#1k celebration

[shirefantasies]

Hii, I absolutely love your work!! 💗 Could I please request headcannons about the characters from The Hobbit and sleeping positions or something about how they like to relax? <3

Uhhhh hell yeah this is so cute 🥺🖤

The Hobbit Characters' Favorite Sleeping Position

Balin

He likes to lay by your side, either facing each other or otherwise right up against you, your back to him as he draws circles with his hand upon your back or arm. Encouraging and relaxing you as you speak, whether it be opening up about your day or sharing some deep thought. As you drift off, Balin maintains a loose hold, knowing you are safe together.

Dwalin

Keeps to his side…at least at first. The moment you pout or reach to him he acquiesces. Acting like he is accepting for your benefit only to wrap his arms around you and clutch you to his chest like he’ll die before he loses you. Tends to fall asleep with his head lolling onto your shoulder due to this position, his legs sprawled out wherever they land, sometimes with one thrown over your sleeping form. Sometimes you will even awaken with his nose nuzzled into your neck and bear tickling any exposed skin.

Thorin

I have two words for you: big spoon. Specifically Thorin will be such. He wants nothing more than to grant you a feeling of care, of presiding over you in a loving way rather than his domineering presence can imply. In truth, being your comfort is everything, and of course he wants to feel you there, to be able to open his eyes and receive an immediate answer why if he is to sense you slipping away.

Oin

In terms of how he cuddles with you, it will be on the loose side, your arms draped over his side as you rest rather than tightly clinging or, in Oin’s words, “crushing the life out o’ me”. The habit you will come to discover, however? Oin very much likes being your little spoon. As much time as he spends caring for others, there is a part of him that wants to be cared for and held but feels too ashamed to ask about, at least at first. Please help him feel cared for!

Gloin

Rarely goes to sleep lightly, be it following a bit of hanky-panky or simply the bit of playful wrestling that ensues if you try to adopt the position of big spoon. Unless of course Gloin is quite tired, in which case you may find him just flopping right over on his back, half atop you but fully vulnerable to your hold!

Bifur

Cuddling too close can feel suffocating to him, especially after all he has been through and the nightmares he sometimes has. However, just because he does not want to entrap you does not mean that Bifur refuses your touch. He finds great comfort in holding your hand as he drifts off, squeezing it if he wakes up in the night. The feeling of your head upon his shoulder or leaned against his is absolute heaven to Bifur.

Bofur

Arms snaking about your waist, Bofur pulls you into his lap before tumbling your joined bodies onto the bed, eventually rotating to face you. His legs weave with your own into the most wonderful mess, radiating with the warmth of your love and every good night kiss. Hooks you in with that leg-lock to pull you even closer against his chest.

Bombur

Cuddling is his favorite thing in the world! Bombur is an expert at it, whether it is being your living blanket or sharing your space in his favorite way, facing you. Nuzzling his nose against yours and peering into your eyes to watch them close and open in fading wake. Sandwiches one of your legs in his, an accidental trap of love, but he just loves to hold you close!

Dori

Lays right by your side, your heads brushing together so he can rub his cheek against yours and talk and listen until you both fall asleep. Sometimes holding hands, others simply loosely draped, limbs thrown wherever they please. You usually end up falling asleep half on top of Dori, head lolling onto his shoulder or chest. He usually wakes up first and subsequently wakes you up with a kiss to the top of your head.

Nori

If you ask Nori, the best way to cuddle is the best way to do anything: with him on top of you! What better than to be able to look down upon you, to kiss you and straddle you on your way off to dreamland? To see directly the effects of any attempts at flustering you staring him in the face quite literally. One hand of his might snake about your waist and give your hip an affectionate squeeze as he nuzzles down into you, whispering you sweet nothings into sleep.

Ori

He absolutely adores cuddling and falling asleep facing each other, his arms gently thrown around you. Rubs his nose against yours as you both drift off, claiming one last sleepy kiss. If you tumble off into dreams first Ori will watch you with a smile, wishing for his last sight of the day to always be of your peaceful expression.

Fili

Caring, giving, protecting Fili wants to hold you. His natural position when he lays by your side is to be your big spoon, holding you flush against him. To have you in his arms is the greatest gift Fili could ask for, security in the highest capacity when he knows you are close to him, close enough to feel his heartbeat and the fanning of his breath upon you and the kisses he places upon your head, neck, shoulders as your eyes flutter shut.

Kili

Mischievously tugs you into bed, pulling you into his favorite position so you are draped atop his chest. With you there, Kili melts at the sight of your head lain over his heart, soothed by its beat. He presses kisses to the crown of it during pre-sleep cuddles, one hand rubbing your back. Up and down the warm softness slides as dreams begin to take you both, the rhythm of synchronizing heartbeats carrying you off.

Bilbo

Bilbo's favorite way to cuddle or go to sleep with you is absolutely as your little spoon! The feeling of snuggling up in your arms is utter bliss, his body melting like butter as he relaxes against you. If you throw a leg over him, you can feel him stiffen in surprise before relaxing once more and turning his head to give you a shy but wide smile. Before sleep takes him, he loves to reach up and hold the hands you've wrapped around him, affectionately running them along yours.

Thranduil

Warning: a bit of a bed hog. At least in the sense that his limbs sprawl out where they please, draping themselves wherever is most comfortable. Which more often than not will involve some part of your body. Thranduil's reaching arms tend to find purchase, for example, when his hand finds your hair to stroke or tangle his fingers in. One of his legs as they stretch and lounge will likely end up beneath yours.

Feren

Adores lying side by side, some space for each of your bodies, but with your hands joined between them. Fingers intertwined like an anchor, a way to show your love even as you fade away into the night. Feren also feels his heartbeat speed when you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, reaching up to stroke your hair before sleep overtakes him.

Bard

Tends to face the opposite direction as you, laying upon his side. However, peek at him when you butt against him, when you wrap an arm over him and feel his hand grip yours and you will see the smile spreading across Bard's face. A sight sure to speed the rhythm of the heartbeat he loves to feel pressed against him.

Beorn

Not used to cuddling at all and quite a stiff sleeper. Once he is comfortable with you, though, that safeguarding streak of Beorn's emerges. Though he does not tend to cuddle to sleep unless you ask for it, peace flows through his whole being when you curl at his side, his form still straight but one arm extended out that much further to rest along your back, a hand at the small of it.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @filiswingman @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @evattude @kpopgirlbtssvt @rivendell-poet | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🖤

[scarletlizzard]

Inked Desires - Part 3

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Pairing: gp!Natasha × fem!Reader

Tags Minors DNI: natasha has a dick, miscommunication, unprotected sex, breeding, cheesy shit

Masterlist

A/n: Thank you to everyone who stuck around for this part, and thank you for 1,000 followers! 🥳 There are no more parts to this, but I do have some drabbles I'd like to write for it if y'all are interested 🫶 Please leave some feedback, and thank you again for reading ❤️

Art Creds for the first 2 pics: @sweet--escape17 (Please go check out their art, it's amazing!)

Also, shoutout: @oolsen (Thanks for helping me with the plot when I get stuck!)

****

Your eyes glaze over as you stare at the screen of your phone, looking at the same messages that had been sitting in your conversation with Natasha for the past week. You replay the events from the last night you saw her at Joe's bar, wondering where you went wrong. An entire week, gone, and not a single text. No 'Good Morning'. No 'Have a great day'. No ridiculous smiling emojis attached to an even more ridiculous joke. Instead, a one-sided conversation with yourself:

Y/N: I had so much fun last night!

Y/N: Have a good day, baby <3

Y/N: Maybe we can get together soon? Kate told me about a fair happening nearby next weekend. I think that might be fun!

Y/N: Hey, is everything okay?

It wasn't like Natasha to not text you back. The two of you had practically talked every day since meeting, and when you hadn't, she always had a good reason for not replying. Most of the time, it had been you that was too busy to text back... but now the quietness of the empty chat in the palm of your hand allowed an eerie loneliness to seep into your chest, along with a feeling of guilt.

***

"Come on, it'll be fun! " Kates voice rings in your ear from your phone. A sigh spills from your lips as you shake your head, knowing she can't see you.

"I don't know, I'm just not really in the mood..." You mumble into the speaker and silently thank the man who opens the door for you. The smell of freshly brewed coffee enters your nose, a small sense of comfort filling the cracks in your chest.

"Well, you don't really have a choice. You already know I'm dragging you with me... Plus, you can't be in a bad mood when you're eating caramel popcorn," You can practically see the grin on Kates face, knowing how much you loved the simple fair treat. You can also hear movement from the other side of the phone, raising an eyebrow as Kate shuffles around.

"Alright then, fine. Only for the popcorn," you sigh again as Kate cheers. She tells you goodbye as you walk up to the counter to order your usual latte. You pay and move to the opposite side of the counter to await your drink, when you spot a familiar red head in the corner.

Your eyes widen, chest bursting at the sight of Natasha. The feelings hit you all at once, guilt, anger, confusion. Overwhelmingly at the top, happiness. Her brows pull together in concentration at the paper, headphones rest atop her head as she sketches away in a notebook. Her short sleeve shirt reveals her inked skin, and you feel the familiar desire for her all over again.

You give yourself a second longer to stare, a second longer to mentally prepare yourself for what you want to say. Where have you been? Why haven't you texted me back? But as you step closer to the table, and her kind green eyes move away from the paper and to your not so composed stature, your mind seemingly empties.

"Hi," you say with a small smile after she removes her headphones. Natasha clears her throat awkwardly. You want to kiss her red cheeks.

"Y/N, hey," the smile she gives you back doesn't seem genuine, causing your own to fade.

"I've texted you a few times. Is... everything okay?" You ask, a small tilt of your head.

"Um, yeah, you know. I've just been busy?" She avoids your eyes, her body language distant as she crosses her arms with a shrug. You glimpse at the notebook open on the table, an intricate design of lines and shapes, before she closes it abruptly. "I actually have to get to work," Natasha sighs and throws the notebook and pencils into her bag. You don't miss the fact she's not wearing her work shirt.

"Right." You click your tongue as she stands, the tension in the air killing both of you.

As badly as Natasha wanted to pull you into her arms and kiss the worry off of your face, she couldn't. She couldn't deal with the fact she wanted more and that it was reciprocated. She couldn't deal with the fact that she wanted late night talks and laughs, while assuming you only wanted late night hookups. She couldn't deal with the fact that she liked you more than she thought she would, while assuming your interest in her was not on the same level.

"Look, can we talk?" Your soft tone surprises her as she stands, her tall frame towering over you. "Maybe tomorrow we can get together and just... talk. Huh, baby?" The term of endearment slips your tongue, and in a last ditch effort, your hand reaches out to softly touch her bicep.

Natasha finally meets your eyes again, and the two of you still for a moment, the coffee shop fading around you. She almost gives into you once again. She was weak against you. You feel her muscles tense in your grip, and the sound of your name being called by the barista takes her attention away from you. She takes a step backward and pulls on her pierced lip with her teeth.

"I uh, I'm hanging out with Yelena tomorrow," she rubs the back of her neck, attempting to sooth her nerves. You only stare up at her, feeling defeated. "Maybe next time."

You frown up at her, the feelings of confusion and anger rising to the surface as she refuses to look you in the eyes. "Sure. Next time."

Natasha opens her mouth to speak again, but no words come out. Instead, she turns her back to you and walks away, leaving you behind.

***

The next day, you found yourself once again staring at the empty conversation on your phone. You had typed up a million different messages, none of them sounding good enough to send. All night, you had tried to come up with the words to say to her. Ranging from paragraphs of you confessing your feelings to a simple, 'Hey, I like you. What are we doing?'

She had said she wanted more, didn't she? Why were you suddenly getting the cold shoulder?

You sigh aloud as you walk into your apartment building, calling Kate for the fourth time since you got off work early. In a rush this morning, you had forgotten your key, and you desperately hoped she was still there to let you in. Trudging slowly up the stairs, you get her voicemail - again.

As you walk up to the familiar sight of your door you knock hard, "Bishop, you'd better have a good fucking reason for not answering my calls," you joke and continue banging on the door. The lock clicks, and the door swings open. "I'm so glad you're home I-" you stop mid sentence, a now unfamiliar sight standing before you.

"Kate saw she had missed calls from you, I think she's hiding," Yelena laughs and steps back inside the apartment as you walk in behind her.

"Yelena.. I- what are you..?" Your heart picks up for a moment, assuming Natasha would be here with her.

"Oh, Kate invited me over for a movie day," her accent is thick as she speaks, and she gives you a friendly smile. Apparently, she was unaware of the current state between you and her sister.

"Aren't you hanging out with Natasha today?" You ask with a tilt of your head. Yelena raises an eyebrow and shakes her own head.

"No?" She questions and returns to her seat on the couch amongst a pile of pillows and blankets.

Your stomach drops. Natasha had lied to you. Why would she lie to you? Your mind begins to spiral at the list of reasons as to why she would. Kate walks out from the bathroom in the hall and sees the furious expression written on your face.

"Uh.. hey, you got off early!" Kate strides across the room towards you. "Everything okay?" She asks.

"Everything's great." You give her a bitter smile, making her eyes widen. "I'm sorry to interrupt your movie day," you look behind Kate to Yelena.

"Well, maybe since you're here, we can call Natasha over?" Yelena looks back to the now wide, sarcastic smile planted on your face.

"You know what, that's actually a great idea," you mutter and walk past Kate towards Yelena, who was already grabbing her phone.

"Y/N," Kate starts, but you quickly silence her with a glare.

"Oh, she finally answers!" Yelena laughs into the speaker and looks to you, blind to the situation unfolding in front of her. "Where are you at? Of course you are, that was a stupid question. Look, I'm at Y/N and Kates, we are having a movie day! Why don't you quit working out for 2 minutes and come over?"

At Yelenas words, you quickly walk to the kitchen counter where your key rests, grabbing it. She was at the gym, of course she was. You don't need to see Yelenas face change as you hear her English switch to fluent Russian. Natasha was finally filling her in. Kate gives you a look that you ignore as you leave the apartment and prepare yourself to make the 5 minute walk to Natashas gym.

The two of you passed by it any time you hung out, always pointing out the fact it was so close to your place and how you wondered why the two of you had never met before her party. Your footsteps are heavy against the sidewalk, and you don't give yourself a second to think about your current state. Still in your work uniformed shirt and slacks, hair a mess, eyes dark underneath from lack of sleep. It didn't matter. You were set on finally confronting her.

You walk inside to see Natasha standing by the weights, an unsurprised look on her face as she watches you move swiftly amongst the workout equipment. Your heart races in your chest, an uneasy feeling as Natasha begins to tower over you the closer you get. You try your best to ignore the tight black tank top she wore, along with the tight black shorts that showed off her toned and tatted thighs. You forced yourself to look only in her eyes.

"Y/N... let me explain," Natasha begins. You roll your eyes and ignore her words, anger bursting from every crack.

"So what is this then? You're just going to fuck me in a dirty bathroom bar then ignore me? Lie to me?" It leaves your mouth faster than you can think about it. Natasha meets your gaze at the words, a hurt expression on her face. Gone are the soft eyes once reserved for you, replaced with the cold stare everyone else receives.

"Are you kidding me? That's funny coming from you, Y/N," she scoffs, tone laced with venom.

"What the fuck does that mean?" You raise your voice, watching as Natasha steps forward towards you.

"Lower your tone," she commands, looking around the gym. You suddenly feel small. "I mean, that's all you want from me, isn't it? Look, I told you I wanted more of-of this," she motions between the two of you. "You don't, and that's fine, but stop trying to text me every time you need to get off." The last part is said in spite, and you feel as if you'd been pushed back. Natasha wanted to take it back as quick as she'd said it, but maybe being harsh was what she needed to get rid of her growing feelings towards you.

"Is that what you think I am? Just some slut trying to use you?" You spit back, watching her face twist in confusion.

"I never said that, Y/N."

"No, but it's implied."

"Unless the words leave my mouth, don't you dare put them in yourself."

"Is that seriously what you think?" You huff out. She nods, standing straight and crossing her arms.

"Well, yeah?" Her voice is unsure as she looks down at you. You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers.

"You are a fucking idiot," you say with a shake of your head. Natasha face contorts as you look back up.

"Excuse m-"

"Why do you think I text you all the time to hang out? Why I invited you to hang out with my friends ?" You ask her in a serious tone, seeing her body language soften. "You want to talk about putting words in mouths? You don't get to say if I do or don't like you - and for your information, I do. A lot," you sigh as you finish your ramble.

"You do?" Is all she says, and you don't know if you want to slap her or kiss her.

"Of course I do.. I thought that was pretty obvious." It's your turn to cross your arms as she brings a hand up to rub her inked neck, her cheeks turning red to match the hair braided behind her.

"It's just - I thought maybe - You didn't -" She stumbles over her words, suddenly with a nervous demeanor.

Natasha wasn't prepared for this. She was prepared for an argument and then to never see you again. She hadn't given it a thought that you actually did reciprocate those feelings. And now here you were standing before her, in her mind, looking as beautiful as ever. She was putty, again.

"You didn't say anything that night back, so I just assumed.." her voice is soft to match her eyes, and you feel that guilt again, seeping out of you.

"Baby.. I'm so sorry. It was only because I was so excited that you felt the same way I did, I didn't know what to say," you reply just as soft and step forward. Natashas eyes spark with life at the use of her favorite word, leaving your lips, and her arm instinctively flexes as you touch her forearm. "Maybe next time, give a girl a moment to gather her thoughts?" You say with a small smile. Your heart leaps at the smile that spreads across her lips.

There's a moment of silence between the two of you, and just like before, the world seems to quiet and blur around you.

"Hi," Natasha chuckles, and you roll your eyes at the familiar game.

"Hi," You giggle back and reach up to cup her cheek. She leans down with a strong hand resting on your hip, lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss.

The two of your pull apart, but her large hand continues to rest on your side as you stand in front of her, now letting your eyes admire her toned muscles that were on display. The black lines on her skin move with every flex in her arm.

"Tell me more about this fair... will there be caramel popcorn?" Natasha asks. Your eyes shoot quickly up to hers as a warmth spreads through your chest.

You hadn't told her about your love for the snack. You lean up and kiss her again, ignoring the confused look on her face and letting yourself melt against her.

***

Lights of all colors of the rainbow seemed to flash around you. The sounds of laughter and screaming of people on the rides filled your ears. Your eyes search the area around you, watching as couples and families walk from stand to stand. A few teenagers run by, and a loud ringing and a cry of, "Winner!" catches your attention from next to you.

"Holy shit!" Kate laughs and taps your arm, showing you the brown teddy bear she won. You can't help but smile at the sight.

"Only took you about ten tries," you laugh along with her, reaching out to check out the bear. As you hand it back to her, you notice her eyes trail above your head. Then, a pair of thick arms wrap around your waist from behind. You can smell the familiar scent of the fragrance she wore.

"Well, well, what have we won?" Natasha asks from behind you. You lean back against her, smiling widely as she leans down to press a kiss to your cheek. "Pretty girl.." She mumbles in your ear, fingers tracing the material of your dress.

Things had been going great with Natasha since you talked about your miscommunication. Her morning texts returned, along with nightly chats over the phone until one of you fell asleep. She took you on dates, and you even went with her to the gym. Though, that mostly consisted of you shamelessly checking her out while she blushed gorgeously. You were happy, truly happy. One thing that had been building between the two of you was a certain... tension. The last time you both were intimate was the night at the bar. Since then, there have only been a few heavy make-out sessions and teasing between you. It seemed neither one of you wanted to be the first one to give in to those oh so familiar desires.

"Kate finally won a teddy bear, twenty dollars later," you cough out the last part jokingly and rest your hands on top of Natashas that stayed wrapped securely around you.

Kate groans and rolls her eyes playfully, "You know what? I'm not sharing him with you anymore."

You scoff, feeling Natashas chest rumble as she laughs along with Kate. "Yelena is at the ticket stand, by the way," Natasha says with a small smirk on her lips. Kates eyes widen a bit.

"Oh?" She says with a slow nod. "You know, actually, I think I need some more tickets!" Kate pats her pockets innocently with a shrug and gives you a smile. "Meet you later?" She asks, and you give her nod before she walks away.

Turning in Natashas arms, you finally get a good look at her, and you could drool at the sight of her in her white shirt and blue jeans. Just as always, you can see the pops of color peaking out from the seams, dark lines visible through the thin fabric. Her crooked smile lets a chuckle slip through.

"Alright?" She asks, raising an eyebrow as you continue to gawk at her.

"More than alright," you clear your throat and step back, letting your hand take hers. "Now, are you going to win me a teddy bear, or do I have to do it myself?" You poke her side, and she laughs.

"Step aside, I've got this," Natasha leans down to kiss your forehead, taking out her wallet and handing money to the man in charge of the booth.

"Three shots to knock down the bottles, and it's all yours!" He cheers loudly to gain the attention of others, showing off the teddy bear in question. Natasha takes the ball in her hand, and your eyes are glued to her broad shoulders as she winds up. She throws the ball, missing completely.

"That was just a warm-up," she turns back to look at you, clearing her throat. You stiffle a laugh and purse your lips, nodding.

"Of course, baby! Just a warm-up."

"Two more shots!" The man cries.

Natashas gaze changes from playful to pure concentration, eyes focused intently on the stacked bottles in front of her. She throws again, this time knocking two of the three bottles down. You can't help but let out a giggle this time at the proud expression on her face as she turns to you once more.

"One shot, and it's all yours!" He says loudly, shaking the bear next to her.

"Piece of cake," Natasha says with a laugh. She takes the last ball and winds up again, only to miss completely.

"Ohh, out of luck!" He says with a shrug and moves away. "Who's next?" He yells.

Natasha turns to you with red cheeks, "So maybe I'm not so good at this?" She rubs the back of her neck, and you only shake your head.

"Step aside," you repeat her own words to her, brushing against her as you hand the man money. He goes through his same shpiel and hands you a ball. Only when you go to throw it, the ball hits the bottles perfectly. All three go down instantly.

"Winner!" He yells loudly, handing you the stuffed bear. You smile widley as you take it and return to Natasha, a stunned look on her face.

"But.. how did you.." She shakes her head.

"Here you go, princess," you tease and hand her the bear, giggling as she rolls her eyes but accepts it.

"Alright now, at least let me buy you some popcorn," Natasha laughs along with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walk.

The two of you spend the next couple of hours riding the carnival rides the fair had to offer, walking around aimlessly, laughing and smiling, teasing each other. You had never felt happier. As you stand there, finally eating your favorite sweet treat, you look at Natasha stood next to you, the sight making you smile. You take out your phone and step back, ignoring the questioning look from her and snap a picture.

You giggle at the image you got of her, the stark contrast of her heavily tattooed and pierced body whilst standing there holding a teddy bear and a box of popcorn was a sight to behold.

"What was that for?" She raises an eyebrow, trying to look at the picture you took.

"Nothing, I just wanted a good memory of this," you smile and put your phone back in your pocket quickly, grabbing another handful of the caramel popcorn. Natasha smiles back. Before she can say anything, a raindrop hits her face.

"What the -" She starts, looking up at the dark night sky. The drops start coming faster, hitting harder as the rain begins to pour. All around you, people begin walking quickly to canopies, attempting to stay dry. "Come on," she says and grabs your hand.

The two of you make your way through the crowds of people, rain pouring down as she leads you out of the fairgrounds. The bright lights and loud music begin to fade as you run behind her, seeing her car just across the lot. Once you reach it, Natasha opens the passenger door for you.

The small act has you swooning as she stands there, waiting with a smile for you to get in. That even in the pouring rain, she was just the type of person to open the door for you. Instead of moving past her, you reach up to take her face in your hands, stepping on your tiptoes to kiss her.

The darkness is thick around the two of you, rain drowning out any nearby sounds. Natashas hands move from the door to wrap around your back, letting you down on your feet as she leans down to deepen the kiss. The cold rain is unforgiving as you melt into each other. A shiver runs through your body as her tongue slips in your mouth, a groan leaving your throat as the two halves spread to engulf your own. At your shiver, she pulls away breathlessly.

"We should get in," she utters against your lips. You nod feverishly.

"Backseat," you say, earning a groan from Natasha. She quickly pulls you away and opens the back door, letting you climb in. She follows behind, and as soon as the door is shut, you are climbing into her lap, lips colliding with hers again. The kiss is messy, tongues sloppily licking at eachothers mouths as you make out.

"Do you have any idea how crazy you drive me?" Natasha moans as your lips travel to her neck, her chest rising and falling rapidly with every nip. At her words, you grind your hips down in her lap, feeling her growing bulge. "F-fuck," she whimpers, bucking her hips up as you grind against her. "I need to be inside you, now," she groans. Her large hands move to your thighs, lifting your dress above your hips.

"Desperate, are we?" You purr, bitting down hard against her neck. She moans and nods, letting one of her hands move up to grip your jaw.

"Y/n," the soft look in her eyes is replaced with dark lust. "I need to fuck you. Now," she reiterates, grip on your jaw tight. Her thumb slips into your mouth, and as you suck on the digit she moans.

Your hands move to the bottom of her shirt, lifting the heavy, wet fabric over her head, along with her bra. Your fingers trace the tattoos that litter her collarbone, nails scratching lightly. You couldn't deny you were just as desperate for her. Natasha lets you up slightly to undo her jeans, pulling them down past her knees along with her underwear. She winces as you return to your previous position in her lap, hard cock rubbing against your still clothed pussy. She could feel you soaking through the thin material.

"God, I've missed this," you mumble as her lips reconnect with yours. You feel her fingers pull your underwear to the side, the tip of her cock rubbing against your aching cunt. Your hips hover over her length before slowly taking in a few inches.

The two of you moan loudly in the small car at the feeling, windows already fogged from your breathy groans.

"My pretty girl.. fuck," Natasha hisses as you lower yourself all the way down, feeling her thick cock stretching you out completely. "You were just made to take me," she moans again, hands resting on your hips. Your hands grip onto her shoulders, nails digging into the side of her neck. Her hands guide your hips to move, and you begin to ride her. Your eyes screw shut as she splits you in two, euphoria filling your veins with every movement of her own hips slapping up to meet your bounces.

"Look at you riding my cock, such a good girl for me," Natasha grunts as she watches your lips part, head thrown back in pleasure. "Taking every inch, fucking yourself on me," she pants out.

The coil in your stomach was building quickly, and as your legs began to grow weak, Natasha held tightly onto your hips, thrusting up into you harshly. Your mouth met hers again, and she swallowed your moans as you kissed her. "Baby I-I'm gonna cum," you moan out, whimpering as she shakes her head.

"Hold it. You cum with me or not at all," Natashas voice is stern, and your head falls forward into her neck. Your chests press together, and you can feel the piercings on her nipples rub against your dress as her arms wrap around your back to hold you in place.

"I wanna feel you soak my cock, god just listen to your pretty cunt make those noises," she moans. You can hear your wetness with every thrust, mixing the the rain hammering onto the roof of the car. The two of you are wet, sticky, and messy. Natashas primal urges to fuck you sending you closer and closer.

"Ohh, Nat, please I need to cum! Fill me up, baby," your moans turn higher pitched and she knows you won't last any longer, and neither will she.

"That's it, pretty girl.. cum for me. That's it, soak my cock, fuck, fuck!" Natashas mouth let's out a string of curses, fucking up into you mercilessly. The coil in your stomach snaps at her words, and you feel your orgasm hit hard. You moan her name loudly, body trembling as you feel her load fill you up, your hot walls swallowing every drop. Natashas hips finally slow to a stop, and you're left limp in her arms as the two of you pant against each others skin.

"So good, so good... my pretty girl..." Natasha whispers against your neck, holding you tightly. You stay like that for a while, head resting against her shoulder and just holding onto each other. The cool piercing on her lip brushes against your skin as she peppers kisses up to your face.

You lift your head to meet her soft green eyes with a smile, feeling her fingers brush your messy, damp hair out of your face. Before Natasha can even think to say it, you open your mouth.

"Hi," you giggle, earning a breathy laugh from the red head.

"Hi," she gives you a toothy grin and kisses your head.

****

The sunlight creeps through the windows, warming your skin. It was late in the morning, when you habitually reached out to grab your phone. Your heavy eyes barely peeking open as you check the screen. For a moment, in your sleepy morning haze, you looked for a 'good morning' text, but saw none.

It was then a pair of inked arms wrap around you from behind, and you smile to yourself, feeling Natashas body wrap around you protectively.

"Good morning," she mumbles tiredly against you, breath fanning the back of your neck. You chuckle and let yourself melt back into her hold, hands holding onto her arms as you drift back to sleep.

[shitslikethis]

nothing cracks me up more than the jersey devil episode of x files. i cannot stop thinking about it literally ever. it’s the one time mulder is stone cold correct about everything he says but his evidence is like a stick figure babadook drawing he bought (!) off a homeless guy and a cartoon of a gorilla with big naturals. iconic tbh.

[lives-in-midgard]

A Cute Couple

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You distant yourself from Bucky because you think he doesn't feel the same, not knowing that he is also in love with you.

Word Count: 1180

Request: Bucky and Reader who are best friends and really close, then someone says that and Bucky furrows and is like “we are not a couple.” But he didn’t see the changing expression on readers face because she is in love with him. [See full request here.]

Prompt 19: “You’re such a cute couple.” “We are not a couple.”

A/N: Thank you for sending me this request I hope you like it!!

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Bucky is your best friend, and you are his. It all started when you joined the Avengers shortly after Bucky did. You immediately had a special connection and became best friends after a while. You were there for each other when the other one was going through a difficult time. Bucky knows exactly how to make you feel better and you know what to say or do to make him feel better. You tell each other everything, well almost everything because you both have a secret and are afraid of telling it to the other.

You have a huge crush on Bucky and Bucky is also in love with you.

You weren’t sure how Bucky would react if you told him how you feel until one day.

Bucky and you were sitting on the couch in the living room of the Avengers compound. A few minutes ago, Bucky asked you how something on his phone works and you explained it to him. You had to chuckle when he didn’t understand something and after a while you found yourself sitting very close to him. A few more minutes passed when Peter Parker entered the room. He was a new Avenger and you both hadn’t really spoken to him much since he joined.

“Hey, Y/n, hello Mr. Barnes.” Peter said politely and sat down on an armchair. You both looked over to him with a smile.

“Kid, I already told you that you can call me Bucky.” Bucky said and you giggled.

“Okay, Mr.…umm Bucky.” He stuttered nervously and then blushed. You continued to talk to him for a while.

“You’re such a cute couple.” Peter suddenly said and you started to blush and then to smile.

“We are not a couple.” Bucky answered and then chuckled. Your smile dropped not because what he said was wrong, but because of the way he said it. You didn’t hear what Peter said next, you just wanted to get away from there. So, you slowly moved away from Bucky and stood up, Bucky then looked at you confused.

“I have to go. …I completely forgot that Wanda wanted to talk to me…now.” You stuttered as you looked at Bucky and then at Peter.

“Oh, okay, but we see each other later, right?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, sure.” You mumbled and Bucky smiled, although he was a little confused about what just happened. You quickly said goodbye to Peter and then went to your room. When you opened the door to your room, you laid down on your bed and started crying. Of course, you know that you’re not a couple, but when Peter told you that you and Bucky were cute, it made you happy and then Bucky chuckled. He probably doesn’t have the same feelings for you, you thought. You decided that maybe it would be the best if you didn’t spend so much time together anymore. But you have to watch a movie with him later like you always do.

After dinner you went to Bucky’s room like you did every day, but this time you were more distant and tried not to sit as close to him as you used to. Even if it was difficult for you, especially when he is such a cutie. When the movie ends you usually stay for a while, but this time you thought it would be better to go to your room.

“Doll, are you sure that everything is okay?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, it’s nothing, I’m just tired.” Before you could leave the room, you heard Bucky say:

“Goodnight doll, and sleep well.” You started to smile and turned around.

“Goodnight Buck, thanks you, you too.” Bucky smiled at you and then you went to your room.

Over the next few days, you started not spending so much time with Bucky. You made excuses when he wanted to spend time with you, and once when you were training and he came into the room you stopped and said that you wanted to stop even though that wasn’t true.

You missed spending time with Bucky. You missed his smile, his blue eyes, you missed when he calls you doll and how he always knows the right thing to say. You even miss his grumpy side and how he always gets annoyed when he doesn’t understand something in the modern life.

Bucky also missed you a lot. He missed making you laugh, talking to you about everything, watching movies at night, and then waking up to you cuddling with him. Bucky even missed that you can always make him smile or laugh, even when he’s in a grumpy mood.

At first Bucky didn’t want to say anything to you, but after a few days he had to talk to you.

You were in your room watching your favorite show when there was a knock on your door. When you opened the door, you saw Bucky standing there. He looked nervous and had a sad look in his eyes.

“Hey doll, can we talk?”

“Sure Buck, come in.” You were nervous and quickly turned the TV off.

“Are you avoiding me, doll?”

“What, no, I’m not avoiding you.”

“Are you sure because you’ve definitely been trying not to spend a lot of time with me lately…Once you even left the room when I walked in. I really miss you, doll.” Bucky looked sad and now you were too.

“I miss you too.”

“Then please tell me why you’re avoiding me” Bucky asked and you looked down, not sure what to say to him.

“Please doll, tell me what I did to upset you.” Bucky said, and when you didn’t answer, he put his finger on your chin and lifted it up so you were looking at him. When you looked into his blue eyes and saw how sad he looked, you couldn’t resist.

“Remember when Peter told us that we were a cute couple?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“When you said that we are not a couple, it made me so…so sad, especially the way you said it. Because…Bucky, I’m in love with you” You stuttered and were silent for a moment. When Bucky didn’t say anything, you became nervous.

“Bucky– “

“Doll, I love you.” Bucky interrupted you.

“What?”

“I’ve been in love with you for so long, but I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way.”

“Oh, Bucky, I can’t believe this.”

“You better believe it, because I’m so in love with you.” You blushed and Bucky suddenly tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, put his hand on your cheek and then he kissed you. At first it was softer, but then it became more passionate.

“This kiss was worth the wait.” Bucky said as you broke the kiss. You smiled at each other and are both so happy knowing that the other feels the same way. You are so in love with each other and can’t wait to see where this relationship goes.

Taglist:

@marvelogic | @eviebuggg | @buckys-wintersoldier | @nicoline1998enilocin | @kandis-mom | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @noellez-best-life23 | @beaubbdoll | @sgtgarricks | @ratchildspartan | @scott-loki-barnes |  @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 | @mrsbuckybarnes1917 | @brnesblogposts

[chronically-ghosted]

iron and charcoal

rating: explicit 18+ pairing: pero tovar x f!reader word count: 6.9K summary: Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –  Her. He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.  OR Pero falls hard for a princess and doesn’t know what to do with himself on your wedding night. warnings: angst, brief classism/xenophobia two very stubborn people, pero experiences one Human Emotion and cannot fully process it, arranged marriage, yearning, smut LIKE WOW, soft!pero that i broke my own heart with a/n: Thank you so much to @perotovar for this request: "congrats on your milestone, my love! so happy for you <33 i'm sending a little astrology 💫 + pero & #6 on the fluffy list OR #1 on the smutty list (whichever is speaking to you), because i wanna see your take on him 👀” – of course I chose the slutty one, just for you 😉 I’m actually pretty proud of this one - please consider reblogging if you like it too!

*the image in the header is for aesthetic purposes only and does not reflect the appearance of the reader*

🤍Masterlist 🤍Pero Tovar Masterlist

💜come see what else we've done to celebrate 1K followers

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

Sometimes before battle, the clatter inside Pero’s head goes silent. It listens. It waits. 

Other times, it roars. Memories of family, of dead amigos, of mujeres he fucked – they all buck and scratch for a chance to blaze across his mind like a dust storm kicked up by an unbroken mustang. 

He doesn’t know which one he prefers or which one will win out. They both have their uses, necessary states of mind to survive whatever is barreling towards him – an ax, a monster out of legend, some other drunken mercenary he intentionally pissed off. It’s an unconscious decision, yet one that has served him well so far. He wouldn’t be alive today if some deep, primal part of him knew what he needed to live through another battle. 

And yet, his own trunk knocking against his hips as he climbed the sickly ostentatious stone steps to the top of the parapet, the handles starting to pinch his fingers, the barest – nearly invisible – tremor in his knees, he cannot fathom, for the life of him, why that singular phrase from his abuela played in his head like water swirling around and around a cenote. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

His inner voice, taking on a myriad of forms, of sounds and voices, never quite standing still, the one companion he could always rely on. 

Maybe it was warning him. Dust yourself off, boy, you know exactly how this was going to end. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –

Her.

He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.

He feels sweat escape from the nape of curls at his neck, his cheeks warm and chest hot. Two more flights, he can manage two more flights. 

His abuela also liked to tell him something else: if hell doesn’t get him, his pride certainly will. 

It’s certainly what got him into this ridiculous farce in the first place. Because he can’t alchemize whatever is in his gut into vocalized syllables, he instead has to climb a truly incalculable amount of stairs, while carrying a ragged, torn trunk that weighs as much as his armor. 

Because he can’t form the right words, any words, about what he carries lodged beneath his breastbone for her. What draws him up and up and up and up because it’s lighter than hope, makes him lighter than air, and yet it clogs him up, chokes him out all the same. His pride, his vanity, cuts through it, through her – enough to keep him tongueless and dry but not enough to offer this lightness in his chest to her, for her. He can’t take the light out of him or else he fears what he will truly become.

So, he walks, he goes around and around on unforgiving stone steps until finally there is a door. He thinks about waiting, to catch his breath, but he knows he will just as easily turn around and go back the way he came, trunk still heavy and knocking against his hips, and that pride will be the death of him. So he keeps going, opens the handle, and makes abrupt eye contact with the two guards outside her door. They seem uninterested and unamused in his sweaty, stilted breathing, but by his less-than-royal attire, they easily clock him as one of their own; a man who fights to make his way in the world. The one on the left nods jerkily at him. 

What they see him as, what he will always be, is nearly the reason he kicks that fucking trunk all the way back down. Instead, he nods back, shoulders rounded, eyes down. 

“The princesa - the princess - is requesting the last of her things, to be b-brought up from the stables –,” he clears his throat, “drop this off for her and –,”

“Can’t let you in. King’s orders.” The one on the right sees him as something else – a foreigner first and foremost, their similar stations in life irrelevant. His bright blue eyes rove over Pero’s dark skin, dark hair, jagged scar, distaste and disgust smearing his already ugly features. But he had been dealing with men like these all his life.

“Bueno, you can explain to the King himself why his daughter’s belongings were lost and disregarded. I hear she’s very fond of the Italian prints at the bottom of this . . .”

The guards glance at each other, calculating way above their paygrade. Pero jostles the trunk as if to show he is not above throwing it out the window. 

“Fine.” The second one snaps. “Drop it inside and come back immediately.”

He drops his head, a good little foreign boy. “Gracias, señor.” 

The heavy wooden door opens beneath the iron lock and the instant he is through, he bolts it behind him. Waits to see if the guards notice. They don’t. Perfectamente – all the time in the world. 

All in the time in the world – for what? 

To fail? Again?

He stows the trunk in front of the door, extra time, a few seconds maybe – as if she wouldn’t just tell him to get out the instant she laid eyes on him. Only time will tell. 

Out of the atrium, another door, this one set deep into the wall. A last line of defense. He knocks, once, then twice, then waits. El orgullo chokes him again but fuck it, he’s come this far. He knocks again, knocks something in his chest free and, with it, spill the words:

“Princesa? It’s me. I –,” it throttles him, “princesa, can you open the door?” 

Silence. His heart sits, buried in that trunk. Then –

“It’s unlocked, Pero.” 

His heart in his throat, he opens the door to presumably what will be your marriage bed. And yet, by the state of things, you could have been moving out of it. Trunks and bags stack high against the far wall – those fucking trunks he made such a scene over because the unnecessary weight would slow them all down remain untouched, arranged as they had been when they had been first brought in. He didn’t quite know what to make of that, his thumb absently pressing into the callus of his other hand as he glanced around. It is a beautiful room – tall windows, etched in scarlet drapes, to match the scarlet curtains around the bed. With gold thread and impossibly detailed paintings of the countryside, it is fit for a princess, a some-day queen. This is where someone with royal blood deserved to be, not in the back of a hot carriage for weeks on end, surrounded by dirty, loud, rough men. 

And yet, with your hair down, expansive gown from the ball tonight replaced with a simple cotton dress, you could not have been more out of place. Pero’s heart lurches briefly, moisture seeping from his mouth, as he realizes this is the same dress he bought you when the two of you had been accidentally separated by the caravan and your previous dress had been ruined in the mud. He had no idea you still kept it, much less wore it ever again. 

But if anyone asked him, you look more beautiful in this than any silk or velvet. 

Instead of unpacking, settling into your new home and eventual role as wife, you sit hunched over at the intricately carved mahogany desk, eagle feather quill scratching against parchment. You finish with a flourish and look over your shoulder at him, your eyes annoyingly unreadable. 

“Yes?”

A stupid brute some may call him, but he wasn’t entirely without awareness. Observation of your customs and what you considered inappropriate only encouraged him: if you really didn’t want him here, you would never have let him see you in this state.

But it’s hard to remember that under your icy stare. 

“Y-your things, Princesa. The last from the caravan.”

Your eyes slide over him, to the trunk in the shadows of the atrium. He can tell from a single glance that you know as well as he that trunk is not yours, that no one told him to come here with it, and yet he did it all the same. Something flashes over your eyes but it’s gone by the time you meet his gaze again. 

“Thank you. I am, as always, indebted to you.” 

He hates your words, but warmth spreads in his gut at the way you say it. That’s how it’s always been between you and him – saying one thing but meaning another. He’d never appreciated a sharp mind like yours until he realized you wield it as he wields a sharp sword. 

There are many things he’d never even dreamed of before he met you.

“Then, this means you’re leaving, I suppose.” You draw your sword against him. The metal flashes in your eyes as you stand, one hand against the curved tip of your chair. A bronze halo rims your outline, the fire behind you burning bright and hot. He knows if he touched your shoulder, your neck, your skin would be wonderfully warm. 

He wets his lips. “Si. Our contract with your father is done.” 

You drop his gaze, your lips tightening for a minute, your fingers running through the carvings of wood on the chair. “Even with William in his state? Would it not be better for him to stay and recover? The journey home is –,” you pause, as though someone had thrown a hand over your mouth, “– the journey back east is long.” 

All the longer without you.

“William, he is not an idle man. Two days of bedrest is often all he can take.” 

You grin, in spite of this thing circling you both. “Unless he finds the nun attending to him beautiful.

“He finds them all beautiful.” 

Your smile expands wide across your bright face when you find him smiling at you too. 

This – if this is to be his last memory of you (his heart wrenches at the thought) – this is the you he wants imprinted on his soul: smiling and glowing by firelight. 

But as quickly as it came, that grin that warms him down to his bones, fades. In an instant, your eyes grow soft, your mouth twisted, jaw tight.

“Where will you go?” you ask, in the quietest voice you’d ever addressed him with. 

It pains him, physically aches within him, to hear the distress in your voice. He hasn’t even thought about the next contract, the next royal cabrón who intends to yank him all across God’s green earth to perform a task he can’t be fucked to take on himself. How can he possibly answer you? Nowhere, without you. To rot in a dark hole in the ground? Off a cliff? What answer would provide you or him any sort of satisfaction?

“Wherever the coin goes,” he says and the words scrape his tongue like bile. That ache in his chest spiraling rapidly, deep into his gut – like a poisoned limb he cannot amputate – he does the same thing he always does when he’s hurt: he makes others hurt until they leave him alone. “You do not have to worry, princesa, your new husband will keep you in such comfort you will never wonder where the coin comes from.”

He must be a truly sick man, for the knife-sharp glare you throw at him only knots arousal around the base of his spine. It tugs on something attached directly to his groin which, in turn, yanks the next words out of his mouth.

“He looked especially happy with you in his arms on the dance floor tonight.”

The icy shards in your eyes go brittle and crack. His heart races; he’s overplayed his hand. 

“You watched me dance?”

“All guardsmen were required to –,”

You shake your head, eyes bright and searing through him. “No. It was only the King’s Knights there in attendance.” 

Your hand trailing off the edge of the chair, you take a step forward and he feels his weight shift back onto his heels. But he remains firm. 

Sana, sana.

“Pero, why did you come here tonight?”

“To return the last of your things, princesa. What else is there?”

You flinch, as if he had raised his voice to you. What else is there indeed?

“Not even to . . .  say goodbye? Sixteen weeks on the road is an awfully long time to be around someone, only for them to . . . leave so soon.”

He locks his knees to keep them from shaking. “Do you wish for me to tell you goodbye, princesa?” 

There’s something painfully sad about the way you smile at him. “I wish for whatever would make you happiest.” 

Anger roars within him, hungry and hot, like a burn from a white flame. Why can’t you just admit it? Why do you avoid it time and time again? He knows he hasn’t misread anything you’ve sent his way, so why? Why are you so vested in torturing him this way? 

“Coin makes me happy and, now that I have it, there’s nothing to keep me here.”

There, that hurts you too, just as he meant it.

“Then leave.” They could make ice fortresses out of the strength of your bone-cold stare. “If you have nothing else to say, then take your goddamn trunk and get out of my sight.” 

The flame scorches him, ripping him apart and in his anger, making him cruel.

He bows to you.

“I imagine you will be very happy with your new husband, ranita.”

The term slips from his lips before he can stop it, but his throat and cheeks blister so badly, he physically can’t open his mouth to correct his mistake. Instead, he turns and strides towards the door.

He thinks he hears a gasp from behind him, a sharp sound like breaking glass – small, tinkling, tragic. It spears him through his chest, pierces his heart. 

He gets to the door and pauses.

If you have nothing else to say . . .

Of course he has something to say – words in English and Spanish and broken dialects gathered like poisonous lichen all churning in the boiling cauldron of his mind, but nothing will suffice – nothing reflects or compares to the grief he is already feeling, the despair, the anguish that has settled into all the fleshy joints in his body. Not his pride, but this, saying goodbye to you, this is what actually will kill him.

Every word imaginable crawls up his throat and rages in his mouth, presses up against his teeth, begging for something, anything to be let out, to be free, to tell you that he cannot fucking live without you–

Nothing comes through, but one single word.

“Don’t.” 

The fire crackles in the silence, a wicked god pleased at the display of carnage.

“What did you say?”

A dull thud echoes from where he drops his forehead against the wood of the door, all anger flooding out of his system. Do you have any idea the power you hold over him? One request, one tremor in your voice and his knees all but buckle at your altar. 

Fuck it. 

He always thought he’d go out in a blaze of bloody glory, but he’d never expected to be so exposed, so flayed like this.

“Don’t,” he repeats, his throat as dry as sand. “Do not . . . marry him. Please.” 

The vision of your great warrior slumped against the door frame, his neck bent, shoulders curled up to his ears has your already pounding heart leaping forward into a gallop. He is defeated, laid low. You watch his guts all but pool out on your hearth. 

He looks about as hopeless and anguished as you feel. 

Your soldier, your man of iron and charcoal, goes blurry in your eyes.

“And what would you have me do, Pero?” Your plea is damp, malleable at the edges. You press your hand flat against your chest, near your throat, as if you could pull the grief lodged there with your fingers. “I have been engaged to this man before I was even born. How can I stop this?” 

“Fight.” The word snarls against his bare teeth. He turns, his eyes liquid ink, and suddenly he has you by the shoulders. His thumbs nervously skitter around the curve of your shoulder, gaze just as unsteady and unfocused as it wavers between your hands, your earlobe, your neck. "Where is my brave girl who fights for what she wants, hm? Fight – for me, please.”

Fight, he asks – but in spite of him or because of him?

You lay your hands on the silver shine of his breastplate, watch as they rise and fall with his steady flow of breath. How many nights had you woken up against that shine, in the crook of his arm for warmth, or protection? You didn’t cherish it at the time because you never knew when it would be your last. 

“Why won’t you fight, princesa?” His voice is low, strained, the groan of a wagon wheel before it breaks. You meet his gaze and the exposed look on his face, softening every line on his mouth and around his eyes, nearly sends you into hysterics. You swallow the tears, swallow the hook in your throat as your fingers curl around the clasps of his cape. 

"Because if I don't fight then I can't lose.” His fingers slip from your shoulders, to your elbows, to your waist. You inhale and the scents of warm leather, oil, and ash flood your mouth. The tip of your nose is inches from the scruff of beard against his cheek, the ruddy brown of his sun-drenched skin. He has curled you into him and this, you do not fight either. His massive palms map your back, against your skin, but without any urgency or control. “If I can’t lose, that means I don’t lose you. You'll just be . . . gone."

That last word is a lie. It hangs in the air like a sweltering humid rain and you both know you’re lying. He has you wrapped up in his arms, you didn’t stop him even for a second, and you are all too aware that it would take some great, insidious alchemy to ever truly tear him out of you. 

You stare at his silver collar, defiant against the waves you had managed to shackle down until this very moment: a wave of hopeless crashes into you, a wave of heartbreak, a wave of helpless that fills your eyes to the point of spilling with that very same salt water.

He touches your cheek delicately, fingers rough with callouses, and the floodgates break open with a sob. 

“Preciosa,” he rumbles softly against your hairline, “hush. You break my heart with your tears.” 

“Do not mock me, Tovar. Not now.” you sniff, trying to turn your face but his wide hands catch you around the cheeks.

“You are beyond mocking. I’d show you my heavy heart but I do not wish that weight on anyone.” The snag of his rough thumbs against your cheek draws your watery gaze to him. His mouth is a flat line, barred against whatever climbs his throat, but his eyes move like mercury across your nose, your eyelashes, the arch of your cheek. Your fingers wrap themselves around his wrists, a grounding agent against the waves that threaten to pull you under. 

“Pero, I –,”

“I have fought you, tooth and nail, for days without end. Every favor, every breath, you have forced them from me. I fight my own mind when I sleep at night. Sueños, always of the same woman.” He smears away the tears with his thumbs, gently, sweetly, before pressing his lips to your wet flesh by his knuckle. He inhales deeply, eyes closed, mouth hovering stationary above the skin of your cheek. “You fight me every step of the way . . . and I am so tired of fighting.” 

For all your struggling, for all your tearing and clawing and snarling against the blooming in your chest, nothing is as easy as it is to turn your head and press your lips to his. 

The brush of his bristled mustache against your upper lip. His warm, rough palms holding you steady. His lips soft and hot. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him.

There is nothing like, and nothing will ever be like, finally kissing Pero Tovar. 

All it takes is the movement of his hands from your cheeks to your lower back, the light trace of his tongue against your lips, and the yearning you’d been smothering for weeks now roars to life. His hands squeeze your hips and you can suddenly barely breathe. 

“Pero–,” the noise in the shape of his name that escapes you is near a whine, begging. He nips at your lips, hand firmly at the cup of your jaw, mouth now rough and insistent, and your fingers claw up his neck, wrapping themselves in his dark curls. You tug, nails scratching his scalp, and he groans into your mouth as if you’d just kneed him in the gut.

A thread-bare gasp of your name from his lips splits you from him, then his hand on your hip and the back of your neck pushing you backwards gives you enough air to breathe – to think.

"Your husband will know you're not a virgin,” Pero warns, breathing hard and fast, his eyes like black flints, “if we go on." 

You curl your fingers around his neck, dragging your mouth near his jaw, the soft skin at the edge of his ear.

"Then he will also know my heart is not his either.” You ask everything of him with this. His armor blocks his warm body from you – you want to sink inside his hard shell. “If you’ll have it.”

He is not himself, half-human with an inhuman want, with the snarl that leaves him. 

“Don’t make such promises, dulzura –,” A threat, a dog forced to expose its underbelly, fear radiating like the pain from a broken bone. Your fingers dig into the buckles of his cape, steadying you against a sudden terrible awareness that bloomed, purple-bruised. 

“Unless you don’t want –,” 

The desk rattles when your hips break against it, the force of his kiss enough to topple over your inkwell, spill rolls of parchment to the floor. The wood groans under your weight when he gathers the thick swell of your thighs in his hands, heaves you onto the flat surface, and spreads your knees around his waist. He is as hard as the iron on his chest. 

“Can you feel how much I want you?”

A frantic sigh of relief, a groan shared between two pairs of lips, seeking skin and warmth and other hungry places. 

He drags you onto his chest, your skirt bunched up around your hips, the rings of his armor digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, his mouth covering yours in wet pulls, and he stands up right, as though you weighed less than his sword. 

A stumble, and he spreads you out on the velvet covers of your marriage bed, his hands imprinting on your hips, your knees, the supple meat of your calves. The touch of him on your bare skin feels like the licks of flames, the smoke of arousal blurring your awareness and dragging your eyelids half-closed. On his heels at the edge of the bed, the flint shards of his eyes drift over the bones of your ankles, the bend of your knee, your heaving chest, hair in snarls around your neck and caught behind your back, and finally to your cunt, hidden by the folds of your dress. 

Velvet hums as you slide your ankles to the curve of your ass, widening your legs, parting your knees. His lips part open, dark want etching every line of his face. You feel the wet linen of your dress cling to your achy cunt. He swallows, unbuckling his cape one latch at a time, his eyes nowhere else. The metal clatters as it falls to the floor.

Piece by piece, the chinks in his armor fall away. Piece by piece, he is revealed to you. Your hands rise up, up your thighs to your knees, your thumbs rubbing soft circles. He watches, never tears his gaze away from your sticky hole, his nimble fingers working away the buckles and knots with practiced precision. You can see it in his eyes – memories of bedrolls by firelight, of such a deep painful, yearning ache, separated only by thin tarp, they are a physical weight beside you in this marriage bed. 

You see them because they’re there for you too. You see them because you've been here a dozen times, on your back, legs spread wide, your hands circling but never dipping, waiting. Wanting. For him. 

His bare chest is warm, the wings of his ribs expanding around short, half-drawn breaths, as he crawls up into your pliant mouth. The kisses are slow, like before, with a crackle of heat just beyond them, his hips slipping into the cradle of your thighs, the wet warmth of you separated by the thin linen of your dress. He sucks the tendon below your ear, a whine slipping out of your mouth, fingers spreading over the harsh planes of his back, and his cock bobs against your thigh. 

Pero is bare and warm and entirely yours. All man beneath the sweltering armor. 

“Amorcita,” he drips into your ear, kisses smeared against your collarbone, your mouth, your earlobe, “amorcita, amorcita . . . ranita, let me take you.” 

He starts to use teeth, a harder nip behind his kisses, when he dips down to your chest. A wide palm with stocky fingers grasps at your breast and it’s a startling sensation for you both. 

“Soft,” he moans before licking up under the supple curve of your breast, mouthing at what his tongue missed. He slips your erect nipple into his mouth and twists it between his teeth. “Sweet,” he murmurs with your nipple firmly between his lips. 

This is unlike anything you’ve felt before. You deliriously thank the gods that he hadn’t touched you like this on the road; you would have kept him, your own wild animal, in bed without rest for days on end.

Pero plucks just as aggressively at your other breast, the spit-wet nipple that preoccupied his mouth verging on purple and aching. He cups you from the outside this time, squeezing and massaging, ringing your nipple with his tongue until your back bows and you let out a whine that has his eyes flickering up to you, the scent of wounded prey filling his nostrils. 

That whine of pleasure elongates into a whimper: “please.”

“Tranquila, ranita.” His touch is softer around your bruised tits, but he keeps one hand bagging the weight of your breast while the other slips beneath your skirt.

The pads of his fingers brush your creamy cunt and with a yelp, you grab him by the wrist, your eyes open with a familiar emotion he draws out of you: rage.

“Pero Tovar, if you value your life you will take me under the covers and put your —,”

He chuckles, his cheek against yours, nose rimming the velvet hairs on the ridges of your ear. The vibrations liquify the tension in your bones, loosening your grip. Your eyes flutter, slick obviously running down his fingers. “Ranita, I don’t think you know how you want to end that sentence..”

His words roll like honey over the heat of your skin. It makes your skin tremble. Your grip tightens on his wrist and you roll your hips, your swollen clit finally relieved by the pressure of his palm. 

“Oh, oh, Pero—,” 

With a grunt, he shuffled closer, elbow by your shoulder and he cups your entire wet cunt in his hand, pushing the heel of his palm flatter against you. You cry out, a sparkling kind of pleasure radiating out from where his hand rests. You buck your hips faster, complete release flickering through your outstretched hand. 

“Can you come like this?” You nod, eyes squeezed shut as you barrel towards escape, and you feel him shudder next to you. You are intimately aware that he’s rubbing his cock on the crease of your hip bone but that only drags you faster towards the light. “Then come, ranita, come and I’ll fuck you.” 

The wet, curling heat growing between your legs descends, then in a bright snap, explodes across your body. 

“Fuck!” You tear open your eyes to find them damp, Pero’s massive hand cupping your cheek towards him, his stallion eyes dark as his fingers drag on the soaked material of your dress, your hips slowing. 

“Amorcita, breathe.” The words are torn from his chest, all cock-suredness gone from his frantic gaze. You gulp in air, the weight of his body over yours grounding and smothering you all at once. He pulls his hand away from you, rides it up your thigh to your waist, looking for something to hold onto. He strokes his thumb once against your overheated skin and you’re wriggling up out of your dress. 

“Help,” you hiss and his fingers nearly tear the fabric off you.

With a few undone buttons, you shiver out of your dress, the slick-drenched spots catching on your warm skin. He flings it behind him, near the fireplace. 

He takes you barely beneath the thick covers before you welcome him back to the heat of your open legs. 

But instead of reeling back and plunging his aching cock into you, he takes the time to kiss you. To praise you in all the ways he fears his mouth will end up short. He kisses you, grateful, reverent – wonderful to be swallowed by but also a distraction.

When he lifts your knees by his waist, your hips automatically tilt towards him and for the first time, you feel his red, sore cock between your tacky lips. The dual sensation nearly drags you over the rack of delectably delicious pleasure, as does his worn, broken groan in your ear. 

“More, please, don’t stop.” You cry against the bristles of his beard, his hand dropping between your sweat-slick bodies, finding yours already there to guide him. The press of him spreads you open, filling you one sinking notch at a time. The sensation of your pink, dripping walls moving to take more of him in has you arching up into his chest, nails dragging into his back. His dry lips stifle the moans escaping from your mouth. 

Pero takes both of your hands in his, dragging them above your head, his fingers locking your palms together as his hips roll forward. “Cálmate, amorcita, cálmate,” he murmurs between distracted presses of his mouth against your chin, your cheek, his breathing heavy and stunted. You writhe, pinned open by his hips and his hands, his cock filling you all too slowly and not fast enough. 

With the last few inches, you take him completely, your cunt throbbing, heart pounding, intoxicated by the sensation of being so maddeningly full. Pero drapes over you, his head tucked into your neck, forearms straining with the tension of gripping your hands tightly. 

“Santa madre . . .” He is not a warrior right now. He is but a man, cunt-drunk and heaving. 

His name is pushed out of the bottom of your lungs with the first swing of his hips. You cling to him, knees at his ribs, unwilling to let even an inch of space between your bodies. But this becomes increasingly difficult as his thrusts gain speed. His flushed lips stain a sticky line against your jaw, down to your throat, and he releases your hands, the oak of the bed creaking beneath the force of him drilling down into you, he props himself up on his palms, his shoulders bent and curled over you, biceps straining, hairline damp, eyelids fluttering. The scar on his cheek is flushed pink.

“Look, amorcita, look how well you take me.”

His words tear you from your nebulous high, the grit of them forcing your head down to the obscene squelch beneath the sheets. The thatch of rough curls over his groin is drenched in slick, his thick cock soaked to the point of shine as it drives into you again and again. The heavy draft of breath the sight steals from him, the tap of his cock against a place so deep you didn’t know your body possessed, draws the spooling bliss as tight as a wire. 

Your trembling thighs squeeze him tighter, that hot pressure rendering you speechless, except for the most pathetic whine. Please, Pero, please, you think, you mutter, you whisper, your body rocking damp against the sheets. 

With a sudden snarl, he takes the chunk of your hair at the base of your head flat in his fists and tugs. A shoot of bright pain sparks bliss down to your tight and bruised nipples, and you cry out again. 

“Stop fighting, puedo sentir cuanto la quieres. Let me have it.” It is the following word that splits you open like lighting carving apart a tree. “Please.”

The wail that you release is the rush of gooseflesh over your skin alchemized into audible sound. Heat radiates through you, sucking the air from your lungs, your vision going blurry, then black as you clamp your eyes shut against the rush, the final release, that curls you into his arms. His warm, flushed arms, shaking with strain. A final wobbly thrust or two and his elbows are buckling, sweat-drenched chest pressing into your own.

Distantly, you are aware of the warm, slick drip down your thighs, his cock pulsing the last drops into your cum-flecked cunt, and the dangers this sort of intimacy poses. You can’t gather enough breath, enough sense to settle the spinning room, to worry or even care. 

Your his, and he is yours. That is all that will ever matter. 

The crackle of wood burning is the only other sound than your ragged breaths, the silent roll of sweat from sticky hot skins into the bedsheets. The stone walls of the castle’s room entomb you together for a brief stretch of infinity.

Pero moves and you think he’s going to back out of you, but instead, he merely adjusts, his head fully on your chest, thick fingers clutching your bruised waist, the shift of his cock pushing more of his release out of your oversensitive cunt. But you’ll take overstimulation over his absence every time. You run your fingers through his damp curls and he hums. 

“I’m sorry,” he huffs into your humid skin. “I’m sorry I let my pride keep us apart for so long.” 

You grin lazily to the ceiling, your breath settling as affection takes its place in your chest. 

“You were not the only one blinded by vanity.” 

“But I’m not blind. Not anymore.” He lifts his head, eyes as dark as your spilled inkwell. “I am never letting you go.” 

You smile at him, fingers soft against the back of his neck. “I don’t plan on wandering away.” 

His oil-black gaze drops to your lips and he leans forward to take your mouth against his. Gentle, but with the promise of more. 

“Mi ranita,” he purrs to break the kiss. 

“You call me that all the time, Pero. What does it mean?”

At that, a nearly shy expression crosses his face. He shakes his head, shifting onto his elbows to lift off you. “I can’t tell you. It will ruin your good mood.” 

You gasp, offended, and you grab him by the ear and twist. He chuckles through a grimace. “You will tell me what that means, Pero Tovar, if you value your appendages.” 

“Órale, princesa, retract your claws and I will tell you.” 

You release your grip and settle against your pillow. Grinning bashfully, he kisses your neck briefly.

“Remember that I love you after I tell you this.” 

Your heart nearly stops, the absence of a steady beat nearly drawing tears to your eyes but you hold firm. You breathe deeply against the fluttering in your stomach and pin him with your glare. Of course, this is how he would profess his love to you – when he’s trying to get out of trouble. 

“Tell me, Tovar!”

He chuckles again and preemptively picks up your hands. He kisses the inside of your palms, settling himself between your thighs. 

“It means little frog.” Your mouth falls open in a gasp and you struggle to yank your hands back from him, hissing like a tea kettle, but he uses his weight to press down on you. He nips at your nose. “I call you that because when you’re upset with me, much like you are now, you puff up like a bullfrog, your cheeks like this–,”

He rounds his cheeks full of air, crossing his eyes, and you simply cannot take the slight anymore. You push roughly against his gut, the breath trapped in his mouth escaping in a hot puff, and you twist him onto his back. He lets you, of course, his bold, full laughter rendering him defenseless. His body shakes beneath you, his beautiful eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open wide as he laughs and laughs and laughs. You take him by the wrists and push his limp hands over his head, pinning him as he had you. You pinch his chin with your teeth, your messy cunt over his stomach, as his laughter subsides. 

“Have you had your fun yet?” 

“Barely,” he chuckles, turning his big nose against your cheek and inhaling. He hums.

“Is that all I am to you? A joke?”

Pero opens his eyes, sober as death rattle. He takes you in, not in a hungry, all-consuming way, but in a look that speaks of awe and rapture.

“You are everything to me.”

You sigh, releasing his hands and curling into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, your eyes on the roaring fire. His thumbs rub your shoulder blades, trace the lines of your spine.

“You’re so very lucky I love you too.” 

His wandering against the expanse of your back stills, just for a moment, before his fingers slide into your hair, around the nape of your neck, holding you to him with the intention of keeping you there forever.

“I know, ranita, I know.” 

He watches you sleep as the sky lightens beyond the tall windows on the opposite side of the bedroom. The dying fire traces your edges in gold, settling heat in the curve of your lips. 

His heart lurches with the wanting of you.

There’s more terrible things to come, he knows that. The plan the two of you concocted in the early morning hours will be dangerous, deadly even. But dying together instead of living apart would be much more tolerable, you told him earlier that night, your hand on his chest. 

He would kill if you asked. He would kill, even if you didn’t, to keep you safe and by his side. You’ve proven yourself capable of living a life away from this spectacular opulence, but it pains him to know he will never be able to give you anything nearly as lovely as the velvet dresses in the closet, the gold jewelry in your trunks. 

Instead, all he has to offer is himself. His strength, his hands, his heart. It’s his own fear that tells him that’s not enough, because you remind him again and again that’s more than you ever wanted. 

He traces the curve of your cheek with the hovering pad of his finger, brushing your hair away from your face. How he ended up so lucky with your love, he’ll never know, but he will spend the rest of his days proving that he’s earned it. 

You stir in your sleep, sensing him above you, and he hates to steal even a few minutes of blissful sleep from you, knowing the endless nights that are coming. When he steals you away from all that you’ve ever known. 

The sleepy grumble in your throat resembles his name as he curls around you, but your eyes remain gently closed. He pulls you against him, the air that leaves your mouth and sits between your chest and his something he covets with his whole heart. 

I love you and I’m disgustingly lucky and I love you. 

He is a man made of dust, serving men made of silver. He is a man of dust, loving a woman made of gold.

El orgullo? No, Abuela, his ranita will get him first, last, and every time.

+

Translations:

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. - This rhyme is typically said to children when they have just hurt themselves. The parent (or grandparent) usually rubs the part that is sore and sings this little tune. Literally translates to: "heal, heal, little frog’s tail. If you don’t heal today, you will heal tomorrow."

el orgullo - pride

dulzura - sweetness, romantic connotation

amorcita - little love, romantic connotation

Tranquila - quiet, as in "be quiet" or "relax"

Cálmate - take it easy, or take it slow

puedo sentir cuanto la quieres - I can feel how much you want it/love it

Órale - okay, or an exclamation expressing approval or encouragement.

ranita - little frog, but you knew that already ;)

the rest are cognates (or familiar words) which you can probably guess the meaning of, but feel free to message me if you don't know!

[nicknelosn]

@lgbtqcreators creator bingo ㅡ romance + typography

ANNA’S 1K CELEBRATION ↳ 🪐 mulder & scully + yellow for @laurabenanti

[imaginaryf1shots]

Hot and Cold | Charles Leclerc

WC: 3K

Charles x gf!reader

Summery: "I can't do this anymore, I can't be everything to you one minute and then mean nothing to you the next." from my 1K celebration

Warning: angst, don’t think there’s anything else.

Masterlist

Charles Masterlist

Being a Formula 1 driver, isn't easy and it's a very demanding job. You know that and everyone that knows someone in F1 knows that. The sport takes a big toll on everyone involved, physically and mentally. You've seen what the pressure does to drivers. Charles, who you've been with for a long time is a testament to what it does to people.

The road to reaching F1 for Charles was long and hard and he lost so much on the way. There was so many sacrifices he had to make just to reach his destination and achieve his dream.

On track, the smell of burning rubber is strong and the air is filled with adrenaline. It was all familiar to you now. Charles was in his element there more than anywhere else. To everyone he's Charles Leclerc the prodigy, the hope to Ferrari, but beneath that helmet he's just a man juggling the weight of his dreams and the expectations.

Off track, as Charles's significant other, you try to be there for him as much as possible provide all the love he needs, to comfort him when he needs it, to be a stable constant in his life. Charles is a loving and attentive boyfriend, he always wants you to fly with him and be there with him. Whatever your needs are he always tries to meet them.

As the new season progressed though things have began to change, and at first it was just a bad race he'd be upset for a couple of days before he'd become normal again, but then his mood would stay down for longer and the moments when you two could be happy together became less and less. It was rare now to have a moment with Charles that's just the two of and filled with joy.

It was when Charles is home that you started to feel the distance between the two of you. Charles was home but his mind was a thousands miles away, caught in strategies, cars and lap times. As you watched you could see his brows furrowed in thought, his arms absently tapping the arm of the sofa, and a bang of longing twisted in your chest.

"Charles." You called gently trying to pull him back to you, to here, to now. Charles looked up, when his met yours, you can see reflecting exhaustion and something else you couldn't pinpoint. Guilt? Or was it the weight of the expectations?

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" He smiled oh so sweetly, and you returned his smile.

"I was saying if you're not feeling up to it we can cancel our reservation for dinner and go another time." You tell him and Charles takes a moment to answer, and that is telling enough for you, if he wanted to go he would've jumped at the idea of going and refused instantly. "It's alright my love, we can go another time."

"Can we? You won't be mad?" Charles asked and you gave him a reassuring smile.

"No I wouldn't." And you weren't mad, you were sad, you were really looking forwards to tonight, you bought a new outfit and had it all planned out. There was no other time to go, Charles is heading into a triple header and there was no time in between to do anything.

There was no late-night conversations, because Charles wanted to sleep to reenergize, there was no sharing dreams or thoughts, and you haven't been intimate in so long as well. Your heart ached on those night where Charles was sleeping next to you but it felt like he was so far away.

At one point he got you a gift with a hand written letter and you felt like the Charles you fell in love with is back, you were filled with hope. But then the next day he was back in his head, and distant. You're starting to feel like he's playing with your emotions.

Charles one day decided to take you out in Monaco to a café you haven't been to in a long time. You dressed for the occasion, dolled up. The walk to the café was a nice one, you walked hand in hand, talking and laughing. Once you reached the café, Charles got an email from Ferrari and like that he was gone, you ordered for the both of you, something that fit his diet so when you ate he wouldn't feel left out or tempted since he's been hard on himself when it came to the diet and the gym. The food and drinks came but he was still lost in his own world, taking a bite of your food, everything was tasteless, you wanted to spit out the food as your stomach churned. Putting the fork down you signalled to the waiter to bring the check all while Charles is still lost on his phone, he's been good at blocking everything when he's working these days, and he's been working a lot. You paid and he was still none the wiser.

Only when you stood up that he looked up from his phone.

“Amour?" He was confused, he looked around him and saw the now cold drink you ordered him and the bill on the table.

"I'm going home, don't worry about the bill, I paid, when you're done you can come home." You said with a smile and turned to leave.

"y/n, wait!" Charles scrambled to follow you, he walked out after you. Charles jogged until he was behind you, he held your arm to stop you from walking, and as he opened his mouth to speak his phone rang. He glanced at it and bit his lip. He had no idea what to do now. You laughed dryly.

“Just answer." Charles didn't put up a fight and you slipped out of his hold, but you didn't go home, you weren't in the mood. So you walked around the city, enjoying the good weather.

"y/n!" Someone called your name and for a split second you hoped, you hoped it would be Charles, but you recognized that voice. You turn and smile, a fake smile, your heart started beating in your chest as your emotions started to get to you and you fought them.

"Max, hey." You greeted the RedBull driver, you've been dating Charles long enough to be on good terms with the other drivers and their girlfriends. "Kelly, how are you?"

"We're good, how are you?" Kelly asks and you both hug and press your cheeks together in greeting.

"I'm, I'm good." You nod and then bite your lip, Kelly didn't believe you and frankly neither did Max and out of the two he knows you least.

"We were just going back home, if you're not doing anything, maybe you'd want to come over?" Kelly asked and you looked at the couple and gave them the smallest smile you could master.

"No, I don't want to intrude." You say and shake your head no.

"Where's Charles?" Max asks and Kelly hits his chest softly and glared at her boyfriend. Max was a bit confused. Kelly watched your expression, you smiled before your brows wavered and your lips trembled.

"Oh honey." Kelly pulls you in for a hug. Kelly holds you for a few minutes while you calm down, once you did the couple took you back to their home.

Sitting in their living room, you just broke down and told them what's been going on. Your phone started ringing half way through and blowing up with texts from Charles, all going unanswered. The couple were baffled with what you said, to everyone you always looked like the perfect couple, the envy of everyone. Yet, here you are crying your eyes out because your boyfriend has been ignoring you for the better part of the year.

You spent the night at the Verstappen-piquet household before you decided to head back home.

"Are you sure?" Max asked as he walked you to the door.

"Yes, thank you, I'll be fine." You reassured him, and with a quick hug you left. It didn't take long for you to reach your shared house with Charles, when you walked in you heard hurried movements before Charles appeared in front of you.

"Oh mon amour, I was so scared." He did look stressed, you sighed and closed the door lightly, your moves were slow, you took off your shoes and dropped off your bag on the table by the entrance before you turned to look at Charles, it's apparent you both didn't sleep well. You knew Charles had work today, that's why you went out yesterday, but he was dressed in sweatpants and a random shirt, a stay at home outfit.

"We need to talk." You said, your voice tight, struggling to contain the emotions that threatened to spill over. You had given Charles so much time and space in hope that with time he'd find his way back to you, that the coldness in him will thaw and melt, but the moments when you think it happened aren't enough, they're rare and far between.

"Look, if it's about yesterday, I'm so sorry, I should've-" Charles started before you cut him off.

"No, we need to talk about us." You said your voice trembling ever so slightly, you both move to the living room and you sit across from Charles. When you first started dating and until a year ago, you've never sat apart on any sofa, in any room, but it's becoming familiar now. "We need to talk about how we've been struggling lately, our relationship is drowning."

"Drowning? y/n, amour, yesterday I just had an important email and then call about work." Charles tried to explain but it just made you more sure that this conversation had to be had.

"And last week?" Charles frowns thinking about last week, you had planned to go out with your friends, but he bailed last minute to stay home and get on the sim, so you went alone. "And last month? My mum's birthday? Our anniversary?"

"A-Amour, I didn't realise I've been under alot of pressure, you know that." Charles sighed, the sound was heavy and weary, he couldn't meet your eyes, he knows he missed up big time. "The season is in full swing, and I need to focus." "Charles, we've been like that since last year, I only had you for a part of the winter break before you were back at work." You frown, trying to make him realise for how long he's been like this, and you've tried to be understanding, to be by his side and take it. "What about me? Do I not matter to you anymore? Does our relationship mean so little to you?"

"No, it's not like that." He said rubbing his temples. "I'm just... I'm trying to keep up with everything."

"Everything but us." You said your voice gaining an edge as you started feeling angry.

"I... I didn't realise," He stammered, standing up and taking a step towards you, you stood up but took a step back, you didn't want him near you, to touch you, if he did, you'll give up. It hurt him seeing you step away from him, but knows he deserved it. "I'm Sorry, I've neem so caught up with everything, I didn't see what I was doing to you."

"Caught up?" You repeated, the anger in your voice apparent, but your next words took a turn as your voice trembled. "You've been so focused on your career, on your races, that you've forgotten what's really important, I've been right here, waiting, hoping for the old Charles-my Charles-to come back, but all I got are those glimpses and small moments."

Charles' shoulders sagged, he ran a hand though his hair and his eyes filled with pain and regret. "I never meant to hurt you, I just thought that... I thought I could handle it all, I thought you understood."

"I did understand, I do." You said and the tears you've been fighting welled

up in your eyes. "But understanding doesn't mean I can endure this forever. I need you, Charles. I need you to be here, really here and not just you on the phone or in the sim room."

Charles wanted to promise you that he'll be better, but he's scared to make a promise that he may not be able to keep. You knew Charles well enough to know what's going on in his mind, and so the tears escaped and you smiled, it was a painful smile teary and hurtful.

"I can't do this anymore, Charles." You said and you tried to stop the tears from flowing, it's starting to dawn on him what your next words will be. "I can't mean everything to you one minute and then mean nothing to you the next."

"Amour." Charles sounded broken, he loves you and you know that, but sometimes love isn't enough. You've chosen Charles so many times but you have to choose yourself right now, you have to, or this relationship will drain you out. You walk around Charles and head to your shared bedroom, closing and locking the door behind you, you take out your suitcase, and pack your essentials, what you'd need for a week, knowing Charles will be out of the house for a race after that.

When you walked out after you were finished, you saw Charles siting on the sofa looking miserable, you left the suitcase by the door and walked up to Charles. He looked up at you and glanced at the bag behind you. this is it, you're leaving him and he deserved it. He looked broken and it took everything in you not to go back on your decision. You opened your arms and Charles walked in to your hug, he was heavy in your arms. You both held each other for a long while, this may be the last hug you share. No matter what happened there's still so much love that you have for each other making this more painful.

"I'm so sorry amour." Charles muttered in your ear and you ran your hand through his hair and sighed =

"I know, my love, I know." You say back and pull back, you try to give him a small smile. Your hand was on his cheek as you rubbed it, feeling him for the last time. Charles's arms on your waist tightened, he didn't want to let you go. "I'll see you around

Charles."

That was his que to let you go, you kissed his cheek just next to his lips and his hands flexed before he let go. You walked out of his arms. You opened the front door and rolled out your bag before you closed the door you looked at Charles, who was frozen.

"I'll still wear red on the weekends, I'll cheer you on, no matter what." You hesitated before you said. "I love you Charles, please don't make this hard on yourself and don't pressure yourself, I'm choosing myself, so you choose yourself too."

With that you closed the door after you and left.

Being without Charles has been hard, you’ve been together for so long. Even if he’s been distant before you broke it off, you’d always be finding yourself wanting to text or call him. You found an apartment in Nice that you rented until you know what your next steps will be like. Your life has been intertwined so much with Charles’ that it was hard to untangle it. There was this constant ache in your heart.

Charles, on the other hand, was a man undone. The realisation of what he had lost hit him with the force of a speeding car. He threw himself more into his races, each victory a hollow echo of what he truly wanted, his ups aren’t so satisfying now. It wasn’t the podiums that filled his thoughts; it was you, the person who had been his anchor and his heart.

And so one evening, as the sun started to set, there was a knock at your door. You opened it to find Charles standing there, his eyes red-rimmed and weary, a man who had been through his own kind of race, one that he desperately hoped would end with you.

“I know I don’t deserve another chance.” He began, his voice raw with emotion as he didn’t give you a chance to say anything, he was scared you’d slam the door in his face. “I know I’ve hurt you, and I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. I’ve realised that without you, none of this means anything. The races, the wins, they’re all empty without you. Please, give me one more chance. I promise, I’ll be the man you need, the man you deserve.”

You stood there, heart pounding, torn between the pain of the past and the love you still felt for him. You saw the sincerity in his eyes, the desperation of a man who had finally realised what truly mattered.

“I still love you, Charles.” You said softly, tears welling up in your eyes. “But I can’t go through this again. You need to prove to me that things will be different, that you’ll be there, really there.”

“I will.” He said, taking your hands in his, his touch warm and familiar. “I swear to you, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. Just give me the chance to show you.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the man you had fallen in love with, the man who had been lost but now stood before you, pleading for a second chance. With a deep breath, you nodded, a tentative smile breaking through the tears.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “One more chance.”

And as the sun set, bathing the city in a warm, forgiving light, you stepped back into the arms of the man who had found his way back to you, ready to start anew and rebuild the love that had once seemed lost forever.

Maintaglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03

[surielstea]

Wrapping Wounds

1k celebration request

Pairing: Bodyguard!Azriel x Princess!Reader

Summary: Azriel gets hurt and reader feels guilty, so she visits his bedroom and doesn’t plan on leaving until he’s healed.

Warnings: mention of attempted kidnapping (it’s all fluff though)

1.8k words

My bodyguard was injured. Which is a surprisingly unusual occurrence. Azriel never got hurt, so it was a shock when I opened my bedroom door this morning only to find the grand hallway vacant, void of any brooding male guarding anyone from entering my bedroom. He was always there to greet me with a slight nod of his head, his shadows bringing me a cup of coffee before I could even mutter a word.

Instead, this morning I was met with an entirely different face, one I recognized but hadn't been expecting.

"Where's Azriel?" Is the first thing I say to Cassian, an equally intimidating male.

"He's injured at the moment, I'll be guarding you today." Cassian's words were dutiful and I can't help but frown. I loved Cass, sure, but I couldn't help but wonder why Azriel was hurt.

"So he's in the medical tents still healing?" I ask, stepping from my bedroom and closing the door behind me.

"I believe he's in his bedroom, but you're not allowed—" He starts but he doesn't get to finish before I winnow out of his sight and straight into Azriel's bedroom.

It was wrong to use my abilities against Cassian who was incapable of winnowing but it wasn't as if I was breaking any rules, just visiting an injured friend.

Azriel was sitting on his bed, currently rewrapping a wound on his abdomen.

"You can't be in here," Azriel stated without even taking a glance up at me, yet he still knew. I had to hold back from rolling my eyes at his absurd comment.

"I've been in a male's bedroom before," I scoff but he and I both knew that wasn't what he was talking about. We had been toeing the line of unspoken feelings for far too long now, mere inches away from being more than just professionals but he refused to cross that line and didn't want to drag me with him either.

I gather my skirts in my hands and close the distance between us, crouching down beside him and taking over his job of dressing his own wound, replacing his calloused, scarred hands with my manicured, delicate ones.

"You're not paid enough to get stabbed on my behalf," I grumble beneath my breath, my hair falling into my face as I focus on keeping pressure on the wound.

"Is everything about money to you, princess?" He teased and I just huffed, flicking my gaze up at him in a glare. He mirrors it with a quirk of his lip.

"Nevertheless, I'm making my brother give you a raise," I claim, looking back down to the gauze in my hands, deciding to look into his hazel eyes was too much to bear if I could not have them on me at all times. "Tell me what happened," I say, my words coming out more demanding than I anticipated but I was frustrated with myself for falling so damned hard for someone who was simply paid to be around me.

"So demanding," He grumbles, craning his neck to the side as if he needed to stretch, already tired from this conversation. "All you need to know is that some guys were trying to, take you last night," He gritted out like it was hard for him to stomach, but I brushed it off as the pain from his wound. "And I wasn't going to let them," He finished and I frowned, keeping my eyes pinned to the wrap in my hands as I tightly secured it with a clasp.

"It doesn't hurt too much, does it?" I say, looking up at him. He reaches towards me, his large calloused hand coming to my jaw and then pushing a lock of my hair away from my face.

"It's sweet that you're worried about me, but I’m kind of paid to be your bodyguard." He looks down at me with a stoic expression, a hint of devotion wandering behind his gaze.

“You don’t have to remind me,” I mumble, looking away from his gaze and down to his wound, the one that’s my fault. "If I was there, I would've offered myself rather than see you get hurt," I confess and his brows form a line, an angry frown pulling at his lips.

"Don't say that," He uttered. "No one will ever deserve you, no matter how good of a fight they put up." He claims and a comforting warmth blooms in the depths of my chest. I swallow, rising fully but still having to look up at him.

"I think you put up a pretty good fight," I shrug suggestively and he shakes his head.

"I'm protecting you because it's my job, it's just business princess." He claims and I roll my eyes and sling my arms over his shoulders, which he doesn't back away from.

"Nuh-uh, admit it, you like me," I taunt with a smile spreading over my lips, able to read him like an open book as the corner of his lip twitches downward, a clear indicator that he was debating if he should say something he knew he’d later regret.

"You're technically not working right now, we wouldn't be breaking any rules," I add and he only gazes down at me with a faux pitiful look in his eyes, like a rich man too selfish to donate to my charity.

"I don't think that's how it works." He blinks ever so slowly, taking all of this moment in.

"Az," I huff, walking my fingers down his bare chest.

"Princess," He mocks my tone, catching my wrist in his hand before it could get too low. "Cassian will be in here any second," He gestures for me to step backward with a jerk of his head. I wrap my hands around the back of his neck instead, rebelling his commands and doing the exact opposite. But he didn't push me away, and he didn't complain when I slowly situated myself over his lap.

"Please," I utter, begging was foreign to me but I'd do it if it meant he'd finally just let me love him.

"Please, what?" He plays dumb and this time I do actually roll my eyes, one of my hands going into his hair.

"Please, can you just stop being my bodyguard for five seconds and be my boyfriend?" I mumble and a smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

"It's kind of a package deal," He shrugs, his eyes glinting with amusement, silently laughing at my frustration.

"My gods, just kiss me already," I sigh and a rare grin grows over his features, revealing dimples.

"Always, so demanding," He muttered while leaning in, cupping my jaw in his large hand and pulling me into him.

Our lips connect like the last two pieces of a puzzle I've been working on for years, slotting together perfectly. His other hand was slipping up the slit in my pastel dress, resting at my upper thigh, gripping it occasionally and I can't help but smile at his lips at the action.

He slips his tongue into my mouth at the first opportunity he gets, craving to taste me further than just my lips. I wrap my arms tighter around the back of my neck, attempting to press myself as close as possible, needing the proximity of his warmth more than anything else.

He winced, biting slightly at my bottom lip in silent warning and I realized I pressed against his wound.

"Sorry," I murmur as he moves away from my lips and towards my jaw, kissing a trail down it all the way to my neck.

"We should probably stop," Azriel murmured as if he wasn't the one sucking hickeys to my neck and holding me down with his hand on my thigh.

"Probably," I say, slightly breathless as I recover from the pain of him pulling away from my lips. "I don't want to go," I sigh. "I'm safe in here with you, I don't need any other bodyguard," I explain and he smiles against my neck at my words, kissing the area softly.

A knock on the door makes me jump but he barely flinched, pulling away from my neck and looking at where he had been sucking, admiring the forming mark like an artist staring at their canvas.

"I have an idea, hide behind the door." He gestures to the door and I nod with a cheeky grin, scrambling off his lap and to where he told me to go.

"Az, you in there?" Cassian's voice was heard through the door.

Instead of replying, Azriel simply swung the door open with a tired smile. From my position, I could still see Azriel, but I was out of Cassian's line of sight— unless, of course, he decided to enter the room.

"Is the Princess in here?" I can hear the slight panic in Cassian's voice but Azriel doesn't falter when he replies.

"You already lost her?" The male scoffed, slightly amused.

"It's not my fault, she saw I wasn't you and winnowed away. I figured she'd be with you." I couldn't see the male but I knew his brows were bunched. I sort of felt bad for the male, I debated telling him I was going to stay with Azriel for the rest of the day so he should go far away unless he wanted to hear some things he shouldn't, but I didn't, I let Azriel handle it.

"Calm down, she's probably at the library. This castle is crawling with guards, she's safe here," Azriel reassured and Cassian must've nodded because there was no reply.

"I'm going back to bed, no more interruptions I'm trying to heal," Azriel shooed him away.

"Right, thanks Az," Cassian murmurs then a heavy pair of footsteps recede down the hall and Azriel closes the door, turning to me.

"Having affairs with your protectee and lying to your colleagues, how many rules are you going to break today?" I tease, lifting onto the tips of my toes and twining my arms around the back of his neck.

"I can always ask him to come back," He retorts and I frown, pecking his lips so quickly he barely had time to return the action.

"You wouldn't dare give me up so easily," I claim confidently, my fingers twining into his hair. "You like me too much."

"Way too much." He leans closer, his nose brushing mine. He looks at me for a moment, admiring my features from such a short distance, but as soon as his eyes flick down to my lips he can't help but lean in, our lips pressing together and somehow he made it feel like we've been doing this for decades it was all so natural.

"I'm staying in here all day, I hope you know that," I mumble and he pulls away a fraction to meet my gaze.

"But how will I ever get my rest to heal?" He sighs dramatically and I chuckle.

"I'll tell you what, you can sleep as long as you want, you just have to cuddle with me," I offer, and a soft grin forms on his lips.

"Sounds perfect to me." He closes the distance between us once more.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @hufflepuff-pa55 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @ireallywannasleep127 @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-smut @secretlyhers @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143 @bubybubsters @joshysloshy @username199945 @ivy-34 @notsarareallynot @vixenshiftsvrs @aurorab99 @pey2618 @loving-and-dreaming @wildfl0w3rss @andreperez11 @thatacotargirl @123345566 @one-big-fangirl @moonslitluna

Azriel Taglist: @coolepowersthings @lovely-giggles @quiettuba @ilovewarner45 @judig92 @tothestarsandwhateverend @je-suis-prest-rachel

Comment a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!

Comment a “🖤” to be added to the Azriel taglist!

[dailyhalseys]

@dailyhalseys 1k celebration -> gif request for 929

[euphorajeon]

For 1k celebration! How about my time and jungkook with it??

Also congratulations my love 💖

opposite of sun

— request: jeongguk + my time - bts

— pairing: jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff, angst

— word count: 1.8k

— warnings/tags: idol!jk, college student!oc, mild angst (it's rly mild i promise!), they're best friends (i rly gotta stop writing this trope,,,)

— summary: jeongguk has a peculiar way of dealing with time difference.

— author's note: hello luv! thanks for requesting :) i really enjoyed writing this one eheh i hope you enjoy reading it too~

masterlist

There are a few things Jeon Jeongguk does not like about his life as a singer.

One, that constantly looms above his head, is how busy his schedule is. His days are filled to the brim with performing, song recording, photoshoots, video shoots, company meetings, and a long list of things in between. Some days, he could barely stay awake. Some days, he forgot the last time he ate. Some days don’t feel like days because all he saw was the inside of a building. Some days he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Two, the lack of privacy. There’s always someone watching his every move, waiting for him to fuck up. This extends to his closest people as well, his parents, his brother, even his non-famous best friend, you. Jeongguk could not forget the time he accidentally revealed he has a long-time girl best friend on a livestream. The media went crazy, trying to make headlines that would cause the most noise with wild rumors and assumptions. It took the PR team almost a month to divert the media attention to something else, along with a livestream ban for Jeongguk for three months.

Three, the one he’s facing right now, is time difference. As a singer, Jeongguk travels a lot to other time zones outside of KST, oftentimes resulting in jetlag. It’s not too troublesome when he visits another Asian country, the time difference only one to two hours, but when he’s on the other side of the world like now, it feels like his whole world is a jumbled mess.

Jeongguk plops down on the couch in his hotel room, glancing at the clock on his phone screen before tapping the FaceTime button. His reflection stares back at him as the call rings, the only thing visible on the screen just his eyes and sweaty strands of hair. He’s running his fingers through his damp hair when the call finally connects.

“Sorry, sorry! I— wow, eyes. And forehead,” you say in lieu of a proper greeting. Jeongguk grins, even though you can’t see it.

“Hi, Bun,” he greets. “Whatcha doin’?”

Jeongguk’s nickname for you is fairly new, only conjured up after his accidental slip on livestream, but it rolls off his tongue easily as if he’s been calling you Bun since you were both thirteen, when your friendship first started. It stems from his fear that anything has ears and if he says your name, someone somewhere could use it to dig up information about you. Although you’d rolled your eyes at him the first time, he knows you appreciate the thought.

Also, contrary to your friends’ beliefs, bun here stands for bread, not bunny. It’s known to the people who know you that you love bread. Steamed bun, milk bun, melon bbang, chocolate bread, cheese sticks, anything. But despite this knowledge and your protests, your friends still hoot in teasing whenever Jeongguk video calls you and drops the nickname. Jeongguk tries to prevent his grin from blossoming more when he sees you pretending to ignore your friends’ teasing.

“Studying,” you answer with a roll of your eyes, before a grin matching the one on Jeongguk’s face overtakes your feature. “What about you, superstar? Bet it’s more exciting than…” you glance at the paper in front of you, “the study of the economic impact of singer Jeon Jeongguk on South Korea.”

Jeongguk laughs. “You are not studying about my economic impact on SK.”

You hold up a finger, snatching the paper off the table to shove it into your phone camera. Then the pair of your eyes appear above said paper, hogging Jeongguk’s screen much like his eyes are hogging yours. “Read, Jeon Jeongguk. Read,” you say menacingly.

The words on your paper blur in his sight as he focuses more on the dark bags under your eyes. Even through a shitty video call connection, it’s apparent that you haven’t had a good rest for some time.

“Bun, have you been sleeping okay?”

Your eyebrows shoot up and you stare at him like he has three heads. “Jeon, I’m a college student. Asking me that at two AM is like asking you if you’re resting okay.”

Jeongguk sits up from his leaning back position on the couch, alarmed. “It’s two AM over there? It’s— fuck, it’s two AM. What are you doing still studying, Bun? You should be sleeping right now.”

All the exhaustion he felt from the flight, the jetlag, the rehearsal right after just evaporates the moment he realizes you’re still studying in the hour you should be sleeping. He should’ve been there with you, studying and reminding you to get some rest when the hours got late. He wishes he were there next to you.

“He’s a celebrity so he wouldn’t know what this feels like, huh?”

That was one of your friends, off camera. It sounds a bit distant but Jeongguk caught his words perfectly. Although he’s not wrong, Jeongguk could feel bitterness rising in his chest, one he fights so hard to suppress lest this causes a fight between you and him.

“Sorry, Jeon, he’s just stressed about the midterms. Don’t take it to heart, yeah?”

Jeongguk forces a smile on his lips, one tight pull of muscle that’s far from his grin earlier. “No, he’s right. I wouldn’t know how it feels like being stressed about the midterms just like he wouldn’t know how it feels rehearsing for a performance only an hour after you landed in New York. It’s okay.”

Ah, the bitterness still slips out. He’s tired. He feels guilt slowly replace the bitterness when he sees your downcast eyes. He shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Fuck.

“Sorry, Bun. Not your fault.” He sighs.

“It’s fine. We’re all tired.” You give him a small smile. “You said you were rehearsing for a performance? What performance?”

“Surprise performance, actually. It’ll be in Times Square later at six.”

There’s a gasp from your side of the call, before a short squeal is heard. You glance at someone behind your phone, letting out a chuckle. “You just spoiled a surprise performance to a very excited Yeseo,” you say.

“Since when do your friends listen to my songs?” Jeongguk laughs disbelievingly. He knows your college friends by name, and as far as he does, no one in your friend group actually listens to his songs enough to get excited at the prospect of a surprise performance.

“Last week. She heard ‘Yes or No’ when I was going through your album and hasn’t shut up about it since.”

“Thanks, Yeseo,” Jeongguk says. “It’s on the setlist for the performance later.”

A bang on the table. Then Yeseo’s excited shriek sounds, making your other friends on the table groan. Tell your boyfriend to shut up! one of them says. You stuck your tongue out at whoever it was before getting up from your seat, taking your phone with you. The image of you from a low angle as you walk away from your friends almost makes Jeongguk chuckle. He misses being able to see your double chin live in front of his eyes.

“Apologies for Yeseo. She’s very excited,” you say when you’ve settled down somewhere more quiet. “Are you excited for the performance later? Confident?”

“I will be if I know you’re watching,” Jeongguk hums. He fixes his best puppy dog look as he looks at you with so much hope in his eyes. “Will you? It’ll be on YouTube, six PM New York time.”

“That’s … hold on,” you tap around on your phone, the image of you on his screen shaking as you do. “That’s seven AM here in Korea. I’d probably be asleep, though. Midterm’s at nine.”

Jeongguk pouts. “Time difference sucks.”

“It does,” you agree. “But time zones aside, our times are already different. Like, if you have a recording for a music show in Korea at six AM KST, I still wouldn’t be able to attend. Because—“

“That’s why you never come? Because the recording is always early in the morning?”

“No, because they’re always on weekdays. And I have class. Or work. I’m not one of your rich fans, you know.”

“But you’re my best friend,” Jeongguk sulks, his frown deepening.

“Your college student best friend. Who has classes, essays to write, papers to do, midterms, finals…”

Jeongguk is quiet. There’s a pop up notification on his phone, telling him rest time is over in 15 minutes. His manager must’ve set this reminder when he was rehearsing, knowing very well about his tendency to lose track of time when given free time. Suddenly, all your differences flash before his eyes, and it feels like a gaping chasm in your friendship. Did you always feel this far away from him?

“I wish I were a college student too,” he whispers wistfully. “Then we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

“You are, though?” you sound genuinely confused. He doesn’t know if you missed the longing tint in his voice or just decided to ignore it. “You’re still enrolled in Global Cyber University, right?”

“Yeah, but,” Jeongguk sucks in a breath, searching for words that say what he wants to convey without actually saying them. He comes up empty, though, with every combination of words sounding as desperate as the last. Eventually, he settles on: “It’s different.”

“Ey, it’s different to accomodate people like you. No one in their right mind would go to a regular college if they have a schedule as crazy as yours.” You shake your head while waving your hand around, misinterpreting what he means by different. “You know, your fans must be so proud of you. Attending college while performing all around the world.”

“Are you proud of me?” The words tumble out before Jeongguk’s brain can catch up. In hindsight, it’s a normal thing to ask your best friend. But maybe, in the tiny corner of his mind, sits something he doesn’t want to admit yet: maybe he wants more.

“I am,” comes your instant reply. “I always am, Jeongguk.”

In the darkness of the night, under a single lightbulb lighting up your face, Jeongguk sees 15-year-old you, hugging his lanky figure and saying you were proud of him for finally debuting. Your dreams! They have come true! you’d said. Your eyes were shining, hopeful, excited for what’s to come for him. Although you’ve lost the child-like enthusiasm, Jeongguk knows you’ll always support him in anything he does.

Now he’s the one who’s lost. In your eyes, dim with exhaustion but full of warmth still. You have your cheek in your hand, lips moving. The words you’re saying sound like a buzz in his ears, only catching a stray one that’s unusual for your vocabulary: melancholic.

You’re still talking. He doesn’t care.

“Do you want to come to New York?”

Time difference sucks. Jeongguk’s solution?

Get rid of it.

a/n: thank you for reading! requests are still open but pls note it will take time for me to write them all hehe

[chwedout]

JOSHUA FML CARAT VER. BEHIND for @fairyhaos ♡

[rainydayathogwarts]

If you’re still taking requests for this, can you do prompt 9 with Neville? Thank you!

9. Glancing at each other in a crowded room and your friends notice (secret relationship). 0.7k wc

It had only been fifteen minutes since you had come down form his dorm. Separately, of course. However, you just couldn't tear your eyes away from him, catching every little glance he sent your way. You could still feel his hands on your hips from the firm grip he had on them, seeing flashes of him throwing his head back into the pillow every time he turned his face to look at you. You squeezed your thighs together tightly, remembering the way his cock so easily glided in and out of you as you rode him every time you blinked.

Neville's gaze landed on you, making direct eye-contact that was too much for you to handle, especially after what had just gone down. You were afraid that if he looked at you for a second longer, your legs would take control over your body and make you pounce on him, straddling his hips and kissing him passionately in front of all your friends. All your clueless friends who had no idea what went on behind closed doors. Blinking a few times, you looked back up, only for your eyes to widen: Neville was still looking at you, never having torn his eyes from you in the first place, observing your every move as though it would let him read your mind.

A sharp elbow to your side had you flinching, crying out a sharp "Ow!" at Hermione's sudden movement. Peering up to look at her, you noticed the rest of your friends' gaze torn between you and Neville. "What the hell is going on?" Whisper yelled Hermione, a much more appropriate volume than Seamus's screech of "You've been eye-fucking each other for the past hour!" Blood instantly rushed up your chest, quickly heating your neck and face up. "Well-well we haven't even been sat here an hour, Seamus." You retorted, clearing your throat as your gaze reconnected with Hermione's mildly concerned one. "Yeah, because that makes the whole difference." Added Ron, scoffing.

"Herbology homework could not have been that bad!" Adds Harry, exposing the excuse you'd given him to occupy their dorm to the rest of the group. Gulping, you shyly glanced to your side where Hermione sat, convinced she would immediately figure it out. Her eyebrows were furrowed, but just as she opened her mouth, someone else spoke "Herbology homework?" Ron started, "Like the Herbology homework I copied from you this morning?" You averted your gaze from the ginger, desperately looking to your boyfriend for help. "Did we say Herbology?" Neville chuckled nervously, tugging at the hem of his thick sweater. You sighed, shutting your eyes tightly, rubbing your forehead with one of your hands.

"I could have sworn I told you it was Potions work." Neville hopelessly argued, awkwardly leaning back into the couch. Seamus leaned closer to Neville from where he sat beside him, squinting his eyes at your suspicious boyfriend. "No, no-" Harry continues, "Because you told be Y/N needed help with it, which is why you needed the peace and quiet of the dorm." Unravelled Harry, beginning to stand up, pointing an accusing finger at Neville. "Which is fucking weird, because Y/N's smarter than you. And there's no way Y/N needed help from Neville because I copied her homework this morning." Ron's head snapped towards Harry, putting a hand up for the other boy to high five as a whooped in success of the detective skills.

"And that means..." Hermione whispered, her tone a cross between horror and surprise. "They were having sex!" Screamed Seamus, hopping up to celebrate with Harry and Ron, who were jumping in a circle with their arms wrapped around each others' shoulders, immediately welcoming the third boy in the circle. "Why didn't you tell me!" Hermione shrieked, grabbing Ron's abandoned scarf on the couch and throwing it at you harmlessly. "I was going to!" You scream back as he reaches for a pillow this time, tossing it your way.

"It was on my calendar! Hermione- I swear!"

[tiredsmashbros]

[lives-in-midgard]

Bucky dating reader who has anxiety:

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Request: Bucky with an anxious reader? my anxiety is acting up today and i’m just wondering what bucky would be like with a reader who has anxiety [See request here]

Y/N: Thank you for sending this! I hope you like it!

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Bucky is very protective and would always try to be there for reader as best as he can.

He notices immediately when you're feeling anxious.

Bucky is comforting you with hugs and cuddles.

Bucky would hold your hand when you get nervous.

When your leg starts bouncing, he would place his hand on your leg.

At a party Bucky sneakes away with you to get some fresh air.

You like to go for walks with Bucky, read something together, listen to music or watch your favorite show for comfort.

Bucky had the idea to mediate together because it helps him when he needs to relax and he thought that it could also help you.

Doing these things with you also helps Bucky a lot, especially because he also gets anxiety or feels down because of his past.

When you have trouble sleeping Bucky is there for you.

Bucky once surprised you with a stuffed White Wolf, so that when he is away you can cuddle with it.

When your anxiety gets worse and Bucky is not there with you, you text him.

Then Bucky calls you and hearing his voice always makes you feel better.

Taglist:

@marvelogic | @eviebuggg | @buckys-wintersoldier | @nicoline1998enilocin | @kandis-mom | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @noellez-best-life23 | @beaubbdoll | @sgtgarricks | @ratchildspartan | @scott-loki-barnes |  @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 | @mrsbuckybarnes1917

[parkerflix]

—bet u wanna

min ho x gn!reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: enemies to lovers(?), reader is Q’s twin not twin ( tangerine & lemon vibes)

synopsis: your back and forth flirting with min ho takes an unexpected turn during chuseok.

warnings: some mentions of self-doubt

a/n: 1st fic from the 1k celebration! I do have a part two in mind, but i’m not sure if people would like that! lmk ur thoughts!

edit: here is part two!

You made your way over to Q’s dorm, knowing that you would have to see him.

Minho was the bane of your existence, and you were never one to enjoy his presence. He had seemed to be in an even worse mood recently with Kitty’s arrival and her meddling with everyone’s life. You loved Kitty, even though she did have her moments where she was a little all over the place. You had actually met her before the rest did, talking to her sometimes when Dae was facetiming her and you were studying with him.

Knocking on the door, you were surprised to see Minho open the door. He stared you down for a second, the air being awkward between you two the only sound being the facial mister in his other hand.

“Are you going to just stand there or are you going to let me in?”

Minho rolled his eyes and moved out of the doorway to let you in.

Waltzing in, you took to knocking on Q’ door, hearing some groaning coming from the other side. You opened the door, seeing Q laying in his bed still half asleep.

Grabbing his blanket, you puled it off of him.

“Morning sleepy head!”

Q groaned and lifted his head up from his pillow.

“Why are you here now? I thought we were meeting up for coffee.”

“My sweet darling brother, I couldnt just come because I miss you?”

He squinted at you, not buying your story.

“Okay I wanted to seeing if someone was here, but it seems that they didn’t stay the night today.” before he could respond, Kitty walked into the room yawning and seemingly in her pjs.

Your eyes widened and so did hers when she realized you were standing there.

“Kitty!”

“Yn!”

“I promise this isn’t what it looks like-”

You backed out of the room, awkwardly shaking your head.

“It’s fine! I’ll just be out here!”

Closing their bedroom door you heard the most obnoxious laughter behind you. You took a deep breath in, and turned your head to see Minho sitting on their couch with a cup of tea in his hands. You went to go sit down next to him, sighing.

“So it looks like you found out.”

“Were none of you planning on telling me?”

“Of course I wasn’t going to tell you, I’m not your handler.”

“Well of course not, you’re my lover.” you said leaning close to his face, batting your eyelashes at him.

You both stared at each other, and he nudged you away, feeling slightly awkward with you so close to his face. He didn’t want you so close, his heartbeat being slightly faster at your proximity.

“Shut up. That’s not even remotely funny.”

“I never said it was a joke.”

You both started bickering about it, not noticing when Kitty and Q came out of their room.

They both stared at you guys arguing with a small smile on each of their faces. It seemed obvious to everyone except the two of you that you guys were into each other, but if they told you guys they knew both of you would start spiraling.

Q liked seeing his sibling so happy, especially with Chuseok around the corner. Both of you weren’t going anywhere since you guys were expats, but seeing everyone go home always made you more homesick than normal. He remembered when his parents decided to adopt you, saying it would be nice for him to have a sibling that was his age. He was worried that you were going not like him, but you both took to each other fast. Being joined at the hip since your adoption, you always joked that you guys were twins, despite not even having the same birthday. But you made sure no one knew that your birthday wasn’t even the same day, making everyone everywhere address you both as twins.

He cleared his throat which made both you and Minho turn your attention to him & Kitty.

“Are you ready for that coffee?”

—

You had spent more and more time in Q’s dorm now that you knew Kitty was also there. It was refreshing having someone else deal with the guys, even if she did have some drama with Dae.

You weren’t the closest with Dae this year, having distanced yourself with all the drama he was swept up in. You pitied him a bit, being able to clearly tell his relationship with Yuri was a facade. Still, with Chuseok being in two days, you knew that it would be hard for him.

Walking into the living room of your brother’s dorm, you sighed and threw yourself ontop of Q. He groaned when you landed on him, your elbow hitting him in the ribs somehow.

You smiled at the noise he let out, seemingly satisfied.

“Have you seen Dae today?”

“No, he went home already. Something I guess came up? I’m not too sure, he seemed a bit stressed out about it.”

You hummed, a bit sad about it. Dae had left KISS early, and you weren’t able to talk to him.

The front door opened, and Minho walked in, letting out a sigh when he saw you there.

“Oh great, you’re here.”

“Aw Minho, did you miss me?”

“Do you think a dog misses it’s fleas?”

You stuck your tongue out at him, and he reciprocated it.

“Do you two ever get tired of arguing?” Q said, looking up from his phone.

You rolled off of him and went over to Minho, wrapping your arms around him.

Minho tried swatting your arms away, but you squeezed him tighter.

“Aww come on Q, you’re telling me that you don’t think we love each other?”

Minho’s mouth dropped wide open when you said that, never wanting to hear the word love come out of your mouth pertaining to him.

“I could never love you, you’re too annoying.” He grumbled wiggling himself free from your grasp.

You pouted and let out a huff,

“Minnie, you’re being too mean.”

The face that he had made left you satisfied and you went back to the couch with Q.

The silence that encased the three of you wasn’t awkward per say but you could’ve done without it.

Minho cleared his throat and both you and Q whipped your heads towards him.

Minho had always thought you guys were sometimes weirdly in sync like that, and it made him second guess if you guys actually were twins.

“So, are you guys going to Kitty’s chuseok dinner?”

You blinked at him, not even knowing that Kitty was hosting a dinner.

Q nudged your arm and you glanced at him with a small frown.

“Yeah, we’re going, are you?”

“No, I have a date with Lulu that day.”

You smiled at the thought of him going on a thought with Lulu, knowing that somehow he would probably mess it up.

“Lulu, huh? Sound’s interesting.”

“We’ve been flirting since her trainee days, it’s going to be amazing.”

“Well it’ll be fun to hear about!”

Q had said something to Minho about it, but you tuned out of the conversation, sending a few texts back and forth with Kitty.

She asked if you were busy, and if you could help her with the grocery shopping for the dinner (you assumed she assumed you were down to go to the dinner).

You told her you could meet her at the entrance of their dorm building and she said she would be over there in a few minutes.

You quickly got up and grabbed you bag, giving Q a quick hug.

“You’re finally leaving?”

“Don’t worry Minnie, I’ll be back soon!” You blew a kiss at him and laughed at his reaction, leaving both boys shocked.

—

Kitty’s chuseok was finally here, and she was running around the dining area, grabbing the last few things for the table.

You had shown up a little earlier than everyone, having promised Kitty you would help set up. You were finishing the table settings, turning around to grab the last of the silverware, when you accidentally ran into someone.

“Sorry! I didn’t see you-”

“Of course not. You tend to not look.”

You made eye contact with Minho, who seemed unamused. You had a slight frown on your face, ignoring his quip.

Sidestepping him you scurried along, finishing your task.

Minho was caught off guard, you never didn’t respond with your own quip, always being a thorn in his side that he seemed to not be able to get rid of.

The rest of the night you ignored his presence, choosing to sit next to Alex and leaving him to sit with Madison. No matter how annoying he thought you were, he did think you were lightyears better than Madison. He felt off somehow, seeing you act so different. Yes you were still laughing and making jokes with everyone else, but he could tell that your smile didn’t fully reach your eyes, and that you seemed to keep your laughter short.

Before he could ask you if anything specific was wrong, his phone buzzed with a text from Lulu. He had been so focused on you ( and also ignoring Madison), that he had forgotten about his date. You had excused yourself from the table before he did, stating that you just weren’t feeling well. Q had given you a worried glance but you shook your head at him and he seemed to get the hint that you wanted to be alone. You had assumed it was the twin telepathy that you both have.

His eyes had followed your retreating figure, and he muttered a goodbye to Kitty who was confused that he was leaving. He mentioned his date with Lulu, and walked towards the exit, hoping he would find you around there before his date.

You sat on the steps of the school, pulling your sweater’s sleeves over your hands, letting the tears flow from your eyes. You were frustrated for feeling so homesick and wanting to act normal like your brother. He seemed to not be as homesick, knowing that sometimes your relatives could be harsh. He also seemed to be doing well this year, having a good group of friends and a loving boyfriend. You knew that even though his friends were also your friends, besides Kitty you sometimes felt that they felt forced to be around you.

Minho had found you sitting on the steps, and he wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do, or say at this point. He had never expressed any interest in your emotions other than your annoyance, and he also was just horrible at comforting people. Ignoring the vibrating of his phone, he went and sat down next to you, waiting for you to realize he was there.

“Q, I love you but I wanna be alone right now.”

“Well, I’ll pass on the message to him.” you glanced at the owner of the voice you knew so well, not knowing what to say to him.

You sighed and turned your focus on the sky once more.

“Don’t you have a date to be getting ready for?” you had meant for it to come out snarky, but you both could tell it just came out more sad than anything else.

He nodded and hummed.

“Yeah. But you seemed to need someone to talk to. And lucky for you I’m not only incredibly attractive-”

“And humble apparently”

“But I’m also a great listener.”

You turned to meet his gaze, not seeing a hint of a joke in his eyes.

“I’m just homesick.”

He nodded, knowing how that felt. For him he felt homesick with his mother, spending time with her and getting to see her all the time. His father on the other hand– well he had assumed that a normal father-son relationship boiled down to sending presents when he seemed to remember he had a son.

“I know it’s dumb too, but I feel like I’m just annoying to everyone sometimes, and that everyone except for a few people only see me as Q’s sibling. I just feel out of place sometimes. It’s not always a feeling that’s there, but today it is.”

Minho didn’t realize that you had felt this way. As annoying as you could be, he found that you truly cared for your friendships, and always kept within boundaries. He knew that if he were to ask even your classmates you were well liked, keeping to yourself but willing to help those if needed.

“I know I’m probably the last person you wanna hear this from, but you’re not annoying.”

You gave him a skeptical look and he let out a soft laugh.

“Okay, sometimes you’re annoying. But you’re someone that people really enjoy to be around. I know whatever I say may seem hollow, but you really do mean a lot to people. I don’t think people just see you as Q’s sibling, I believe they see you for you. You’re kind, smart, and witty.”

You stared at him, a little shocked at how he saw you. All this time you thought he actually hated you, but perhaps you were wrong?

A small smile crept onto your lips, and he felt something in him swell at your smile.

“Thank you, Minho.” you whispered, fiddling with your sleeves.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but there seemed to be something between the two of you. Neither one of you said anything, the silence palpable . Both of you failed to realize that you were both leaning closer to each other’s faces, close enough to kiss until his phone started ringing.

The ringing snapped both of you out of whatever trace you were in, and he looked to see who was calling him.

You saw his phone screen light up with Lulu’s name and contact picture, and you immediately felt awkward. He had a date tonight, and whatever almost happened between the two of you was most definitely a bad idea.

Minho seemed torn as to what to do, until your voice reached his ears.

“Answer it.”

He hesitated for a moment longer before getting up from the stairs and answering the call.

Lulu was calling to let him know she was running a few minutes late, traffic being bad for no reason. She told him that she’d be there as fast as she could, and that she was happy to see him.

He nodded along to what she was saying, acutely aware that you were behind him, hearing him agree with what she said on the phone.

He quickly hung up and turned back around to apologize to you, noticing that you were gone.

You had left when he got up sprinting to your dorm, heart beating fast and head full of thoughts of what could’ve happened between the two of you if she hadn’t called.

[nicknelosn]

@lgbtqcreators creator bingo ㅡ typography + poster design

ANNA’S 1K CELEBRATION ↳ 🪐 broadchurch + blue/purple/pink for @henwilsons

top 5 rated broadchurch episodes according to imdb (in/sp)