, climbing high only to drop, no longer meeting the resistance of clothing. The cool air puckers your nipples, your body tightening as you pull in on yourself. 

“You remember that first night?” he says softly, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You were so cold, baby. All alone and needin' a good strong hand.”

He squeezes your ass, forcing your hips to shift over his leg. The slow grind of your wet seam along the coarse denim makes your thighs tremble. “Fuck,” you whisper. “That's… that’s good.”

He hums like he knows. “You remember what you did that night?” he asks. “Climbed on me, just like this, and made yourself feel good. Thought I’d come in my pants then and there.”

Your breathless laugh hitches in your throat as your hips begin to grind down of their own volition. The friction is rough, unkind, nothing like the gentle press of his hands on your bare skin. Sweat begins to glisten in the hollow of your throat as you throw your head back and lose yourself in the rhythmic roll of your body over his thigh. 

“That's it,” he grunts, squeezing your hips, his cock twitching, untouched, in his boxers. You’re smearing your wetness over the denim, washing it dark, letting the light shift over your writhing body. “That's my pretty girl, usin’ me like you need to.”

“Ah, fuck,” you cry out, bearing down the weight of you on his leg, grinding hard against him as you seek your own pleasure. 

“Let's hear it,” he urges, gritting his teeth at the sight of your poor swollen clit, needy and glistening, exposed. “Lemme have it, baby girl, c’mon.”

Your moan is strangled, language muddied in your head as Joel surges upright and latches his mouth around your nipple. Biting and sucking raw, his rapacious mouth is warm nectar that pools hot in your belly, his hands coaxing your hips through their movements, guiding you in the dance nonetheless. 

“I'm your good girl,” you rasp, the coil pulling tight at the base of your stomach, the hollow bowl filling to the brim, keeping him, coveting him. 

“That's right. My good girl.” His hot breath blooms like possessive fingers where his mouth makes contact on your throat, plucking your nerve endings like a bushel of daisies. 

“I can feel you, baby girl,” he groans into your throat. “I can feel your tight fuckin’ cunt gettin’ me all wet. Feel you grabbin’ me like a goddamn cat. You close, huh?”

You whimper, your nails scratching at his chest through the fabric of his shirt, your stomach taut as you approach your high, bucking your hips hard against his leg. “Fuck, Joel, fuck! I’m so close—”

“Tell me who you are.”

“I’m a good girl.” You wind your arms around his neck as you begin to list, your breasts pressing into his chest, closeness sparking to flame as your warmth rubs up against him. 

He’s steadfast, thick arms holding you upright, as he groans your name into your ear like it's something blasphemous. “Who are you?” he repeats. 

“I’m your good girl, Joel! Fuck, I’m yours, your good girl. Oh, God, Joel, please…”

“That's right, sweetheart.” His hand latches around the nape of your neck, slick with sweat, while you bury your face in his throat. “My good girl’s gonna come all over me again, because that's what good girls do, hmm? They make themselves feel good when their bad men go and forget their place.”

You sob his name into the crook of his neck, the friction etching too much into your sore, rubbed-raw flesh. Your thighs hug him tight, hips thrashing hard above him as you come with a shout, your wet mouth dragging along the vein pulsing in his throat and trailing saliva in its wake. Joel doesn’t seem to care, coaxing you through your high when it starts to last a little longer than normal, pulling you so close that you can hardly remember your shape when it’s not slotting into him. 

There's a dark spot spreading over his jeans, and your inner thighs are sticky with release. Joel tilts your chin up with his mouth, littering kisses from your jaw to the hollow of your throat. His tongue darts out playfully as his fingers dip between your bodies and tease through your messy slit. 

“Joel,” you gasp, your face warm. He lifts two soaked fingers to his mouth and cleans them off with a couple swirls of his tongue. 

And he's kissing you before you can retreat into yourself. He turns you inside-out, bares your soul to him, and all you can do is taste the sweet tang of the release you gave yourself. 

Your tongues tangle, languid in your mutual exploration, the push-and-pull you've always known. By the time he pulls away to press his lips to your forehead, you're decently sleepy, your muscles gooey and your body slumping sideways in his lap. 

“Ruined your jeans,” you mumble. 

His fingertips ghost up and down your spine. A cool shudder blooms from each point of contact. He’s still hard, enough that it must ache, but he makes no move to free himself. “I like ‘em this way,” he says. 

You roll your eyes. “Such an idiot.”

Clicking his tongue, Joel says, “You treat your elders this way?”

You nip his nose. “Only when they’re sweet on me.”

He chuckles, brushing your hair behind your ear so he can kiss your temple. “You feel okay?”

Your hands slide up his chest, hooking around his neck, your fingers threading together in his hair. “I feel like a million bucks, baby. But next time, you can come inside me.”

The purr registering in your chest has him preening under the attention, his hands coming to rest just above your ass. “I’m gonna tell you what’s going to happen tonight,” he says, ignoring your apprehensive glare. “You're gonna put away your books, and eat a good dinner, which I’ll make, and you’ll rest.”

Your Joel is stubborn in his own way, and it shows in the tension above his brow, the splaying of his hand over your back. You reach for him and smooth out his frown with your thumb. “I’ll do whatever you say, Joel Miller. As long as you make my favourite.”

You could drown happily in the way he smiles. It always comes on slow, like he isn't quite sure of himself, but it will glow in his eyes. It will sing through him like a light through glass. 

“Yeah,” he says, “I can do that.”

Your blood calls to him. And you could do it all without him, sure—but he won’t let you. 

THE END.

#posting this and running #kiwisbell's fics #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #whiskey sour #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff

[buckyalpine]

Imagine Bucky always sees you doodling away in a little notebook you bring for meetings. You obviously take diligent notes but every so often you'll zone out, fully focused on a mindless drawing with you brows pinched together. Sometimes your tongue pokes out and Bucky finds it utterly adorable, especially when you think no one notices.

He's never actually seen what you draw in there. He assumes your book is filled with tiny flowers or smiley faces, maybe a few squiggles of nothing at all.

You had forgotten to take your book with you, running off for a hot bath after listening to Tony drone on about missions and the importance of updated technology. Bucky noticed the small pink book, smiling at the tiny daisies that decorated the front; your notebook was as adorable as you. He grabbed it along with his own things, making his way to your room to drop it off.

The book slipped onto the floor, landing open; he didn't think much of it, hardly scanning the pages as he picked it up.

Then he stopped.

He saw the first drawing.

Then another drawing catches his eye.

It couldn't be.

Then he saw that one.

His jeans suddenly become unbearably uncomfortable, the tightness almost painful. His cock is rock hard and he has no way of hiding it, swallowing thickly as he scans the page.

Maybe this wasn't your book.

He flips to the front and your name is right there with little hearts dotted all around it.

Fuck.

-

You dried your hair off and threw on some comfy clothes, foregoing a bra since you were going to relax in bed anyway. You noticed you'd forgotten your book, running over to the conference room before it fell into the wrong hands.

it wasn't there.

You huffed, walking back to your room, hoping maybe it was just misplaced instead of actually lost, not noticing someone walking in and clicking the lock shut.

"Looking for something?" Bucky casually walked into your room while you yelped, breathing out a sigh when you saw who it was.

"Hey Buck. Yeah, I can't find my note book, have you seen it?" You fidgeted with your fingers, eyes growing wide when you saw it in his hand. "Oh thank God, you found it!-

You reached out for it only to have Bucky snatch his hand away, holding it in the air out of each, a smirk growing on his face. You felt your cheeks heat up hoping he hadn't seen what was inside, pouting when he shook his head at your feeble attempts to get your book.

"Bucky, give it back!"

"What do you use this book for anyway?" He cocked his head while you squirmed, not noticing he'd backed you against the wall of your room, "Hm?"

"N-notes.." You mumbled while he hummed, not even bothering to hide the hardness between his legs. You could smell his cologne and something that was distinctly him with how close he was.

"Doll... is there something you want to tell me" His husky voice whispered in your ear sending shivers down your spine.

"N-no" you squeak out, absolutely mortified over what he saw, gasping when his flesh hand came to wrap around your throat.

"I think I saw something like this" He nipped your ear lobe, giving your neck a gentle squeeze, his metal hand coming down to toy with the waistband of your shorts before slipping in. You let out a breathless moan as his cold fingers teased your folds, rubbing your wetness around.

"Was that my hand you were drawing sweets? hm? all covered in those pretty juices? Is that what you want baby? You want my metal hand to be covered in your cream, my fingers shoved up this little pussy?"

"Please Bucky" You whined, practically grinding yourself onto his hand while he let out a dark chuckle, pushing two fingers deep into your pussy. You nearly buckled over, his arm holding you up as he started to pump in and out, soaking his hand.

"Shhh, You're not as innocent as you look, are you Bambi. Hmm, which drawing was that... it looked a little like.." He continued to tease you, curling and fucking you with his fingers while you shamelessly sobbed out of pleasure, whining when he pulled them out. "Just like this?"

Bucky smirked, letting your slick coat his fingers, strings of arousal clinging between each digit. He shoved them in his mouth, groaning a your taste, licking them clean before grabbing you and tossing you onto his bed, pulling his sweats down just enough to stroke his cock.

"Let's see if I can help inspire some other drawings"

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x f!reader #marvel smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fan fiction #bucky fan fic #bucky fanart #bucky fanfic #bucky banres #bucky #bucky x you #avengers smut #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel

[munson-blurbs]

The Boy is Mine (Bug's Version)

Part of @carolmunson's writing challenge! Thank you for spreading some love and joy in this community, and I hope this fic makes you smile.

Summary: A cozy night in with your sweet boyfriend who is a nuisance in the best way.

Warnings: allusions to smut, allusion to spitting, lewd jokes, basically just fluffy fluffness

WC: 1k

--

Poke.

Poke poke.

Poke poke poke.

Poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke–

“If you don’t stop,” you hiss without looking up from your chemistry notes, “we’re gonna have a problem.” 

Eddie pulls his forefinger back from where it’s pressed against your earlobe, his shit-eating grin morphing into a pitiful pout.

“But it’s date night,” he whines, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You promised me we could curl up and watch Monty Python after an hour, and it’s been…” he glances at the digital watch wrapped around his wrist, “...one hour and three minutes.”

“I’m still trying memorize–”

He snaps the small notebook shut and pulls you closer to him, effectively cutting you off. “And you will–after the movie.” Leaning back against the couch, he lines up his finger to once again prod at you. “C’mon, Sweetheart; we never get the place to ourselves on Friday nights.”

He’s right; his uncle has off on Friday nights and usually prefers to spend his free time relaxing at home, but he’s on a fishing trip this weekend with some of his old army buddies. 

“Okay, okay.” Truthfully, you are in dire need of a break; the formulas and lists of molecular compounds have all become meaningless squiggles right before your eyes. Your back hurts from being hunched over the snack table you’re using in lieu of a desk. Whatever ‘studying’ you do now will likely be unproductive, so you might as well snuggle up next to your boyfriend and enjoy a movie. “But only if I can study after. Some of us would prefer not to spend an entire decade in high school.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs. You’re the only person who’s allowed to crack jokes about him being held back–twice–and you milk it for all it’s worth. “Aw, don’t be like that. That’s not even true. It’s only been six years. And I’m gonna graduate this time. So, ha.” He sticks out his tongue, making you giggle in turn. “But, fine. You can go back to your smart person mumbo-jumbo once we finish the movie and have sex.”

The last item on his agenda snags your attention as you swing your legs onto the cushion, its stuffing poking out from beneath its worn fabric. “Excuse me?” You cock a brow in disbelief.

“As compensation for the three minutes you spent neglecting me,” he explains with a shrug. “‘S only fair.”

“Sure. You usually only need three minutes anyway.” You lift your foot to dig it into his side, but he grabs it before you can tickle him, playfully bringing it towards his open mouth as though threatening to bite it. 

To be honest, you wouldn’t put it past him.

“Best three minutes of your goddamn life.” His smirk makes a triumphant reappearance as he stands up and pads over to the kitchen. The refrigerator light illuminates him in a bright glow, a juxtaposing halo on the man wearing a shirt with a cartoon devil plastered on the front. “Wayne took all of the beer with him, but we have Mountain Dew, some orange juice that I think is still good…oh, here it is!” He rummages through the top shelf and pulls out the last can of Diet Coke, the one he’d shoved towards the back so no one drank it before you could.

You shoot him a grateful smile that he returns easily. He plucks two mugs off of the wall, both of them gag gifts he’d given to his uncle, pouring Mountain Dew in one with Ask Me About My Nuts spelled out in bolts and screws and your soda in one with a three-dimensional pair of breasts jutting out from the body.

“I ran out of, like, nice cups,” he says sheepishly, likely referring to any container that didn’t allude to body parts. “Is this okay?”

“Perfect.” 

Eddie sets the drinks down on the snack table, careful not to spill on your notebook. “Okay, pretty girl. C’mere.” He places a throw pillow on his lap and pats it, signaling that it’s time for you to assume the prime cuddling position. 

As soon as you rest your head, his hand finds its home on your upper arm. His thumb, calloused but gentle, makes gentle strokes that have both of your hearts beating slowly and in sync.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

You roll over so you can see the stubble that’s starting to prickle along his cheeks, jawline, and under his chin. “You forgot about the movie. And the snacks.”

He groans, using his free palm to rub his nose in frustration. It’s one of the cutest habits he has, and part of you always wonders if he does it just to make you smile. 

“‘M too comfy to move,” he grumbles, peering down at you with a guilty expression. 

“Me, too,” you agree. “But…snacks.”

Eddie chuckles, stretching to grab something from his side of the sofa. “We’ve got this,” he says as he procures a half-eaten can of vanilla frosting. “I swear I just opened it last night. And we can just talk until we fall asleep, like we did when we first started dating.”

The memory floods your body with warmth. Even before the two of you became a couple, when you and Eddie were only friends, you would often stay up on the phone until your consciousness gave way. No conversation topic was off-limits; on one night when he’d been more than a bit tipsy, he’d divulged some of his more…private preferences. 

“So she spit in your mouth?”

“Mhm.”

“And you like that?” 

“Abso-fuckin-lutely, Sweetheart.”

Neither of you know where tonight will take you. Maybe you’ll become a familiar tangle of limbs, trading sloppy kisses and murmured sweet nothings. Maybe the sugar from the frosting will rejuvenate one of you enough to actually put the VHS in the player. Maybe you’ll just soak in each other’s softness, letting comfort envelop you until your eyelids become too heavy to keep up.

Wherever you go, you and Eddie will get there together.

--

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things #fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff

[ipsomaniac]

hi lol

#dont know what the squiggles on my forehead are supposed to be. a crown of branches to adorn my prominent brow ridge #i went off makeup for years cos i was afraid of looking feminine #but im playing around with it again and its fun #the rule is it has to be weird and stupid makeup #my friend got me this watercolour makeup and it's great cos it's water soluble so you just splash your face and its gone #no cost #more messing around for me

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“So… what happens if Walter buys us out?” Timothy asks, a confused squiggle in his brow that hasn’t lessened for the entirety of the conversation.

“Well, we won’t be out on the street,” your mother says, “and your father will be taken care of. We can send him to The Gardens. He’ll be comfortable there… we can visit.”

You bite on your knuckle, gnawing anxiously. Timothy frowns and rubs his chin, a sparseness of new stubble there. He sniffs as he tries to unravel the riddle.

“Does that mean he’s my boss?”

“Well, more of a landlord,” your mom explains, “he’ll help with the farming and take his cut. If he does this, he’ll have to cut back at the mill. It’s a big sacrifice. For everyone.”

Timothy nods and drops his hand to twiddle against the table, “it sounds like a good idea.”

“Yeah… it’s our only idea,” your mom murmurs.

“What are the terms?” You ask suddenly, hiding the ridged marks in your finger left by your teeth. “He’s going to let us pay rent? On a whole farm?”

“If the bank gives him good news,” she rubs her palms together, “I don’t know. We need more information but we can hope.” Her voice quavers as she brings the tissue back to her nose, “I only ever want to do what’s best for you two.”

“Ma,” you reach out to touch her elbow, “we can help. We’ll pull together. All of us, with or without Walter.”

“I hope we can,” she snivels and begins to weep again.

You look at Timothy. He looks gaunt. He’s absolutely terrified. No matter how hard you try, you can’t see him doing it himself. He isn’t ready to take over for your dad. You don’t know if he ever will be.

You turn back to your mom as her shoulders shake. She looks little better than Timothy and you bet, if you glanced in a mirror, you would be much the same. This can’t all fall on her. She’s had to deal with so much so far.

“Tim, what’s wrong with the truck?” You ask suddenly, your mother and brother flinching at the same time.

“What?” He stammers.

“What’s wrong with it? Is it running?”

“Yeah, kinda, it stalls out but you just gotta give it a few.”

“Ma, how long?”

“What?” She rasps.

“How long do we have? Without Walter, just us. How long do we have to figure this out?”

She lowers her head and takes a deep breath. Her voice cracks, “six months.”

You cringe and try to show the impact as her answer threatens to knock you over. You lay your hands gently on the table and stand. You leave them and go into the living room where your father sits, staring and still. You pull up the short footstool from in front of the couch and sit by him.

You’re silent as you watch him. His eyes are glazed, his features are slack and emotionless, he doesn’t even know you’re there. He is a ghost. You put your hand on his, begging him to smile, begging him to crack a joke. Your heart swells then shrinks down so small it hurts.

“Dad,” you whisper and squeeze his hand, “I love you.”

You stand and kiss his cheek. He doesn’t react. You see your mother in the doorway. She watches with arms folded but doesn’t say a word as you cross the room. Neither do you.

You pass into the hallway and march down to the front door. You slip your feet into your shoes and snatch the keys off the hook. Your mom always said you were a daddy’s girl and your dad always told you that no matter how shitty it is, you do what needs to be done for the family. At the end of the day, it’s the only thing you can count on.

You leave without looking back. A tremor rolls through you as you open up the garage. You just need the truck to make it there, that’s it. You climb in the front seat and twist the ignition, chanting desperate pleas until it catches. The engine rumbles and you hit the gas, surging out before you can think better of this.

Your mother watches through the window as you steer away from the house. You lean over the wheel as the headlights shine over the dark country landscape. You’ve never been up that way but you know where you’re going.

Tap, tap, tap. At first you panic, thinking the engine’s sputtering out. Then the droplets turn to rivulets and the rain pours down, streaming over the windshield as you flip on the wipers. You’re at the edge of the seat, clutching the wheel tight as the belt strains across your chest.

The tires suck in the mud as the countryside turns boggish. You rock with the truck as it chuffs over the slickening earth, slowing with the incline of the next hill. Not much further. Almost there.

There’s a sudden pop and a chortle that rattles the truck. You yipe as the engine putters out and the headlights dim. You feel the world rolling backwards. You yank on the emergency brake, the old Ford lurching to a halt. You slam your hands on the thin steering wheel and lean your head against the cool leather.

Just a little further.

You raise your head, looking forward at the black road then at the rearview at the void. You’ve come this far. You take the keys and pull on the handle, letting yourself out in the whipping rains. The cold shower soaks through you in an instant as you slip through the mud, arms pumping as you take the last of the hill in a half-sprint.

You’re gulping and gasping as you come in sight of a single light. A rectangle of yellow, the only beacon amid the storm. Your teeth chatter as you will yourself onward. Your feet splash and you tumble over the bumpy ground, staggering and stumbling towards the dark house.

You fall against the stairs and heave, shaking as you fight for air. You put your feet under you and push yourself up. You stamp onto the first step, then the next, and the next. You catch the door frame and heave as you hear noise from within.

You grip the handle of the screen door but before you can pull it back, the door within opens and amber light spills into the blackness. You stare through the mesh as Walter’s broad silhouette towers over you. You gasp up at him and touch the screen.

“I’m sorry,” you eke out through a shiver.

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #au #backwoods au #drabble #series #night hunter #the farmer's daughter

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

5K! Wow, that's so incredible, and I'm so happy for you!!! Congratulations omg

I was wondering if I could request a drabble of Mr Soap MacTavish (2022) where the reader is fixing up his wounds, and he's just staring at the reader with the biggest heart eyes and that's when he says "I love you" for the first time???

—Heart-Eyes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Being a medic wasn't pretty, but when your boyfriend was the subject under your needle you can't help but enjoy his unwavering gaze. Today, he has something to share with you.] ❞

You sigh and slip on your sterile gloves, hearing the snap of the latex as they conform to your flesh in all of their blue, tight glory. 

“I warned you they would pull,” your voice levels, exasperation making lines spring to life on your forehead and squiggle. “Do you ever listen to me?” 

“Always, Dearie.” The Scot behind you holds a rag to his head, blood dripping off the corner and slipping down his arm. On his square face, he holds a small smirk. “Now, what I didn’t expect was a madman rushin’ me as he did—didn’t mean to rip all of your stitches, but I was more worried about the knife two inches from my damn eye, if ya understand.” 

You fight down a smile, rolling your eyes before grabbing the handle of the utility cart and turning to face Johnny—raising a teasing brow in the process. 

“I’m fond of my sutures, MacTavish. I hope you know that I’m highly offended right now.” Lips twitching, the mohawked man tilts his head, leaning against the examination table still in gear and with his free hand situated at his neck; handing off his vest’s collar. 

“I’m sure there’s still at least one under here that’ll call to your expertise, Ma’am.”

“There better,” you mumble, fake glaring at your boyfriend of one year. He chuckles, reaching out a hand as you come near and drag your cart with you. 

As if it’s a chore, you sigh loudly and let him bring you into his arms. Your grip wraps around his waist and you sag into the wide frame and his natural warmth—Johnny’s hand spans your back, firm as his thumb lightly moves up and down. 

His sapphire blues soften as he stares down at you, stubble moving back in a smile. You rest your chin on his chest as he lightly presses the rag deeper into his forehead. 

“It’ll scar,” you say slowly. “Especially if it got even more damaged by the fall.” 

“Ah,” he whispers, breath hitting your head as your lashes flutter. Johnny’s chest grumbles with every word, accent deep and rich. “Think I’ll be just as handsome, then? That’s all that’s going to matter.”

You laugh at the exaggeration, lips peeling in a grin. “The most handsome, Johnny. It’s surprising that the entire world doesn’t stand still when you enter a room. Add in another face scar and people will faint when they come near.”

The Scot huffs, but a sheepish sheen splays over his cheeks, and a giddy smile grows when you call him handsome.

“Knew I wasn’t the only one that thought it.” Sharing a laugh, you pull back. The man pouts before you lightly hit his thigh with the back of your hand. 

“Hey!” Johnny grunts out. “Watch the arm, Hen, it’ll leave a mark—”

You kiss him with a grin, feeling the man start forward to meet you with no hesitation and sigh deeply, stubble scratching against your skin in the most delicious way possible. His arm grabs onto your hip and the rag at his flesh loosens—the blood drip-drip-dripping as his fingers dig into your scrubs. 

When his teeth nip your lip, you chuckle into his mouth and lean out of his hold to reach for your supplies. Johnny frowns in false disappointment but still yields to you when you carefully take away his soiled rag to stare at the damage. 

A bloody mess of open skin forms a head wound that makes your face dip with seriousness. Humming in your throat, you lightly touch the area as Johnny winces. You utter an apology and kiss his hand as it comes up to brush at your cheek, unable to be away from you.

“Hm,” the Scot doesn't notice his flinch when you numb the area, the needle digging into the thin skin. All he sees is you. 

“Bad?” He asks, letting you slant from in between his legs and grab the saline solution.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Big Guy.” Softly staring, you prep the area for sutures, oblivious to the pair of eyes that conform to a delicate roundness of tender affection. Like the contents of a great love poem of old, Johnny is distracted from the pain by your supple touch—breathing in your scent like a field of wildflowers as your body lay in his easy clutch. 

Humming a tune under your breath, you let Johnny’s arms encase you, not minding the left-over blood he spreads as your needle driver moves a sterilized needle through lightly tanned flesh. Tissue forceps grab and manipulate where you see fit, but your attention is solely focused on getting your Lover better. 

Johnny breathes deeply, barely feeling the pressure of the digging point. When you’re about halfway done, the man grunts out the easiest words he’s ever uttered to light.

“I love you, Little Lady.” Your eyes flash to a widened stare into his held skin, the needle poking out of his bloody mess of glistening redness. 

It was no trial to anyone to see how much you two loved each other—the entire base was aware of your relationship; the other nurses relentlessly teased you when the only help Johnny would accept was from you or your head doctor. And the Scot had said multiple times the only reason that the doctor was in his book was that, if the injury was beyond what you were allowed to work on, you’d be unable to help unless the individual was there. 

It was in the touches, the kisses filled with warmth and reverence—the way he looked at you. A blind man could notice it just by the way he talked about you on Leave if you weren’t able to join. 

“She’d like that.”

“My Hen would lose her head over this; let me get a picture.”

“Hell’s bells, wait a moment—need to buy this for my Dearie. She’ll put it to good use.”

And you, of course, leaned into him with equal worship whenever able. Reveled in his great weight at night as his head rested on your stomach, Johnny’s body between your legs and lips muttering into your flesh in a deep sleep on his chest. Arms so tight around you his biceps would gain size as if he was flexing and not just pressing you up into him.

But this was the first. 

The first confession. The first declaration of love. 

You don’t know why, but saying it made it feel so much more real. 

Your eyes slide to the side, looking into those deep blues with all of their loveliness; their hues and flecks of stars trapped like ocean waves dancing in moonlight. Wisps of stories you’d yet to uncover. Blinking, your expression evens out as the minute stretches—that look on the man’s face still staying. 

You chuckle softly. 

“Took you long enough, MacTavish.” 

A breathless kiss. A shuttered exhale. 

“...Then I’ll be sure to make you never doubt it.”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird , @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

#cod #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #cod mw22 #x female reader #mw2 #mw2 2022 #call of duty x you #cod x female reader #x fem!reader #tw: gore #tw: injury #tw: wounds #soap call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #johhny soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #cod mw2 #john mactavish #mw x reader

[my-love-is-sunlight]

Law the muse

fluff drabble + gn reader

Masterlist

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Law was a workaholic, you knew this better than anyone. Since the dawn of time you had tried relentlessly to change his habits, worrying about his wellbeing and craving his presence and attention. Regardless, your good intentions had gotten you nowhere, so this is how now you find yourself tucked away at your special corner in Law’s office. A comfy sofa and a nightstand with a beautiful lamp and cozy pillows the doctor had put together for you to be alone together with him.

Suddenly, he has become very aware how you had been sketching away in your notebook for a while now, every now and then catching your gaze on his form and sometimes, when he disappeared from your field for vision, your pencil would stop and wait for him to position himself back on his desk. Curiosity gnaws at him as he sees you completely fixated on your work

“What are you doing?” his voice breaks your focus and makes your eyes jump and stare directly at his direction

“What do you mean?” Your attention diverts coming back to your task at hand, brows furrowed in complete concentration, an antic of yours the Captain always noted to be quite endearing

“You have been squiggling for quite a while now” his remark makes you hold the sketchbook closer to you, a strong pink blush sitting on your cheeks makes Law even more curious

Before you can even explain yourself, your dear sketchbook disappears from your lap in a swift move from Trafalgar’s hand, now appearing on his desk

“HEY!” In a hurry you scream and get up storming to his place saying something about privacy and betrayal, Law doesn’t register any of the things you’re saying as his eyes land on a beautiful drawing of him working at his desk

He is quite surprised by how well you had captured his essence and the noticeable knowledge of anatomy and lighting on the piece. Even though it was just pencil and paper, he couldn’t help but find it quite homely, your feeling of the scene bleeding through the work

He can’t help the sweet smile that forms on his lips, a strange warm feeling forming at the center of his being. He feels flattered and quite proud, his ego boosted by the way you perceive him and the cute little hearts you added at the side of the drawing

“Give it back you thief!” Was the last thing he heard before you snatched the sketchbook out of his grasp

“It’s amazing” Law stares at you with a softness you rarely got to see on him, one only reserved behind closed doors

Holding your sketchbook to your chest covering the drawing, you mumble a shy “Thanks”

“Didn’t know I was your muse” he teases after seeing your obvious fluster

Your face went from pink to red in an instant making Law laugh before he tries to take the sketchbook from your tight hold. You allowed him to set it on the desk again, defeated

“You’re really good, don’t know why you’re hiding this for me”

You look at your drawing and then finally meet his gaze “I just never had such a handsome model” you say trying to turn the dynamic around but failing, feeling even more fluster after a smirk plasters on his face

“Can I have it?”

“It’s not finished”

“It’s perfect just as it is” his words makes your heart flip, Law being the first person to ever acknowledge your talent, you nod sheepishly before his arms wrap around you, his head looking up at your flushed face

“Quite the talented artist I have here”

The next morning as you enter Laws office, coffee mug in hand, you can’t help but feel so loved after spotting your drawing framed on his desk

#one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #law x you #trafalgar law x you #law imagine #trafalgar law imagine #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law one piece #law one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x y/n #law x y/n #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #drabble #law fluff #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar law fluff

[tare-anime]

Yor never had any valuable jewelry, until her husband bought one for her. (AO3, Comedy, Fluff, Rings, Pre-reveal)

--------------------------------------

Yor is sitting near the pond at the mall. 

They are currently on their “scheduled date to maintain true couple persona”. Yor is currently waiting for Loid who has been going to buy them a refreshment after roaming around the mall. 

Yor is very grateful for the small break. Because after “working overtime” for 4 consecutive nights, she is quite tired. She has put on her most convincing smile throughout their date, but it seems Loid can still see the underlying tiredness in her. 

No, Yor!! Don’t be ungrateful!! She shakes her head vehemently. Loid is tired too, but he is still going on with the schedule. 

She then slaps her cheeks. Come on! Be more energetic!

“Oh my gosh!! This is truly very pretty, darling!!”

A squeal of delight coming from her left makes Yor turns her head to observe the source.

A couple has just exited a jewelry store. The woman is admiring the gem on her finger while at the same time nuzzling the man. 

“Nothing but the best for my dear darling!” Yor hears the man return the gesture.

Soon after they share a very passionate kiss that Yor’s face feels warm and she has to avert her eyes. 

Is giving gifts and kissing in public a normal thing for couples to do?? She puts both of her palms on her cheeks, hoping to ease the warmth there before Loid returns.

Suddenly she gasps when she remembers the day’s conversation at the break room of City Hall. 

“Look at this new necklace and earrings my boyfriend bought me!!” Millie squealed in delight.

“It’s a cheap imitation.” Sharon answered uninterestedly, puffing out smoke through the opened window.

“It’s the intention that matters the most!” Millie chirped.

“Right. And that is exactly the sign that he is cheating.” Camilla scoffed and yet she eyed the jewelry intently.

“You guys are just jealous because your partners didn’t buy you anything.” Millie looked at her reflection in the mirror and aligned her head right to left. “Look at Yor-senpai. She didn’t find this strange because her gorgeous husband must’ve bought her plenty of things, right??”

“Ah.. uh….” Yor blabbered her answers when three pairs of eyes focused on her.

Returning to the present, Yor's mouth squiggles. Oh no! Loid and I never buy each other anything. Does this make us suspicious??

Yor dreadfully look at the Jewelry Store. Maybe I should–...

“Sorry for waiting, Yor.” 

“GAAHH!!” Yor jumps in her seat upon hearing Loid’s soft voice. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–...” Loid is taken aback.

“No no no !! It’s alright. I was just spacing out.” She forces a smile.

Loid tilts his head and gives her the drink, “Are you tired?”

Accepting the drink Yor immediately denies, “No! Not at all. I was just…” She glances at the jewelry store. “I just remembered that at City Hall today….”

She shakes her head. No, Yor. Don’t be silly. You can’t just buy Loid anything. You haven’t asked whether Loid is comfortable with wearing any jewelry. 

And thus she smiles at Loid and says, “Nevermind. So, where are we going next?” 

But Loid is seen following her gaze and then he asks, “Shall we take a look?”

Yor is aghast, “No! That’s not what I meant. There were a couple that–...”

“To be honest, I’ve been thinking of buying you a ring for a long time,” He cuts her and smiles, “And now may be the best moment.” 

Yor wrings her hand, “No need. You already gave me a ring.”

“Huh?” Loid furrows his brows, “I don’t think I ever give you…??”

“That night. After Cammila’s party. When we were…uumm” Yor’s suddenly finds her heart beating faster when she recites the moment when they exchange their vows. 

Loid’s face dawns and he whispers, “You keep that?”

“Of course!” Yor exclaims, “You gave it to me!”

She sees how his mouth moves through clenched jaw before he says, “We shall go to the store right now. I insist.”

Yor confusedly answers, “But I–...”

“It’s a very normal thing a couple do, Yor.” Loid suddenly turns serious, “If I don't do it, people might get suspicious about us.”

Yor gasps. So what Millie said was true after all!! 

With new determination, Yor nods and stands up 

Both of them then march to the jewelry store.

.

“Something caught your interest, Ma’am?” Yor turns to look at the elderly woman who happens to run the store.

She bites her lower lips and mumbles, “I’m not sure. All of these are sparkling and beautiful.”

Yor furrows her brows hard. I never really had any jewelry before. Which one should I choose? A good value for money? The most sparkling one? The one that can be used as a secret weapon?? 

Loid tries to help her, “Perhaps you can arrange a custom-made one?”

“Absolutely, Sir! Please kindly sit here and wait for a moment.” The woman gestures to the stools at the corner of the store and hastily goes to the inner part of the shop.

Yor’s eyes bulge. “Wait, Loid. That might be-...”

“You can have something more to your liking that way, no?” He smiles gently and leads Yor to sit down with him.

Yor nods at his logic. 

Before long the shop owner comes back and sits in front of them. She then carefully places a tray covered in black velvet at the table in front of them. On top of the tray lay numerous gems in different cutting and colors. 

Yor’s jaw drops in awe. “Wow…..”

“We can start by choosing the stone that you like, Ma’am.” The shop owner gestures at the gems.

Yor glances at the elder lady before licking her lips nervously and focusing on the gems in front of her.

I never thought buying jewelry would be this difficult! She internally shouts in frustration.

After several seconds of silence, the shop owner chimes, “May I suggest some advice?”

Yor looks at her pleadingly, “Please do!!”

The elder woman smiles gently, “While it’s true the stones are different by their values, their color, or even their cutting, it doesn't define how one chooses their lucky stones. Just choose your favorite one. The one that can give you courage. The one that can be your good luck charm. That is the best way to choose your treasures.”

Yor blinks when she tries to comprehend the advice.

Soon after, Loid chimes from her side, “For example, you can choose the stone according to your favorite color.” 

She turns her head and looks at her husband who smiles supportively to her right, while hearing the shop lady agree with him, “That is such a wonderful example, Sir!”

Favorite colors, huh? She muses while looking directly at Loid’s eyes.

Yor looks back at the shop owner and whispers, “Then, do you have a gem that’s the same color as his eyes?”

At the same time, she hears Loid sputters, and the shop owner squeals.

Huh??! What?? Did I say something wrong?? 

“Oh my. Oh my. OH MY!!! Of course, I have, dear!!” the shop owner practically screeches in delight and runs to the back of the shop, “Wait here!” 

Yor is truly confused by the commotion happening around her.

“Yo-... Yor?? Are you sure that is the color that you want?”

Yor turns her attention back to her husband, and she nods. “Yes. I’ve always loved how your eyes are like the clear water of the ocean. They are beautiful. Calm. Peaceful. And… I’ve always felt accepted when I look at them.” 

Suddenly, Loid clamps his mouth as his face turns a shade of red. 

Oh no!! I really did something wrong, didn't I?? Loid must be angry with me!! Yor flabbergast. Immediately she tries to backpedal, “No, Loid I’m sor–...”

“Here are my collections!” The shop owner returns with vigor and puts another tray in front of them. “They range from the modest to the best to the–..”

“I’m sorry, I think I’ll–...”

Before she can muster the sentence, Loid slams the table and slides his card to the shop owner. 

He then growls, “The best one. Give my wife the best stone you have!!”

The shop owner’s eyes glint as she nods vigorously, “Of course, Sir!”

Huh??? 

.

That day, they ended up buying a very beautiful stone and even made a custom ring, whose design was consulted with Yor for several days until she granted her assent.

Today, Yor is vibrating with excitement when she returns home from her latest assignment which made her return home later than usual. 

It’s too bad that Anya has gone to bed so she cannot share the excitement with the child, but she can always show it to her daughter later. 

After a quick shower, she immediately joins Loid in their living room for their nightly tea routine.

Still giddy, she sits on her usual spot on the loveseat and shows him the small velvet box. 

“Oh! It’s done already?” Loid smiles. 

Yor smiles brightly and nods. “It is!!”

“Have you tried it?”

She shakes her head, “Not yet.” 

She then smiles brightly and rambles, “I’ve seen the design and it’s gorgeous. I’m sure the real thing will be even more beautiful. So I want to show you first. And I want you to be the one who put it–..”

She halts her tongue. 

Wait wait, Yor!! If you ask Loid to put the ring on your finger, doesn’t it mean…..

All of a sudden she remembers a romantic scene from Berlint in Love. It was such a peak romantic and fulfilling scene that Yor can’t help but shed a tear in happiness for the two characters. 

And that might be also what nudges her to have the silly idea of asking Loid in the first place. It sounds like a good idea at first, but….. 

Her heart starts to beat faster and faster. 

She grips the box hard and looks at the floor. Oh no. Oh No! I should–...

“Yor.”

She snaps her head at her husband. “Y–... yes??”

“May I?” He kneels in front of her, opening his palm up.

Since when did he??? 

Her lip squiggles. “Uuuh… maybe… maybe it’s best if….”

He tugs at the box. “Please?”

Yor forcefully relaxes her finger, letting Loid take the box from her. 

He then opens the box with one hand, while his other hand gently takes her left hand.

Yor feels her chest about to burst. 

Her face feels extremely hot. 

When she feels the cold ring touch her finger, she flinches. 

She cannot take it any longer so she shuts her eyes. 

She is focusing so hard to hold back her violent reflexes, especially when she feels Loid’s reverent touch as he slides the ring onto her finger. 

After what felt like forever, Yor finally felt the ring settle perfectly on her finger. 

For some unknown reason, the sensation makes her tremble. 

“Yor. Breathe….”

“Phwaaaahh….” She lets go of the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

She can hear Loid’s whispers. “You can open your eyes too.”

Slowly Yor opens her eyes and immediately she comes face to face with Loid, who for some reason flushes red. 

“Beautiful.” 

Yor blinks. “Huh?”

Loid gulps, “The-... The ring. Look.” 

Yor looks down and gasps. 

She then lifts her hand to observe the ring under their living room’s lamp. 

Yor really is in awe. The ring truly is beautiful. And… “It does have the same color as your eye ” 

Loid splutters.

“Loid?”

“Te–.. Tea??” 

Just like that time, Loid is seen clamping his mouth and his face turns extremely red. “Are you alright, Loid?”

He nods stiffly and returns to his seat in an awkward motion.

His odd behavior concerns Yor, but if the man says that he’s alright, then Yor has to believe him. 

She clutches at her finger as she smiles. “Thank you so much, Loid. I’ll treasure this forever!”

Despite his condition, her husband manages to smile brightly and nods.

------------

I was enchanted when I watched 7th Time Loop anime, that I hunted down the light novel. After reading these particular scenes, that made me squeal and wrung my leg like a schoolgirl, I knew I HAD to make the TwiYor version. ^^

#spy x family #yor forger #loid forger #twiyor #sxf fic #spy x family fanfic #fluff #comedy #ring #my late valentine 2024 entry #🥰🥰🥰🥰

[st-danger]

Dew: paint me like one of your french girls (joke)

Swiss: okay (not joke)

Dew: embarrassed and flushed and hard as hell as he sits while Swiss draws him. Nothing more than an object to be captured on paper (he’s never been more turned on)

He's never hidden his pens and art books, but he's never advertised it either. It's just something Swiss does, the sketching. Scenes from the tour bus. Scenery. Sometimes nothing at all but shapes and squiggles filling an entire page just because he can.

To be the centre of his attention in general makes Dew preen. To be the sole focus like this is an overwhelming and decadent kind of thing, he thinks.

Inspected, observed. A vehicle for Swiss to use as a creative outlet.

"Legs spread," Swiss says, again. "Don't hide. Let me see it."

Dew leans back on the bed, locking his arms behind him, and parts his legs.

"Good. Hold that," Swiss murmurs, sounding almost distracted alongside the push and pull of the pencil. Long, loose lines Dew can't wait to see. Under the approval, Dew feels familiar heat low in his belly.

"Like the view?" he can't help but ask, tilting his head and gifting Swiss with a wry smile.

"It's nice," Swiss agrees and Dew rolls his eyes.

"It's more than nice," he corrects. He knows what he looks like; he doesn't feel it egotistical in the least to acknowledge that the form he wears Above Ground is an attractive one. Swiss allows a knowing smirk, a brief flash before his concentration is back, face carefully neutral once more.

"Stroke it for me," he says, like it's a normal request, casual. Dew draws a breath, pleased. His left hand moves from the bed and comes to rest on his chest. Slowly, slowly, Dew lets his fingers trail down his sternum, his belly. Showy and unnecessary, but Swiss is here to observe and enjoy; far be it from Dew to deny him. He sees the way Swiss's eyes follow the lines he draws, down further, brushing over a hint of hair below his navel, down to the patch of hair at the base of his cock. Finally, curling around his shaft, holding himself in a loose fist. It's teasing, his movements. Light. At odds with how heavy he's leaning back in his right hand to hold him up.

The pencil scratches against the paper and Dew plays with himself.

He feels less like he's under a spotlight in stage and more like he's under a microscope. The intensity with which Swiss is staring at him, at every turn of his wrist- he always gets flushed when aroused. Always. And it will spill down his neck, onto his chest as it always does. He wonders if Swiss will shade him darker there.

"You can go faster," Swiss says after a few minutes of Dew's lazy toying. He agrees, of course, but,

"Is that a suggestion or is that what the artist requires?" he drawls. Swiss looks up from the page with dark eyes.

"If you're gonna sit for this, I need full cooperation." Dew feels a frission of pleasure zing down his spine.

"Of course," he agrees, hand tightening, working himself faster, dick filling out quicker. "Wouldn't want to disrupt your...creative process."

"'Course not," Swiss replies. The sketchbook is held steady in his lap. "You're a good boy."

If Dew were to, say, let out a hint of a pained moan, Swiss doesn't acknowledge it.

He pulls at himself in even, measured pumps, fully hard in little time at all and chewing on his lip. Swiss avoids his eyes, looking only over his naked body or the paper in his lap. Not seeing him for him. He's an object to be appreciated, and Dewdrop so loves to be adored.

It's a thrill.

He knows under the sketchbook, Swiss is hard. He's thick and heavy in his pants, and he's adjusted his posture twice in the chair, subtly uncomfortable. Dew enjoys this particular brand of suffering for himself, and it's made all the sweeter for knowing he isnt the only one. He can't stop himself from pushing his hips into his fist.

"Stay still," Swiss chides.

He stops stroking, lets go, and his stiffy sways. Swiss raises a brow.

"It's hard," Dew shrugs. "You want me still-"

"Hold it."

Dew stares for a moment, and then wraps his fingers around the base, squeezing.

"Hold it still?"

Swiss does not respond, merely goes back to short strokes on the page and Dew waits for any further instruction. It doesn't come. A long, silent minute passes.

"Tip wet yet?" Swiss asks, not even looking up from the page. Dew swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

"Not yet," he says.

"Let me know when it is."

#st-speaks #ghost #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #ghost fanfiction #ghost headcanons #swiss ghoul #sodo ghoul #dew ghoul #swiss/dew #swiss x dew #swiss/sodo #swiss x sodo #swiss/dewdrop #swiss x dewdrop

[miasmaghoul]

May I offer a headcnon?

Blind Zephyr

Thoughts, both solo and with Mountain below. Nothing explicit, but implied horny things in the distance.

Not completely blind, but their vessel has some unfixable eye impairment that limits sight and progressively worsens. That's why they were a band ghoul for such a brief period, their eyesight tanked after the tour ended. Eventually they end up functionally blind, just able to make out shapes and colors but nothing close to detail.

They adapt fairly well, but they do end up relying on the others a bit more at first. Especially Mountain, who's easiest to pick out in a crowd. Zephyr isn't a huge fan of siblings, and they've made the mistake of assuming a sister is Dew three times too many, so it's easier to look for the blob of beige that they know to be Mountain’s antlers.

Mountain doesn't mind.

He doesn't baby Zephyr the way Aether sometimes does, and he doesn't use kid gloves the way Dew and Ifrit tend to. Mountain is easy, honest. Helpful without being overbearing, doesn't presume to do things that Zephyr certainly can on their own. He waits for them to ask, and Zephyr is always silently appreciative.

They wish they could see more of his handsome face, though. Wish they could count the freckles speckled over his nose and cheeks for the hundredth time, that they could admire the squared off edges of his pupils and that one auburn streak in his hair.

But their memory will have to suffice - though Mountain never objects to letting Zephyr touch his face when they need a reminder. To bring the ridge of his brow and the hump on his nose back into sharper relief in their head.

Touching that, of course, never stops at Mountain's face.

Zephyr insists on facing him whenever they fall into bed, regardless of who's doing what. Mountain assured them that he will always look into their eyes, even if they cant see him, and Zephyr believes him.

After, Mountain will read to them. That's the one thing Zephyr misses more than any other, even more than their keys - being able to squirrel themself away into a nook in the library with a thermos of tea and a good book. But Mountain's voice is lovely, and the way his chest vibrates under Zephyr's ear is so soothing. Like this, they can forget their loss for a minute.

Mountain traces shapes into their skin while he reads, and Zephyr memorizes every one - hearts and stars and Z's and M's and nonsensical squiggles. Sometimes Zephyr will ask how a character's name is spelled, and Mountain will write it on their back while he spells it out loud.

Zephyr always drifts off faster than they intend to, but it's unavoidable. Mountain will finish out his chapter and they'll settle down, face to face, with Zephyr's hand over Mountain's heart. Just a reminder. Zephyr knows they don't have to, but they always thank Mountain for everything. He'll shush them, always, kiss their cheek, and for a second Zephyr will SWEAR they can see him.

They sleep the best those nights.

#miasma's work #the band ghost headcanons #zephyr ghoul #mountain ghoul #mountzeph #zephtain #mountain/zephyr #mountain x zephyr #idk its been on my mind for a while now

[imagineredwood]

6. Strawberries 🍓

Summary: Just because you and Coco broke up, doesn’t mean you won’t have a Valentine. You son will make sure of that.

Pairing: Coco Cruz x female ex reader

Warnings: angst if you squint but also comfort, co parenting, breakup

Word count: 937

A/n: Dont know what it is about this trope but it just gets my feet kicking every time 😭 Took inspo from that fic I wrote a while ago about Coco and the readers son telling coco that mommy has a new ‘friend’ but made this one less toxic lol

Coco smiled as he watched his son messily spray the cool whip on top of his pancake, turning to face his dad with a proud smile.

“Look! Can you see it?”

Coco glanced down at the pancake, the cool whip placed in squiggles across the top.

“I can.”

“What is it??”

His son grinned wide, waiting for his dad to compliment his art, but Coco awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing what the hell it was supposed to be.

“It’s a…smile face?”

The boy’s smile faded some as he looked down at his pancake before looking back at Coco with confusion.

“No, it’s a sailboat.”

Coco nodded enthusiastically, his smile bright.

“Ah. I see it now. It’s beautiful, Mijo.”

The child’s grin returned again, too young to dwell on the face that Coco didn’t see a sailboat anywhere on that pancake. His focus was on something else now as he bounced on his feet, eyes pleading up at his father.

“Can I have strawberries too?”

Coco winced, knowing he didn’t have any in the fridge. He barely ever bought produce if he was being honest. He was getting into the habit of buying more veggies now that you had been leaving your son over for the weekends more recently. He had a bag of frozen mixed vegetables and a half empty carton of blueberries that would be shriveling up any day now, but no strawberries.

“Sorry, kid. I don’t have any. I have blueberries though.”

He shrugged, smile still on his face.

“That’s ok. Blueberries are good too.”

Coco released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and went into the fridge to grab the berries.

“We can go shopping and get some once we finish eating. That sound ok?”

His son smiled and agreed, throwing in his own request.

“Yeah, and then we can get mommy a little teddy for Valentine’s Day! It’s tomorrow I think.”

Coco laughed and nodded, digging into his own pancake as he looked at his boy.

“It is, you’re right. You want to get mommy a teddy? What color?”

The carbon copy of Coco tilted his head back and forth as he chewed and thought.

“A white one. With a pink heart that says I love you.”

Coco smiled, knowing that your son loved you more than he loved anything else on the planet.

“I think that sounds great.”

“Me too. She doesn’t have a Valentine this year so I think that would make her happy.”

The light and fun energy dipped as a pang hit Coco’s chest. He didn’t let his son notice though, forcing his smile to stay right where it was. It was true. You hadn’t been with anyone since the split. Your focus had been on your son and work, no time for dating, at least that was what you had said. Valentine’s Day had always been one of your favorites and while it hadn’t really been Coco’s thing, he had indulged you every single one of the 6 years the two of you had been together. Your split had happened around 10 months ago now and while things were cordial and friendly, your interactions not regarding your son had been kept to a minimum. This would be the first time in years that you wouldn’t have a valentine and Coco was sure you wouldn’t be celebrating it seeing as you would be alone, this week Coco’s week. He decided then that he wouldn’t allow it and patted his hand gently on the counter.

“Hurry and finish up, then we’ll go to the store and buy a bunch of stuff for mommy, ok? We’ll surprise her tomorrow.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your brows furrowed as you heard the knock on your door. It was around noon, and you weren’t expecting anyone. You picked up your phone and touched the screen, no missed calls or texts. A soft knock sounded again, and you stood, wearily going to the door and pulling it open. Your apprehension evaporated as you saw the boys there hand in hand, a bouquet of red roses in Coco’s empty hand, a fluffy white teddy bear in your son’s. Your smile was ear to ear as you bent down, your son letting go of Coco’s hand to hug you tightly.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mommy!”

You laughed tearfully and hugged him to your chest tight.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby boy.”

You stood back up and took the bear as he held it up to you excitedly.

“Here! This is from me!”

You clutched the bear to your chest and pet it’s soft fur.

“I love it very much. Thank you.”

Eyes locking with Coco’s, he cleared his throat and held out the roses to you.

“And these are from me.”

You could feel yourself swoon, heart aching in your chest, Coco’s doing the same. You took the roses from his hand and held them to your nose, taking a deep breath.  

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

For a moment, it was as if it was only the two of you there, eyes locked, longing and sorrowful. The breakup had been mutual, for the sake of safety, but that didn’t mean it was any easier to live with. Pushing the door open, you invited them both in, Coco carrying a grocery bag as well that your son quickly grabbed and shoved towards you excitedly.

“We also got strawberries! Daddy said we could make pancakes again but with strawberries this time.”

You grinned and happily took the carton of strawberries, not bothering to mention that you already had one in the fridge. These were a thousand times better already.”

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl  @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast  @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114   @destynelseclipsa  @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben  @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester  @alexxavicry  @savagemickey03  @fanfic-n-tabulous   @gangstaliciou06

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon​  @abunnykisses​ @briana-mishell24​  @wrcn9fvlcver​  @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @krysiewithak​  @appropriate-writers-name​  @blessedboo​  @megapeacelovemusic-blog​ @emoengelfurleben​ @blowmymbackout​ @abby-splace​ @kola95​ @black-repunzel99​ @redpoodlern​  @myakai13​

@cruzwalters​  @danimals1096 @po3ticb3auty​ @lyly00​ @im-just-a-mississippi-girl​  @angel-121​ @fanfic-n-tabulous​ @90sisthenew80s​ @lovelytricia @librarian1002

#imagines #mayans mc #coco cruz x reader #coco cruz #dad!coco #valentines day drabble event #mayans imagine

[kisscara]

O5. madam faruzan who? [fanboy!scaramouche x drummer!reader] ⎯⎯ heartbeat rhythm series

you nervously fidget with your drumsticks, a coy smile on your lips as scaramouche talks to kaeya. yanfei taps your shoulder and whispers, "whenever you're ready." you rapidly nod and attempt to ease your nerves by relaxing your tense shoulders. but what if you're never ready?

you've performed in front of countless people, why can't you do the same for one guy? well, technically a group of three but you don't mind what kaeya and yanfei think. just him and him alone. you turn to yanfei, "um-" you recoil when the mic by your mouth suddenly makes a deafening squeal.

scaramouche pinches his temple, "kaeya, did you or did you not test the equipment?" kaeya puts his hands up in defense, "hey, i thought that was yanfei's job." scaramouche argues as kaeya makes his way up the stage, "her job is to set it up and yours is to test it! immature dickhead..."

kaeya sighs while wiping a hand over his face, "he can be such a pain in the ass, how could you even play along with this, (name)?" you look up at him and frown. does everyone really see scaramouche in this bad light? maybe they just need to get to know him more to take a liking to him.

kaeya gives the mic a few taps and speaks into it. "this good enough for you, mister moody?" kaeya chuckles when scaramouche gives him a deathly glare. "alright, you should be all good to go. oh and," kaeya looks at you while heading back down the steps. "try not to screw up, scaramouche can get real mad at that."

you felt yourself shatter like a clay statue hitting the floor. "oh, shut it, kaeya!" yanfei growls, knitting her brows together in frustration. she shakes her head, "don't listen to him, (name)... (name)?" your hands are shaking, causing your drumsticks to waver.

"i'm going to die today-"

"no, you won't," yanfei rolls her eyes at your dramatic act and firmly says, "you got this." you take a deep breath in and another one out. "yeah, i do. i'm ready now." you adjust your posture and sit more upright on your drum throne. scaramouche's eyes carefully scan you.

his lips form an anxious squiggle, 'they look so cool... i've always watched them on my phone or from afar but this is the real deal.' scaramouche places a hand on his chest, hoping to calm his rapid heartbeat.

as the song starts through the speakers, you begin the intro's drum riff only to be stopped by scaramouche's voice. yanfei stops the music and you tighten your grip. did you mess up already?

"is it possible if," he looks away, covering the pink tint on his face. "you could cover the vocals too?"

you gasp and beam, "yeah! i mean, yes, i could totally do that!" scaramouche clears his throat and nods, "my apologies for interrupting. you can play now." yanfei gives you a playful smirk and you smile back at her.

the music starts up again and you start drumming without a disruption unlike before. you never sang while performing, except for little background lines yun jin made you and the other members do as she led the performance per usual. but singing and drumming at the same time made you feel content.

だって本当は crazy, 白鳥たちはそう

it's like your voice was made for this specific song. everything was going well and fitting into place. scaramouche couldn't take his eyes off of you the entire time. he swore he couldn't even blink, feeling as if he would miss something groundbreaking should he look away.

見えないとこでバタ足するんです

kaeya examines scaramouche's dazed state. "he's out of it," he mutters in amusement. yanfei proudly hugs her tablet to her torso, smiling as you finally gather the courage you desperately needed for this moment.

本能に従順忠実 翻弄も重々承知 前途洋々だし⋯ だからたまに休憩しちゃうんです

sweat covers your forehead in a glistening sweat as you have the chance to rest your voice, since this part of the song is just silence filled with the instruments. your eyes avert towards the clear blue sky and then scaramouche. the two of you lock gazes.

like you do with your usual crowd when performing, you give him your signature wink along with a grin out of habit. oh, dear... he nearly passed out on the spot. with the final crash of your cymbals and banging of your drums, you finish off without a single flaw in your performance.

you're reminded of the first time you performed like this, in front of a small audience of three. those three being ayaka, her big brother who was always like your own, ayato, and their mother. they always supported your passion for drums and ayato was the one who gifted you your drum set.

you'd never forget him. he's living the high life in university at the moment, bound to graduate with a doctorate degree... more on him later. your current situation at hand is much more important!

a deafening silence is booming through the outdoors, accompanied by the peaceful songs the birds share along with the calm gusts of wind. you slowly pant, chest bobbing up and down as you exhale, "how was it?" yanfei and kaeya look over to scaramouche.

scaramouche lifts his head, his indigo hair framing his beautiful features. the way he looks at you with such confidence, a striking and powerful glare; it's no wonder you have no idea how much he so admires you. he opens his mouth and three words fall from his lips.

"it wasn't bad."

boom.

those words alone were enough to make your heart jump all over the place, your cheeks to heaten and your eyes to brighten. you exclaim, "really!?" from the surge of excitement, you instantly stand up, causing your snare drum to fall over. you quickly prop it back up and rush down the stage.

'oh, they're approaching me, they're approaching, they're approaching-' scaramouche's mind is in a jumble as you hold both of his hands in yours. his head explodes. not literally, i sure hope not. but explode... like the way a train releases puffs of smoke and steam from their cylinders going, 'choo, choo!'

yeah, that perfectly describes how he feels as you sweetly say, "i look forward to working with you on the school festival, president!"

yanfei and kaeya stifle their laughs. they saw scaramouche's, 'it wasn't bad,' as a complete disappointment for you, but you, you saw all of the good in it. that's all you needed to confirm that scaramouche indeed, has his unseen sweet side. yanfei sighs, "i'm glad it all worked out."

kaeya smugly adds, "i think president has a lil' crush, don't you think?" the two are lucky their conversation is out of scaramouche's earshot. yanfei pauses and watches as scaramouche stammers out words to you with a red complexion. you, being as dense as you are, mistaken it for him being startled by your sudden arrival.

yanfei squints her eyes and her jaw nearly drops in realization. only a fool wouldn't notice the obvious admiration you and scaramouche mutually hold for each other. how come she didn't see it before? the obvious mood change of scaramouche's and his somewhat kinder demeanor surely have a part in this.

"what? scaramouche, like me?" you ask, a brow raised as you look at yanfei. she nods, completely serious. you sputter and resort to laughing. "yeah, you almost got me there, 'fei! but i believe with a little more time and effort," you ball your fists up in determination, "i'll be his and he'll be mine in no time!"

you and the rest of the student council are at a family restaurant, under kaeya's suggestion after all the hard work they did and surprisingly, scaramouche agreed. yanfei waves her finger and closes her eyes, "no, no, (name), listen closely. i think he likes you-"

her eyelids lift as she sees scaramouche boasting about how hard it is to keep everyone in line as a president and you repeatedly comment him on his dedication to his role. yanfei deadpans, "such lovesick idiots..."

your phone vibrates in your pocket and you take it out, however you froze up the second you saw the text.

tags: @mariusvonhangme @scaramoo @mikismusings @rizakari @akagism2 @sakiimeo @ohmyfinggod @aethersluvrr @scarafrisbee @kaoyamamegami @liliumaraneae @dreamsofminnie @starfart19 @kunisbeloved @luhvashh @makiswrld @kyouzki @mimissubway @loucaroarz @theblueblub @angelunatic @shinjuuz @thenightsflower @coquettemaiden @thefandomcrow @cotton-eee @lovely028 @hrtswinter @duckyyyx @kissingkzuha @dazaisboner @adeptusx @tomotofu @yukiipc @loverhole @star583 @soobasaur @aeongiies @dr8amy @scaraapologist @raideneiari @rvoulte @aaeng121 @pyrrhicgaze @tjjjrsj @enviouspeanut @d4y-dr3am3r @aromaticism @undecidingfate @kur44pika

taglist is now closed as i've reached the max tags in a single post. (50/50 tags occupied + officially removed users whose names aren't linked)

what happens when you, a talented and well-known drummer across the web, grow an intense crush for the student council president, who's also your number one fan? from annoying sisters to nosy bandmates, the next event that happens is always more chaotic than the last!

© kisscara

#📼 — 𝓦.𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. #gender neutral reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #genshin smau #genshin imagine #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfics #genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfictions #scaramouche #genshin fluff #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche angst #genshin angst #scaramouche imagines #scaramouche smau

[giggly-squiggily]

Nailed It! (Blue Lock)

Heyo! It's been a minute since I've written for Blue Lock! After fangirling over Bachisagi with the wonderful @intheticklecloset- this fic came to be! :D I hope you like it friend! :3

Summary: Bachira finds fake nails and decides he wants claws. Shenanigans ensue.

Bachira all but threw the bag in his face the second he came in. “I bought claws!”

“Claws?” Chigiri asked once his initial shock wore off. Bachira grinned as he dug into the bag.

“CLAWS!” He cried once more, presenting the pack of stick on nails. Plain in appearance, they shined under the fluorescent lights of the facility. “See?”

“Pfft-” The redhead giggled, taking the box and examining them. “Claws indeed. Why’d you buy fake nails?”

“‘Cause.” Bachira didn’t add more, dumping the remains of his goodies across the futon. An assortment of colorful nail polish and stickies fell out. “I wanted claws!”

“....You want me to do your nails?”

“Yeah! Give me claws!”

Chigiri blinked. Then he laughed, nodding. “Alright, I’ll give you ‘claws’.” Let’s go to the cafeteria.”

~~~

Unsurprisingly, Chigiri was amazing at this stuff.

With the precision of a surgeon, he held Bachira’s hands in his own as he carefully placed each fake nail. His hair was loosely tied back, falling over his shoulder as he leaned in to check if they were straight. “Good- you don’t want these crooked- it hurts.”

“You’ve worn claws before?” Bachira smiled happily, kicking his feet under the table as he watched. His other hand was already adorned with fake nails. The urge to tap them against the table and make a clicky sound was strong, but Chigiri insisted he waited until he had them painted.

“No- I’m allergic to the adhesive. Makes my fingers turn red.” Chigiri wrinkled his nose as he adjusted the remaining finger. “My sister wears them all the time though- I used to help her out. She could never get them to stay.”

“Hm.” Bachira nodded. “Do you paint your nails?”

“Not lately. They always chipped after practice. Hopefully these will stay on.” Just before Bachria’s turn, the dribbler insisted on painting his friends. Chigiri’s fingers were now coated with a surprisingly even set of pink.

Except for his ring fingers. Those were orange. “Kuni nails.” Bachira winked, making him blush and roll his eyes.

“I’m a good claw painter! And you are too- oooo.” Bachira forgot what he was saying when the first layer of blue touched his nails. It looked so much like Isagi’s eyes. “That’s pretty!”

“You picked them out- I assume you knew what you were doing.” Chigiri gave him a teasing brow raise. Heat creeped up Bachira’s collar as he averted his gaze, watching the redhead work. “Don’t squirm- you’ll mess up the design.”

“Design-” Bachira leaned forward to look, only for Chigiri to push him back in his seat with a pointed glare. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t know you could draw!”

“I er..can’t. I can make squiggles though.” Chigiri laughed softly, making Bachira smile. “I hope you don’t mind them.”

Bachira took his hands, posing them the way his mom did whenever she got her own nails painted. Stripes of yellow cut through the blue on his ring fingers, the rest a beautiful application of blue. Chigiri even managed to put some of the sticky gems on them, really making them pop.

“I love them!” He breathed, giggling as he hugged the other. “Thanks Chi-Chi! I’m gonna wear them forever!”

“Heh, no problem. C-Careful, they’re not dry yet!” Chigiri called after him as Bachira ran off, giggling the entire time.

He couldn’t WAIT to show Isagi!

~~~

“Look look! My claws!” Bachira shoved them in pretty much everyone’s face, wiggling his fingers for the full effect. As soon as they were dry he was waving them around, clicking them against water bottles and anything that would make noise. Kunigami jokingly told him he should do ASMR with them- Bachira tried but was far too loud right off the bat.

“Wow, look at those. They’re pretty!” Isagi giggled as he took Bachira’s hands, taking them in. “Chigiri painted them for you?”

“No, I did.” Raichi called out, earning a small burst of giggles from the others. His own nails were painted black- courtesy of said redhead. “I’ll do yours next, Isagi. Give me your digits!”

Isagi rolled his eyes as he turned back to Bachira, finding him no longer there. “Bachi-”

Something blunt but ticklish trailed against his neck. He shuttered with a sharp yelp, diving forward. “Ahah!”

Silence, the rest of Team Z looking at him with looks of both curiosity and amusement. Isagi felt his face burn.

“Ooo…” Bachira cooed from behind, something dangerous in his tone. “Was that…”

Isagi had two options. Stay and take it or run and get it anyway.

He opted for the latter.

“Isagi!” Bachira called after him as he took off, flying over futons and people as he bolted out the door, the dribbler hot on his trail. “Come back here!”

Nope, no way! Not happening! It was bad enough that Bachira knew his worst tickle spots. With those nails…

He was gonna kill Chigiri. He’ll plan his revenge later.

For now, he needed to RUN-

A dead end! He turned with wide eyes as Bachira began a slow ascent, glittery nails wiggling with devious intent. “Isagi~”

He looked both ways, knowing it was useless. Bachira had him cornered. “Bachira! Bachira- now wahahit just a mohohment!”

“No can do! The monster’s telling me to get you, so here I COME!” Bachira charged, easily trapping his boyfriend against the wall as his fingers skittered and danced against the exposed skin of his neck. “Tickle tickle tickle!”

“AH! Ahehahahahahhaha! Bahahhachihihihirahahha! Heahhahahahahha!” The other boy squealed as he sank to the floor, half trapped by Bachira’s legs as the other pressed into him. Those dastardly nails danced against his skin, sending waves of sensitivity across his nerves. “Wahahahahait, wahahhait- thhehehehey’ll fahahhahahall oohohohohohofff!”

“Silly Isagi- I know they will! That just means I’m gonna have to use them to their fullest potential!” Bachira giggled, tugging his boyfriend gently until he was half-lying, half sitting up against the wall. As he went down, a strip of skin revealed itself, giving Bachira a new opening.

“Bahahahachi- Bahahchi- WHAHAHHAIT!” The brunette all but shrieked when Bachira’s new “claws” found the soft skin of his waist, gently tracing the skin along his lower ribs and sending him through the roof. “DOOHOHOHON’T NOOHOHOHT TEHEHEHEHERE!”

“Oo, someone’s ticklish! Tell me- does it tickle more or less with the nails?” The bob-cutted player snickered as he stuck a hand up Isagi’s sweatshirt, clawing at his skin as Isagi squealed and thrashed against the floor. “I bet it’ll tickle way more if I do this~” He dragged them slowly, watching as his boyfriend arched and wheezed at the feeling. “Am I right, Blue Skies?”

“BAAHAHCHIHIHIHIRAHHAHA! GEHAHAHAH PLEHAHAHHASE!” Isagi was sure he was going to die- he was starting to see stars and his body felt light. If he were being honest, he didn’t mind it all that much.

Then Bachira yelped and pulled his hands away and his ascend to the afterlife came to an abrupt halt. “Ehehehahha..yohoohu gohohohod?” He gasped out, hands coming around his belly as he weakly looked up.

“Ow…I didn’t realize that would hurt.” Bachira moaned, rubbing his fingers. Two of his fake nails had popped off, and a third was hanging on by a few strands of glue. “My claws..”

Isagi sat up with some effort, taking in the dribbler’s hands. Gently, he took them in his own, rubbing soothing circles against the aching fingers. “Sorry they popped off. They were cool while they lasted, though.”

“Hmm.” Bachira nodded, sounding a bit glum. Isagi smiled as he brought his hand to his lips, kissing the dribbler’s bruising fingers. The gesture was enough to shock him out of his pout.

“There. All better.” Isagi grinned after kissing the last of his fingers, scrunching his face up when he got a taste of nail polish. “Gross- how do people eat with this stuff on? I feel like it’d make everything taste weird.”

Bachira stared at him. Then he busted out laughing, falling against Isagi’s shoulder. “Ehehehhe! I lohohove you so much, Bluuhue skies!” He pulled back until he and Isagi were face to face, their foreheads pressed together as he gave him the sweetest of smiles. “Do you want me to kiss it all better?”

Isagi only laughed, nodding as he closed his eyes, Bachira’s lips capturing his own soon after.

Thanks for reading!

#Blue Lock #bachira meguru #isagi yoichi #chigiri hyoma #bachisagi #platonic!Bachigiri #tickle #tickle fic #fluff

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRvo5e1M/

I think this would be a great concept for Jack with Brooklyn or even Aaliyah based off of this TikTok lol I find it so funny and adorable

"Daddy are you gonna be sad when I leave?" Brooklyn stopped coloring to look at her dad. Jack looked up from the coloring page he was working on, taking in his two daughters sitting on the opposite end of the table in their playroom. Aaliyah was still furiously drawing squiggles in her book, her tongue sticking out in concentration.

"Where are you going?" He furrowed his brow in confusion. "Mama didn't say anything about any appointments." Jack pulled out his phone to check his calendar, knowing he had a tendency to miss them sometimes.

"Not now, Daddy!" Brooklyn giggled and Jack let out a sigh of relief. "When I'm a grown up, I'm gonna leave." She nodded with conviction.

"Why? Why do you have to leave?" Jack's voice was playful but he was starting to get a little nervous. "Becaauussseee..." Brooklyn leaned over the table as she spoke, "I have to go live somewhere else."

"No you don't, you can just live here with me, Mama, and Liyah." Jack resumed his coloring. "Noooo! When I'm a grown up, I have to get my own house."

"Why?", Jack questioned again, "you don't need to leave. Where are you gonna go?"

"I do." She colored in a flower. "I have to when I'm mama's size."

"But where are you gonna go?" Jack didn't like the idea of his little girl growing up. "To my house. I gots to live there." She wasn't giving in.

"With who? Who are you gonna live with? Nana and Poppa?" Jack didn't mean for his voice to come out so squeaky.

Brooklyn went quiet as she looked at Jack through her lashes. "Who are you gonna live with, baby?"

"My boyfriend", she whispered.

"What?! You can't have a boyfriend!" Jack's voice startled Aaliyah.

"Uh huh! When I'm a grown up, I can have one!"

Jack shook his head. "No! I won't let you have one."

"I'm gonna have one, Daddy. When I'm an adult." Brooklyn had your arguing skills, and Jack already knew he was losing this one, but he wasn't going down without a fight.

"Nope. You can't have one. I don't want you to have one."

"Yes, we're gonna live in our house with two dogs, and a horse, and 20 cats." Brooklyn smiled at Jack which immediately made him cave.

"20 cats? That's too many. You're not gonna find a boyfriend who wants 20 cats, B." Jack chuckled to himself knowing how much he wasn't a fan of cats. "Yes, I will. But you can come visit, though."

"I can? Well then, I can't wait." Jack looked over at Aaliyah. "Lili, do you want a boyfriend too?" He winced, not really wanting to hear her answer.

"No, boys are yucky!" Aaliyah scrunched her face in disgust. Jack bust out laughing, making his whole body shake.

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

[mixtape-racha]

it's a scream, baby! | hyunlix

chapter four: movie's dont create psychos

words: 1.54k // warnings: cursing, crying, hinted panic attack

OFFICIAL GHOSTFACE KILL COUNT: 003

once (y/n) had showered and got ready for the day, she checked her phone again to see another message from hyunjin. he had asked to meet him in town to grab lunch together - he had also added that he hoped it was an official date, but if she wasn't comfortable with that it would be okay.

a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins, grinning as she replied, confirming its role as their first official date, and rushing to get ready to meet him. after all, it wasn’t every day your crush of four years finally asked you out. especially after the horror the town had endured the day before.

as she finished preparing herself, she heard a knock on the door. seungmin and minho still seemed to be dead to the world, so she took it upon herself to answer - surprised to see felix stood there, hand still raised to continue his incessant knocking.

“can i help you, lixie?” (y/n) smiled, ushering him into the house. “seung and minho are still home i think, but i’m about to head out, what’s up?”

her answer seemed to confuse felix, his brows quirking in a squiggle, and a small pout forming on his lips.

“where are you going? who are you meeting? you’re not staying out tonight, are you?”

(y/n) giggled at his bombardment of questions, gently shoving his shoulder. what on earth was his problem today? felix was never protective or cautious like this, often being the one to remind the others that she was, in fact, an adult when they got too overbearing. 

“i’m meeting hyun for a lunch date, lix. no, i’m not planning on staying out today. what’s going on with you?”

“(y/n),” he started, looking at the girl like a fragile doll vulnerable to breaking on the spot. “yeji’s okay, don’t panic. but nari and her girlfriend areum were killed in their dorm last night.”

and like that, (y/n)'s world seemed to crumble on the spot. her mind stopped, and suddenly tunnel-vision had taken control. she needed to get to her friend now.

“oh, god. oh, fuck. no, yeji–”

was the last thing felix heard before she sprinted out the front door, frantically scrambling on her phone to call her closest friend.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

“yeji, babe, oh god-!” (y/n) cried out, throwing her arms around the girl where she sat on the grass outside her dorm building. her face was swollen and streaked with tears, entire body trembling and a green sheen over her face. she looked like shit. probably felt like it, too.

“i found them, (y/n). they were just in the living room. when i saw the front door was open, i– i was so scared…” she whimpered, tears freely throwing again into (y/n)'s hoodie as she sobbed against her body. “i shouldn’t have gone out last night, if i was home i could’ve saved them. i shouldn’t have gone.”

shaking her head frantically, (y/n) pulled yeji away from her shoulder and cupped her cheeks.

“no. no fucking way, hwang yeji, you are not blaming yourself for this. don’t you dare. in fact, i’ve never been so grateful you weren’t home last night, because if i lost you i don’t know what i’d do. don’t you ever blame yourself for this.”

the two of them sat there in their spot in the grass for what could have been hours, and it probably was in all reality. (y/n) simply held her friend in her arms, stroking her hair softly as her sobs slowly turned into dry sniffles.

yousheheld her closer still, having to turn her head away too as the coroner’s came out of the building entrance with two evidently full body bags. it was almost like the world stood still, people simply watching as both girls’ parents clutched onto each other - areum’s mothers cries resounding across the entire campus.

but still, (y/n) stayed in yeji’s bubble - she needed her more than anyone else could in this moment. once the area had cleared a bit of the people watching in shock, she gathered yeji up and allowed her to lean on her body as a crutch.

she wrapped her jacket around yeji's shoulders, and rubbed her arms as she slowly lead her away from the building and towards her own. she could stay with (y/n) as long as she needed - knowing minho and jeongin wouldn’t mind at all. 

(y/n) were also positively sure that the others would volunteer to go back to her dorm and collect her things for her as soon as the police allowed entry. she needed a big support system right now, and (y/n) couldn’t think of anyone more supportive than her boys, her big, crazy chosen family.

it was only once she had ushered yeji into the dorm, locking and double-locking the door behind you that you realised you had failed to inform hyunjin of why she couldn’t make it to your plans a few hours earlier. 

luckily, it seemed felix had gathered everyone into the dorm due to the way she had run off, given the seven shocked expressions around her as she followed yeji to the floor as she collapsed, sobbing again.

lifting her head from yeji’s broken form, she shook her head at her friends, praying they’d get the hint and not stick around to bombard the girls with questions. she gave a silent exhale of relief as minho ushered everyone except chan and jisung out of the room quicker than she’d ever seen before.

peeling your neck and torso away from yeji’s body, you allowed her to sink further into your lap - her cries quickly turning into hiccups and sniffles again, but the trembling of her body showing no sign of stopping any time soon.

“chan, a favour?” (y/n) started, with him nodding his head quickly in response, ready to do anything to help. “get a cup of cold water - use a plastic cup in case the shaking gets worse. also grab my weighted blanket from my room, a clean set of clothes and some towels so she can shower. the wash kit she keeps here is in the box under my desk.”

she watched as he made a mental note of all the requests and darted off towards the other end of the apartment. (y/n) stroked yeji’s hair back out of her face, speaking in a hushed voice so as to not startle her.

“babe, we’re gonna get up now, okay? i’m gonna sit you on the sofa so you can have a drink, and then i’m going to take you to shower, yeah?”

unable to get the words out to reply, she simply nodded, breath coming out in shudders as chan returned with a water bottle full and with a couple of cubes of ice. jisung quickly darted forward, almost coming out of a daze, to help (y/n) lift yeji from the hard flooring and steer her stumbling feet towards the couch just to the left of them.

(y/n) held onto the bottle for yeji as she took a few deep sips, the redness slowly dying from her cheeks. but once her breathing was kind of stabilised, she did something (y/n) weren’t expecting. honestly, it seemed no one was expecting it - but she flung her arms around jisung, mumbling against his hoodie as she inhaled his scent, breathing becoming much calmer.

once she’d successfully drank half of the bottle, (y/n) again helped her stand, and seeing her newfound comfort in (y/n)'s best friend, instructed jisung to keep an eye on her while she showered. he quickly agreed, offering to stay with her while she had something to eat and napped on the sofa so (y/n) could shower herself.

“honestly, (y/n), you look a mess. i mean that with all love and respect but - you look exhausted. i’ve got yeji, go look after yourself for an hour, okay? shower, have a nap, talk to hyunjin. whatever you need.”

she nodded, tears finally building up behind her eyes as the events of the day caught up with her. she embraced jisung in a tight hug, him planting a soft kiss on your forehead before he lead yeji to the communal bathroom with the things (y/n) had instructed chan to collect for her.

shrugging off her hoodie, (y/n) headed towards the kitchen, not recognising her own broken and hoarse voice as she called out hyunjin’s name. he came bolting towards her, cupping her face in his hands to judge how she was feeling, before pulling her into a long hug.

“god, i’m so glad you’re okay. what do you need, angel, i’ll do anything?” he rushed out, his heart hammering in his chest as she wrapped your arms around his torso.

“just need some company, honestly. would… would you wanna come and cuddle with me while i get a power nap?”

“of course. i mean it, anything you need and i’ll do it.”

she chuckled tiredly as she pulled away from the hug and started pulling the other boy towards her room.

“if you could stop whichever fucking psychopath is going around killing people, that would be great.”

oh, if only (y/n) wasn't facing the opposite way to hyunjin. maybe then she would’ve caught the way his jaw hardened and his brows furrowed.

if only.

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#mixtape-racha #mixtape-racha fic #iasb-fic #hyunjin x reader #felix x reader #hyunlix x reader #scream au #hyunlix fic #hyunlix smut #hyunjin smut #felix smut #hyunjin x reader fic #hyunjin x reader smut #felix x reader fic #felix x reader smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids x reader fic #it's a scream baby-fic #stray kids au #stray kids horror au #stray kids horror