#Hello worker my beloved

[ivefallenforyouandicantgetup]

It’s so wonderful that specific songs can just bring such happy and peaceful and comfortable feelings to you :)

[fraugwinska]

Hi! Hello! 🥰 first of all - big fan, of all your works, from angst through fluff to smut.

I have an idea for a potentially sweet oneshot:

Reader wants to make an album/photobook of all the residents of the hotel but of course Alastor is avoiding it since she's using her phone for it. She quickly notices and sets on a journey to get an old camera and when Alastor asks her why does she care so much about him being in the album, she without hesitation tells him that it's because he's a part of this family and she cares about him. :)

♡ thanks ♡

Heya my lovely ♡ I think we all need some fluff today, and your ask was perfect for it! Thank you so much for your patience and your prompt! I hope after all this wait this tickles your fancy ;> (2.3k words)

"Frank, no, the other left. A little more... Okay, yes, perfect! Now say 'Cheese'!"

The little eggs threw their hands in the air with enthusiastic vigor, chanting everything but 'Cheese' and you had to steady the hand holding your phone to snap their picture while you supressed a giggle. The little buggers sure did look as energetic in the photos as they were while taking them. You laughed as they stormed over to you, climbing over each other to look at the picture and promised them they'd all get a copy before you returned to your room.

You flopped on your bed and looked over your phone gallery - almost everyone in the hotel was in it. Some pictures were little snapshots you secretly took when nobody was looking. Those were your favorite ones: Angel and Husk laughing at the bar, Charlie and her dad, Lucifer, deep in conversation with a flustered looking Vaggie, Pentious and his Egg Bois playing cards. A selfie with Niffty made you smile, her petrified, empty-staring eye next to your smiling face. You had printed out the best of them, carefully working on putting together a thick, handmade photo album.

Taking photos was a passion you brought with you from your previous life - it made your heart all fuzzy and warm to capture precious moments, finding beauty in almost anyone and everything, if the angle was right and the light wasn't too harsh. With your phones' advanced camera app, that wasn't really a problem and most of the residents didn't mind being the object of your lense, Angel in particular was more than eager to get his picture taken. You accumulated so many portraits and body-shots of him, you could fill a whole album just with those alone. Charlie loved taking selfies with you, pulling anyone near her on their shoulders into the frame (mostly Vaggie, since she seldom left her girlfriends side). Husk had been hesitant at first, but after a while, he just grinned and showed off a tad more when you took photos of him mixing drinks - twirling bottles and winking into the camera with a sly smile. Seeing your work, even Lucifer himself agreed to a few goofy snapshots with his beloved ducks, joking that you would have made a killer advertisement worker with your way with a camera as well as your encouraging words. They, however, failed you with Alastor.

Usually content in your company, he, in an instant, was nowhere to be found whenever you snuck out your phone to secretly take a shot, and you could swear, there were times when you were sure he was actually avoiding you. And you didn't like that at all.

You liked him. He was handsome, of course, but also witty and quick with words, and his laugh was contagious, his smile a delight when it was not murderous, and his jokes (though a bit corny sometimes) were always on point and often had you giggling for minutes. You desperately wished you could capture him when he drinks his morning coffee, an image so sophisticated it made the aesthete in you cry, or immortalize the way he casually leaned on his cane when he was pretending to listen to Charlie's newest plans for group activities on film. Yet, you couldn't even so much as reach for the case of your phone before his eyes snapped to you, and he found excuses to escape you once again. It didn't take you long to catch on that his sentient shadow companion was the snitch, watching you and warning him if it sensed your intentions, the damn thing.

So one day, when you were both alone in the kitchen, him stirring the stew he was preparing for dinner and you, cutting apples for the apple-crumble as dessert, you outright asked him if he would take a photo with you.

"HA! No, I don't care for this frivolous digital tomfoolery, dear." the Radio Demon said simply, his shadow sneering at your disappointed expression, and that had been that. And even though you wanted to respect his wish, it felt like something major was missing when you flipped through the pages of the book, seeing the faces of everyone within the hotel except for his. Incomplete.

'And to hell if I can't do something about that!' you thought as you stubbornly turned off your phone and left it on your dresser, determined to go out and find an old fashioned analogue camera. Maybe, with a little luck and another cautious effort of yours, you could convince Alastor after all if the picture was a physical, tangible piece of paper instead of some abstract pixels on a screen.

On to the streets you went, enjoying the strange but picturesque scenery Hell provided. It's colors, shapes, people you walked by. Your keen eyes automatically looked for nice backgrounds and motifs you could maybe capture, and you also were a little excited to return to analogue photography. As convenient and simple as your phone's camera was, the difference in experience was immense. There was a special kind of magic around capturing moments with an old, clunky thing and developing the films yourself you just couldn't artificially replace.

The Voxtech store was a bust from the beginning. Of course, you already suspected that hell's equivalent to Apple probably wouldn't sell anything older than the 'V-Phone 34.2', but to be outright laughed at had been uncalled for. "Analogue camera? You must be shitting me, girl." the clerk said, not even bothering to turn his head from the TV behind the counter to acknowledge you. "Nobody uses that outdated shit-tech anymore."

You left the store in a bad mood and with the strong urge to flip off the guy through the window, but settled for kicking the dumb grinning cardboard cutout of the store's flatscreen-faced namesake, advertising for the 'V-Phone 55.1' instead. Smug piece of shit.

Your search continued through the streets, but with every store you visited - offbrand electronic stores, thrift shops, even a sketchy looking flea market - your hope dwindled. No one seemed to have a single analog camera to sell, and your options ran thinner by the seconds. Feeling defeated, you finally decided to return to the hotel when a store caught your eye. The wonky wooden store sign just said 'Old Crap', displaying a black pentagram globe, a medieval looking longsword under a big porcelain crane and a cathedral radio on a pedestal in the shop window. With a last spark of hope, you entered the shop, ready to give your last penny if needed if they had what you were looking for.

You ran the whole way back home, cheeks flushed and with hell's biggest grin on your face.

The bag on your shoulder bounced and swayed with every step, the newly acquired Polaroid 100 in it's pocket knocking heavily against your hip, and you clutched the small, paper parcel with the packfilm to your chest like a treasure.

"I did it! I found one!", you shouted into the lobby when you entered, immediately catching the attention of a surprised Alastor standing in front of the lobby's fireplace. "Where have you been? You missed dinner, dear." he asked, eyeing you curiously as you ran over to him.

"Out. I don't really know, and it doesn't matter, because look, Alastor, LOOK!" you repeated, almost jumping up and down on the spot as you rummaged through your bag, and his smile faltered a bit as he tried to make sense of your erratic babbling.

"Easy now...What are you going on about, darling?" he asked, confused, and you proudly pulled the camera out, presenting it to him like you found the holy grail.

"See? It's an analogue camera! The only one in hell, apparently, since I spent the whole day combing the entire goddamn city for it.", you explained, and the deer demon's eyes widened at the sight of the vintage gadget. He hesitantly reached out to touch the camera, carefully brushing the tarnished silver metal frame with his fingertips. His brows furrowed as he eyed the device in your hands, and he looked as if he wanted to say something, but you were too excited, cutting him off before he could speak.

"I thought maybe this would be a good compromise, you know, to get a photo of you without it being digital, since you really don't like that! I've never used one like this before, though, but the seller told me how it works! It's easy, really. You put in the film..." You did what you said with nimble fingers, almost shaking with anticipation whilst Alastor just watched you silently, his hands folded behind his back and a curious tilt of his head. "… then you pull the tab here, and it's ready to use! Like this!"

You pointed it at the fireplace, making sure the Alastor could see that you didn't direct it at him as to not spook him away before you really convinced him, and pressed the shutter, the proud smile still on your face.

With a long whining squeak, the whole thing fell apart in your hands, and you stared in horror as the pieces of what once was your camera clattered through your fingers to the ground and tiny screws rolled in different directions. You didn't move a muscle. You didn't even breathe. All that had transpired in the span of the last few seconds was too much for you to process, and you were on edge of tears as your face fell. The initial shock was quickly replaced with despair, and the welled up tears finally fell from your eyes. You felt incredibly stupid. How could you be so naive to think that was a good idea, when clearly, the whole goddamn universe was telling you otherwise?

Alastor's ears flicked when the first quiet sniffle broke the silence, and he glanced over at you. "I don't suppose it was meant to do that?"

You didn't say anything, just shook your head, trying to hide the wet streaks on your face. Alastor patted your hair lightly in an attempt to console you.

"Mh I see... it's a pity, really. I hope you didn't invest too much in that old thing, sweetheart."

You laughed humorlessly. "Only my savings."

The hand on your head froze still. "You surely mean part of it, right dear?"

"All of it."

He looked at the pile of loose leather and broken metal, then back at you. "All of... Why would you do such a foolish thing, darling?"

The question hit you harder than the door had slammed shut behind you when you stormed out of the Voxtech store earlier today. You shrugged.

"I just thought... I guess I just really wanted to get a picture of you." you confessed, wiping your face. It sounded so silly, when said out loud. "It's so nice, to have everyone I came to love in my album, like a family. And I felt like you were the only one kind of... left out, and I just..."

You had trouble explaining to Alastor exactly what was the motivation behind your thoughtless purchase - it all came together so naturally inside your head, but now that you tried to convey it out loud, your reasoning felt childish and embarrassingly naive. You lowered your head, tears blurring your sight, when a hand softly brushed over your cheek. You looked up at him, startled, as the back of his hand brushed away stray tears.

"Your heart was really set on this, wasn't it?"

His voice was gentle and soft as he spoke, and you could swear his eyes had a weird gleam when you barely nodded. You felt your cheeks blush and attempted to turn your head to avert your eyes, but he suddenly pulled you into his side, his face pressed against yours as with the flick of a wrist, an old folding camera appeared in his hand that he held, lens pointing at the both of you.

"Smile, my dear."

A poof and a flash later, and he held a developed photograph in his fingers, handing it to you with a smile much more genuine than you've ever seen. "There you go. I hope this'll do."

The picture was crisp and in stunning, vibrant colors, and you couldn't tear your eyes from the way his red irises seemed to come alive and the how it perfectly captured the pink hue on your cheeks, face flustered and yet oddly beautiful next to his own gleeful, picture perfect face.

"It's perfect." you breathed out, pressing the picture to your chest as tears, this time ones of gratitude and something warm and entirely unknown to you, threatened to spill over again. Alastor tutted at the wet sound, his long fingers tenderly wiping them away before they could fall.

"There, there. No more tears now."

You nodded, unable to lift your head as the feeling of his touch lingered on your cheek and you shyly looked away, hands still firm on the photo and over your racing heart. He cleared his throat and brought a fist to his mouth in a quick not-cough, and from the corners of your eye you thought you saw the faint traces of a blush on his face before it was already gone.

"Come now, there's still dinner left to be had, dear, and I am very interested to know who sold you this..." he picked up a piece of the shattered device from the floor and held it between his thumb and his index finger, the expression in his red eyes unreadable, and there was a certain intensity to his gaze you couldn't interpret, but it certainly made your heart race a little faster. "faulty device. I fear he and I need to have a little word."

[impactedfates]

Letters Unsent - Genshin + HSR Boys x GN! Reader

★ Summary: After their death, you find a letter. A letter he wrote. A letter he wrote for you, a letter he wished he could’ve given to you personally. A letter describing his feelings.

☆ Characters Included (Separate): Diluc, Wriothesley, Cyno, Argenti, Jing Yuan + Gepard

★ Genre/Trope: Angst + Hurt/No Comfort

☆ Warnings: Major Character Death (Not the Readers)

★ Extra: Angst is fun, angst is nice :)) // Might make another part with different characters if this does well // Not fully proof read // Motivation came back cuz of sad tunes/hj

He said he'd be back, that it'll be quick. Despite your worry, you knew he was strong, so he'd be able to protect himself right? So you trusted him. Trusted him so much that when his co-worker showed up to your door with an expression you couldn't exactly read, you were confused. It was about him but...he was fine right? Then why were they telling you he had passed? The injuries he sustained was...to much for his body to handle? The healers couldn't help him? But...he said he'd be back...you were snapped out of your thoughts when they handed you a letter with your name on it. "I think he knew he wouldn't be able to make it...so...he wanted you to have this...even if he couldn't hear your answer"

"To My Dearest,

If I'd ever be lucky to even call you that. Although this isn't ideally how I wanted to do this. I believe I can only get these things on paper, it's much too difficult otherwise. I was never good with words so I hope this alternative is alright for you.

Ever since the day I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were different. Not in a bad way. It took me way too long to figure out the reason for this was due to the fact I loved you.

I loved seeing your smile.

Hearing your laugh.

Loved the small talk we had that would end up with me taking you home. You made me feel something I didn't think I would ever feel, and I'm unsure if I even deserve it.

If I even deserve you.

Whether or not you feel the same way, I hope we can stick together as long as time allows us.

Sincerely

Diluc."

"To Y/N

Hope you're doing well, life in Meropide is still as dull as ever. Well, unless you decide to visit, you really do light up the room when you come by don't you? Or maybe that's just for me.

Anyways, preferably I would be telling you this in person, but more work has piled up. That's also why our little tea sessions have to be put on hold for now. Don't worry, as soon as this all clears up and I investigate this one area, then we can go back to the usual.

I have this one blend I think you'd really like!

Anyways, enough beating around the bush.

I like you.

Like like you.

I love you.

So much.

I can't even begin to describe how much I love you, and even if I did I feel you'd be gagging at how cheesy I was being haha!

But really, I love you so much. I want to be with you, of course I understand if you don't feel the same. But Sigwinnie would have my head if I postponed this confession any longer.

I hope to see you again after my work.

Yours Truly

Wriothesley"

"Hello Y/N

I never thought I'd be writing this kind of letter in my free time. Unfortunately for me, it seems as though fate likes making things harder for me and whenever I want to even try to talk to you about this, it's much more difficult than it was when I practised in the mirror.

Or...

Well...

Practised to Tighnari.

We can ignore that for now though as I'm still trying to put this all together in words.

I would let you borrow my TCG set, you can use it as you please and I'd even let you touch my limited edition cards.

If that's not making any sense then how about a joke?

How does a fruit confess?

They say "Olive You"

.

.

.

Get it, because an olive is a type of fruit, and olive sounds like "I love"

.

.

.

I love you"

"My beloved rose

As much as I'd love to tell you all these words in person, my search for Idrila is still ongoing and I am unsure when I'll be able to see your beautiful face once again.

Ever since my eyes laid on your beauty, I thought I had found Idrila herself, but once I got to know you. Even if you weren't the Goddess, you could almost rival her.

The sparkle in your eyes.

The pretty little smile.

Your wonderful personality.

All those things you think are flaws? I love each and everyone of them. They are not flaws to me and it pains me knowing you think of yourself like that.

Once we meet again, I want to make sure you know how deserving you are of these words, how your 'flaws' aren't flaws and how much I love every bit of you.

Though I am aware I find many things worthy of praise. I want to let you know that you're different.

I don't just want to praise you, compliment you. I wish to love you, hold your hands and protect you with my life, no matter what it takes.

I love you so much, and if I could be so lucky to call you mine. Well, I think I'd be the happiest man alive.

I will return soon,

Signed

Argenti"

"Morning, Afternoon or Night

I'm not too sure when the Cloud Knight will give this to you, or when I'll give this to them. Whatever the case, I won't beat around the bush too much.

I love you.

Nothing could compare the feeling in my heart when I see you.

The smile that will never fade as long as you're there by my side.

You are just amazing. In all my years of living, never would I have thought to have met someone as perfect as you.

Even Fu Xuan herself can see just how enamoured I am for you, although for her. She's been using it as an advantage to do work.

'If you finish now you can see them quicker'

'How would they feel knowing that you're not working?'

'Stop dozing off or they won't come to see you ever again!'

I must admit, they all do work. Even if in hindsight, not only would I still see you even with work uncomplete, I'll see you plenty of times and more to come but I don't think you care all too much about my sleep.

But I digress.

I hope this letter finds you well, take as much time as you need to consider my words and think about your own feelings.

I'll be waiting where I always am.

Jing Yuan"

"Dear Y/N

Aeons this is embarrassing. But it would be even more embarrassing if Serval kept teasing me about this. I've been putting this off for so long, worried about how you'd react.

Your answer.

And if this would change your view on me...but you're not that kind of person. I know you're not. And after a bit of thinking, to save me from stumbling on my words. I decided to write a letter.

Serval should be the one giving this to you, so I hope she didn't say anything to you, I would nearly die of embarrassment if she did. Anyways!

So...I know it's probably not much hoping Serval wouldn't say something actually, knowing her, she gave it away with one sentence but...

I like you, a lot. More than you could ever know.

And I'm more than happy to talk to you about this in full once I'm back from my mission.

I can only pray you feel the same, but even if you don't.

I hope we stay friends.

Until next time,

Gepard"

WOOO FINALLY GOT THIS DONE AFTER FOREVER.

Sorry if any characters are OOC, I tried my best with writing what I think they'd write in a confession letter, but I hope you enjoyed this anyways!

[musamora]

— 𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖒𝖞 𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖜𝖆𝖞.

from anonymous: hello, can i request dazai and fyodor hc's for an insecure s/o?

pairing(s): osamu dazai & fyodor dostoevsky (bungou stray dogs) x f!reader

content warnings: body insecurity, depression, minor partner neglect, protective characters, mentioned nudity, implied/referenced sexual content, social anxiety, panic attacks. implied/referenced murder

author's note: it's good to be back ٩(•͈ ꇴ •͈)و ̑̑❀

summary: these two demons comfort their insecure and anxious partner.

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

These two intelligent masterminds are often preoccupied with plans and schemes, building the world up as the other breaks it apart. However, throughout all their similarities and differences, there is one weakness to their routine stoicism and impassivity.

And that weakness was you.

𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 ✧･ﾟ: ━

It had been a long day of slaving over papers at your desk within the confines of the Armed Detective Agency. You had practically been slumped over, hands aching from writing thousands of signatures on the lines of recent accident reports, your wrist slowly dragging until the letters were unrecognizable as a name.

It felt like you had transformed into the worst version of yourself — exhausted, agitated, depressed. And to make matters even worse, you hadn't had an interaction with Dazai that surpassed a handful of pleasantries for days. He had been plagued with missions for the past week, leaving him out beyond regular twilight hours, with his only remaining time used to catch up on sleep. You didn't blame him, though you were surprised to see him so dedicated, but you couldn't help but miss the simpler times when you would silently cuddle and revel in the affection of one another, tangled in each other's arms as you wished to be nowhere else. And with the loneliness came the insecurities.

"Oh, my dearest honey-pie!" Dazai called from across the office; the rest of your co-workers are already accustomed to his high-energy hijinks. He had returned after another mission, though it was luckily a much easier case than the previous.

You sighed, your smile not quite reaching your eyes as you glanced up from the text you had read a thousand times over, turning to the man leaping over like a bunny. But he stopped mid-hop, sliding over with a blank expression as he seemed to inwardly glitch.

"Osamu? Is something wrong?" you mumbled the question through drowsy lips, eyes barely able to concentrate as you felt on the verge of passing out. His eyes narrowed, those beautiful chocolate-brown irises scanning your face with a hum.

"Let's head home early today," he suggested, his large hand pressing against your back, swallowing his frown as he massaged the tense muscles. "Sound good, dear?"

He could immediately tell that something was bothering you, already linking it to his recent absences — he won't admit that he was quite flattered. However, his beloved feeling insecure and unsure of herself is an immediate no-no. And knowing him, he'd address it through a varied expression of pouts and his stern but gentle reassurances.

A part of him cannot believe that you're insecure — not because he doesn't understand the concept, because he logically knows most people will feel insecure once in their life. It's just that, out of the two of you, he feels that he doesn't deserve you and has to constantly remind himself that you chose him. But because he understands your feelings, he is amazing at identifying the origins of any specific insecurities — and pray for the health of anyone who tries to add to them. He was proclaimed the Demon Prodigy for a reason.

Are you insecure about your body? In complete honesty, Dazai believes that the stars were taken from your leftover pieces — someone created so beautifully that they needed to remove parts of you in order to humanize you. You were always a benevolent goddess in his eyes. 

So watch you glare at yourself in the reflection of the mirror, eyes raking your nude form with utter hatred and disgust as you thumb at stretchmarks and pull at flesh with eyes like blades, daring to sever them off your body, twisted his heart in sorrow. How could you not possibly see how ethereal you were?

In those moments, he wanted to walk into the room, replace your hands with his own adoring ones, and show you the way to appreciate your body as he did. To make you cry in pleasure as he forced you to look at your own lovely expressions, to melt. 

But he knows that isn't always what you need — that it isn't always the best idea to point out your insecurities in such a way. So, instead, he waits. In the dead of night, when you are snuggled in your shared bed under the moonlight, his warm, large hands run underneath your pajamas, leaving sleepy kisses across your sensitive skin as soft giggles were drawn out from your lips as he painted your shoulders, neck, thighs — anywhere he could reach.

"Oh, my sweet darlin'. Your radiance knows no bounds."

Do you have insecurities in social situations? He understands the origins of your anxiety — your world can be incredibly overwhelming — and he is very sympathetic. Whenever you're out together, he watches like a hawk for any possible triggers, checking in occasionally to make sure you're comfortable and calm.

His immediate reaction whenever you've become overwhelmed is to lead you out and away from the situation. Once he has picked up on your tense breathing and nervous expression, he responds accordingly and guides you somewhere to calm down. However, especially with an occupation like yours, that isn't possible. If he isn't able to get you out of the situation, he'll try to be physically near you in some way, resting a hand on your shoulder or back, bracing you in case your knees buckle.

If you still end up having a panic attack, he responds with uncanny and seemingly atypical seriousness, either ushering you away or eliminating the source of your anxiety before drawing you into his arms, acting like a human, weighted blanket as he whispers sweet nothings into your ears, rocking you back-and-forth as he encourages you to match his breathing.

After these attacks, he'd be glued to your side even more than he normally is. Most believe he is simply being obnoxious, but he is always closely looking at your expression and body language, ensuring that you don't dip into another panic.

"It's okay, honey. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."

And are you insecure about your relationship itself? If he was honest with himself, he would know the exact reason you'd have insecurities within your relationship. He was never known as the most committed, straightforward, or bluntly loving person towards anyone. He is a flirt and a fool, and at the beginning of the relationship, that never changed when you got together.

However, once he realized the way his behavior made you withdraw into yourself — the sorrow in your eyes when he'd leave in the middle of the night, the way you bit your tongue whenever he flirted with another woman — he finally stopped and took a look in the mirror. You were the best thing that could've ever happened to him, and the fact that his own actions were causing you pain broke his heart. So, for the second time in his life, he changed for a person — for the better.

He stopped flirting with women almost altogether unless a mission required it, focusing each of his cheesy one-liners and proposals to you. But his actions aren't always that obvious. It can be shown through the simple glances he makes towards you throughout the day, engaging you in silly conversations, or holding your hand with his non-dominant one as he pretends to fill out paperwork, mind focused on the patterned taps of phrases in your palm.

And he makes sure, whenever he sees you start to withdraw again, he goes out of his way to take care of you the same way you always lovingly took care of him. Whether that's through going out on a date, staying in to watch movies, or partaking in steamy activities is up to you.

"I've heard that a new restaurant opened up nearby, beautiful. Wanna go?"

𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘 ✧･ﾟ: ━

You hadn't seen Fyodor the entire week.

He had been far too busy planning his next scheme, crammed in his office at his organization's headquarters, far underground in a place that you couldn't locate — he refused to let you be involved in his plans or with the people under his command. So, instead, you had been stuck within your menial routine, waking up to an empty bed, going to work at your exhausting job, and returning to your barren home.

You dropped your stuff unceremoniously onto the coffee table, slumping onto the couch with a groan as your face smushed into the cushions. Not an inch of your body was able to be moved, only turning to cover yourself with a blanket after a couple of minutes, willing yourself not to cry, allowing the soft fabric to swallow you whole. You couldn't even turn on the television despite your hatred for the silence, finding the only shows or movies featured couples relishing their time together, blissfully ignorant to all struggle or strife.

You were becoming a shell of your former self with each passing moment, burrowing further into your body as any happy emotion turned to melancholy, only wanting to hear his voice again. The house was too big for you to remain in alone, and you wouldn't be surprised if the echoes of it creaking onto its foundation made you slowly go mad.

You barely stirred as the front door clicked open, a brief question of whether you locked it coming to mind, but you couldn't find the will to care. Someone circled the room before they approached your body, nimble hands nudging the blanket to get a view of your face.

"Good evening, моя милая," he whispered, breaking the empty air as he traced the tense creases of your eyes.

You melted into his affections, practically nuzzling into his hand, but even those touches didn't seem to be enough to appease your troubled mind. He would only leave, allowing you to wallow in your own anxiety for another week or longer. The black-haired man frowned at your less-than-enthused reaction, twirling the strands of your tangled locks with eyes that you hoped you weren't misconstruing as concern.

"I'll make us some tea, hm?"

Just like Dazai, Fyodor was immediately able to tell that something was wrong the moment he walked through the door. But unlike Dazai, he remains observant, not immediately jumping to comfort and cradle you without analyzing the origins and best possible solution to your current insecurities. And if the source of your insecurities came from someone in particular, he would be quick to eliminate them with uncharacteristic impatience and swiftness. 

Because out of all the people on this planet, his perfect other half is not allowed to feel anything but uncontrollably adored.

To him, you are incandescent and divine, above everyone else. So, the fact you have insecurities based on such small, seemingly inconsequential flaws bewilders him. He can be harsh and blunt in his statements, but it's only because he sees you so highly. You are his equal in every way possible.

Are you insecure about your body? Fyodor has a fondness for beauty; it is no secret. He stares upon magnificent pieces of art and illustrative manuscripts of writing with fondness, but it never compares to the way he gazes upon your face. You are the most enchanting woman he has ever laid his eyes upon, even throughout his lengthy travels across the continent — and the notion that you think otherwise disturbs him.

You seem to be so utterly unaware of your own natural allure, too caught up in the smallest components of your appearance to understand that, as a whole, you were a masterpiece unrivaled by all. Too busy prying yourself apart, oblivious to the radiance that followed in your every step.

You are the all-encompassing vision of natural appeal and charm, a sight he partially wished could be replicated across the ends of the earth. But he understands the reason that is impossible. You were born to be swathed in adoration, intimately by him alone, even if he was too proud to admit it. He always became soft-hearted to your lovely smile, such a simplistic expression that stirred his heart in ways never before seen.

He would initially remedy these insecurities through his gifts to you, luxurious silks and soft velvets sewn into clothes that perfectly draped over your figure. Simple accessories that only complement your features.

And his touches would begin to linger, especially surrounding the parts of yourself that you are most insecure about. Sometimes, he waits until you're almost asleep, eyes hazy with lethargy, and he traces your beauty marks and freckles — anything that you perceive as a flaw, caressed with meticulous adoration and devotion.

"Прекрасный, любимая моя. Прекрасный."

Do you have social insecurities? Fyodor would study the roots of your social anxiety, watching every reaction you'd have towards people or noises when you two would be together in public, feeling the way you hold his arm tight like a vice, brows furrowed as you attempted to withhold your panic. 

He knows certain elements of situations can be worrisome and cause your pretty mind to overthink, often fearful for the safety of yourself or others. Perhaps it was another trait that drew him towards you; such a human trait it is, that unwavering compassion. And he couldn't help but find it somewhat cute the way you clung onto him, though that's a hint of his pride talking. You are completely capable of defending and protecting yourself, but he doesn't think you should have to do it alone.

He responds to any panic accordingly, although not necessarily by straight-up calming you. With his intelligence and ability to pinpoint your fears, he can quell them with facts, although if he can tell logic won't work, he'll resort to calming you with discrete, simple whispers and light touches, leading you out of the situation as a final fallback.

However, if someone is threatening your safety, he can quickly take care of them through his wit (and a bit of his ability). The audacity someone has to even attempt to bring harm to your happiness and person makes his blood boil. But the fact that they're idiotic to mess with someone under his protection is almost laughable, and they'll soon learn the consequences of their transgressions.

"Don't worry about that scum, любимая. I'll take care of them."

And the basis of any of your insecurities surrounding your relationship itself, he realizes, to his utter dismay, is probably due to his air of outward coldness and apathy. You are his complementary match, understanding his exact thoughts from the smallest changes in his demeanor, drawing out the tiniest trickles of his affections from seemingly minuscule actions. But sometimes that isn't enough — understanding does not equal comprehension. 

Certain assumptions through the lens of your own inadequacies, however tiny they may be, shift your view on position and importance in his life. And he will have absolutely none of that.

Fyodor is rarely so straightforward with his love, even in the moments when you are both completely alone — and that doesn't initially change much. However, he is ever-so-slightly more obvious — blunter with his words, letting his touches linger, scheduling his time with you. 

And he purposefully leaves clues of his love in plain sight, inconspicuous letters left partially peeking out of drawers, Cyrillic letters drawn across the paper in intricate swoops, waiting for you to translate their true meaning. Of course, you'll have to work for it, but isn't the result all the more sweeter. He may be too prideful to admit it to your face, besides in the hours where you can barely comprehend thought, but he is and always will be completely enamored and devoted to you.

"Ты просматриваешь мои письма, любимая моя? Какой у тебя блестящий ум."

𝗥𝗨𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗔𝗡 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗦𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 —

моя милая = my dear прекрасный, любимая моя. прекрасный. = beautiful, my darling. beautiful. любимая = darling ты просматриваешь мои письма, любимая моя? какой у тебя блестящий ум. = are you looking through my letters, my love? what a brilliant mind you have.

taglist: @imhandicapableofmath @seisitive @hauntedsol @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @aquigglewigglewoo @kotysluny

© 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 2023 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[akutasoda]

Hellu

Me again‼️ :D

I would like to request a Lyney, Fremi and Lynette (fluff) x reader who’s like- under Columbina’s care? Like her’s ward- like they just meet on some Fatui meeting mby? I thought about reader having these wings like Columbinas ones but only a single pair of smaller one’s, they’re also keeping their eyes closed (sometimes open them but lovely beautiful amazing Columbina is teaching them to keep 'em closed) they're also trying to keep that lil smile similiar to Columbina’s one but yk they can’t keep it for long so mostly that little smile or just not smiling, not a much of talker, just a smaller version of our beloved Columbina

Thought it would be fun🤷‍♀️

(At this point u’re the only (and my fav) artist Im asking for shots ily💕)

birds of a feather

synopsis - maybe being in similar situations wasn't that bad

includes - freminet, lynette, lyney

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight angst, wc - 810

a/n: hello!! thank you so much <3

the house of the hearth was surprisingly quite the large building. while the knave did quite the good job at maintaining it and attending to the various children, sometimes it became to much for her alone especially when she had duties to attend to. so the only person she ever trusted to assist was the damselette.

therefore entrusting some wards to her in the event she would be unable to attend to them. but when you became the latest child to enter the house of hearth, arlecchino was shocked for your sheer resemblance to her co-worker, knowing exactly what ward to entrust you to.

additionally she immediately told columbina as it definitely wasn't an everyday occurrence to see another like columbina. naturally upon meeting you, the damselette immediately took a liking to you and you took a liking to her as you too had never met someone like you.

and from that day onward, you spent more time at columbina's side than at the house of the hearth. she saw you more like family considering how similar you two were and wanted you to be taught personally by her. afterall she knew your powers better than anyone else.

but ultimately, spending so much time with columbina meant you never really socialised with other children in the house. and even so, the first fellow 'children of the hearth' you had met you got along immediately with. although you weren't that talkative you would be dumb to ignore the obvious signs that you could get along with them.

freminet ★↷

↪when he first saw you, he felt a sort of pity for you. he understood your situation but he knew he most likely couldn't do much about it. and that meant that he did sort of want to befriend you to offer a light that he never had in your situation.

↪you both weren't that talkative, but neither of you minded. most the time you spent with freminet was spent in a comfortable silence.

↪he found your wings so interesting. they fascinated him and he would always ask to have a proper look at them. he did also find them quite beautiful no matter how muched they reminded him of a certain harbinger.

↪same went for your eyes, when he first saw them he asked why you never showed them but answered his own question when he remembered your situation.

lynette ★↷

lyney ★↷

↪she initially never noticed you were there. she hated the fatui meetings where she had to be present, she saw no point in her being there. but when she did see you she couldn't help but feel slightly curious even though nost questions she had could be answered by common sense.

↪but when she did start to know you, which admittedly was a bit awkward as you both weren't known talkers, she did find herself becoming more comfortable around you. you both understood each other and enjoyed spending time with another.

↪she never commented on your slight odd smiling habits as she did admittedly have something similar. but she did comment on why you always had to try and keep your eyes closed. they were beautiful, so why did you hide them?

↪she always found your wings very pretty to look at. they reminded her of her cat-like features. bit she did very much enjoy seeing them.

↪upon seeing you for the first time, he felt indifferent. maybe even a bit of resentment considering who you were stood right next to. although he knew you most likely were in a similar situation to theirs, he still couldn't help but slightly judge you.

↪although overtime as he began to see you and be with you more and more, it did become more sympathy and he started letting down those initial walls, becoming his more normal joyous side.

↪the very first time he saw your eyes he wondered why you hid them but then he remembered who you were spending time with. he did love your wings however.

↪although sometimes they reminded him too much of columbina and by default the fatui but he knew that wasn't your but it couldn't be helped.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Heyyy! May I request headcanons for Carmila CarminexReader who has similar mannerisms to Obanai? (Both live rent free in my head) Have a good day/night!!!

Haha. Awww, that’s cute and I can absolutely see it! I am not sure how it’d go personally but let’s try it out for fun. Shall we! God, I struggled with this so much so I’m sorry if it blows

Carmilla Carmine- Bandy-Bandy

You’re a unique one, that’s for sure. Thats what Carmilla tells herself when her beloved daughters, Clara and Odette, brought you as a brand new potential employee for them. A lonely quiet determined sinner with a connection to all kinds of snakes

Carmilla watches you, at first, to test how good you are at the job her precious daughters give you and she is pleased with the results. You’re quite good at your job but you’re also kinda isolated and don’t talk to anybody but your hyper-intelligent ‘scarf-snake’ friend

But then Carmilla’s watching becomes one of interest… you’re interesting, your behaviour is a lot less than what she suspected from a Sinner worker and how antisocial and distance you are is intriguing for anybody, even her

Carmilla does end up approaching you and she gives you a lunch… despite the fact you already have a lunch and whilst you’re kinda blunt and quiet and uninterested with her, you’re polite and respectful to her and let her accompany you

So, this became routine. Everyday, Carmilla comes over to you during lunch and presents you with a fancy lunch she has made for you and enjoys a lunch break with you. She is more of the talker whilst you listen to her quietly, surprisingly

Carmilla took a while but she’s been relatively open, talking about her beloved daughters, about other Overlords annoying her during meetings, about a number of things about herself. It’s shocking for a strong mature woman like her to even speak on these things with her new employee

It took quite some time but throughout all the sessions Carmilla has befriended and talking to you and having dinner with you, you grew to have quite the big crush on her to the point you get jealous and furious at others being around her… except Zestial, to a degree

Carmilla doesn’t really notice how protective you are to him and aggressive you are to others over her. She just believes you and her are friends but you don’t feel that way, you love her dearly, so much that she is basically your everything… even after you feared women due to your awfully tragic past

You don’t really eat unless Carmilla is and since Carmilla is a kind graceful yet powerful woman, even as a mighty Overlord, she’ll eat with you since she notices how dependent you are… on her? She suspects it’s something to do with comfort so doesn’t question it as much

Carmilla is your starlight, the sugary yet tough mochi that has truly changed your life from a bland hell of self-deprecation and loathing to something much worth it. Now, you can actually express emotions better and you want to give yourself to Carmilla as to express how much you adore her

Carmilla is seemingly oblivious to your intense love for her as she has grown to view you, as she acts, like a surrogate child of hers. She doesn’t notice your affections and favouritism and much more, she just believes you’re a enthusiastic employee of the business that wishes to please it

Carmilla does, in general, absolutely appreciate and likes you. It’s why she still approaches and tries to bond with you to this day. You’re a mysterious, quiet but fearless and strong and willing to rip people a new one. She respects that and it’s a reason she likes you

“Hello once more, dear friend. It’s been quite the rough day. My girls have had the hardest hours for quite a few years recently. Would you like to hear it?”

[honey-crypt]

hi hello me again with request because my brain cannot stop thinking abt elliott stardew,,

so elliott discovering that his farmer was planting pomegranate trees just for him bc I've been doing that.. like, there's a special area for pomegranate trees. My man would die on the spot cuz i know i would if someone did that for me LMAO

a/n: another addition to the ferzia & bee elliottverse LMAO it’s kinda short but i think it works haha, enjoy!!! and follow my moot!!!!

word count: 1.1k

summary: it’s just another day on the farm, the fall season settling nicely in the valley, when elliott finds a surprise on the farm from his beloved (y/n).

★ orchard - elliott x farmer ★

The crisp fall breeze ruffled Elliott’s hair, as he stepped out to the porch of the farmhouse. He inhaled the fresh air and exhaled deeply, admiring the little farm before him. The chickens clucked and the cows mooed, the fragrance of sweet corn and sour grapes coated the air, this little farm was truly home for the writer.

Elliott plopped down on the porch’s rocking chair and whipped out his notebook, “Another beautiful day to work,” he hummed softly to himself, as his pencil made contact with the paper and began to write. Camelia Station, Elliott’s first novel, managed to garner a dedicated fan base and his publicist informed him that getting another romance book on the shelves would only make his image as a writer better. Elliott didn’t mind his image, but he cherished his fans just as much as writing. Thus, he spent the last season or so on the porch, brainstorming and planning the next novel.

However, today wasn’t the day to write, as Elliott stared down the words he wrote out, a series of incomprehensible gibberish masking as literary genius. He huffed and set his notebook aside, Don’t let this end you, Elliott reassured himself, It’s okay to have a block. It happens to the best, but he couldn’t shake off the frustration bubbling up to his throat. However, a small meow greeted him and Elliott visibly relaxed, as Lobbie the grey cat leapt onto his lap and made herself at home.

“Oh, sweet Lobbie,” the redhead whispered to the cat while stroking her back, “I think today will have to be a lazy day for you and me,” the cat purred happily and kneaded on his thigh, “It seems that you’re in agreement, as well,” Elliott continued to pet Lobbie, his eyes fluttering with exhaustion. It was only seven in the morning, he shouldn’t be tired already. Yet, the amount of all nighters he pulled, anxiously writing out idea after idea at his writing desk, was enough to make the most energetic of people tired.

The sound of a rickey wheelbarrow echoed from a distance, the volume increasing as it got closer and closer. Elliott cracked one eye open and noticed you, his spouse, wheeling a pile of dirt towards an unused section of the farm. You unceremoniously dumped the dirt on the ground and returned the wheelbarrow to the nearby shed before noticing your husband on the porch. A smile graced your lips and you waved at him, which he returned with a smile and a wave of his own. What a hard worker, the ginger watched you head off to a different section of the farm, I wish I had their work ethic, his smile morphed into a frown, Maybe then I would have a solid idea of what to write next.

Lobbie hopped off Elliott’s lap and trotted off, perhaps to catch a mouse or one of the chickens. Elliott took the opportunity to stand and stretch out his long, wiry arms. He looked around the farm for you, seeing if he could be of some use for you, but to his surprise, you were nowhere in sight. Elliott knitted his eyebrows together, I swore I just saw them. Did they head off to visit Pierre’s or Robin’s?

He walked down from the porch and onto the farmland, rich soil beneath his loafers. Elliott checked the barn, the coop, the cave, and the greenhouse, but there was no sign of you anywhere. The writer lowered his shoulders in defeat and turned on his heel to return to the farmhouse when he heard the sound of water being poured. Elliott followed the sound, past the greenhouse and into the woods, “(Y/N)?” he called out to you, “My love, are you there?” the ginger scanned the wooded area before his eyes fell upon a simply spectacular sight.

An orchard, it was an orchard covered in a pheltora of fruit trees. They weren’t just any fruit trees, though; no, they were pomegranate trees, the sweet plump fruit hanging from the branches. It had to have taken months for these trees to mature to such a size and to bear such gorgeous pomegranates- and there you were! You were watering the closest pomegranate tree with the burgundy watering can Elliott gifted to you on New Year’s Eve. Elliott watched in awe, as you set the watering can down and reached for the lone pomegranate on the tree. You tugged at the fruit until it broke free of its branch and examined it for any irregularities. Once satisfied, you gently placed it in your wicker basket and moved onto the next tree.

“(Y/N)?” the writer appeared behind you, nearly making you jump out of your skin, “Elliott!” a yelp escaped your throat, “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you scolded your husband. Elliott gave you an apologetic smile, “My mistake,” he eyed the surrounding pomegranate trees, “What’s all this, my love?”

“Oh!” your face heated up, “Damnit, I was going to show you this in a few days as your birthday surprise,” you pinched your nose with a sigh, “I guess I wasn’t that sneaky, huh?”

“You were pretty sneaky,” he answered, “It must have taken months for you to grow all these trees.”

“I started working on the orchard when we got engaged last summer,” you confessed sheepishly, “I wanted to have a piece of you as part of the farmland,” a nervous smile formed on your face, “I know how much you love pomegranates so I thought Hey, why don’t I grow some pomegranate trees? and next thing I knew, I had twenty or so planted and bearing fruit.”

“You did this all for me?” the writer’s expression was a mixture of surprise, bewilderment, and joy. You nodded, “I thought it would be a good birthday surprise since the trees’ maturity and fruit bearing overlapped with your birthday.”

Elliott suddenly pulled you into a tight embrace, nearly knocking the wind out of you, as he held you as close as he could in his arms. You hugged him back and felt his body shaky, as Elliott began to sob quietly in your arms, “You did this for me, all for me? You truly are a gift from Yoba, my love. This is the greatest act of love I have ever received or bore witness to, I- Oh, (Y/N)-”, you rubbed his back while he blabbered on and on how honored and overjoyed by your dedication to the orchard.

To you, creating the orchard was simply a gift, something you wanted your husband to enjoy, but to Elliott? The orchard was a sign that you were his soulmate, that the bond and love between you two was enough to foster great trees upon trees of delicious pomegranates.

After all, the pomegranate symbolized a rich, fulfilled life.

[siancore]

SamBucky | M | 2.1K | AO3

A/N: Written for the @sambuckylibrary SamBucky Summer Bingo 2024 Loving Card. Square Fill: Free Space.

Just my take on why we suddenly saw Bucky wearing the bright blue Henley when he visited Sam in Louisiana.

Content: Getting Together; Flirting; Crushes; Canon Universe

One of the best things about the 21st century was online shopping. Bucky loved it. He could get what he needed delivered to his door and not have to worry about venturing out into the crowds and being noticed.

Shopping for clothing had been a breeze online. He could just go back and order the same outfits that were in his order history, and he was set; good to go. Plain ensembles that were good all year round. His leather jacket was the most expensive piece of attire he owned. It was reliable. Comfortable. It was his signature look. Didn’t need much else.

Though, in saying that, he supposed he might get a couple of new outfits, since he was going to drop the new outfit off to Sam in Louisiana. Didn’t want to give Sam the opportunity to point out that Bucky hadn’t changed his outfits, yet he wanted Sam to embrace his gift. Sam could be quite contrary at times. Bucky wanted the gift giving to go as smoothly as possible. 

He had a plan, after all: Hand the new Captain America suit over, spend some time with Sam where they’re not dodging bullets, and maybe turn on that 1940s charm that he was so famous for. If nothing eventuated from it, then he was just glad to have Sam as a co-worker and friend. 

Bucky sat at his laptop and looked through the garments on this website he liked. He added a few new items to his cart, removed them, then added them once more. While he was arguing with himself about how he used to wear button down shirts his whole life, a notification box popped up in the corner of his screen denoting an incoming call. Bucky sighed and then answered.

“Ayo?”

“Guess again,” came the voice on the other end. 

“Aneka, what’re you doing?”

“Hello to you, too,” she replied. 

“Sorry,” Bucky amended. “Hello. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you James.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked. “Does your girlfriend know you’re using her personal secure line to bother me?”

There was a sound of jest to his voice that made Aneka smile. 

“Of course,” she replied. “There are no secrets between my beloved and I. As for you and your beloved –” 

“I don’t have a beloved,” Bucky insisted, knowing exactly where the conversation was headed. 

“Oh, I think that very lovely gift you had my beloved organize for you begs to differ.”

Bucky rans his face over his hand and said, “Ayo told you about the suit?”

“She didn’t have to,” Aneka replied. “I was in the Design Suites testing my prototype for these new blades I’m hoping to incorporate in the field when I saw your gift.”

“General Okoye isn’t gonna let you take anything but your spear into the field and you know that,” Bucky supplied.

“Hush your mouth,” said Aneka. “Anyway, like I was saying, I saw your gift while I was there. Very thoughtful, James. Captain Wilson is going to love it.”

“How do you know it’s for Sam?”

“Firstly, he is your beloved.”

“Aneka.”

“Secondly, that awful, awful color scheme has to be for an Avenger – has to be for Captain America.”

“Is it really that awful?”

“Yes,” said Aneka with a laugh as Bucky groaned. “But, it’s the thought that counts. What did he say when he received it?”

“I haven’t delivered it to him yet.”

“Oh, that is good, James. Good thinking. Hand deliver the gift to Captain Wilson, get him to try it on and do a little twirl for you, and then charm him. Right out of those red, white, and blue pants.”

“Aneka.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“James, what is it?”

Bucky took a deep breath and then said, “I kinda want this to go well. Sam deserves nothing but the best, and while I’m so far from bein’ good enough for him –”

“I rebuke that in Bast’s glorious name,” Aneka supplied, affronted. “You are good enough. Captain Wilson would be lucky to have you.”

Bucky said nothing for a moment but smiled at his friend’s words. Then he spoke up, nervous but honest.

“So, are you gonna help me?”

“Of course,” said Aneka. “Now, what are you going to wear?”

…..

“The blue really brings your eyes out,” Aneka had said to Bucky, and he listened. 

He kept the blue Henley packed away in his bag. Decided against wearing it when he arrived to deliver his gift to Sam. Though it was not in Sam to be rude or an outright asshole, there was the small possibility that Sam would tell him to fuck off and take the goddamn Captain America suit with him. Bucky was really going out on a limb, just as he had been asking Ayo for help after what he had done. But love, it seemed, made you do crazy things. 

Love? Right, yes. Love. For a co-worker slash friend. They were friends and Bucky could admit he cared for – hell, that he loved Sam Wilson. Who didn’t, right? At any rate, it was all going well. He showed up and showed his willingness to help. Showed Sam that he cared about what Sam did and his life outside of the Avengers – outside of being Captain America. Sam had accepted the gift, while he did not open it, he knew what it was. Let it sit on the docks while they worked on the boat. Kept a curious gaze flitting towards it every once in a while. 

When Bucky had mentioned getting a hotel for the night, Sam had reassured him that he could stay in Delacroix. Assured him that the people there were welcoming and friendly. Assured him that they did not care if he wore his shirts too small. 

Ha. Sam noticed what Bucky was wearing. Aneka was a genius. Bucky was glad he had saved the blue Henley for later. 

…

There was something ethereal about working away in the early morning with Sam on the boat. The sounds of the water and wildlife; the calm morning sky; Sam humming some unfamiliar song while he worked. Bucky could get used to that. He could easily and happily settle into that life in that place. It was no wonder that Sam worked and fought so hard. The place and people in his life were special. Bucky could see that. Bucky longed to have something like that for himself. 

After Sarah had relieved them of their duties, Sam took Bucky around. It was a very small town. There was not a lot to see from a tourist’s perspective, yet Bucky didn’t feel like a tourist, like a visitor. Maybe it was Sam that made him feel like he belonged. Maybe wherever he was in the world would always feel that way if he was by Sam’s side. 

They found their way back to the Wilson residence. Bucky helped Sam set up a training area outside. They tossed the shield around and talked. There was so much that Bucky wanted to say to Sam. So much he needed to say. But he listened. He listened to Sam when he spoke about how the history of the shield was complicated, especially for Sam as a Black man in America. How what had happened to Isaiah Bradley was abhorrent. How there were people, Sam’s own people included, who would be against him carrying the shield and taking up the mantle. Bucky listened, really listened. He listened until Sam had said everything he needed to say. 

“I owe you an apology,” Bucky said then. “There was no way Steve, or I could’ve even imagined what it would be like for you. Thing is, we didn’t even consider it. He said you were a good man. He said you’re the only person he could see taking up the shield. And I believed him because I trusted his word before I got to know you. And he was right. You are a good man. The best man for the job. But I got caught up in my own feelings of – of loneliness and I projected a whole lotta stuff onto you when I had no right to do that. I learned how to live in this day and age, I could’ve taken a little time to learn about how the world treats you and your people. I am so deeply sorry, Sam. Sorry for making all of this harder on you than you needed. Sorry for dismissing your feelings. Sorry for barging into your life because I was angry and upset and spiralling in my own way. None of that was fair on you. I’m so sorry.”

Sam looked at Bucky through those pretty lashes and gave him a small, soft smile. 

“Thank you,” said Sam quietly. “I appreciate that.”

The sincerity and peace in Sam’s eyes caused something to clench inside of Bucky’s chest. There was vulnerability there that Sam hardly let the world see. They spoke for a while longer while continuing to toss the shield around. Sam seemed lighter and it looked so good on him. Happiness looked good on him. He was soft and jovial and even a little flirty. It made Bucky feel like he was floating. 

When there was a lull in their conversation, Sam took a moment to drag his gaze over Bucky’s form.

“What?” asked Bucky, with half a smile playing on his features. 

Sam placed his hands on his hips, tilted his head, and gave Bucky an appraising look. 

“So, this is new, uh?” asked Sam.

“What’s that?” asked Bucky, feeling warm under Sam’s stare. 

“This color on you,” Sam explained. “Gotten so used to seeing you in black. It’s a nice change.”

Bucky could feel the blush spread across his face as he said, “Thanks.”

“That blue, it ah – it really brings your eyes out,” Sam offered, somewhat coyly, which was new. “It’s nice. You look – nice.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He was almost stunned to have all of Sam’s attention levelled at him like that. To have Sam being shy with him. To have Sam compliment him. 

“Well, you always look nice,” he ended up blurting out. “Doesn’t matter what you wear. You always look great. So handsome. Christ, pretty, even. You’re just – gorgeous. Shit. Sorry.”

Sam let out an amused little laugh as he dipped his head and looked up at Bucky. 

“I think you’ve apologized enough for one day,” said Sam, stepping closer. “For the record, I think you’re pretty, too.”

“Really?” asked Bucky, a blush completely covering his face and neck. “You think I am pretty?”

“Yes,” said Sam, inching closer. 

“It’s just the new shirt,” said Bucky, trying to regain his composure and going for flirty; he moved closer to Sam. “Trick of the light and all this blue.”

Sam laughed once more, “I don’t know about all that. Maybe we should get you out of that shirt and test that theory?”

Bucky almost choked on air right then and there, but recovered quickly as he said, “Really?”

Sam took hold of Bucky’s hand, and said, “Yeah, if that’s somethin’ you’d want to do – with me.”

A hint of that coyness on Sam’s part came back and Bucky found it wholly charming and endearing, 

Bucky brought Sam’s hand to his chest and said, “Happy to oblige you, Cap. Whatever you want or need, just let me know.”

“How about a kiss?” asked Sam. 

“With pleasure,” Bucky replied as he cupped Sam’s face and then pressed a passionate kiss to his lips. 

…

Later in the evening, after the pair had made love for the third or fourth time – Bucky couldn’t keep count as he was delirious with happiness – Sam needed to leave the bedroom and get something to drink. He searched their discarded clothing looking for something to put on and found Bucky’s blue Henley. Bucky reclined on the too-small bed and watched Sam pull his shirt on. Something swelled inside of Bucky as he smiled up at Sam clad in his shirt. 

“That color looks good on you,” said Bucky as he dragged his gaze over Sam’s body for the hundredth time that night. 

Sam beamed brightly at him, smoothed his hand over his chest, and said, “Yeah, I might keep it.”

“It’s yours if you want it,” said Bucky sincerely, a lazy, contented smile crossing his lips. 

“Hmm,” said Sam as he climbed back onto the bed to kiss Bucky once more. “Might keep you, too.”

Bucky kissed Sam back fervently and said, “I’m yours if you want me.”

“I do,” said Sam as Bucky’s hands moved to rid him of the blue Henley. “And I’m yours, too.”

[rinstaro]

Bestie, that piece about Wild in Barbarian Armor was hot as shit 🔥🌟

Could I request a piece for Time? I like a bit of semi-public sex and got thinking…what if the chain and s/o are in a town and perhaps a worker at the inn they’re staying in has taken an interest in Time and s/o does. not. like that. So they rile Time up until he fucks them in the open and the worker walks in on them and s/o gets to look on in pride because Time is fucking *them* and not anyone else?

You’re the best!

-👻

i love jealous reader !!!! and thank you ghost <33 you’re too sweet

cw: pretty short!! full nelson cause i really really really want time to put me in a full nelson, slight degrading, humiliation, exhibitionism, time is loaded!!!! reader has a vagina and no pronouns. not proofread at all i literally typed this out in the car

minors do not interact.

to say you were pissed was an understatement.

who did this little punk think they were? was it not obvious that the gorgeous hunk of a man next to you was your husband?

the two of you had walked into the small shop just to browse a little. at least, that’s what your intention was. time was absolutely going to buy you everything you glanced at, whether you wanted him to or not. you were his spoiled little brat and he’d treat you like so.

“this will look lovely on you, won’t it, dear? it’s only 700 rupees—“

“oh my gosh, i told you it’s fine—“

“hello, sir!”

only, the cashier didn’t seem to quite care for what you were wearing. instead, they took the opportunity to show time everything that they thought your husband would look good in. every time he’d go to pick out something for you, there they were, telling him that this piece of clothing over here would look great on him.

“beloved, don’t you like this dress? the color fits you well—“

“if you’d look at this button up over here sir, i think it’d be a great fit! it’ll really bring out your eyes!”

you were so. over it.

finally, time had picked out enough clothes for you where he felt satisfied. by this point, you’d devised a sneaky plan to quell your own jealousy. when the annoying little clerk went behind the counter, you called time by his name, which you’d only do when you two were alone.

“link. i think you should try on this shirt, yeah? come with me.” he immediately quirked an eyebrow, wondering what you were up to. he let you drag him into the single fitting room, anticipating your every move.

once the door was closed, you sat the clothes down on the tiny bench inside. you then turned to the mirror and gave him a sneaky little smirk. “you said these pants would fit well, huh? why don’t you help me try em on?”

your lover gave you a pointed look. though, you were awfully hard for him to resist. he couldn’t help placing a hand on your hip. “you’re doing this now? after i spoil you rotten you still want more…” you only giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“just look at you. can you blame me? you really gonna neglect me like that?” his hands trailed down to your ass, giving it a good squeeze. “little brat.”

shorty after his “scolding” he’s sitting on the bench with you in his lap. you grind on his lap relentlessly while he kisses the daylights out of you. he held the back of your neck with one hand and your thigh with the other. he wouldn’t admit it, but his hips were desperately bucking into yours too.

your hands find his hair and tug, which is his last straw. he grabs your waist, moving you into position. “enough of that. i’ll give you what you want but you’d better not make a sound.”

you thought he’d have you ride him, but oh no. his arms are hooked up under your legs and he literally rips your pants apart. “it’s fine,” he insists, “you can just wear the new ones out.”

he wastes no time pushing into your wet cunt. you moan pathetically, to which he growls. “quiet, or you won’t be cumming til we reach the next village.”

your eyes widened, your moans becoming soft little whimpers. you were biting your lip so hard you thought it’d bleed. but nothing could quiet the slap of his hips against yours. as much as he claimed you were spoiled, he wanted you just as badly. it was easy to tell just by how relentless his thrusts were.

time was so caught up in fucking you to put you in your place, he didn’t hear the clerk step in. his forehead was against your back, his teeth clenched as he hissed to quiet his own moans.

“sir? did you need—“ of course, this little fucker was looking for your husband in the dressing room. once they saw you two, they gasped, making direct eye contact with you. despite your embarrassment of being caught in such a lewd position, you held it. you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. they scrambled out of the room as fast as they could without another word.

when the two of you checked out, the clerk didn’t make eye contact with either of you. time handed over a ridiculous amount of rupees, your arms full of clothes he bought solely for you. he once it was paid for, he took all of the bags out of your arms. he kissed your cheek sweetly, smiling. “let me, darling.”

you smiled a bright and happy “thank you!” before leaving, giving them a nasty smirk that said “i win”.

and your husband was none the wiser.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi, I love LOVE you all for this blog! Thank you for doing this for the community 🥰

I wonder if you can recommend some loooong multi-chapter E-rated Human AUs of a particular flavor. I tend to like ones where there is a meeting early on, a bit of pining, plenty of spicy interludes and not tooooo much angst in the story line. Bonus points for chubby/fat Aziraphale my beloved.

My absolute faves are Under Construction and Car Trouble by @summerofspock and Petrichor and Parchment by @katnoggin.

If you can make anything of this, I'd be eternally grateful! Thank you!

Hello! We have plentiful #human au and #long fic tags, so do have a root around those for more fics that will fit the bill. Here are some with the details you've requested, most of which I don't think we've recommended before...

Lavender Apiary Of Your Honey Eyes by snek_of_eden (E)

The first thing Aziraphale registered was fiery red hair matted with sweat. The second thing was the man’s face, sharp and intelligent and a little guarded, sunlight dappling a spray of freckles. Upon seeing this, two contradictory thoughts crossed his mind: ‘Gosh, he’s pretty’, and ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a man use that many expletives in the space of a minute’. “Oh,” he said, swallowing hard. “Hello, then.” __________ When Aziraphale inherits a small, cosy cottage in the countryside, he finds unexpected company in a gardener he didn't even know he had. Crowley is sweet, and strange, and about as foul-mouthed as you can get. Before he knows it, he's falling pretty goddamn hard for a man whose friendship he's terrified of risking. Ah, the foils of love.

Angel in the Window by themaybedoctor (E)

Aziraphale has the best job a young bookworm could ever hope for—he works the evening shift at an independent bookshop, just a stone's throw away from Tadfield College, where he's only a few months away from getting his degree. He likes the location in Tadfield's cosy downtown, the friendly regulars, and his coworker, Newt. But most of all, he likes having the key to the biggest treasure trove of books he's ever seen. Aziraphale knows that he's not going to make friends sitting in the dark shop at night, alone with a book and some chocolate, but that's all right. He's not lonely while he has a book, which means he's hardly lonely at all. Really. Crowley works at a record shop, and he's got the biggest crush on the cutie working at the bookshop next door. Whose name he doesn't even know, because he's too awkward to ask. At least nobody's noticed. If his co-worker Anathema found out, he'd never hear the end of it. A story about bravery, misunderstandings, acceptance, and love.

Romeo in Black Jeans by Caedmon (E)

Popular fashion designer, Crowley, meets a beautiful man at his best friend's show, and it's love at first sight. He is determined to make Aziraphale fall for him, too... if only he could get Aziraphale to stop running so hot and cold.

and now all of my garden is grown in lavender by ilikeblue (E)

Popular queer romance author, A.Z. Fell, has been lying about having a husband and a happy marriage for years. Longing to escape a string of failed relationships and looking for a fresh start, Aziraphale moves into the cottage left to him by his Great Aunt Agnes. When a TV adaptation of one of his books leads to sudden popularity and throws him into the limelight, his fans (and the press) are eager to catch a glimpse of Aziraphale's own mysterious leading man. Unfortunately, he still has to cast someone for that role. Enter the handsome gardener… Under Crowley's meticulous care the cottage's neglected garden slowly comes back to life, and Aziraphale finds himself writing the most important love story he'll ever write: his own

Argumentum a fortiori by PeturbingPrism (E)

"From the stronger argument", the Good Omens Alternate Universe barristers fic you never knew you wanted! Crowley could be a rising star at Brimstone Chambers, if he could control his temper and apply himself. Aziraphale is on the edge of losing not only his job, but his entire family over a disagreement over which organisations he has granted funds to through his beloved Miracle Foundation, the philanthropic arm of his his family's angel investment firm. Anathema tries to help her old friend out by introducing him to the only lawyer she knows who might be crazy enough to take on the might of Celeste & Sons. Two people with different ways of dealing with their issues strike up an unlikely friendship, leading to love and healing. Lots of bickering, bookshop silliness, boozing, bentley rides, shared desserts and blushing.

Divine Restorations & Repairs by skimmingthesurface, SylWritesStuff (E)

While it's unfortunate for one’s car to break down in the middle of the countryside, the pretty-as-a-postcard Tadfield could hardly be considered the worst place Anthony J. Crowley has ever been. Of course, it doesn’t help that it looks like it hasn’t yet seen the turn of the millennia, let alone this decade, but perhaps that’s just what he needs as he crawls his way out of the Hell he’s endured for the past fifteen years. Maybe the last thirty, if he's honest with himself. Though he could do without the rain. When Aziraphale Fell happens upon him and offers him shelter from the storm in his little family-run antique repair shop, neither are expecting it to change everything. The angel with his white umbrella and his tartan bowtie doesn’t expect this mysterious stranger to be able to fill the timely vacancy in his shop or the quiet of his life, but they’ve both had experience in restoring once-beloved items back to their full glory. Perhaps Crowley hasn’t fallen quite so far that he wouldn’t fit in with the rest of Aziraphale’s ragtag team of eccentric restoration experts. And perhaps they may be able to turn that talent on themselves and each other, and seal the cracks in their own hearts.

- Mod D

[sanguineterrain]

prompt: the first time you use a pet name on steve :) (he actually really likes it. it makes him feel all special and loved and admired) - lavvvvv 💌

everybody say hello to my beloved. say "hello lav!" good, good.

steve harrington x gn!reader. smidge of angst (bc it's me) but major fluff!

****

"Baby, can you try this?"

You've hardly hung your coat before Steve's in front of you with a wooden spoon full of sauce. He puts it to your lips.

"Taste, honey," he encourages. "Wanna make sure I'm not gonna kill the kids."

"I don't think you're gonna kill them with spaghetti, Steve."

Nevertheless, you bump your lips to the spoon and lick the sauce off your mouth. You smile, nodding.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Yeah," you confirm. "First a babysitter, now a chef. Aren't I lucky."

Steve throws a grin like spun gold over his shoulder.

"Flatterer," he says, but his ears are red. "How was work?"

"Good. Not too busy."

"Everybody was nice?" he checks.

You laugh. "Yes, Steve. Everybody was nice. You don't have to crack any skulls this time."

"I have no problem doing so," he says in a tone you can't tell is joking or not. "Nobody should be giving my sweetheart a hard time."

Sweetheart. The first thing you learned while dating Steve Harrington is that he loves giving pet names. Nothing compares to the way he softens and bestows the most affectionate monikers known to man.

And what do you call him in return? Steve. Just Steve.

It's pathetic is what it is. Steve's effortless in his endearments and you refer to him like a co-worker.

"Honey?"

Steve waves a hand in front of you.

"Hmm? Sorry. What were you saying?"

His gentle smile returns.

"I was asking if you could set the table? Think this is almost done."

"Oh! Sure, yeah."

You grab the foliage-themed placemats (Steve's purchase, not yours) and head to the dining table. You don't know exactly what the reason for tonight's dinner is, but Steve loves company and cooking, and it's entirely possible he's doing this just because.

"Robin'll be here soon. Eddie's stopping by too, can you believe? I think he's bringing Dustin, who'll probably wolf down everything in three seconds and ditch us for the arcade. Kid's gotta learn some manners."

"And you wonder why you're the designated mom of the group," you giggle.

Steve rolls his eyes, but you know he's not upset. He likes being someone the kids can rely on. Somebody special.

The reminder of how Steve is nicknameless in your presence returns. He's lovely flittering about in the kitchen, at home for once in his house. You have the urge to push his hair behind his ear so you can see more of his jawline. Steve's a mix of strong and delicate features. Royally handsome. You've always thought so.

"Look at these," Steve says, holding up a pair of tomatoes. "Thought I wouldn't find any this late in the year but the good stuff was downtown. Kinda expensive, though. But they taste amazing, so I think it's worth it, y'know?"

You lean in, overwhelmed by your affection.

"Well, all the credit shouldn't go to them." Here you go. "You make anything taste good, my prince."

You wait for Steve to glow, maybe turn a little shy. It doesn't come. Instead, he stiffens. Your smile slips.

"Steve?" you try.

He turns off the stove. You shift antsily.

"Steve, did you hear? I said—"

"Your prince," he finishes. "Yeah, I heard you. I get it. I'm so removed from reality that I'll go downtown for good tomatoes. 'Cause I'm the trust fund kid. I got it."

"What? N-no, no, no! Oh my God, Steve."

You get up. Steve's already curling in on himself, trying to self-soothe and bury his hurt. You tug him away from the stove and cup his face with your hands.

"That's not what I meant, Steve. I would never make that joke. I'm sorry, I just wanted to call you a name!"

That makes him tilt his head, hurt slipping into confusion.

"Call me a name?"

"Yeah, like... like baby or sweetheart. All the nice names you give me. Except I wanted to give you a special name 'cause you always give me special names. And I chose prince because you're so handsome."

Steve's eyes widen. "Oh."

You nod rapidly.

"Yeah, handsome like a prince! I wish I could paint you. I'd paint you like those Renaissance masters. They'd love to have painted you, y'know? 'Cause you've got the nice jaw."

You trace his chin with one finger. Steve's gaze is indecipherable, so you keep talking.

"And you've also got those big, pretty eyes. You're this perfect mix of soft and strong, you know? You've got features that are really beautiful to look at, like your lips and nose. So I settled on prince, and you're my prince, and—"

"Y/N."

You cringe.

"Yeah?"

Steve tilts your face to his and kisses you sweetly. You relax into his embrace, humming. He pulls back first, brushing your cheek with a knuckle.

"I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions," he says. "That's—Jesus, that's probably the best compliment I've ever received. Renaissance masters? How do you come up with this stuff? Totally blows my names out of the water."

You shake your head.

"No, it doesn't. I feel so warm when you call me those. And I just wanted to reciprocate."

"Baby, you do. Just by being you. You don't have to call me anything but Steve."

"I want to. I'll come up with a different one," you vow.

"No, no," he grins, nuzzling your cheek. "Keep it. I like being your prince."

[mystic-writings]

emergency contact | jack hodgins

pairing — jack hodgins x fem!booth!reader

summary — hodgins hasn’t heard from you in over six months, after you broke up with him and disappeared. until he gets an alarming phone call in the middle of the night

warnings — angst, canon-typical violence, mentions of death

word count — 2,528

notes — a few things: i wrote this back in january, and it was rushed and poorly done but im being self-indulgent for this one | also im not tagging anyone bc i wanna see how far this will get on its own (except for my beloved @shmaptainwrites who indulged me ily mimi)

masterlist | navigation

2:47am

Despite his many years working for the Jeffersonian, Hodgins had yet to get used to his phone ringing at odd hours. With a groan and a stretch, his palm landed where his phone lay on the nightstand table. Without checking the caller ID, he picked up the phone and slurred out a tired greeting to the caller on the other line.

“Hello, Dr. Hodgins, I’m Marie, calling from the George Washington University Hospital.” Why was a hospital calling him so late at night? “You’re listed as the emergency contact for Y/n Booth, correct?”

Your name sent a shock through Jack’s body. “I— I guess so, yeah. Why? Is she okay?”

“Your fiancée was shot on duty, sir. She’s in surgery right now. We suggest you be with her when she wakes up.”

Without a second thought, Jack hung up the phone and flung out of bed. He didn’t care how things ended between the two of you, good or bad, but he knew one thing for certain: he needed to make sure you were okay. After scrambling for a decent set of clothing and his car keys, Jack rushed out of the house and down the near-empty streets to the hospital you were taken to. 

Even though his mind was running at a mile a minute, Jack managed to recall what the nurse had told him. Shot on duty. You took a sabbatical seven months ago, were you back in town? Surely Booth must’ve known, he was your brother and co-worker, he had to have. Did he spare telling Jack to avoid the inevitable turmoil? Obviously you’d been back long enough to take a case, so it wasn’t like you had decided to come back out of the blue. 

By the time he found parking, it was half past 3 in the morning, and Jack’s heart refused to stop beating out of his chest, his palms sweating rivers as he clenched and unclenched them. Despite all of this, though, he approached the front desk with a cracking resolve, trying his best to be put together for the sake of not distressing the night staff and lingering patient family members. 

“Could you tell me where Y/n Booth is?”

The nurse behind the counter glanced up at him. “Connection to the patient?”

“I’m her-” he stumbled on the words. “Her, uh, fiancé. Emergency contact.” 

She typed a few things into the computer when a voice from behind caught Jack’s attention. 

“Hodgins.” Booth called, approaching with a weary face and a cup of likely burnt coffee.

Jack nearly sprinted over to the man, blue eyes frantically searching for answers in his features. “What’s up, man? I mean, what the hell happened?”

Booth took Hodgins by the arm and led him down a hallway, over to the elevators. “We were going after a perp. I told her not to go in first, that I’d handle the hard part. She didn’t listen, the bastard got her from behind, shot out one of her kidneys. Been in surgery for almost,” he checked his watch, “three hours now.” 

Jack deflated just as the elevator doors dinged open. The pair stepped inside, the space empty apart from themselves. “I just— I don’t get it. Yesterday, she was somewhere even I didn’t know, taking some damn sabbatical. Yesterday, I was still pissed at her. Now? She’s in surgery because she was on a case. Because some asshole shot her. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do with that, Booth?”

Unable to provide any kind of emotional support or response, Booth remained quiet as his friend tried his best not to break down in the elevator. 

When the doors opened, Jack attempted to regain his composure as best as he could while Booth led him down the hall. There was a separate waiting room here, for family members who had someone in surgery. He sat opposite Booth, next to a sleeping little girl and her obviously exhausted mother. 

He had no bearing of the passage of time, and felt as though there was no energy left within him to check the watch on his wrist. All he did was sit with his hands on his knees, head tilted to the sky, one leg bouncing like an infinite rubber ball. At some point, a doctor came out to notify the mother of her husband’s successful surgery — his tumor was gone, he’d told her, and there was little chance of it coming back. 

It wasn’t until the sun started to peek in through the waiting room windows that a surgeon called out your name. Booth had been asleep in the chair across from Jack, but he was wide awake. The pair jumped up and approached the doctor, throwing questions at him rapidly. 

“Y/n is okay. Surgery went well, though we’ll have to keep her here for longer than expected.”

“Why? What happened?” Booth asked. 

The doctor sighed. “Due to the location of the entry wound, the bullet caused too much damage to her right kidney. For now, she’ll only be functioning with one until we can find a donor match. She’ll be on dialysis weekly and some medication to assist the working kidney, but otherwise, she’ll be just fine in a week or so. The bullet did puncture the liver and small intestine, but the speed of the bullet slowed enough to only cause minor damage, nothing we couldn’t fix up.” He told them, and a wave of relief crashed over the pair. “She’s being brought up to her room now, if you’d like to go wait with her.”

Jack only nodded, Booth trailing him as the doctor led them up one more floor, where you were being transferred to the ICU. It was painful, seeing you after so  long, only for you to be hooked up to so many machines, laying nearly helpless in a bed. He pulled a chair up to your right side, reaching for your limp hand to hold, hoping you could feel him. 

Hoping you knew he was there. That you knew he always would be.

Booth leaned against the door frame, watching everything with anguish. After you left for California, you kept in constant contact with your older brother. But even in those months, you never explained why you broke off the engagement so suddenly. Why you took a surprise sabbatical, why you went to California specifically. Why you became so closed off, so cold to everyone, even to Parker. 

After a while, Booth left Jack alone to go pick up Parker from his mother’s house. He promised to be back later, your nephew in tow, and pressed a featherlight kiss to your forehead before he left. 

Jack, swimming in an ocean’s worth of thought, barely noticed the sun coming over the horizon in the window opposite him. All he could do was process the emotions flowing through him. Anger, that you left him so suddenly and without explanation. Despair, that you’d come back so long ago and didn’t come to see him, to work things out. Worry, that despite your life-saving surgery, you wouldn’t get a new kidney, or that you’d never be the same again. Anger again, but at the bastard who shot you. Triumph, that he was rotting in a cell right now. 

 Jack’s only comfort in the sterile, whitewashed room was the steady beeping emanating from the heart monitor, a small assurance that you were okay. His hand remained clasped over yours for hours, thumb stroking the smooth skin on the back of your hand. Partly as a comfort to himself that you were still there, but mostly, he believed, a comfort to you. He hoped you could feel it; that you could feel his presence. He hoped his presence comforted you. 

By the time you woke up, all the worry had faded from Jack’s body and exhaustion had taken its place. He was asleep, head supported by his arm on the side of the chair, when he heard the sheets rustle in the bed. 

Somehow, in all your years of work, this was the first time you ended up in the hospital due to a job-related injury. It wasn’t the first time you woke up dazed after a surgery with little memory of how you got there, though. 

The sheets, despite being thin, weighed down your legs and torso, providing warmth and comfort. You could feel the leads for the heart monitor stuck to your chest, irritating your skin in the slightest bit. There was a cannula feeding oxygen into your system, though it rubbed the skin on the back of your ears uncomfortably. The main thing, though, was that your torso hurt. 

Despite that, you managed to notice something weighing down your right hand. It was warm, warmer than the blankets. And heavier. Garnering the courage to open your eyes, you blinked to adjust to the sunlight and fluorescent lights, trying to shift yourself upward, wincing when it pulled on your wound. Instead, you glanced over at your hand, only to find another on top of it. Following the arm connected to it, your heart stuttered and cracked when you found a sleeping Hodgins sitting next to your bed. Emotion swelled within your chest and tear ducts just at the sight of him, sleeping so peacefully next to you, his hand over yours in a firm grasp, as if that was the only thing that assured him that you were really here. 

Slowly, quietly, you tried to pull your hand out from under Jack’s, only for the movement to wake him up. He stretched with a deep inhale, blinking rapidly as he took in his surroundings. It wasn’t until he noticed you were awake that he seemed to come to his senses. 

“Hey,” he nearly whispered. “How’re you feeling?”

You bit back a scoff. “Terrible. First job back and of course I had to get myself shot.” 

Jack fought a smile, scooting forward to raise the bed up for you to sit properly. “They said they got all the fragments of the bullet during surgery. You’re down a kidney for now, though.”

You only nodded, allowing yourself some time to gather your thoughts. “Why are you here, Hodgins?”

“Apparently, I’m still your emergency contact.” He told you, sitting back down and resting his elbows on his knees. “And apparently, I still care about you enough to show up.” 

“Don’t put that on me.” You whispered, chest restricting as tears fought their way back to your waterline. “You can’t say that to me. Not after what I did to you. You should hate me. I mean, really hate me. Like, praying for my downfall, kind of hate. You shouldn’t still care about me.”

“Well, apparently I do. I thought I hated you, for a long time. But I guess I don’t.” Jack sighed,  taking your hand. You wanted to protest, to pull away, but you let him. “I guess this was a wakeup call for me. Literally. They called me at 3 in the morning to tell me you were in surgery.”

You laughed, a wet sound underlined with sadness. “I’m sorry, Jack. Really, I am. I just…”

“What, don’t love me? It’s okay. I’ve learned to live with it.” 

Even when he should hate you, Jack still understood, and even worse, he still loved you. He was, somehow, the world’s most understanding man. God, you love him. 

“No, no I don’t hate you. Actually, it’s the opposite. I just wish things could’ve gone differently.” 

Now Jack was just confused. “What d’you mean? You broke up with me for a reason, right? You told me you didn’t love me anymore.”

“It’s too complicated, Jack. I want to explain it all to you, really, but it’s not safe. I don’t know if or when it will be, and I won’t blame you if you want to find someone else, or if you already have. You deserve to be happy, Jack. You should move on from me.” 

“I don’t want anyone else.” Jack said, emphasizing each word and squeezing your hand. “I just want you. From the moment I met you, I knew you were it for me, Y/n. Even with your brother breathing down my neck to not even think about pursuing our relationship. It was terrifying, but I ignored it. Because you were too important to have in my life. I couldn’t risk passing you up. I just don’t understand why you ended things so suddenly.”

The tears that you had been attempting to keep at bay for this entire conversation now flowed freely down your cheeks, the emotions you’d kept close to your chest for nearly a year now breaking free. Jack, like the gentleman he was, gently tilted your head toward him, reaching up and using the pads of his thumbs to brush them from your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, daring to look him in the eye. 

“Don’t be.” He whispered. 

“I have to be. I hurt you. I ruined everything. And it wasn’t even worth it. It  didn’t change anything.”

Despite his confusion, Jack said nothing. He simply stood to his full height and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you into his chest — minding your wounds and stroking your hair. “It’s okay. You’re home now. We can fix this.”

“No we can’t.” You shook your head, looking up at him. “Jack, there’s nothing left to fix. Because if we fix it, you’ll die.” 

After what felt like an eternity of swirling, spiraling thoughts, Jack found his voice. “What?”

“That’s why I left.” You said. “I was ordered to. I was working on a case, some underground organized crime syndicate. I found out some stuff I shouldn’t have. My hands were tied, I had no choice.” Choking back a sob, you wiped the tears from your face and took a breath. “It was either break up with you, call off the wedding, and leave, or everyone I loved would die. They were gonna kill you, kill Seeley and Parker, and drain your accounts. There was nothing I could do.” 

Jack pulled you in tighter, his whole worldview shifting and turning on an axis. He couldn’t speak — hell, he could barely even think right now. Jack had spent months grieving your relationship, questioning why you broke things off, harboring a ruthless anger at what his life had become, and all of it faded to dust in an instant. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, pulling Jack back to the present. “I work with these people, Jack. They could ruin me in an instant.” 

“We’ll fix this, I promise.” Jack declared, and despite the fear that had overridden your senses for the past few months, you couldn’t help but believe him. 

You only nodded, curling further into him as best as you could with your incisions. Fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie, you listened to the beat of his heart beneath you and took a deep breath. 

Soon enough, you were drifting off to sleep with the firm belief that soon enough, with the help of your family, somehow, everything would be okay. 

if you want more jack fics, please feel free to comment and let me know!! writing for smaller characters is always a gamble but if people read this i’d be more than happy to do so!

[calicovobo]

Cat Chronicles

Summary: The snippets of life captured by a stray cat. 

Word Count: 927

A/N: Hello! This is my first piece of writing on this page, I hope you enjoy! <3

Part Two

You loved looking at buildings. As a cat who barely reaches the bottom of a park bench, buildings were always so tall and intriguing. The buildings with the pretty string lights draped across to the classic solid concrete ones that parents warn their children not to get close to unless they wanted to get taken by some villain, you loved them all. They each had their own story, inside and out. 

But, what you really loved about buildings was the amazing fight scenes you got to see with a front row view, watching as the heroes with their typical flashy quirks chase and take down villains. And while excited pedestrians had to stay back and cheer from a distance, you got to be right up close to the battle scene. You admit that you were quite a fan of these heroes, and in a classic cat feature, the bright lights never failed to catch your eye.

No one noticed you in your hiding spots next to dumpsters or in alleyways. It was perfect for your small and flexible body, and when the fight was as dramatic as they are, the attention is always pinpointed in a separate direction from you. 

“Great capture tonight Eraserhead, you just gotta finish up signing some forms and we’ll take care of the clean-up.” 

After a rather mediocre battle at 2AM, Aizawa couldn’t wait to go home and sleep. But as he was watching the clean-up crew start moving debris and damaged parts around the area, he saw in the corner of his eye a small figure trapped under a slanted plank of wood. 

‘Aw great, how am I supposed to get out of this’ you thought as you watched this giant piece of wood encapsulate your hiding spot. You just wanted to watch the infamous Eraserhead take down a villain! But instead your excitement made you too greedy for action and you found yourself trapped when they were battling. The slanted plank fell low enough to the point that you couldn’t fit to escape. 

‘Maybe I can slither into this tiny crack…yeah that may work- or or maybe when they do recycling tomorrow I can run out and leave!’ With your brain rushing to come up with ideas, you didn’t notice the slow but deliberate footsteps coming your way. 

“Come here, sorry for getting you caught up in the fight.” Startled, you watched as he, with his big strong muscles hidden by his classic dark fabric, lifted the plank and set it aside roughly. Looking up at him with your big green eyes and tri-colored fur, he was enamored by just how cute you were. Your calico coat was just so pretty and with those kind eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder if you were someone's beloved pet they lost. 

‘Big hero man is looking at me!’ You couldn’t believe that the hero of the night just became your personal hero! What a dream come true to be so close to one of your many idols! Your enthusiastic chirps and meows brought a soft smile to the tired hero’s face. 

“I’m glad one of us has enough energy to last the night.” Though he adored your obvious passionate energy, he couldn’t help but worry if you really were someone’s pet with just how trusting you are. He gladly complied as your warm body curled around and rubbed against his legs, just begging for pets. 

“Does this cat have an owner?” Aizawa asked as a member of the clean-up crew walked past with his big hands still giving you rubs. 

The worker was surprised as Eraserhead was infamous for leaving right away after his duty was done. “H-huh? Um, no I don’t think I’ve ever seen that cat before. Maybe it belongs to one of the buildings nearby and just got lost? I can contact the shelter to get it out of your way.” 

“No need. I can deal with it.” Aizawa said as he continued complying to your needy cravings of pets. The scene would make anyone freeze in their steps; a hero known for their deadpan and tired attitude petting a very happy and affectionate calico cat who was sticking to him like glue. 

‘Oh my gosh I love him!. Right there right there! It feels so good.’ It was impossible not to hide your pleasure as Aizawa rubbed behind your ears. You were putty in his hands and didn’t want the night to ever end! 

“Do you belong to anyone tiny? I have to go soon, got a class full of brats to teach tomorrow, tch.” He knew you couldn’t answer him but he didn’t want to leave you out here all alone. He was aware of the animal and cat haters who weren’t afraid to kick you aside, especially with how friendly you are towards humans. But, as the sky continued to get darker and as he remembered that he had an early class to attend to tomorrow, he knew he had to leave eventually. 

Aizawa had thoughts of just taking you into his arms and bringing you home with him but, if you really did have a family looking for you, he didn’t want to take you from that spot just yet. You looked at him curiously as he spiraled into a mental debate with himself. And, just as he was about to make his decision, you gave him one last head bump to his leg and hurried away. 

You loved humans but you were a cat meant to explore and venture, nothing could hold you back!

[into-deepspace]

out of the black {part 1/3}

sylus/mc • gender neutral mc • 1k • ao3 link • part 2 • requests open reblogs appreciated!!

pre-relationship || the real OTP here is MC/sylus's money :) || annoyances to lovers Summary: Sylus gifts MC his card for their troubles, and finds that their taste is very different than what he's used to. Some encouragement is in order, don't you think?

“That’ll be six fifty-nine,” the tea shop worker says cheerily. MC nods, glancing down briefly to pull their wallet from their pocket. It’s been a long day, and on their way out of the office they’d decided that if it was a pick-me-up they wanted, then it was a pick-me-up that they’d have.

So, they’d gone slightly out of their way, parking their bike outside the tea shop they’ve frequented. They take off their helmet and fix their hair as best at they can without a mirror as they walk in. From there, it’s a simple task of waiting and deciding just what they want before they order.

Now, here they are, the last little obstacle between them and their beloved boba tea the tablet in front of them. They pull their card from their wallet…

And pause.

Right. They’d forgotten about the new card nestled behind their usual debit.

As they’d started getting closer with Sylus (maybe a bit closer than they should be getting), he’d gifted them a copy of his card. His stupid fucking black card, that he’d held almost carelessly between two fingers as he’d reached it out to them about a week or so ago.

“A treat for your troubles,” he’d smirked, and then pulled one of those little vinyl card stickers in a dark, metallic green from his pocket. “In case you don’t want the world knowing just what kind of card you’ve got in that little wallet of yours.” MC had scowled at him; how the hell he knew these stupid little details about them, they have no clue.

Not wanting to quarrel with Sylus (and knowing they’d lose), they just took the card, sitting down in a fancy nearby chair to apply the sticker because they really did not want someone catching a glimpse of this card in their pocket.

They hadn’t really planned on using it, thus why it was behind their own card. But, here they are, contemplating. They thumb at the card for a brief moment.

It’s a few dollars less from their own account. They’re not tight on money, but they definitely keep to a budget, and a few extra dollars here could mean another night of hot pot or a few more stuffed animals later. And, well, Sylus had invited them to spend freely.

They pull out the card, select the 25% tip option, and tap it to the scanner. The total comes to eight dollars and twenty-four cents, and they bite at their lip. It’s a bit much to spend on a single cup of boba tea, but Sylus shouldn’t miss it too bad, right?

A few minutes of waiting later, and they’re walking out with a cup of mango tea and a yellow straw, tucking both into their bag for the drive home. As they swing one leg over their bike, their phone buzzes. Curiously, they pause to unlock it and view the text.

New Message from Rich Asshole 6:27 PM

Do you think so lowly of me, sweetheart?

Attached is an image, a screenshot to be precise, of Sylus’s bank transactions. The contrast that MC immediately catches is almost funny.

Most of the screen consists of several large purchases, anywhere from a couple hundred to several tens of thousands of dollars. Then, at the very top and circled in red, is the eight dollar purchase MC had just made. They sigh, putting their phone back in their pocket.

Just as they merge back into the bustling Linkon traffic, their phone rings, the sound coming through their helmet. With an exasperated “Oh, my god,” they tap the side of their helmet to pick up the call.

“Hello, sweetie,” Sylus says, in that infuriatingly nice voice of his. MC glares at the traffic light they’ve just stopped at.

“What do you want.”

“Eight whole dollars,” Sylus begins, and MC can hear the stupid smirk through the phone. “And twenty-three cents. Have I failed to imbue you with a taste for the finer things in life?” The light turns green. 

“Twenty-four cents,” they say, correcting him.

“It’s worse than I thought.”

MC sighs, turning on their right blinker and merging into the corresponding lane, making a turn just a moment later.

“Did you just call to talk about my apparently lacking spending habits?” they ask. Sylus really does seem like the kind of guy to get pissy that the latest object of his interest isn’t using his assets as frivolously as they could be.

“What did you buy?” Sylus asks, completely ignoring the question. MC knows better than to try and steer the conversation back.

“Mango tea,” they reply.

“What grade?”

“Uh. Commercial?” At this, Sylus laughs, a deep and smooth thing that MC can practically hear dollar signs in. MC groans. “God, Sylus, can’t I just enjoy my eight dollar tea? That’s overpriced for us peasants, you know.” Sylus hums again, infuriating as usual.

“You don’t need to be shy, you know,” he says. “I have more than enough to provide for you ten times over.”

“What are you, my sugar daddy?” MC scoffs, turning onto the street where the Hunters’ apartments are. “You’re like those stereotypical rich boyfriends on social media, ‘Ohhh look at what I bought my girlfriend, isn’t it so expensive? Aren’t I so rich? Look how I gift her my black card so she can spend thousands of dollars a day.’”

“I wouldn’t mind if you spent a few thousand a day,” Sylus says, voice casually earnest, missing the entire point. “Do you have such purchases in mind?”

“I can’t stand you,” MC says in lieu of an answer. “I’m hanging up on you now.” And, before he can answer, they do. They cut the call with another tap to their helmet as they park their bike on the street, taking a heavy breath as they take off their helmet once more.

They think about Sylus’s words as they walk up the few flights of stairs to their apartment, and as they unlock their door, a resolve settles in their mind. It’s a bit petty, maybe, but they find that they don’t care, fuelled by annoyance.

Sylus wants them to spend his money, huh? Well, then that’s exactly what they’ll do.

[starflungwaddledee]

kirbytober 2023 21 + 26 : fav characters + ship [ prev || next ]

putting this at the top because it's extremely important but i received a message implying that some folks headcanon these two as drastically different ages. you may headcanon whatever you like of course, but in my work i firmly think that they're both full adults who are at least 25+. this is abundantly clear in my work. i'm not interested in headcanoning any of them as literal children and i would never touch that shit. dni if you think that sort of ship would actually be okay. don't be a freak. thanks.

very typical to take your favs and then also shove them together but isn't that the point. anyway i have literally never seen anybody else ship them (if you're out there... hello... 😭) despite them both being very main characters and i don't know why?? they could be so cute i think...

they are both industrious adventurers, prolific hard-workers (team task doers), and a little cheekily competitive!

i think that bandee is no stranger to a wide variety of close and intense relationships; he's beloved by many and loves them all equally but distinctly in turn. magolor on the other hand has been sooo isolated and lonely for such a long-ass time, he barely knows how to be friends let alone really care for someone. bandee is smart enough to be suitably wary but kind enough to give him a chance despite that, which i think would knock him off his non-existent feet instantly. in reply, magolor could give him something unique by loving and prioritising him utterly singularly, in a way bandee wouldn't even have realised he was missing

in awtdy (pictured in the sketch page; if you see a tattered looking magolor in my art it's probably this au) in particular they are both thrown into the angst soup together and come out insanely trauma bonded at the hip. their friendship/relationship is central to the plotline; together they're working on a solution to the timeline anomaly, while also hiding that they even really know each other the whole time

[caustinen]

Loving your Hollywood Clegan AU so much!

Curious though...how do they transition when their relationship becomes public? Are there any issues with fan backlash? Or being an openly gay actor? What about the increased paparazzi attention or stalkerish fans? :O

Hello lovely person!! As usual this got a bit long but I hope it answers the question a bit at least 😂💘

To start off with, I usually reimagine my fics in worlds that don’t have homophobia because I personally don’t enjoy writing it/making it a plot point, there’s so much amazing art in all forms dealing with it that it doesn’t feel like trying to erase a very real problem/ignore it because obviously it unfortunately is a big part of queer experience for a lot of people, it’s just that I like to imagine worlds where that isn’t a factor just so there’s also places to escape that, esp in silly fanfiction that I write – that’s what I also enjoy to read as a queer person myself! So while it would definitely give this au a lot of depth, I’m at least not right now including that in these replies <3

As for the other stuff, I have not thought about it a lot even though these should be kinda the main questions for this au… So let’s think about it!

Paparazzi – John dislikes paparazzi as much as anyone but Gale despises them. He finds it a bit invasive but kind of a “part of the job” con for John and later their relationship in the public when it happens when arriving to/leaving events, but when he first catches someone taking his picture while leaving the gym or his office he gets very antsy. This creates some tensions for a bit as John understands his stress but also feels like they talked about it beforehand and now he can’t really do anything about it. When they’re out together and they spot paparazzi John always tries to block Gale from the sight, pull him behind himself or guide them some other way. They love to travel and it’s also easier to avoid being spotted when they’re away from LA/New York. It’s bad for the first few months but eventually the attention on them eases up a bit and they can go back to the new normal with only occasional encounters with the paparazzi; Gale also grows more accustomed to it and knows how to dress to and act to hide & make it a bit less intense.

Fan backlash – I think this would be an interesting thing to explore. Even though a lot of the fans are just happy for John, there are also some who have become too parasocial/illusioned about him after being fans for years (and he is a heartthrob and charming and widely accepted as “boyfriend material”) that they get upset when the relationship is revealed, starting to talk shit on social media about John never having been genuine and has only been lying to his fans meaning he never actually cared about them, and through that getting to insult his work and that they only went to see it because he’s hot but now it’s ruined. John was also shipped with a lot of his previous castmates and some shippers are also upset and saying he “setteled” for Gale who’s “just an ordinary office worker” when he could’ve had a flashy Hollywood Romance – while many see his fiancés shyness and soft-spokeness in public as adorable, some say he doesn’t match John’s vibe at all, and the fact that John also seems different with him is not a good thing and they start to psychoanalyze their relationship. John couldn’t care less for some angry comments on his insta but some of the hate is directed towards Gale, and he’s a bit taken aback when he starts to receive DM’s telling him to leave John immediately and accusing him of manipulating him into a relationship with “someone like him”. John is obviously very upset by all of this but Gale reminds him that he’s seen it all at work and can handle himself.

Stalkers – The other extreme of Gale haters would then be the people who get like way into him real fast, he’s beloved by the masses, sure, but these people are more like a cult (probably of the similar style of fan as the one’s who turn against John in the previous point, like highkey parasocial behavior but when John starts to date publicly it’s like “no, he’s OUR boyfriend” but not in a funny way you know). The line is blurred to some people what it means that John revealed he has a partner, it’s not a ”new part of him” but a real person of his own that happens to be dating their favorite actor, and this gets lost on some people who start to treat him almost like he was Bucky’s pet (idk if this makes any sense but like as if he was just a cute little thing he can post pics about and doesn’t really have an agency of their own AND the fans feel like they ”know him” when they actually know nothing about him except that he’s dating their idol). Gale’s not expecting to get any “fans” of his own, so he’s a bit weary when he’s asked to take pics with people without John or given stuff on red carpets etc, and especially when people really cross boundaries and try to gift him/them like condoma or sex toys or lingerie (I’m thinking of that one interview where they showed Austin his fan merch and there was the thong with his face on it and I’m thinking someone gifting a similar one of Bucky to him and him being absolutely horrified) or something else kinda projecting their own fantasies into them, or playing it off as a joke while it’s actually really distrurbing — just because they’re out doesn’t mean the relationship opened for other people to comment on. Then of course there’s just the usual internet hellhole-stuff, people start sending him really inappropriate messages about his body/looks/what they’d want to do to him given the chance that he maybe didn’t expect because he doesn’t believe John when he tells him that’s like notably attractive. I could also imagine for example a moment where someone approaches them when they’re leaving an event or something and Gale is being professional and polite but the other person is really overstaying their welcome/not following social cues but talking to him like a friend would and when John tries to politely lead them onwards the “fan” grabs Gale’s arm or something and it causes a small scene. Gale is stressed in these situations mostly because he fears how they’ll reflect on John’s image if he’s presented as being rude to fans but luckily these are rare occasions.

Despite all of this, they both are happy that the relationship is public, there are more pros than cons for being able to build their future together without having to be each others dirty little secrets (idk why but it came to my mind now that Gale is so the type that since he couldn’t always tell people he had a partner, everyone would either hit on him or try to match him with someone because “how is someone that pretty single?!” and this would annoy the hell out of Bucky despite him being the one with millions of options at any given moment, i like some jealous bucky :D)

Hope this was satisfactory!! Any more ideas to these scenarios? I’m so used to doing just fluff/smut so this was a fun challenge, thank you! <3