#and now I’m just rambling in the tags instead of writing and it’s bed time cause I gotta be a morning person now

[letstrywritingmaybe]

I’m trying to write the next part of the sibling verse and I’m a little undecided over how things should go… so I’m thinking maybe I should just try and start the lying verse instead. I’ll edit the first part of the POV series later, I’m planning for a lunar new year update since it’ll be my day off. But we’ll see. I should also edit my Valentine’s Day ficlets too… I’ve not been on it at all writing wise with being busy amongst other issues… also trying to talk myself out of a big purchase but I’m kinda the worst at that cause I’m all about experiences and it’s literally on my bucket list! There’s a reason why I keep saying I’m self indulgent as hell, in all aspects of my life I’m like this *sigh the problem with being an impulsive fangirl with no chill. I’m supposed to be a responsible adult and I do not act like it

Just an addition, yo this lie verse is so typical lots of love vibes, like this is all my fics. Literally, I say this as if I don’t write fics that are like my vibe, but still. I’m just reading through my overall outline and I’m like this is what I was thinking??? Definitely very reminiscent of when I started this writing thing. Which means I hope I can keep it short, but also I’m impatient which is why I fail. I never wrote it cause too many other ideas but also cause I’m so bad at executing my visions cause I’m too impatient! Basically what I’m trying to say is, authors who can write slow burn well and keep things not super sappy I applaud you cause I could never. My brand really is just a fangirl with a bunch of ideas she speeds through cause she cannot keep focus and do it justice completely. And this is why I could never do this professionally, it’s an art and I’ve definitely not mastered it. Not even close

Unrelated thought that I’m just gonna let sit for a moment cause I don’t wanna get into it, but I’m generally curious over what the rest of the shippers think about the level of attraction between them and how extreme it can be. Cause I have my extreme of toxic as hell and girl you need run via the adoption divergent of the marriage verse. But generally I prefer softness and it’s what I typically write. But some fics I read make me want to explore the more extreme side… okay for real gonna go to bed now. Nighty night 😘🩵🌙

Update: I’ve sorta edited the valentines event ficlets and I’ve finally settled on a summary of sorts for the lie verse. And I wrote one whole sentence! Tomorrow I’ll have to edit the pov verse. I’m still unsure over the sibling verse, so it’s on the back burner. It’s a good thing I never make promises to update regularly cause I’m the worst at that

Update 2: I’ve started the lie verse and I’m undecided how long each chapter should be? Cause I also don’t know how many chapters there will be either??? Decisions, decisions… I’m 1.5k into chapter one and I’m at a good stopping point… but idk.

[wonderlandwalker]

Nurse Nightingale | James Potter x Reader

Marauders Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Someone wakes you up in the middle of the night, when you realize it's James looking for help you don't have the heart to refuse him

Content Warnings/Tags: fluff, blood, bruising, cuts, mentions of violence, insinuations of smut

Word Count: 1k

A/n: I'm currently using the uni holiday as an excuse not to study so now I'm writing non-stop instead. Not quite smut but sorta if you're willing to squint

*Knock knock*

You turn around, looking at the clock on the bedside table. Who the hell is knocking on the door at 3 AM?

*Knock knock*

You turn onto your stomach, pushing your pillow over your head in an attempt to block out the noise.

*Knock knock*

It’s louder this time, more determined, and you hear someone speak: “Y/N, it’s me. Please let me in.” He’s rambling a bit, he sounds tired as well. A shiver goes through your body at hearing his voice, his voice always seems to mess with your head in a way nothing else can.

“What are you doing here James? It’s 3 AM.” You ask, through the still closed door, your voice dripping with sleep. “Just, please, open the door..” He sounds desperate this time, so you decide to do what he asks. You stand up, maybe a little too fast, making your head spin, and walk towards the door. You open it, meaning to step aside to let him in, but when you see him illuminated by the hallway, you freeze. He’s bleeding, a cut starting at his nose and going diagonally underneath his eye, he’s straightened his glasses but there's a crack in them, another bruise at his temple, one on his lips, those soft lips you always think about, even a bruise below his ear on his cheek masking his jawline. “What in Merlin’s name happened to you?” You hear yourself whisper, more at yourself than him. “It’s nothing..” he slures out “.. just wanted to see you.” You move aside to let him into the empty room and he takes the opportunity, walking towards the bed, but not before grabbing you by your waist and giving you a quick, but passionate kiss. He takes you by surprise with it, your mind still trying to wrap around what happened, and your body falls into him, making him hiss from the cut on his upper lip, but he doesn't seem to want to stop regardless.

He sits down on your bed when he breaks the kiss, and you turn on the bedside lamp to get a better look at him. Small bruises are forming on his arms, and his muscles seem strained, his exhausted body melting into the bedding.

“Lay down, I’ll be right back.” you mumble at him before moving to the other side of your room where you left your wand. After a little searching, you find it, but with how tired you are, you’re not sure how much you trust yourself with it. You remember the small first aid kit in your bathroom, and move to get it before making your way back to James.

You see him struggling to take his jumper off, and move over to help him with it. Once it’s off he moves to lie down, and you put some extra pillows under his head, making him sit up a little more before pouring the sterilizer on a towel. You look over at him again, and wonder about how you’re going to do this, when you see him stretch his arm out to you. You take his hand and he pulls you onto his lap, making you straddle him and giving me the perfect position to patch him up.

You look at his chest, covered in blooming bruises, and when the towel hits the few open wounds, he groans a little, instinctively moving his hands to your hips to ground himself. His eyes are closed, and even though he looks like he should be in pain, he seems relaxed.

He stays quiet the whole time, only the occasional hiss or groan leaving him. And when you’re done, having put everything back in its proper place, he asks you silently: “Can I please stay over” “Of course you can, I’m not letting you wander back in this state.” you tell him while moving to lie down beside him. He doesn’t seem satisfied though, and pulls you in even closer.

After a few more minutes of silence, you ask him: “Jamie, what the hell happened to you..?” “It’s, it’s nothing, really, just-" He seems a little hesitant, so you wait for him to continue. “There, there were these guys…” He sounds a little angry, but you still don’t know what he’s talking about. “Do you remember the party that was going on, earlier tonight?” “Of course I do.” you tell him. You had gotten tired early, and decided to head to bed while the others stayed a while longer. “Well, turns out some of the Slytherins had noticed you, and they were talking about you.” He seems even angrier now, you remember this look, it’s similar to the look he got when he lost the Quidditch house cup, except this seems more personal somehow. “They were talking about you, telling their stuck-up friends all the things he would do to you- calling you names and saying how he-” you see him clench his fists, his knuckles turning white. “He was telling them how he would-, bloody hell, I can’t even get it out of my mouth. But I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I, well, I may have punched him.” “You did what?” you ask him, not fully wanting to believe what he’s telling you. Sure, he get detention often enough, but never for fist fights, he doesn't get in fist fights. “I punched him, and I got into a fight with him and his friends.” The hesitance is back now, replacing his anger. “I’m sorry y/n, but I couldn’t stand him saying those kinds of things about you.” You smile a little, and he looks confused. “You got into a fight to defend my honour, Potter?” Your smile only growing. He only nods and you don’t hesitate to lean in, kissing him softly. You can still taste the blood on his tongue, but you don’t care, and he doesn’t seem to either.

You shift over, and he pulls you in to straddle his lap once again. You give him a quiet “I love you” in between kisses. He doesn’t need to say it back this time, his actions having spoken louder than words.

[y13evie]

Hi so I saw that you are open to write for house md and I'd like to ask for a chase fic. Like reader is house's kid and either works at the hospital too or gets admitted there but also knows chase and is in a relationship with him. Plot can be fluffy, smutty and/ or angsty I don't really care but I'd like to know how house would react if he sees them interact etc.

Idk if you see this or like the idea but I wish you the best and I really like your fics

hiiiiii anon!! i love this idea sm and i LOVE ROBERT CHASE WITH MY WHOLE HEARTT. dad house is so sweet and cutesy. i tried my best for u

tags: robert chase x houses kid! reader, one use of y/n, house is stubborn but loves u, just fluff

this is embarrassing. never in your twenty-five years of life would you imagine yourself in the hospital that both your father and boyfriend work at. yet here you are, with a 4 cm laceration on your right hand. the triage nurse had just sent you off and notified you that a doctor will be with you shortly. from your room window you could see dr foreman patting a familiar face on the back, probably saying something along the lines of “this case is yours bud”.

as soon as chase read the report he hurriedly rushed into your room. you shot him a sheepish grin and lifted up your hand to reveal the gash.

“my god, y/n”, he sat down next to you and took your hand gently into his gloved one and inspected the wound. he looked up at you, as if asking for an explanation.

“maybe i shouldn’t garden alone. i picked up this clay pot. the way it was sitting had been bothering me for a couple days now. i’m guess i’m not as strong as i thought i was because i dropped it and as it shattered, it cut me up pretty good.”

chase sighed at your stubbornness, something that had drawn him into you since early in your relationship. he took one of his gloves off and gently stroked your hair. he rambled on about how you should really be more careful and call him if you needed anything too laboring done. you weren’t listening. you were staring into those blue eyes. you weren’t into all that cheesy romance stuff but god, those eyes are stunning. your moment was quickly put to an end when harsh tapping could be heard from outside your window. you knew that sound from anywhere.

“you decided to be the one to doctor on MY kid”

house, or dad as you call him, hastily shuffles into your room and gives you both a judgemental look. robert rolls his eyes,

“foreman gave me the case first, i'm just doin’ my job”.

house hobbles over to check your vitals even though it’s a minor issue compared to what they deal with on a daily basis. you know your dad loves you and cares but he’s not the best at verbally expressing it. you knew he would probably just sit there and observe, so you turn back around to your extremely, worried boyfriend.

“soooo” you drag out the ‘oh’ sound, to show him you’re not worried. “whatcha doin after work handsome?”. chase runs a hand through his blonde hair and lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“i was planning to go on a cute and sweet date with you, but instead i’m gonna be dr. chase for another 12 hours”.

he sounded tired but you knew he was more than happy to care for his darling. just as you two were planning out your evening, your father and robert’s pagers began harmonizing. chase gives a quick but passionate kids to your temple. house makes his gag be known, sticking a finger in his mouth for dramatic effect.

your dad lingers in the room for a moment, giving your shoulder a squeeze. it’s still gonna take time for him to adjust to the fact his child is dating his co-worker. but you’re not his little baby anymore and he knows it.

when he heads out his parting words are,

“i’ll have someone stitch you up kid, stay put”.

you lean back in the bed and continue to add pressure to your wounded hand. a few minutes pass and your sweet boyfriend stops by again. and takes a seat at the stool beside your bed. he has the tools to stitch up your hand. to distract you from the pain, chase sparks a conversation.

“your old man..” he chews the inside of his cheek. you know exactly what he’s gonna ask. “does he like me? and not as a co-worker. does he think i’m a good fit for his kid?”. your heart sank at the thought of robert thinking he’s not enough. truth is, your dad did like him. though he would never admit it, the fact robert makes you happy, makes your dad happy. he’s real bad at showing it, but you know it’s true.

“he’s a grump, chase. he likes you. he might never admit it. but the fact he hasn’t beaten you to death with that cane of his really says something.”. you can tell your reassurance helped. you loved robert, and he loved you too. before you knew it the stitches were finished. he pulled out a sling from a cabinet so you won’t irritate the stitches too much.

“hey, i’ll get your discharge papers. we’ll have you out of here soon”.

chase pressed a kiss to your lips this time, and he stayed there for a minute. hand on your jaw to keep you steady. you moved your lips in unison, running your free hand through his hair. a sharp pain stabbed your hand and caused you to pulled away and gasp. he reminded you to take some pain medication once home.

before he headed out the door, robert whips around and sternly demands,

“i don’t ever wanna see you in here again.”

[fxlling13]

Because Of You

Part 2.

Dh!Master x fem reader

Part 1

Synopsis: you finally get away from the doctor.

Warning: bad language. Blood. Pain

(A/N: so I decided to write part 2 haha. And in a different pov. Just ahead of this weekend obviously)

After another harrowing adventure, it was safe to say you were exhausted. And now the master was banned from tagging along. Apparently he’d become dangerous again. In reality, you knew the doctor was still bitter over your bond. Plus, it gave him alone time to plot an escape. He knew where his tardis was, it was just getting there. Before you had chance to find him, the doc stopped you and announced she had somewhere else to take the two of you. Yaz was thrilled, smiling as the blonde began to ramble.

“I’m tired.” You spoke softly, hoping for some understanding. At that moment, all you wanted was your bed. After spending the past five hours constantly running, that’s exactly what you needed. That and a bath. Instead, the doctor rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“I’m not stupid (y/n). I know that you’re just going to find the master.” You sighed tiredly, rubbing your eyes. Not having the energy to argue, you just shrugged.

“I wasn’t but never mind. Let’s go.”

Oh how you wished you could have stood up for yourself more. As you were hiding behind a large stack of crates, your heart was pounding and your ears ringing. The doctor and yaz were nowhere in sight. They had fled without a second thought. So here you were, listening as heavy footsteps grew louder and you knew you had to get out. Pulling yourself up, you dashed for the door and found a padlock. Great.

“Human life sign detected.” A robotic voice echoed around the metallic room and your blood ran cold. Having no other choice, you smashed the lock with your fists and ran through the door. Sadly, there were armed guards ready which meant your legs carried on. On the other hand, their weapons were knives so easier to evade. Saying that, one managed to snag your shoulder as you rounded a sharp corner. Quite literally. Seeing the tardis, you threw yourself inside with urgency and slammed the door.

“There you are!” Yaz yelled, but not with relief. Turning round, you gaped for air as your lungs were burning.

“The hell did you go! We’ve been waiting here like idiots. Couldn’t you keep up?” The doctor was almost screaming, storming over to you with purpose. Now confused, you rested against the wooden doors to steady yourself.

“We had the right to just fly off and leave you there!”

“Then why didn’t you? It’s not my fault, you abandoned me. I told you I was tired.” You spoke through heavy breathing, adrenaline wearing off. Once again, the doctor rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“You love to make excuses up huh? I hate liars.” Everything caught up to you, your anger becoming too much. Harshly, you shoved the blonde back.

“You think I’m lying? Look at me!” Yaz was quick to go to the doctor, holding her close.

“I’m covered in blood! Because you left me alone with a set of killer robots!” You shouted in a fit of rage. And you were right. Your hand was balled up, each knuckle wounded. Your shoulder had a large gash to go with this, the pain becoming more apparent each second. Huffing, you pushed past them weakly and began to walk up the stairs before stopping. Turning back to the two women, you pressed your lips together before speaking.

“He would never let me get hurt.” Your words hit the doctor hard and Yaz had to keep her restrained as you left. Once around the corner and down the corridor, your lip began to tremble and your body grew weaker. Suddenly, you felt hands land on your shoulders and gazed up only to instantly relax. The master peered down at you with worry. You succumbed to your needs and fell into his chest with ease. Your body wracked with sobs and the man holding you tightened his grip.

“Hey hey. It’s okay sweets.” Hooking his hands under your arms, he picked you up effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist and you clung on weakly.

“I’ve got you now.” The masters voice was low and gentle, his hand running along your back. You faintly heard him mutter ‘hold on’ before your head began to spin. More than it already was. Everything was hazy, falling in and out of consciousness. You barely registered what your body was feeling. But you could make out the press of the masters lips to your temple. Then everything went black.

The doctor stood in the console room, messing around with the controls. She could feel eyes boring into the back of her head and sighed.

“What do you want?” She sounded bored, turning to face the master. He strolled over, jacket long gone and hands tucked into his pockets.

“You haven’t noticed.” Was all he said, standing right in front of her. The doctor furrowed her brows, casting her eyes around.

“What?” He just chuckled at her not knowing and aimlessly walked around the console.

“You and (y/n) had a pretty heated fight I see.”

“Only because you have corrupted her.” Scoffing, the male leant against a pillar and tilted his head.

“No I haven’t. And you know I haven’t. That’s what’s driving you mad.” He slowly took a step towards the blonde with a smile on his lips.

“You can’t stand that she chose me over you.” He chuckled, running his tongue along his teeth. Pulling his hand out, he twirled it round in the air with expression.

“And to make things worse for your overworked brain, it kills you that she loves me. Doesn’t it?” The doctors nostrils flared with rage, nails digging into her palm as the master continued on.

“And I love her. The one human you can’t have. Because she’s mine.” He finished, smiling smugly.

The Doctor went to slap him but he grabbed her wrist with force. They stared each other down, him finding intense joy at her upset. Laughing, the master moved away and head up the steps.

“What is it then? What haven’t I noticed?” The doctor spat, halting the man. Smirking, he turned and looked at her with pity.

“We’ve been gone three days.” He whispered patronisingly, waving at her before pulling out his TCE and disappearing. Leaving the doctor to wallow in her own feelings.

When you awoke, you found yourself in a room you didn’t recognise. What you did know, was you were lying in the most comfortable bed you had ever been in. Purple silk sheets surrounded your body, your head resting on two perfectly fluffed pillows. Gazing around the room, you saw how nicely it was decorated. In front of the newly found four poster bed, was a cracking fire. A beautiful grey tiled mantelpiece encased it with intricate galifreyan carvings. The wall to your left was lined with dark book shelves with the most luxurious books imaginable. There was also a desk slotted between. Slowly, you sat up and looked down at your hands. They were neatly wrapped up, as was your shoulder. Then you realised you were wearing only your bra and a pair of very loose pyjama pants.

“You’re finally awake.” The masters voice greeted you warmly, the door clicking shut behind him. Coming to your side, he perched on the edge of the bed.

“Where am I?” You asked, voice horse. Smiling, he placed his hand in yours and you relaxed immediately.

“On my tardis. In my room to be more specific.” He told you, happy to see the relief on your face.

“You got us out?”

“Of course I did, love. I couldn’t let her treat you like that any more.” Gently, he reached up and stroked your cheek, thumbing the skin with care. His eyes raked over your figure, fingers tracing the bandages.

“I hope you don’t mind your attire. I wanted to make sure I could clean everything.” Blushing, you shivered under his touch but shook your head.

“I don’t mind. How long was I out?”

“Three days, I put your mind in a deep state of rest.” The master moved closer, almost caging you against the pillows. But you didn’t complain, instead you felt comfort. He rested his hand by your waist, your own hand came to hold his arm securely. Almost hugging it.

“I went back to the doctor. Gave it to her straight. I should have hurt her but, I couldn’t leave you for that long.” Smiling at his words, you rested your head on his shoulder and sighed.

“How about my room? Do you like it? It’s much better than the doctor’s tardis right?” You almost giggled at his need of approval.

“I love it. It’s a lot nicer so far. Plus your bed is so comfy.” Leaning back against the pillows, the master helped you to sit straight and get comfortable. Inching closer, the man was still facing you but practically sat on the bed beside you. His hand landed on your clothed thigh, smoothing over the fabric tentatively.

“She hadn’t noticed, by the way. We’ve been gone for three whole days. And the doctor didn’t notice a thing.” He laughed, simpering as he lined the pattern on your pants with his finger.

“Why would she? I’m not important. You on the other hand-“

“Don’t say that ever again.” He spoke sternly, eyes looking straight into your own. Frowning, you cast your gaze down to his hand on your thigh.

“But I’m not important to her. And I don’t care.”

“Well you’re important to me. And I’ll destroy whole galaxies to prove that.” Your heart sped up, swallowing thickly and hoping he couldn’t tell how flustered he was making you.

“Really?” You questioned, causing him to hum in confirmation. Sucking in a breath, the master trailed his hand along your inner thigh and up to your waist.

“Yes. I will burn heaven and earth for you.” His eyes flicked down to your lips briefly, the blush on your face spreading to your ears. You looked up at him shyly, lashes fluttering.

“Stop looking at me like that, (y/n).” The master groaned, leaving you confused.

“Why?” Smirking a little, he cupped your jaw with intention. Without saying another word, he leant forward and pressed his lips to yours. Heat filled your body. You kissed back instantly, ignoring the initial shock. Your arms wrapped around his neck to tug him in closer, the male practically hovering over you by then. He pulled back with caution, smiling down at you.

“That’s why.” Gleefully, you rolled over, successfully pinning him beneath you. The master grinned, holding your waist. He looked proud at your tactical move.

“Hah. Got you.” You giggled playfully, resting your elbow down to get closer to him.

“Only you can get away with man handling me, dear.”

Delicately, he traced along your face before trailing down and leaving his hand to cup the side of your neck. Placing your own free hand on his chest, you sighed.

“How do we get back at the doctor? You must have a trick up your sleeve?” You wondered out loud, hearing him cackle slightly.

“Oh of course I do. And with you by my side? It’ll be easier than ever to get her exactly where she deserves to be.”

[alieinthemorning]

Inked Wrists [Dynamight | Bakugou Katsuki || Red Riot | Kirishima Eijirou]

Content: Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Angst, Polyamory, Established Relationship

Pronouns: None

Bakugou Header: @/coaco_rami | Kirishima Header: @/urachan1629

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don't forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

At one point, people were born equal. 

In the world of quirks, this is no longer true. 

In the world of soulmates, this is even more false. 

You were a part of the 5% population who had a soulmate.

You and your partners

You glanced at your right wrist: 

Bakugou Katsuki

Then your left:

Kirishima Eijirou 

These two names appeared on your wrists the moment you stepped foot on UA’s grounds. 

You didn’t know who they were during the exams, but the moment you walked through Class 1-A’s door, you knew. The three of you were immediately drawn to each other (even if Katsuki was too shy to admit it).

But now…

Now it just seemed to be you and Eijirou.

Katsuki was spending more time training (as if he wasn’t strong enough). More time studying (as if he wasn’t smart enough).

He was just 

gone.

“You seem to be thinking hard, what’s wrong?” He asked, raising a hand up to caress your cheek. 

You blinked at him, slowly returning to reality. 

You were in your room, on your bed, with Eijirou resting in your lap. It was after classes and training and—

“Oh. I’m sorry.” You resumed stroking his hair. That must have been why he said that.

Or maybe not— because he sat up, facing you head on. “What’s wrong? I can basically hear the gears churning up here.” He tapped your forehead. 

You sighed, “I can’t keep anything from you.”

“Well, something ya can, and other things…” He trailed off, caressing your wrist.

Your right wrist. 

Ah.

“So you noticed it too…” 

Eijirou nodded. “I feel like ever since we rescued him, he’s just been…off.” He paused, “And not just because of that— it’s like…”

“There’s something else he’s not telling us.” You finished. 

The two of you were quiet for a moment then

“We have to confront him.”

And what a fucking mistake that was. 

“Katsuki…is there something wrong—?” You barely got to get the entire question out before he was jumping down your throat and stalking toward you.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” His hands flexed at his side.

Regardless, you held your ground. “Ever since the kidnapping, you’ve—”

His hands popped once, then he was turned away from you. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Eijirou was on his other side, arms crossed, stance strong. “At least hear us out, man…we know something is—”

“You don’t know shit!” Katsuki raised a crackling hand up, ready to slam it in the side of Eijirou’s head.

So you quickly activated your quirk, Gummy Gum, wrestling his arm back with the elastic substance. 

Katsuki looked between the two of you. “I’m not saying shit, so drop this weakass quirk before I make you drop it.” 

You did, knowing that he wasn’t going to actually harm you, but instead knew that he had reached his limit and pushing him any further would instead push him away from you. 

Even further that he already was.

So instead, you waited. 

Waited for him to come to you on his own.

And he did.

Just not in the way you were expecting. 

Battered and bruised. 

Eyes glazed over with what you could only identify as 

Regret. 

He didn’t tell you what happened, just stood at the door waiting. 

So with a quick glance at Eijirou, you did the only thing you could do

You opened your arms and heart for him.

As the two of you would always do.

Because at the end of the day, this is the only thing you could ask for.

For them to come home.

Until he didn’t.

This took like three days.

I'm not actively writing for this again btw. I just really needed to rewrite this lol.

I also I did not realize that I never posted this here.

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

[blue-pearl832]

KWW Collab and Minecraft societal world building.

Ok so like I’ve been slowly making my own web of Minecraft headcannons and if I don’t yell out into the void about I might go a bit insane. The main ones I’ve been thinking about lately are mostly KWW collab related and to do with my writing but there’s some others in there too. So one of the most fleshed out headcannons I have about Minecraft in general is the way that coms work. To me they’re like part a cellphone and part literally a part of a players data. It’s what allows players to have their innate connection to their worlds and severs. As well as being what lets them access menus and get whitelisted on severs. For the fic in specific I’m working on right now a player can lose their com if they’re injured badly enough. That’s why there is this almost specialist kind of admin for lack of better terminology that deals with getting players coms and dealing with issues. As a small side note if a player were to not have a com then they wouldn’t be able to see most game ui and name tags.

This is my personal favorite which is just the little cultural things about Minecraft society. Like with most things I like to interpret all the little gestures people do as just parts of communication in the fic. So with crouching and what that means and swinging a sword at some or just putting up a shield and taking out weapons. Each one has its own purpose in talking with other players. Then there’s some more out there and fun ones I have, like how to make a promise with someone you trace a heart over the left side of your chest instead of linking pinky’s. It’s mostly to symbolize saying you can take me hearts if I don’t keep my promise and also ‘Your promise is close to my heart’

I’m so clearly rambling but I have to get it off my chest. In the same vain as putting your bed against someone else’s there are other ways that relations of any kind are shown. Stuff like paired skins and shared or similar usernames that show some kind of affiliation are big ones, but there’s also things like having a joint sever or making a build or project together.

Smaller headcannons I wanted to talk about rapid fire.

There is a fundamental sort of magic in every player and aspect of the world that shows itself in different ways. Some players it shows itself in the players origins like void walkers or elf origins. Others it more hybridistic (not a word well it is now) ways like with avians or mers. And a lot of the time just in the way the player is themselves.

There are more enchantments and potions than we see. A lot of players origin characteristics also give them light potions effects like feathers falling or night vision to things like knock back. I also like the idea of there being enchantment and potions reason as to why things like certain commands work .

I just wanted to yapp but I hope you enjoyed (:

[apoptoses]

Where I’m Bound

Lestat/Armand 4.3k Explicit pure fluff/moving in together/theater kids in love/questionable uses of the blood/really really sappy/do not enter if you don’t want your teeth to rot

Also on Ao3

“Absolutely not,” Armand said.

Lestat sat sprawled in an electric yellow armchair, patting his lap shamelessly in attempt to get Armand to join him. Going to the IKEA outside Paris was his idea, of course. They’d signed the final paperwork on their apartment earlier that week, and the moment the keys had been sent over to Auvergne he’d packed Armand into the car and demanded they go shopping.

An idea that was all well and good in theory. Armand just hadn’t counted on being taken to a labyrinth of a big box store; a place filled with the kind of Scandinavian minimalism his old world tastes were entirely at odds with. Like the chair. It was eye-searing, at best. Between the glare of the fluorescent lights and the contrast of Lestat’s unnaturally pale hands on the arm rests, the yellow fabric practically glowed.

Armand put his hands in the pockets of the leather jacket he wore- Lestat’s jacket, he’d been rushed out the door so quickly he hadn’t had a chance to go up to his rooms and get his own- and arched his brow. “Lestat, we are in public,” he said.

Not that he’d ever shrunken from public displays of affection before. Daniel would attest to that fact. It was just that he so very much enjoyed making Lestat bicker with him first.

“And? We’re head over heels and shopping for our first home together, like all the rest of the couples here,” Lestat insisted. “Live a little, chéri. Don’t make me beg.”

Nearby a couple sat down on a bed together. Hands joined, they fell back among the pillows and laughed.

They were thinking about how the bed would look in their home, about a petty fight they’d had that morning. The young woman wondered if it would make up for shouting at her lover if she compromised and agreed to purchase the blanket she disliked. It wouldn’t match anything they owned but the smile she would get for it…

They weren’t so different from them at all, Armand supposed. Sometimes the centuries weighed upon him so much that he forgot how young he and Lestat really were.

But then they’d hardly gotten to be adolescents, not really. They’d had their earliest relationships swept out from under them, and then the centuries had taken their toll on them both. When was the last time Armand had lightened up and acted his mortal age? Surely it had been decades.

Well. It was better late than never, he supposed.

Unable to give up their game of push and pull that easily, Armand gave a put upon sigh as he dropped down onto Lestat’s thighs. “I’ll have you beg but not here,” he said and linked his hands at the back of Lestat’s neck. “It’s a terribly narrow chair, isn’t it? There’s hardly room for us both.”

Lestat’s grin was smug. He wrapped his arms around Armand’s waist and tugged him closer, so that he was tucked up against his chest. Funny how that made a thing like Armand blush. Under the bright lights of the store there was nowhere to hide his flushed cheeks, though he glanced down at his lap like a child who believed that not being able to see Lestat’s face meant Lestat couldn’t see his.

“All the better reason to hold you then, my darling,” Lestat said and squeezed his hip. “We should get it. Just because we can. And when you get sick of looking at it we’ll pack it off to the guest room and let our friends suffer it instead.”

Armand pursed his lips, pretended he had to think about it. It made Lestat give him such a sweetly petulant look.

“Fine. But not the yellow,” Armand said. “The green velvet.”

Lestat kissed his cheek. “I knew you’d come around. Now I need a pen to write down the name of it, quaint that they all have names-”

Armand listened to Lestat ramble as he let himself be lifted off his lap and onto his feet. He was about to simply take a photo of the tag on the chair when Lestat snatched his wrist. Before Armand could protest he’d pushed up his jacket sleeve and scrawled the item information right onto his skin.

“There were papers for that right by the pen,” Armand said, frowning at his handwriting. Lestat’s hand could never keep up with his brain and his scribble showed it. It might have been endearing, had it been something sweet and not the name of an armchair. “You hardly needed to use me as your notepad.”

“Give you a paper you can conveniently ‘lose’ so we walk out of here with nothing? Please,” Lestat said with a laugh. “I was hardly born yesterday.”

He took a couple quick steps to catch up with Lestat, who had moved on to a bedroom display. It reminded Armand of a motel room he and Daniel had once stayed in with its avocado green sheets. This time when Lestat sat down he needed no prompting. Armand leaned back against the pillows beside him, close enough their shoulders touched.

Armand elbowed him. “I wouldn’t lose it. You would set it down somewhere and then blame me for your mistake.”

Lestat peered at him over his sunglasses. He had that sort of expression like he was trying to weigh the pros and cons of turning their bickering into a full out fight. Armand felt a sharp and immediate stab of regret. Perhaps he had needled at him too hard. He would have to correct this. There were tried and true ways of distracting Lestat that he’d only picked up of late. A compliment, a kiss. A juvenile act, like-

Armand looked at the throw pillow beside him. He picked it up and hit Lestat with it. Lestat barked out a laugh.

“Oh, is this how life with you is going to be? You think you can make a sharp remark and then rough me up to get out of fighting about it?” Lestat asked and tried to grab for the pillow, aiming to hit him back. He pushed himself up onto his elbow and reached for it, but Armand was too quick.

He looked delightfully ridiculous, hovering above Armand like this. The pillow had knocked his sunglasses sideways, and a wisp of blonde hair stood up on the top of his head. But he was smiling, and that sent warmth blooming in Armand’s chest.

“Yes,” Armand said and reached out to smooth out his hair, and fix his sunglasses for him. When he took the sunglasses by their thin metal arms Lestat closed his eyes and waited patiently until Armand had set him to rights.

“You’re an absolute terror. I don’t know why I adore you.” Lestat said and stood, extending his hand to help Armand up. “Come, we have kitchenware to argue over.”

And so it went.

In the kitchens and dining rooms they bickered over plates they would never eat off.

(“Fine china is a traditional wedding gift. Had you made me an honest man before moving in with me we would hardly need to fight over which plates to get.”

“We’ve only just gotten our house keys and now you want a wedding, how quickly you move,” Lestat said, like the hypocrite he could be.)

In the desks and bookshelves, Armand picked out a truly awful desk chair and allowed Lestat to write the item information on his arm.

(“Surely Marius deserves a fine chair to sit in, should he ever drop by and need to catch up on his ministerial work,” Armand said, all faux-seriousness.)

In the bathrooms Lestat found an enormous bath towel on display and demanded they find at least five of them when they got to the stockroom.

(“Look, it’s so big you could use it as a blanket, mon petit chéri!” he exclaimed, and got soundly pinched for it.)

By the time they actually found themselves in the stock room Lestat declared himself exhausted. Armand was all too happy to push him around in the basket like an overgrown child, careening around a corner and nearly taking out a display of cheap vases.

(“It would have been a mercy had I knocked them over, no one should suffer such an ugly thing in their home,” Armand said even as Lestat put one in the cart for them to buy.)

At the check out the lady running the register remarked on what a lovely young couple they were, and asked how long they’d known each other. She laughed at Lestat’s answer of “oh, centuries! Only just now have the fates aligned for us both”, utterly charmed by him.

Armand couldn’t help but be charmed himself.

He watched from their pile of bags as Lestat took care of the particulars of furniture delivery. Lestat’s coat was draped over his arm, giving Armand a view of his broad shoulders flexing beneath his t-shirt as he signed off on the delivery paperwork. With his hair loose and bracelets jingling on his wrist he looked every inch the former rock star.

But beneath that was the same young man Armand had been captivated by centuries ago. If he unfocused his gaze he could see Lestat standing there, clad in the silk breeches and embroidered coat he’d worn when he stepped down into the catacombs of Les Innocents and upended Armand’s entire existence.

Lestat glanced back over his shoulder at Armand and smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. Armand wiggled his fingers in a little wave, and got blown a kiss for it that gave him butterflies, the likes of which he hadn’t felt since he’d developed his first crush at 16. He held his hand up to his forehead and pretended to faint as his cheeks glowed pink.

Yes, finally, the fates had aligned for them both.

“They’ll deliver it all tomorrow evening,” Lestat said as he picked up their bags, putting the handles up on his shoulder so that he could hold out his hand to Armand. Armand took it and let himself be led out into the snow. “In the meantime we’ll make do with what’s already there.”

—

What was already there, as it turned out, was practically nothing.

Inside the apartment was frigid from disuse. The electric was on but Lestat didn’t bother to turn on the light in the living room, just followed Armand in and dropped their bags to the floor. Boxes were scattered in the room but nothing was opened. They’d begun sourcing and sending over things the moment they’d chosen the place, but by this point Armand wasn’t sure he remembered what some of them even were.

The emptiness of the place was just as overwhelming as it was full of potential. Armand was struck by the reminder that to have a life here they would have to build it together.

“We’ll deal with all of this tomorrow, no reason to get everything out and in the way when more things are still due to arrive. Go make the bed and I’ll bring everything else in,” Lestat said and then hesitated. “Unless you’d rather we spend the night in your other house you have in the city?”

Armand considered it. His other home was warm and well furnished. They’d sleep well under satin sheets there and leave all the hard work to the delivery crew. With a little extra payment they’d come home to a finished apartment.

But then he prodded into Lestat’s thoughts.

Nicholas. The thrill of that first rickety room, with its crumbling plaster walls. The way it had felt to throw their straw-stuffed mattress onto the floor and drag Nicki down onto it, to have something that was all their own. How they’d huddled together beneath the covers with only each other to keep warm.

Armand looked down the hall, to the mattress in the empty bedroom. “We’ll make this a home tonight one way or another,” he said.

Lestat said nothing. The way he cradled Armand’s face in his hands and kissed his forehead before he went back out to the car was thanks enough.

Armand went into the bedroom with one of their bags. He stretched the fitted sheet over the mattress and unfolded the blankets. At the store Lestat had told him a story about choosing bed linens with Louis that had them both in tears of laughter, and in their hysterics they hadn’t noticed that none of the blankets they’d picked matched. Armand shook his head and slipped a pillow into a pillowcase that clashed terribly with the comforter.

At the bottom of the bag was a set of candles. He needed nothing to light them but then again, Daniel’s lighter was in his pants pocket. He took it out and flicked the switch. Let them continue this game of pretend, of being mortal for one night. Armand lit the candles, set them on the floor, and stood back to see his work.

Suddenly it all felt so important. Soon he and Lestat would climb between the mismatched sheets and spend their first night completely alone together, after nearly three hundred years of struggling to find what they could be to one another.

He was curled up in bed when Lestat finally brought the rest of their things in and joined him. Arms wrapped around his pillow, he watched Lestat get out of his clothes. There was a birthmark near the base of his spine, the faintest of scars on his shoulder from the wolf attack. Armand longed to kiss them both. In the sparse candlelight he looked so very mortal.

“Did you see something you like?” Lestat asked as he pulled back the covers and climbed in beside him.

Armand let him settle before he pulled the floral comforter up high around them, so that only their faces were exposed.

“I was only wondering how a man with such good taste talked me into buying a blanket as awful as this,” he teased.

Lestat grinned. “It is horrible, isn’t it? I had a waistcoat made of similar fabric, once. I used to wear it to get a rise out of Louis, he always complained it drew too much attention to us when we went out.”

“As if you’ve ever needed any special clothing to draw attention to you,” Armand said. “Is that why you chose it? You wished to get a rise out of me?”

Lestat hesitated. There was a witty response on the tip of his tongue, Armand could feel it. But there was something else, a thought that made his eyes go soft, as if he’d just realized the enormity of what they were doing too.

“No,” Lestat said softly. He settled his hand on the pillow, so close to Armand's that their little fingers touched. “I was hardly thinking when I picked it up. I only wanted to get back here with you.”

Armand shifted over, so close they were sharing breathing space. The tip of Lestat’s nose was cold against his but he nuzzled at it anyways, stealing a childish bit of affection as they laid there in silence together.

He closed his eyes when Lestat reached out to touch his face. He could feel him tracing between the freckles on his cheeks, connecting them with his fingertips. When his fingers brushed near Armand’s mouth he turned his face and kissed them, catching his hand in his so he could press his mouth to them one by one. Beneath his lips he could feel Lestat’s pulse. It was pounding just as hard as his own.

There were a million things Armand could have said, about love and want and regret. He didn’t say any of them. He just curled his fingers in Lestat’s hair and closed the distance between them to kiss him.

I want you, Lestat said silently.

Lestat’s hands were so warm, and when he spread his fingers they nearly spanned the width of Armand’s back. Armand arched up into his touch, sighing softly at the way Lestat so gently felt his way over his shoulder blades. Traveled down the length of his spine until his palm settled on his lower back and with barely a touch dragged him closer.

Chest to chest, legs tangled together, there was hardly an inch of them that wasn’t touching. Lestat nicked his tongue on Armand fang and let the blood fill his mouth. It burned all the way down to his fingertips, made him curl them tight against the nape of Lestat’s neck.

You have me, Armand said back.

He was no virgin but he might as well have been with the way his heart drummed beneath his ribs when Lestat pressed him onto his back. Armand’s legs came up to wrap around his waist, heels pressing into the backs of Lestat’s thighs as he clung to him. Out of some old mortal instinct he rocked his hips up, rubbing against Lestat as he tried to get closer, but nothing was close enough.

There was no real purpose to what Armand was considering asking for. Immortal beings as they were, they had no biological impetus for sex. And yet he wanted it anyway, the intimacy of it. To feel Lestat’s pulse from within himself, close as the two of them could ever be.

 You’d want that?

Oh. Armand hadn’t realized he’d opened up his mind.

The golden curtain of Lestat’s hair made it impossible not to meet his gaze. Grey eyes, so wide and full of want. As silence stretched between them Lestat began to worry at his lower lip. Armand leaned up to catch it between his teeth, hands cradling Lestat’s face.

He meant to answer him aloud but one kiss turned into two, and before Armand knew it he was gasping as Lestat brushed his mouth down the length of his artery. He curled his fingers tight in his hair. Began to speak and then Lestat buried his face in the curve of his shoulder, breathed him in and groaned with it, knocking all the words but one from Armand’s head.

Please.

“Of course, chéri. Anything you like,” Lestat murmured. Shifted over and brought his fingers to Armand’s kiss swollen lips. “Get them good and wet for me.”

With a shuddering breath Armand parted his lips. Lestat’s fingertips throbbed with his pulse as he pressed him down against Armand’s tongue. He was aware of how sinful he looked when he did this. Lestat’s blown pupils and low gasp when Armand hollowed his cheeks and let his lashes flutter were proof enough of that.

But it wasn’t all an act. There was pleasure in it too, in the salty taste of Lestat’s skin and the thirst that made heat spread through every inch of him. Armand chased his fingers when Lestat withdrew them, tried to take them back into his mouth when he smelled the sharp and sweet scent of blood.

Lestat had intentionally nicked his fingertips on his fangs. The blood ran hot and thick down the length of them, pooled in his palm. Armand opened his mouth to try to catch a stray drop and got shoved back against the pillows for it.

“You terrible minx,” Lestat murmured. “I’ll let you have that soon enough.”

Lestat’s fingers were long, his knuckles thick. Without the blood this was a clinical experience. With it the pleasure lit up his nerves, sent fire racing beneath Armand’s skin until his toes curled and he gasped with it. Lestat went slow, so slow he had to feel every inch until the heel of his palm rested firm against his perineum; until Armand curled toward him and his hands scrambled desperately against his chest.

“Your heart is pounding,” Lestat said against the top of his head.

Armand could only give a broken groan and rock down against his hand.

It seemed to go on for ages. Lestat stretched him open, gentle as could be until Armand had let down his guard and fallen apart in his arms. He rested his forehead against Lestat’s chest and practically whined when he withdrew his fingers to cut them open again. No wonder Daniel had dragged him into bed so often, if the blood alone inside him was this overwhelming. Armand clutched at Lestat when he worked a third finger into him.

Full. He felt so full. His face was tingling with the blood and-

Why are you stopping? Armand asked silently when Lestat pushed at his hip to roll him over onto his other side.

 Open your eyes, my darling.

Armand’s fingers twisted in the sheets when he looked out to see his own reflection, glassy eyed and staring back in the mirror affixed to the back of a door.

Lestat threw back the blankets. He was so tall he could peer over the top of Armand’s head, hold his gaze as he shifted into place and aligned their hips. Lestat brought his hand to his mouth, let the blood pooled in it cover his palm before he reached down and-

Armand arched his back, mouth dropping open in a silent moan. The pressure of Lestat slipping into him was enormous. It ached in the best way, reducing all of his senses down to that one point of contact, and Armand held his gaze via their reflections until their hips met. As Lestat laced his bloody fingers with his and held their joined hands to Armand’s stomach he could do nothing but squeeze his eyes shut and let out a wet gasp.

It was so good. Good because of the pleasure of it. Good because it was Lestat who held him in warm, protective arms.

Lestat’s heart drummed a steady tattoo against his back. He was soaked in blood sweat, they both were, and the thirst from it made Armand’s mouth burn as they rocked against one another. He couldn’t help himself, he lifted Lestat’s bloody hand to his lips and watched his eyes go wide when Armand licked the drying blood from his fingertips.

This is how I should have had you ages ago. Lestat’s teeth nipped at the shell of his ear. Should have you every night from now forward.

Armand twisted his neck around, caught Lestat in a messy kiss. Watched the slide of their lips together in the mirror and moaned with the obscenity of it.

“Tell me when you need me most,” Lestat said, breathless, as he kissed his way over his cheek. “Tell me and then I’ll let you have my wrist.”

How could Armand do that, when he always needed Lestat the most? He rolled his hips down and felt Lestat’s pulse pick up from within him, a delicious reminder of how Lestat needed him too.

As immortals there was no orgasm to chase. Only the desire for intimacy and the steady build up of the thirst dictated how long they stayed locked in their unnatural embrace. Armand would have watched Lestat fuck him all night if the thirst wasn’t so overwhelming he was trembling with it.

Now. Please. Now.

There was a second when it seemed Lestat might hold out and tease him. Armand was prepared to overpower him and put him on his back. He was trying to throw his leg back and twist around when he noticed Lestat was only brushing his hair aside so he could get at his neck.

“Impatient, are we?” Lestat murmured, grinning at Armand in the mirror.

Armand opened his mouth to complain. But then Lestat rocked his hips up hard and pressed his wrist to Armand’s lips and cut him off entirely.

Images passed through his mind. The first time Lestat saw him, dusty and wan in the Notre Dame. Armand in silk and lace, leaning up to kiss him at the ball. In a park getting his hair ruffled as he looked up at Lestat with warm brown eyes. Armand asleep in his arms. All of their firsts, played right back at him in stunning relief as the blood set him alight from the inside.

Armand squeezed his wrist tight and sent Lestat the same back as he swallowed deep droughts of him. Images of every time he’d looked at Lestat and felt something crack in his closed off heart.

Lestat’s hips stuttered. Once, twice and then he went still against Armand’s back, releasing his throat and gasping into his shoulder. He rubbed his face against the nape of Armand’s neck, and Armand reached back with a trembling hand to pet his hair.

Lestat withdrew from him but they stayed like that for some time, Armand wrapped in his arms as they looked at each other through the mirror. Lestat’s hair was a mess and blood stained his cheek but he’d never looked lovelier.

The candles beside the bed flickered. Armand rubbed his feet against Lestat’s shins and smiled when he kissed his back.

“I love you,” Lestat said softly. Armand turned in his arms so he could see his face properly. “I mean that. Not because of what we just did. It’s only that I should have said it long ago, and I can’t not say it now.”

Armand’s fingers curled against his chest. He’d been uncertain as to whether Lestat would ever say that to him, but here he was, as honest as Armand had ever seen him.

“I love you as well. So terribly much,” Armand murmured and brushed his lips against Lestat’s.

Outside the snow lashed at the windows. A ribbon of pink was spreading across the sky.

Eventually Lestat would have to pull himself away, lock the shutters and close the curtains. They would fall asleep like this, on this messy little mattress on the floor, tangled together with nothing else to do but hold one another. When they woke Armand would slip on one of Lestat’s tshirts and let himself be waltzed around the empty kitchen until the delivery crew arrived.

They would do all of that soon, and more. But for now Armand just kissed Lestat’s brow and let himself lie there, content with the knowledge that the two of them were home.

[multifandomlover01]

Humming/Breakfast

Nixon x reader (female implied)

Word count: 1,235

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own writing

A/N: what are dialogue tags…lol 😂 also kinda just ends but I rambled long enough and got tired

Tag list (let me know if you want on or off): @cody-helix02 @immrsgeorge-luz @georgelust @emmythespacecowgirl

You opened your eyes and briefly panicked when you realized it wasn’t to an alarm, but then calmed down a second later when you realized you didn’t have to because it was Saturday. You reached beside you, still quite sleepy, only to find nothing there but empty sheets. You woke up a bit, rubbed your eyes and looked over to confirm that Lew was not in bed next to you. This perplexed you as you usually got up before him on the weekends. You checked the clock to see it was 8 o clock. This was even more perplexing as neither of you usually got up this early.

You got up and padded to the bathroom to get ready for the day even though you had no plans. You went back into your bedroom to get dressed, deciding on a t-shirt and sweats, the same thing you’d worn to bed, essentially, just clean.

You finally made your way into the kitchen, which is where you found Lew, making breakfast of all things. He was making eggs and sausage. And he was…humming?

You walked up behind him and stood beside him. He glanced over at you and smiled, giving you a peck on the cheek. He went back to the sausage and to humming.

“How did you sleep last night?”

“Alright.”

“Just alright?”

You shrugged.

“I’ve slept better. But I’ve also slept worse.”

He chuckled.

“I feel that.”

“Why are you up so early?” You asked him curiously.

He shrugged.

“Oh, I don’t know. I just thought it’d be nice to make you breakfast. I feel like you’re the one who’s always doing the cooking around here. And I know you’ve been kind of stressed lately, so I thought I’d do something nice for you.”

Your heart melted. You hugged him around his waist.

“Thank you, Lew. You’re the best.” You looked up at him. He smiled.

“I know.” He kissed you briefly on the lips and you detached yourself from him.

You decided to wait at the island for him finish. You noticed he’d began humming again.

“What’re you humming?”

“Huh?”

“What are you humming?”

“I was humming?”

You laugh and nod. “Yes.”

“I didn’t even realize I was doing it. So I have no idea.”

“Go back to cooking and see if you do it again. But don’t think about it!”

He rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to not think about it now that you’ve mentioned it?”

“You just do it. Focus on not burning the sausage.” You said as you leaned over and pointed.

“What?!” He whipped around to see the sausage was indeed beginning to burn “Oh shit!”

Once the sausage had been saved, he began on the French toast.

“Kind of a big breakfast, isn’t it?”

“It’s just one egg, one sausage patty and one or two pieces of French toast. Don’t eat it all if you don’t want to.”

“Alright.”

As he was dipping them, he began humming again. Instead of pointing it out, you decided to listen to it intently to see if you could identify and if not, replicate it for him. You could not identify it, so you memorized it as best as you could as he continued while he put the toast in the skillet.

When he served the food and sat down, you asked him if he knew he had been humming again. He did not. You tried to replicate it for him, but didn’t do a very good job.

“What on Earth were you humming?!”

“I don’t know! I don’t even know I’m doing it, you don’t know what it is and you can’t replicate it. So I guess neither of us will ever know.”

“Oh no no no no. I need to know now. I’m too invested.”

Lew chuckled and shook his head.

“Why don’t we focus on eating breakfast now and we can deal with that later, huh?”

You pouted as you took a bite of French toast.

As the two of you began to eat, you conversed a bit, but in a lull you noticed he’d started humming again. You tried to hum along this time quietly before increasing in volume. He stopped humming and looked at you with hi s head titled to the side.

“What?” You asked.

“Why are you humming “Blood on the Risers”?”

You almost threw your plate, but managed not to. You did dramatically drop your spoon on the table though.

“Is that what that is?!”

“Is that what what is?”

“What you’ve been humming all morning?!”

“Have I been humming that all morning?”

“Yes! How could you not realize that?”

“I guess I was so focused on making you a good breakfast that I didn’t even notice it.”

“I don’t know if I’ve heard you hum before.”

“I must’ve been doing it to distract me from the stress.”

“The stress of what?”

“Of making you breakfast!”

“Why would that be stressful?” You asked, utterly confused.

“Because you’re such a good cook, and I didn’t want to poison you because I didn’t know what I was doing. I wanted you to like it.”

“Aw, Lew. That’s sweet.”

You got up to hug him and kiss him on the cheek.

“You did a good job.”

“Really? You like the food?”

“Well I’ve been eating it, haven’t I?”

“That doesn’t mean you like it. You’re so nice, you’d keep eating it even if you hated it.”

“Now you know I won’t eat food I don’t like. I would break it to you very gently that your food tasted like shit. But it doesn’t, ok? Don’t you like it?”

“I’ll eat absolute garbage, you know that.”

You chuckled.

“That’s true.”

You continued to eat your breakfast. When you were done, you went to clear the plates when Lew stopped you.

“I can do.” You protested.

“No. I want to do it. I made it, I’ll wash the dishes.”

“That’s all the more reason I should clean the dishes. You made breakfast, so I should watch the dishes.”

“You do so much though. Why don’t you let me do these few things.”

You sighed, but let him take the dishes from you and over to the sink. As he was washing the dishes, he started humming again. But you noticed it was distinctly different from before. But at least you recognized it this time and saved your sanity.

“Now you’re humming Glenn Miller’s Moonlight Serenade!”

“I know.”

“Oh, so now you know that you’re humming?”

“Oh, I did before.”

“Before?!”

He chuckled.

“Yes. Before.”

“You knew you were humming this whole time and you didn’t tell me?!”

He shrugged and then smirked. He had been messing with you all morning.

“Lewis!” You scolded as you lightly smacked his arm.

He chuckled and enveloped you in a hug that you tried to wriggle out of. He kissed your head and let you go. You helped him with the dishes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were humming Blood on the Risers earlier? It could’ve saved me a lot of trouble.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I wanted to see how long it took you to figure it out.”

“Well I didn’t.”

“I was just joking around. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Of course. Just don’t do it again.”

“I make no promises.”

“Enjoy the couch tonight.” I joked.

“Ok, I promise.”

“I don’t believe you, but I forgive you.”

[yeonbinfics]

Getaway

Getaway by honggjoongie (ao3)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10,242

Summary: 

Boyfriends Soobin and Yeonjun take a week vacation to a beautiful remote cabin in the woods. They're looking forward to spending time together, but Soobin starts to notice some weird things happening.

Review:

So this one would have been perfect for Halloween but I also just discovered this fic when browsing through the yeonbin tags on ao3 so I'm going to gush about it now. Even if it is November.

My jaw dropped when I found this omg this is the spoopy fic I've been wanting all along. You have creepy cabin in the woods and the maybe unreliable narrator and horror movie themes. Just everything the community has been needing! And come to my surprise, this was posted in 2 years ago and has only 2k hits like? That’s an abomination, I need everyone to get on this fic right now!

Rambling aside, I loved this fic so much. 

It starts off like we are watching a movie. The way the author writes makes it play out in my head perfectly. Soobin and Yeonjun driving to their vacation spot in a cabin in the woods. The sun is shining, yeonbin are in love, they’re out celebrating their 2 year anniversary. Just happy vibes all around even though we as the reader already know some shit is about to go down. It’s just so perfectly horror movieesque. 

They arrive at the cabin and right off the bat everything is perfect. Very dreamy and wonderful, like they’re the spokespersons of a vacation catalogue or something. But soon enough, things begin to get eerie. First it’s the knocking on the front door that soobin answers but finds no one there. Then, the water in the cabin begins to get really hot which wouldn’t be that weird tbh but in context of the whole fic, its pretty weird. It’s as if something is beginning to play around with them. 

And then the really spooky shit starts happening. Soobin gets woken up in the middle of the night. There’s loud banging coming from outside of the cabin and creaking inside the house. Yeonjun does not hear it at all, he just keeps on sleeping. And this is when I knew it was like a horror movie because you know what Soobin does? He rolls over and goes back to sleep. 

Soobin! My god, I would have been out of there in 0.001 seconds, dragging Yeonjun behind me even if he was asleep I don’t care. 

But this keeps happening every single night. The banging, the creaking, at one point soobin wakes up and Yeonjun is gone. He’s not in bed and he can’t hear him moving around the cabin and instead of going out to look for him because you know, there’s been weird shit going on, nah he just goes back sleep. 

Someone come bring Soobin his clown nose because what the hell! It’s literally like a scary movie and I love it so much!

And what’s worse, when ever crazier things begin happening, Soobin tells Yeonjun, and you know what Yeonjun does? Nothing. He does nothing. He just tells him its probably nothing or maybe he was dreaming. Red flag! 

At one point Soobin hears Yeonjun calling for him from upstairs but when Soobin goes to check, the entire upstairs is empty, and Yeonjun is discovered to be downstairs the entire time doing his work. And the longer they stay, the more elaborate the house begins to mess with them. 

I don’t want to spoil all of it but this is such a good fic to immerse yourself in you like spooky stuff. The writer does a really good job and at describing everything as if you are in it and living it out as well. Like I said in the beginning, this entire fic reads out like a movie in your head. Every scene Soobin is in gives me chills with the way the author sets it up and gives details. 

Please leave the original fic kudos and comments and lots of love please!

( i know i said no spoilers but this is a spoiler so don't read if you haven’t read it i just want to get my theory out there)

The author doesn’t really answer if yeonjun is real or not. 

And my theory is that yeonjun is probably not real. I think it was the house making him up for soobin to fully stay in the house. Because it already made itself look picturesque perfect and to top it off, the prefect boyfriend as well. 

Because why on earth is Yeonjun just brushing everything off? Every time Soobin shows concern about something in the house, Yeonjun is there with a smile to tell him it’s nothing. And then when Soobin hears Yeonjun up stairs, the house is suddenly able to talk too that it was able to mimic Yeonjun’s voice? Nah, it has to be the house creating Yeonjun as a whole. 

And then when they try to leave, why would Yeonjun go back in the cabin? You see you’re boyfriend panicking, you had all night to pack. why would you go back and get your stuff. you should already be out with your bags in hand (although i think this could be a classic scary movie trope where the main characters just aren’t very bright lol). 

I’ve watched enough scary movies to fully believe Beomgyu when he’s like, yeah man you’ve been in the cabin without eating. the house was probably feeding off of soobin, feeding him lies to get him stay. 

Anyway, I've rambled enough. If you read this let me know what you’re theory is!

[k4g3hika]

WE’LL BE JUST FINE ━ imagine!

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: i’m convinced eddie has no idea how to treat a girl. like, a girlfriend is probably the least of his concerns until he met you. the problem? he doesn’t know the difference between a friend, and a girlfriend. and that could possibly mean the end of your teenage romance.

genre: angst then fluff

wc: 3k

note: eddie has no idea how to treat a girl, until someone teaches him. no one can tell me otherwise, also! imagine that say anything came earlier than it actually did :D

tags: friends to lovers to exes to lovers (what a trope), fluff, angst with comfort, reader is 18+, eddie may be a bit ooc.

Tonight was date night! And you couldn’t be happier. 

Pulling up to Eddie’s trailer, you excitedly got out of the car, practically skipping to his front door and softly tapping on it. Sure, you’ve been here more times than you can count, but you still found it respectful to knock before you enter. 

Eddie has been your best friend ever since you moved to Hawkins in freshman year and a couple of months ago when you finally admitted to having deeper feelings for him, the both of you began to date. You couldn’t ask for anything more. 

Nope. Nothing more. 

The door pulls open to a smiling Eddie, who reaches forward to give you a sincere hug. As you reach to his face, attempting to at least give him a kiss on his cheek, he quickly pulled away and began rambling on about Dungeons and Dragons. 

It turns out you could actually ask Eddie for something other than the title of being his girlfriend. Maybe, for him to actually treat you like one. 

Walking into the trailer by yourself, you shut the door behind you and jog up to Eddie to catch on to what he was saying. Hopefully, he was almost ready for the movie at 6 that both of you were very excited about. You couldn’t stop talking about it for weeks, and when you finally found out that it was coming to Hawkins’ local theatre, you asked Eddie to go. Of course, he said yes, who couldn’t say yes to you?

So why, when you entered his room, was it littered with D&D pamphlets, records, and cassette tapes…and no clothes? 

You expected him to be ready by now, it was 5:00 for Christ’s sake. The smile that was once planted on your face immediately fell, but went unnoticed by Eddie, who instead of tending to his girlfriend, plopped himself down onto the bed and began writing something down on his notepad. 

“So listen, for the next campaign, I want it to be big! This is definitely going to be one for the little sheep to remember, and hopefully, going to be the best one they’ve ever played!” Eddie smiles brightly at you, which instantly conflicted with you. You couldn’t frown at Eddie’s happiness, it was too bright to ignore. Instead, you sighed and pulled at the hem of your shirt. 

“That sounds great babe, but…why aren’t you dressed yet?” His eyes move from his notepad to you, a bit confused. You felt something heavy drop in your heart. He couldn’t have forgotten…please don’t tell me he forgot.

“Dressed for what? Where are we going?” 

“The movies? It’s date night.” His lips shape into an ‘o’, a clear habit of his when he clearly forgot about something. 

Ouch.

“Oh shit, sorry Y/N. Well, it’s okay, right? We could just go next time, I’m sure that the later showing is better anyway.” 

“But Eddie, I have a family dinner tonight. I have to be home by eight.” He exasperatedly sighs, throwing his hand up in the air. 

“Then tomorrow night then? Sorry about forgetting N/N, D&D has been so amazing lately. Come, let me read out the campaign I have in mind.” Eddie gestures his hands for you to come closer, causing you to exhale quietly, but fall into his arms anyway. He went along with his notes, laughing and rubbing your back as he happily reads out his ideas and passions. 

The movies can wait. You guessed tonight will just be like every other night. 

—

“And then, I,” Robin takes a breath, “I just chucked the drink at him! What else do you do when you tell a guy your love preferences but still pushes himself onto you?!” The both of you laugh loudly, slapping the counter since the store was currently empty. 

It was the one hour where customers weren’t absolutely starving for a movie to rent out, so Robin and you decided to just chat. Normally Steve would join in as well, but someone decided to be productive and put the returned tapes back onto the shelves. 

“That’s amazing Robin! You’re so badass.” She chuckles, shrugging her shoulders.

“What can I say? I’m just the coolest-” Suddenly, tire screeches could be heard for the outside, causing Robin and you to turn and face the speeding car. You see Eddie come out of the car in a rush, running into Family Video, seemingly out of breath. “Oh god.”

“Hey Y/N.” He meets you at the counter, holding your hands and rubbing his thumbs against your palm. Eddie knew that you liked it when he did that. Too bad he didn’t know that you don’t only hug and hold hands with your girlfriend. 

“Hey Eds, what’re you doing here?” 

“I came to rent out this zombie horror movie. Henderson cannot stop talking about it and I want to watch it!” Eddie rhythmically slaps his hands on the counter, clearly thrilled that he was going to watch a hit movie with Dustin. You smile at him, expecting an invitation…but none came. So you were left there with a smile on your face while Eddie’s begins to fall, wondering why you weren’t giving him the movie. “Y/N? The movie?”

“Oh, yeah. Um, what is it called?” Feeling a bit hurt at the lack of care for your presence to be there, Eddie seemed to not have picked up on it, but instead, lean over the counter to tell you the name of the movie. 

After giving it to him and checking it out, Eddie greets you a ‘goodbye’ with a tap of the hand and a wave. You can only sigh, looking at your boyfriend, drive away to a movie date with a thirteen-year-old. 

Hearing a hiss from your left, you look at Robin and Steve, who jump at your sudden attention on them. Robin then began to continue her task, while Steve was left there to stand awkwardly. 

“What?” They both look at you, then at each other, before Robin sighs and drops the movie from her hand to the cart. You raise your eyebrow, walking to where they were so the lot of you weren’t shouting across the store. “Is there something wrong?”

“Aren’t you and Eddie dating?” Robin asks, leaning on the shelf beside her. You nod slowly. She only cocks her head to the side, looking at Steve for support.

“It doesn’t look like it N/N.” Steve purses his lips together, putting his hands onto his hips and shaking his head. “It’s like he’s not even into you.”

“W-What?”

“Way to drop the bomb on her! What Steve is trying to say, Y/N is that…Eddie treats you like a friend. Like Gareth, or even Dustin.”

“It’s like he likes Dustin better.”

“Will you shut up dunceface!”

Oh.

“Y/N? You okay?”

You did confess first, and now that you remember it, Eddie only smiled and hugged you. He didn’t kiss you or anything…don’t they normally do at the end of a confession?

“Hey, don’t overthink this. Just think about it. He treats you like a friend, and I haven’t really seen him kiss you. It’s been months Y/N, I’ve kissed girls after an hour of our first date. I think you deserve better.” Steve mutters, facing your cowering figure. You can only look down at your feet, thinking about if Eddie even liked you like that in the first place. 

Did he? Or did he just feel pity for his best friend?

“I think I…I think I need to go.” 

“Y/N-”

“No! Uh-sorry, I want to go home. I feel like I’ve come down with a fever. Like hot, y’know?” You slowly step back, going to the back to clock out. Your manager definitely wouldn’t like this, but it’s okay. What’s one break compared to none?

—

Things happen when you overthink. And you tend to block out the outside world when doing so. 

You’ve come to accept it. Eddie did really only like you as a friend, the signs were clearly there. 

You don’t remember him ever treating you like how other boyfriends treat their girlfriends. The closest skinship you’ve ever gotten was hand-holding and cuddling. It was nothing compared to the kissing you would see in romance movies or read about in books. 

Sure, you shouldn’t compare your relationship to fiction. But they must’ve gotten their inspiration from somewhere, right?

Finally getting out of the shower, you brush over your skin, failing to hear the knocks on the front door. It wasn’t until you were driven out of your thoughts by the sound of repeating pounding. You felt a bit scared but ruled out the potential serial killer since you would think that they were more discreet. 

You throw on a random shirt and shorts, walk up to the door and pull it open. 

Eddie, mid-punch, nearly fell through the door, only holding himself up with your doorway. He groans, lifting up his head to meet your eyes and giving you a gentle smile. 

“Eddie, what are you doing here?” His smile drops at the sound of your negative tone. 

“Y/N! I came to see you. Why, do I need a reason to see my girlfriend?” 

Girlfriend? You could laugh. 

Instead, you just sigh, pulling him towards you by his shirt. Eddie surprised at your sudden actions, giggles a bit, excited at what you’ve just done.

“Eddie, I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“I think we should go back to being friends.”

Eddie, almost like a cartoon, completely stops moving. His shoulders visibly drop, a frown radiating throughout his face and clearly gracing his features with grief. 

“H-Huh? Why?” Exhaling heavily, you shake your head. Eddie wants to reach out to you, hug you, hold you close to him so you wouldn’t be able to walk away! But every time his hand reached out to even touch you, you simply moved. “Y/N? Don’t you like me?”

“Of course I do Eddie! I was the one who confessed first! It’s just…I think our feelings aren’t mutual, and we should remain as we once were. Best friends.”

“But the feeling is mutual!”

“Well, I can’t see it! You treat me like everybody else! To be honest, I think you treat me worse than Dustin!” Eddie shakes his head frustratingly. 

“What?! Why do you think that?”

“Eddie, please. Let’s not end on a bad note. This is what I want, and…as a best friend I think you should respect my decision.” Sadness begins to fill Eddie and he could feel a weight dropped onto his shoulders. 

He thought everything was fine. Why are you doing this?

“B-But…what about what I want?” You only shake your head, blinking your tears away while trying not to look at him. Eddie resembled a kicked puppy right now, and you really didn’t want to see that. Not after all the crying you’ve already done in the previous days. 

“Please Eddie.” He pauses, taking one last look at you before nodding his head. Eddie seemed to finally take the message, turning around and stalking his way to your front door. 

“Y/N? One last thing,” you spin to look at him, who seemed to have all the sadness washed away, but was now filled with determination, “I will get you back.”

—

“Harrington! You’ve got to help me, man, I don’t know what to do!” Eddie paces back and forth around Steve’s living room, hands ruffling up in his hair with frustration. Alongside the teenage boy sat Robin, who actually couldn’t believe that she brought herself into this situation. If anything, she should be beside you, comforting you. “She said we’re better off as friends, but I don’t want to be friends!”

“Well man, I think it’s what she wants then it’s what she wants-” Robin slaps Steve’s head, causing him to groan. 

“Steve! Eddie is obviously trying to save his relationship, why are you convincing him to leave it? You know Y/N wants nothing more than to be with Eddie.” 

“I know! She never stops talking about him!”

“She does?” Robin rolls her eyes at Eddie, whose smile begins to grow on his face again. She couldn’t believe him right now. Out of everything she said, that was the only part he really listened to. 

“Eddie, I think the big thing that made her even think about breaking up with you, is how you treat her.” Confused, Eddie shakes his head out of admiration for Y/N, who apparently couldn’t stop talking about him. Thinking about how he’s been acting towards you, Eddie honestly couldn’t see anything wrong, seeing as he just treats you like before. What else was he supposed to do? “Jesus Christ, I completely forgot that you’ve never been in a relationship or even watched a single teen flick in your life.”

“Of course, I haven’t! Why would I?”

“Steve?”

“What Robin is trying to say, Munson, as much as I wouldn’t want to help you, is that you are zero per cent, boyfriend material.” Eddie visibly deflates.

“That wasn’t-”

“You don’t treat Y/N like she’s your girl. If anything, you treat her like you would Dustin, Mike, and Lucas! Even though the both of you have never been in a relationship before, Y/N has seen movies with couples, so obviously, she would recognize the difference between a friendship and a relationship. And, you don’t even have a cute nickname for her! Only calling her Y/N, not even ‘baby’, ‘sweetheart’, like come on Eddie, if I was with Y/N, I would call her ‘love’-”

“Okay, that’s enough out of you dunceface. You were great on the front line for a minute.” 

Eddie sits pathetically down on the armchair. Has he really been treating you like a friend? He honestly thought that was how boyfriends would treat their girlfriends. 

Well, he has been skipping dates with you. But he thought that cuddling and spending time together in his trailer was better! And, he hasn’t really kissed you…even though he wants to. 

Eddie just doesn’t know when you would actually be ready. 

“Okay Eddie, I could see that you’re starting to overthink. How about, we watch a teen flick and you see how relationships are supposed to be? Would that help?”

As much as he wanted to decline, Eddie slowly nodded his head, accepting that, if he ever was to watch a teen flick, it would be for you. 

—

You could only sniffle to yourself, hugging your body pillow to your chest. A shirt that Eddie gave you that still smelled like him was actually worn by your pillow, which you didn’t think was weird. Not at all. 

You just missed him. A lot. 

Honestly, you didn’t think that you were going to break up with him. You didn’t mean to, it was just that the moment was starting to fill up in your brain, and you were thinking about it for a while. 

But you loved Eddie too much, even though he didn’t treat you like a girlfriend…you still loved having the label, knowing that he was yours and you were his. 

The thought of that made you cry more and pull the pillow closer.

Suddenly, soft music could be heard, making you look up around your room. The radio wasn’t on, and your record player was shut. So where was the music coming from? 

Then hearing a shuffle, you slowly get up from your bed and trudge over to the window. The sight was one for sore eyes, you could’ve never imagined this was one you would’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

From the years of being friends with Eddie, you knew he wasn’t a sweetheart. You knew he didn’t have an ounce of desire for teen romance in his Metallica-dedicated body. So the last thing you expected to see on this tear-filled night, was Eddie Munson holding a boombox under the window sill, playing…Elvis Presley’s ‘Love Me Tender’?

—

Eddie was nervous. He didn’t know if you were going to turn up, but one thing’s for sure, he knew you loved Elvis Presley. Don’t get him wrong, if he was to choose any other song in the books, ole’ man Presley would’ve never been an option. 

But ever since you were younger, you held this secret infatuation for the old rock singer. Owning different records, posters, and different memorabilia, Eddie promised to keep your little admiration completely confidential. However, if he wanted to get you to come out of your room and it all had to be done with one song?

Elvis Presley it was. 

—

You wanted to cry. 

Eddie, in all his beautiful stature, holding a boombox playing one of your favourite songs of all time was too overwhelming. Your emotions were already all over the place and this image that you were trying to keep in your mind was messing it all up already. 

You didn’t want Eddie to stand outside for too long. So instead, you walked down the stairs to greet him…it was really the least you could do. 

“Eddie-”

“Y/N- listen.” Eddie quickly, yet, gently, puts down the stereo, jogging up to you and attempting to make eye contact with you. You couldn’t even look at him. Until he gently takes hold of your chin to bring your face up to face him. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

Oh god. That was it. 

Instantly, tears sprung up in your eyes and you reach your hands to wipe them away. But before you could do so, Eddie quickly takes both of his hands and hold your face sweetly, brushing the tears away from your eyes. You were definitely not used to this sweet Eddie. 

“Eddie…this isn’t like you.”

“I know. But, I think me not knowing how to treat you was the very thing that broke us apart.” Whimpering, you held onto his arms holding your face. This moment was like the movies, and for some reason, you’re wondering if he did his own research. 

But right now, that’s the least of your concerns. 

“Listen, Y/N. I like you…probably more. And when you told me that you couldn’t distinguish whether or not you’re my friend or my girlfriend, I want to change that. I’ve liked you since the first time I saw you fall down at your terrible attempt at ice skating. And for you to think that I thought differently of you completely broke me. I’m sorry.” 

“Eddie…I’m sorry too. I didn’t-didn’t talk to you about it.” Eddie pulls you into a suffocating hug, but you didn’t care. His fingers softly brush on your back, prompting you to wrap your arms tighter around him. “I love you, Eddie.”

You could hear his breath hitch and pull away from you. Despite the sweet setting, you were scared. Maybe you were doing too much, Eddie only really did this because he wanted you back. 

“Y/N? Stop overthinking. I could see it. I love you too.”

Never mind, you and Eddie were going to be just fine. 

—

BONUS:

“Eddie, where did you learn all that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Holding a boombox under my window, calling me sweetheart? I know that’s not you Eddie.” His eyes shift to the side. You begin to laugh, knowing that the conclusion that you were hoping to reach was completely true. 

“Steve and Robin said to watch teen flicks.”

Now you couldn’t stop laughing.

TAGS:

@crunchcake @buckwbarnz @bookobsessedfreak

[kybabi]

telling their s/o that they talk too much

w/ oikawa, atsumu, and sakusa!

(a/n: thank you guys for requesting !!! i really liked this prompt so i decided to write for it :))

there is a little bit of blood in sakusa’s part, but not too much!!

all settings are placed in the timeskip! as always, thank you for your support😽💞)

oikawa

you’d always known you could get a little talkative with those you were comfortable with

every time you got passionate about something, words just spewed out of your mouth

thankfully, your boyfriend was quite talkative too

you loved to listen to him talk about volleyball and the team and you loved to talk to him about the things you loved

you never figured that your habits had bothered him

but when he snapped at you about it one day, you figured you’d misread him

tooru sighs. honestly, he just wants to go to bed.

the day has been quite long. he overworked his muscles, which are now aching quite painfully, and he’s been exhausted all day.

but you’re still going on about something that he really doesn’t care about, and he doesn’t have the energy to pretend he does.

“they had these really adorable decorations at the store, and i was thinking about buying a couple for our apartment! but then i looked at the price tag, and i decided it was way too pricey anyway,” you ramble, hands flailing around as you talk. oikawa sighs.

“why are you telling me this again?”

you laugh. “well, i’m not done telling you the story! anyways, i walked around the entire store...”

you continue along with your anecdote, and tooru can feel himself getting more irritated with every word.

at a certain point, you realize he’s not paying attention, and sigh. you nudge at him.

“couldn’t you pay attention for one second? i’m trying to tell you—”

“maybe if you didn’t just talk all the goddamn time i’d actually want to hear what you had to say, y/n. i genuinely don’t care whether or not you bought those stupid things from the store, alright?” he mutters before getting up and retreating into the bedroom, slamming it shut.

you deflate, all of the excitement from earlier dissipating. you hadn’t meant to talk so much, but you really wanted to tell him about your day. you thought he’d want to hear about it.

you wait until he’s asleep before you cautiously slip into bed beside him, turning on your side and away from him.

the next day is much better for tooru. it’s a good day for the team; everything seems to be going well. he makes excellent sets and the team appears to be pleased with him. he feels elated.

he comes home, happy to see you after a long day of hard work. he finds you in the kitchen and wraps his arms around your waist, gripping you tightly.

“missed you,” he breathes against you. you smile at him, and he sits down on the stool across from the island.

“man, today was amazing!” he starts, looking back on the day fondly. he rambles about how great his sets felt and how the team just seemed to be on their game and how everything just felt right, and you nod along as he talks.

“what about your day?” he prompts, looking up at you eagerly. you open your mouth to speak, but close it. you shrug instead.

“the same as always, i guess.”

there’s an awkward silence as he waits for you to continue, but the words never come.

“really? that’s hard to believe,” he chuckles, hoping you’ll elaborate, but you kind of just laugh awkwardly, and he can tell that you’ve tensed up.

dinner is no better. it’s awfully quiet, and he’s never seen you like this before. he even throws out those stupid puns you hate, knowing you always laugh at them anyway, but you just look down at your plate and push your food around.

when you slip into bed wordlessly, turning the lamp off, he gets antsy and turns it back on.

“what’s up with you? you’ve barely said a word since i got home.”

you look away.

“that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” you ask, voice small.

he pauses. “what?”

you stare up at him, and there’s hurt swimming in your eyes that wasn’t there before.

“i just— i didn’t wanna annoy you again. i know you don’t like it when i talk so much.”

his heart begins to sink when he remembers how he completely turned you down yesterday.

he’s always loved how passionate you get when you talk about the things you love and everything that happens in your life. he didn’t mean to make you insecure about that; it’s one of his favorite things about you.

“that’s not true,” he whispers, sitting beside you and pulling you flush against him. “i love it when you get excited about things and wanna tell me about them. i shouldn’t have said the things i told you yesterday,” he mumbles regretfully.

you look up at him, hesitant. “i don’t want to make you mad again.”

he presses a kiss to your temple, dismissing you. “that wasn’t your fault, okay?” you nod, and lean into him.

“now, how about you tell me about your day?”

atsumu

you’d always been pretty talkative when it came to the things you loved

you loved to go on and on about your favorite tv shows and your hobbies

thankfully, atsumu himself was generally outgoing

he was able to keep up with you in that aspect

even so, even he could only take so much

atsumu buries his face in his arms. he really just wants to sleep. but at the present moment, you’re still talking about that weird show you like.

“i was really disappointed in this episode. i mean, seriously? the characters were so well-written until they completely ruined them,” you huff, annoyed. 

atsumu nods along, just wanting to turn over and go to sleep. he starts to zone out, thinking of tomorrow’s plans. 

“i really hope the next episode is better. people are saying the manga is a lot better than the show, but i haven’t quite gotten to it yet,” you mumble thoughtfully. he groans, irritated. you look over at him curiously.

“what?”

he grunts, not saying anything.

“well, like i was saying, the next episode apparently comes out tomorrow! i was thinking we could watch it together after you got home from-”

“could you just be quiet for two seconds? all of your rambling is getting on my nerves,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face and closing his eyes. at his words, you stop, words forgotten.

“right. sorry.”

you turn the lamp off and slip under the covers, thoughts still buzzing in your head.

the next day, atsumu comes home from practice, exhilarated and exhausted from the work, but happy. today felt pretty great, and he can’t wait to end it with you.

he calls your name when he opens the door, letting you know of his arrival. your response never comes, and he walks through the hallway to see you sitting at the table, headphones in.

you finally notice him at some point and look up, smiling sweetly. he’s about to ask you a question, but your attention is back on your screen, so he stays quiet.

he must say, it’s a little strange. you’re usually already jumping into a tangent about some random thing or asking him how his day was. the silence is a little unnerving.

he sits down with his dinner, hoping that if you see him sitting there, you’ll want to engage in a discussion with him, but you clearly have no interest in doing so. he sighs sadly and continues to eat in silence.

you finally put your headphones down and turn off your phone, and atsumu perks up.

“so, whatcha watching?” he asks eagerly. you stare at him blankly.

“oh, it’s nothing. just the new episode,” you mumble. he pauses.

“i thought we were gonna watch it together?” he answers, and the two of you stare at each other awkwardly.

“oh. i assumed you didn’t want to...” you trail off, looking away. atsumu shifts uncomfortably.

“well, how was it?” he attempt to direct the conversation elsewhere, and you shrug.

“it was okay, i guess.”

he waits for you to continue, but you just sit there, and the atmosphere is tense.

the two of you sit in silence for a while, and it’s uncomfortable.

“oh,” he laughs awkwardly. “that good, huh?” he says, but it falls flat. you just nod and look down at your plate. he winces at your coldness, but before he can say anything, you’re standing up and taking your dish to the sink. you rinse it and then leave, retreating into the bedroom and closing the door behind you.

he sighs, confused. he misses your obnoxious laughter and your endless anecdotes, and he doesn’t understand why you’re acting this way.

he opens the door to see you reading in bed, and he pads over to sit next to you. he lays his head on your shoulder and nuzzles at you.

“what’s wrong?” he mumbles, rubbing a hand over your thigh.

“nothing,” you reply, eyes still glued to your pages.

“seriously, what’s up?”

“i’m fine, tsumu.”

he takes the book out of your hands and forces you to look at him.

“you know you can talk to me, right?” he offers softly, and you scoff.

“really? because the last time i tried, you just told me to shut up. excuse me for trying to be considerate,” you retort, hurt.

his eyes widen and he sits up to look at you. you won’t make eye contact, so he puts a hand on your cheek and tilts it towards him.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, and you look at him reluctantly. “i miss the old you. i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

you sigh, shrugging. “it’s okay. i just take things really personally and i didn’t want to be called annoying again.”

he comes closer and nuzzles your nose affectionately. “you’re not annoying, okay? i love you.”

you laugh, tilting your head up to kiss him. he pulls back.

“wanna watch the new episode with me?”

sakusa

in terms of being talkative, you were definitely way more talkative than sakusa

he was reserved and didn’t have much to say, but you loved to talk about the things you were passionate about

kiyoomi didn’t mind having a s/o like that; even though he himself wasn’t exactly outgoing, he enjoyed your company

but sometimes he got overwhelmed with you, and this was simply one of those times

“man, today was the worst!” you exclaim, dumping the potatoes into the pot. you turn the stove on and sigh.

“my manager was pissed all day and then got mad at me for leaving, and on time too! i had to stay and close because no one was able to cover the last shift and i had to do all of the organizing,” you complain, stirring the pot.

kiyoomi sighs. his head is hurting from today’s practice, and your loudness is only making it worse.

“not to mention, no one even bothered to clean up after themselves. which is fucking stupid, because i had to clean up after them. they’re like children sometimes!” you yell, hands thrown in the air. kiyoomi buries his face in his hands, agitated.

“and while i was cleaning, i ended the up dropping the knife on— kiyoomi?”

his head is on his forearms, and he appears to not have heard a single thing you said. you scoff, annoyed, and attempt to shake him out of whatever faze he’s in.

“babe, can’t you just listen for—”

“my god, do you ever just shut up? all you do is talk,” he spits, irritated, and puts his head back down.

stunned, you stand back, not knowing how to react.

you pad back over to the place where you stood, tending to the food on the stove.

“sorry.”

sakusa doesn’t have practice the next day. his head is feeling much better than it did yesterday, and the pounding is gone.

he spends the day doing some exercise and doing some cooking while he waits for you to return home from work.

at hearing the door open, he perks up, and sticks his head out of the kitchen, watching you. he greets you, and you smile softly at him.

when you walk into the kitchen, he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in. you tense up for a second, and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. but you relax, and so does he.

“how was work?” he asks, and you pull away, moving to sit on the couch.

“good,” you respond, eyes on your laptop.

he pauses. you’re uncharacteristically silent, and it’s making him uncomfortable.

“that’s... good. do anything exciting today?” he asks, expectant. you shrug.

“not really.”

he shifts on his feet, feeling a little awkward.

“well, i’m making your favorite,” he offers, a little smile playing on his lips. “thought you could use it.”

you do look up at him at that, but all you do is nod stiffly and return to your work. he shrugs it off.

but dinner is awkward too. it usually takes you half an hour just to finish a portion of your food, the time spent with your mouth running on about some random thing, but you don’t talk at all. you get up and leave before he can even say anything, and his chest aches. he’s not sure why you’re being so distant.

sighing, he settles into bed, waiting for you to finish showering. but all of a sudden, he hears a whimper and a hiss, and he goes to see what’s wrong.

you’re sitting on the edge of the tub, clutching your ankle. there’s a deep cut just below the bone, and kiyoomi’s eyes widen in alarm. he rushes over and takes your leg into his hands, inspecting the cut.

“what happened?” he asks sternly, and you sigh.

“it’s nothing. had an accident yesterday, and the cut reopened,” you mumble, cringing at the pain.

“why didn’t you tell me?” he scolds, the coldness of his tone masking the worry under it. you laugh dryly.

“seriously?”

“you need to tell me about these things, okay? i don’t understand why you—”

“i tried to tell you, kiyoomi!” you yell, frustrated. “i tried to tell you, and you told me to shut up.”

he freezes, eyes wide, before softening guiltily.

“i didn’t mean—”

“yeah, whatever. just, get out? i need to shower,” you wave him away, dismissal obvious in your tone. you pause when he starts taking off his shirt. “what are you—”

“isn’t it obvious? i’m coming with you.”

you scoff. “you don’t need to—”

he cuts you off by pressing a finger to your lips, and puts his forehead on yours.

“i’m sorry for the way i treated you yesterday. it was unfair to you,” he apologizes softly, and you nod. “i want you to tell me about these things, okay? even if they’re about you being a complete and total klutz.”

you pull back and smack him in the chest, and he laughs.

“shut up.”

[star-archer]

Phone Tag

Summary: You keep playing phone tag with your hero-turned-fugitive lover. When you find yourself working the same mission in the same place, can your paths cross and bring you together once more?

Pairing: post-CA:CW!Steve x Agent!reader

Word Count: 3175

Warnings: brief cursing, brief mention of violence, some more melancholy (I can’t resist the angst, you guys)

A/N: This is my second submission for @pellucid-constellations love letter writing challenge. (Read my Bucky fic here.) I really hope you love it! Post Civil War, Steve’s on the run and hard to pin down. Thanks so much for reading!

⍟⍟⍟

Your phone buzzed in your back pocket, distracting you from the very exhausting briefing presented at the front of the conference table. Something about Hydra, always something about Hydra, and after the year you’ve had, you were ready for a bit of a break. You pulled your phone out to glance at the screen, and felt that warm, familiar kick of giddy excitement at the name on the Caller I.D. Him.

“Something important, Agent?” Your superior halted his presentation with a frustrated sigh, and you silenced the buzz of your phone and re-pocketed it.

“Not at all, sorry, sir.” You grinned.

You loved sending Him to voicemail. Him being Captain Steve Rogers, known hero-turned-fugitive, secret lover to yours truly. He hated being sent to voicemail, always rambled awkwardly until someone, usually Natasha, told him to hang up already, her voice a cackle from the background. But his ramblings were honest, more honest than his phone calls, even at the latest hours of the night when he had you to himself. He was softer then, almost more shy. He could be honest when he knew you’d react and respond at a later time.

So you often intentionally silenced his call, opting instead to play phone tag from across timezones. He was never in the same place twice, and neither were you anymore. Maybe if you’d bother to answer, the two of you could meet up, tag-team a Hydra mission and spend the night wrapped up in his arms like he’d always promised. But maybe that scared you more than you’d admit, so for now, phone tag was the name of the game.

You exited the conference room a half hour later with a stack of manila folders, a recon mission in the Balkans, and a lower level agent chattering your ear off. It seemed fairly self explanatory, in-and-out. Your agency was making a bigger deal of it than it probably was, and you were waltzing down winding corridors with a smug look on your face knowing what was waiting in your back pocket.

—

Your bags were already packed, and you were on a flight Eastward before you could stop for a breather, however, and it was a good few hours before you got time alone again. Throughout the flight, beyond the chatter of your teammates, you looked at the voicemail notification. And, as the you chased the sun to rise again, you unlocked a hotel door room with a keycard and collapsed onto zillion thread count sheets, finally a moment’s peace to sit and listen.

You tapped the notification with your thumb and pressed the phone to your ear, allowing your eyes to slip closed with exhaustion and jet lag as you listened to the dulcet tones of that man’s sweet voice.

“Hey, it’s me… Steve. Think I’ll ever actually talk to you on the damn phone?” He chuckled. “Anyway, I just wanted to call and let you know I’m alive, and I’m thinking about you. I miss you like crazy. How long has it been? Three months? Four? Jesus. War didn’t even feel this long.”

He let out a deep sigh, and you imagined him falling back onto the comfort of his own soft bed, somewhere safe, somewhere warm.

“Okay that’s dramatic. War sucked. But this sucks too. I just want to see you.”

Your stomach ached for him. It had been a while, five months actually, since you last lay your fingers upon that chest cut from marble, since you’d last snuck a kiss between headstones in a Cleveland cemetery. You’d found a few Russian operatives, and Natasha had made the set up. Only a handful of moments, lost like the fireflies between dancing tree limbs, but it had been worth it to feel his arms around you again, his fingertips through your hair and yours clenching the rigid kevlar of his suit.

“I’m in Greece, I think. Somewhere in the Balkans. Hydra mission. Sam said it’s worth looking into, so it’s worth looking into. Don’t worry, we’re being careful.”

You sat upright in your bed, nearly dropping your phone to the pillow below, and you scrambled. There were several seconds left of the call, several before someone eventually cut him off, but you’d listen later. Frantic, you grappled the buttons, punching in his contact to return the call.

Ring. Ring. Ring. You glanced at the bedside table. It was nearing 4AM. If he was there, now, he’d be asleep, or out on the mission.

“Hey, you’ve reached Steve. Leave a message.”

You sighed out a laugh, pushing off from the covers to pace, barbered carpet scratching your aching feet. “Hey, it’s me. I’m in the Balkans. I’m on that mission. I’m annoyed that your phone doesn’t have the option for texting, and I’m even more annoyed that you didn’t wake up to answer my call. It’s 4AM, you’re a hundred. Shouldn’t you be on your morning run? Anyway, call me back immediately. I want to see you. I’m at the…” You read off the stationery on the side table. “Room 704. I’ll be here until noon. Call me back.”

You clutched your phone into your hand and peered through the peep hole of the room, as if he’d listened and appeared like a magician outside your door. No such luck. You pushed off from the door and found the window. The curtain opened to a stunning cliffside view, the sea miles beyond, a vast stretch of nothingness. Just the heavy lids of your eyes, and the panic in your chest that this may just be another missed opportunity.

You rolled out of your travel clothes and brushed your teeth, staring at your phone on the countertop. And then you made your way back to the too-soft bedding for an expertly timed nap.

—

The hot sun fanned your cheeks, undeterred by the cabana umbrella and the ice melting in its glass atop your bistro table. You covered your eyes with a flattened hand, which provided some added shade, but your upper lip continued to bead with brine. Your targets talked a handful of feet away, at their own table, ritzy in linens and rings that clanked when they shook hands.

You’d poured over your book for hours, never reading a word, half-focused on the cell phone beside you, half on the tabletop beneath the Hydra-elite, under which you’d planted a listening device at the beginning of your dip into the pool. You maintained to face away from them, the clear in-ear bugged into your right hand side. They spoke in thick accents, in a language you’d wished you’d bothered to learn more of. You caught the occasion phrase, but knew the recording headed back to your own base in the States would be translated as necessary. You were only there to retrieve the information.

Kids played in the pool nearby, encouraged by their au pair while Mummy got a tan, and you found your focus zero in on them as the third child, a bit older, walked back outside from the restroom. He was lanky, in that awkward phase, and wet hair was beginning to dry in curls around his ears. He wore a white towel, emblazoned with the resorts’ logo, and he brought his hands to his chest to begin to sign.

You recognized it immediately as ASL, one of the few language that had stuck in your training. Your heart trilled with delight as the boy teased his siblings, and then sunk with panic as he turned to face you. He pointed to the device in your ear and you realized the men near you silenced.

“You speak ASL?” The boy signed, and you smiled and nodded, setting your book face-down on the table beside you. You could feel eyes on you from the nearby table.

The boy grinned and pointed at the doors. Then, he signed, roughly, “A big man inside paid me to tell you he’s here.”

Your heart rattled in your chest, and you tried to chuckle away the chill. “A big man?” You signed back, and the boy nodded. With a deep breath, you thanked him. The boy turned and went back to his family, and you made about gathering your things, though the adrenaline of an incoming encounter coursed through you.

Seemingly satisfied by the interaction, the men nearby started their conversation back up, softer than before, a low rumble in your ear, and you glanced their direction through your sunglasses as you stood from your table, flashing a polite smile as one of them caught your gaze and quickly looked away. You left your book, where the pages had already begun to soak in condensation from your glass, and the towel you’d been laying on.

The air conditioner instantly rocked your skin in gooseflesh, nearly freezing the bits of you pooling with sweat, and you let out an exhale the moment you rounded the corner and out of sight of the pool. The secondary lobby area was vast, high ceilings and guests moseying between pillars, and you ducked behind one and removed the throwing star that attached the bits of your sarong to each other. You tucked your knuckles around the two points and prepared for a punch.

At least, you were prepared until a dark hand came out of nowhere and wrapped itself around your wrist. You maneuvered around them, tried to headbutt, but your assailant ducked out of the way with a startled, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy, tiger!”

Sam Wilson grinned back at you, all white teeth and perfect warmth. He ducked his head, waiting for another attack, but instead you put your finger to your lips to silence him.

Then, you put your hand to your in-ear and mumbled, “For the record, I’m using the restroom.” And heard the soft beep of the system shutting off.

Sam waited expectantly, eyebrows raised, and arms outstretched, and you sunk into his embrace. He smelled of coconut and sweat and Sam, and you could have sobbed at the rumble of his chuckle against your cheek. ”How you been?”

You pulled away with a nod, and you couldn’t help but scan the crowd over his shoulder. With every strange face came the twinge of heartache, the twinge of almost-was, of hope. “Good,” you relaxed your shoulders. “You?”

Sam gave you a knowing smirk, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, you don’t care about me.”

“Shut up,” you laughed. “Of course I do.”

He nodded to his right, and you glanced to see the cracked door to a laundry room. The black plaque restricted access to anyone who wasn’t an employee, and your stomach flipped three or four times, imagining what could be just beyond.

“I’ve got eyes on the Hydra guys,” Sam smiled. “I’ll give you guys, what? 7 minutes?”

You shot Sam a look, but couldn’t help the smile that ached at the corners of your mouth. The wingman winked, and stepped aside to grant you access. The linoleum felt cold under your trembling fingers, and you raked them against the surface before pushing. The heavy door swung open just enough for you to slip inside, and you heard it latch behind you.

The room was white, sterile, full of the tumble of several washers and dryers doing their daily turn down services. Washing machines to the left, dryers to the right, and directly dead center, five machines down, leaning against a cart full of white sheets, was Captain America himself. Him.

He pushed off from the cart to stand, awkward, sheepish, hardly recognizable under a growing mop of hair and a full, dark beard.

“Have you always been that tall?” You cocked an eyebrow, the tone of your voice much braver than you felt.

He sucked in his cheeks and shook his head.

The two of you took slow steps toward one another, a scrape of rubber against tiled floors. You fought back the grin threatening to form, and he swung his arm until you were almost at arm’s length, and then he waited for you to take his grasp, and he pulled you in.

He was bigger than you’d remembered, a bear of a man that lumbered his frame around yours, all biceps and pectorals and hair. You raked at the length at his neck and the sides of his face, and he groaned into your neck, and you melted into him as though he were a sponge and you the popsicle in the hot Balkan sunlight.

“Did you get my voicemail?” He asked, knees bent to prop both of you against the only washing machine out of service.

You laughed at that, pressing your lips to his cheek, wherever you could find purchase without a mouthful of hair. The wrinkles at his eyes crinkled, and you kissed them before pulling away to look at him, really look at him, without all the pixels messing up the perfection of it all.

There were greens in his blue eyes, and you saw your admiration mirrored in his own gaze. Both of you laughed, realizing you were doing the same thing, observing one another, being present in the moment, soaking it in. His cheekbones remained high, unaging, and the fur around his lips sheltered the strength of his jaw and softened his fingers. You ran your fingers through it like the coat of a Labrador, and he pursed his lips into the affectionate gesture.

“You like it?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” you pursed your own.

He chuckled, but you watched his eyes darken as his gaze found your lips. He licked his own, leaning forward to nuzzle your nose. You smiled and let you eyes flutter closed, and you sighed as he closed the distance with a kiss.

God, you’d missed that, the way he just gave in. Like every kiss might be his last. It was the gentle intensity of it all, the way he held you around the middle, a large hand reaching to cup your neck and face, thumb circling your cheekbone. It was the rise and fall of his shoulders as he leaned into it, deepened it. It was the press of the small of your back until your abdomens found one another, his carved from marble against your own soft edges.

His beard was the only thing you hadn’t remembered, bristly and soft all at once. It tickled beneath your nose and in the crevice of your lip and chin, but you didn’t mind. It smelled of him, and you couldn’t get enough. When he pulled away to breathe, you dove back in for more, hitting beard when he ducked for a laugh.

“I missed you.” His eyes twinkled mischievously, and his large fingers tucked themselves under your sarong, a graze of skin against your own that sent your back arching.

“I missed you,” you spoke through gritted teeth, clawing at the collar of his civilian shirt. You hadn’t noticed the silky fabric until now, his best attempt at a disguise.

“I don’t have any time,” he said, and you looked up from the navy fabric to see his features fall.

You released his collar and flattened the creases against his collar bone. “If I got injured on this mission, they’d give me a vacation.” You offered it as a ridiculous solution, something both of you knew wouldn’t happen. They’d be suspicious if you got hurt. They’d go looking for him.

“Soon,” he bonked his forehead to yours. “Okay? I promise we can be together soon. I’ll have Nat plan something longer than happenstance.”

You nodded against him, feeling the emotion well. Voicemails were easier. Voicemails didn’t disappoint. The pain of feeling him under your fingertips, of breathing him in, was too much. It wasn’t fair. A soft knock from the doorway beat into your skull, your clenched jaw, your tightened fists. You pushed off from Steve, and his hold on you faltered.

His hand slipped into yours, fingers intertwined, and you led him past the dryers to the door.

“Hey,” he whispered with a gentle tug. You turned to face him, and he leant in for another Earth shattering, knee-weakening kiss. This man, this fugitive, the bane of your existence and the reason you breathe, a sponge to mop you heart that had spilled all over the tile floor.

—

He left you with several mumbled promises and a sad smile. Sam offered the same look of regret, a wave goodbye from across the lobby. You went one way as they went the other. Your mission wrapped up, bad guys on their merry way, information obtained. But the rest of the day, packing your things, the long flight home, it all took a backseat to the veil of heartbreak that lay overhead, the fear sinking into your bones that you’d never be able to be with him, never be able to touch him or kiss him for longer than a moment in time.

You deplaned to more chatter, congratulations on good work. You slipped between coworkers, ordered a ride share home. You unlocked your apartment, did a routine check for intruders, heated up a bag of rice on the stove top, pretended to eat it. Too aching to care.

You showered the sunscreen from exhausted limbs, scrubbed the makeup from your face, rinsing yourself of any essence of him, anything that could have seeped into your skin, and you tiptoed into pajamas and curled yourself under your covers. Relief didn’t find you until you heard the familiar ding of a notification. You scrambled for your phone, discarded on your nightstand the moment you’d gotten home.

1 Voicemail from Him.

You clicked play and laid back against your pillow to hear the low tenor of his voice.

“Hey, it’s me. We just landed in Wakanda. Snuck off to find Buck so I thought I’d call. I’d love to show you this place some day. It reminds me of you. Warm. Beautiful.” He took a pause, his voice low, like he’d been afraid of getting caught. “It was good seeing you today. You looked amazing. Did I mention that? You did. You looked incredible.”

You smiled at his rambling. You missed his rambling.

“I love you.”

You stopped breathing. Three words. You hadn’t said them, not to each other, not yet. You felt them, of course you felt them, but saying them aloud made them real, gave them weight, made the distance hurt more.

“I do. I love you. And I was too chicken shit to say it earlier, but I’ve been thinking it for ages. Probably since the day I met you. I love you.”

You sat upright in your bed. There were several seconds left of the call, several before someone eventually cut him off, but you’d listen later. Frantic, you grappled the buttons, punching in his contact to return the call.

Ring. Ring. Ring. You glanced at the bedside table. It was nearing 4AM.

“Hey,” he answered. There was a smile in his voice.

“I caught you,” you breathed a sigh of relief.

He laughed. “Yeah, you did.”

[jjkafterhours]

Part 5 of reversal of the heart? <3 Also i was the one who requested the part 4 and 3 for reversal of the heart <333

REVERSAL OF THE HEART

PART FIVE

PAIRING;; Toji Fushiguro/Reader

TAGS/WARNINGS;; angst, hurt/comfort, gore, panic attacks, mentions of neglect and abuse, a kiss @brumous11

WC;; 2.5k+

NOTES;; Sorry for the late update !! I’m currently having exams (which I didn’t prepare at all for lmfao) but my next exam’s English and story writing is in the syllabus so I’m happy that’s an excuse to write more fanfic. Your encouragement genuinely warms my heart and I’m really grateful.

TAGLIST;; @m00dycr4nkybitc (tysm <3)

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR

“Are you alright?” “Don’t touch me.” Toji rasps. His head spins, his lines of thought and vision blurred. The hands grasping his were soft and if he did not focus, he would keep mistaking them for somebody else’s.

She does not let go of his hands, her fingers lacing through his. She does not say anything, does not complain. Toji does not she has heard her protest even once, he does not believe that it is in her nature, that it Is the same person insisting that he get up from his bed instead on lying down all day, her hands on his shoulders, making excuses to spend time with him. He looks up at her, confuses her face with one of the past.

No. No. No. No.

The weight returns; it had all been in vain. There was no point in those little outings. He would forever be left behind in the past, and she would be miserable with him, because he could not even look at her. No matter how determined she was to pull him through; people gave way eventually and she would become quiet, her words fading away until all what remained was silence, and one day he would wake up to see that she had left. One had left him by her grave, the other one for the death of his own peace of mind. He could not complain, he did not deserve to; when her only fault was to love him when he could not.

“I can’t do this.” He’s shaking his head, tears stinging his eyes. Since when did he break down so easily?

“You don’t have to.” No, she does not understand-

“Listen,” He says. “You don’t have to stay here. This isn’t going to work.” He wishes he could have married with an empty mind. Like he carried out his jobs.

She remained silent for a moment, her thumb gently stroking the pads of his fingers. “Why?”

“Because you don’t deserve this. You’ll be miserable with me, because I cannot give you what you want, and you’ll hate me.” He is rambling, and he knows it, but the silence is unbearable and he begins to list out all the reasons he isn’t the one for you; how he never stayed at home, how he got angry over the slightest of things, how he could not go to the park without being reminded that it was her favorite place to be. When it’s over, all that remains is his drowned breathing, his gaze unfocused and wild, as if trying to plucking out more things to say out of thin air.

“Please.” He begs. He does not know what he wants.

“What do you need, Toji?” You ask, straightening up.

“Just…” His hands reach out for yours again. You should leave, but I need you to stay, because if you don’t, I’ll be lonely and sad and I’ll hate it. It is selfish; and he knows that it is cruel to ask so much of you. He doesn’t know what to do, how to move forward, how to take care of his children who needed him the most right now. This was the time when they needed family the most. He’s confused, he does not think that he is even a capable husband or father to begin with, and he’s afraid that if he mulls over it too much, he will realize how much of a terrible person he really is.

“Do you want me to stay?” You ask. He nods. You pull his arms around him – his chest heaves with every breath and it suddenly hits you how you would never be able to exactly tell what he feels – but you are content with his head resting at the crook of your neck.

You stop sleeping in different rooms from then on.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

Pain.

Everywhere. Seeping into his bones, the sensation imprinting itself into his head. His mother is screaming, sobbing hysterically. His uncle clucks his tongue in disappointment.

“No Cursed Energy, huh? What a disgrace.” Naobito says. “Send the boy away.”

Disgrace? Why? The word echoes in his head, over and over again, louder and louder until he clutches his head, doubling over and retching. He hears the hurried footsteps of the servants.

“How could Master do this?” “The boy only just learnt how to walk last year!” “Look at what they did to-Mistress! The mistress has fainted!”

Of course, these words were only whispered amongst the women. Nobody wished to openly defy the head of the clan. He stumbled, into the arms of one of the servants whose voice he recognized, feeling bile rising up his throat again.

Why was he a disgrace? He could not even see the things which had come at him. He is too shocked to even cry; and the only thing he feels is disgust.

“Young Master, you need to rest.” He heard one of the servants insist. He nodded slowly.

“I-“ He isn’t able to finish the sentence when another surge of nausea hits him and he rips himself away from the woman to properly empty the contents of his stomach. However, she feels more sympathy than disgust, crooning to him, rubbing his back as he did.

As he is being led away, he sees his mother from the corner of his eye. Being supported by one of the servants, weeping once more as she is led into her room.

Pathetic, he thinks, only for the briefest of moments, before shame hits him. This was what his mother was trying to protect him from. She knew, whatever his uncle had been looking for. She knew that he did not possess it. From the way Naobito looked at him, he realised that it was one of the things which all members of the Zenin clan possessed.

Cursed Energy.

He did not feel anger or resentment towards his mother. Only pity. Pity for the woman who was only trying to buy her son time, trying to prevent him from being humiliated by the rest of the clan. Pity for the woman who had been locked up into a three-tatami room for not being able to bear them a proper heir. He who had fought tooth and nail against the invisible creatures, looked on by the older members of the clan, who did nothing to protect him; this was entertainment to them.

No, they were to blame.

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When you wake up, he is gone. Still drowsy with sleep, you feel slightly hurt when you blindly search for him in the sheets then your vision clears to find nothing, the only evidence being the disheveled sheets.

You do find him in the dining room however. Cradling Megumi in his arms as he sat on the couch. Megumi, surprised by the unexpected show of affection seemed to be frozen slightly, but clung to his father’s arms, struggling to commit the action to memory in fear that it would only be the last time he would. When Toji sees you, he slowly lets of Megumi, who pauses, momentarily confused, then hops down from the couch and runs towards you.

“Morning, Megs.” Huh, you were starting to get really good at coming up with nicknames. Toji smiles faintly at that, as you sit down next to him. Megumi looked curiously between both of you, but his face glowed with happiness. This is what he wanted. This is what he needed.

As Megumi rests in your lap, his legs extended to Toji’s, you feel a hand rest on yours. Toji hesitates, but only briefly, before awkwardly squeezing it.

It’s a simple, sweet action, and the slight sting you felt in the morning immediately dissolves.

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Toji is seven when he manages to take down one of the clan members. It’s a boy, the child of one of the subordinates of the head, who had heard of his condition. 5 years older than him, smug, and petulant. It was not a planned assault, a decision he had taken in the heat of the moment, but he did not regret it. They were all the same.

Kenji Zenin.

Even the name was pretentious, and spelled out irony into the incident even more. Perhaps the boy would have lived up to his name if it had not occurred.

Toji had always been a slow learner. And Kenji enjoyed rubbing that in his face.

He is still learning. He cannot see the Shikigami, but he can smell them out. However, he knows that it would not be enough for him to win the fight. How amusing would it be, for Kenji to see him getting beaten up by a bunch of dogs, wildly flailing around as he struggled on when to attack, when to dodge.

No.

He cranes his neck, clawing at Kenji’s neck, who laughs, sneers at him; choking slightly as he attempts to imitate how his father decided to punish his mother. His fingers claw around the boy’s neck, and he squeezes, hard.

When he feels the shadows below him widen and darken, he knows it is too late. He grinds his teeth in frustration, before screeching loudly. He smacks his head against the side of Kenji’s temple, and the boy yelps, then laughs.

Shut the fuck up, he thinks, tilting his head. A stinging slap makes his ears ring; Kenji thinks that he is going to attempt to spit at him. No, he had thought of something much worse.

His teeth scrape the boy’s earlobe, and he feels the boy stiffen. The shadows waver for a moment, and he senses their physical form tremble, like a broken-down hologram.

This was it. This was the way to victory.

He bites into the boy’s ear, and rips it clean off.

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The nightmares leave Toji in a bad mood for the rest of the day. It was more difficult, knowing that the nightmares were in fact pieces of his gruesome past. His wife looks at him in concern, and he almost calls her the wrong name when he asks for breakfast. He nods slowly, more to himself, when she puts a hand on his shoulder, silently asking if he was alright. He does not explain, but pats the back of her hand in response.

He sees Megumi yawning slightly when he walks into the room, immediately flinching as he felt his father’s eyes boring into him. Megumi slowly turns to look up at him, and his half-asleep state immediately snaps back into one of alarm. Megumi shrivels up the moment he sees him; and scampers away, reminding him of a rat in search of a hiding place.

Toji realizes that he is glaring at his 5-year-old son. Whose birthday was in less than 2 weeks.

Ah.

He had almost forgotten.

The boy’s lip quivers as he retreats back into his room after snatching his plate of breakfast. Probably to cry in his sister’s arms. Sometimes he wondered how he managed to have him as his son. He was so weak, he cried at every little thing that happened to him.

“Toji.” He hears her softly say, and cranes his neck to look at her. Her expression is soft, riddled with confusion and naivety, and for the briefest of moments he sees somebody else instead. It clears his vision, like a veil ripped from his eyes, when he realizes that he had been looking at his son with nothing less than malicious contempt.

“I,” He says, unsure how to explain. He had no explanation. He should go to his son’s room and ask, no, beg for forgiveness, for expecting the boy to go through what he had gone through.

“It’s alright,” She says, “You don’t have to tell me. I want you to take your time.”

He is confused for a moment before he realizes that she was recalling the previous night.

“Ah.” Embarrassment hits him, quick and bitter, it feels worse when she is looking at him like that. She was soft, understanding yet clueless of what he had seen while he slept. And he had blindly reached for her as well, mistaking the present for the past.

He really had to stop.

My dead wife is cockblocking me. Hah.

He wanted to laugh and tear his hair out, at the absurdity of it.

Toji looks at her, really looks. She does not strike him as the naïve, silent woman as he had thought her to be. Even with how he dismissed her, she seemed obstinate on staying by his side; insistent on believing that none of this was his fault.

But it fucking is, his mind screams at him when she sits next to him. She looks light as a feather, her hand brushing his cheek like a petal flitting by. She did not see the blood covered in his hands, the murderer that he was, out of sheer spite of what the world had done to him. When she touched him, the torrent of thoughts slowed down, leaving him numb to them for some time.

Small mercies.

She seemed to notice. She was rather observant; he had to admit. Her gaze flickering from the room to him, gauging his reaction and body language in an attempt to figure out what he was thinking. He had to stop himself from mistaking her kind nature as calculating, to prevent himself from seeing his wife as some kind of secret assassin who was sent to kill him. It was not him that the Zenins wanted, after all, it was Megumi, who, unlike him, had been blessed with the Ten Shadows Technique from the clan.

Truly the only thing the clan had offered the boy.

Toji stares. Pushing down the thoughts, he studies you. He has begun to pick up the little things, the way your lips slightly droop downwards, your open, warm expression often mistaken for timidness; when he knew that you were merely just waiting for him to respond. The curve of your neck, the lines forming your face. He leans in, but is afraid to do any more than that. His skin felt tingly and warm wherever you rested your palm on your shoulder, or laced your fingers through his. Neither of you speak, you sensing that there was something different about his gaze, and him quietly bewitched by you. You’re beautiful, and he is afraid that he will be the ruin of you.

“Give me your hand.”

Toji does not really question when you ask him to do anything. It becomes a recurring theme in his life, where you unexpectedly stop whatever you are doing to swivel your attention towards him, be it teasing, a silly joke he would struggle to not smile at, or this.

He watches as you trace patterns over the scars of his palm. His hands were permanently roughened out from work, compared to your smooth, skin unmarked by any kind of injures. Better him than you, he thinks.

He flushes when you kiss the palm of his hand. He wants to reciprocate, cup your cheek with his hands, perhaps placing a kiss if his anxiety did not overwhelm him. His hands are scraped, his lips chapped, not a pleasant experience at all-

“Can I kiss you?” He asks anyway.

“Yes.” You reply, not missing a beat.

PART SIX PART SEVEN PART EIGHT

[vidalinav]

@imasconfusedasyouare 1) your writing is amazing and I love your blog! 2)For the prompts: Nesta is having a bad day with her mental health and during dinner or something the IC make certain comments about how she’s behaving that makes Cassian go into possessive-mate mode and snaps at them… pretty please 🥺

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1) Thank you!

2) I took a bit of liberty with this prompt. The gist of it is the same, but I couldn’t have Cassian outright tell the IC off when I feel he is wrong himself. So I made a fic where Nesta has a bad mental health day, they do see the others and they do say things, and Cassian is selfish but ultimately they get through it because love is not.

So… here goes nothing.

~

Cassian knows Nesta doesn’t feel good. Maybe he knows her well enough by now to sense her tells or some intrinsic part of his soul sings to him of concern. That when she huddles in their bed, grasping the pillow instead of his chest, she reaches for something he can’t offer her and he knows.

Even so, he lays a palm on her forehead searching for heat and when she shrugs him off, he doesn’t let the feeling make a home in his lungs. He will not yell or chastise or run away with stupid words.

Nesta doesn’t feel good.

Be patient, the voice in his head tells him. Be slow.

Nesta eats less that morning, eats slower, and she stares into space as if she’s asking it questions. He rambles on and she doesn’t listen. She’s waiting for the space to answer, he tells himself.

They go to training. Cassian thinks maybe the routine will keep her grounded, will remind her that she’s capable. That she’s carried more weight than a sword. He asks her if she’s ready and Nesta merely lifts her hands. Fists hit but they don’t hurt. Fists hit but they don’t rage. Fists hit and Cassian thinks something must be terribly wrong. Fists hit and Cassian only wants to hold her close.

He asks Gwyn and Emerie if they notice something off, and they shrug as if they know but don’t want to tell him. Perhaps they know and they just can’t explain. Cassian doesn’t think he could understand if they did.

You can understand, that little voice speaks. You just have to wait.

So Cassian waits. Cassian sits. Cassian listens, and Nesta walks around the house, trailing room to empty room. Nesta doesn’t even turn on the symphonia. He keeps waiting for music, but the egg shaped disk stays closed and Nesta shuts her eyes. Maybe she hears music that he doesn’t.

You offered her time, the voice reminds him. A lifetime of time. What is a few hours? A few days?

But Cassian doesn’t want to wait. Cassian doesn’t want Nesta to feel anything like this–where she looks out the window with that blank expression and she keeps to herself and she sneaks up so quietly she might as well be ghost. Cassian doesn’t want a ghost for a mate.

He can’t wait any longer. Cassian has to do something now, before time slips between his fingers and the floor drops from right under their feet. So, he moves. He makes plans.

Nesta doesn’t argue when he drags her to the city. Nesta doesn’t argue when they go to the streets thrumming with sound. Fill her with noise and laughter, he thinks. Fill her with something I can’t.

But the voice in his head only chastises him. You need to wait.

Cassian can’t wait. Cassian is running out of time.

So he takes her to the only place that will make a difference.

He knows they’re having dinner, and he knows they’ll be together and perhaps they can fill her with the life he can’t.

He takes her to his family. To her family.

But they’re not really her family are they?

Feyre is and so she’s happily surprised to see them, but when she tries to give Nesta a hug, she lays as still as a statue. Feyre notices. Cassian notices. Rhysand notices. Still, they go the dining room where the rest are waiting. Waiting less patiently than him.

That’s when he hears that voice.

Are they really her family?

Cassian wants to think yes, but they laugh with each other and Nesta gets handed a plate. Nesta spoons little handfuls of green beans and mash potatoes and Mor laughs at an inside joke that Cassian knows well and Amren wants to discuss a meeting that Nesta doesn’t attend. Nesta doesn’t know anything about any of the topics they want to discuss. Nesta sits in a tower on a normal Tuesday and gazes wistfully out the window, and sitting here at the table reminds him of that stare.

It reminds him of that stare years ago. On a snowy night in December.

“You’re quiet,” Feyre says after a while. Nesta doesn’t even notice she’s being talked to until Cassian elbows her lightly.

“I’m always quiet,” she says at last, looking to her plate. Cassian watches as a noodle forms a question mark and all he can think about it why, why, why.

“You’re not usually so…”

She looks up at her sister with that blank expression, blinking slow.

“Are you okay?” Feyre asks, concern in her voice.

Nesta doesn’t even think as she says, “I’m fine.”

But he can already see it. The distasteful looks that they hide with a snort. That awkward, you are ruining something look. That you didn’t bring enough smiles for this house. And Cassian knows that they will go home tonight, and something will have gone backwards. That they’ll remember what Nesta’s done, but the Nesta they see will be the first Nesta they think about, and their memory will not be filled with heroic deeds like nighttime fairytales. It won’t even be of a courageous young female who only yearns for her sister to live. They will see this Nesta.

This perfectly good Nesta.

This perfectly, acceptable Nesta. Quiet somber songs or not.

Cassian feels himself moving before he realizes what he’s doing. He can feel himself reaching for her and Nesta looks up as if his movement surprises her. It surprises him, too, but it’s the right choice he knows.

“Let’s go home,” he breathes.

Cassian tries not to let the guilt sink in his chest at her look of relief. The way she sets the fork down as if it’s a great, heavy sword. Cassian won’t let it pierce his heart. His heart is her, and Nesta is going to be okay tomorrow.

But today…

Today, she will watch the sky and listen to nothing and pace back and forth and she’ll feel that restlessness settle in her chest until it settles down quietly. He will protect her ability to grieve. For whatever she grieves. That layer of herself she peels off like paper.

“You’re going home already?” Mor asks, a look of astonishment on her face.

“Nesta doesn’t feel good,” he says. Some part of him wants to say that it was a mistake bringing her here, but he can’t do that. That only makes Cassian a hypocrite and he’s already selfish. He knows who they are. They’re not Nesta’s family…

And this is his fault, not theirs. Not only because it’s the last place Nesta wants to be, but because if he has a hard time understanding her, they don’t even have a chance and Cassian won’t let them make Nesta feel ashamed.

Cassian doesn’t want to make Nesta feel ashamed.

All day he has. When they go to the market, when they walk through the city, when they stop by restaurants and booths and people. When they go to this house and eat with his family, he wants to shame the bad day out of her.

Nothing about Nesta is shameful.

Nothing about Nesta can make him feel ashamed.

“Home?” He repeats and Nesta grabs his outstretched hand. She says a goodbye to Feyre who raises her hand with a small tainted, tilt of her lip. They’re there for a mere thirty minutes before they’re gone.

And when they get home, she goes to the library. Nesta huddles up on the sofa with her favorite book, and sometimes she stares out the window in between pages.

Cassian sets a blanket on her shoulders, careful not to touch her unless she asks. He wants to hold her, but it isn’t about what he wants. So he covers her in I’m here cotton, keeps her warm in I love you wool. He will set his I’m thinking of you tea beside her table, and he will wait and wait and wait. Wait until the night grows dim and he does.

And at some point in the night, he falls asleep on the large chair across from her. At some point in the night he feels her climb in, her body huddled close. Nesta takes the blanket with her and she covers them both. He only needs her, Cassian thinks. He only wants her, but the blanket lays on top of them like a shield. It’ll protect them both in its embrace.

Nesta tucks her head in his neck, he can feel her cold nose on his skin, and she burrows into him, her hands rummaging beneath his shirt. The touch sings as much as it burns, but he falls asleep to the sweet smell of lavender and the soft sound of her breathing.

It’s the most wonderful music he’s ever heard.

In the morning, Cassian wakes up to the symphonia playing and Nesta’s smile is the sun.

~

Fin

~

Tagged: @my-fan-side, @sophilightwood, @nestaarcher0n, @duskandstarlight, @soitsgorgeous, @ekaterinakostrova @swankii-art-teacher, @lordof-bloodshed, @arinbelle, @thewhelk, @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell, @lovelynesta, @sirendeepity, @champanheandluxxury, @ladynestaarcheron, @moodymelanist, @teagoddess99, @spoilersteph, @drielecarla,  @angelicvoice19, @bo0kmaster69, @generalnesta

~

Don’t know where these fics keep coming from, but doubt it will last so I’m enjoying the ride.

[nev3rfound]

small changes have the biggest impact : b.b

being with bucky, you've learnt to be rather observant, but when it comes to small changes about yourself you seem to be rather oblivious. that is until you start to pick up on the small signs that you might be pregnant (1.3k)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

requested: yes! by the very sweet @marry-me-calum-hood warnings: none that I'm aware of, but if there any please let me know!

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

Standing in front of the mirror, you could see him eyeing you from the bed. He was watching your movements closely, noticing you swaying from side to side and glancing at your ass from various angles.

“Does my ass look bigger to you?” Running your hands over your curves, Bucky licks his lips. "James?"

Snapping Bucky out of his thoughts, your glare breaks his daydream. "I, I mean," He stutters over his words and watches your gaze lower to the floor. "baby, I mean," Rising to his feet, Bucky rushes over. Now resting his hands on your hips, he kisses your neck sweetly. "you know, back in my day,"

He listens as you groan loudly, pulling his hands off of you as you spin to face him.

"If you dare start one of your old man stories, Buck," You roll your eyes, moving past him to pick up the nearest hoodie and slip it on, exiting your bedroom before he can say anything else.

*

"So, you all know the plan?" Steve questions, looking around at the three of you before the door lowers.

Scoffing lightly beside you, Bucky rests his hand on your waist. "We know the drill, Captain." Bucky salutes, not missing Steve rolling his eyes as he picks up his shield. "How you feeling today, doll?"

Bucky isn't oblivious, far from it. He's noticed some small changes in your attitude of late, how much you're now tugging on clothes or hiding your body from him. You've been feeling queasy during training or sit it out entirely when usually you're volunteering to fight your boyfriend at any given opportunity.

"I don't know, Bucky." You admit quietly, not wanting to draw attention from either Nat or Steve whilst their backs remain turned. "My suits been feeling a bit snug, and I know Tony didn't have it dry cleaned so it's not shrunk."

Humming to himself, Bucky can't help his eyes from wandering over your body. "You look beautiful, Y/n. If anything you're looking curvier." He comments quietly to you, brushing his lips across your cheek with a smile before Steve glances back to see you both.

"You two good?" Steve asks.

"Yeah." You nod, moving away from Bucky and stand beside Natasha. "Let's do this." You force a smile on your lips as Bucky's words linger in your mind. Bucky doesn't mean any harm, and you know that, but for some reason, it's hitting you deeper than it should.

Exiting the jet with Natasha, you follow after her instead of going with Bucky. "Hey, you two alright, pal?" Steve notices the frown forming on Bucky's face and his eyebrows furrowing together as you turn left into the building whilst he heads right trailing behind Steve.

"I think so." Bucky states uncertainly. "Y/n's been feelin' a bit off." He explains, keeping his gun raised behind Steve.

Once inside the building, Steve keeps his shield up whilst Bucky remains behind. "Nat said the same to me earlier." Steve remarks. "Told me she's got this glow." He shrugs his shoulders, unaware of Bucky's eyes widening.

"Glowing?" Bucky repeats. "Oh my god." He laughs lightly to himself, starting to put the events of the past six weeks together. "I, I've gotta find Y/n."

"Buck," Steve sighs, glancing over his shoulder to see Bucky already exiting the building, muttering through the comms for your location.

"Hate to say lover boy but Y/n's back on the jet." Natasha groans, causing Bucky's pace to quicken.

"Is she okay? What happened?" Bucky questions with urgency seeing the jet coming into view.

"Relax, she was just sick." Natasha rolls her eyes, continuing through the building. "She thought it would be best to sit it out. we can handle it."

"Thanks again, Nat." Your voice quietly interrupts their line, and Bucky can feel his heart rate calming at the sound of your soft words, the reassurance you're fine and close by.

Forcing yourself upright you grab a hold of the nearest gun, keeping it trained on the door as movement begins to stir outside. Taking a deep breath, you position your gun, ready to fire as it opens.

"Woah, doll, it's me!" Bucky yells, holding his hands up as he's greeted with a gun cocked in his direction.

"Oh," A nervous laugh sounds from you before you lower the gun to your side. "sorry 'bout that, Buck."

Dropping his own gun, Bucky hesitantly walks toward you. "Baby, is everything okay?" Bucky scans your face, noticing how your brief smile drops, allowing yourself to relax and you shake your head.

"I, I'm not sure, James." You whisper, closing your eyes.

Bucky pulls you over to the seats on the sides of the jet, sitting beside you he rests your hands in his, brushing his thumb over your knuckles delicately.

"It's me, Y/n, you can tell me anything." He quietly reminds you.

"I know." You sigh, forcing your eyes open to face his, only to see him looking back at you with all the confidence in the world. "Bucky, I, I think I might be pregnant." An involuntary laugh escapes your lips, quickly followed by a small cry as you clasp your hand over your mouth, tearing it from Bucky's grasp.

"Oh, Y/n." Bucky hushes, lifting his arm to bring you into his embrace as you sob into his chest.

"Are you, are you disappointed? I, I haven't done a test yet, but it makes sense, right?" You ramble, staring down at the floor.

Removing his arm from around you, Bucky mutters your name. "You, you really think I'd be disappointed?" It hurts his heart, that you'd think something like this would upset him. "Doll, this is everything I've ever wanted, but only if you do too."

Reaching for your chin gently, Bucky lifts your head up to see tears lining your cheeks whilst your lips quiver. "You, you want this?" You manage to ask between sobs.

"With you, always." Bucky reassures you, barely having time to process before you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into his chest. Smiling to himself, Bucky rests his arm around your back, listening as your sobs subside. "We're going to be a family, Y/n." He states, listening to how natural it sounds rolling off his tongue.

"Then we better get you back in one piece." Natasha speaks up, breaking you two from your moment as she and Steve stand in the doorway with the files you all came for. "Can't have lil Natasha hurt." She winks before taking her seat opposite you.

"Or Steve," Steve comments, lowering his shield before patting Bucky's arm lightly.

"Yeah, no," You chuckle, remaining in Bucky's arms as you look over to your friends. "but nice try, guys."

Natasha smirks to herself whilst Steve tries not to frown. "Either way, we're getting you back in one piece, that's our niece or nephew in there." Steve points to your stomach, causing Bucky to cover it with his hand protectively.

"Don't you two worry," Bucky smiles down to you. "we've got it covered."

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️(if your user isn’t tagged, it’s because nothing comes up sorry!)

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[itsallyscorner]

Favorite Time Of Day

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Summary: Taking naps with Tom when you’re done with Zoom meetings for school🥺

Warnings: none :)

A/n: I literally thought about this during class and couldn’t stop thinking about it. I always take naps when I’m done with all my Zoom calls for school, so I thought why not make it into a fic? So enjoy my loves💖

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

he’s so cuddly🥺

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

You listened to your professor explaining the lesson at hand. This was your fourth and final class of the day, it was around 1 pm and you were finally feeling the drowsiness of waking up at seven in the morning. As a college student, you could have chosen later classes and save yourself the hassle of waking up so early. You were considering it, but decided to go with a morning schedule since you’d be able to get your classes over with earlier and have the rest of the day to yourself.

You continued to jot down notes from the PowerPoint your professor shared on Zoom, not really paying attention to what you were writing. You already understood the lesson, he had gone over it last week, but decided to dive in deeper to the material today.

Your professor’s words went through one ear and out the other. Your mind was too far gone to focus on the lesson, too busy thinking of the cuddle fest that’ll happen after your classes. After every school day you had at home, you were drained of energy to go on with your day so you took naps to recharge. Majority of the time your boyfriend, Tom, joined you. He didn’t go to college; he spent his mornings doing interviews to promote his new movie, having meetings for future projects, and sometimes reading through new scripts for upcoming roles. Though his work at home was probably less taxing than yours, he also felt the effects of the day on him once his tasks were done. So once you were both done for the day (work wise), the two of you would meet in bed, quietly talk about your days, and drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.

You felt the sleepiness ease off your body once you hear your professor begin to wrap up his lesson, “Alright, well that’s all I could fit into this meeting. We’ll continue on Wednesday and I’ll see you all then!”

You bid your teacher goodbye and leave the meeting. Before getting up and leaving your makeshift office in the dining room, you double check all your work and tidy up your things. When everything seemed finished and clean, you got up and stretched your limbs. A content sigh passes your lips as the tension from sitting all morning releases from your body.

You hear light pitter patters from around the corner before Tessa enters the dining room. Her doe eyes land on your figure, moving to approach you. You smile, leaning down to greet the staffy with open arms. She nuzzles herself into your chest while you give her scratchies and kisses all over her face.

“What have you been up to all day, darling?” You coo at her, fingers scratching behind her ears. Tessa makes a noise as if she were replying, “Hmmm, sounded like you’ve had loads of fun today, Tess.”

You stand straight on your knees and motion to the hallway that led to your and Tom’s shared bedroom. “How do you feel about a nap, hm? You’d like that wouldn’t you?” You talk to the dog as you lead her into the bedroom. You pass by Tom’s study on the way and hear him talking about Cherry. Interviews must’ve gone over time today, you thought to yourself. Not wanting to disturb his interview, you quietly pass by the room and enter the bedroom. You softly shut the door behind you and settle into the comfort of your bed.

You exhale, letting the softness of the pillows and blankets consume your body. The scents of you and Tom linger in the sheets; the first thing you smell in the morning and the last before you go to sleep. It was your favorite smell, though it might seem weird, the combination of yours and Tom’s natural fragrances was like another symbol of your love.

You snuggle under the sheets, which have grown cold after being abandoned all morning. Tessa follows suit, making herself comfortable against your chest. You didn’t want to drift off without Tom, so you occupied yourself on your phone for a couple of minutes. You ended up on TikTok, scrolling through your FYP, while your other hand rubbed patterns onto Tessa’s short fur.

A few minutes later, the door creaks open, capturing both your and Tessa’s attention. Tom pops his head from behind the door, the look of uncertainty immediately replacing itself with a smile when his eyes land on you and Tessa.

“There you two are. I went to check up on you in the dining room but you weren’t there. Then I realized Tessa was also gone so I checked the back garden and you both weren’t there.” He explains. He pulls off the knit sweater he wore for today’s interviews, leaving him shirtless in only his boxers and socks.

“We haven’t been here for long, just a few minutes.” You hum. Turning your phone off, you reach over to your nightstand and set your phone onto it. Tom lifts the covers and slides in behind you. His chest is flush against your back, causing warmth to fill your body. Tom presses a few kisses along your shoulder and neck before your lips capture his. He maneuvers his arms around you so that he’s holding both you and Tessa.

“Mmm, my girls.” He nuzzles his face into your neck, his fingers reaching out to scratch Tessa’s head. The dog may have grown fussy, not even a minute of being wrapped in your and Tom’s arms she wriggles her way out of your hold and hops off the bed. Instead she walks over to a cool spot on the hardwood floor and settles herself onto it.

“Teenagers.” Tom playfully scoffs. He rests on his elbow to look at Tessa over you shoulder, “I’ve raised you since you were a pup and this is how I get treated. No affection whatsoever.” He tsks at his dog, who responds with a huff. You stifle a laugh while Tom dramatically gasps, collapsing onto the mattress. A giggle bubbles out of you.

Turning around, you’re met with Tom’s face smushed into your pillow. “Always the drama Queen aren’t you?” You tease him, fully turning your body so that it’s facing him.

Tom expressed a smug smile, “Well of course, darling, I’m an actor after all.” You shake your head at his antics. Tom chuckles at you. His buff arms pull you in closer so you’re once again flush against his chest. Nimble fingers expertly sneaking past the barrier of your shirt and now lightly dancing along your lower back.

He stares at you with his warm brown eyes, they look at you adoringly shifting between different aspects of your face. You eyes, your lashes, lips, blemishes—he loved it all. You probably found imperfection in them but to Tom they were the little things that created you—and he adored them.

In the haze of each other’s arms again, your fingers found themselves running through the mop of curls that were on Tom’s head. They were like silk and you enjoyed the feeling of it between your fingers. One of Tom’s hands remove themselves from behind you to gently hook your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. He tilts your head toward him and slots his lips with yours. Your lips move naturally against each other’s. The kiss was soft and sweet, with no intentions of escalating into something more steamy. It was simply two people in love savoring the moment of being in each other’s presence. He never fully breaks a kiss without pecking your lips multiple times. He didn’t know when it became a thing, but he could never just kiss you without following it with a bunch of little mini kisses that made your nose scrunch up and the cutest giggle to come out of you.

Tom lays on his back with your head on his chest, “How was your morning, lovey?” You tell him about your day and he listens intently. Even though he doesn’t understand half of the things you’re referring from class, he still loved to hear you talk. Especially when you ramble about something you were excited about, like right now. Your hand had removed itself from his chest, making gestures as you talked about the lesson from your Calculus class.

You stop midway noticing that Tom had been staring at you with a lopsided grin on his face.

“What?” You ask, a questioning smile on your lips.

“You’re so smart.” He hums, one of his hands stroking your hair and the other tracing shapes onto your back. You whine as he teasingly smothers your face with kisses. That giggle that he’s obsessed with escapes your lips, causing him to grin widely.

When you finally get him off of you, you ask him about his morning. He beams, excitedly telling you about all the things that happened during his interviews. The passion he had for his work shined through as he went on a tangent about how proud he was of the movie.

“And now it’s my favorite time of day.” He finishes, wiggling closer to you in the sheets.

You chuckle, “And what would that be?”

“Napping with my bubbs.” He murmurs against your hair. His grip around you tightens, locking you in his arms. Your arm rests on his chest, hand right above his heart where you could feel the distinct rhythm beating in his chest.

“I love you.” You whisper, pressing a kiss onto his bare skin.

“I love you to infinity.” He responds before the two of you drift to sleep in each other’s arms.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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