#I wanted to experiment with colors and draw snuggles so here you go

[iffoundreturntosea]

January 1, Day 1

1 day 2015

I've stared at that card for the past 7 months wishing the new year would get here already & it finally has. I have kind of a big resolution that will probably take all year but I want to get off all the medications I'm on, get myself healthy & back to living and enjoying life! #wishmeluck #newyears #resolution #goodbye2014 #hello2015 #project365 #day1

I started project 365 because I needed something to keep me going. I was bed ridden at the time due to medication induced vertigo. It was awful and I wanted to die. It lasted months and my doctor was no help. I was hopeless. I starred at this card that a friend of my mom had made her for months just wishing for a change. That change was me.

1 day 2016

Today was a nice chill day! (January's theme is blue!) #shadesofblue #chill #relaxed #january #hello2016 #picoftheday #project365 #day1

By the time I hit the second year I was ready to mix things up and add a theme each month. Each month in 2016 had a different color scheme, starting with blue!

1 day 2017

Happy New Year! 

#newyear #2017 #hello2017 #mayancalendar #january #circleoflife #picoftheday #project365 #day1

1 day 2018

#keyhole #cutout #klaus #dog #pup #bassethound #hound #lazyday #rest #newtheme #differentview #january #picoftheday #project365 #day1

Klaus isn't with us anymore but he was such a good boy!

1 day 2019

I remember last year like it was yesterday...Happy New Year!

This year I’m going to try a new challenge. I’m going to attempt to photograph the National Day calendar for my 5th year of #project365 Should be fun! 

#hello2019 #2019 #timeflies #justme #happynewyear #yearfive #letsdothis #create #challenge #live #experience #share #learn #january #newyearday #nationalday #nationaldaycalendar #picoftheday #project365 #day1 #hereigoagain

I did different monthly themes until 2019 and then I did the National Day Calendar. I was so excited for this year!

1 day 2020

The next year I did a weekly theme to recover from the previous year!

It is Time to start year 6! This Time I’m aiming for a weekly theme! Try to guess 

#glitter #sparkle #pocketwatch #watch #clock #timeywimey #time #year6 #week1 #january #january1 #2020 #picoftheday #project365 #day1 #herewegoagain 

1 day 2021

The 2 years after that were whatever the heck I wanted!

One day I’m not gonna do this anymore but I guess this is not the day! Year 7! No themes! No restrictions! Whatever the hell I want! This is the only picture I took today! Cheers to less stress and more fun! 

#nature #outdoors #bug #insect #grass #pecanshell #morningdew #year7 #herewego #nothemes #lessstressmorefun #whateverthehelliwant #january #january1 #2021 #picoftheday #project365 #day1

1 day 2022

The purrfect way to start the year!

#Leo #kitty #cat #furbaby #snuggles #create #artsy #color #fun #january #january1 #2022 #picoftheday #project365 #day1 #year8

This past year I was ready to try monthly themes again.

1 day 2023

A great start to the new year with an early morning hike with Dad, Dana, sister, fam & friends. Then a delicious meal made by Dana and our little christmas celebration together. Love family time so much!

#grateful #aloha2023 #litebrite #january #january1 #2023 #objectofthemonth #picoftheday #project365 #day1 #startofyear9

I got this mini lite brite as a stocking stuffer from Santa! It is so cute!

1 day 2024

It's a new year and the start of my 10th year doing a picture every day! This year I've partnered with my mom, we'll be drawing themes each day. I will continue photographing while she will be working in her mixed media journal. Today was "stones". Which one speaks to you?

#hello2024 #year10 #dailytheme #stones #color #create #art #january #january1 #2024 #picoftheday #project365 #day1

Alright! That is day one of this year. I officially can't stop now!

[collectingrobins]

"Like a mother"

There’s this bit in Batgirl 25 where Cass makes a video for Barbara and uses that phrase. Kinda breaks my heart. I love their relationship so much.

[messers-moony]

Home | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: Five goes through everything with his best friend, and when they return with the announcement of their marriage his siblings are appalled. 

Request: “I can request a FiveXreader where the reader is loving, sweet and naive, Five's best friend but the reader has no powers (You can invent a way how they became best friends and they are in love with each other, cliché but I love) One day the reader was sitting in front of the Umbrella Academy and saw Five leave in a hurry (The scene that he will travel in time) In this the reader does not abandon Five and decides to travel in time with him, they end up trapped in the apocalylipse, can you make them stay together?  (Like married I don't know) And also the scene where they go back to 2019? Sorry, if this so bored”

Five couldn’t believe his eyes. After a failed mission, he and his siblings decided to sneak out. Klaus had spotted a park on the way home, and that’s where they went. For the first time in years, they felt like kids again. They were all ten years old and had never experienced a playground before. Allison had never laughed as much, and Diego seemed to finally forget his insecurities while swinging from monkey bars. 

Even on occasion, Luther would help Ben cross the monkey bars. Vanya was finally included, and Klaus had never seemed so carefree in his life. But Five had his eyes on someone else. She sat at one of the navy blue tables, quite a ways away from the playground, watching the siblings with a soft smile on her face. A notebook was in front of her while she twirled a pencil in her hand. 

Curiosity killed the cat. Five was too intrigued not to sit with her. So despite this probably being the only time he could experience a playground, he sat in front of her, obscuring her vision from his other six siblings. Her eyes met green ones; they looked evergreen in the dark of the night. His hair almost looked black, but she knew it had to be dark brown. 

“Good evening.” Her voice, it sounded like heaven to him, “Evening.”

It felt awkward, and the silence could’ve been cut with a knife, “My names Y/n.”

“Five.”

“Five? That’s unique.” Y/n complimented, and his cheeks flushed, “Thanks….” 

Her vision went back to the other kids, “You’d think they’ve never seen a playground before.”

“They haven’t.” Five stated, looking at his siblings, “Our father is strict, so we snook out to come here.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as rude-“

“You didn’t.” Five smiled, looking at her e/c eyes. 

Since then, Five would sneak out a lot more. His power was a fantastic tool. When he and his siblings began to sneak out more, Five always invited her. Klaus, Diego, and Vanya seemed taken with her. Y/n was always so kind and sweet. Her laugh radiated, and it made everyone around her smile. It was like she was Aphrodite, and he was Ares. 

After becoming friends with the academy kids, Y/n had a habit of sitting outside the academy. She usually sat on the edge of the sidewalk with her notebook on her lap, pencil in hand. Five couldn’t remember a time when her hand wasn’t covered in graphite or ink from drawing. He adored it, though, because it was so her. It made him stare at his black pens, aimlessly smiling, knowing that she probably had the same color ink on her hand. 

Becoming friends with Five meant knowing his ambition. Five Hargreeves was driven by his goals and wanted to do them regardless of the consequence. So Y/n knew about his dream to time travel despite his father's wishes. On a gloomy day, Y/n sat on the sidewalk. The only thing drawing her from her daydream was the slam of a gate. 

“Five!”

He didn’t turn, “Five!”

Y/n grabbed his arm, “What’re you doing?”

“I’m- I’m going to time travel.” Five stated with that daze in his eyes, “And you need to stay here.”

“No! I’m not letting you go alone!” Y/n exclaimed incredulously, “Y/n, please.” Five pleaded. 

She shook her head, “Absolutely not. Either we go together, or we stay here together.”

“Fine.” Five reluctantly agreed, holding out his hand for her. 

Hesitantly Y/n slid her fingers through his. They were intertwining their hands together. Five was so focused on time-traveling correctly that he didn’t notice the pink flush on his best friend's face. But he did it, once and twice—finally a third time. Smoke clouded the area, and fire could be seen for miles. 

Y/n dropped his hand and covered her mouth. Five circled in his spot in shock. He felt nauseous and queasy. He couldn’t believe that he let this happen. He shouldn’t have pushed himself. They were stuck. Fucking hell, they were stuck, and he couldn’t do anything. Y/n ran back to the academy, and Five followed her. The h/c haired girl stared at what used to be the Umbrella Academy. Now in ruins. Five dropped to his knees, tears collecting in his eyes. 

“It’s- it’s gone….” 

Y/n hugged him tightly, “It’s okay, we’re going to be okay.”

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna be-“ 

Five didn’t get to finish his sentence. He pushed her away and threw up to the side. When he finished, Y/n took her jacket sleeve and wiped it around his mouth—gently combing his hair from his face. Y/n had never seen Five look so drained. Seeing her in front of him, taking care of him made him break. Five broke into sobs holding onto her like a lifeline. Y/n rubbed his back and held him just as tightly. 

“I’m here, Five. I’ll keep you safe.”

Being thirteen in an apocalypse seems like a death sentence, but when you grow up the way Five did, it’s more bearable. The first few months were awful. Searching for shelter, food, clothes. It was downright hell, but they made it through. On cold nights Five would hold her close to his chest, and on hot nights Y/n would always manage to get him cold water. 

Years passed, and their friendship turned into a relationship. They needed each other to survive, and they just needed each other. Five couldn’t be more grateful that she insisted on coming. He couldn’t imagine doing this alone. But now, he had his girlfriend leaning her head on his shoulder while watching the fire. His arm wrapped around her shoulder, leaving occasional kisses on her temple. 

“I couldn’t imagine this world without you.” Five confessed, “I couldn’t imagine my life without you.” Y/n challenged. 

He smirked, “Oh, really?” 

“Don’t let it go to your head, smartass.” Y/n snorted, “Too late, it’s already there, my love.” Five retorted. 

She kissed his cheek, “Love you.”

“Love you too, darling.” 

Five years later. They were twenty-five, and he wanted to make it official. It was a rather cold day wherever they were, and Five was holding her closer than ever. Y/n was shivering on the old mattress they had found. She was constantly snuggling closer to Five’s chest. They laid facing each other, and Y/n’s head was tucked under his chin. Five’s hand ran through her long hair - after being unable to cut it - soothing her nerves. 

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“I want you - Y/n - to marry me.” Five repeated, looking down at her.

Her teeth chattered, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not like there’s anyone else to choose from.”

Y/n glared playfully, and Five chuckled, “Asshole.”

“So, what do you say? Make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

“I say that if my fiancé doesn’t stop being an asshole, then I won't marry him.” Y/n retorted jokingly, “I love you too, pretty girl.” Five replied, smiling softly. 

He kissed her forehead and allowed her to muzzle closer into him. Gently he pulled the two plain rings he found. They were battered, of course, and the gold was dirty, but that didn’t matter. Five slipped the ring on her finger and his. Y/n placed a gentle kiss on his lips that he gladly returned. Sweet, soft, passionate, and full of love. A description of how she was. 

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” Five replied, “Now get some sleep.” 

Y/n was about to fall asleep when she heard Five mutter one last thing, “Y/n Hargreeves.”

29 years. 348 months. 1512 weeks. 10,585 days. Until a woman showed up in their shelter, offering them both a job. Five could remember pushing Y/n behind him defensively. The last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt in any interaction he had. The woman offered them a way home. Five turned to his wife, and she saw it. For the first time in forty-five years, she saw it. Hope. 

Y/n took Five’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. The softest smile crossed his features before agreeing with the woman’s offer where both of them became assassins—partners in crime. Nothing turned Five on more than seeing his wife fend for herself, and god, was she good at it. Y/n was so naive and innocent when she was ten. But now? At the age of fifty-six, she wasn’t that girl anymore. 

But when they reached the age of fifty-eight, Five finally found out the correct equation. They were at their last mission, make sure John F. Kennedy gets shot and everything goes to plan, but Five had different ideas. Taking Vanya’s book from his suitcase, he looked over the equations one last time. They were going back; Five would go home today. 

“Y/n.”

“Yes, love?”

Five sighed, “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“To go home.” 

Y/n’s smile was blissful; Five could’ve fainted on the spot, “Home?! Like- Like-“

“Home.” Five answered to his overjoyed wife. 

Y/n kissed him more passionately than ever. Five could feel her gratefulness in her kiss. His hands placed themselves on her waist, and hers were around his neck. God Five never wanted to forget this feeling. The feeling of his wife in his arms, kissing him as she would never get enough. When they pulled apart, Five opened the portal. Gripping her hand, they jumped through and landed on the leaf-filled ground in the icy rain. 

“Does anyone else see Little Number Five and Little Y/n, or is that just me?“ Klaus asked, not trusting his eyes; maybe it was an illusion from the drugs. 

Five and Y/n stood up. The first thing Y/n noticed was the ring on her finger was too big now. But Five looked down at the suit he had been wearing previously. The blazer now reached his knees instead of his waist, and Y/n’s shirt was hanging off one of her shoulders. Five and Y/n looked at each other. They were thirteen all over again. 

“Shit.” 

He grabbed Y/n’s hand and dragged her into the academy. Y/n had only been in the academy a handful of times before, and she usually was only allowed in Five’s room because she wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. His siblings followed aimlessly and took their spots at the table. 

“What’s the date? The exact date.” Five inquired, grabbing different things around the kitchen. 

“The 24th.”

“Of what?”

“March.”

“Good.”

Y/n took place beside him as Five began making a peanut butter marshmallow sandwich. The same snack he used to love as a kid. Y/n could remember him trying to eat it back at their apartment the commission provided them but complained it was too sweet. It seems that being in his teenage body again made him crave the sweetness of the snack. 

“So, are we gonna talk about just what happened?” Luther questioned, but no one answered, “It’s been 17 years.”

Five scoffed, “It’s been a lot longer than that.”

The same big spatial jumped behind Luther as he began to take marshmallows from the cabinet, “I haven’t missed that.” Luther murmured. 

“Where’d you two go?” Diego asked. 

“The future.” Y/n answered politely, “It’s shit, by the way.” Five added spatial jumping beside her again and gently kissing her cheek. 

The siblings stared in shock at Five’s sudden act of affection; Five could feel their eyes on him, “What?”

“You just kissed her.” Allison stated, “And?”

Allison didn’t say anything, “Is it a crime for me to kiss my wife or something?” Five asked agitatedly. 

“Wife?!”

“Yes, wife.” Five sighed. 

“Called it!” Klaus exclaimed. 

“I should’ve listened to the old man. You know, jumping through space is one thing.” Five began as he looked through the fridge, “Jumping through time is a toss of the dice.” 

He came back with peanut butter in his hand at the front of the table, his wife beside him; he took in the appearance of his siblings, “Nice dress.”

“Oh, well, Danke!” Klaus smiled. 

“Wait, how did you two get back?” Vanya questioned. 

“In the end, I had to project our consciousnesses forward into a suspended quantum state version of ourselves that exists across every possible instance of time.” 

Diego couldn’t wrap his head around it, “That makes no sense.”

Five went to remark, but Y/n cut him off, “It doesn’t have to. All that matters is that we’re back.”

“How long were you two there?” Luther queried, “Forty-Five years. Give or take.”

Everyone looked at the two teens in disbelief, “So what are you saying? That you’re 58?”

“Well, not exactly. Our consciences are 58, but it appears that our bodies are back to 13.” Y/n answered. 

“Wait, how does that even work?”

“It seems that Five might’ve gotten the equations wrong.” Y/n replied, and Five glared at her, “I’m not mad! I’m just happy we’re home. Appearance be damned.”

Five took notice of the newspaper in front of Y/n, “Guess I missed the funeral.”

“How’d you even know about that?” Luther inquired, “What part of the future do you not understand?” Five retorted. 

“Heart failure?” Y/n asked, “Yeah/No.” Luther and Diego contradicted. 

Five clicked his tongue, “Nice to see nothings changed.”

The teenage boy began to walk away, “Uh, that’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Allison questioned.

“What else is there to say? It’s the circle of life.”

Vanya was the first to get up and hug Y/n, “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too, Vanny. Me too.”

[jikyuz]

best teacher ever ✰ c. hyunsuk (m)

✦ pairing: slight dom!hyunsuk x gn!reader ✦ watch out for: making out, praise, innocent!reader ✦ words: 2.1k ✦ a/n: this was actually really fun to write ;-; i hope i did your request justice and that you like it sweetheart !! feedback is always appreciated as always !! ✦ listen to while reading: slow down by chase atlantic

The soft blanket was snug around your figure, almost lulling you into sleep but you fought against it. The night was young, it was right after sunset and the thought of missing out on quality time with Hyunsuk made you frown.

The date had been set, activities planned and schedules almost cleared. Of course he had practice during the day but he had promised to be right over when he was done. It was always a mystery as to when exactly they got done but it averaged a bit after sunset so you sat staring between the show on the TV and the door, hoping just looking at it will manifest your boyfriend.

Obviously, it didn’t, but when you got a text from Hyunsuk saying he was on his way to your place and to get the movies ready, you sprung up from the couch, throwing the blanket behind you and grabbing the remote and going into Netflix. Recently you had gone through the movies and picked out a few for the date night, putting them on a watch later list. Pulling that up, you wrapped yourself in the blanket once more.

As you scrolled through the list, reading descriptions and mentally debating with yourself over which one you wanted to watch first, you heard footsteps approach your door along with the jingle of a key in the lock.

It was less than a second before you saw the familiar mess of dark hair, his padded jacket nearly making him disappear but you noticed the tint of red on the tip of Hyunsuk’s nose as he took off his shoes and the jacket, revealing another jacket underneath. While he removed that one, you stood up, making your way over to him and slipping yourself into his arms wordlessly.

Although his skin was chilly to the touch, his chest was warm so you buried your face into the fabric of his shirt, smiling when you felt his hands rest on your back. His fingers rubbed your muscles and you signed in satisfaction, enjoying the jolt of electricity that passed through your limbs.

“I missed you, baby.” Hyunsuk’s voice was quiet and if you weren’t right there you were sure you wouldn’t hear it.

“I missed you more, Hyunsuk.” Pulling away just enough to see his face, you giggled at the way the tip of his nose was bright red as well as the tips of his ears. Leaning forward, you kissed his nose, muttering a soft, “cute” as you did it.

Instead of saying anything, Hyunsuk’s hands pressed on your back, guiding you towards him until you felt your hips bump into his. You gasped, your arms wrapping around his neck while you smiled at your boyfriend. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, his nose rubbing against yours before he leaned in, closing the small gap between your mouths.

At first the kiss was languid and soft, just the press of lips together until Hyunsuk tilted his head even more. The feeling of his lips parting slightly and his tongue swiping across your bottom lip had you pulling away, a surprised noise falling from you as you stared at Hyunsuk wide eyed.

Just the thought of him wanting to take the kiss further had your body heating up. Of course you wanted the same thing, you wanted to open your mouth and take another step in your relationship but there was one problem, you had little to no experience with making out with someone. The furthest you had gone was accidentally brushing your tongue with your ex while you were kissing but nothing else came of it, you had stopped immediately and nearly ran back home.

Hyunsuk didn’t hide the mix of confusion and disappointment on his face. He would never force you into something you didn’t want to do but he had hoped soon he would be able to take your skinship to another level.

“Uh, let’s start the first movie, I already picked it out.” You turned away from your boyfriend, mentally cursing yourself for pulling away when in reality you wanted the exact same thing as Hyunsuk.

“Of course.” Hyunsuk let go of your hand when you tried to guide him to the couch and you were about to start apologizing but you watched as he dug into the pocket of his jacket. The smile from before appeared again as he pulled out a few bags of candy along with some microwave popcorn.

“I brought snacks! I figured we could have some now and later make the popcorn.” His familiar cheery tone was back and you hoped he wasn’t still thinking about the awkward moment just seconds before. If he was there was no indication of it, his smile making your heart speed up just a bit.

Nodding, you fell back onto the couch, arms open and waiting for your boyfriend to join you. “Sounds good, now come here I need my cuddle buddy.”

As Hyunsuk set the food on the coffee table, he feigned hurt, one hand on his chest while the other was placed delicately on his hip. He raised his eyebrows, fighting the laugh that bubbled up. “Is that all I am to you? Someone to cuddle?”

Although he said that, he still sat next to you, opening his arms and awaiting for you to crawl into them and make yourself comfortable. Cuddling with Hyunsuk was your favorite pastime not only because he was really warm but also because of the small kisses he would plant on your head as you laid there.

“Nah you’re good at other stuff too,” you started, settling yourself in Hyunsuk’s arms. He moved to lay down on the couch, your ear pressed against his chest and you felt satisfied hearing the way his heartbeat sped up as you snuggled into him. “But your cuddles are the best.”

Silence fell over you as you pressed play on the remote, the movie starting with a black screen before opening to a million colors. You picked an animated movie for the first one, wanting to ease Hyunsuk into the scarier ones that were for later in the night.

It was only halfway through the movie when you felt it. One of your hands was resting on Hyunsuk’s chest, your fingertip softly drawing circles on his skin. One of his hands was stroking your back, right along your spine which caused a road of goosebumps to appear on your arm.

Although it was supposed to be an innocent gesture you felt your body heat up, a small fire ignited in your stomach when you looked up at Hyunsuk and saw the way his hair was slightly messy, eyes focused on the movie while his mouth hung open slightly. You were brought back to earlier in the night, the way his soft lips glided over yours. The searing desire to take it further not enough to interfere with your fear of not being good.

“Everything okay, baby?” You were snapped out of your thoughts when Hyunsuk turned his head to look at you, eyebrows raised in worry. “You spaced out there for a second.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just…” You trailed off, thinking of ways to tell Hyunsuk you wanted to make out without actually saying it. As you paused, Hyunsuk started to sit up, moving your legs so they were over his lap. His arm was still around your back while the other rested on your knee, encouraging you to keep going.

Instead of going on, you decided to swallow your fears. Quickly you moved one of your knees over so you were straddling Hyunsuk’s lap, your legs on either side of his. The way his mouth fell open made you smile, loving how you could tell how much you affected him. It was never a secret, but it made you feel better that you didn’t have to guess what he was feeling.

You leaned forward, pressing your mouth to Hyunsuk’s and nearly smirking at the gasp that fell from his lips. You kissed him once, pulling away to leave just an inch between you before going back in for another. It was quick and soft, nothing like what he had done earlier but you had no idea where to start.

“Baby,” Hyunsuk’s hands were on your waist, his feather light touch just enough to let you know they were there. “Is this because of earlier? We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, I got carried away, I’m sorry.” As he started talking you shook your head, not wanting him to apologize for your own fear.

“No, I want to… make out with you but,” You trailed off, looking anywhere but Hyunsuk’s face. The thought of making a complete fool of yourself flew through your head but if you were going to advance your relationship with Hyunsuk, you had to tell him eventually so you took a deep breath, your hands resting on his chest. “I just have no experience with making out with someone and I’m scared I won’t be good at it.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Hyunsuk smile, his thumbs rubbing small circles in your skin of your hips as he leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “You’re so cute, baby.”

One of his hands moved to your chin, moving your head so you would look at him. Although he was smiling, his eyes were serious and held a hint of something darker, something that made the fire in your stomach to get bigger.

“It’s okay that you don’t have any experience, I’ll teach you then.” Your boyfriend shrugged, his smile turning more into a smirk. “I’m just glad you pulled away earlier for that reason and not because you didn’t want to kiss me.” He laughed lightly before he leaned closer to you.

“Do you want to learn now, baby?” His tone was encouraging, the hint of desire in his voice and you felt your legs almost turn to jelly with the way he was looking at you. When you nodded your head, Hyunsuk shook his, his thumb stroking your jawline. “I need you to tell me, baby.”

“I want you to teach me. Please kiss me, Hyunsuk.” You jutted your bottom lip out, scooting closer to him and gasping when you felt his thighs under you flex.

That was enough for Hyunsuk to give in, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your lips just as before. There was no sense of urgency, just the sweet feeling of his mouth against yours. As he pulled away, he left only a small space between you. “Just follow my lead, baby. I’ll guide you.”

Nodding, you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hair on the back of his head. Leaning in once again, Hyunsuk tilted his head and you followed, enjoying the way your mouths slotted together much better like that. It was like two puzzle pieces finding each other. That kiss was more passionate, Hyunsuk’s hands on your hips grounding you and making you feel like every nerve was alight.

This time when you felt his tongue swipe your bottom lip, you opened your mouth, inviting him in. An involuntary soft moan fell from your lips as your own tongue met with his. Warmth spread through you and you were sure the temperature in the room had rose as well. Hyunsuk left no area of your mouth undiscovered, the way his tongue tickled the top of your mouth making you shiver in his grasp.

Your fingers began tugging lightly at Hyunsuk’s hair, enjoying the low groans that fell from his lips when you parted for just a few seconds before diving back in. If this is what it felt like, you were upset at not reaching out earlier, loving the way Hyunsuk made you feel and the way he guided you into a whole new step in your relationship.

It seemed like a few seconds when you pulled away for good yet the movie in the background had the credits rolling. Your face heated up as you realized just how long you had been making out yet also feeling a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Wow,” Hyunsuk’s hair was disheveled from your hands, his lips slightly puffy and you were sure you probably looked similar. His face flushed as he smiled at you. “Are you sure you’re not experienced? You did so well, baby.”

You hit his chest lightly, chuckling as you leaned in to press another kiss to his lips. Instead of answering him you shrugged, your breath coming out in small bursts as you tried to tame the fire that was rising in your stomach. Surely you couldn’t get that worked up from just making out with someone but that was the power that Hyunsuk held over you.

“I guess I just have a good teacher.”

[harryhandstan]

prompt: harry wakes up early on starbucks cup release days and surprises you by buying all the ones he thinks you’ll like. he’s usually able to escape the paps but this time they catch him and he ends up having to explain it in his next interview and gets all shy and can’t stop blushing.

a/n: hello all!! first I want to apologize for my 4 month long writing absence. life just has not been kind to me lately and unfortunately zapped a lot of my creativity energy, but I’m happy to have something done now! hopefully I can continue and keep a more consistent schedule for the remainder of this year!

immense thank you’s are owed to my kind friends @tobesolonely and @meetmymouth for the encouragement to find my creative spark for writing again and for being amazing betas! and to @taintedwonder for the lovely idea! @theharriediaries​ was so sweet to beta for me as well!!

word count: 2.1k

writing tag | masterlist | tiktok inspo 

Harry was usually smarter than this. He had a schedule, a plan, a way to get in and out pretty quickly without being seen. 

But today, he’d lingered too long at the mugs, curious if you’d want one of those as well. Your go-to was iced coffee, even year round in the winter you would prefer something cold over anything warm. He was thinking though, of the nights you were stressed and wanted a cup of soothing tea before bed, or those slower mornings where you don’t have to rush and a mug of coffee fits nicely in your hand while he admires you from across the kitchen table.

By the time he’s decided that yes, you do need this mug with the pastel rainbow print to add to your collection, along with a few of the other cups he thinks you’ll adore and a fresh bag of your favorite flavor of coffee, there’s already a small crowd of people forming in the lobby of the coffee shop and he hopes that he can get through them without being recognized as usual; prays that it’s only the regulars filing in for an early morning fix of caffeine before they rush off to start their day.

The barista thankfully is quick, skillfully giving him his total before rushing off to make the drinks he ordered for the two of you as well. He sees the way her eyes keep darting to him though, knows after years of experience that she knows who he is and is trying to work up the courage to say something to him or ask for a photo. He almost considers offering, she’s been so nice not to draw any attention to him, maybe something discreet could be pulled off. 

In the end he chooses not to, not wanting to assume that’s why she keeps looking over at him. It could be that he still has the hood of his sweatshirt tucked over his beanie or the fact that he’s now walking out of the shop with a small handful of the brown shopping bags with the familiar green logo imprinted on the front.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he makes it back to his car without anyone stopping him. He’s so distracted by securing the bags in the backseat he fails to hear the small clicks of the camera not too far away.

There’s a small comfort in the quietness of your shared apartment when he returns. While he loves coming home to the sound of you dancing around the kitchen making breakfast, his favorite is getting to wake you up himself. There’s a sweet softness in the way the side of your face rests against your pillow, mouth parted slightly and a gentle snore vibrating through your chest. It never fails to make him smile. He cherished the way you inhale faintly, stretching your limbs before blinking a few times, adjusting to the new day you’re waking up to. If he was there, already awake, your eyes always found him before anything else.

This morning is no different, except for the confusion on your face when you find him sitting on the edge of the bed instead of snuggled next to you. 

“You’re up to something, I can tell.”  You’re propped up enough now to accept the coffee he’s holding out for you. You take a few small sips, sighing and letting your head fall back against the headboard as you savor the taste.

“M’that easy to read, huh?” He chuckles, his hand on your thigh now, warming your skin even through the blanket, “Well..would you like your surprise here or will you be joining me in the kitchen while I make you breakfast?”

“Oh I get a surprise and breakfast today? What’s the occasion? Little early for my birthday, H.” 

“Don’t need an occasion to spoil my girl, do I?”

“I guess not.” 

You shrug, trying not to let the guilt bubble up enough to where it flashes across your face. One of his loudest love languages had always been gift giving, a quality about him you thought was wonderful, but still had a hard time accepting. You had to be careful about mentioning things you may want around Harry, he would use any excuse to treat you.

He’s rambling off his reasoning already as he leads you into the kitchen and settles you in one of the tall chairs next to the counter. He always ends his explanation with “I know you told me not to, but…” followed up by what you’re sure to him sounds like a very logical justification for why you need/deserve whatever he was gifting you. There’s nothing out of the ordinary of your regular kitchen set up this morning though, so you do what you normally do when he announces a surprise for you; let him take the lead, not wanting to take away from his excitement. 

“So..surprise or breakfast first?” He stands on the other side of the counter now, his hoodie and beanie discarded, wearing a t-shirt you were sure you bought for yourself but he seems to have laid claim to.

“Breakfast, please. If you don’t mind.” 

“‘Course not. Any requests, baby?”

Your heart flutters for a moment, just as it does each time he uses that particular term of affection for you. He’s already opened the refrigerator, scanning over options for what he could make for the two of you. You recover long enough to tell him no, that whatever he wants to make would be fine, sitting back and enjoying the view as he cracks a few eggs into a bowl.

You don’t even notice that you’re staring until he turns and catches your eye, “What? Did I get a shell in the eggs or something?”

You giggle as he even picks up the clear bowl of eggs that he’s already scrambled and seasoned, even going so far as to swirl his finger through the liquid to double check before you can stop him.

“No, it’s just..I can’t get over the fact that you’re making breakfast for me while wearing my t-shirt.”

“S’it yours?” He glances down at it, “Thought it was mine, sorry..”

There’s a smirk on his face as he turns back to the stove, and you know just by seeing that he knows you don’t mind; you love seeing him in your clothes as much as he adores seeing you in his.  

It’s not long before he’s presenting you with a plate, sitting next to you with his own plate in front of him. When you don’t immediately dig in, he leans over to inspect the food, worried that maybe he’d overdone the eggs or your toast was slightly more brown than you liked. 

So when you say, “You’ve forgotten something very important, haven’t you?” he panics, thinking maybe he should’ve taken the time to include fruit to balance the meal. You take pity on him, not making him wait too long before you lean in and he instantly softens, realizing what you’re asking for. 

He meets you the rest of the way, lips soft against yours, the taste of the coffee you’ve both had lingering for a moment before he pulls away, “Very important. How could I ever have forgotten?”

When you’ve both finished eating, he downs the last of his coffee and stacks your now empty plates to take to the sink, pecking your forehead with another quick kiss, “Alright, close your eyes. Count to 20.”

You begin to count off in your head, and you hear his voice, a bit further away, “Out loud, angel.”

There’s a rustling of bags getting closer as you count, and you can even hear a few clinks as they come closer. You can feel him moving around you, positioning things perfectly for when you open your eyes. 

He’s still behind you when you finish counting, hands squeezing your shoulders to urge you to open your eyes. When you do, you immediately recognize the bags and know exactly what he’s done.

“Oh no. Absolutely not. This is too much, Harry. I let you spoil me with little things here and there, but I cannot accept this.”

Sitting in front of you are..you stop to count them now; 1, 2, 3, 4..6 bags from Starbucks. You know from experience that each one of them contains 2 cups or mugs. You’re sure at least one of them also includes your favorite roast of coffee. He had done this before around Christmas time, when you’d mentioned how adorable a few of the ones from the holiday collection had been, not thinking that he would go back later without you and buy all the ones you’d touched or admired.  

He ignores your refusal, “You can take back any you don’t like. Go on,” He peeks inside one of the bags closest to him and then pushes it closer to you, “Start with this one.”

“Harry, really..”

“Don’t think, just open. If you really won’t accept any of them then I’ll take ‘em back and buy you something from somewhere else.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You try your best to look serious, but you can’t stop the smile from spreading across your face, “Thank you, H.”

You finally go through most of the bags, offering oohs and ahhs and even a few squeals of joy at certain ones. 

“I think I got all the ones you’d pick for yourself. Saw you eyeing one or two the other day and the others I just guessed.”

He had done very well in choosing for you, even going so far as to get the two of you a matching pair of the kind that changed colors with the temperature. 

“For our smoothies.” He explains when you give him a particularly soft look at the idea of matching with him. 

“Also got us a matching set of these,” He skips to the last bag, too eager to wait for you to open it yourself, revealing the mug he’d taken the extra time to select, “For our Sunday morning tea. Or if you change your mind and ever want a hot coffee.”

All you can do is repeat the same expression of gratitude as before you had opened them, “Thank you again, H. I love them all, really. No more though, alright? We’re running out of cabinet space. Did you go to our regular spot or a different one so you wouldn’t be recognized?” 

“Different one. Can’t believe I wasn’t spotted though. Must’ve been too early for the paps to be out and about.”

“Or maybe you aren’t as interesting as you think you are, babe. Harry Styles coming out of a Starbucks is old news now.” 

His eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise, “Oh is it now?”

“Mhmm. You’re just plain boring now, H.” You shrug, peeling at the price tag on the bottom of one of the cups, avoiding his gaze; knowing if you look at him you’ll break into a fit of laughter. 

He’s impossibly calm, just like he is before any interview he does. 

You sit across the room from where he’s currently getting his hair done. The stylist was nervous, understandably so, her hands unsure at first. It only takes a few moments of being near Harry; working his quiet, delicate magic of putting anyone he’s near at ease. By the time his hair is finished he’s pulled a few laughs from her and she leaves the room with a big beaming smile and a wave to the both of you.

Now that you’re alone again, he beckons you closer and tugs you down to sit in his lap, despite your protests of the possibility of wrinkling his incredibly expensive suit. 

“Don’t care,” He leans up to press a kiss to your neck, keeping his face tucked there in your warmth, “Just want you close for a moment.”

Normally you would run your fingers through his hair, but you don’t dare do that now, hand drifting to the side of his face instead, “Not nervous are you, H?”

He lets you gently push him back enough to see his face again, “Never. Just happy to have you here with me, that’s all.”   

It’s not until he’s in front of the audience, presented with the evidence of just a few days before, displayed on a screen for all to see. He had been caught, despite his confidence of getting away. He falters for only a beat, head down in hopes to hide the blush spreading high along his cheeks. He finds you in the crowd, sending a bright smile your way before he shrugs, turning his attention back to the host.

“What can I say? My sunshine likes her coffee.” 

//

tag list: @harrysblackcoat​, @summertime-pills​ 

thank you for reading!! as always likes, rbs, and feedback is welcome and appreciated!!

[lvnatiq]

Random Relationship Headcanons | Felix Escellun x gn!reader

a/n: Hey ! On todays menu I am serving you modern au relationship headcanons. I know for a fact that I can’t write headcanons AT ALL yet here we are, out of spite I will keep trying until I can manage to write good shit. I’m going through a chaotic time in my life so please be patient with me 😭

I’m currently working on tattoo artist! reader x Felix headcanons and college!enemies to lovers one-shot. Knowing that Felix’s fav trope is enemies to lovers, I will post it hopefully before his new chapter drops. I used most of the hcs that were sent to me but if you couldn’t see yours, then it will probably be used on the other works.

No beta we die like men.

warnings: curse words, nsfw under the cut, random sage moments, felix being a ‘the neighborhood’ song basically.

You persuade him to start an Instagram account, and because of his family's popularity, he quickly gains followers. His account is practically empty because he would rather spend his time stalking your account on Instagram. You noticed the emptiness and wanted to take him out and take some photos for his account, which turned out amazingly. He is a little camera shy, so be patient with him.

You like to watch him apply his eyeliner but he finds it so stressing to do under your gaze.  He used to be able to do it easily, but it has now become one of his most difficult tasks. You wanted to ask for his assistance in applying eyeliner to you in the hopes of making it simpler for him; he agreed but quickly regretted it when he realized how near your faces would be. You with your eyes closed, waiting for him to drag the line as he was only thinking about how bad he wanted to kiss you. 

Felix has a Polaroid of you and stella in his wallet I said what I said.

When it comes to himself, he can be a pessimist, but when it comes to you, he is the most loving and positive boyfriend you could ever ask for. You have a dream ? He is ready to help you achieve it. Do you want to change in your life ? Go for it, He’s more excited than you are.

He can be quite insecure at times when it comes to your relationship because he feels like you deserve the world but the world is too big for his tiny hands. Will his cuddles be enough ? God he hopes so.

He almost cried when you told him you loved him for the first time. He's also baffled as to how you might feel the same way about him.

Drunk Felix is really clingy and honest. Whatever he can’t say sober drunk felix can and definitely will.

“May the stars let my death be between your glorious thighs amen-“ “Felix-”

Felix is weird but it add to his charm. It’s not unusual for you to wake up in the middle of the night and find the pillow besides yours empty. In the dead of night, you will find Felix munching on some weird ass food combinations.

He also has a habit of doing things that are extremely adorable without even noticing it. Like walking around the house in his oversized shirts, his hand clutching at the cuffs whilst the other one sheepishly rubs his eye.

“Can I lay on your lap ? I promise I won’t fall asleep. I just need to rest for a little.” His voice is so soft and hushed. “Of course, come here.” He throws himself onto you as he comes hopping on his tip toes.

He falls asleep on his desk too often, so you have to carry him back to his room, where he snuggles against you while you lead him there. Once he's in his room, he insists that you stay with him, so you wait until he falls asleep as you play with his hair, and he wakes up thinking it was all a dream.

I firmly believe that Felix’s love language is acts of service. Like making you coffee and bringing you random snacks as you work or wrapping you up in fluffy blankets whenever he catches you slacking on the couch.

He's been romanticizing anything and everything since he met you. When he sees beautiful flowers, he wants to bring them to you, but he also believes that their beauty stems from the fact that they are alive, so he argues and stresses a lot when deciding what to do in simple situations like these.

His edginess belongs to his impulsiveness and his style only at any other situation he's a complete softboy.

And I'm certain he knows a variety of card tricks. He enjoys showing off, and he enjoys it even more when you become fascinated and beg him to share the trick.

If you're a morning person, you'll probably spend your mornings alone in solitude, finishing work before the day begins, but if you're a night owl, you and Felix will go out for night walks and Felix would go out for night walks, sharing headphones to play some music, enjoy each others presence and develop a habit of watching the sunrise together.

Felix makes you playlists at the most random times and with the most random names. Until one day he sent you a playlist at around 4 a.m called “you”, filled with his favorite music. He usually sees music as a safe space for himself and now that you are his safe place too it’s only appropriate for him to do so. This only further proves how he spends his time thinking about you.

I feel like Felix would have what most would call "attachment issues" but it’s mainly because of his protective tendencies. This is not to say that he’s this "overly jealous toxic" character; rather, he has never had anyone to truly call his own in his entire life so he would do anything to protect it.

Felix is also big on astrology, so if you want the perfect birth chart, he'll give it to you. Also he owns a lovely deck of tarot cards, and if you ask him for a love reading, he can't manage to keep his words and feelings to himself so he modifies your reading according to him and his desires. Let the boy abuse his powers for the sake of love.

His style could be described as dark academia, his wardrobe mainly consists of dark colors, lots and lots of blazers and a lot of oversized shirts. He also loves jewelry so he owns a lot of rings and chains. Just so you know, if you're wearing any of his rings, his heart is doing cartwheels.

Is it obvious that he loves it when you place your hand in his and play with his rings with your fingertips.

Spoil him. Buy him that baby blue hoodie with cat ears.

“Ah, you look adorable.” “Isn’t it a bit too b-big ?” “You could say that. Do you mind ?” “No, I like it that way.” “I would know.” You smirk followed by felix’s gasp. “If you so desperately wanted a cat boy you know you have me right ?” Nudging your shoulder, Sage leapt into the conversation. “What is he talking about ?”  Felix grumbled, only to notice two fuzzy triangular fabrics on top of his head as he brushed his fingertips over it.

He’s obsessed with your hands, kissing your knuckles, drawing circles in your palm. At a certain point it became an involuntary gesture he does it quite often without realizing.

He’s also canonically extremely blushy but he would never admit it. You’re convinced he uses some sort of make up because it is not possible for the pink dusting his cheeks to look this good.

He insists that you’re cold even in the warmest weathers because he wants to see you in his coat.

Sage forces Felix to take his thirst trap Tiktoks.

He really appreciates it when you add to his herbal tea collection without him noticing and he considers it a sign of affection because he takes his tea very seriously.

He loses it when you call him baby he gets flustered and frustrated but it’s all because it rolls off of your tongue so nicely that he can’t get enough of it.

Felix owns a broad collection of scented lip balms some of them are tinted. You didn’t hear this from me.

He never once took anything the Sage says seriously until he saw how well you two got along. He never thought that he would be standing there taking relationship and flirting advice from the frat boy.

Felix is a complete asshole when he wants to. He’s very verbal about it too. Consistent sarcastic remarks and eye rolls. I mean it runs in his blood, look at Escell.

You love it when he suddenly whips out the confident Felix, it’s not a daily occurrence you know.

When Felix is concentrated, he’s lost and there’s almost no way you or anything else can distract him. So it’s time to grab some colorful hair clips and ties to fuck around with his hair.

Felix is not the best at verbally expressing his gratitude towards you. He doesn’t know what he would do if you weren’t there for him at the lowest points of his life where normally he would close himself and bare the weight of his family problems and personal life issues that he can’t seem to get out of. Now he has you, someone who’s willing to listen to him and offer him a warm embrace when he needs the most. 

While you to play games together, when he wins he wears that iconic shit eating grin of his with pride looking at you through the corner of his eye. “Shit, what do you want me to say to that felix ? Perhaps I should call you master now that you won ‘one’ fucking round.” He is praying that the screen light is covering the fact that he is a blushy mess after hearing you say that.

NSFW

I cannot stress this enough but he is extremely vocal in bed. Whining, trying to restrict himself from making too much noise but failing miserably.

Muffled pants, choked sobs and lots of pleasure infused tears.

He loves getting praised during sex but what he loves more is to get praised after it’s all over. Like you telling him how great he was, how well he behaved, how good he made you feel. He experiences sub drops a lot so please assure him that he did well :(

He’s into power-play but not in a submissive or dominant kind of relationship, it’s more of a psychological thing where the fact that he can see how good he makes you feel gives him a rush of confidence and adrenaline.

I believe that this motherfucker is a masochist, pain makes him more excited than getting an update on his favorite author who went on a year long hiatus and that is saying a lot.

Bite him. Scratch him. It is so stimulating for him he can reach his high just from those actions.

Fuck do anything to his ears bite, lick, pull, blow on it. He is extremely sensitive so anything you do will basically drive him out of his mind. It will most definitely lead to him trembling beneath your fingertips.

You must think that you are the only one who is such a tease but you’re wrong. Felix teases you quite often mostly to direct your attention towards him or to keep your attention on him. He’s quite greedy when it comes to you and your hands on his body. Unbuttoning unnecessary amount of buttons on his shirt to show a little skin that he knows you’ll notice. Playing with his necklace placing the chain between his lips dragging it towards the inside of his bottom lip teasing the metallic charm with the tip of his tongue. He definitely ain’t oblivious he knows exactly what he’s doing and he makes sure that you know exactly what he’s doing.

When he’s in the mood he will tug the hem of your top meanwhile his eyes are glued to the floor or graze the temples of his glasses between his lips, his teeth lightly nibbling the pointy edge. He loves to play dumb too. When you question him, he acts like he doesn’t intend anything and that you need to get your head out of the gutter.

At the end of the session Felix looks divine. Drool leaking down from his bottom lip to his jaw line towards his neck, his bangs sticking on his sweat coated forehead, his chest rising up and down quickly. His eyes rolled at the back of his head, his hands still clutching tightly to the sheets. Faint whimpers and deep breaths filling the air.

Leading up to the after care, his shy self returns. He buries his face to your chest hiding his blushy cheeks beneath the palms of his hands.

He likes to experiment a lot and you are his favorite subject.

It shouldn’t be surprising to find random kink definitions or role-play ideas on the search history of your laptop. After all Felix just asked for it to write an email, that’s all there is to it. That’s until you offer to try them out.

He doesn’t act upon his jealousy, what he does instead is that leaving marks on you especially around your neck and your chest where he knows it will show. Don’t cover them up if you don’t wanna deal with him.

“People just don’t appreciate art anymore.” “Felix these are, hickeys.” “Oh so now you are judging my art medium ?” “Since when proving Sage that I got railed by you is a form of art ?”

I didn’t see anyone point this out but whenever he is in the sub space he tends to be more on the bratty side. He starts of shy but his confidence builds up as the tension rises. Meaning that you should be ready to get your patience tested.

When you two are in separate places your suggestive words and tone leads up to phone sex, which Felix secretly fantasized about a lot. What made everything even more dirty was the fact that you didn’t know that he was laying on your bed surrounded by your scent and humping your pillow. Once you come back home you are greeted with a fresh pair of sheets on your bed. Apparently Felix decided to do you a favor and clean your room as well as the the whole house. He’s crossing fingers that you don’t notice because he knows that he’ll never hear the end of it.

Felix knows a lot about sex but his knowledge is based upon fiction rather than experience. So, naturally, he is more interested about learning specifically how your body responds to certain actions, what you enjoy and what you’re interested in so teach him. He’s a good student and oh well he’s a quick learner.

Pull his hair pull his hair put his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair.

When he settles between your legs as he ties his hair, he places the hairband between his lips and looks up at you with half lidded eyes. It’s his definition of torture.

Even though he doesn’t give off that vibe, he is very freaky if you would’ve known what his AO3 tags consisted of you would agree.

Tag list is open

[insomniamamma]

Safe: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee

A/n: What can I say? I'm hormonal and all my shit hurts and if I cannot get snuggles IRL then I will write something super soft and self-indulgent to make myself feel better. Part of the Prickle AU. Set sometime after Sacellum.

Warnings: Oh no! There's only one bed. Soft!Ezra. Language. Cee's best friend on The Pug is non-binary and also named after my little boy's favorite stuffy. Maybe the slightest bit of angst. But mostly super soft.

         "You did this on purpose."         "Right hand to Kevva, I did not. I asked for double occupancy and they must have misunderstood and--"         "You don't have a right hand,"         "Let's go back to the reception desk," says Ezra, "We may be able to negotiate more appropriate accommodations."         "Errgh," you groan. Reception had been a nightmare, three freighters worth of traffic trying to secure berths all at once. It was a lot of people. Too many for your liking. Cee was staying with Kit and their family. Kit and Cee had practically tackled each other right there on the dock, everyone else forgotten, walked away arm in arm.         "We shove off in three cycles," Ezra hollered at her retreating back, and she flapped a dismissive hand at him. You had to smile. For three cycles Cee gets to be a normal teenager hanging out with her best friend without worrying about points and pulls and overhead costs and fuel margins.         "I don't wanna go back down there," you say, "Too many people. I think twice the population of Falnost was waiting in that fucking line." You brush past him and into the suite. The ceilings are low and slightly curved and it feels strange to be under this much grav. The outer rings of Puggart Bench have something close to terra-normal gravity, but after so much time spent on little moons and worldlets, this much G feels weird and you have no desire to trudge back down to reception.         "You sure?" Asks Ezra.         "Yeah," you drop your day bag and press a hand to the mattress. "Look at the size of this thing. It's, like, five crash-couches wide. This seems above our pay grade."         "They're overbooked," says Ezra, "We're paying the same points for the berth we should have gotten. I made sure of it. I can sleep in that recliner if--"         "No."         "No?"         "Kevva, Ez, we're both adults," you say, "I think we can share a bed for a night without exploding."

        Your suite has a real, honest-to-Goddess shower with a generous 15 minute timer. You scrub as fast as you can and then just let the water hit you, let the pressure pound on your tense back muscles until the chime sounds and the water cuts off. You towel off and dress, soft clothes you sleep in, and pad out into the main room. Ezra is reading, face far off and serious, and you just look at him for a minute, illuminated in the warm lamp-light, absorbed in his book, little furrow between his brows and then he looks up, all knowing smirk and dancing eyes, he's caught you staring.         "Your turn, Ez," You say and turn your face away. Kevva. This man. You've been trying to keep things professional, but it's a losing battle. His flirtations make you flush, but he's never tried to push you, never tried to leverage the fact that it's his name on the ship's title, that you signed a contract, that you are junior-most crew. You feel safe with him. And, from your limited experience in the fringe, that is a miracle in itself.

        Ezra sets his book aside and heads for the bathroom. You peel the sheets from the other side of the bed and settle in. There's a media player bolted to the wall, but you just want quiet. You switch off the lamp on your nightstand (we both have lamps, we both have a nightstand, how weird is that?) The sheets feel deliciously cool against your skin. To be clean and sleeping in clean sheets...if Heaven isn't like this Kevva's got some answering to do.         Ezra sings in the shower. You're barely awake and you smile. Ezra can't carry a tune in a bucket, singing fringeling songs and reels, stories of mercs and pirates and ghosts and you drift off to the sound of him, the sound of the water running.

        He sees you soft and loose and asleep. No rail-gun, no body armor, no thrower under your pillow. Your face slack, snoring slightly. You've kicked out of the blankets and lay curled as if chilled.         "Hey Artichoke," he murmurs, pulls the blankets up and tucks them around you, "Let's get you warm, yeah?"

        Ezra wakes. Bleared red numbers of the clock saying that this is still the deepest ditch of local night. Ezra is warm and confused. He feels you pressed against him, your chest to his back, an arm hooked around his middle, your legs entwined with his. You've sought him out in your sleep and folded yourself around him, your breath slow and steady against his nape. Ezra's eyes prick with tears. He can't remember the last time he's been held like this. He's had lovers. He has payed for sex on the less reputable Benches of the Great Arm, but for someone to hold him? For someone to touch him without payment, without trying to press some advantage, gain some kind of leverage, without priming him for the inevitable backstab?  He is overwhelmed. He tries to wriggle away from you, but your arm just tightens around him.         "...fixed the transponder," you mutter against his neck, "told you we didn't need...told you..." He pats your arm and relaxes against you.         "Okay, Artichoke, okay, sweetheart. Go back to sleep."

        You wake enfolded, Ezra's good arm wrapped around you. You feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, the slow sussurration of his breath, the snores that catch in his throat and turn to murmurs, the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. You've tucked yourself against him in your sleep. Your hand rests on his sternum. Oh Kevva. What are you doing? You go rigid.         Your first impulse is to wrestle out of his hold, take one of the blankets and install yourself in the recliner that you wouldn't let Ezra take, but part of you wants to stay right here in the combined warmth of your bodies, feeling his breath, his heart, his calloused palm spread against your shoulder. You shift, making the smallest effort to pull yourself away and his arm tightens further, a low, sleepy chuckle reverberates through his chest.         "Hi Ez,"         "Hi." He strokes the pad of his thumb along the exposed curve of your shoulder.         "I'll get up," you say, even as he shifts and cups the back of your head in his palm, tucking you closer.         "You don't have to," he says, voice rough with sleep. This gesture pricks at your heart. Coming up on Falnost has made you hard, guarded, there has been precious little gentleness in your life, pulling rocks out of the parched ground since you were big enough to lift a shovel. Learned to fight and shoot to chase water-thieves from the homestead. He strokes the back of your head like one might pet a skittish cat and your heart squeezes.         "Ezra?" You hate how small your voice sounds, you hate the uncertainty you hear there, "Are we okay?"         "Of course we are," he says, "Why wouldn't we be?"         "I wrapped around you like a Bueller's world python and I did it in my sleep-"        ��"The wrapping was mutual-"         "You're not mad or uncomfortable or anything?" He laughs again, gentle huff of breath against the crown of your head.         "Mad about waking with you in my arms? The day I'm mad about that you can just shoot me in the head and send me to Kevva because I will surely have lost my ever-loving mind." You smile against his skin and relax some, your hand unfists and you curl your arm around his soft belly, feel his breath hitch.         "Tickles."         "Sorry." You feel yourself drift, skirting the edge of sleep. He is warm and solid and you let yourself relax against him.         “This feels...safe..." you say, so close to sleep that you're not sure if you've said it aloud or if you've just thought it. And you're not sure if you hear his response or dream it, one word. Always.

        "She's late," says Ezra.         "We still got a sixteenth to button up and board,"         "Still," says Ezra, "Yon freighter will leave with our pod wether we're strapped in it or not." You see Cee and Kit, trailed by Kit's parents, weaving through the crowd. Cee is beaming, her blonde hair has a brilliant streak of blue, and Kit has a matching streak in their hair.         "Hey guys!" Cee hugs Ezra and then hugs you.         "How was your shore leave, Little Bird? I like the fancy hair."         "Isn't that cool? We've got matching streaks," says Cee.         "It's semi-permanent," says Kit, "We'll pick a different color next time!" You have to smile. Cee looks revitalized. Three cycles spent with her friend, just doing normal kid things has been good for her.         "Check this out!" says Cee and pushes a laminated drawing towards the two of you. Ezra makes a show of looking carefully.         "I recognize you and Kit," he says, "I am not familiar with these other people, though."         "They're from The Streamer Girl, dumbass," says Cee, "Here's Clo and Reive and Lily and Auri. See? Kit put us right in the story." Ezra gives Kit his best smile.         “You drew this? You are very talented." Kit smiles big.         "Thanks!" says Kit, "I'll put you guys in the next one! Maybe you could be professors at Bowsun Academy or something."         "I look forward to it," says Ezra.         "Time to go, Cee," you say and Cee and Kit exchange one more enthusiastic hug.         "Later fringeling!" Calls Kit.         "Piss off, stationer!" Cee calls back. Ezra curls his fingers around yours and squeezes. Cee tells you all about her three cycles with Kit, the movies they watched, the Real Food they ate. How Kit's little brother wanted a blue streak in his hair too and Kit's parents said no and how mad he got. I wanna be cool like Kit and Cee.         "I told him he's got plenty of time to be cool," says Cee, "And he told me that I don't understand how the world works. He's like, four." Ezra laughs.         "Wise for his years." Says Ezra. And the three of you fall quiet. You find the pod much as you left it, towed to the Polly Jean and clipped in, transferred by the station's tugs. You settle in and do a full systems check. Calling out the checklists and making sure everything is good for transit.         "What are you guys so happy about?" asks Cee.         "Whatever do you mean?" asks Ezra.         "You been all smiles since I hit the dock," says Cee, "Both of you. Did we score a really good job? Did we win the Puggart Bench lottery or something? What aren't you telling me?"         "That," says Ezra, "Is for us to know and you to endlessly speculate about."         "Hmph," says Cee.

Tagging: @oonajaeadira, @grogusmum , @honestly-shite, @writeforfandoms, @ladyvengeancesposts, @the-blind-assassin-12

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

Ink on his heart

Summary: Here’s how Bucky Barnes got a haircut and then decided it was about damn time he controlled his own destiny - starting with a bit of ink. 

Star Spangled Bingo Square: “A thoughtful gift”

Characters: Bucky Barnes x TattooArtist!Reader

Words: 7,400 Warnings: Tattoo experiences, a couple stories about war. Some swearing. Mostly lots of feels and fluff.

A/N: This one has been in my head a long time, I love tattoos and I love the idea of Bucky getting them! While I desperately wish I could draw the designs in my head, hopefully you get enough of a word picture to imagine. And yes, it is kinda long (I know, I know), but I couldn’t stop myself! 

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Not that Bucky’s counting, but it’s been three days, 18 hours and 26 minutes and he can’t get over it.

In the damp, chilly hours before dawn, he sits on the floor of the tower living room, watching the marshmallows in his hot chocolate melt in white swirls. Now and then, he lifts his eyes to the windows, finds the faint edges of his reflection in the dark glass, and tilts his head. Tentative fingers scratch through close cropped hair and a slow smile appears. Even now, he expects long strands trailing through his fingers. Believes he can feel the phantom tug of a snarl.

It was just a haircut. What a simple, ordinary thing.  

But Bucky Barnes has never been ordinary.

That small act triggered a startling transformation. Decades of heartbreak fell away with that dark hair, revealing the shape of a man he begins to remember, and it makes him think. About small things, about change. About simple acts making an extraordinary difference.

The last haircut Bucky remembers before the beginning of his first ending, was January 1945. The memory came back one evening, of a tent in Austria, the heavy silence of snow drifting down. He remembers Steve with a dull scissors, snipping carefully along his ear, remembers the catch of a knife gently shaving his neck. It was a ritual they shared for years. When pennies were tight and life was tough, they took care of each other.

And then? Then there was after.

After the fall, after capture, after the world went pear-shaped. Hydra wasn’t concerned with the formalities of self-care, a haircut was functional. Sharp scissors biting into his scalp, rough hands tearing his hair, a harsh slap if he considered resisting. Get it done and get it done fast. The Asset has work to do.

He despised those haircuts.

But now, here he is. No more handlers and horrors. No more running. No more hiding. No more ropes dragging him somewhere he doesn’t want to be.

Wresting back his independence was exhilarating.

When Steve had finished this haircut - because Bucky still preferred a Steve Rogers special to anything - he’d dusted off Bucky’s shoulders and waited. Sam stood behind him, and Bucky rolled his eyes, expecting a barrage of sassy comments.

But Sam just ruffled the freshly cut hair and laughed.

“Not bad old man. Still not as handsome as yours truly, but hey - maybe someday.”

Such a simple thing, a haircut.

It makes him wonder what else he might do, just for himself.      

Fuzzy and disconnected, an old memory flickers to life. It buzzes in his brain, images and connections filtering through the cracks and Bucky lets out a breathless laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “Okay.”

He closes his eyes and sips his hot chocolate.

*****

Steve yawns when he answers the door. Blond hair spikes in every direction and he rubs his eyes, looking for all the world like a sleepy, overgrown toddler.

“Hey, man. Everything okay?”

Bucky leans against the doorframe and chews his thumbnail while he gathers his thoughts.

“Sure, just - can I get a favor?”

Bemused, Steve ushers him inside and Bucky plops in the red bean bag chair Steve keeps tucked beside his dresser. Stretching out his legs, he waits for Steve to flop back into bed and snuggle his pillow, before he speaks.

“Remember back in ’37 when we were coming home from that shitty bar in Midtown, and we saw that sailor getting a tattoo?”

Whatever Steve expected, it wasn’t this. It takes him a moment to conjure the image, but when it comes he belts out a laugh.

“That terrified kid gettin’ a big heart on his arm? Looked ready to shit his pants?”

Bucky grins at the memory, a milk-faced kid with hair dark and shiny as an oil-slick.  

“Thought he was gonna puke on the guy.”

“Yeah, and didn’t we stand outside that window arguing while you tried to convince me we both needed one? Something about good girls liking bad boys?”  

“Hey, I stand by that statement!”

“Oh fuck off, you know exactly what your Ma would’ve said if we’d come home with tattoos.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “God, she’d a skinned me alive.”

“Damn straight,” Steve agrees and they fall quiet, momentarily lost in shared memories of a woman with a voice of steel and a heart of gold.

Bucky leans forward and rests his chin on his knee.

“You know, all these years and I’ve never really - done anything like that,” he admits wistfully. “Gotten something done to me, I mean. Something I decided on my own. If that makes sense?”

Controlling his own destiny, choosing to do something by himself, instead of always accepting things done to him - the idea is intoxicating. He remembers the pained grimace on that sailor’s face and he relishes the prospect.

Pain you choose to feel holds a different meaning, than the torture he knows.

“S’never too late, Buck,” Steve says drowsily. “You can do anything you want.”

Bucky contemplates Steve’s words. He can do anything he wants. Heart beating fast, he takes a deep breath.

“So listen, I was thinking -”

*****

For two straight weeks, Steve works on ideas.

The floor of his bedroom is littered with sketches and concepts, crumpled sheets of paper dappled with flowing lines. Finally, after midnight on a dreary Thursday, he knocks on Bucky’s door. The moment it opens, he shoves his tattered leather portfolio in Bucky’s hands.

“So, I guess, uh - here.”

Steve crosses his arms, his toe tapping nervously, and Bucky chokes down a laugh. Some things about Steve Rogers remain comfortingly unchanged. No matter how incredible his work, all confidence seems to evaporate the moment Bucky lays eyes on anything.

—

“Give it back asshole!”

“God dammit Steve, YOU’RE the one who asked me to look!”

“Yeah well, I changed my mind, now give it back!”

—

Bucky remembers laughing while Steve chased him around their apartment. He remembers the neighbors banging on the wall, shouting at them to shut up, and he remembers the smell of their forgotten scrambled eggs burning. But most of all, he remembers that drawing - he tucked that portrait of his mother in his rucksack the day he shipped out and it stayed there, a good luck charm all through the war.

Steve had cried when Bucky told him.

Because Bucky’s opinion was always the one that mattered. Seventy years changes nothing.

Tonight, he opens the leather case, revealing three separate drawings. Outlines of black ink and a rainbow of colors paint over the curves and breaks of a human form and he pores over each page. Each drawing is utterly unique, telling the story of Bucky Barnes in metaphors and moments.    

There are no words.

His throat feels suddenly thick, cotton lodged in his windpipe.

“I can redo them,” Steve blurts out. He snatches at the paper, but Bucky spins sideways, blocking the reach.

“The fuck you will. You ain’t touching these,” his voice cracks. Blinking back the flood of emotion, he looks up. “This is - they’re perfect, Steve. Thank you.”

Steve blushes petal pink and coughs to hide his delight. He fails miserably, of course, but that’s one more reason Bucky loves the little punk.

*****

One week later, Bucky stands before a demure brick storefront on a slow Brooklyn side street, the portfolio housing Steve’s three precious drawings clutched tight in a sweaty hand. Glancing at the address in his hand, he looks up to find stenciled letters curving across a glass window.

BROOKLYN INK ESTABLISHED 1973

“Here we go,” he mutters. Before he can lose his nerve, he shoves forward.

Three steps inside the tattoo parlor, he pulls up short.

Wow.

Black iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, splashing sparkles across plush velvet chairs, rich violet and bright turquoise. The floor is an eclectic mix of reclaimed barn board, full of knots and whorls in every shade of brown. Artwork in black and white frames line the brick wall, tattoo designs, letters and fonts, photos of finished work. The entire space overflows with warmth, and Bucky feels instantly at ease.  

The front desk is empty, but he hears someone rattling around back, so he takes a seat. Piled high on an end table are bundles of photo albums, full of work; he sinks into the cushions and starts flipping through.  

Immersed in the images, he misses the sound of quiet footsteps.

“Are you James?”

The voice startles him and in one swift move, he manages to throw the album on the floor and tumble from the chair. Pages of photographs spill everywhere and he crawls over, hastily scooping them up and babbling one inappropriate apology after another.

“Shit! Sorry, I’m sorry! Shit, I mean I’m sorry for saying shit. Fuck, I didn’t - oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m not usually so - ”

Soft laughter greets him and he looks up in panic, a more refined apology on his lips, but the words evaporate.

Crouching beside him, graceful hands gather up the mess of photos, slipping them back into the album. Dropping it carelessly on the end table, she bounces back to her feet and offers him a hand.

“No worries,” she says with a breathtaking smile. “I shouldn’t have startled you.”

Although he has no need for the support, Bucky reaches mutely for her outstretched fingers because he can’t help but take them. When she tugs, he allows her to pull him up.  

“I’m, um - Bucky. Please, call me Bucky.”

“Hello Bucky,” she says. She shares her name and he repeats it slowly. Clearing his throat, he takes a deep breath.

“Thanks for meeting me so late, I know it’s after hours.”

“Sure,” she says lightly. “So, what can I do for you?”

This is the tricky part.

“On the website, it mentioned you had experience with - with tattooing around scars,” he begins carefully. “Scar tissue I mean. Is that right?”

With his question, her expressions turns serious. She observes him for a long moment.

“Yes, I do. Can I ask how long you served?” she asks delicately and Bucky acknowledges her perception with a short nod. He toys with the zipper on Steve’s portfolio, debating his response.

“Seemed like forever,” he finally says, and it’s the most honest answer he has.

Nodding silently, she motions him behind the counter.

“Come on back, let’s see what you had in mind.”

Hugging the pictures to his chest, Bucky follows, eyes saucer wide as they weave through the work area to her space. The shop smells like the woodsy smoke from the candles sitting along her table, mixed with ink and latex and an odd sterile tang. He inhales and discovers he likes it, the strange scent lighting him up.  

Dropping to her stool, she gestures for him to have a seat. Bucky sits gingerly, wide eyes still staring. When she catches his eye, he flushes.

“Sorry. First time I’ve been in a shop.”

“That’s okay, there’s lots to see,” she says easily. Looking at the portfolio still clutched against his chest, she grins. “Did you have some ideas already?”

He thrusts the portfolio at her. Propping it on her knees, she flips it open and he beams when he hears her astonished gasp.

“I like the colors there, if you think they’re possible?”

“Sure, might take some extra time, but I can do it,” she murmurs, pinching her lip. Turning the page sideways, she examines every minute detail, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is exquisite.”  

“I’ll tell my artist. He’s a real diva sometimes.”

“I’d say he’s earned that right,” she laughs, tracing the paper with a light finger. She flips to the second picture and tilts her head. “The grays and silvers might look nice with midnight blue for contrast?”

Bucky nods eagerly. “Yeah, I love that idea.”

She looks again, examining the intricate design.

“Can you tell me about your pain tolerance? The designs are beautiful, but they’re complex. Each will take multiple sessions to finish.”

Bucky drops his eyes. He heaves a sigh at the obligatory question.

“It’s high,” he mutters. “Very - high.”

Silence follows his admission. When he dares to look up again, he feels a twinge in his chest at the compassion he finds. He offers a rueful smile and she slowly returns it.

“Would you like to come after hours? It can get noisy during the day, if you prefer things quieter. Most soldiers like that better.”

There is a sweep of relief at her casual acknowledgement. He huffs out a shaky breath.

“That would be great. If you don’t mind, I mean.”

“Not at all. I’m a night owl anyway.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. “Me too.”

She looks back to the portfolio, carefully shuffling the pages.

The third picture appears.

And Bucky sees it, that precise moment when realization sinks in. When she realizes exactly who is sitting in her chair tonight. There is no doubt the drawing gives that fact away. Heart pounding, he flinches, steeling himself for the inevitable.

But nothing happens.

She meets his nervous gaze head on and yet - that gentle smile remains.

“Bucky,” she repeats and this time she understands. “Oh. It’s nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. Come back tomorrow night, 9pm. Don’t be late.”

He leaves the tattoo shop feeling lighter than he has in years.

*****

TATTOO 1: FOREARM

“Show me a man with a tattoo and I’ll show you a man with an interesting past.” - Jack London

*****

Perpetually early for everything, Bucky arrives at 8:45pm the next night.

The bell over the door tinkles when he enters, and she looks up from the front desk and waves. His stomach unexpectedly leaps and he thinks it must be nerves.

“Hey, Bucky,” her voice is soft.

“Evening,” he says shyly.  

“You ready to do this?”

“Could hardly sleep last night,” he confesses with a grin.

Sliding timidly into her black leather chair, he watches her arrange tools on a shiny silver tray. An arm rest is attached to his right side, and he dries his sweaty palm on his jeans before easing his arm onto the cushion, palm up. When she drops onto her stool at his side, he offers a weak smile.  

“You got the email I sent with all the information, right? Did you have any questions?”

He scrunches his nose, recalling the long, detailed summary she shared. For each of the three tattoos he requested, she gave him a detailed analysis of the process for creating each design; broke down how long each session would take; gave explicit instructions on the healing and care process; confirmed each individual color and how it would be applied; clarified the tools that would be used, including their brand names and how each one worked; she even provided floor plans of her shop - outlining entries and exits and bathrooms and locations of fire extinguishers.

It was a novel of information that must’ve taken her hours, and he was inexplicably grateful for the time she spent just to make him comfortable.

“No questions, I just, uh - thanks. For putting all that together. It was helpful to have all the information. Helps me keep my head on straight.”

“Of course,” she says. “So this first design should take probably 5-6 hours. Since you’re new, we’ll start with short blocks and see how it goes.”

Bucky gives a jerky nod and she pauses, pressing her fingertips against the smooth skin of his forearm.

“Here are the rules. You’re in charge, okay? We can go as fast or as slow as you need. This is not a race, and I have nowhere to be but here. Any time you want to stop, you say the word and I stop. We can take a breather, grab a cup of coffee and start again - or we can call it a night. This is your experience, Bucky. You’re in control. Understand?”

There is a fierce surge of gratitude at her words. Gratitude for her kindness, for her acceptance. Gratitude for her.

“Got it,” he whispers.

And with that, they begin.

Bucky follows each step, while she measures his arm, while she considers the contours and angles of his muscle, while she cleans and preps his skin. When she finally applies a stencil, his heart is hammering so hard his teeth are chattering.

The low buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears with a click.

When the needles touch his skin, sweat instantly beads his neck. Adrenaline drenches his tongue and for one wild moment, Bucky panics. Wonders if this was a terrible idea, because what idiot asks for pain, seriously Barnes, what the hell is wrong with you, why’re you so stupid all the -

And then - oh.

Huh.

Interesting.

Wide-eyed, Bucky follows her careful strokes, black lines appearing on his skin.

It does hurt - sort of. Obviously nothing he can’t handle; in the grand scheme of his life, this would register as a minor inconvenience, but there is a pinch.

But that spark of pain vanishes, when the raw symbolism behind Steve’s design hits him full force.

Holy shit.

How many times through the decades did Bucky Barnes die? And how many times did he rise, born again from the frozen ash of oblivion? It was simply what the Soldier did. But it was a shadow-life, nothing more. Bucky never knew how close he was to giving up, until that day above the Potomac, Steve’s bloody face beneath his furious fists. He was so far gone, so lost and forgotten, until those memories cracked the Soldier’s fierce veneer.

And suddenly he was Bucky again. Awake and alive. For the first time in 70 years he felt fire in his soul. For the first time in 70 years he could breathe.

Tears inexplicably fill his eyes.    

“All okay?”

Through a tunnel, Bucky hears her voice. Hypnotized by the metaphor inking itself into his skin, his head feels waterlogged when blinks up at her.

“Sorry?”

She scans his face, her thumb rubbing the pulse thrumming at his wrist.

“Everything okay?” She asks again and Bucky feels a potent rush of euphoria.

“Yes,” he says slowly. The excitement bubbles over and he lets out an ecstatic laugh. “Yes! This is incredible. This is - fucking hell, this is amazing.”

Chuckling to herself, she bends back to her task.

“So I guess we’ll keep going?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

Two hours later, the outline of the Phoenix is inked into his skin, crisp black lines like fresh paint. Long tail feathers are curled around his wrist, the lush feathered body splashed over his forearm, her wings spread open and curving around his arm, her head reaching toward the sky.

Born from ash. Alive again.

Bucky hates to cover it up, but she insists.

“Follow the cleaning instructions and it should be fine. We need to wait between the sessions, give you time to heal.”

At that comment, he fidgets.

“Actually, I heal pretty - fast.”

“I assumed you might. Usually I say 2-3 weeks between sessions, so how about you come back in 1 week and we can see. Let’s just make sure. Does that work?”

Bucky glances at the crisp white bandage on his arm.

“Okay, that works,” he says.

She squeezes his hand and he meets her eyes.

“You did great,” she tells him.

Bucky smiles in return. And he doesn’t stop for the next six days.

*****

When he walks into the shop for his next session, he carries a large coffee for himself and an extra large iced peach green tea for her. When he gets to the front desk, he thrusts the cup at her.  

“Evening. Um, here. Saw you had one last time, so - anyway.”

“Bucky, thank you. I’ve been craving one all day.” She gives the straw an experimental bite, before taking a long drink and for some reason, the silly quirk makes his heart bounce.

After a quick check on how he’s healed, she declares him perfect and they get started, settling into a comfortable silence. After an hour of buzzing, Bucky clears his throat.

“Is it okay to talk while you work?”

“It is,” she affirms, dabbing at the ink. Glancing up, she sees hesitant blue eyes. “I’m good at listening too. Sometimes it’s nice just to listen.”  

Bucky figures that’s a fair statement. He fiddles with a stray thread on his shirt.

“Do you read much?” He asks hopefully, picturing the teetering stack of books beside his bed. She perks at the question.

“I love to read. Have a pile of books on my nightstand waiting for me to find time. What about you? Are you reading anything good now? Any favorites I should know?”

Bucky swallows the happy surprise. If he could, he’d be content to spend the rest of his years with a comfortable chair, a cup of coffee, and an unending supply of stories. He could talk about books for days, he just normally keeps quiet, because most people aren’t interested in that facet of Bucky Barnes.

So he begins to talk.

He tells her how Natasha lent him all her Russian copies of Pushkin and Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, insisting that reading in the original language was infinitely better. He describes how he found a copy of Rumi’s poetry at a yard sale, and what an incredible treasure it was. He flusters recounting how much he cried reading ‘A Fault in our Stars’ and says he was scared shitless to even see a clown for a full year after reading Stephen King.    

He talks and talks and talks, and when he finally stops to breathe, she glances up.

“It’s nice to hear a man who’s so well read,” she says and Bucky preens at the compliment. “Do you have an all time favorite? Something you never get tired of?”

A favorite? No question.

“Yeah, I do. Something I read during the war and kinda fell in love. It’s about here, I guess. About Brooklyn.”

At the description, her mouth quirks, but she keeps working.

“Did you ever think about a book quote for a tattoo?”

Now there’s an idea. He makes a mental note to think of a quote he could add as another tattoo. Or maybe another couple tattoos. Hell, one session in and he’s already addicted.  

The comment tumbles free before he realizes he’s spoken out loud. He blushes at her laughter.

“It can be addicting,” she agrees. Bucky understands completely, seeing the vibrant crimson ink soak into his skin, painting the bird’s feathers. And then she pauses, meeting his eyes with a peculiar expression. “The right words can make you feel invincible.”

Setting the tattoo machine down, she rolls her chair back a bit and sits up straight. Lifting the hem of her shirt, Bucky sees a line of gold text inked below her ribs, his eyes following the flowing cursive.

“She was all of these things and of something more,” he reads aloud.

“‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’ is my favorite book too,” she says quietly. There is a long, unbroken moment where they stare into each others eyes. He should say something, he thinks. Something intelligent or witty or anything, but instead he just thinks about the fact that he found a woman in Brooklyn to permanently carve pictures into his skin and she has the same favorite book as him.

Bucky always was a sucker for fate.

“That’s - that’s really - I love that,” he finally says instead.

*****

A week later, Bucky arrives with a bundle of folders and an exasperated expression.

“This is really annoying, but do you mind if I finish some reports while you work? Got behind, someone’s gonna have my ass.” Bucky raises the papers apologetically.

“No problem,” she says easily. “Let’s keep your ass safe.”

Bending back to her task, Bucky snorts a laugh. They’re just a handful of mission reports, normally he types them soon as he returns, but lately he’s been slacking, because lately he has other things he finds more interesting.

Like the scene in front of him.

Together they work, each with their own pen. Bucky writes, she colors, and the clock on the wall ticks along. After awhile, she takes a break to stretch. Rolling her shoulders, she observes him.

“Are you left-handed?” she asks curiously and it takes Bucky a moment to think.

“Oh. Uh, not really,” he says. “But I can switch. Never been a problem.”

At the confession, she raises her eyebrows.

“That’s impressive. I wish I had a talent like that.”

He ducks his head at the praise. And he keeps writing, of course. Maybe adds a bit more flair. After all, the old Bucky Barnes did like to swagger.    

*****

“Well, I think that’s it.”

It takes a beat before Bucky understands what she means. Confused, he peers up at her with a dopey expression and she gestures at his arm.

He feels his heart lurch.

It flames to life along his arm, painted in vibrant ruby red and rich crimson and deep plum, highlights edged in shining gold. Mesmerized, Bucky stares down at the lines of ink and he flexes, the tendons of his arm shifting, and the bird moves. For one wild moment, he believes if he stays still, it could leap from his skin and take flight.  

It leaves him breathless.

“God, this is better - fuck, it’s so much better - than I ever imagined. How did you - wow. I don’t know how you did it, but - thank you. Thank you so much.”

Unanticipated emotion makes his voice tremble. Because this is the first time Bucky Barnes chose something permanent for himself. Serums and metal arms and bullets and blades, those were always forced upon him, his pleading refusals met with violence and sneering indifference.

But this?

This.

This.

This is all his.

*****

TATTOO 2: BACK

“Wear your heart on your sleeve in this life.” - Sylvia Plath

*****

“So, uh, how exactly does this work?”

Standing beside the leather chair while she organizes her inks, Bucky wrinkles his nose. She looks up and motions for him to turn, straddling the chair with his chest pressed against the back.

“Are you comfortable completely removing your shirt? Or would you prefer to leave it part way on? I’ll just need it out of the way for the right side of your back.”

Bucky grimaces. Eventually she’s going to see his shoulder - he knows that - but he’s not in the mood to rip that band-aid off yet.  

“Uh - let’s do part of the way if that’s okay?”

“That’s okay,” she confirms and he awkwardly tugs his right arm free, baring the broad expanse of his back. Tucking his arms in front of him, he slings a leg over the chair and rests his chin carefully on the headrest.

He says nothing, simply stays still while she absorbs the sight. Littered up and down his back are a litany of scars, puckers from the occasional bullet, thin lines from errant blades, and a few other marks he prefers not to define. His voice is muffled when he warily asks.

“Are you able to - work with it?“    

“Absolutely,” she answers firmly and Bucky warms at the decisiveness in her tone. Her confidence makes him feel infinitely more positive.

This is the largest of his three tattoos, stretching from the tip of his shoulder blade and flowing down to his waist. It will also take the longest, but Bucky assures her he has no issue sitting perfectly still for hours.

It’ll be worth it. He can’t wait to show Sam - he’ll get a kick out of this one.

Once she applies the stencil over his skin, she goes to work, dropping into that headspace of deep focus. She works so quietly for so long, he falls into a trance, lulled by the melodic buzz.

When she speaks, it startles him.

“What made you decide you wanted a tattoo?”

He lays his cheek along the edge of the chair so he can see her from the corner of his eye when he answers.

“S’random, but back in ’37, me and Steve were out and I remember walking by this old tattoo shop over in Midtown. They had one of those big glass windows with the chair in front, so people could stand and watch. Anyway, we walk by and there was this kid sitting in the chair, and no fuckin’ joke, he was getting a big heart on his arm with ‘MOM’ written in the middle.”

“Ah yes, the ever popular ‘mom’ tribute. I’ve done a few of those,” she says and Bucky grins.

“Well anyway, I always kinda wanted something, you know? Thought about getting one before I shipped out, but I didn’t, and then it was - “ he pauses for a moment, but she encourages him with a questioning hmmm? and Bucky bravely pushes forward. “I had lots of years where I didn’t get to make my own decisions. And there was so much - bad shit that happened to me. Anyway, I guess I thought if someone’s gonna do something to me, I wanted it to be on my own terms. You know?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I think that makes perfect sense.”

Bucky sits quietly, contemplating. The question has been rattling around his brain for awhile and it spills free before he can stop himself. 

“The whole process, it feels sort of  - intimate, doesn’t it?”

He flushes at the insinuation, but intimate is the best way to describe it, he thinks, this practice of someone permanently carving their art into your skin.

“It is intimate,” she says softly, leaning closer. “It’s almost like you’re - leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin? I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s what it’s always felt like.”

Bucky nods, watching her capable, artistic, beautiful hands as they move, slowly transferring bits and pieces of herself to him.

What a gift. He holds on tight.

*****

It was bound to happen at one of the sessions.

It’s been dark and rainy for days, buckets dumped from the heavens, the perpetual grumble of thunder always near. When Bucky comes through the front door, he feels like a wet dog. He shakes out his jacket, stomps his boots. He feels off base tonight, the result of bad sleep, bad dreams, and one particularly bad mission. He’s frustrated with himself for bringing it with him, thinks maybe he should’ve cancelled, but the thought of skipping his session - both the ink and her - was too depressing.

So instead of holing up in his room and moping under the covers, he braved the storm.

The one inside and out.

Searching for calm, he licks chapped lips.

“Hey,” he says, cringing when his voice cracks.

“Hey, Buck,” she turns cheerfully, but when she sees him squinting at her through the droplets cascading down his face, his shoulders hunched and tense, she stops. Looks him up and down and her expression softens. Beckoning him back, she digs up a towel and a dry t-shirt with ‘BROOKLYN INK’ stamped across the front, ushering him to the bathroom.

“Take all the time you need. No rush.”

Bucky mumbles his thanks and shuts the door. Gripping the sink, he glares at the mirror, at the smudge of dark beneath his eyes, at the clench of his jaw. Closing his eyes, he breathes slow and deep.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.”

He repeats the mantra, determined to settle. He’s been eager for this session all week, he’s sure as hell not ruining it because he can’t get his idiot brain to stop spinning.

When he finally emerges, he finds her arranging her work space. Halting in front of her, he keeps trembling hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes downcast.

“I’m afraid I’m poor company tonight,” he admits quietly.

“That’s okay. We can reschedule, Bucky,” she says softly and Bucky feels the disconcerting sting of tears. He rubs the heel of his hand against watery eyes.  

“If it’s okay, I’d - I’d rather go ahead. Been looking forward to seeing you - uh, seeing you work, all week. It was just - “ he pauses and fights the temptation to spill his guts. No, he snarls internally, she doesn’t need to hear all your shit.

He clamps his mouth shut and shrugs instead.

She says nothing, but when she gives his hand a comforting squeeze, Bucky feels that familiar surge of gratitude. She guides him carefully toward the chair and he slumps into the seat, automatically tugging up his new shirt.  

“Just close your eyes and breath. You’re okay.”

Bucky rests his chin on the edge of the chair. Troubled eyes flutter shut, and the comforting buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears, muting the sound of the storm raging outside. When he feels the prick of the needles, he lets out a weary breath. And when he feels the easy pressure of her fingers, he begins to relax.

For hours, she works. Firm strokes, painting the story across his skin.

The dark night begins to fade before she finally sets her tools aside. When he climbs to his feet, she pulls him into a gentle hug.    

Bucky sinks into her arms.

That morning, the sun begins to shine.

*****

Bucky’s been sitting for a couple hours now, eyeing the brick wall behind the chair. A question pops into his head and he feels like a jerk for not asking sooner.

“Hey - all these hours together, and I never asked you - what made you want to draw on people for a living?”

She hums at the question, and he can hear the happiness in her reply.

“Well, I always wanted to be an artist. For my eleventh birthday, my best friend Mike gave me this set of gel pens, there were a million colors. When I told him I wanted to be a tattoo artist, he let me draw pictures all over him for practice. He insisted on being the first person I inked, once I got my license. Would always tell people he was the ‘original canvas’ for my brilliance.”

When she laughs, Bucky chuckles with her; it reminds him of Steve.

“Sounds like a good man,” he says.

“Yeah, he is - he was,” she quietly corrects herself. “He was an EOD specialist in Afghanistan. Right before he left for his last tour, I drew up plans for the arm sleeve he always wanted; he planned to get it when he finished. A month later, he was in a convoy that was moving through the Gereshk Valley in the Helmand Province, when an IED hit his vehicle. He didn’t make it home.”

The story hits home like a kick in the face.

Too many soldiers, too many lives. Bucky reaches back to still her hand. He slowly turns to face her, gently tugging the tattoo machine free and setting it aside. Wordlessly, he offers his hand and she accepts it gratefully, weaving her fingers through his. It takes a few attempts before she speaks again.  

“It took me a long time to get through that. One day I met a friend working down at the VA, and I heard a vet talking about the scars on his legs. He sounded so - sad about them, you know? Kept saying he didn’t recognize himself anymore. And I just stood there thinking, maybe I couldn’t help Mike, but I could still do something.” Staring resolutely down, she considers her fingers still entangled with Bucky’s. “I did some research and took some classes and - learned how to tattoo on scar tissue.”

Bucky gazes at her. He feels a sweep of pride at the way she turned her tragedy into something beautiful.

“I’m so sorry that happened,” he says and she finally looks up, meeting blue eyes bright with compassion. “But you should know, what you’re doing for people, it’s incredible. And if you don’t mind me saying, I think he’d be real god damn proud of you.”

A tear slips down her cheek and she ducks her head, her whisper so low he nearly misses it.

“Thank you Bucky.”

*****

Hours later, Bucky hears a clatter of tools and her huff of relief.

“All done.”

Wiping her hands, she pops excitedly up from the stool and Bucky pushes back from the chair to follow. Without a thought, she grabs his metal hand, tugging him impatiently over to a set of floor length mirrors along the wall. Bucky grips tight and obediently follows, his pulse racing. When she positions him at the mirror, she adjusts the panels so he can see himself from all angles.

“There, have a look.”

Along his spine, the single metal wing bursts free, so intensely realistic, Bucky’s jaw drops. It arches gracefully up, curving over his shoulder blade and sweeping down his back, razor sharp feathers tickling his rib cage before billowing out above his waist. Made from silvers and grays and shaded hints of midnight blue, it glows in the light. When Bucky reaches toward the sky, the muscles shift beneath the ink and it creates the strangest sensation of feathers unfolding.  

All the scars littering his back, a flesh and bone patchwork of memories left by vicious handlers and fights too close for comfort, have disappeared. Blending into the steel of his new wing, their only purpose is to strengthen the image.

After all this time, he’s come to terms with the metal arm so unwillingly gifted all those years ago. But it’s remained a relic of a past life, something heavy, to drag him down.

But now, he rolls his shoulder back and his new metal wing lifts him higher than he’s felt in a long, long time.

*****

TATTOO 3: SHOULDER

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.” - Haruki Murakami

*****

“So our last session.”

“Our last session,” he murmurs.

Bucky thinks for a moment that she seems glum, but maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“This is a tough one,” she warns, “but I think we can do it in one session. I won’t try and cover them up, it won’t work. The best solution is to incorporate your scars into the design. Make sense?”

Bucky pictures the pattern Steve drew, bright green leaves and vines tracing the seam of his arm, melding with the thick ribbons of raised tissue. It doesn’t matter, but he timidly asks anyway.

“Will it hurt?”

“No,” she says gently. Pressing her hand to his galloping heart, she shakes her head. “It won’t hurt much there, but you need to tell me if it hurts here. You need to tell me if I should stop. Remember, you’re in charge, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers.

Steeling himself, he whips off his shirt, balling it up in nervous hands. The cool air blowing through the shop is a relief for his overheated body.

“Do you mind if I feel the skin here? So I can make sure I approach it right?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Bucky mumbles. Staring at his hands, he waits.

Leaning close, her fingers brush over him, feeling the lines and ridges, assessing the canvas. For ten minutes, she tests his skin, lightly pushing and pressing, observing the scars and bumps where metal meets man.  

“Does it still hurt?”

She doesn’t want to ask, but needs to know what she’s working with. With a grim smile, he shrugs.

“Not really. Aches sometimes, but doesn’t hurt. Can’t feel much there besides some pressure.”

Nodding, she pinches her lip. “I was thinking last night, um - would you want to add anything else into the design? Nothing big, but a few flowers? Some daisies maybe?”

“Sure, I’d like that. Any reason for daisies?” Bucky asks curiously.

Pulling out a few additional bottles of ink, she absently touches the necklace at her throat, and Bucky sees a silver daisy spinning.

“Daisies represent new beginnings. Thought it might be a nice way to end, if you like?”

Does he like it? The idea of having this small thing in common?

Hell yes he likes it.

Maybe - maybe he even more than likes it?

“Yeah. That sounds perfect,” he says softly. He swallows hard and she nods encouragingly.

“Okay. Remember - stop me if you need a break.”

This one, Bucky knows will be hard. It was the reason he left it to the end - the mental fortitude required here is much different.

As she begins, he contemplates the pink furrows gouged into his skin. The memory of how they got there flashes before him, a sick image of shredded skin raked bloody beneath his blunt fingernails. Faint screams of a past life echo in his ears, the smokey cry of his own voice desperate for relief from the pain.

Cold sweat slides down his face and he slams his eyes shut, but that seems to make it worse. The images glow technicolor bright, and he grunts a frustrated breath.

And then, through the thin latex of her glove, he feels her cool hand press against his pounding heart. Cracking an eye open, he finds her calm face and he focuses on her, until his breathing begins to ease. Blinking rapidly, he drinks in the curve of her nose, the shape of her mouth, the beauty of her eyes.

His heart stutters, stunning him into a different kind of breathless.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, wide eyes locked on hers. “Yeah, I’m okay. You can keep going.”

When she bends back to her task, Bucky melts. It occurs to him, that perhaps if she might let him, he could be content watching her forever.

But for tonight, this forever lasts only a few hours before she’s done.

And there it is.

Shades of green line his shoulder, the vines curling and winding around his scars, blending them seamlessly into the foliage covering his skin. Spidering vines trail across his chest, and it seems incompatible in a way, something alive bursting from the stark metal, but the leaves look so real, he swears they flutter with each breath he takes. Strewn throughout the greenery, small splotches of yellow and white reveal her daisies and he sucks in a breath.

For the first time in his life, Bucky stares at his scars and a foreign word comes to mind, one he never, ever thought to use.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “They’re beautiful.”

*****

And so, after 3 months and 30 hours together, they were done.

Hands in his pockets, Bucky gazes at her. Ink on her hands, ink on his heart. It hits him then, this is it. They shuffle, making small talk, neither ready to say goodbye.

“Promise you’ll come back if you decide on anything else. Tattoos, piercings, anything,” she teases and Bucky laughs.

“Told you, I might be a little addicted,” he admits, knowing full well he means to tattoos and to her. “Soon as I can think of a reason, I’ll be back.”

“I hope so,” she says. There is a brief moment where she seems to gather her courage and then she leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re a work of art, Bucky, but - you were before any of this. Remember that.”

Dazed, Bucky touches his cheek.

Indelible and perfect, the tattoo of her lips inks itself straight onto his heart.

*****

When she arrives at the shop the next day, there is a new sight sitting on the front desk.

Daisies, their white petals and yellow faces as fresh as the afternoon sunshine filtering through the window. Bemused, she looks around the bustling shop and spies the card propped beside the overflowing vase, her name scrawled across the front.

-

“When I got home, I stood in front of the mirror for hours, staring at your artwork. Every time I told myself to go to sleep, I found something new I loved. The tail feathers on my Phoenix or the petals of your daisies. What you’ve given me is more than I ever hoped - I can never thank you enough.

But anyway, I remembered what you said - how this kind of art is like leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin.

Well, I won’t lie - you must have done, because I miss you already.

So at the risk of being forward (although I did break into your shop and leave this, so maybe this won’t seem that forward), would you have dinner with me?  

I think there’s another new beginning waiting out there, if you’d like to find it with me.  

Yours,

Bucky”

-

At the bottom of the note, a phone number is printed.

Brushing her fingers over the delicate white petals, she pictures him, that dark haired man with eyes like blue ink, so heartbreakingly beautiful inside and out. She feels the unconscious pull of her heart, telling her all she needs to know.

A new beginning.

She says yes.

*****

[exhaustedpotat0]

Hi bb!!

Could I request these boys: Bakugou, Todoroki and Shinso are with their twin toddler sons? And if you could also add like the softest sweetest thing they do for them? 🥺

I love your writing sm! 😭💞

OH MY GOODNESS!!!!! thank you so much for requesting this. I will try my absolute best so I hope you like it!

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

Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou’s kids are rarely angels but when they had their moments, they were absolutely fucking adorable just like bakugou

You had remembered when they were first born, Bakugou was by your side while the doctors were performing a C-section. He had watched with a sparkle in his eye as the doctors carefully wiped away the goop from the two little boys and you swear that you had saw some tears in his eyes as they hand you guys your little ones.

When you were stitched back up and in your hospital room, being wheeling in you saw Bakugou crouching right next to the beds admiring their features as he tries to implant that imagine in his brain so it could last forever

Bakugou was given the green light to do skin to skin contact with the little boys. You watched him protectively have his hands on their small backs as he supports them to make sure that they don’t fall out of his arms. He would being staring at the two trying to figure out whose features they had gotten. As he turns to you, he tells you that the oldest one had gotten a lot of your features while the youngest one had gotten a lot of his features. You giggled at his findings as he glares at you for laughing at him.

You had told him that he was already becoming an amazing father and that you couldn’t have asked for a better person to have children with and he had a blush on his face as he hides his face so you can’t see his blush

The oldest quiet one was definitely a daddy’s boy, it didn’t matter if Bakugou was trying to use the bathroom his son would be right by the door or if not in the bathroom as Bakugou is trying to get him to leave so he could take a dump in peace

The young loud one was a mama’s boy. He would be following you around as he was stuck at your hip. He was a sensitive boy and he found comfort to be around you 

Don’t get me wrong, both of the boys love you guys equally

~

You were looking in the fridge to see what you could make for your twin boys for breakfast when you spot a familiar lunch box relaxing on the shelf of the fridge. Immediately recognizing it as Bakugou’s lunch box, you feared that your husband would be too busy to remember to eat something for lunch so you decided to take it to him as a surprise. You quickly made your three year old little twin boys breakfast as you ate breakfast with them. Dressing the twin boys up in Dynamight hero costume sweatshirts, as it was a little chilly outside, and you getting dressed as well. You guys headed off to give Bakugou his lunch.

Arriving at his agency, you greet Bakugou’s receptionist as you guys have a good relationship since you have come to the agency a lot. She allows you to enter his office as she waves to the little boys. The twins knocked on the door as they hear their father say come in, opening for the short ones they run to him as he smiles at his little family in his office.

“You had forgotten your lunch, so we decided since we don’t have a lot to do today that we go drop it off for you to make sure that you eat something,” you say as you place his lunch on his desk and give him a kiss on his lips. He smiles at you as he looks at his boys behind your legs. Trying to engrave this moment in his mind forever Bakugou scoops his little boys into his arms as he tells you to hug them as well. One big happy family group hug. 

Todoroki Shoto 

Shoto had never thought that he would have children in his future. He was scared that he would become like his father but since you were there, he was always reassured that he would never become like his father when you were by his side

When you guys were at the doctor to get an ultrasound and you found that there was two babies and not one, you saw Shoto have so much emotions in his eyes as you saw a single tear roll down his check

Shoto had always been at your side throughout your pregnancy and sometimes was a little over protective

Seeing Shoto show these much emotions was something that you thought you would never experience throughout the times you were dating, sure he would show a bit but it wasn’t a lot as the time that you gave birth to your two little ones

He would help you with the twins when they were crying through the night because he had saw how tired you have become when you would be with them throughout the day while he was at work. You were very happy that he would help you

The boys both had Shoto’s personality as they both were quite quiet and didn’t cry that much. They would also be protective of you around people that they didn’t know especially around Enji after you had talked to him about how he was changing and that he should know his grandchildren and after you promised him that if he does anything to your children then you will have hell to pay 

~

Shoto had the day off from hero work from his fathers agency, seeing as you had the day off as well he wanted to spend the day with his family and your two little ones couldn’t be more excited to spend the day with their dad. You saw the opportunity to make Shoto breakfast in bed since he had been working so much that you wanted him to relax and not worry about anything.

You and the twins were in the kitchen as you were manning the stove cooking up some eggs and your twins were making cute drawings for your hero husband. Finished with cooking the eggs and the rest of the food, you grabbed a tray and made the presentation look nice before heading up the stairs to your shared bedroom. 

The twins were taking a while to get up the stairs but you didn’t mind as you were trying to make sure that you wouldn’t spill the food all over the stairs. Slowly opening the door to the shared room and heading over to Shoto’s side of the bed. The twins gently patting their father to get him to wake up but not to startle him awake. Shoto feels the gentle pats and peeks an eye open to see his beautiful wife and two amazing boys in front of him.

Sitting up as you give him a kiss on the cheek and set the tray down on his lap as you go over to the other side of the bed and sit right next to him. Shoto wishes that he could be here every morning but sometimes his hero work has made him leave early in the morning.

As he watched his wife nurture their children, he is burning the image into his memory so he can think of the beautiful moment in his mind forever.

Shinsou Hitoshi

Shinsou was shocked to hear that you were pregnant because you guys had never talked about having kids ever since you had gotten married

it was because you guys were new heros and wanted to get further into your careers before you guys had started to talk about kids 

but things happened and Shinsou was excited to start this new chapter with you in your guys life

During the first appointment, you guys could only see one baby as you were not that far along to see if there were more than one, but as you got farther along and you had went to your next appointment the doctor had noticed that the little one wasn’t the only one in there which had you two really shocked 

Shinsou was a big help throughout your whole pregnancy as he wanted to be right by your side the 24/7 but sometimes you would push him to go do something so you can breath a little bit

He would help you when they were constantly moving in your belly to get more room, rubbing your belly or talking to them would be his go to move to helping them settle down so you can get some sleep through the night

When the two were born, they both had their dad’s lavender hair and eye color

They looked like exact copies of Shinsou 

Also getting his quiet personality 

~

Shinsou had just gotten off from hero duty and was now heading home to his beautiful wife and children. He had texted you that he was on his way home but he never got an answer back so he was a little worried if something had happened to you and the twins.

Walking into the front door of his home, he doesn’t hear the pitter patter of feet running towards the door or you talking so he started to become more worried. Until he walked further into the house and landing in the living room to see a movie quietly playing in the background with you on the couch as the twins were on either side of you.

Smiling to himself as he sees the beautiful sight, he walks up to the pile of cuteness to lean down to give you a kiss on the forehead as well as kissing the little ones foreheads. He picked up the boys and took them to their bedrooms before coming back to find you slowly waking up. Shinsou picks you up bridal style and brings you to your bedroom.

He believes that coming home to the sight of his beautiful wife and children snuggling on the couch waiting for him is the best thing that could happen in his life.

[ushidoux]

Be My Last - Iwaizumi x  Reader (Pt. 5)

Summary: You have trouble getting over a past relationship and it’s preventing you from moving forward. (~1.6 words)

Warnings: angst, mention of kid and implied marriage.

A/N: We’re at the end here! I hope you’re okay with the way this ended, and if not... *shrug* LOLLLL, we can talk about it. Thanks for reading up to now!! <333 See you in my next fic!!

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

-

Iwaizumi returned late that evening to realize that you were nowhere to be found.

It shouldn’t have been this alarming for him to not see you hanging upside down off the edge of the couch watching tv, futzing around in the kitchen, maybe staring out off the small balcony or snuggled up under the covers.

But you were absent, and on top of everything, the sight of a dark home proved to be too much for him to handle. Moreover, the home hadn’t always really been his, had it? It was yours and Ushijima’s far before he’d even come into the picture.

He had just been filling a space, just as he’d promised you.

He checked his phone only to be further defeated by the lack of a text message to let him know you were going out. You always let him know.

Iwaizumi turned on his heels and went back to his car. The roads were clearer now and he needed to drive. He needed to go, somewhere. It didn’t matter where to.

Years pass.

“Hot cocoa, please!”

Your daughter collapsed in your arms as she made this request, having run in your direction from the opposite side of the sitting room. She grinned widely, her brownish-green eyes seeming to sparkle despite the low light of the room. She is truly the happiest child, you thought for a moment, smiling as you mussed her hair affectionately.

“Okay, baby, we can get some,” you agreed, pulling her close for a kiss on the forehead, because how could you say no to that pure joy on her face?

“Did you have fun with your new friends?” You asked, rising.

You’d been watching her for a while now, seated in an overstuffed armchair by a roaring fire, thankful to be insulated from the frigid winter weather (turned out the cold of Eastern Europe was an entirely different type of cold than you were used to). It was a pleasure to see her discharge energy, bouncing around the other little kids at the ski lodge resort you’d been residing at since this past weekend.

She nodded. “That’s why I’m gonna drink it really fast so we can play some more!”

You chuckled, and held her little hand tightly. At least someone was having fun.

You on the other hand had decided you hated skiing with a passion six hours into the vacation after spilling spectacularly more than enough times on one of the beginner slopes. Not wanting to ruin your husband’s fun, you’d convinced him to let you stay behind with your four-year-old so that she could socialize, you could have a break, and he could try one of the more exciting slopes. 

Everyone won.

Well, sorta. He’d pouted as he set out on his own, and now you felt a little bad. Maybe you’d try again the next morning for him after you left your little one at a kids’ event.

“Is Daddy coming back soon?” 

Your little princess’ legs swung excitedly as she sipped her hot cocoa with far too many marshmallows, just after you’d blown at it a little to make sure she didn’t burn herself.

“Daddy will join us soon,” you assured her, your own hands warm with a cup of tea.

---

“I’m sorry.”

Before you is a glass of water with too much lemon. You’re seated at a diner, the very diner where you’d first confessed your feelings for him, and he’s speaking to you but you barely hear him - all you hear is the rushing of blood in your temples. 

Why now? What do you do with sorry after all this time?

Wakatoshi sees your expression and cracks a weary smile. 

“I shouldn’t say that, should I? It’s too little, too late.”

He’s right but you don’t answer.

It’s weird to see him after all these years, seated just across from you as though you were on a date as usual. You can imagine a heaping stack of pancakes between you, covered in too much fruit and too much syrup and him chastising you before you force a berry into his mouth. You can imagine laughter. You can imagine gentle touches, kisses, hugs. You can imagine the words ‘I love you.’

Is that what he’s sorry for?

“To-... Wakatoshi, why did you message me?” You don’t mean to sound curt, but if you speak longer you feel as though your voice will give out.

He winces almost imperceptibly at the use of his full name. But he’s always been steadier than you, emotion-wise. At least you think so.

“I wish it had been different.”

“So do I,” you say, quickly before thinking. But you don’t really, do you? 

There’s a man who loves you, possibly more than he loves himself, than he loves anything in the world. And if it weren’t for this, for Ushijima ‘releasing’ you, no matter how harshly, you wouldn’t have had the experience to be loved by him.

“I was wrong.”

He was. He was absolutely wrong. But what’s wrong and what’s right no longer matters. What matters is what is.

He pauses and sighs. You can see his hands now grip the end of the table as though to keep steady. 

“Thank you for coming.”

There is another pause, one that is suddenly too great for you to handle, where you want to sigh but instead you draw in a double breath.

You’re embarrassed because you do not intend to cry. Not after all this. Not in front of him. 

“You didn’t love me enough to compromise,” you end up sputtering out.

Your tears aren’t falling yet but your eyes swim and you blink them back furiously. “Why all this? Why now?”

He blinks once and you can see his fingers tighten around the edge of the booth, knuckles white.

“I was stupid then. I’m different now.”

The fact that his eyes are so sincere makes your heart wrench. You know that he doesn’t lie, he’s never felt a need to.

It’s a response that infuriates you but your anger is cool rather than hot and it’s diffuse, deafening and directionless. There’s no one to be mad at except the very fabric of time.

What do I do with this? What can I do?

Your heart settles, and you measure your next words carefully. 

---

“Daddy!”

Your daughter’s eyes widened immediately as she saw him approach behind you, and in mere seconds, she jumped out of her chair to embrace her father, nearly knocking over her hot cocoa in the process. You managed to salvage it to your credit, and you turned in your chair to flash a teasing grin.

“How were the slopes?”

---

“There was once a time where I would have followed you anywhere if you asked me to. Maybe it was unhealthy, maybe it was naïve, but I truly loved you to that extent. I would have left everything behind if you asked.”

The solemn look he sports on his face, so stoic as a defense mechanism that it seems almost caricature-like, only confirms that he knew. He knew that every word you said was true, and yet... 

“I thought it was the best decision at the time. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.”

Maybe he was right. That sort of reckless love, especially when not reciprocated in earnest could only result in pain. 

His intentions were good. They were good. That’s what matters.

He had a reason.

----

Hajime frowned at you, which in turn made his little princess, now perched on his hip frown as well. 

“Your mother’s not being very nice, now is she?” He murmured, as he approached, now settling her back in the chair across from you. “She didn’t even want to ski with me!”

His arms crossed over his chest as he stood beside you now, a pretend-grumpy look on his face.

Your four year-old gasped. “What?! Mommy’s mean? Are you a bully?”

“Hey!” You nudged Iwa in the ribs. “Don’t make me out to be the bad guy! I’m coming with you tomorrow!”

To this, your husband’s eyes lit up, and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, resting his chin on your head.

“You’d do that for me, my clumsy little penguin?” He whispered, just low enough that your little girl, who had now contented herself back to drinking her hot cocoa couldn’t hear.

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“If you keep making fun of me, you’ll be on your own again, and possibly so for the rest of this vacation,” you grumbled back, but he laughed in earnest to your threat, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek before dragging the nearest chair towards your table to complete your circle.

“So what do my favorite girls want for dinner?”

---

When Ushijima’s hands finally relax, and he places them clasped together on the table, you find yourself reaching for them. It’s no longer a natural, intrinsic movement of the arm and hand, the way it was years ago when you always yearned for physical contact. It’s now measured and intentional.

You squeeze his hands and they feel different. They’re larger, colder, rougher than Iwa’s are. It’s not a bad thing; just not the same. You can imagine that intertwining your fingers with his would feel imperfect, maybe even wrong.

You’ve changed. And he’s changed.

“Wakatoshi…”

You pause, and your hands linger. 

It’s hard to look in his eyes when you say this, but you do anyway. Their eyes are almost the same color, but Iwa’s are greener. An old idiom comes to mind and you banish it from your mind.

“You will always be my first love, but Hajime will be my last one.”

[firstofficerwiggles]

Chapter 2: Adventures in Space Babysitting

Link to Chpt. 1, Chpt. 3

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild swearing, sexual arousal, references to sexual relationships, canonical violence

Word Count:~5600

Summary: Caretaker reader is settling into her job and she realizes she has a crush on Mando. Some fluff, action, and little angst in this chapter.

Author’s Note: Welcome to Chpt. 2! I haven’t really written anything with angst before so I hope you think that part went okay. Thanks for reading!

The little green body launches itself up onto your bed yet again waking you in the early hours of the morning. The child snuggles up close to your chest and you can’t help but rub his little back with soothing motions. You have tried to get the child on a routine these past few weeks, and this seems to be the one pattern he’s most pleased to follow every day. The first time he showed up in your bed you thought Mando had placed him there as a subtle hint that it was your turn to be on child duty. However, when you heard Mando frantically looking for the toddler that first morning, you knew the little one had managed to sneak his way over to you all on his own. Neither you nor Mando know much about the child’s life before Mando rescued him, but it seems to you that it must have been difficult, because he appears to be starved for affection and he seeks it out every chance he gets. You’ve always been a cuddler yourself though so you are happy to oblige him and honestly although it means you don’t get to sleep as much as you used to, you love your early morning snuggles with him. Besides, it helps keep your mind off how much you’d like to snuggle Mando.

This silly crush on Mando has hit you out of nowhere and you feel like a complete fool for even acknowledging it. You suppose it can’t be helped to a certain extent, as he has to be hands down the nicest man in the entire galaxy, implausible as it may seem. He’s a gun-for-hire, rough and tough bounty hunter, covered in armor and weapons, and yet he has been nothing but thoughtful and respectful towards you. When you first spoke to him about establishing a better schedule for the child and working on some developmental milestones, he listened carefully and encouraged you to do what you felt was best. Other men you’ve known in the past would have questioned your recommendations or only half-listened to you dismissively. But Mando asked thoughtful questions that showed you he valued your opinions and then he was sure to comment on how well things were going after you began implementing the changes. You couldn’t remember the last time an employer gave you a compliment on your work, and it was just nice.

Then there was the first time he brought back a bounty to the ship. He’d been gone for about two days and when he returned, he was dragging a large alien man behind him. While you tried not to be overly curious, you couldn’t help but watch him as he manhandled the guy into the carbonite freezer. You were impressed with his strength, but it also made you feel a little bit wary as he next strode over towards you and the child. Your cautiousness melted away quickly though as Mando placed a bag of berries on the crate sitting next to you, mentioning that he noticed how much you seemed to enjoy them and thought you’d like to have some more. The thought of him noticing such a detail and then taking the time to stop and buy the berries for you made you want to swoon. You told yourself you were being ridiculous and that it was clearly just an overreaction to someone finally being nice to you.

The child is starting to get squirmy and you know that means he’ll be looking for breakfast soon. You listen carefully for Mando and realize that he must either be still asleep or up in the cockpit. Either way, you doubt he’s eaten any breakfast yet as he seems to prefer your cooking over his own. You toss back your covers and get yourself ready for the day. You decide to make eggs this morning, the little one’s favorite food that isn’t sugar-based. You are just finishing cutting up some fruit to go with the eggs, when you hear Mando’s boots behind you.

“MMM, smells good.” He says sounding still a bit sleepy. “I’m starving.”

You turn around with a plate all ready for him and a cup of caf, telling him “Lucky for you, I knew you would be.”

“Thank you, I don’t know how I survived without you,” Mando replies. Your heart sings at his words and you quickly turn back to the food so he can’t see the goofy smile breaking out on your face.

“Mostly on ration bars it seems.” You noticed he had quite the stash of them when you were first on board. Fortunately, you’ve convinced him to try to get a greater variety of food whenever possible.

“Well, my taste buds thank you too.” He carries his breakfast into his bunk where he can eat in privacy. At first, you felt sad for him always having to eat by himself, but you realize he must be so used to it that it probably doesn’t bother him. Nonetheless, it hasn’t stopped you from thinking up ideas for a shared meal sometime in the future, maybe when he knows you better and his trust in you is stronger.

After breakfast, you’re getting the child ready for a day out on the town. Mando is dropping off several bounties today which means you’ll be able to stretch your legs off the ship and visit the market in Batuu. As the ship lands, Mando is already back in the hull quickly reviewing all of the safety protocols for leaving the ship. He does this each time and at first it was rather annoying, it’s not like you’re an idiot, but then you realized he does it because he simply cares that much about the child’s and your wellbeing. While his protectiveness towards the child is completely logical, you still can’t get over how much it extends to you too. You’ve been responsible for yourself for so long; it never occurred to you that another adult would care so much about protecting you.

“Before I forget, I found a holster for you.” Mando is holding out a leather belt for you. “You shouldn’t keep the blaster in a bag; you can’t get to it fast enough.”

“Oh, thank you.” You say politely, although you’re hoping that just once he’ll fail to remind you to take the blaster along. You know he said you have to take it with you every time you leave the ship, but you still feel uncomfortable carrying it around. At least when you could shove it into your bag, you could pretend you didn’t have it, but now, it’ll be right there on your hip, much harder to ignore. Your fingers fumble with buckling the holster; knowing that he’s watching you intently makes you nervous. Mando steps closer to help you, softly brushing your hands away. Maker, he’s so close to you and each time his hands brush against your waist as he secures the holster you need to remind yourself to breathe.

“There you go.” Mando finishes but lets his hand linger for a moment on your hip. You feel his thumb brush back and forth just a bit before he sharply pulls away as if realizing what he was doing. You slip the blaster into the new holster, and he gives you a nod, “Looks good.”

You feel your face heat up as you realize he’s staring at your hips and you distract yourself by making sure the child is ready to go, “Ready to explore?” you ask him, and you hear a happy coo in response from the pram.

You follow Mando down the ramp of the ship, glad to be out in the fresh air and sunshine. Shopping for supplies never seemed like anything interesting in the past, but now that you get to visit different markets on new worlds you’ve never seen before, each little shopping trip feels like a new experience. The colorful stalls filled with all types of wares beckon you to explore and discover some exotic fruit or an old book that you might never see anywhere else.

Oh, speaking of books, “I thought I might try to find a few children’s books for the child, if that’s ok?” you ask Mando.

“Are you trying to teach him to read? Is he ready for that?” Mando sounds curious, but not skeptical in any way.

“No, not yet, but I know he likes hearing stories,” you explain, “and I’m not sure how much more I can keep inventing ones to tell him.”

“Have you just been making those stories up yourself?” He nods in approval, seemingly impressed. “You have a good imagination.”

“Oh, um, thank you.” You’re caught off guard there for a moment, as you hadn’t realized he’d paid much attention to the stories you tell the little one.

“Yeah, I liked the one you told him about the magic frog. It was funny.” He surprises you again. Not only was he listening, he remembers the silly story you made up, and he liked it.

“Thanks,” you say again, stunned by his comment, but it’s his next suggestion that totally floors you.

“You should write them down, make your own book.”

“Make my own book?” The idea would never have occurred to you.

“Why not? Maybe you can even get the kid to draw pictures for it. You can get him some coloring pencils too.” Mando turns and hands you some extra credits. “I need to take care of some business, now, but you two will be safe here. Meet me by the fountain in 30 minutes. Do not be late.” He punctuates that last statement with a point of his index finger and then turns to go.

You watch him head towards a cantina and then just stare down at the credits in your palm. How is he so nice but then also kind of scary? And why does it make you ‘feel’ things? You shake your head at your own silliness and then look down at the little guy and say, “Well, let’s go find you something to color with.”

Perusing the stalls, you find plenty of items to fill up your bags and empty your wallet. You discover a great notebook with plenty of space for writing and pictures. The more you think of the idea of creating your own little book with the child, the more excited you get. You find a few children’s books too, so that you can be sure to keep the little one entertained when he’s tired of drawing. Cognizant of the time, you start to head to the fountain in the center of the market, Mando’s designated meeting spot, when you smell a delectable aroma. The baby smells it too and immediately begins whining and reaching out his little hands. You head to the source of the scent to see several types of kebabs at a nearby stand. You still have some credits and are preparing to order but the little one is too impatient and before you know it, two kebabs are floating to the pram.

“Hey! You have to pay for those!” The man behind the stand yells at you.

“I was; I mean I am,” you quickly tell him, “I’m sorry, he’s just so sneaky and fast sometimes.” You offer him a smile, hoping to smooth things over. What’s more, you pray the man thinks the child just grabbed the food and that he didn’t notice anything magical about it. “How much are they?”

The man looks you over for a moment and then his demeanor changes, “Well, for you, mama, I’m sure we can work out a little deal.” He leers at you.

“That’s ok,” you say uncomfortable at the look in his eye, and you let your smile drop from your face, “I’ll just pay the regular price.”

“Ah, c’mon, there’s nothing like a little discount among friends.” He steps out from behind his stall to stand right in front of you. He reaches out and brushes a hand down your arm, “You’d like to be my friend, wouldn’t you?”

You take a step back and say, “I’d just like to pay you for the food.”

“We can call it even, if you give me a little kiss.” This gross creep moves closer to you again, this time leaning down.

“I have credits.” You tell him, attempting to sound firm while you start to step back again, but he anticipates your move and reaches out to grab your wrist pulling you up against his body. You push on his chest, trying to pull away when you hear the sound of a blaster priming and then a raspy modulated voice says, “Let her go.”

The man drops your arm instantly and you can finally back away from him. You’re very grateful to see Mando with his weapon pointed directly at the man’s head. The man holds his hands up, “We were just having a friendly little chat.”

“Didn’t look friendly to me.” Mando deadpans, but he holsters his blaster now that it’s clear you’re safe. He comes over to you, placing a hand on the small of your back and turns you to walk away with him.

“Hey! She still needs to pay me for the food,” the man protests.

“What did he want for the food?” Mando asks you.

“A kiss,” you reply sardonically.

Mando shrugs, then turns back to the stall, approaches the man quickly and then just head-butts him hard with his helmet. The creep lets out a loud yell of pain and collapses to the ground.

“There you go, a kiss from a Mandalorian.” Mando drawls, before turning and striding back over to you.

Oh damn! That was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and you feel your body flood with desire. Ok, so maybe that was a blatant show of male posturing, and as an educated, modern woman, you probably shouldn’t be so aroused right now. But some primeval part of your brain has taken over, and the only thought you have is how great a protector Mando is and how much you want him to protect you. You can’t even say anything to him right now because you’re just replaying the moment over in your head. It isn’t until you realize that Mando is saying your name, repeating it, that you finally snap back to reality and remember to thank him.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Mando is saying, “Are you ok?” He asks you slowly to make sure you’ve understood him. It’s possible he’s already asked you that but you were too swept up in your cavewoman thoughts.

“Oh, yes, yes, I’m fine,” you reassure him, “That creep just made me uncomfortable, but he didn’t hurt me. But, thank you again.”

“You’re sure?” Mando asks, a bit doubtful. What are you supposed to tell him? That your dazed look is because you’re turned on by him right now. Super inappropriate, having a major crush on your boss! You take a deep breath and remind yourself yet again that Mando is your employer.

“Really, I’m fine, thank you.” You’re pleased that you managed to get that out in a normal sounding voice. Mando considers you for a moment.

“Why didn’t you pull your blaster on him?” He wants to know.

“I don’t know,” you tell him truthfully, “I guess I’m just not used to reacting that way.”

“Hmm, we’ll need to work on that.” He seems satisfied at that and starts walking back towards the Crest. You force your feet to follow him, telling yourself to pull it together.

“Is that really considered a kiss from a Mandalorian?” You can’t help your stupid mouth from blurting out your question.

He laughs, surprising you because it’s the first time you’ve heard it. “Technically, yes, we call it a Keldabe Kiss.” He chuckles again and then says, “But there is a much softer version too between lovers.”

Ok, you almost become a puddle hearing him say the word ‘lovers’, and thankfully he’s still amused by your question that he doesn’t seem to notice your mouth dropping open and your feet stumbling a little. Instead, all he says is “Let’s get back to the ship, kid’s got the right idea, I could use something to eat.”

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

Later, Mando powers up the engines and you figure you’re off to the next planet, but instead he keeps the ship in the atmosphere, taking you away from the town. He lands in a clearing near a forest, and says, “This will be a good spot to practice.”

“Practice?” You’re confused.

“Yeah, I told you we’re going to work on your reaction to threats.” He says this in a matter-of-fact voice, “Plus, I know you said you could shoot, but I want to see how you handle that blaster.”

Sighing internally, you put the holster back on and collect the blaster from the weapons locker before following him down the ramp. The baby toddles down the ramp too, curious to see what’s happening.

“Alright, Miss Top-Marks-in-Shooting, let’s see you hit that tree.” Mando’s tone is rather chipper as he points out a large tree directly across from where you’re both standing. It’s a very easy target; he must think you exaggerated your skills.

You draw the weapon smoothly and shoot, just as you were trained to do, hitting the tree with ease. You fire four shoots in a small cluster pattern, to show that you are capable of accuracy.

Mando nods his head once, “Ok, now hit those five trees in rapid succession.” He points to a line of smaller trees further away to your left. You turn and successfully hit all five in what you consider to be a decent pace.

“Not bad, but see if you can go faster.” He instructs you. You try again, hopefully quicker this time. He nods when you look back at him and then points out a new target. You both keep repeating this pattern and he offers some critiques as you shoot, but generally, he seems satisfied.

“You did well,” Mando tells you after a bit, “You ever hit a moving target?”

“Uh, no.” You look at him cautiously, wondering what he has in mind. Your eyes must show how anxious that makes you, because he says, “We’ll work on that another time.”

You can’t help but let out a small sigh of relief. You figure practice time must be over for now, but then he says, “Let’s work on that reaction time for when someone is in your face. Just let me tell the kid first.”

Mando walks over to the little one who has been sitting on the ramp watching you shoot. “Ok, kiddo, this is just pretend. You understand? No one will get hurt, so no powers, ok?” The baby coos up at him and Mando nods.

“Gotta make sure he doesn’t try to fling one of us into a tree.” He says to your bemused expression. Mando returns to face you and steps close until he’s practically touching you. Your heartrate immediately picks up and your body starts to feel hot.

“I want you to draw your weapon on me, but do not shoot me,” he says definitively.

“What? No, I can’t do that, Mando,” you tell him in protest.

He reaches out lightning fast, grabs your wrist, and hauls you up against him in a similar manner to the jerk in the marketplace. Your positioning might be the same, yet this time you don’t feel creeped out, no, instead you like it, your traitorous body even pushes you a little closer to him.

“Draw your weapon on me. I’m a threat to you.” Mando tells you in a gravelly voice. Stars above! You have to bite your lip hard to keep from moaning. What is wrong with me? You realize he’s not going to let you go until you draw the blaster and so you finally comply with his order.

Mando releases you with small chuckle, as he says, “Ok, let’s try that again only not in slow motion.”

“Wait, wait, I’m not ready.” You’re panting like you just ran a race.

“That’s the whole point,” he replies, “Threats don’t just wait until you’re ready to shoot them.” You could swear he’s smirking at you under that helmet.

“No, I mean, give me a second to imagine I’m being threatened,” you are trying to buy yourself time before he decides to touch you again. “I need to visualize it.”

“Are you saying I’m not threatening enough?” Mando sounds skeptical and maybe a little insulted.

“No, I mean, of course, you are, you’re very threatening and wanted men everywhere should fear you, but I don’t fear you because I know you’ll never hurt me,” you explain to him in attempt to cover up the fact that you’re so damn attracted to him right now.

“You’re right; I would never do anything to hurt you.” He nods in agreement. “But wanted men everywhere should fear me, huh?” He sounds amused by that.

“Yes, yes, you’re very scary.” You tell him, rolling your eyes slightly.

“Ok, so pretend I’m someone you do fear.” He advances toward you. This time you think of Lieutenant Sauckel, an odious man from Imperial Intelligence that you despised. When Mando grabs you again, you imagine Sauckel’s black eyes and yellow teeth and draw your blaster as Mando pulls you to his chest.

“That was better, but still too slow.” He makes you try over and over, and each time you picture another terrible Imperial officer, Commander Brack, Major Frick, Junior Lieutenant Hess, and then finally Ensign Kerrick Hoven, the man who broke your heart and betrayed you. Imagining Kerrick’s smug face appears to do the trick, because it’s the fastest you’ve drawn the blaster yet, and you manage to wrench your arm away from Mando for the first time.

“Good!” Mando praises you enthusiastically, “That was really good.”

“Thanks.” You’re pleased to hear his words of encouragement, but your voice doesn’t show it. Picturing Kerrick again is enough to send you into darker emotions and you feel anger and sadness swirl in your stomach. Your face must give away your unhappy thoughts, because Mando suggests you stop for the day.

You stow your blaster in the holster and then head over to the child who’s been thoroughly entertained watching you both pretend fight. You reach down to pick him up and hold him close to your chest in a hug. There’s just something about his sweet little presence that makes you feel better. You’re smiling again when you pull away and head back into the ship. Mando follows you up the ramp and he’s quiet but you can feel him watching you as you stow the blaster in the weapons locker and remove the holster from your waist.

“Everything alright?” He asks you.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. I-, Thank you for taking the time to work with me on that. To practice, I mean. I know you’re very busy.” It really does mean a lot to you that he took time out of his schedule for you and you feel your heart swell as you think about his protective nature.

“You’re welcome,” he says, his voice a little softer, “Your safety is important to me. Plus, you need to be able to help keep the child safe too.”

“Yes, of course,” you nod in agreement.

“It’s helpful that you’re a good shot.” He praises you again, and this time you smile at his words.

“Thank you,” you reply sincerely. While you haven’t seen him shoot, you know he’s clearly an expert and it really does mean a lot to hear him praise your skill.

You turn back to the child, “I think it’s playtime now, what do you say, buddy?” He chirps in agreement and you head over to his small stash of toys and place him on the floor so he can start pulling out his favorites. Before you clamber down to join him, you feel Mando’s hand cup your arm just above the elbow. You turn back towards him with an inquisitive look. He just seems to stare at you for a moment, still holding your arm before telling you, “I’ll going to get us on our way to the next planet.”

“Ok, we’ll be alright down here. I’ll bring you up some dinner later.” You give him another smile and a quick nod.

“Good,” is all that he says and then he gives your arm a little squeeze before heading to the cockpit and you can’t help but feel a little fluttering in your stomach at that touch.

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

The rest of your afternoon passes swiftly as you and the child take his plushies on a heroic quest across the metal wonderland (the hull) to the black cliffs of mystery (a stack of crates) where you must find the golden treasure (a box of cookies). It’s a much more enjoyable game of pretend seeing as you’re not imagining Imps threatening you. It puts you in a cheerful mood and you’re still grinning to yourself when you bring Mando his dinner tray. You feel a pang of regret for him that he’s missed out on the fun afternoon with you and the child and it’s compounded by the thought of him eating his dinner alone too.

“Mando?”

“Yeah?”

You want to ask if there’s any way you could keep him company while he eats, promising to face away from him the entire time, but it feels too pushy to ask him for that. Besides, you’re probably just projecting your own feelings onto him. He’s likely much more comfortable knowing that you and the child are safely shut away from him downstairs and there’s no way he can break his creed while he eats. So, you just tell him, “I hope you enjoy your food.”

When you head back downstairs, you’re mentally kicking yourself for getting too attached. Your job is to take care of the child and make sure his needs are met. It’s nice of you to take care of Mando a little too, but he doesn’t need you to keep him company or worry about him being lonely. I’m being pathetic. You turn your attention back to your little green charge and decide it’s time to give him a bath and get him ready for bed. Still though as much as you try, you can’t stop your thoughts from wondering back to Mando. It’s hard to forget what it felt like pulled up against his chest while you were practicing your self-defense. And you may have replayed the whole head-butt scene in your head a dozen times. Stars! Am I really so desperate that I’m falling for the first man who’s nice to me? You try again to push images of Mando out of your head and focus on the baby. It works until he’s sound asleep in his little hammock and you don’t have a distraction any more. Maybe you can just grab your holopad and read up in the cockpit. That way you can satisfy your need to be close to Mando but also keep from bothering him. You make your way up the ladder, making sure it’s ok to enter the cockpit in case he still has the helmet off, before flopping down in the passenger seat on Mando’s right. You sit there and fiddle with the holopad trying to find a story that will entice you enough to keep your eyes on it, instead of tossing glances at the armored man sitting next to you. Turns out it doesn’t matter though because Mando feels like chatting.

“Kid get to sleep ok?” he asks you.

“Yes, he was pretty sleepy after his bath,” you reply.

“Probably tired after that epic adventure you went on too,” he huffs out a laugh, “I heard you doing all the voices for the toys.”

“Oh, yeah,” you’re a little embarrassed by that as you know you can be pretty goofy when you’re pretending with the child, “He really seems to like it though.”

“Sure he does, I could hear him giggling too.” Mando confirms for you. “I’m glad he’s having this time to be a child. I don’t know much about his past, but I don’t think he’s had a lot of fun in his life.”

“Well, I’ll try to make sure he does something fun every day.” You already love the little one so much, anything you can do to make him happy brings you joy too.

“Who were you picturing when we were practicing your reaction time?” Mando changes the subject abruptly.

You take a moment to process his question, and then tell him, “Just some Imperial officers from my past.” You shrug, “I figured that would be good motivation to draw a blaster.”

He seems to consider you for a moment, and then asks, “What about the last time? Who was that?”

“Oh,” you try to let out a little laugh to ease the discomfort welling up in you, “That was the man who broke my heart.”

“An Imperial officer?” Mando sounds surprised at that.

“He wasn’t an Imperial officer when I first knew him. He was in the graduating class before mine. We dated when we were in school together and we stayed in contact after he graduated. He’s the one who convinced me to do the exams for the ‘research group’.” You make quotation marks with your hands when you say those last two words.

“He mislead you?” Mando asks.

“No, he didn’t know what it really was then either. He had only just heard about it and was trying to get a job there and convinced me that it would be great for the two of us to work together.” You pause there not sure if you really want to keep telling Mando this story.

He’s curious though, as he asks, “What happened when you both found out you were working for Imp Intelligence?”

“We were both shocked and we turned to each other for comfort. It was intense, because I still had old feelings for him, and at the time, I believed he was the only one who understood how I had been deceived because he was right there with me. For a while, it felt tragically romantic, like we were two people clinging to each other in the midst of a terrible situation.”

“So, how did he break your heart?” Mando questions softly.

“I didn’t realize how one-sided our love affair had become. I thought he shared my horror for the Empire and their actions, but little did I know, he was buying into the Empire’s message more each day. As I was trying to disrupt the intelligence, Kerrick was weaseling his way closer to the officers, trying to spend time with them or impress them with his work. They awarded him the rank of Ensign when he turned me in for sabotage.” You can’t help the tear that manages to sneak out and slide down your cheek. You look out to the stars as they swirl by you in hyperspace.

“What was his name? His full name?” Mando asks.

“Kerrick Hoven, why?”

He ignores the question and asks, “Is he still alive?”

“As far as I know, yes.” You’re not sure why that matters to him.

Mando just makes a little hmm noise and then says, “No wonder you drew your blaster so quickly.”

“Well, that’s my sad story of heartbreak. How about you, Mando? You have a heartbreak story of your own?” Now that you’ve bared your sad past to him, you’re curious to hear about his.

“No.” Is all that he says.

“No? Nothing?” You push back a little; he must have something to share.

“Not really. Never get too attached or involved with a woman.” He punctuates this with a shrug.

“What about when you were a bit younger? No love affairs?” You can’t stop yourself from being curious about his romantic past; you just want to know a little something about it.

“I’ve had lovers, but nothing long-term or serious.” he states, “Relationships don’t really go with being a bounty hunter.” He sounds rather blasé about his love life or lack of one, as if he doesn’t spend any time thinking about it at all.

You feel your heart drop at that and all of your fantasies about the two of you being together someday seem exceedingly ridiculous right now. Of course he isn’t a man who gets into relationships, and if you became his lover, it would probably be a short-lived fling that would burn itself out once the novelty of new passion was gone. You feel foolish and tired. The fun of hearing about Mando’s love life has dissipated completely for you. So you change the topic and ask, “Where are we headed to next?”

“Bespin” Mando says. “It’s a mining planet with a city high up in the clouds in the upper atmosphere.”

You listen politely as he tells you some other facts about the planet. It sounds interesting enough, but you’re not really paying that close attention as you’re still somewhat wrapped up in your emotional reaction to his dismissal of relationships. You take a deep breath to center your thoughts and then focus in on his words, telling yourself that this is for the best, that you need to let your stupid crush die and just do your job. If you can’t do that, you’ll just set yourself up for another heartbreak, and what will that get you?

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Thank you for reading! Link to Chapter 3, Lust Actually. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

Tag list: @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11​ @theravenreads​ @nicotinebirds​ @boomtownboy​ @nova646 @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative

[jalapeno-princess]

Body Language

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: The most adorable fluff I have ever written with some first time sex (the smut in here is so vanilla and soft and terrible but I don’t even care at this point lol)

Word Count: 14.5K

Summary: You and your boyfriend Mark had plans to go out on a date until the two of you find out that it is expected to rain for the rest of the night. What starts off as a romantic night in turns in to finally becoming one with the love of your life.

Warnings: Oral (male and female receiving), fingering, breast play

A/N: Hey guys! If I am being completely honest, this is one of my favorite stories I’ve ever written because Mark is such a soft, fluffy and doting boyfriend in here (and I feel with my entire ass that he is like this in real life) and I don’t know but I just find it so cute when boyfriends are considerate of their partner’s desires to wait for sex (it’s rare but if a man really loves you he will wait for however long you need him to)(it’s even more rare when he puts your pleasure before his own but there are men out there and I still have yet to find one like that but one day)(@God...When?) by the way, this is based on the song “Teach me how to love” by Shawn Mendes, I highly recommend that you listen to the song before or while reading this so it makes more sense. Happy reading!

Ooh, your body's like an ocean I'm devoted To explore you Ooh, what do you desire? I'm inspired I'll do it for you

Won't you draw a map for me? Laced with strawberries And I'll get on my knees Put my hands around you Ooh, teach me how to Touch you, tease, caress you, and please you Teach me how to love Put my hands around you Ooh, teach me how to Touch you, tease, caress you, and please you Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love

“Thank you for tuning in to Good Evening Los Angeles. Make sure to stay indoors tonight for there is a 80% chance of rainfall with winds up to 25 miles per hour. We’re also expecting a thunderstorm on Wednesday with winds between 30 to 35 miles per hour—“ 

Mark released an exasperated sigh once he heard the weather forecast and was quick to change the channel in disappointment. 

“Well, I guess there goes our plans for tonight. We haven’t gone out on a date in almost an entire month because we’re both so busy, I really wanted to take you to that new sushi restaurant but I guess it’s just going to have to wait.” 

You giggled softly at his now upset demeanor and took this time to snuggle up closer to his body if it was even physically possible. Your bodies were practically glued together to the point where you could feel his heart beat against your chest. 

His arms were wrapped protectively around your waist as he was propped up against his headboard with you lying on top of him, legs on either side of his lap—hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Right after you returned home from work a little over two hours ago, Mark suggested that you took a quick nap to regain some energy before you both went out to dinner later that night. 

For the last week and a half, he’s been planning to take you out on a date and claimed that there was something he had to tell you. Being the impatient person that you were on top of overthinking quite often, you begged him to confess what was weighing heavy on his mind, but he would always try to change the subject and told you not to worry about it. 

As much as you were dying to know what he was hiding from you, you knew Mark like the back of your hand—if it was something bad, he would have told you already so you just had to accept that he was going to tell you on his own time; even if it meant having to wait another week until the both of you could go out on a date again. 

He was quick to give you one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants to change in to—this was a regular occurrence. For the last six months of your relationship, the two of you spent quite a lot of time at each other’s places. A lot of your stuff was scattered throughout his apartment; he purchased both your shampoo and conditioner, body wash, a toothbrush and some other beauty products that were currently sitting on the bathroom counter—your side to be exact. 

There were a few of your clothes in his closet, but you never got around to using them. Whenever you would sleep over, he’d lend you some of his clothes because he claimed almost every item he owned looked amazing on you. You had a few of your work sandals and flats on his shoe rack, some of your vitamins and medication on his kitchen counter and he even purchased Disney+ because you were such a fan of Disney movies. 

Your place mirrored his; he had set up an Xbox in your living room to play with when he did come over, he had some of his clothes in your closet and in your drawers; some that he left there and some you would secretly take over time. He left a few of his rings and a necklace his parents gave to him on your dresser and he’d even bring his briefcase over if he had plans on staying the night. 

Sometimes, your mutual friends would hint towards the two of you moving in together since technically, you already did. However, Mark never really said anything about it and you just assumed that he believed it was still too early in your relationship to move in together. 

You thought about it every now and then; you wouldn’t mind going to bed wrapped tightly in his warm, protective embrace and getting to wake up next to him in all his handsome glory every single day. Any moment spent with your boyfriend made you always feel so happy; Mark had to be one of the best things in your life at the moment. 

Your heart craved his presence all the time—even when the two of you had a small argument or disagreement which never happened all too often. Whenever the two of you couldn’t hang out and spend time together—if your schedules collided or if either of you went home to visit your families, your chest would always feel so empty. 

Mark Tuan is where you held your heart; the both of you might not have been together for all that long just yet, but you felt and believed wholeheartedly that he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. You could only hope he felt the same way about you because you honestly didn’t know what you would do if you were to lose him. Mark in more or less words was your soulmate—your best friend. 

From the time you were a little girl, you were such a hopeless romantic. You were in love with the idea of love and being in love and it wasn’t until Mark came in to your life did you realize how beautiful the concept of love really was. He’s opened your eyes to so many different things; he’s brought in so much life and color in to your dull and seemingly black and white world. You placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth—trying to take his mind off of the unfortunate weather situation and thankfully, it worked. 

He smiled against your lips, humming gently and deepening the kiss as he brought his fingers in to your shirt and grazed them just above your belly button. 

“That’s fine baby, we can just stay in tonight. If I’m being honest, I didn’t really feel like getting ready or dressing up. I just want to be lazy. We can order some take out and watch another movie if that’s okay with you.” 

He was silent for a few seconds, as if he was considering your suggestion to follow what the weather reporter said and stay inside for the night. He nodded in agreement before placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. 

“That sounds like a plan. I don’t care where we are or what we end up doing, I just want to be with you.” You playfully flicked his forehead and giggled at his look of confusion. 

“You’re such a cheeseball Mark. Don’t say things like that, you don’t understand what your words do to my heart. What do you feel like eating tonight?” 

You repositioned your body and sat right on top of his lap so that he could look at your phone while you scrolled through the many take out options that California had to offer. He placed his chin on your shoulder; watching as you searched up restaurants and fast food joints near his apartment. Feeling his breath against your neck sent a tingling sensation to your chest; it wasn’t like you weren’t used to the proximity. 

You and Mark clung to one another like sloths. If you were cooking, washing the dishes or doing laundry, he’d always take his place behind you and allowed you to do your thing, but he had to be holding you at all times. He confessed that he just loved the feeling of having you near; your presence always calmed him down and made him feel at ease. 

However, he seemed to be quite touchy tonight in particular, not that you were complaining. His hands were lingering in foreign places; the two of you had yet to become one in that sense. Since Mark was your first genuine boyfriend, you had yet to give yourself to anyone. 

It wasn’t as though you were waiting for marriage or anything, but you were the type of person who believed that sex was a spiritual, sensual and memorable experience as much as it was sexual. You wanted to save your virginity for someone you knew would love you and cherish you for your entire being; not just your body. 

Sex to some people was a way to receive pleasure and to soothe their carnal urges—but you believed that it was so much more than reaching an orgasm. You wanted to trust the person you decided to give your body to and you were more than grateful that Mark was so patient, considerate and understanding of your feelings. 

Not once did he ever ask you to go that far with him; he made it known that he wanted to take your relationship at the pace that you were most comfortable with. Although you were sure it had to be hard for him to stay abstinent, especially because it was scientifically proven that men had their needs and desired sex more than women did; he continued to be such a gentleman and allowed you to determine when you were ready to give yourself to him. 

It didn’t take you long to realize that you were in love with your boyfriend; actually, you noticed that your feelings for Mark went further than just infatuation around the beginning of the second month. The two of you had yet to say that four letter word though; it almost slipped from your lips a couple of times, but you were afraid of rejection if you were to tell him only to find out that he didn’t reciprocate your fame feelings.

As the days went by, you were soon losing your resolve. Seeing him shirtless almost every day, kissing him passionately and making out with him fervently, having him drag his fingers along your bare skin—each and every touch drove you closer to your end. You knew you’d have to have him one of these days; and with the way you’d feel him harden up against your butt or your thigh as the two of you would cuddle or the way his jaw would drop and clench when he’d see you in a body hugging dress or even in one of his baggy shirts, you knew he was just as on the brink of insanity as you were. 

“Hmm, pizza sounds good—“

“We always get pizza—“

“Well, that’s because I love pizza. Almost as much as I love y—yogurt. Uh—fine, we can get whatever it is that you want. How about you decide what we eat and I’ll pick out a movie for us?” 

You could feel your heart rate increase immensely as you heard the l word fall from his lips—but your stomach sank when he caught himself. Was he going to finally confess what you’ve been dreaming of him to say since the day you realized you felt that way toward him? Did he really love yogurt? Or did he catch himself about to say the only thing that the two of you have been prolonging on getting around to and try to redirect the entire conversation so that maybe you could forget about it?

Luckily you weren’t facing him or else he’d be able to see the frown that quickly rose on your face. You continued to look at different menus for a few more minutes as he pulled up Netflix and began to scan through the many different shows and movies there were. 

“Oooh, what about Thai food? It’s been a while since we’ve had pad Thai. We can share multiple entrees if you want?” You felt him hum against your shoulder blade and you took that as a yes before calling in your order. 

“Should we wait for the food before putting on a movie? Or shall we watch a tv show for now and just wait for it to arrive?” 

“I’m fine with waiting, there’s a new episode of buzzfeed unsolved that I’ve been wanting to watch. Is that okay with you?” He placed a kiss on the back of your neck and began to graze both of his thumbs on your hip bones. 

“I like the sound of that. I’m glad you waited for me—you always have a habit of being impatient and watching without me—ow, what was that for? You know it’s true y/n. You finished an entire season of The Office while I was in Taiwan.” 

He rubbed the left side of his abdomen where you had hit him and playfully pinched your cheek. Your mind wandered back to that day three months ago; his entire family went to China in order to attend his cousin’s wedding and it was the first time the two of you went over a week without seeing each other physically. He called you whenever he had the chance and tried to send you as many photos of his trip as the terrible service in Taiwan allowed him to. 

In order to take your mind off of his absence, you sneakily watched some episodes of your favorite show even after promising to wait for him to come back. You tried to watch other series, but nothing really entertained you like the cast of the office did. Mark was pretty upset when he found out—you forgot that Netflix showed you where you last left off and it was on an episode he had yet to see. 

Hell, he had multiple episodes to finish of the previous season to even start on the one you currently were watching. He gave you the silent treatment for two days; although, he still continued to take care of you silently—but he willingly gave in on the third day after you cooked him some of his favorite meals to get him to forgive you. He also claimed that he couldn’t stay mad at you for much longer and he could tell you learned your lesson by how apologetic you were in order to get him to start talking to you again. 

From that day on, he made you promise him that you wouldn’t watch anything without him and the entire memory made you snicker. Mark was twenty-seven years old, yet he still acted like a child. Even his laugh was that of a little kid; you didn’t think it was possible for a man his age to have such an adorable, contagious and high pitched laugh that never failed to send warmth to your cheeks every time you were the cause of it. 

His laughter and child-like mindset were only two of the many things you appreciated about your boyfriend. He was like a breath of fresh air—he never took life too seriously as most of the people around you did. He kept you sane in a world where everyone was seemingly crazy because of how hectic the real world could get. Both his and your laughter filled the room as Steve Carrell’s character was freaking out about something and soon, there was a knock at the door which you assumed was the delivery guy. 

“I’ll be right back babe.” 

He gently lifted you off of his lap in order for him to get up and stole a chaste kiss from your lips while making his way to the front door. You decided to grab some napkins and chopsticks from the kitchen and waited for him to head back to his room. 

“Shit, how much did we order, this bag is heavy as hell.” 

You couldn’t help but stifle back a laugh and led the way back to his room. He placed the food down on the bed and you began to distribute food on both your plates—all the while thanking him for buying the food. To say Mark was generous was an understatement. 

He loved buying things for you no matter how many times you’d tell him to save his money for things he’d actually need. Sometimes, the two of you would fight over who was going to pay; most of the time, he would give his card—whether it was at a restaurant, while you’d go grocery shopping together; if you went to watch a movie or went to the arcade, if you went shopping for new clothes or just random trinkets he’d see that he thought you’d like, he’d purchase it in a heartbeat. 

Mark just really enjoyed seeing a smile on your face and he would do whatever he could just to make you happy. You tried to tell him time and time again that you weren’t a materialistic person, truthfully—he could write you a heartfelt letter or give you a ring pop and you would probably cry.  But he’d never listen and you just got used to his generosity over time; it just showed you how much you meant to him and knowing that alone did wonders to your heart. 

Even if you had given him his own share of what you ordered, he’d playfully steal some food off of your plate just to rile you up. Mark was well aware of how protective you could be when it came to your food. There were times when you felt like sharing with him, but that was only if you both got different meals and he wanted to try yours or if you so happened to be eating and felt bad that he didn’t have any food. 

He did feed you to make up for his many bits of teasing and you could feel your heart flutter every time he brought the chopstick full of noodles up to your mouth. When you were both done and full beyond belief, he took the empty bag and went to go throw it away while you prepared the area for you to both get comfortable in. 

Once he was finished putting away the left overs and taking out the trash, he made a beeline to where you were and flung himself on top of you; earning himself a loud groan and a punch to the shoulder. He was quick to pull you back in to the previous position; allowing you to sit in between his legs while he intertwined one of your hands with his and placed his free one on top of your lap. 

“I was thinking we could watch that Ted Bundy movie since you were interested about his case back when they did an unsolved mystery about it.” 

Mark was always great at observing people; since he was more on the introverted and soft spoken side, he was more of a listener than he was a talker. For the last month, you’ve taken an interest in murder mysteries and solving crimes. 

You had the adorable tendency to repeatedly tell Mark your theories or who you suspected the killer was while you watched these shows and your excitement never failed to bring your boyfriend so much satisfaction himself. For some reason, you were beginning to feel warmth in your chest—it wasn’t the kind that you’d always seem to get whenever Mark would compliment you or did something to make your heart flutter. This was a feeling you couldn’t fathom in to words—it was one you weren’t familiar with, but it did feel good. 

Really good. 

Maybe it was just because hearing him point out such a small detail that he remembered set it in stone that he really did care about you. God, what did you do to deserve such a wonderful human being to call your boyfriend? What war did you lead in your past life to be the lucky girl who was able to love Mark Tuan? For the first hour of the movie, you found yourself unable to take your eyes off of the screen—it was just so addicting. 

Not only was the acting really good from both the main characters, but the storyline and the suspense was too interesting to pull your attention away from. Mark had to cover your mouth with his hand because you were unable to stop talking about how stupid the justice system were to believe Ted’s lies in the first place and that if you were a detective at the time, you would have seen through his act from the beginning. 

“He’s not even that good looking, why would these girls fall for him?” 

He snickered against your neck at your enthusiasm; you would always be very verbal when it came to movies like this. Movies where you would put yourself in the shoes of one of the characters and explain in to detail to your boyfriend how you would have went about the entire situation. 

Unfortunately, you failed to notice the warning at the beginning; you were too excited with the idea of how the director and all the screenwriters came up with the movie in it’s entirety to read that there was explicit sexual content in the film. When Zac Efron and one of his love interests began to have sex up against a vending machine, you were unprepared to say the least for what was coming. 

The female’s moans were extremely loud and Zac’s thrusts were rough; the two of them were practically shaking the vending machine and you were feeling flustered at the sight and the noise. Especially because you were watching such a graphic scene with your boyfriend who you had yet to have sexual intercourse with. If you and Mark were to have had sex already, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt so awkward watching other people having sex. But because you had yet to participate in that activity, it just felt so weird. 

Mark began to tense up against your body and before you knew it, there was something hard pressing up against your ass. You weren’t stupid, you could tell that this scene was having an effect on your boyfriend as much as it was on you. There was a tingling sensation between your thighs; you’ve felt it a couple of times before, but now that you were watching a sex scene and found yourself growing hot at every thrust and curse of how good it felt, you had a huge feeling you were turned on—but it wasn’t because of the two people fucking, it’s because of the beautiful boy whose embrace you were currently in. 

To your dismay, the scene seemed as if it was going on for hours—it’s as though you were now watching a porno and you honestly didn’t know how to feel about it. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell by his now clammy hands and the way he was slowly retracting himself away from you, that Mark was having a hard time watching—especially because he probably wanted to be doing the same thing they were and you couldn’t blame him, you wanted it too. 

“Babe, I um—I’ll be right back. I have to uh—use the bathroom—y/n, what are you—holy shit—“ 

Whether it was because you were exceedingly horny at this point and wanted to give in to finally experience what so many people referred to as their favorite past times, or because seeing the woman on screen beg Zac to fuck her harder made you want to feel exactly what it was that drove her to the point of cursing and begging for him to go faster. You also wanted to use this as your way to nonverbally confess your love to him. 

You were a coward; there was no way you’d be able to tell him that four letter word without knowing that he felt the same exact way, so you were going to wait for as long as you had to. Surprising both yourself and your boyfriend, you brought your hands down to his clothed erection and began to palm him through his sweats. 

He was hard as a rock; just feeling him made your breath hitch. You had no idea what you were doing, this was another reason why you’ve tried so long to prolong having sex with him; you knew he had previous girlfriends and although he never talked much about that part of his past life, you were sure he must have had a few one night stands and you were afraid that you wouldn’t be able to give him the pleasure he desired—the pleasure he deserved. 

However, watching his head tilt back as you shoved your hand in to his pants in order to actually feel him without the restraints of his clothing, you had a huge feeling you were doing something right. 

“B—babe, baby—fuck, just like that y/n. That feels so good. Ahhh—“ 

You pulled down his sweats to give yourself better access to his lower region and did him a favor by pulling him out of his briefs. The sight of his cock standing right at attention; the tip red and leaking precum made your mouth water. You’ve never watched porn before and the closest you got to seeing Mark naked was when he’d come outside in just a towel right after he would take a shower—so this was the first time you’ve ever seen a penis. Well, other than what your high school health teacher showed in class.

From what your friends would tell you, penises were ugly. But then again, genitalia in general was not the prettiest sight. Maybe you were being biased because he was your boyfriend, but his cock was very pretty. Was that even possible? You had no clue at all, but what you did know was that you wanted to feel him inside of your mouth and inside of your pussy. 

“Mark.”

He was quick to look down at you and with the way he was gazing at you; with so much adoration, yet lust in his eyes, you knew that tonight was going to be the night you gave yourself to him. You couldn’t wait anymore; you needed him. 

“Yeah?”

You took in a deep breath; suddenly nerves began to build up and you had a hard time understanding why, but you found yourself fondling his balls against the thin cotton material. 

“I’m ready. I want you. I want all of you Mark. I need you—I trust you. I’m all yours if you’ll have me baby.” 

He was at a loss for words; were you really telling him that you wanted to finally have sex with him? You giggled softly at his blank expression; he must have had been processing what you just told him, but when it finally registered in his mind, you were being pulled up to his level and he smashed your lips together. 

The kiss was rough; he was allowing his hormones to act for him and you were extremely thankful for it. In the past, the two of you had many passionate make out sessions which usually ended with Mark giving you an excuse as to why he had to leave early or why he took so long in the bathroom. Now, it all made sense. 

“Shit, are you sure baby? Fuck—I’m so excited, please excuse my swearing but fuck—I promise you, I’m going to take such good care of you okay? You don’t understand how long I’ve been dreaming about this day. Your body—God spent a lot of time creating you. I lose my damn mind every single day watching you walk out in these tight little outfits and in my clothes and it takes every single bone in my body not to just say fuck it and have my way with you. You’re so fucking beautiful y/n, every single thing about you is mesmerizing. You’re one of the seven wonders of the world—I would stare at you all day if time allowed me to. Everything about you—your personality, your strength, your courage, your passion and dedication to every single activity and job you put your heart and mind in to—you’re simply perfect baby and I can’t wait to show you exactly what you mean to me. I’m going to warn you right now, I’m not a mind reader unfortunately, so I can’t tell what you’re thinking. I’m going to need you to tell me what feels good, what hurts, what feels uncomfortable, what you like—just be vocal okay baby? I want your experience to be mind blowing. I want this night to be one you will remember for a very long time.” 

You bit your lip at his words—you knew you were making the right decision in allowing Mark to be the person to take your innocence away. He already was the rightful owner of your heart, so you saw no harm in giving him the entirety of your being. 

There was nobody else in the entire world that you saw yourself with—Mark was it for you. You came to the decision months ago that you wanted Mark to be the first person you experienced going all the way with and you could only hope and pray he’d be the last and only person. 

He pulled you on to his lap and reconnected his lips with yours—grinding your clothed core against his naked sex. His fingers were squeezing all but gently on your lower waist as he guided your grinding—a breathy moan left his lips practically every ten seconds. If you thought hearing your boyfriend laugh was your favorite sound in the entire world, his moans and growls against your jaw had to be pretty high on that list also. 

“Mark—babe—I want to suck you off.��� He quickly pulled his lips away from yours and his eyes widened in shock at your sudden confession. 

“W—what—you want to—you want to suck me off—who are you and what did you do to my sweet, innocent girl y/n? Where did you get such a potty mouth babe?”

“I don’t know, seeing your cock did things to me. You’re huge—is that even going to fit in either of my holes?” 

Mark tried to cover up his mouth to prevent himself from laughing more than he should, but you were just so adorably naïve that he couldn’t help himself. You didn’t know what the average size; length and width of a penis was, but Mark had to be around 6.5 to 7 inches in length and his girth was thick. You looked at him and pouted slightly; you were only ruining the night the longer you continued to indirectly hint towards your lack of experience. What if he was laughing because he already knew you’d have no idea what you’d be doing if you did end up blowing him off. 

Apparently receiving head was something a lot of guys enjoyed most about sexual intercourse—so you wanted to do that for Mark as your way of thanking him for being such a perfect boyfriend. For never failing to supply you with everything that you need, for making you laugh on the days that you didn’t think you were able to do anything but cry, for picking you up and dropping you off to work when he had the time, for comforting you when you had a rough day by preparing you a bath and making you a cup of tea—you just wanted him to know that you were aware and extremely appreciative of his many sacrifices, how he was so quick to tend to your needs and how he’d drop everything to be by your side. 

He didn’t have to say it; you knew deep in your heart that Mark loved you just by his doting actions. But you were hoping that maybe one day, he’d finally say those three words you’ve been dying to hear from the first time he kissed you. 

“Yes, it will fit. How the hell are you so cute when asking to give me head? You can’t be real—fuck, hearing you ask to suck my dick is something I’ll never get used to but shit—I think I could come just by hearing you talk dirty. You’re so fucking sexy—please—blow me baby.” 

You stole one more sweet kiss from his soft lips and got down on your knees; you were level with his cock and you wrapped your hand around his length, earning yourself a breathy sigh. 

“I um—I don’t know what I’m doing, so do you think you could guide me?” He gave you an adoring smile while gathering all your hair and putting it in to a makeshift ponytail. 

“You’re going to want to lubricate me just a little bit so it’ll be easier for you to take me in your mouth—so you can either spit on me or lick the sides of my dick and—holy—s—shit—just like that—oh—“ 

You didn’t hesitate to follow his directions; gripping his cock at the base, you licked long stripes up and down; making sure to press your tongue down harder on his veins. You then brought one of his balls inside of your mouth; sucking and nibbling on it for a few seconds before switching over to the other side. 

After showing some love to both of his balls for around a little over a minute, you circled your tongue around the tip of his dick and flicked at his slit just to see what would get a rise out of him for future reference. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but you gave him no chance to emit any kind of speech before you finally wrapped your mouth around him. You wished you could have recorded his reaction in that moment; his moan went straight to your core. 

His eyelashes fluttered as he shut his eyes and threw his head back—you didn’t know what to think about his reaction so far, but when he brought his hands down to your hair and tugged on it all but gently, you had a feeling you must have been doing something right. You continued your movements but increased your speed—bobbing your mouth up and down on his shaft as quickly as you could. Since he was well endowed, you tried your best to swallow as much of him that your throat would allow; the tip of his cock met your vulva with every thrust. 

Tears began to build up at your eyes and you weren’t going to lie, it was painful. You were starting to choke and gag as he sank deeper inside of your throat. However, hearing his moans echo throughout the room as multiple curses fell from his mouth only led you to desire going faster—taking him completely down your throat and pumping whatever you couldn’t fit in to your mouth with your hand. 

“Shit—baby, that feels so fucking good I can’t even—your mouth is so—feels amazing—“ 

You hummed softly at his compliment against his girth—pulling away in order to smile up at him but ultimately shoving him back inside of you. It was unexpected; you didn’t think you could benefit from giving head, but you were having just as much fun blowing your boyfriend as he was adamantly was being on the receiving end. 

Something about seeing him writhing at your ministrations and hearing him praise you sent warmth straight to your folds. You also really enjoyed having his cocked stuffed in to your mouth; something about it made you feel confident; sexy even and you weren’t one to get all that cocky, but you were getting off on your boyfriend’s many praises of what a good girl you were. All you wanted was to please your boyfriend, you didn’t care whether or not you were doing it right—but hearing him whine and beg you to suck him harder brought you just as much pleasure. 

“Y/n—can I—do you think I could fuck your face? Would that be okay or is that too much? You can be honest with me baby, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this—I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to—“

“Do whatever it is that you want with me, I can take it Mark. I want to take care of you too. Tonight is as much about you as it is about me. I want to learn how to please you; I want to show you just how much you mean to me, so do your worst babe. Fuck, I love sucking your dick Mark. It feels so fucking good.” 

He whimpered at your explicit words; yet he was quick to shove his cock back inside of your mouth—making sure you were prepared for him before he began roughly pumping in and out of your wet cavern. He tugged on your ponytail ever so gently and pushed you further down his length to the point where your teeth were grazing his balls. You honestly didn’t even think you were capable to practically swallow him whole, but you could feel his tip deep in the back of your throat. 

That must have been a good thing; your friends always made comments about how they couldn’t fit even half of their partner’s cock in their mouths and apparently, guys enjoyed it when girls could deepthroat. The naughty and sinful noises falling repeatedly from Mark’s lips made it obvious that he was having the time of his life. 

“Such a good, good girl. You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth. God, if only you could see yourself right now. You look so fucking sexy and you’re taking me so well. Your mouth was made to suck my cock y/n.” 

You brought both your hands up to his ass and playfully squeezed his cheeks, earning you the most adorable gasp from your boyfriend. After this experience, you were well aware that you’d need to blow him at least every other day in order to get your own fill. If he already felt wonderful against your tongue, your mouth started to water at the thought of how he’d feel in between your pussy. 

“Baby—I’m close—I’m going to—I—mmm—“ 

Before you could even process his stuttering, his creamy, warm liquid filled up the entirety of your mouth. You sucked him dry of all his cum—making sure to lap up any left over substance from off of your lips. Absentmindedly, you brought your thumb up to his head and grazed your nail around his tip, flicking at his slit playfully. He lightly tugged on your hair and the noise he released from the back of his throat—a mixture of a moan and a whine caused the coil deep inside of your core to tighten. 

After a few more long licks against his girth, you made your way back up to him and stole a sweet kiss from his lips. His movements were quick; he pulled you with him back on to the bed and flipped over your bodies so that he was on top of you. 

“What in the hell was that y/n? There is no way that could have been your first time—you were—holy shit I can’t even explain how incredible that felt and how amazing you are I’m honestly speechless. Damn baby, you’re a professional; that was the best head I’ve ever been given. Your tongue—God, you were made to suck my cock baby. Thank you—I’ll do whatever it is you ask of me—anything baby. Shit. Give me a moment will you?” 

He began to take in deep breaths, his chest heaved right above yours. You couldn’t hold back; you released a snarky giggle at the way he was acting like he just finished a marathon. He had to be overreacting; there was no way you blew him as well as he claimed that you did. 

All you did was sink your mouth on his cock and bobbed your head along his hardened length—going by your instincts and what you believed would drive him crazy. You did suck and nibble on his tip in particular; he seemed to react the most when you focused on that particular area of his penis. It was obvious he was sensitive there, and you were going to use that knowledge as your advantage and for future reference.

Once your boyfriend caught his breath, he turned around to face you and brought his hand up to your cheek, cupping and playfully pinching it before stealing multiple sweet kisses from your lips. 

“You can’t be real—there’s no way. You—God, you’re wonderful. Absolutely extraordinary. I can’t even think right now. I know we’ve waited to be intimate for when you were ready, but damn—I’ve been missing out. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me, but I really would not mind receiving a blow job at least twice a day.”

You jokingly rolled your eyes and softly flicked his forehead at his comment; but you already came to the decision that you would need to have him in your mouth as much as he was hinting towards needing to have you. 

“If I’m already losing my mind at having your pretty little mouth around me, what more when I’m buried in your pretty little cunt? I’m so fucking excited to be inside of you baby—but first, I really want to return the favor. I want you to feel the euphoria you just sent me through.” 

There were a few moments every now and then when you would imagine what it would feel like to have someone go down on you. Whenever you would go out to meet up with your group of friends, you would talk about everything going on in your lives; work, school, family drama—and you didn’t know how the topic of sex would come about, but they all seemed to live very sexually active lives. Since you were twenty-three years old, you felt embarrassed at the fact that you were still a virgin. 

Even more so because you were in a relationship—although sex was an exceptionally big deal when it came to dating, it wasn’t everything. You knew it was normal for some couples to not have sex at all—some people didn’t necessarily care for it and others didn’t revolve their relationships around it. But both you and Mark were still so young; sex was on the minds of almost everyone at your age. 

Therefore, you kept to yourself and never joined in as your friends would go in to great detail about how amazing it felt to be eaten out and that some of them were so addicted to having sex to the point where they would have to call in sick from their jobs because they weren’t physically able to walk. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t envious of the fact that every single one of your friends has had some kind of sexual experience. 

Apparently, it felt better to have sex with the person you were in a relationship with—or the person you were in love with. Sex was more meaningful and there was more connection—more intimacy involved. One of your friends stated that it was because men had a tendency of giving their all when feelings of love and adoration were involved. Now that you began to think about your conversations with them, you felt as though their words played a small part in leading you to finally wanting to go all the way with Mark. 

“Hey, you alright? I didn’t hurt you too much did I?” 

You didn’t realize you were spacing out until you felt him run his fingers through your tousled hair. Seeing the worry that was now on his face tugged at your heartstrings; it was painfully obvious that he was enjoying himself. Maybe a little too much, but you liked it. However, you were well aware that Mark wasn’t going to allow this continue unless you were having just as much fun as he was—no matter how thrilled he was to finally get to love on your body. 

His reaction made you smile softly to yourself; although he would remind you on a daily basis how you were the best thing that has ever happened to him and that just the mere thought of you is what would keep him going throughout the day, it was nice hearing him worry about how you were doing. Honestly, what did you do to deserve him? 

“I’m fine baby. I was just thinking. But—um—I—I didn’t think we would be doing this so I—uh—I’m not really—tidy down there and I don’t want you to see—“ He giggled against the juncture of your neck and dragged his teeth along your collarbone; humming while leaving wet pecks in his wake. 

“Baby. Look at me.” 

You lifted your head and made direct eye contact with the older boy. In the beginning of your relationship, you were very shy to even hold his hand. Every time he’d look at you or catch you looking at him, heat would rise upon your cheeks as you would blush in embarrassment. But overtime, you were able to look at him without having to turn away from growing shy and timid. You believed it was because you were a lot more comfortable with your boyfriend now and he was very verbal about how much he took great delight in being able to look at you; so you’ve grown immune to his many stolen glances. Although; you still had your few moments of shyness—but Mark was a fan of knowing the effect his gaze had on you. 

“I don’t care about things like that, okay? Really—most men don’t and the ones who do are complete assholes. Whether you’re as bare as the desert or have a full on jungle going on, it really doesn’t matter to me. I’m going to eat you out nonetheless. We don’t have to do that if you’re not comfortable just yet, but I’m going to tell you now, I’ve been dreaming about the moment I finally get to have my face smashed up against your pussy since the first day I realized I had feelings for you. It will feel amazing—I promise you. But just like you baby, I want to learn your body. I want to learn each and every curve—I want to map you entirely with my tongue. I want to memorize each and every single birth and beauty mark, every scar, every dimple. I want to know it all and I have the rest of my life to learn. I need you to tell me what you like—what you couldn’t care less for, what you want me to focus on, whether you want me to slow down or pick up my pace. I want you to be verbal about what feels good. I need you to teach me how to love your beautiful body y/n and I won’t stop until you got to feel even half of the amount of pleasure you’ve given me. Okay? I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” 

Each word that fell from his lips; his entire confession of what he had planned to do to you filled your chest with wonder and excitement. You were never afraid of finally giving up your innocence. Sure, you were worried that when he were to finally make his way inside of you—the pain would be unbearable and extremely uncomfortable. 

There were quite a few first time horror stories that you’ve heard in the last year from your closest friends, some of your cousins and even a couple of your classmates. But you genuinely didn’t even think about how it would hurt; you trusted Mark more than anyone else in the entire world. You believed wholeheartedly that he wouldn’t hurt you and as much as you didn’t want to think about any of his past lovers, you were sure he had enough experience in bed to know how to take care of a girl. 

Hearing that he planned on spending the rest of his life with you just set his feelings in stone for you. The two of you talked about your future together on multiple occasions; where you’d want to live in, the kind of house you’d want to purchase, getting a dog together—things like that, but you didn’t think he was all too serious about you being the person he ended up marrying. It was still so early on in your relationship to plan so far ahead, but when it’s real love, you just know and you’ve known for a long time now that he was the man you want nothing more than to see at the end of the aisle one day. 

“Okay.”

“Okay? Are you sure baby?”

“Yes. I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure about anything else in my entire life. I’ve found myself staring at you whenever you’d bite on or lick your lips. I—I’ve pictured how they would feel like nibbling and licking on my clit. I—hate to say this but I think I actually came once—I don’t know if I did, I don’t know how these things work, but my underwear was soaked and my vagina hurt the entire day so—please, eat me Mark Tuan. Show me what that tongue does. Fuck me with your mouth.” 

His jaw was now clenched and the veins on his neck grew more prominent. The low, stifled sound of what you assumed as a growl came from the back of his throat. He gave you no time to even think of what to say or how to react, he pushed you roughly on to his bed and smashed his lips against yours. His kisses were hard—fleeting, rushed—he tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth and kissed you with all the breath he had in his body. 

His hands moved all along your sides; he’s touched you quite often, but not in the way that he was right now. Your body felt as those it was burning in flames—there was electricity running through your blood and you had to squeeze your thighs together because of how dominant and animalistic he was acting. 

“Fuck, I didn’t realize how sexy hearing you command me to eat you out would sound. You’re so fucking hot, I can’t wait to devour you. But before I do anything, let’s get this off of you. Don’t get me wrong, you look so gorgeous in every outfit that you wear—but whenever you wear my clothes, I get hard every single time. It actually took every bone in my body not to beg you to let me have my way with you. Sometimes, I’ll even buy clothes for myself that I think would look good on you. I really don’t want to rush our relationship and all I care about is your happiness and your well being—but hearing that you trust me and that you want me to be the only man—a lucky man at that—to have you—I’ll never take that for granted.” 

He practically yanked his shirt off of you and flew it somewhere across the room. It didn’t matter to either of you—you were both eager to finally indulge in one another and with the way he was quickly discarding both of your clothes from your bodies; impatient to have his way with you—you knew he didn’t care about the state of his bedroom floor. Not when he was seconds away from ravishing in your dripping cunt. 

“I really wanted to take my time with you—I wanted our first time together to be soft and slow, but I can’t. The need to fuck the living shit out of you is strong. Oh God—your tits. Ah, I’m fucked. Seriously. As your boyfriend, I always find my gaze wandering over to these pretty titties of yours. But fuck—seeing them bare; your nipples are so perky and I’m sure if I were to flick one of them—they’d be hard. I can’t even tell you how much I’ve been wanting to suck on these huge breasts of yours. Whenever you’d wear a low cut top or even tops that are tight and hug your breasts perfectly—I wondered how wonderful it would feel getting to suck on and massage them.” 

You bit your lip at the thought of him palming himself and getting hard while thinking about your boobs. The truth was all coming out and you wished you came to the decision to become one with him sooner—much sooner. His words were doing wonders on the burning sensation in between your thighs. 

“Can I tell you something?” He nodded vehemently and you found yourself snickering at how eager he was to respond anything you said or asked of him. 

“I’ve played with my breasts a couple of times and I’d pretend it was you in my place. You have such long, skinny fingers and you have such nice hands for a man—I’ve grown curious about what you would do to me once we became intimate and I actually really enjoy how it feels. Breast play—I like it a lot, but I’m sure you can do so much better.”

“You’ve touched yourself?”

“No. Not down there. Only my boobs. I’m too much of a coward to masturbate.” 

Out of no where, he lifted up one of his hands and motioned for you to take it. You looked at him in confusion, but he motioned towards your mounds and you had an idea of what he was hinting towards wanting you to do. 

“Take my hand and show me how you touch your breasts when you think of me—when you’re horny and playing with yourself. You know, I would have gladly done it for you. All you had to do was ask baby—now I’m hard thinking about you kneading these large mounds. Shit, we need to speed up this process, I need to hurry up and rail you or else I think I’m going to lose my fucking mind. Teach me baby—show me how you do it so I get an idea of what makes your pussy throb. Show me—and then I’ll take matters in to my own hands.” 

You did as you were told—not wanting to wait much longer to feel his hands wander throughout your body. His touch was featherlight; you could tell that he was all talk. His words might have been naughty but you knew he was still going to be a gentleman when it came down to it. Mark was always so soft and gentle whenever it came to you. 

Sometimes, he’d take care of you as if you were a child; he would feed you if the two of you went out on a date, he would push you on the inside of the sidewalk, run you a bath after you had a long day and he’d also tuck you in to bed before preparing what he needed for the next day.

 As horny as he probably was right now, you could tell he was going to try his best not to go past his boundaries and risk making you feel uncomfortable. You dragged his hand between the valley of your breasts; letting his nails graze just below your bosom and you could feel goosebumps rising on your skin at how cold his fingertips were. To his surprise, you cupped one of your breasts with his hand and whispered for him to take your nipple in between his fingers. 

“Pinch it—mmm—like that.”

“Like this?” 

He squeezed your left breast—molding and kneading while twisting at your right nipple. Just the feeling of him pinching and rolling it in between his fingers was enough to elicit a breathy moan from your lips. You leaned your head back against his pillows as he was hovering over your lap. He leaned down so that you could feel his cock against your clothed entrance. 

Mark had left you only in your underwear while he was completely bare of any clothing—if you weren’t so focused on watching him show so much love to your chest, you would have ripped your panty off just to have his naked sex pressed up against yours. He continued his ministrations—spending most of his time just fondling your tits and flicking your nipples. 

After a couple of minutes tugging on his soft brown locks and trying to conceal your noises of pleasure, he looked at you with a devilish grin and a sneaky glint in his eye. Right as you were about to ask him why he looked as if he had a trick up his sleeve, he lowered his face down to your chest and wrapped his lips around your breast. 

“Oh God—mmm—Mark—holy—“ 

You couldn’t describe how amazing it felt having him suck on one of your mounds. The sensation was exceedingly mind blowing. He brought your nipple in between his teeth; lightly biting your hardened nub. He lifted his hand up to your other breast and began to squeeze it softly. When you felt him humming as he started to switch back and forth between your boobs; making sure both of your breasts got the same amount of attention, the throbbing sensation in between your thighs heightened. 

“Such pretty—pretty titties. I could suck on these things all day if you’d let me.” 

You were about to retaliate—wanting to jokingly scold him because you weren’t quite used to him being this vulgar, but he was quick to return his mouth back to your chest. 

“Mark.” 

He looked so adorable as he released your boob with a loud pop sound. “Yes baby? You okay?” 

You nodded in agreement before reaching for his hand and lowering it down to the waistband of your panties. Your boyfriend needed to know just how absolutely mad you were quickly becoming at his generous ministrations. He practically sucked your tits like it was his life duty to—as if it was his job. Without hesitation, you forcefully shoved his fingers inside; his breathing began to increase as he dragged his fingers along your wet folds. 

“Holy fuck, you’re soaking wet princess. I’m not even kidding babe, you’re like the Pacific Ocean. All because I’m sucking on your titties? God y/n, where the hell did you come from? You’re otherworldly.” 

To your dismay, he pulled his fingers away before genuinely doing anything, but he was quick to put his fingers in to his mouth and sucked on your essence. The sight alone sent chills down your spine—it was so fucking hot. He was so fucking hot and you needed him to speed up the process or else you would actually cry from sexual frustration. 

“Just as I expected; you taste delicious. So sweet. Mind if I get a taste straight from the source?” Once he received your nod of approval, he kissed you a few times—smiling against your lips as he began to cup your sex through the flimsy cotton. 

“Promise me you’ll be vocal about what feels good and what doesn’t. If you need me to stop—if it gets too much, I’ll try to pull away, but I can’t promise you anything. You taste too good.” 

Before you knew it, he started to make his way down your body. He ran his hands along your sides while leaving kisses down your neck—your collarbones, kissing both breasts, gripping your hips while placing kisses down your stomach. Once his face was right above your naval, he left a chaste kiss on your belly button causing you to giggle at the tickling sensation—but the laughter didn’t last long. 

He put both of his hands on either of your knees and pried your legs open; giving him better access to your entrance. Knowing that his face was just meters away from your core sent you in to a frenzy. This was something from your wildest dreams; you knew that the two of you would become intimate sooner or later, but seeing him in between your thighs made you lightheaded. 

Mark wasted no time in nibbling on your soft skin—he bit on your underwear and pulled it down to your legs, completely ridding you of your final piece of clothing. You were grateful that you picked the right kind of panties to wear tonight; although you were sure Mark wouldn’t have cared at all if you decided to wear boy shorts or granny panties. 

Since you were in a position where you weren’t able to see him, you soon grew insecure at the idea of being completely bare in front of him. All you wanted was to be enough for your boyfriend; he was nothing short of perfect and you desired to be exactly that for him. It’s what he deserved. 

Seeing as how you lacked self-confidence, you brought your hands up to your eyes to prevent yourself from seeing his reaction of seeing you completely naked. Mark was a very kind person towards you; especially because he was your boyfriend, so you knew that there was a chance he would lie or not tell you the complete truth in order to save your feelings. 

You were afraid that he might have been with girls who had nicer bodies than you—skinnier, smaller and more petite frames with tiny waists, big breasts and a round, plump ass. You’d rather him be honest with you, but even if he just so happened to find flaws on your body, you were well aware that he wouldn’t admit it. That’s just who he was; Mark hated hurting people’s feelings, even if they deserved to know the truth. Just because you were his girlfriend wouldn’t change the fact that he was always looking out to protect people and prevent them from feeling bad about themselves. 

“Nope—we’re not having any of that.” He reached up to pull your hands away from your face and gave you a scowl. “You—are so breathtakingly beautiful. I can’t even fathom your beauty in to words. I could write a novel about your gorgeous features—how did I get so damn lucky? Your body; fuck—your body is a damn wonderland y/n and I can’t wait to explore it. You have such a pretty cunt and I’m so excited to fuck it. Listen to me baby—you are the most beautiful girl on this hell forsaken earth you hear me? By the end of the night, I will make sure you know how much of a goddess you are.” 

He blew warm air against your cunt—immediately sending shivers down your spine. Finally, after what felt like hours waiting for him touch you—to actually touch you, he licked a long strip along your folds and you let out a loud whimper.

“Fuck!”

“You like that?” 

You nodded so quickly—not caring how straight forward your response was. He began to lick and suck along your folds—his hands made their way up to your ass cheeks and squeezed both as he went to work; nibbling and sucking on your pussy. His teeth grazed against your overly sensitive nub and you found yourself pulling on the bedsheets—needing to grip at anything other than his hair because you knew if you were to tug on his locks while he was sucking you dry—he’d probably be bald by the end of the night.

“Fuck—Mark! Ah—there, right there—oh—“ 

With every hum and moan against your core, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your end. You believed that you were close to orgasming; there was an unfamiliar burning sensation in your stomach and you knew that Mark was going to do whatever he could to lessen the tension. Your moans only grew louder the longer his mouth stayed on your cunt; his wet muscle continued to lap up your juices. To your delight, he brought his index and middle finger up to your entrance and didn’t give you any time to prepare before he shoved both digits inside of you. 

“Oh my God—Mark! That feels—so, so good!” 

You couldn’t even describe the euphoria you were feeling as his tongue licked and slurped against your clit while he began pumping his fingers in and out of you. Your heart felt as if it was about to leap out of your chest; he was taking your breath away and you were sure with how many times you were chanting his name that you were going to lose your voice before the night ends. When you felt him curl both fingers inside of you, you yelped in shock. 

He was reaching deeper—you weren’t sure just how far into your cunt that his fingers could go, but he began to graze along an area that was soon causing your knees to buckle and your thighs to shake. 

“Mark—Mark—oh—baby—“

“That’s your g-spot if you didn’t already know. I plan on keeping that in mind. Feels good doesn’t it?”

“Mmm—yeah—please, go faster.” 

He giggled against your folds and placed a sloppy kiss against your labia all the while adding in another finger inside. You could feel tears brimming at your eyelids, but it was only because he was bringing you so much pleasure. You absentmindedly lowered your hand down to his face and cupped his cheek; he might have said his main purpose was to please you, but you were hoping that he was receiving the same amount of ecstasy that he was giving to you. His movements picked up—switching between his lips, tongue and fingers. He even playfully slapped your pussy in the hopes of getting a rise out of you and instead of growing irritated, you were sure he brought you closer to your end. 

“Close baby?”

“Yes—God yes. Your tongue—your fingers—I can’t hold it in anymore—“

“You don’t have to. Let go for me.” 

The last sentence came out as a command; his voice was low and raspy which caused you to do exactly as you were told. Your head felt as if it was about to blow up. Everything was spinning; you began to see white and the tightness in your stomach was no longer there. It felt like a wave crashed upon you and filled up your lungs; taking your breath away completely. Mark didn’t stop his licking—he continued to suck up your juices entirely. 

He drank from your cunt like you were a well and he was dying of thirst. Once your boyfriend decided that he rid you completely of your release, he pulled his fingers out of the depths of your silky walls and made his way back up to you. The sight of your fucked out state made him chuckle—your chest was rapidly rising, some of your hair was stuck to your forehead and your eyes were rolled to the back of your head. 

In that moment—seeing you look as if the wind was completely swept out of you, he knew this was when you looked the most ethereal. The kiss against your forehead was delicate; featherlight. Nothing compared to the rough and impatient ones he left on your core just a few moments ago. When he brought his fingers up to your lips, you saw the white liquid running along both his index and his ring fingers and internally groaned. 

“I want you to taste yourself. Say ah.” 

You stuck out your tongue and allowed him to insert his digits inside of your mouth; you made sure to make direct eye contact as you sucked on his fingers just like you previously did with his length. You swirled your tongue around both of them, making sure to press your wet muscle before allowing him to pull them out. His brows were furrowed while he dragged his teeth along his bottom lip. He was obviously extremely turned on by your ministrations and soon, his lips were back on yours. 

His hands immediately cupped both your cheeks as he put in as much energy in to the kiss that he could muster. With the way he was kissing you—like he would die if he were to take his lips away from yours, you were growing impatient with wanting to finally have him fill you up. 

Having his naked body pressed up against yours, feeling his cock graze against your entrance, having your breasts pressed up firmly against his chest—everything was getting too much for you. There were so many emotions running through you; you were never going to get enough of having Mark like this. 

“How was it y/n? I mean—I’m assuming you were having a great time. You absentmindedly began to wrap your legs around my head and I did grow a little lightheaded but—“

“Oh my God Mark, why didn’t you say anything?! I’m so sorry—“

He let out a soft snicker against your neck and placed a kiss there while making his way back up to you. “Don’t apologize, it was fucking sexy as hell. You’re like my own personal ear muffs. Being suffocated by these thick thighs of yours would be an ideal way to go if you ask me.” 

You both erupted in laughter at his silly comment and you enjoyed the playful banter going on between the two of you. Was it normal to joke around during a time of lust and erotica? It didn’t matter—everything that happened tonight would be forever imprinted in to your heart. The events that happened so far were just as touching and heartwarming as they were sexual. 

“You’re such a dumbass you know that? But yes, I had a wonderful time. Thank you baby. That was—wow—more than I could ever imagine. Fuck, that felt heavenly. I really liked that; more than I’d want to admit. Your lips and your tongue are now my favorite body parts on you.”

“Oh, really? I’ll keep that in mind for future reference. I enjoyed that just as much as you did. I’m not kidding, you taste marvelous. I could spend the entire rest of tonight with my head in between your thighs—but I think it’s time you and I finally um—you know—“

“Fuck?”

“Jeez y/n, could you be any less romantic?”

 He squeezed your ass and slapped both of your both of your cheeks. However, he was quick to change his demeanor from naughty to gentle and soft. His eyes softened and he brought some of your hair behind your ear; letting his fingers glide along your neck and collarbones. The glint in his eyes made your heart swell up—any nerves that you had before going in to it were completely gone now. All you could think about was giving yourself completely to the love of your life. 

“Babe.”

“Yeah?”

“Take me already. I’m yours.” 

He gave you a soft smile and brought his bottom lip in between his teeth; he took his index finger and began to trace your features—starting with both your brows, then taking it along your nose to just above your Cupid’s bow. His ran his thumb along your top lip and you placed a sweet kiss on the back of it. 

“Say it again.”

“Huh?”

“I’m yours. I want you to say it again.” If you were to take a look at yourself right now, you were sure your cheeks would be flushed—you were now shy for the first time tonight. 

“Mark Tuan—I’m yours. Forever.” 

He clenched his jaw—your words obviously had some kind of affect on him. To your confusion, he got off of you and leaped over to his drawer; rummaging through clothes and underwear. Finally, after what felt like hours of waiting for him to find whatever it was that he looked for, he released a sigh of relief and briskly made his way back over to you. 

The tin foil packet was held in between his fingers and he waved it around like some kind of trophy. Only then did it really occur to you that you were going to lose your virginity—and to the man who your entire life revolved around. It was a bittersweet feeling; but you were more than happy to eventually be able to experience having your way with one another. He tore open the wrapper and placed the condom on his dick—crawling over to you and hovering over your lap. He gently took your chin in between his fingers and lifted your face so that you were looking up at him. 

“I’m sorry if it hurts okay? It might feel uncomfortable and maybe even painful at first. I want you to tell me if you need me to stop or to slow down. I’ll try not to go too hard since it is your first time, but if you were already so tight around my fingers, I can only imagine you’re going to clench around me with your pussy in the most delicious way. You trust me right?” 

You nodded—not missing a beat while giving him an exhausted smile. It wasn’t even up for debate, you trusted Mark with your entire being. He was the only person you would confess every single thing to. Whenever you had good news, he was the first person you wanted to tell and whenever your day wasn’t all that great, you wanted to find solace in him and he wrapped up in his embrace. When you nonverbally gave him your permission to take the lead, he lined himself at your entrance and tapped his cock against your folds; running it back and forth along your labia in order to collect some of your juices. 

“Remember, I don’t move unless you say I can.” 

He lowered himself and placed his lips against yours; you assumed it was his way of taking your mind off of the stretch that was about to come. As soon as Mark entered himself inside of you, you couldn’t help but let out a whimper. It wasn’t all that painful, but it was uncomfortable. Obviously, you weren’t used to being filled like this; something about the way his cock felt against your walls ignited a tingling sensation to your core. Your boyfriend moaned against your mouth and tightened his grip on your hip bones. “

Fuck—you’re so tight. Shit; I’m not even exaggerating—“

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes. God yes. You feel glorious. But are you okay? It doesn’t hurt too much does it?” 

You shook your head in disagreement. No matter how uncomfortable you were, it was adamant that your boyfriend was trying his best not to lose his shit. You were going to suck it up and take him like a big girl; you were well aware that the pain would soon be replaced with pleasure  once he began to pick up the pace. 

“Mark, you can move. I’m okay.” 

His eyes seemingly rolled to the back of his head after hearing you give him permission to move and he didn’t even take a second to process that information, he began to ram himself slowly inside of you. He pulled his cock out of you before pounding his length back inside of your cunt all but gently. His pelvis hit your ass with each and every thrust and just as you expected it, you were now moaning in pleasure from the feeling of the tip of his cock hitting the back of your cervix. 

The two of you moaned in unison each time he bottomed in and out of you. He rotated between stealing chaste kisses from you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and groaning against your jaw and sucking on both of your breasts; biting on your nipples whenever he thrusted himself a little too roughly. 

“F—fuck—feels so—“

“I know—shit—you’re so fucking wet y/n—“

His pace grew quicker to the point where he was practically railing you—the sound of skin smacking and clapping against each other alongside of both his and your moans and curses bounced off of his walls. You weren’t sure whether or not he was aware that he was leaving bruises on your skin, but you didn’t care—your mind was solely focused on him and only him. Everything else was just going to have to with till the morning. He pulled his hands away from your waist and brought them up to your breasts, pushing them up and down as he mirrored his movements inside of your warm cavern. 

“You look so beautiful right now I don’t think there are enough words in the English dictionary to even describe just how gorgeous you are. I can’t believe you’re all mine.” 

He lifted one of your legs and threw it over his shoulder; you weren’t sure exactly what he was doing until he pushed his dick back into your folds and began to reach deeper and further in to your pussy. “H-holy shit Mark—“ His girth continuously grazed against your clit; the way his hands were roaming all throughout your body, you had a feeling he couldn’t keep his hands in one place. 

Sweat was dripping down the both of you; when he lifted your other leg on top of his shoulder, you immediately clenched around him. The sensation was driving you literally insane. He was right; now that he had an idea of what made you squirm and scream, you could tell that he was going to use it against you. 

“Fuck, did you just get tighter? Stop that—please, I know I’m minutes away from coming and I don’t want to cum just yet. I really didn’t want to tease you tonight, but I will teach you a lesson if I have to. Don’t test me y/n. Come on, you’ve been such a good girl this entire night baby. We can experiment more next time, but for now, I just want to make love to my pretty girl.” 

It was tempting; if he was going to mess around with you by constantly trying to reach for your g-spot, you wanted to show him the same amount of teasing by clenching around him. You also wanted to see just how animalistic your boyfriend could get and you wanted him to go rough on you—but you didn’t want to have to beg him to do something, anything to help you reach your release. You wanted to experience coming with him—you were already so close to your second coming. 

Mark was a man of actions rather than of talking, so you trusted the fact that he would punish you if you did continue to go against his wishes. Although you were well aware now that you’ve finally had him inside of you, having sex would be a frequent activity—you felt yourself smiling like an idiot hearing him make plans for the next time you’d tumble in to bed together. 

After a few moments, you felt your legs giving in—probably because of how sore your inner thighs were now that he kept burying himself in between them at a mind blowing pace. He fucked you like he had vengeance on you—his cock filled you to the hilt. Slowly, he brought your legs off of him and got closer to you; he intertwined your hands together and placed them on either side of your head.

He continued to pump himself inside of you—constant moans continued to fall from your lips. You were completely speechless; his name fell off of your lips like a mantra. He kissed you hard; his pink lips were swollen and you were sure your lips looked similar if not the same. 

“Y/n.” 

You looked up at him and your breath hitched when you saw the way he was looking at you. His gaze was one that you didn’t recognize. His eyes were soft—he had a small smile that you wouldn’t have been able to distinguish if you didn’t see the glint in his eyes. You were about to question his sudden whisper of your name but he beat you to it. 

“I love you. God, do I love you. I love you so much baby. I love you, I love you, I love you. I don’t ever want to stop saying it.” 

With every thrust came a love confession and just hearing him admit those three magical words; the three words you’ve been yearning to hear for months—his words alone sent butterflies to your tummy and you weren’t even able to say it back to him before you felt yourself letting go and seeing stars for a second time. With a few more thrusts, you were soon being filled with his creamy, warm liquid and he flopped down on top of you while burying his face in between your breasts. 

You brought one hand in to his hair while dragging the other gently across of the expense of his back. The two of you laid there in silence; giving yourselves some time to both settle down from your breathtaking and extremely mind blowing orgasms. You were sure he could feel your heart racing against his chest; his was beating rapidly against yours. A huge grin rose on your face as you began to think about his love confession. 

He loved you. 

You didn’t care that it took him six months to admit his feelings for you, you were completely over the moon. You left a soft kiss right below his ear. 

“I love you too Mark and I’m in love with you. I have been for longer than I’d like to admit. I’ve been wanting to tell you for months, but I was afraid that it was too early to tell you and that you didn’t feel that way about me—“

“I’ve been in love with you since our second date y/n I’m not even joking. Don’t get me wrong, like I’ve mentioned multiple times tonight, you’re genuinely such a beautiful girl—you’re literally a sight for sore eyes. But everything about you is seemingly perfect. Your personality, your intelligence, your kindness, generosity and your heart. The way you dropped everything to run over to help that older lady carry her groceries to the bus stop and then the way you didn’t even hesitate to buy ice cream for that little girl who dropped hers at the play ground. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, I need you to know that. I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re my entire world y/n. These last six months with you—getting to love you—kissing you, having late night conversations about the future with you, going on all these cute little dates with you, staying up till three in the morning to talk with you—I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I would go to the ends of this earth if it meant having you for the rest of my life in each and every lifetime.” 

Tears began to fall down your cheeks and you immediately pulled him in to another kiss; you didn’t think you were able to top his heartfelt speech nor did you want to. You could only hope your signs of affection would be enough to prove what your words weren’t able to. 

“Is sex everything you could hope it would be?”

“Yes. I um—I’m actually upset with myself for waiting this long. If I knew back then what I know now; if I knew how glorious making love to you would be then I would have let you take me right after our first date. You’re so good to me Mark. You’re the best boyfriend a girl could ever ask for. Thank you for that; and for every single thing that you do for me. Was I okay though? I know, you’ve probably been with partners who had more experience and were able to please you in better ways than I did, but I’m willing to learn whatever I need to in order to be good enough for you—“

You frowned when he roughly placed his hand over your mouth in attempts to silence you and licked his hand out of force of habit. “I never ever want to hear you say that you aren’t good enough for me or that you want to change your ways to be what you think I deserve. You are what I deserve; hell, if anything, I’m not good enough for you y/n. That was the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life and I mean it. I’m not just saying that to spare your feelings or to make you feel better about the situation. You are the only person I’ve ever been in love with. You’re the only person I am ever going to love. What we had wasn’t sex—we made love. You were perfect baby. You made sure to take care of me and made tonight about us—even if I really wanted to focus specifically on you. Did I not praise you enough for the mindblowing blowjob you gave me? Where did you even learn how to do that? That was—I’m speechless. You took my breath away at least five times tonight and now you’re doing it for a sixth time just looking the way you do right now. If you’re not tired, I’m hard again. I’m sure you can feel it. There are so many things I want to do to you and since the night is still young, maybe we can cross some of those things off of my list. I want you on all fours baby. I wanna see that ass clap for me.”

Your imagination Now I'm fixated And I'm dying to learn Every inch of you Therе's something new F'ing me up I'm what you deserve, just

Draw a map for me Laced with strawberries And I'll get on my knees

Put my hands around you Ooh, teach me how to Touch you, tease, caress you, and please you Teach me how to love Put my hands around you Ooh, teach me how to Touch you, tease, caress you, and please you Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love

How to love How to love Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love

Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush

Put my hands around you Ooh, teach me how to Touch you, tease, caress you, and please you Teach me how to love (please teach me how to love) Put my hands around you Ooh, teach me how to Touch you, tease, caress you, and please you Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love

How to love How to love Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love How to love How to love Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love

[misumeaw-blog]

13 Days 13 Fanfics | Counting down Albedo’s Birthday

Pairing : Albedo x GN! Reader 

Genre : Fluff | Established relationship

Warning : None :D

Word count : 650 words 

note : I'm SO running out of time. I noticed that my writing style has changed and I don't know how to feel about it yet. I think I will make day 11 under 500 words and pour my heart and soul on the last two day.

oh and my exam is Tomorrow

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

Day 10 Festival

Heart desires for exploration, endless roads of Teyvat await your arrival. And when news of festivals enters your ears, you will catch the opportunity. Freedom in your blood, like the city you were born in.

You met the renowned alchemist during your expedition on Dragonspine, who knew about a year later you both are in love. Respecting each other’s personal time, and maintaining a strong bond.

 

“Pretty please ‘Bedo? The lanterns will be so beautiful, you will get a chance to draw them- and to study Liyue’s special plants for research?” Puppy eyes attacking his heart, hands lightly tugging on his navy shirt “You have been to Lantern Rite Festival several times, did you not?” Before you both met, the adventurous heart did bring to you many places, including Liyue’s festivals

“But it will be the first time I got to go with You.. it will be much more special” low-key whining, arms wrapped around this wrist, snuggling his neck to attack his soft spot. The alchemist is melting. Although he has quite a knowledge about Liyue already, sketching a city filled with floating light? It would be grand scenery. Best of all, he gets a chance to see you in your element, surely he wouldn’t let it slide. His eyes scanned the room filled with documents, some experiments can be easily taken care of in hands of his assistants “You win, sunshine. but I must inform Acting Grand Master about my leave first, alright?” gentle lips placed on your forehead before holding you closer, a bright smile appears on your face

 

 

City of Contact’s street is filled with people far and wide, jade roof decorated with colorful banners, streetlights overpowering the night sky, shops displaying the best quality goods, ranging from fabrics to festive’s food specialties.

“Let’s go Bedo” Holding his hand as you ran excitedly through the street, glancing back to see the male with a soft smile following you Mouthwatering aroma flew to in the air, legs swiftly follow the source of delicate scent “thank you~” the food vendor was the first to get your mora. you ordered something easy to walk and eat at the same time, Grilled Tiger Fish and Fried Radish Balls for two each.

 

Blowing cold wind to the crispy radish, you held the skewer toward the platinum-haired prince “Bedo, Aaa” gestured him to open his mouth, wanting to share the traditional cuisine with him "I’m not really hungry” “Come on, just a bite?” You don’t get a chance to feed him often, he secretly loves it when you do

He finally obliged and bend down lightly to take a bite out of crispy fried vegetables, cheeks fluttering, unknowingly from the heat of the food or his adorable shyness

 

Hours pass and you two finally set your foot on a mountain not far from the harbor. Portable lamp shines dimly for the alchemist to see the canvas, he has already pre-sketch the golden city

“Bedo look!” The largest lantern shaped like a deer Adeptus, Skybracer, lit up. His legendary story made him this year’s Mingxiao Lantern. It took a step in the air and hopped to the endless sky. Street filled with lanterns along with the path Skybracer takes. The night slowly lit up with uncountable numbers of lanterns, city, replacing stars in the sky. The Mingxiao Lantern then soar to the sky, exploding to a massive firework, accompanied by many small ones.

 

After a while, you turned to see your boyfriend staring at you “So beautiful..” the young chief alchemist murmured

“I know right? This is why I wanted to bring you here” He huffed and smile, pulling you close for you to see his drawing

The picture is indeed the city with beautiful lanterns floating atop, but there’s also a familiar figure staring at the sky “Absolutely beautiful”

 

Many months later, “Albedo~” your arms once wrapped around him “So I heard there’s a festival in Inazuma..”

[symphonyofthewrite]

If These Walls Could Talk (Ch3) (with cover art!)

(AMAZING cover art by Junki Sakuraba on Instagram and Deviantart!!)

Fandom: Castlevania Netflix

Summary: Vampires do not have reflections, and castles do not have hearts. But Dracula is no ordinary vampire, and Castlevania is no ordinary castle. If castles can fight, maybe they can think too.

The series, and Adrian’s childhood, told from the perspective of the castle.

Chapter Summary: “‘Alucard’, they called me. The opposite of you. Mother never liked that. Did you know that? She hated the idea that I might define myself by you. Even in opposition to you. She loved us both. Enough that she wanted us to be our own people. Living our own lives. Making our own choices."

Chapter 3: “Alucard”

The castle doesn’t like it when Adrian leaves.

Adrian is a child of both worlds, so he must walk in the day every once and a while. He cannot stay in the castle, in the night, forever; he must travel outside the room, feel the sunlight without the glass. He must understand his mother’s people; his human half. A glass half full is a glass half empty, and he understands his duty to fill in the blanks where humanity is supposed to be.

Castlevania is unsure. Afraid, perhaps. It does not know much of humanity…but it does know that their blood tastes sweet, their words sound sour, their hands feel bitter. It knows they are not likely to treat the son of the vampire king with kindness.

It knows of only one human whose touch and words are sweet without taste.

If his mother can be kind… is it possible other humans can be too? Or does being a mother simply necessitate kindness? Is it possible there is more to them than sour speech and the bitter fists? That they are more than just something to fill its master’s appetite and quiet his boredom?

Lisa tells them all so. She gathers her family in the room, and tells them stories of knights and heroes, witches and villains. Of good kings, and evil priests. Of good gods, and evil queens. Of demons and zombies and the heroes who rose up against them—(and maybe Adrian can be one of them, some day). Of people who have nothing but manage to change the world anyways. Of people who have everything but are empty all the same—(that one started to sound a little too familiar). And not all of the stories are read out of books. Some are real, were history. Some she’d even seen herself. Some were told to her. She said she heard some of the most wonderful ones from a Speaker once. She even made some up. Until Adrian himself formed stories when she wasn’t there to tell them.

Dracula looks out the window at the rain, chuckles to himself at the fact that too many of her stories end happily…but something deep inside his eyes is trying, trying to believe her. To believe there’s truth to these stories, even those she made up. To let the light in her eyes flow into his. He tries to make up his own stories too, sometimes. But the darkness in his presence does its best to swallow the light in her words.

Adrian snuggles up beside her and the gleam in her eyes reflects in his without a second’s resistance. Enough that after a childhood of listening to these stories, begging for his parents to take him outside, he can barely wait to experience it himself.

That’s not to say he never left. She took him out on little trips, letting him take bites of the world out there. Each time he came back with treasures—(well what he considered treasures)—in his hands, and a grin secured firmly to his face, and he’d ask with voice bright and fast as a hummingbird, where they’d go out next, and how long he’d have to wait. Even his father took him out to the enchanted forests and grottos of the world for lessons, but always made sure they were the deepest, most well-kept secrets of the world, where no human would find them.

Well, most of the time. There were times when he came back with tears in his eyes. He’d ask What’s a ‘monster’?, and his father would lean down, put his hand on his cheek, and say Definitely not you. Lisa would plead or argue with her husband, but when Dracula would leave, the moon would turn red, and he’d remember what blood tasted like.

But this is different. This isn’t some day trip to come back with trinkets, some night lesson to come back with knowledge. The time it’s stretched out, and stretching them thin.

When he leaves and doesn’t come back that night… that morning…the next…the room tries to speak but finds there’s no breath in it, like it got the wind knocked out of it.

This is a different emptiness from what Castlevania was before. It isn’t a principal, not simply a fact of life. It is an absence. An absence of something living. An absence of a fact of life. A true emptiness in that the room was once full.

It doesn’t take long for the room to know what I miss you means; that absence creates ripples of yearning in its wake. That emptiness aches to be filled. It misses the games he played in the sunlight, it misses the lullabies, the drawings, counting the stars and sitting by the fire, the moments when the family would tell stories to the walls they didn’t know were listening.

It even misses the crying.

The clock tower’s ticking eats away at them from the inside.

And within the ticking, the room, the castle, wonder what the humans will do to him out there.

Will he be a monster in their eyes? An enemy, a beast, an ugly thing? Will they not see the light in his nature, rather the dark that nurtured him?

Will he be a cacophony to their ears, the screeches and howls of undead things, instead of the symphony they know his voice to be?

Will his blood be that of demons and beasts to their noses, and will they cast him out for not being human enough?

Will he be a toy in their hands, just as he played humans-and-vampires, just as he pretended to fight monsters with wooden swords?

…But he is alive, and living things ought not be played with, for they cannot be imagined into something they’re not.

And if he is a toy to them…what will they make of him? Will they imagine him as a human like them? Or will they imagine him into a monster he is not? Will they realize he is neither? Will they think he needs the night when he is perfectly fine in the day? What stories will they tell of him?

Castlevania has not met many humans. But those it has were prone to make monsters out of decent men, and weapons out of instruments of peace.

Will the humans’ mouths be forked and deadly as ever? Will their hands be weak and empty as ever? Will they assess him as fuel for their ever-greedy fire? Will they take the life—they who have so much of it—take the single life they have here, the one that brought it to them all—and crush it out of him, figuratively or literally?

Will they bully him, and scorn him, and lie to him, and cheat him and hate him and…hurt him?

The room twists and spirals in its thoughts, as if going down a hill, and throbs at the last word.

Or… says the castle softly, Will they welcome him? Will they understand him? Will they see him as we have? As he truly is? Will his light withstand the darkness in them? Can he bring life to these bloodthirsty beasts?

When Adrian returns, what—or who—will he be?

The castle and the room wonder, and wait, and question, and long for him as they are left in the dark, holding their breath until breath itself is but a fleeting memory.

They couldn’t say how long it had been since he left, it could have been a lifetime. But one day, as black and white as the rest, the morning comes with spreading color, and breath tumbles into the deepest corners of the room again.

They are equal parts nervous and eager to hear the stories he has to tell; for these monsters and men are more than toys.

And he does have stories to tell.

Out there, adventure exists in more than just books. Out there he can learn without charts and lectures; he can learn by doing, by experiencing. He can put to use, and to the test, all the spells and techniques he practiced indoors. Out there the scenes that were pictures before are real, are alive—the rain licks and the snow bites, the grass whispers as the wind sings its haunting melody, and the rivers join in response. Out there he can smell the trees, and flowers, the campfires, listen to the howls and chirps of the animals, and feel the sun on his skin without the glass to separate them. Taste the world. And out there the heroes and villains are animate too—he can speak to them, and won’t have to dream up their responses. He can make friends and enemies out of words and actions instead of wood and clay. Out there the threats, the demons and monsters are real too, and he has to fight them with something sharp—be it his pen or his sword. Out there, imagination is a weapon against reality. Out there he doesn’t have to imagine his world to life because it already is. And he is alive in it…this is his life that he is finally living.

That is what a life is. The idea echoes in the room.

(If this is a life…are we alive? The room asks.

Alive isn’t the same as life. Castlevania mutters softly, and doesn’t explain.)

And, amongst all the adventures they learn that while he walked the world a spell, his mother’s people gave him a new name:

“Alucard.”

Alucard. The reverse of Dracula.

They looked at him, they listened to him, they spent time with him and they understood—(breathe again and be still, they understood)—they understood that he was not the dark and the cold and the death his father is. In fact, they thought that he was so different from his father that this reversal must be his name.

The room is proud of him, happy for him, relieved, for this was its purpose, its hope. Relieved to have him back—more full of life and light than ever.

Lisa, while always proud of him, doesn’t like the name. She named him after all, it makes sense that she wouldn’t appreciate a dismissal of the name she chose. But…there’s more to it than that. She doesn’t want him to be defined by his father. She doesn’t want him to be a difference, a reverse. She wants him to be himself. Him and his father to be different people. She wants them to be themselves; not dividends, fractured pieces of one another put back together in different orders.

(But aren’t we all fractured pieces of each other? Don’t we take fragments of each other to make up ourselves?)

This is a strange thought to Castlevania, for it has always been defined by Dracula, and never minded, but perhaps mirrors ought not mind their reflectors. Adrian is no mirror. Still, the castle has always compared the boy to his father. The room was always meant to be the opposite of the Dracula, of his castle. The boy’s very existence has always spelled the reverse of everything they knew. Its only fitting the boy would be a reversal of his father.

‘Adrian’ is a nice name…but ‘Alucard’ fits like a tailored suit.

Adrian likes the world. Makes sense, he likes the sun, the day, the mirrors, the books, the stories, the people.

But what doesn’t make as much sense, and what’s more important, is the world likes him. At first its strange, but as the castle thinks about it more it makes sense; they may have come with pitchforks before, because they didn’t like Dracula. …But Alucard is not Dracula.

The room breathes deep, more alive than ever. And, as its master returns, tells his story, the room learns too.

Castlevania may be able to move for its master, but the room is stuck in its place. It cannot see the rest of the world like the boy can. It understands now that Alucard being different from Dracula also means that he cannot stay inside like his father does. That though it hurts when he leaves, the room can never be everything he needs the way the castle can for Dracula. That he is made for something bigger than four walls…even if those four walls were part of what made him.

It understands that breath cannot be a constant for it. That its master will leave, and the room will be hollow and ache for certain periods of time. This is a fact of life. This is what living is.

But it also understands that he will always come back. This isn’t something it reasoned or multiplied out. This is just something it knows within the oldest parts of it; that they will never be apart forever.

Now that the room is alive within the castle it will always be its own existence. Even if it’s empty, even if it gets broken and battered, it will always be the universe they built for him, a universe can’t be destroyed by mortal hands. It can never be fully erased as long as Alucard lives.

(…And Castlevania understands that is dangerous.)

The room understands that though life was always a stagnant thing for the castle, it is more dynamic and elusive for it. It will go through periods where there is nothing in that room, and the emptiness will throb, but in the same way that Alucard has the kind of life Dracula could never have, the room will have the kind of life the castle could never have.

The room’s breath will ever be catching itself and falling, like a dance, as if always during the most exiting part of a story.

[thefanficmonster]

Never Satisfied [Chapter 8]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“reality may be better than a dream“

He isn’t sure when he woke back up or how long it had been since he fell asleep, but his cheek is squished up against something and he is in a horizontal position. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, realizing he is staring past the edge of a pair of tanned legs decorated with thin black lines of fishnets which are also digging into his cheek. His eyes widen, lips parting a tiny bit when he realizes he’d tipped over in his sleep, laying his head on Cora’s hip. His hand had slid from her cheek and curled against the back of her neck, cradling her head in his palm. He swallows hard, unsure if he should move and risk waking her up or stand as still as he possibly can. On one hand, he doesn’t want her thinking he willingly invaded her personal space, but then again she’s bound to find out, seeing as how moving would result in waking her up and if he remained in his current position, she’s still gonna wake up sooner or later and find him awkwardly looking at her, silently praying she doesn’t lose her cool at him.

What is a guy to do?

Her arms are still wrapped snugly around his thigh, sleeping peacefully in the dark room illuminated only by the Netflix menu. 

It must be later than I thought, he thinks to himself as he stretches his free leg out to his phone, tapping the screen with his sock covered toe to discover it’s 6:48pm. Jesus, we’ve slept for almost two hours. 

The sun is still glowing but is now significantly lower in the sky, indicating they’d have a little bit of daylight left but it would be quick to slip past them if Cora doesn’t wake up anytime soon. What if she wanted to leave before it got dark? I should probably wake her up, no? I mean, there’s also the possibility that she didn’t and I’d just be disturbing her for no reason and I of course don’t want that….Ugh, fuck, why is something this simple so complicated?!

Doing his best not to jostle her, Corpse carefully pushes himself up using his hands which he’s propped up on the back of the couch. Once upright, he carefully eases his hand out from under her head and brushes a few stray dark locks away from her face where they had formed a curtain over her closed eyes. His voice cracks as he tries to speak so it comes out more as an unsure murmur. 

“Cora. Hey, come on, wake up.” He whispers, trying to be gentle as he nudges her shoulder. 

She lets out a soft distressed noise at the fact that someone dared to interrupt her sleep. Her arms tighten around his leg and she rubbed her cheek into his thigh, indicating that he’s not going anywhere with this mellowness, 

“Mmm...five more minutes…” she mutters, making his cheeks burn as she snuggles up even tighter into him.  

With a defeated sigh he leans back, fixating his gaze on the TV and smiles a tiny bit, feeling that by now familiar, warm sensation in his chest and stomach - the one he feels whenever he takes her hand or gets a text from her. “Alright, five minutes.” He settles, leaning back further on the couch, unlocking his phone, beginning to browse Instagram quietly and then checking his email afterwards. 

He soon finds he’s lost track of time but eventually it definitely starts feeling like more than five minutes have passed, and so Corpse decides to take some action. Bowing his head down, he shakes her shoulder again. “Alright, come on, Sleeping Beauty, it's time to get up. I’m hungry and I gotta pee and I’m done with being held hostage.”

Her head tips slightly to the side, eyes still closed as she turns to face the ceiling. A sly little smirk dances on her lips before it falls when she goes back to pretending to be consumed by her blissful slumber. Her voice arises from her throat as a playful whisper, 

“Something-something can only be awoken with the kiss of a strong knight.” 

Corpse feels his stomach do a backflip and his face starts burning as the color of his cheeks, ears and neck switches to a bright shade of red, eyes growing wide when he registers what she just said. “I’m...um-...” He stutters, his throat suddenly dry and coarse as sandpaper.

Cora opens one eye just a slit, spotting his frantic blushing before closing it again. “Or even just a dude lost in the woods if the knight is unavailable.”

He swallowed again, desperately trying to fish out any words and let them leave his mouth. Despite his attempts to calm himself down, his hands go clammy and his heart has taken to hitting the inside of his ribcage with the intensity of an angry dragon, threatening to break through and leave his body. 

She isn’t really suggesting this, right? It’s a joke, it has to be. Haha, make Corpse look like a dumbass, won’t that be hilarious.

Interrupting his thoughts, one of her hands squeezes the back of his knee while the other comes up to link her pinky finger with his own. He stares down at her, flustered as all hell, catching that one eye open again. His face is the epitome of questioning, puzzled and….hopeful? He can’t afford to be getting hopeful, not when there’s still the option that she’s messing with him. That’s why he has to know. His eyes are begging her to tell him what’s going on here or if there’s anything going on at all. He wants her to either break this magic or carry it out completely to where it’s enveloped and surrounded them both. He wants something, anything, even the tiniest signal from her, just to put his mind at ease and his racing heart to rest.

His breath hitches when Cora slides her hand out from under his leg. Defeat spreads throughout his chest like a wildfire when he thinks she’s about to pull away. 

I knew it! I knew she’s just fucking around, she’d never w-!

His brain stops firing neurons of panic when he feels a hand rest on the back of his neck and he suddenly realizes he’s being pulled down slightly, the figure across his lap raising to connect their lips halfway. 

He freezes, eyes wide and nearly watering in panic at the sudden contact that he was far from prepared for. However, Cora wouldn’t be Cora if she just let him sit there and panic so she immediately reacts, squeezing his hand so that his instincts would kick in. When they finally do, his hand comes up to gently cup her face, allowing himself to melt into the kiss. He kisses her slowly, savoring the feeling of her lips against his - warm and soft against his chapped ones. His thumb brushes slowly across her cheekbone, subconsciously memorizing every spot and tiny line etched into her skin. 

She’s the first to pull back but they don’t stay apart for long seeing as how she’s quick to sit up higher and press her lips back against his, hand cradling his head as both their bodies buzz with heat. His arm automatically wraps around her torso, the palm of his hand resting on her back to keep her close, deepening the kiss.

His chest is aching with happiness, eyes brimmed with tears of joy and relief he hopes won’t spill for her to see. He just can’t help himself, it all feels so overwhelming and surreal. The feeling that he’s had living within him since their lunch date has finally fallen into place. It finally makes sense and he can finally be at peace with it. That’s the biggest relief he’s felt in a long while. She’s his check point, his safe haven and his relief. She’s become so much to him in such a short amount of time. It goes without saying she’s incredibly special.

He draws back after a moment and inhales shakily, his whole body shaking in shock. 

“Holy shit.” He whispers, eyes wide as he carefully moves his hands away from her face. 

Cora’s cheeks are pink as she smiles faintly and nods in agreement. “Sorry...I hope that was okay.” She mumbles, looking away shyly but not for long. Corpse tilts her head, turning it to face him once again as he leans in to press his lips firmly against hers, eyes closing slowly yet again. She brings her body closer to his and Corpse could swear he felt the Earth stop spinning. The rest of the world has stopped existing. Nothing matters but this moment, right now. This kiss shared between them, this contact between them, addictive like a drug.

They spend a few minutes just kissing slowly, enjoying every second of it, savoring it with a small fear they might never repeat this though they really hope they do. 

He alternates between cupping her cheek and neck to holding her hands. The whole experience is just so warm and deep and meaningful, but tame at the same time. They don’t dissolve into a frantic mess, they kept their pace, moving in sync, reminding each other that this is not a dream. This is better than any dream could ever be.

He breaks away first, his heart still beating rapidly in his chest. “Do-...do you need to go home?” He blurts out softly, fingers laced with hers, the question so out of place for the setting.

“Oh, is my kissing so bad you want to kick me out?” She asks with a smile so small but so bright it warms him internally. 

He laughs a deep breathy laugh, looking at her with affection. He can't help it, he’s intoxicated by her. Before, it would have been a totally different experience for him: frantic backpedaling on what he’d said but something feels...good with her here. It feels so right and it keeps him grounded in the current moment, refusing to allow him running the conversation and events back in his head.

“No, you’re perfect…” he admits softly, a little anxious with those words but accepting them as truth because that’s what they are. “I just thought….”

“Is that what that burning smell is?” She teases again, perhaps hiding her own nervousness behind jokes, before she kisses him softly. 

“I thought, if you wanted to stay the night....I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.” He manages to say, pulling away from her briefly, the backs of his fingers drawing a soft line across her cheek. He pulls away further suddenly, realizing that may be a bit too romantic. They just kissed, and still haven’t spent such a big amount of time together. With these thoughts in mind, he hurries to add: “If not, it’s okay…”

She’s quick to shake her head, dismissing his worries, “I want to stay, but you’re not sleeping on the couch. What, are you afraid I’ll give you cooties?” She teases, squeezing his hands and leaning in to affectionately headbutt his shoulder. 

He smiled and winds his arms around her in a tight hug, releasing her when she pulls away. “Alright, but I’m hungry, and I still need to piss.” He declares, standing up and stretching to loosen and relax his stiff joints, starting to make his way to the bathroom. “Think about what you want for dinner!”

@fockingwhore  @vixenl  @annshit  @wineandionysus  @wiseflamingoqueen

[thebiscuiteternal]

“A Bird in the Hand” Friendship <3, Mutual Interests (Sorta Not Really), Hidden Identities, Kidnapping, The Ship Is A Huge Spoiler Sorry

__________

Having decided he was going to lose his mind if he had to listen to the constant chatter about scores and techniques for one more moment, Nie Huaisang quietly slips out of the dining hall and heads out into the early evening air.

Just a little time to himself to clear his head, that’s all he needs. A short walk, and then he’ll go back. If Da-ge gets upset about him wandering off here… well, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. 

Movement in the bush next to him startles him a little, but not enough for him to miss that the small reddish-pink form darting out of the leaves is flying very oddly.

Wing damage at the very least, he calculates. If he doesn’t intervene, it’s probably going to be a predator’s meal soon.

Concern replaces his earlier exasperation; he changes course from the path he’d been planning to take and begins tracking where it might land next instead. 

---

The erratic flight pattern makes his task a little more difficult, but there is still a bit of light left in the sky when he finally snares the wounded and bedraggled puff of feathers -a rosefinch, one he hasn’t ever seen this particular color and pattern of- and very gently deposits it in his lap. 

“Shh, you’ll be fine,” he soothes, carefully rubbing the poor thing’s cheek with a fingertip to calm it down before reaching into his sleeve for his usual pouch of supplies. “See? I’m here to help.”

Once the bird is gorging itself -no, himself- on seeds, he begins inspecting and carefully cleaning the injuries. He was right about the wing, plus there are nasty cuts to a leg and another to the neck. Claw marks, most likely. “Poor darling, you must have just escaped a cat,” he coos softly as he takes out thread and thin strips of cloth.

“Interesting.”

Nie Huaisang only just barely manages to avoid jostling his patient when he jumps slightly at the unexpected new voice, then freezes when he turns his head to find a young man wearing red and white robes. “Ah! I’m sorry if I entered a restricted area, I just-”

“It’s fine,” the Wen stranger says with a smile. “You haven’t left the guest territories yet.”

“Oh… good. That’s good.” The rosefinch cheeps in his lap and pecks his hand and he looks down and clicks his tongue as he resumes threading the needle he’s holding. “Demanding now that I’ve been nice enough to feed you, aren’t you?”

“May I observe while you work?”

He doesn’t hear the Wen disciple move at all, so when he looks up and finds the young man standing barely a step away, he has to restrain himself from scooting away on reflex. “Er- I suppose? Most people don’t want to,” he says, watching as his new companion takes a seat on a rock next to him.

Up close, there is something slightly unnerving about him. It's the same feeling he notices when Da-ge is trying to intimidate people around him less, like there's something big and dangerous being forced into a too-small hide.

Nie Huaisang swallows and ducks his head, reaching into the supply pouch to produce more seeds for his patient. He finishes prepping the needle and gently coaxes the rosefinch into a better position, feeling an intense gaze on him all the while as he begins the first neat, tight stitches. The bird makes an unhappy noise of pain, but more seeds and petting keeps him from attempting to escape and he only cheeps grumpily to himself as Nie Huaisang works.

"You're very skilled to make it trust you so easily."

Despite himself, he feels his face heat at the rare compliment. Though Da-ge and their cousin Nie Zonghui often try not to get bored whenever they visit the aviary, the only person who’d ever actually been interested in watching this sort of thing was-

He bites his lip and shoves that thought aside. “It’s a lot of practice in patience, mostly,” he says as he finishes with the leg and turns his attention to the wounds that might need to have feathers clipped for proper treatment. “You have to learn how they work, how to follow them without getting them so stressed they accidentally hurt themselves worse, observing flight patterns, all that.”

“Seems like a lot of effort to put in for someone who so infamously avoids it.”

Nie Huaisang stiffens, then forces himself to calm down.

Stupid. He’s wearing Qinghe colors and this disciple probably just saw him hanging around Da-ge. He’s not hard to identify, and his reputation… well.

Still, the unease lingers, though he tries to shake it off by remaining focused on his task. By now the rosefinch is comfortable enough with him that he’s able to gently remove some damaged and bloody feathers. “I just… I like doing this. That’s all.”

“Understandable. A reward only counts as a reward if you want it.”

It’s gotten dark enough for people in the buildings down the path to begin lighting their lanterns, but he’s well-acquainted with working in such conditions. He finishes the neck and wing injuries quickly, the strange disciple remaining in his spot for the duration. 

“There we go, all ready to get better,” he croons sweetly, coaxing the finch to his shoulder, where the bird snuggles into his collar. 

An elegant hand reaches into his view. “May I?” the disciple asks.

“If he’ll let you,” Nie Huaisang says, tilting his head to give space. The rosefinch is having none of it, however, and ducks to hide under his hair with a grouchy little squawk, tiny claws pricking at the nape of his neck. “Or not. Sorry about that.”

The other man’s lips curve in amusement as he draws his hand back. “It’s fine. Patience, as you said.”

Nie Huaisang begins packing up his pouch. The unease from before has faded into a more readily ignored feeling, especially since the disciple hasn’t actually done anything to deserve it. “Do you want to walk back to the pavilion? Da-ge won’t be happy if I stay out much longer. He’s probably not happy with me for staying out this long already, actually.”

“I appreciate the offer,” the other man says as he stands and needlessly dusts his clothing. “But I live in a different part of the compound.” Another smile, slow and interested in a way that makes Nie Huaisang’s face grow warm again. “There are still two more days left in the tournament. Perhaps we’ll cross paths another time.”

“Ah- well- shouldn’t I know your name, then? You already know mine.”

The strange disciple bows, smooth and sharp, not even a fold of cloth wrong. “This humble one is simply Han-er. I look forward to our next meeting, Nie-er, gongzi.”

It is only later, after Nie Huaisang has returned to his own room with the rosefinch, that he realizes somewhere the ‘perhaps’ had become a certainty.

---

They do cross paths again, more than once, in fact. 

After the second encounter, Nie Huaisang can’t help but notice that Han-er always seems to find him when he’s entirely alone. 

A spy, maybe? 

Maybe not. He’s been keeping track, and Han-er has never asked him anything particularly pointed about Da-ge or their cousin or anything about them that might be considered ‘vital information’, just the occasional offhand curiosity about their relationship dynamics. Their sects may be on bad terms -very bad terms- but Han-er has been nothing but polite.

By the time of their fourth meeting, he feels guilty for ever having had such suspicious thoughts about the man.

“And how is Minsheng doing this morning?”

“Besides being crushed under the weight of such an auspicious name?” Nie Huaisang asks cheekily, earning another of those amused smiles.

“You cannot deny he has earned it.”

He can’t, really. Once no longer in constant pain, Minsheng has become chatty enough that the finch has received at least one threat of being roasted and eaten.  “He’s recovering at a good pace. I worry about taking him home, though. With the differing climate, he’ll be miserable while his feathers are growing back in.”

Han-er inclines his head and looks away. “Why not leave him with me?” he asks after some consideration. “I do not have your experience, true, but our time has been... enlightening. And he likes me well enough, now.”

It’s… not a bad idea, really. If Nie Huaisang changes the bandages again just before he leaves, all that should be left to do surgery-wise would be to remove the stitches, and he’s seen that Han-er has a steady enough hand for that… “I can draw up some notes for you this afternoon and deliver them and Minsheng before the closing ceremony, would that be alright?”

“Perfect.”

---

He doesn’t actually see Han-er again before his sect departs to go home to Qinghe, having been forced to leave Minsheng and his notes with a guard who’d smirked at him in an extremely discomforting way. It brings back the troubled feeling lurking in the back of his head and leaves him unsure whether he’s unhappy to have missed the meeting, or somehow relieved. 

When word comes several days later that the Cloud Recesses have been burned, he decides on relief.

---

His stomach churns unhappily in a mix of unsatisfied hunger and nausea as they’re dismissed back to their cells after another day of grueling work and so very little food. Each step feels like he’s trying to slog through knee deep mud, and by the time he makes it to their designated hallway, he’s starting to feel dizzy.

Something… something’s wrong. Had the food been spoiled? But no, no one else seems to be...

“Young master?” asks one of the other Nie disciples.

“I’m fine,” he lies, even as it feels like the floor rolls under him like the deck of a boat.

He falls and doesn’t remember hitting the ground.

When he opens his eyes again, the disorientation persists. Something noisy is going on nearby and whatever he’s lying on, it’s too comfortable to be the paper-thin pallet mattress he’d been subjected to for over a week.

This isn’t his cell… Where…?

What is that noise?

Confused, head swimming, he tries to sit up and finds that his hands have been bound behind his back. Before he can start to panic, gentle hands squeeze his shoulders and assist him in rolling over. 

He dimly registers that the sound he’s hearing is the chattering of a bird.

But why would there be a bird-?

A familiar figure leans over him, long fingers sweeping his hair out of his face and down his cheek in an affectionate caress. For the briefest moment, he is grateful to see the face of… perhaps not a friend, but at least someone he knows.

Then ice cold terror seizes his insides when his eyes register the crown on the man’s head.

The Eternal Sun.

“Tell me, little bird,” Wen Ruohan says, smile sharp as a knife’s edge and gaze hungry. “Was I patient enough?”

__________

((Author Note: Okay, so, like, if I’m not remembering wrong, Novel!Ruohan is described as ridiculously young-looking because of his high cultivation. Like, we’re talking 19-ish even though he and Jin Guangshan are the only Great Sect leaders who have at least one fully adult child at the time of the Phoenix Mountain competition. So I thought, what if he leaned in to it? Suckered the other sects by having an older proxy take his place at meetings and conferences so that no one actually knows what he looks like except for some of the Wen Sect’s inner circle?))