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norrizzandpia · 27 days

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So American (OB38)

Summary: To the song So American by Olivia Rodrigo. In which a Brit and an American fall so deeply in love with each other.

Warnings: suggestive scenes, language, so much fluff omg, reader is from America (specifically California), reader wants to be a writer and loves Jane Austen, reader loves London, idk if you can tell yet but this is HEAVILY indulgent, reader goes to University of San Francisco (that part is not self indulgent lol)

Note: I couldn’t help myself ive had this idea for too long, my debut Ollie Bearman fic! I hope you like it because i do 🤭

Eighteen and baby-faced, Y/n thought her trip to London with her best friends would be fun and outrageous. She expected when they touched down in Heathrow that the trip would bring countless amounts of unique memories. It was part of their celebration of completion in their first year in college, a week-long trip to one of their favorite places to welcome the desperately needed summer.

None of them expected for Y/n to slam into a tall body when they were running to a musical before the doors closed and none of them expected that tall body to be that of another eighteen year old who found the short, American girl too cute to tear his eyes away from.

Ollie hadn’t been expecting much when he decided to take a day trip into London, wanting to spend the day wandering around one of his favorite cities. Though, when his eyes graced him the vision of y/h/c hair and a flushed girl frazzled in front of him, he knew it would be one to remember.

She was short, almost too short as his neck craned down to meet her eyes and the two murmured out apologies as he knelt down to pick up her bag that had dropped when they both rounded the same corner too fast.

Her ID slipped out, California’s name in bold letters right at the top and made Ollie laugh.

”American?” He smiled as Y/n’s friends glanced at each other from the side.

Y/n grinned, “Yep, American.”

Part of him knew getting into business with someone who lived on another continent couldn’t be smart, but he couldn’t bear to think of not seeing her again. Her beauty struck him and there were no thoughts in his mind when he asked for her number when she mumbled something about having to leave.

Y/n’s wide eyes turned around to meet his once more, “My number?”

Ollie nodded, his hand in his pocket and clutching his phone, “Your number.”

Her friends behind her giggled before shoving her toward the British boy who they had no idea was not your average or normal eighteen year old. Y/n took his phone lightly and pressed the correct digits. When she returned it, her name staring back at him, he blushed, “Y/n. That’s cute.”

Her cheeks warmed just like his as her friends began tugging on her hand and yelling about making the showtime, “What’s your name?!” She yelled as they dragged her away.

He waved with a beam, “Ollie!”

Ollie. That’s cute.

—

That summer, Y/n never went back to California. The moment she began talking with Ollie and he began taking her out on dates before she was supposed to leave, she knew there would be no way she could leave him. She canceled her flight back after Ollie had begged her to stay, and told her friends they needed to go back without her, that there was something more she needed to explore in London.

The girls had anticipated it, honestly. When they had seen the dazed grin on their friend’s face every time she came back from seeing the boy, they knew there was not enough willpower to hold her back from changing plans.

She would come back for the next school year, but it was clear if things went well, which they seemed they would be, she would stay for the summer.

And that she did.

Ollie forced her around all of England, showing her his favorite nooks and crannies of the country he grew up in. They would spend hours in his car as he drove her around, to the end of the country and back, just so she could experience his favorite view too. Their moments spent together forced the two to get to know each other wholly. Y/n found out about his racing career, gaped at him when he mentioned his Formula 1 race, and Ollie found out about her mundane life as a student at University of San Francisco. Honestly, he loved how regular she was. He craved her stories of college parties and nights spent up until three AM trying to turn in a paper. He loved her life stories. She loved his. They made for a good duo.

When the end of the two months drew near, tears were shed and words of distance were stressed. As they stood at the entrance to Heathrow, Ollie held Y/n in his arms and promised to find another time for her to come visit him, or one where he would come visit her. He was insistent and while they wouldn’t say it then, they were already in love.

That proved true a few months later, after calls and texts back and forth, when Y/n turned up at Heathrow once more. She was on Christmas break, one that granted her time to see her boyfriend, and while her family had been supportive of her skipping the holiday to go see someone that clearly made her so happy, she still felt a bit guilty to cancel. Though, that feeling diminished when she descended down the escalator and found Ollie holding a large sign with her name on it in pinks and greens, a large smile on his face as she yelped out and sprinted toward him.

“OLLIE!” Her bags dropped and she flew into his arms as he yelled her name back, the sign he had worked so hard on thrown to the floor the moment she got close.

He kissed her cheek and the two were looked upon adoringly by bystanders in the airport as he gently set her down on the ground, kissing her softly and whispering how much he had missed her.

When he led her out of the doors, all her belongings in his hands, they smiled brightly at each other as if to confirm how much they would make this month worth their while.

—

Drivin’ on the right-side road, he says I’m pretty wearin’ his clothes. And he's got hands that make hell seem cold. Feet on the dashboard, he’s like a poem I wish I wrote. I wish I wrote.

Ollie clutched Y/n’s thigh as he drove to their favorite spot, one he had shown her during the summer. Her head lulled to the side, staring at him lightly and lovingly right when he glanced at her, his eyes roaming over her body.

Her eyebrows pulled together, “What?”

He smirked, “You look pretty wearing my clothes.” His fingers traced up her stomach to tug on his sweatshirt that adorned her upper body. The way it draped largely over her made his heart warm and how she had the hood pulled up over her messy hair made him want to pull the car over and kiss her silly.

She looked cozy. Cozy enough that his hand traveled under the material to rest around her waist. His warm hands made her feel more sleepy, the clock in the car reading a time too early, as she cuddled further into herself. Ollie noticed the yawn that drew from her and smiled to himself, his eyes averting back to the lonely road they were on.

“Can I put my feet on the dash?” She murmured, eyes closing and head tucking further into his sweatshirt.

Ollie patted her leg, “Sure, baby. I’ll wake you up when we’re there.”

He turned the music down enough for her to find sleep again and when her phone pinged beside him, he glanced down randomly. His head had snapped back up before he could genuinely realize the notification he had seen. When it dawned on him what he might’ve seen, his eyes drifted down once more and tapped the screen to see it again.

A notification from In-n-Out stayed put on her screen and he stifled a laugh before whispering, “Oh, she’s so American.”

—

And he laughs at all my jokes and he says I’m so American. Oh God, it’s just not fair of him to make me feel this much. I’ll go anywhere he goes and he says I’m so American. Oh God, I’m gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up. I might just be in lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love.

Ollie howled from laughter as Y/n giggled, her joke going over better than she expected. She knew it was funny, but she didn’t think the red in his face from not breathing was necessary. Still, she admired the way he admired her and went along with his hysterics. When his breathing regulated and his hunched over position came back to a seated one on the cold bench in Hyde Park, her stares were finally noticed by him.

”What?” He asked, arm wrapping around her shoulder as he shoved a piece of croissant in his mouth. He offered the last piece to Y/n and she took it, murmuring before putting it in her mouth, “Nothing. You just think I’m funny.”

Ollie’s eyebrows rose and he blew out a breath, “I think you’re hilarious.”

”I wonder how much you’ll laugh with me when you’re wasted.” Y/n’s head cocked to the side as she lost herself to thoughts.

Ollie giggled, “Probably an annoying amount when I’m pissed.”

Y/n’s jaw dropped in horror, “Not when you’re pissed! Don’t pee yourself!”

The couple turned to each other in confusion, Ollie fully taken aback, “Who said anything about peeing themselves?!”

Y/n jabbed a finger into his chest, “You did!”

Ollie pushed her softly, his hand on her waist drawing her back to him, “No, I didn’t!”

Her head fell into his chest in a fit of laughter, “Yes! I was talking about getting drunk and then you just brought up pissing yourself!”

In a moment of realization, Ollie found himself howling with laughter again. His hands clutched her frozen ones in the midst of winter before he got out, “It means the same thing! Wasted and pissed! Drunk!”

Her mouth fell open as she began to understand. Then, she pulled a face, “Why would you British people say pissed? That’s weird.”

Ollie gasped with a smile, “Hey! Don’t be rude.”

She crossed her arms, “You’re the one that insinuated peeing yourself.”

Ollie groaned and scrambled from the seat, running away from her with loud laughter, “Get away from me, American!”

She got up, rushing after him, with strangers giving them questionable looks as they began running through the bushes and trees of Hyde Park,

As she followed after him, his smile getting caught in her mind, she realized she had never felt this way about anyone. Sure, she had had guys in the past, but none of them compared to Ollie. The time they spent together, whether over the phone or in the actual presence of the other, always left her with a fuzzy feeling. A fuzzy feeling she always wanted to feel. The idea of forever was premature, but she was beginning to believe she was in love with the boy running away from her and jokingly berating her for being American. If she was in love, why not entertain the idea of marriage in her daydreams?

When she reached him, falling into his arms roughly with continued giggles, he leaned in and kissed her softly. The look in Ollie’s eyes when he pulled back made her think he might just be in love with her too.

Maybe they could entertain the idea of marriage in their daydreams together.

—

God, I’m so boring and I’m so rude. Can’t have a conversation if it’s not all about you; the way you dress and the books you read. I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when he’s with me, when he’s with me.

Y/n brushed her teeth in the white of Ollie’s bathroom, his parents having generously let her stay in their home during her stay for Christmas. Her best friend, Charlotte, stared back at her from the phone. Their FaceTime had just started and Y/n hadn’t waited to say any greetings before jumping into rambling about Ollie.

”Charlotte, I’m so obsessed with him. I think it’s unhealthy.” She laughed, Charlotte laughing with her. Ollie eavesdropped on the other side of the door. “He’s so sweet and attentive. He remembers all the little things and even suggests things he thinks I’ll love. Which I always do. The other day, we were walking around Sussex and he saw this small book in a window and forced me into the shop. Turns out he had found a Jane Austen Pride and Prejudice First Edition. He told me he remembered how much I loved that movie and that storyline. He even referenced exact sentences that I had said in the midst of my rant about how much I love Jane Austen books. I looked at the price tag, holy shit, Char, it was so expensive. I made him leave the store immediately because the look on his face told me he needed no convincing in buying it for me. I thought I was in the clear, but apparently he’s friends with the owner of that store, so he went in early the morning after, while I was still asleep, and bought it for me. He surprised me with it along with breakfast in bed. I almost cried, Char. He’s even started reading it with me because he knows how much I love it.”

Charlotte’s eyes twinkled at the look on her friend’s face. Charlotte loved Ollie for the way he treated Y/n. “That is fucking insane. This man is in love with you, Y/n.”

Ollie’s heart exploded in his chest from the other side of the door. He had been caught.

Y/n’s whispering was loud enough for him to hear, “I think I’m in love with him too. I can’t get over his smile and his favorite pair of shoes that he most definitely needs to repurchase. I love his humor and how much he wants to make me happy. I love how he makes me feel so wanted and important. I love everything about him from his ratty Ferrari sweatshirt to the moles on his cheek.”

Ollie almost started giggling, jumping up and down like a schoolgirl, at her confession. He was ecstatic. This feeling was better than when he scored points in his first Formula 1 race. Yet, he didn’t want to let her know he knew yet. He wanted to plan something, something big that would show how serious he was about her.

The two friends hung up the phone after Y/n realized what time it was and rattled off to Charlotte about Ollie waiting for her in bed. Charlotte tried not to point out the suggestive nature of her statement, but she failed. “Use protection!” She yelped just as the phone hung up. Y/n stood in the threshold to Ollie’s bedroom, him staring back at her as the two took in Charlotte’s warning.

Ollie flopped down into the sheets, Y/n falling right into his arms. He kissed her neck and whispered, “She doesn’t need to worry. We will.”

They wouldn’t end up falling asleep until far into the night.

—

I apologize if it’s a little too much, just a little too soon, but if the conversation ever were to come up I don’t want to assume this stuff. But, ain’t it love? I think I’m in love.

Ollie couldn’t wait to tell her. Let her know that he felt the same way. And Y/n couldn’t wait to tell him about her most favorite idea, one she had come up in the wake of telling her best friend how much she loved her boyfriend. Neither of them knew the other had something so serious to discuss as they drove down the quiet street. Ollie had shoved her in the car, telling her he was taking her to a picnic under the stars. He threw his coat over her, taking his other for himself, and drove the few minutes before arriving at the open grass area near his house. He helped her out of the car, leading her to the trunk to get the box of food his mother had helped him make in preparation for this, and found a perfect spot with the clearest view of the sky.

The cold, winter air made them curl into each other, creating the perfect amount of warmth to stay. Y/n didn’t know how to breach her topic as they popped spoonfuls of soup into their mouths. Ollie beat her to it.

“Can I tell you something?” He whispered, finding her soft eyes.

She nodded, “Of course, baby.”

He sighed, putting his soup off to the side and trying to rid his body of unnecessary nerves. He knew she felt the same. Still, his hands shook slightly, not from the cold, “You have completely wrecked my life. You were so unexpected and not something I was ever anticipating, but I am so happy you fell into my life, Y/n. I will always look back on that moment at that random corner in London with so much love because…” He took a deep breath, “I love you and that was the start of you and me.”

Y/n’s face beamed and she set her soup down, throwing herself into Ollie. He fell backward, the two falling into a heap of limbs on the blanket below them. She kissed his face all over with sloppy, lovesick kisses, “Ollie! I love you too!”

He would never get over how her voice sounded whenever she said his name. Sure, she had said it in annoyed manners before when he had ticked her off, but, even then, he loved the way her accent sounded around the syllables. Never did he think he would be putting American accents first before British ones on his list of most beloved accents. Though, he was beginning to find that her smiling face was getting him to do a lot of crazy things lately. Like, buying a book worth thousands of dollars and reading it along with her. Chilling.

She tapped the back of his palms before tugging lightly on his fingers, “I have something to run past you.”

He nodded, pulling her between his legs and stroking her back. She let her legs wrap around his waist as they continued to sit on the blanket, “You know how much I want to be a writer? The reason why I’m studying English and everything?”

Ollie continued nodding, tilting his head as to tell her he had no clue where this was going.

She cleared it up quickly, however, when she nervously rambled, “What if I transferred to a UK university?”

Ollie’s heart almost flew from his chest, “Like, move here?”

She gave a small smile, “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always wanted to move here and study here. I love it here. But, now,” She kissed his lips, “I have more of a reason to. Would that be something you’d be okay with?”

He scoffed, “Would that be something I’d be okay with?! Fuck, yeah! Oh my God, Y/n, please move here. Holy shit, move here.” He begged with the cheekiest grin on his face.

She laughed, “Okay, okay. I still have to be accepted, but I have good chances with my grades and everything.”

Ollie shook her body lightly, “No, you’ll be accepted. If I start a manifestation journal specifically for this, would you judge me?”

Y/n cackled, “No, go right ahead. Tap into that spiritual force, Bearman.”

He kissed her hard, happy it seemed to work out for them. God, he wanted it to work out for them so bad.

—

ONE YEAR LATER

Y/n walked down the street to her dorm, a quizzical look etched into her face as she rounded the corner and ran into a hard body. Her eyes found his familiar ones from her position below him and his smile welcomed her home after a long day.

Ollie laughed, “We have got to stop meeting like this.”

She tucked herself under his arm as they began walking, “You just need to stop walking so fast.”

He laughed at her comment before leaning down and kissing her cheek, “How was your day?”

She groaned, “So long. English in a UK university is much more in depth than I was expecting. It puts American colleges to shame. Plus, for lunch, the waiter screwed up my order.”

Ollie frowned, “Oh, no. What’d they mess up?”

Y/n gave him a sad smile, “I asked for chips with my sandwich and they gave me French fries.”

There was silence before Ollie shook his head with a soft smile, “Baby, French fries are chips here.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, “What do you mean?”

He playfully rolled his eyes, “No one says French fries here. If you want that, it’s chips.”

She stood in front of him in a stance that suggested this was an outrage. He chuckled at her, “Then, what do I say if I want chips?!”

He pushed her hair away from her face lovingly, “Crisps, love.”

She huffed and turned away, walking down the sidewalk before he quickly caught up with her. She grumbled from under his arm, “You need to teach me these crazy discrepancies.”

Ollie nodded and kissed her hair, “It’s not my fault you’re so American, but sure, I will. We can start now.”

Apparently, that sufficed for her as she let out an agreeing noise, “Yeah, so where are we going for this date.”

He put his finger to his lips and shushed her, “No, it’s a surprise.”

Her mind loved the fact that he was so obsessed with planning their outings by himself. She loved how much he initiated everything. She had never felt so taken care of. She always envied the girls loved wholly by their boyfriends and now she had that for herself. There would be no day that would come that she took advantage of the boy she fell in love with two summers ago.

She shrugged, “You better be happy I trust you so much, I’d follow you into a dark cave without any questions.”

Ollie squeezed her, “I mean, I follow you anywhere you go, so if you’re not going into that cave, I’m not either.”

He pulled her down the stairs to the Tube as he slipped her backpack off her body and onto his. She kissed him in appreciation, “So, it’s settled. No dark caves.”

Ollie shook his head and led her to the place they needed to be. He held her hand tightly as they weaved through the crowds, his head flicking behind him to check on her frequently before just pushing her in front of him, his hands around her waist as he steered her.

When they got to their platform, he added his last thought to their conversation, “We need to get married first before wandering into dangerous caves.”

He said it so nonchalantly, it made her fall in love with him more. And when he met her eyes after he was met with silence, he found overwhelming joy within them.

He kissed her in the midst of the chaos underground, his hands cradling her face and hers loosely around his waist. They were a sight for sore eyes, but no one saw them in the midst of their special moment.

It was just for themselves and would be referred back to in the coming years as the moment where their forever really started.

Bloody hell, they were so in love.

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #ollie bearman #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman x y/n #ollie bearman x female reader #ollie bearman fluff #Spotify

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peachesofteal · 6 months

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Simple Math / Part One

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, nurse!reader, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, Johnny is a flirt, Simon is a basketcase. You meet your new patient, and his ghost.

“Johnny.”

He blinks.

There’s so much noise now, an overload of sensation ringing between his ears. Ripping and tearing, shouting, booming. The night lights with blue and green explosions, whistles of rockets singing through the sky.

He blinks again.

“Johnny, stay with me.” Simon’s calling to him, hands firm against his belly. “Eyes open, Sergeant.” There’s fear there, terror drenching each syllable. White-hot, mind-numbing pain radiates from where a palm presses against his wound, gaping hole torn through his stomach, river of blood spilling from his body. Pint by pint flows freely from him to the dirt.

He’s never seen Simon like this before, the whites of his eye gleam like bone. Terrified. Frantic.

It must be bad. He must be dying.

As he blinks, Simon slowly disappears, morphing into someone else, eyes and nose molding into another’s, Price’s face taking the place of his partner’s without preamble. Fire douses the air, red and purple explosions dancing above his head like a halo. Angelic light, falling from heaven to earth, just to take him away. Fire and blood. Fitting end for a Catholic, he supposes. Gaz yells something into a radio. A fruitless effort.

“Si.” He tries to reach, tries to pull him close, but his arm is dead weight, along with the rest of him. “Ah love ye. Tell- tell her, Ah love-”

“Stop.” The word is barked over another ricochet. “Lay still. You’ll tell him yourself.”

“Simon.”

“No, Johnny. You don’t get to say goodbye. Not yet.”

Hospitals are dreadful places.

For most people, hospitals hold the memories of the worst moments in their lives, loss of loved ones, loss of self, painful injuries, frightening medical procedures, or mistreatment by medical professionals. The sanitized, whitewashed walls and off-white linoleum even have a certain scent, a smell that people associate with fear, discomfort, pain. It's globally accepted that hospitals are not well liked. They're not popular or particularly enjoyable. No one wants to go to the hospital.

But to you, the hospital is everything.

It’s where you spend a large amount of your time awake, willingly choosing to be here over anywhere else. Picking up odd shifts on different units, offering to cover for coworkers, staying late or coming in early whenever it's needed. It's your place. Your only place. It's where you make connections, where you're good at something, where you can be seen but never noticed. It’s what you dedicate your life, your time to. It’s what you cling to. It’s where you find your own peace, your own solace. Where you can let go of everything at home and focus on what you’re good at, caring about your coworkers, honing your skills, taking care of your patients. It’s yours. A place where you’re sheltered, where you can be yourself and not have to look over your shoulder, or keep your voice down, or mince your words. Somewhere you know what to expect, where you can predict, most days, the outcome of most things. Where you can feel in control. Its consistent, solid. It’s your safety. Your sanctuary. Nothing can hurt you here.

It's everything to you.

The elevator dings, announcing its arrival, and you curl your hands around your coffee out of habit, warming your palms.

“Good morning?” The friendly face inside greets you, nodding towards your tall mug, steam wafting from the top, hot and fresh from the café. They're a rad tech, you're pretty sure. Day shift. Parker, maybe? The elevator is always the same. Hellos, goodbyes, floor to floor. No one bemoans their outcomes or tallies their losses here. No one celebrates their successes or accomplishments either. It stays void, unfeeling, unknowing, except for the comings and goings.

“Hey, yeah. Good morning. Good night?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” They agree, and you bounce on your toes, stretching the front of your new sneakers, trying to get the bridge across the tops of your feet to loosen a little.

“Have a good rest of your day.” You give them a smile, and then hop off, ready to start your morning, as most of this side of the hemisphere gets ready for bed.

“You too.”

“And room two sixty-eight is stable, sedated, for now, but he bottomed out less than hour ago, so keep a close eye. I haven’t had a chance to orient him either, so give it a go, if you can.” Mal taps her passcode into the tablet with one eye closed, spine slowly relaxing downward with exhaustion. “Thank you again. For covering. I wasn’t about to be stuck on another long swing because Alexis decided not to grace us with her presence.” She rolls her eyes, and you incline your head in response, shrugging her off. Mal saved your ass six ways to Sunday when you were a new nurse here, and you’d do just about anything for her, and coming in when your coworker decides she wants to be a slag doesn't even count, considering you prefer to be here anyway.

Shift change bustles down and up the floor, night shift coming on, days and others leaving. You make polite small talk with everyone, since you don’t know them as well. It’s their Friday. Tomorrow is your Monday; you’re just picking up. Everyone is thrilled to have you though, including the charge nurse, and you allow yourself to sink into the ups and downs of their conversation, back and forth about weekend plans, their kids, their relationships, their issues.

In a group like this, you're seen. Not noticed.

Just the way you like it.

“Oh!” Mal calls out, breezing by the pit with her bag slung over her shoulder, watered down iced coffee in her grip.

“Go home.” You chide, and she sucks in a breath before opening her mouth again.

“I am, but one last thing-“

“Malaya. I got it.”

“I know, I know but this isn’t in the chart. Two sixty-eight, he’s military. There are three others here with him, two kind lurking in the hallway, and his partner is in his room, refusing to go home. He’s…weird. Got special permissions to bypass visiting hours.” She raises an eyebrow. “But they’re all quite fit. Caused a bit of a… stir.” Great. The last thing you needed in the ICU is a stir of any kind. You needed it calm. Peaceful.

“Okay, got it. Thanks. Now shoo.”

You check your email, skimming with speed, skipping over anything HR related, starring skills updates to look back at later, and casually replying to a request for a float to the PACU another day this week- Hi! I’d love to pick up a few hours if I can arrange it. What time are you needing? Before moving onto checks for your patients (too many, if anyone asked your opinion- which they wouldn’t, because why would administration want to ask a nurse their opinion on anything, right?) ensuring that everyone is in good shape, stable, relaxed, resting, or even better, fully sedated. Two of your patients are on vents, and you check in with the RT on shift before heading down the hall to your last, first stop of the day.

Two sixty-eight.

Two men are slumped over and asleep in the hallway chairs outside the room, arms folded, thighs spread wide, chins tucked to chest. One of them younger, probably closer to your age, chiseled jawline akin to Adonis, the type of rich beauty that would make anyone do a double take, and an older, albeit not by much, muscled, broad chested man with a distinguished moustache curling above his lip, eyes hidden beneath the rim of a hat.

These must be the guys causing the stir.

You stop outside the slider of two sixty-eight, drawing a deep breath before knocking and then pulling the slider, fogged glass parting to reveal your patient asleep, sedated, in the bed, and his partner, a hulking mass who sits at attention by his side. He’s broad, clad in black sweats, heavy arms and straight back showcasing his size- massive. The sweatshirt hides definition but judging by the appearance of the two in the hallway and your patient, you’d guess this guy was just as fit. He looks uncomfortable, body too big for the chair, brow creased with worry overtop the black cloth mask that covers his nose and mouth.

There’s something, in his eyes. Something devastated. Something you’ve seen before, in people who sit vigil like this, preparing for the worst, praying for the best, and something else, something that you recognize, but rarely see inside these walls. Something dark and severe, foreboding, even with part of a handsome face peeking out over the mask.

He's already half lost to his grief.

He could be a ghost.

“Hi.” You whisper your name with a small smile and point to your identification tag. “I’m the overnight nurse.” You imbue the words with sweetness, kindness, but he doesn’t respond, just traces you from head to toe and gives a perfunctory nod. It’s not abnormal for a patient’s loved ones to be less than warm, especially to the graves nurse, the one who ends up interrupting their sleep at odd hours of the night, the one who’s usually here when the worst happens. You never take it personally. You’ve sat in that chair before. You’ve known the pain of this heartache, the way their hearts are cleaving in two, one half desperate to stay beating, the other begging to be lowered in a grave alongside their loved one.

You give the silent man an opportunity to speak when you step up to your patient’s monitor, and then motion to the man in the bed.

“This is John? Mr. MacTavish?”

John MacTavish.

You’ve already read his chart back to front, memorizing his labs, his last vitals check, going over the scope of his procedure from this afternoon, and the tentative plan for the morning.

He’s a mess. Collapsed lung, hemothorax. Broken ribs, internal bleeding. Perforated liver. Broken wrist. Lacerations all over his body. Third degree burn on the entirety of his lower right quadrant. Shattered femur. Fractured hip. Triaged and treated in the field with less than stellar medical care. Came off the medevac and went right into surgery that lasted nearly ten hours long.

Lucky to be alive.

“Johnny.” He corrects, his Manchester accent sharp, rough. You type it into the chart, making a note that Johnny is the preferred name, over John, and duck down to check the bag that’s attached to his foley catheter. The man across from you tenses but doesn’t say anything, tracking your every movement like he’s nervous you might harm your patient.

“I’m just going to check this dressing. I would prefer not to wake him, so I’ll be as gentle as I can, okay?” You explain, motioning to the wrapped portion of his body. He doesn’t respond, just sits still as stone as your fingers nimbly move his gown to survey the would and it's dressing before putting everything back in place. You’re quick once you’re satisfied that it looks okay, tucking the blanket back in around him, careful not to jostle where his leg is immobilized, wrapped in gauze and elevated. “I know this has probably been a very frightening and difficult time for you.” You tell the man in the chair with a whisper. “If you need anything, have any questions, concerns, I’m here. For both of you. I’ll be here at least four, five nights a week as long as he’s on this floor, so we’ll get to know one another.” When he still doesn’t say anything, you try to fight the awkward feeling that’s vibrating up your spine. Okay, he clearly doesn’t want to talk to you. That’s fine.

Your patient groans. His partner startles, body jolting, and then he’s on his feet, leaning over the bed, eyes searching, anticipating. He looks so… unsure. Worry etches across his face as he waits, and his hand hovers without purpose above the bed, flailing in the air like he doesn’t know what to do.

You stand back for a moment. Your patient, Johnny, will mostly likely be lucid for the first time in who knows how long, and you’d like a chance to orient him, let him realize his partner is here with him, tell him he’s going back in for surgery in the morning, before giving him some more pain medication.

The monitor beeps, signaling an increase in his heart rate, respiration, spiraling upwards until-

“Johnny?” The question is hopeful, nervous, and your patient grunts, tongue darting out to lick his lips before they crack open.

“Simon.” The name is a whisper, heavy with relief, and you make a mental note. Johnny and Simon. Room two-sixty-eight. “Whit happened?”

“You’re in the hospital.” Simon explains, anxiously glancing at you. “Can I… can I touch him?”

“Of course. Carefully.” He lowers his face to Johnny’s so slowly, so gently your heart skip a beat, tapping their foreheads together cautiously.

"Yer here." Johnny whispers, the fingers in his good hand barely lifting, reaching out to try to touch Simon, even though his body won't cooperate. "Thought Ah dreamed ye." You can see it, the heavy burden of love that lays between them, the thing that's brought them to this point, the thing that shines in Johnny's eyes as he tries to drink in the frame of Simon's face, tracing his features over and over, painting a picture to take with him... wherever he goes.

What is it like, to be loved like that? To be known like that? To be held in someone's heart, cherished and protected?

You had no idea, but these two did. Just one look, and you knew these two had something people all over the world would kill for.

“I'm here. I'm right here." Something wet and desperate is caught in Simon's throat, and Johnny’s lips tug into a weak smile before it fades away with a grimace, his partner straightening with a wide hand tight on the bed railing, knuckles turning white with the strength of his grip.

“Hi.” You tell Johnny your name quickly, eager to get the less important stuff out of the way and start working towards getting him some relief. “I’m your overnight nurse. How’s your pain?” He frowns in consideration before groaning.

“’s alright.”

“Don’t be brave.” Simon says, and you nod in agreement.

“I’d like to get you some relief now so you can sleep, if we can.” Pain management can be a delicate conversation with patients, and you never truly know how they’re going to respond until you get to this point for the first time. You smile down at him, and he gives you one back, sleepy and sweet, bright blue eyes peeking out beneath drooping lids.

“Bad.” He croaks, and Simon glances at you in expectation. You nod to reassure him, reassure them both.

“Alright. Let’s get you something, yeah?” You log his vitals with a few taps on the tablet. The order’s already in the chart, and you ready the dosage, turning your back to give them some privacy.

“Where’s-“

“At the Price’s.” Simon murmurs, voice low, it’s deep rumble vibrating around the room.

“Ach.” Johnny groans something out, but it’s lost to his discomfort, and you wince in sympathy, wiping the hub of his port with an alcohol swab.

“Okay. So, this should go a long way with your pain.” you tell him, disconnecting his line to replace it with the flush. Simon tenses, again, practically flinching in the chair when you approach Johnny with the first syringe of saline. His eyes crease in concentration, watching your fingers, trying to keep up with your movements. “I’m flushing the line.” You explain gently. “Then I’ll push the medication, like this,” You’re quick with your hands, swapping the syringes and then slowing down to administer the medication at the correct push rate. Simon visibly relaxes, only a fraction, after the explanation, and once you’re done, you attach a new flush. “It’s saline. Compatible with the body, we use it to make sure that all the medication is moved through the tube.” He’s focused on your movements, and you reattach the fluids line before patting Johnny’s shoulder softly. “There, all done. He should be feeling much better here in a moment or two.”

“Cheers, bonnie.” Johnny slurs, and you huff a laugh.

“I’ll be back in a half hour for a vitals check, and then after than I’ll leave you be for a while. You do have another surgery scheduled for tomorrow morning, early-“ you glance at Simon, hoping that someone came by to already talk to him, and he nods. “So, I’ll see you before then too. I’m always a click away, if you need something.” You point to the button on the side of the bed. “If either of you need anything, I’m here. Okay?”

“Whit surgery?” Johnny grunts. Simon’s jaw flexes behind the mask, but he hesitates. It’s long enough that Johnny tries to rouse himself, and you rush to answer, to settle him.

“You have a broken hip, and your femur is shattered.” Nothing like ripping the band aid off. “Orthopedics will come by in the morning to talk about the plan, but they have to go back in to continue to work on the repair.” You don’t mention that his leg is still partially open, packed for reentry in six hours, that the damage to his lung and liver took priority when he came in, and by the end of that, the swelling in his leg was too severe to continue. You’re not the doctor, so it’s not your job to advise your patient or his family of his prognosis, really. You need to keep him calm, comfortable. Alive. Advocate for him, for both of them. That’s the job. Simon can tell him what he wishes, when he’s lucid.

Johnny’s lashes flutter, and he mumbles something, fingers curling in Simon’s grip. You take your cue, checking your watch. “I’ll let you get some rest.” You enter a quick vitals check, and then turn to leave.

“Thank you.” Simon murmurs to your back, and you pause half step, head turned over your shoulder.

“Of course.”

Six hours later, you’re slipping back into the room to say good morning to a groggy, but still somewhat alert patient.

“Good morning.” You whisper, and then frown a little at where Simon is still sitting in the same spot, upright with heavy eyelids and mussed hair peeking out from the black hood. He looks like he hasn’t slept for a single moment, blue black circles shining under his eyes, stiff and uncomfortable in the too small chair.

Maybe we could get a recliner in here.

A big recliner.

“How’re we feeling this morning?”

“Alright.” Johnny grumbles.

“He’s in pain.” Simon snaps at you abruptly, insistent, and irritated, and your muscles tense instinctively before you forcibly relax them, un-bunching your shoulders from beneath your ears.

Deep breath.

Simon’s head cocks, just slightly, and then his attention is back on Johnny, two hands cradling one another, fingers intertwined like they’re afraid to let go.

“Okay, let’s see if I can get you a little bit of medication.” You pull out your phone, flicking open your work app to message his doctor. “They’ll probably order a small dosage of dilaudid, have you ever had that before?”

“Na.”

“Might make you a bit loopy. I’ll have them give it to you when you get upstairs.” You glance at Simon. “Did you get down to the café, grab something for breakfast?” He shakes his head no, and you briefly considering encouraging him before realizing it will probably go over like a lead balloon. You smile at Johnny instead. “Your partner tells me you prefer to go by Johnny?”

“Does he?” He blinks, blue eyes alight behind sleepy lids, looking over to Simon like he’s caught a kid in a cookie jar. “Aye, ah jalouse ye kin ca' me Johnny, bonnie.”

“English, MacTavish.” Simon murmurs, stroking a soft semi-circle into his arm with his thumb.

“Ye can call me Johnny, pretty girl.” He speaks slowly, dragging his consonants and vowels until he gets to the last two words, an impish smile twisting his lips.

Pretty girl.

It’s suddenly incredibly warm in this room.

You roll your eyes on instinct as you’ve trained yourself to do whenever a patient lobs a compliment or a flirtatious quip at you, but it’s usually only ever old men. Or women.

Not beautiful, sculpted Scotsmen with sleepy smiles, stunning blue eyes, and mysteriously handsome, brooding partners.

You clear your throat, self-conscious, and startle just a bit when you hear the door opening, OR team sidling through to bring him upstairs.

“Alright, well. This team will take great care of you, and I’ll see you tonight when I’m back.” You pour positivity into your words, a practice you’ve maintained during your career, thinking good things for your patients, being positive for your patients. A good attitude can go a long way, especially for patients who may have a long road ahead of them, like Johnny.

Slipping out the door, you turn your head to where Simon listens to the surgeon intently, brows lowered, nodding occasionally, and splitting his attention between the (what you’re sure is) a one-sided conversation and where Johnny is half awake in bed, a nurse and two techs busy around him, prepping for the walk and elevator ride, their hands still clutched together.

Johnny looks over, small sigh expanding across his chest, locking eyes with you for a moment. You freeze, taken aback by the clarity in his gaze, his face shifting from uncomfortable and pained into a small smile, lopsided and sweet.

You give him one back and disappear down the too-white corridor, new soles squeaking against the floor.

Badging out always twists your stomach with the same kind of dread. It's Tell-Tale Heart kind of dread, something that starts in your mind and spreads through your bones, a symptom of malignancy, sickness that ties you in knots, tips you over into dark waters with waves that break too close to the shore. It keeps you rolling your neck and shoulders over and over to release some of the tired tension that’s been building in your back, trying to relax and ease the anxiety that's building up inside you like a tea kettle.

You’re half sleepwalking, mind already wandering when your shoes squeak to a halt outside of two sixty-eight on your way to the elevator, in front of the door parted to reveal Simon sitting in the chair by Johnny’s empty bed, arms crossed, head tipped backwards.

Is he asleep?

You purse your lips and tap against the glass with your knuckle.

“Hi.” You call to no response. Probably asleep. “Simon?” you whisper his name, and once he doesn’t respond, you turn the dimmer all the way down, satisfied that he’s getting some rest. You set your uneaten banana and protein bar on the little table by the bed before sneaking away, sliding the door shut with a satisfying click.

The weather this morning, this evening, is gorgeous. The sun is a golden orange orb peeking over the horizon, spraying a myriad of colors ranging from pinks to yellows across the rooftops of the city, dipping the morning commute in an effortless glow. It feels good on your face, the warmth, and you roll the long sleeve shirt that you wear under your scrubs up to your elbows to soak it in through your forearms too, stopping to stand still for a moment, for the first time in hours, in front of the back entrance to the hospital.

In the sun, in the light, it's easy to close your eyes and pretend that you're something, somebody else. Easy to tilt your face to the light and let it wash over you, bathe you in fire, burn you clean like a witch on a pyre.

Your watch beeps, dragging your focus to where it displays the time, a stark and devastating reminder that you have to get going, and you give the hospital one last look before beginning your trek to the train.

See you tonight.

#peaches writes #simple math #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x soap #ghoap #ghoap x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #soap x reader x ghost

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moonstruckme · 7 months

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Hi Mae!! Could I request Spencer x bau!reader where Spencer is losing his mind when reader is in a dangerous situation and the team doesn’t understand why he’s panicking so much but then he accidentally reveals to the team that he’s been dating reader for awhile

Hi honey! Thanks for requesting :)

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 880 words

The team hasn’t heard from you in nearly an hour. Spencer knows, reasonably, that an hour isn’t that long. He can do lots of things for more than an hour. Read, walk, work through calculus problems. He’s sat through terrible, awful movies that were more than double that amount of time. The flight here had been nearly three hours, and it had felt like nothing to him.

But when you’re supposed to be undercover and have stopped checking in, the hour since your last message is broken up into minutes, seconds, milliseconds. Not one of them goes by unnoticed. Because Spencer can’t help but imagine the possibility of you spending that time scared or in pain.

He’s pacing in front of the board, trying to find the missing piece that will enable the team to go in and get you out of there, when JJ says his name sharply.

He looks over to find the team staring at him. “Yeah?”

She shakes her head, bewildered. “I’ve called you, like, four times. Y/N’s on her way out.”

Spencer can’t tell if he’s stopped breathing or only just started. “

What?” his voice comes out hoarse.

Hotch nods in confirmation. “She just got a message to Garcia. They know she’s FBI, but she managed to get out. She’ll be here any minute.”

Spencer’s out of the tent before he even really processes moving, eyes scanning the parking lot. It’s two precious seconds before he catches sight of you, a shout ripping from his throat as he runs over.

You make a tiny sound of surprise when he collides with you, grabbing clumsily at your form. He can’t tell if it’s him shaking or you, but whatever you say is muffled against his shirt collar as he presses your face into his shoulder.

A moment later, he remembers why he’d been so desperate to see you in the first place and pulls back, hands moving over your shoulders, down your arms.

“Are you okay?” The words feel like they shudder out of him. “Did they hurt you?”

“I’m okay,” you say, taking his wrists in your hands and ducking to look him in the eyes when he persists in his search anyway. “Hey, Spence. I’m okay.”

“Why didn’t you check in?” He knows for certain it’s him shaking now. It feels like all he is is a jumble of frayed nerves. “Wh—why would you wait so long?”

You shake your head at him, and his brain is moving too erratically to decipher whether that slant to your brows means confusion or concern. “I had to lay low, but it couldn’t have been more than an hour—”

“An hour and four minutes.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, taking him by the shoulders and squeezing lightly. “Spence, honey, it’s alright, okay? I’m sorry I didn't check in earlier, but I’m alright.”

Spencer gathers you against him again. His body doesn’t know that you’re alright, but he’s trying to prove it. You’re here, he tells himself, in one piece and without visible bleeding. He can feel you, your hands against his back, your chin jutting into his shoulder.

It’s a longer hug, this time, less desperate, but he still doesn’t let you go all the way even when he does, cradling your face in both hands and pressing a firm kiss to the top of your head.

“You scared me,” he says. Or wheezes, more like.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, and Spencer shakes his head, because that’s not what he wants. He doesn’t want you to be sorry, he wants it to have not happened at all. For you to work the same job without ever needing to take the same risks, so that he can go to work every day and know that he doesn’t need to worry about you. You give him a wry smile, and he wonders if you can tell what he’s thinking. One thing he does know is that you’d never agree to it.

Spencer can’t walk you back into the tent with his arm around you, but he does the next best thing, placing a hand at your elbow as he turns around. And right there, illuminated from behind by fluorescent lights like some harbinger of bad tidings, is Morgan.

“Glad to see you’re okay, Y/N,” he says, looking already like he’s left surprise behind and is well on his way to amusement. “Wouldn’t have come out here if I’d known Boy Wonder was gonna have the welcome committee so well under control.”

“Don’t,” you chide lightly, and Spencer’s hand stays on your elbow, but it’s really more you walking him towards the tent than the other way around. “He’s had a rough couple of hours.”

“You’ve had the rough couple hours,” Spencer corrects you.

“We all have,” Morgan mediates, flicking an eyebrow up at Spencer. “Though I have to admit, some of us seemed to be taking it even rougher than the rest. Wonder why that could be.”

You shoot him a look as you go into the tent, and Morgan holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Hey, your secret’s safe with me.”

Spencer’s still too rattled to scoff, but he doesn’t believe that for a second. The entire team will know before you get back to the jet.

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witchy-scribblings · 9 months

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your annoying roommate gojo satoru (mdni)…

❀ roommate gojo who had flirted with you on your first meeting during the tenant screening that your actual landlord had entrusted to you and who, against all odds, had turned out to be the best option among the applicants.

❀ roommate gojo who keeps everything tidy around the flat while his room is a mess of clothes carelessly strewn about and a perpetually unmade bed.

❀ roomate gojo whose designated fridge shelves (and, sometimes, some of yours) are always bursting with sweets, energy drinks and takeout leftovers.

❀ roommate gojo who leaves his room in the morning without caring to throw proper clothes on, parading his perfect body around and having the audacity to tease you for staring.

❀ roommate gojo whose sleep schedule is so messed up you will sometimes wake up when the hour is unholy and hear the muffled sound of tv through your bedroom door. despite this, he’s usually up before you are, and rarely takes any naps that you know of.

❀ roommate gojo who, when he’s done showering, leaves the warm and addicting scent of his body wash and aftershave in the bathroom. his hair always drips water on the floor, but you’ve long given up bringing it up to him.

❀ roommate gojo who honestly doesn’t spend a lot of time in the apartment, being the busy and mysterious man he is, but, when he does, he makes it his unpaid job to be noticed.

❀ roommate gojo who always fake moans when you’re on call with literally anyone (especially if he knows it’s a relative), to the point where no one is surprised by his antics anymore.

❀ roommate gojo who always brings his one-night-stands to your shared place. sometimes it’s women, others, men, but it’s always goddamn loud. you wonder whether he does this because he fucks most comfortably in his own bed or to spite you somehow. you get the feeling it’s the latter, because the next morning he always replies to your murderous glare with that shit-eating grin of his.

❀ roommate gojo who interrupts you when you’re busy studying or working, and as annoying as it is, you know it’s his way of making sure you take your breaks.

❀ roommate gojo who has heard you masturbate late at night through the thin walls separating your respective bedrooms, and who has jerked off to it way more than once. you don’t know that he knows that you own and thoroughly enjoy using a ridiculously loud vibrator.

❀ roommate gojo who refuses to admit that he comes the hardest when he catches the breathy sound of his name on your lips, and that the notion of you touching yourself to the thought of him fills his stomach with butterflies and keeps him up at night more than he already does.

❀ roommate gojo who tops his breakfast pancakes with absurd amounts of syrup and berries.

❀ roommate gojo who hogs almost all the popcorn and snacks when you watch a movie together, and who doesn’t care that you flinch closer to him when jumpscares come on, or that you sometimes fall asleep on his shoulder and he has to take you back to your bed.

❀ roommate gojo who is so infuriatingly childish and petty, yet so thoughtful and distant at the same time, and you wish he’d stop teasing and flirting jokingly with you because you don’t know how much longer your heart can take being just his roommate.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk smut #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk hcs

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tornado1992 · 4 months

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Sonic is acting strange.

From the moment he entered the cave at the top of the mountain and going on even after Shadow finished the battle, he was more energetic, talking faster than usual, to his friends’s eyes happier than they had ever seen him before. But deep inside his mind and heart, he felt more melancholic than anything.

Rouge said something about to going visit Shadow, wherever he’d gone, though it’s not probable that Shadow would gift her a powerful gem of inter dimensional proportions, it’s still a possibility. He finds himself comfortable with the idea of either of them guarding it, after all, Shadow would never let it bring chaos to their lives again, and now he knows Rouge it’s a better leader than he could ever be, they both would make the right call.

Sparring with Knuckles was as much of a way to get the stress out of his system as it is a reminder that the guardian isn’t a glory driven danger prone sailor, nor a extremely paranoid jungle survivor, and definitely not a soldier willing to hit an 8 year old if it means saving the world, no, he’s just Knucks. Ready to put him back in his tracks every time he goes off, same old Knucklehead.

Asking Amy to help him bake a cake to celebrate their victory on the mountain took her by surprise, not expecting Sonic to have the consideration or patience to think about and prepare that kind of gift just so their friends would enjoy it together. But what really shook her to the core was how many times he thanked her through the making, in his mind just one of those “thank you” was for the cake, the rest of them were for everything else.

Tails knows Sonic is acting strange.

it wasn’t just the sudden consideration on his words and actions, but also the eagerness to just spend time with them, an insane amount of time in which he paid attention to everyone and everything, he looked to the sea as if it was more of a new racetrack than an obstacle to his speed, he turned his sight to the sky as if he’d forgotten it was blue, and gazed to the palm trees as if he’d never seen one before. But most of it all, between his friends and the rest of the world, Sonic was looking at him.

It wasn’t the normal look he’d give him everyday, being the only one Sonic hadn’t been alone with since the mountain battle was weird enough, they would usually race and joke together after every battle, but not this time; Sonic was actively keeping him at arms length while never getting his eyes off of him, It didn’t matter who was Sonic talking to or what was he doing, if Tails was around, he was looking at him.

Every time he was smiling he would look back to see if he was smiling too, when one of his friends tried to approach him Sonic would instantly get in their way without any more reason than to talk to them, if there was a sudden movement or loud noise Sonic would turn to him as if to expect him to be gone, the calmness in his body being noticeable every time he found him.

It felt wrong, it felt distant, it felt as if he was a problem. He hasn’t felt like this in years.

Hours and hours later when their friends finally got too tired of watching Sonic’s odd behavior they all went their own way for the night, with Rouge just disappearing in the dark, Knuckles claiming he had places to be, and Amy saying the day had drained her and she needed sleep, Sonic and Tails were finally alone.

The walk to Tails’ lab was quick, but quiet. The silence prevailed all the way before they entered the house and closed the door, then it wasn’t quiet anymore.

With the way Sonic practically launched himself over Tails knocking the air out of him as he hugged the kit tightly, both falling to the floor as Sonic held him against his chest with one hand while the other one placed itself securing the fox’s head just below Sonic’s chin. Tails was quiet, way too shocked with the sudden affection after a whole day of being so close while feeling so far away. But Sonic’s sobs and whimpers weren’t quiet at all.

They were loud and broken, not forming any comprehensible words as hiccups broke in every time it seemed like he was actually trying to say something, as if he held back from crying for hours, It felt guilty, sorrowful, and desperate.

Tails found himself breaking his silence and asking repeatedly “what’s wrong?!” as he reciprocated the hug just for Sonic to tighten his arms around him, breaking into fully crying this time, with a sea of tears falling from the speedster’s eyes to the genius’ head, not letting him go even for a second, not loosening his grip after what felt like hours of holding his little brother, who held him back just as tightly.

Even if the tears stopped, their embrace didn’t, with the morning warmth closer than midnight’s coldness the blue hedgehog found himself surrounding the sleepy fox as he fought sleep’s calling to stay with his big brother.

“I love you” was muttered to the boy’s ears as he was claimed by the land of dreams, in which he could fly all day with the shining star he called his brother.

Tails wasn’t sure if that whisper was part of his dream. Sonic knew it wasn’t

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shotoh · 11 months

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❝ SO... ASS, T!TS, OR THIGHS? ❞ feat. nagi seishiro

— what’s his preference?

cw + tw. smut, 18+, minors dni, fem!reader, aged-up!characters, extensive amounts of foreplay, titplay, nipple sucking, nagi is a spoiled boy but we love him

notes. i think about this cutie patootie often and how he must be so nice to cuddle with... then i remember he’s huge and i just want him to ruin me <3

if you were to ask him this question straight up, he’d likely say something along the lines of, “eh… i like all of you.” which is pretty typical, but not inherently wrong.

in nagi’s case, he believes that if he can lay his head on it, then that’s more than enough for him.

your ass? a cushion for when he’s lazily slumped over your bed, phone in hand as you’re busy cramming your assignments and writing essays, propped up on your elbows in front of your laptop.

your thighs? his well-deserved reprieve after a long day at practice. he loves arriving home and finding you on the couch, patting your lap and inviting him to alleviate stress. as your fingers tousle through his white fluffy locks, a sleepy yawn escapes his lips, cheek pressed against your soft pillowy thighs as he waits for his dreams to take him.

your tits, however, make him rethink his entire outlook on life. i mean, how could he ever forget the sensation of being squished between your soft mounds as you’re going through your usual ministrations—absentmindedly massaging the nape of his neck and playing with tufts of his messy hair, making him hum in content. he doesn’t even think before using them as his personal stress balls, always subconsciously running a hand to cup a breast through your shirt no matter what he’s doing while laid against you.

whether intending to arouse you or not, this always leads to a breathy whimper escaping in the air, gray eyes looking up to see your lips slightly parted and gaze half-lidded. to nagi’s benefit, your tits are also extra sensitive, especially in his big ol’ hands which cover your chest perfectly no matter the size. they make you shiver as his thumbs press your nipples through the fabric, quickly pebbling at his touch. seeing them harden and poke through the sheer material of your top makes the striker’s mouth water.

“just a taste…” is what he tells you as he lifts your shirt above your chest, but nagi’s greedy. he never takes just what he needs, only caring about wanting more. he spends a good hour simply running his tongue around the stiff peaks, alternating breasts by laving at the valley between them before returning the same attention to the other one. his hands like to knead the tender flesh, even clamp them in his hold and push them together for easier access for his tongue to flick the aroused tips of your nipples.

“your tits are so perfect, angel, i wanna suffocate in them…”

it’s constantly a struggle to sit still when he’s adamantly fondling you. you shudder every time he flattens the wet muscle over your areola before wrapping his lips around the bud. your body clings to his, gripping his shoulders and occasionally pulling on the roots of his hair when he suckles on them like a baby. except unlike a baby, you feel the whole weight of him on top of you, heavy and desiring to sink you deeper in the sheets. the hard mast in his sweats ruts against your thigh.

with the drawn out foreplay, you’re nearly on the end of your rope. you need him to plunge his thick cock in your gooey insides already. you’re surely wet enough for him to slide right in—he’s made sure of that from his languid ministrations.

“sei, please, fuck me already…” you drawl prettily, hiking your knee to coax the hard throb in his pants. he bucks his hips on top of you, groaning low and hoarse, and teetering on the tightrope of self-control.

nagi, whether he realizes it or not, is cruel as he is greedy. he savors your reactions, enamored by the glassy look on your soft features that crinkle every time his mouth meets your beautiful skin. he’s practically on cloud nine, and you must be following him since you’re on the verge of falling apart, and he hasn’t even touched the aching, slick spot sticking to your panties yet.

“c’mon, beautiful, just a lil longer,” he coos, his words all wispy that you’re starting to grow lightheaded. he blows on the shiny trail of his spit along the sensitive expanse of your skin, feeling you squirm under him. lazily resting his cheek on your tits, innocent silver eyes find your teary ones.

“i still need to mark you all up for me, angel. stay still and i’ll make sure you feel so good later when you’re sitting on my cock, okay?” his lips tenderly press the swell of your breasts one last time before branding those dreamy promises into your skin.

#nagi x reader #nagi smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #nagi seishiro smut #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x you #nagi x y/n #blue lock imagines #blue lock headcanons #nagi seishirou smut

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thehusbandoden · 9 months

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You Flinch During an Argument -Todoroki Shoto

Sooo I decided to change this into drabbles instead of headcannons and a drabble bc I'm a lot more comfortable writing in this format, sorry if this bothers anyone <33

Oh and this is a lot more fluffy bc I'm so soft for Sho <3

I'll make Bakugou's a lot more angsty tomorrow >:))

Angst to fluff/comfort | 1,057 words

Warnings!: Mention of arguing, flinching, fear of hurting/scaring your s/o, mention of abuse (Shoto's childhood), and spending money in copious amounts (is that a warning??). Pls let me know if I miss any <33

The argument was getting nowhere, you were exhausted, angry, and hurt. You also bet that Sho felt the same.

Sighing, you stand up and walk towards where Shoto was pacing around.

"Listen Sho, let's just go to bed, we can talk about this in the morning."

"Fine then, you go to be-" Shoto froze as he saw you flinch away from him, he wasn't going to.. hurt you. He would never hurt you.

"Did.. did you think I was going to hurt you?" Shoto asked, inwardly panicking as he rushed to your side, hands hovering over your arms, shoulders, and hands, too scared of hurting or scaring you to touch you.

"No baby no. It was some kinda reaction from my body, probably because the tension was high and we're heroes." You coo, grabbing Shoto's hands comfortingly.

"A-are you sure?" Shoto asked, body shaking as he moved his hands up and down your arms, trying to comfort you as best as he could.

"Positive my dear, lets just get to bed, yeah? We can talk about our.. disagreement in the morning." You smile, causing Shoto to nod as he followed you to your shared bedroom, hovering behind you as you go through your night time routine.

"Baby.. I promise I'm not scared of you." You whisper, turning around to hug Shoto as he hovered over your shoulder, heart broken.

"I- I know.. it just reminded me of mom.. and him.."

"Oh baby, no. That is completely different."

Hugging Shoto tighter, your heart partially broke as Shoto clung to you, burying his face in your neck, seeking any kind of comfort he could.

"T-this was a one time freak accident.. right?" Shoto asked, a few tears staining your shoulder as he let you comfort him, needing some kind of stability for him to be sane.

"Yes, yes this will only happen this one time. I was not scared of you, my body moved on its own, I hold zero fear towards you, my love."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Now, let's get to bed and cuddle, yeah?"

Shoto simply nodded, shuffling his feet in a way where he could move yet stay attached to you, and he completely climbed on top of you, burying his face into your chest as you played with his hair, kissing his forehead sweetly.

~~~

The next morning he was attached to you until you had to go to work, and even then he was very reluctant to let you go, asking for kiss after kiss as you attempted to leave.

You came home to a completely cleaned house, your favorite meal, and your favorite at home activity set up.

And the next day, after he came home from work he brought you flowers, your favorite treat, take out, a movie, and a book that's been rotting in your 'tbr' list on Amazon.

It stayed that way for at least a week and a half, Shoto doing everything he could to show you how much he truly loved you.

~~~

"Baby I'm home." Shoto calls, shutting the door with his foot as he moved to set todays findings on your kitchen island.

"Hey, you're home early!" You smile, quickly making your way to kiss Sho's lips before hugging him, smiling at the comforting warmth and smell.

"Yeah, I missed you too much and there wasn't much going on. If there's any thing they need my help with they'll simply call me in."

Pecking his chest as acknowledgment, you turn to the island, blushing in embarrassment at the multiple bags on the smooth surface.

"Sho, how many times do I need to tell you that you don't need to keep buying me things?" You sigh, smiling as the hero pecked the back of your ear to help you cool off.

"And how many times do I need to tell you that I know I don't 'need' to, but I can, and want to spoil my queen."

"Sho you're too good for this world." You huff, blushing at Shoto's bold honesty.

"I belive that is you, my love."

"Okay okay- what did you get this time?" You sigh, peering at the bags curiously.

"You have to wait for this one," Sho mused, picking out a small black bag from the bunch, maneuvering it so you wouldn't see the brand name.

"Ah c'mon Sh-"

"and this one is for dinner-" Sho continued, shushing you with a quick peck to the lips, setting the grocery bag aside.

" and the rest is for you to enjoy at your leisure." Shoto smiled, causing you to blush.

Smiling, you look through the remaining four bags, smile widening at the sentimental gifts Shoto had gotten you.

One bag was full of books and movies you were dying to read/watch, and another one was full of bags of sweets you enjoyed from the gas station near your house -which means he most likely grabbed them on a whim, barely putting a thought into spoiling you as he remembered all of your favorites and which one you liked the most.

The other two were full of some of your favorite hobbies, and things you were meaning to get. Needed a new pair of earphones for long hours of patrol? Sho got the new model, making sure to get your favorite color. Oh- did you want a pair of fuzzy socks for the upcoming winter? Shoto got you just that, spending extra money to make them just right for you. The list went on and on, causing you to both feel giddy and annoyed.

"Shoto, you can't just spoil me. You need to be spoiled too, and all of your money is going into this isn't it?" Giving Sho a look to stop him from interrupting, you continued, "but, I really do appreciate this. You're too sweet for this world, Sho."

Shoto just smiled at you, eyes holding a certain spark that made you giddy.

And that alone stopped you from telling him to stop.

Because he truly enjoyed spoiling you, and you won't be that one to dampen that light, you'll be the one to continue to let it grow.

Plus you started spoiling him too- and now it's basically part of your routine

Series' masterlist | Shoto's masterlist | Main masterlist | Navigation

Tips <3

Reblogs help spread and support my work, and therefore help me out a ton, but any support is appreciated <33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

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kaiijo · 11 months

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CODA — JING YUAN

pairing: jing yuan x gn! reader content: spouse! reader, suggestive content

if someone were to ask you what your favorite time of day is, you would unequivocally answer that it’s nighttime. it’s a time to shed the events of the daytime and the promise of a new day tomorrow. and, given yours and jing yuan’s positions as diplomatic head of the xianzhou alliance and general of the luofu cloud knights, it’s when you get to spend time with your beloved husband.

you massage the rest of your moisturizer into your skin as you enter your shared bedroom, jing yuan already underneath the blankets, sitting up against the headboard. he lowers the book he has in hand, smiling warmly at you. you lean against the doorframe, drinking him in. even after years of being together, you still can’t quite get over how handsome he is (his tendency to sleep shirtless and showcase his well-sculpted body doesn’t hurt either).

“are you going to join me, dearest, or will you stand there all night?”

“i’m tempted to, if this is my view,” you reply with a grin.

he chuckles, “silver tongue.”

“you’re one to talk.” you push yourself off the frame and make your way over, sliding into bed beside jing yuan. immediately, his arm is around you and pulling you in close. he reaches over and shuts off the bedside lamp. dim moonlight floods your bedroom, casting a soft glow and you settle into your husband, head resting against his chest and arm wrapped around his torso. you snuggle into the warmth you’ve created.

he plants a loving kiss on the crown of your head. “how was your day?”

“exhausting,” you sigh. “i spent all day negotiating allocation of alchemy commission resources for the yuque and huaiyan as well as meeting with representatives from novara to discuss how the xianzhou alliance will assist with the recent uprising of denizens of the abundance on the planet.”

jing yuan hums and asks, “will cloud knights be dispatched?”

“i would prefer not to, both for diplomatic reasons and my own selfish ones.” you peek up at jing yuan and he smiles, leaning down again to kiss your forehead. “what about you? how was the meeting with the other arbiter-generals?”

“same as usual,” he replies. “a fair amount of bickering but nothing unresolvable.” he shifts a little so that he can lean closer, your noses brushing together. “i missed you today.”

“you miss me every day,” you murmur. you ghost your fingers along his skin and your husband shivers.

“i missed you especially today,” jing yuan says, voice deepening. you look into his eyes, half-lidded and dark and you known exactly what he has in mind. before you can act, he beats you to the punch, ever the perfect warrior, and he captures your mouth in a searing kiss. you return it with an equal amount of heat.

jing yuan’s grasps at your hips, rolling both of you so you lay on top of him. you pout when he pulls away, only to whine a moment later as he trails teasing, featherlight kisses to your jaw and neck. you return his teasing in kind, sitting up and trailing you hands appreciatively across his shoulders, down his chest, along his abs, tracing the multitude of scars he’s garnered from centuries of battle. you delight in the way goosebumps prickle along his skin as you continue downwards.

jing yuan’s gaze meets yours, eyes glinting like pools of hot, molten gold. “are you sure you want this tonight, dearest? i won’t be acting very gentlemanly tonight.”

you smirk at him, ducking down so your mouth hovers just above his ear. you purr, “when have you ever been gentlemanly, general?”

as he yanks you downward into another passionate kiss, you think distantly that yes, indeed, nighttime is your favorite time of day.

#jing yuan x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai: star rail x reader

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luvhu9hes · 4 months

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It Was Only a Kiss | EE73 x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Content, Minors DNI, Underage Drinking, P in V, Thigh Riding, Cursing, use of pet names (baby, princess), not proofread, Slight Angst (If I missed anything please let me know)

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: So, this is my first time ever writing something like this, this is also my first time writing smut. Please let me know what you think of this, but I'm also sensitive so please be nice abt it, thank you! All love - Chaela <3

"Come on y/n/n please, it's been so long since we've gone out together" Lydia pleads as I try to hide under my comforter. Normally I would love to go out and party with her, but ever since she started dating our friend Mark I've turned into a major third wheel. Don't get me wrong, I love the two of them and how happy they make each other, but sometimes I'd like to be able to enjoy myself without having to watch them suck each other's faces. After a tremendous amount of prodding Lydia finally coerced me out of bed picking out my outfit for the party.

"Lyds, are you sure I should wear this? Isn't it a bit, much?" I ask as I rake my eyes over the outfit she chose. The outfit consisted of a black miniskirt, a red lacy top which showed off the tops of my breasts really nicely, and some matching black boots.

"It's perfect y/n/n you look hot, nobody will be able to keep their eyes off of you babes."

I roll my eyes at her comment and go to finish my hair and makeup before grabbing my keys and head out the door following behind Lydia. The Soph house, home of the University of Michigan hockey team was only a 10 minute drive from our dorms and we arrived in no time. We made our way inside, music blasting throughout the house practically making the walls shake. The house was hot and stuffy as the sea of bodies was full of young adults grinding and dancing along to the music the air smelling of smoke and alcohol. Almost immediately upon arriving the two girls are greeted by Mark.

"Hey babe" he smiles leaning down to press a kiss to his girlfriend's lips, he then turns to the other girl greeting her as well.

"Hey y/n/n, we've missed you" he says hugging his friend.

"Hey Marky, I've missed you guys too, i've just been busy" I lied not wanting to admit i've been avoiding hanging out with the couple. Just as the three of you were about to head towards the kitchen to pour yourselves some drinks an arm makes itself comfortable around my shoulder causing me to look up and see none other than Ethan Edwards. You weren't exactly sure how the rivalry had started, but for as long as you could remember you and Ethan had hated each other. Growing up next door to each other you and Ethan had been forced to spend time around each other, due to always going to the same school and our parents being good friends. When I had gotten accepted to University of Michigan I had expected to finally escape the brunette, but of course to my disappointment he had been accepted right along with me. At the sight of the boy I tried to contain the look of disgust in my face as I pushed his arm off from around my shoulders. Upon Ethan's arrival Lydia and Mark took it upon themselves to make their way to their other friends across the house.

"Wow y/n/n, it's good to see you too." Ethan teased as he moved to put his hands in his pockets.

"What do you want Ethan?" I asked getting irritated by his presence.

"Pump the hate breaks princess, I was just trying to be civil" Ethan states as he holds his hands up in defense.

I scoffed at the idea, Ethan Edwards? Civil? I think hell would freeze over before that happened. I tried to push past him and move towards to kitchen to get alcohol in my system, but of course he had to follow right behind me. I grabbed myself a beer from the fridge cracking it open and letting the golden liquid glide down my throat the sensation already seeming to ease my annoyance. That was until a set of arms were working to trap me against the fridge.

"Ethan, what are you doing" I asked in a questioning tone.

"Just admiring" the boy admits.

"Where the hell is this coming from Ethan? For as long as I can remember you've hated me" I asked him.

"Who says I hate you?" he questions.

"I don't know Ethan, maybe the way you've been an asshole since the day I moved in next door" I state in a matter of fact tone.

"I wasn't trying to be an asshole y/n" the use of my full name shocks me as he continues. "I just wanted to get to know the pretty girl next door, but the only way I could think to get your attention was to tease you." He finally admits.

"W- what? You're telling me all of these years you've been an ass because you had a crush on me?" I ask hesitantly.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I was doing" Ethan starts,

"and if you'd let me make it up to you I'd show you exactly how I feel for you princess"

"Oh yeah?" I asked, my voice just barely above a whisper

"Yeah" he breathes, his hands on my hips as he leans his face down towards mine his lips ghosting over mine as he says, "You have no idea how long i've wanted this."

"Just kiss me already Ethan" I mumble starting to get impatient. Ethan doesn't take a second longer to crash his lips onto mine. I never would have thought that I would be in the kitchen of the Soph house making out with Ethan Edwards, but here I was with one hand tangled in his hair at the nape of his neck, while the other still held onto the long forgotten can of beer I had grabbed minutes earlier. I tugged at the ends of his hair causing him to groan into my mouth allowing me to slip my tongue in and explore his mouth with my own. After what feels like hours we finally pull away to catch our breath, but within seconds I'm pulling Ethan back down to my lips kissing him with a bruising force. Soon Ethan begins trailing his lips down to my jawline and my neck causing me to tilt my head back in pleasure allowing him more access as he nips and starts to leave marks all over. I know that at this point my panties are dripping from the immense amount of pleasure i'm receiving in this moment.

"Eth.." I moan out as his hands begin to explore my body. He hums in response not fully acknowledging me. "Ethan" I repeat this time in a more firm tone.

At the sound Ethan lifts his head from my neck to look at me. "What's wrong princess? Do you not want this? I can stop it's no problem I just-" he begins to ramble worried he's scared me off.

"No Ethan, I want this, just not- not in the kitchen Ethan" I say reassuring him. Ethan gapes at me as though he had completely forgotten that we were still in the middle of the kitchen. "R-right, well then let's get out of here" Ethan says as he grabs my hand guiding me through the crowd of people and upstairs towards his room. The second the door is locked behind us my back is pushed up against the door as Ethan smashes his lips against mine with the same intensity as minutes ago in the kitchen. My hands go to tangle themselves within his hair once more has his go around yo cup the backs of my thighs. “Jump princess” he mumbles into my lips and I comply immediately eliciting a breathy “good girl” from him causing me to moan into the kiss and him to smirk. Ethan backs us up until he's sitting on the foot of his bed with me straddling his lap. As though my hips had a mind of their own they slowly began to rut against Ethan's causing him to pull away and groan. “What have you done to me Princess?”

“Less talking, please” I breathe out as I continue to grind my hips against his. Ethan lets out a chuckle as he goes to take off my top, looking at me for approval to which I nod. He slowly removes the article of clothing and gapes as my bare breasts are revealed. Starting to feel a bit self conscious I go to move my arms in front of my chest to which Ethan immediately grabs my wrist saying “Don't hide from me now Princess, you're gorgeous.” His hands move from my wrists, down to knead my breasts letting his thumbs flick over my hardening nipples.

“Oh God” I moan out at the sensation and before I can speak again Ethan is enclosing my nipple in his mouth licking and sucking at the bud eliciting a string of curses to come pouring out of my mouth. I tug at the strands of Ethan's hair pulling him away from my chest and back to my lips, my hands moving down his chest to palm his strained cock through his jeans. “Oh Princess” he groans. The two of us are quick to start stripping each other down leaving ourselves bare in front of each other. To say Ethan was attractive was an understatement, he quite literally looked like he had been sculpted by Greek Gods with his chiseled jaw, toned abs, and his incredibly muscular thighs which you couldn't help but staring at. Ethan caught your gaze and smirked as he began to speak, “I see you looking at my thighs Princess” you flush at the realization you've been caught, but he only continues when he says “does that turn you on Princess, the thought of getting off just by pleasuring yourself on my thigh. You like that idea don't you?” he pulls me in by my wrist choosing to run his fingers along my slick folds “Look at you Princess you're so wet f’’me already, c’mon baby come ride my thigh like a good girl” he begins to slur lust evident in his voice. Not being able to decline his request I move to sit with my cunt directly on his thigh as he puts his hands on my hips and begins to set the pace for me flexing his thigh every once in a while the muscles in his thigh touching my clit sending the most delicious sense of pleasure coursing through my body. I very quickly could feel the the very familiar knot tying in my stomach as Ethan quickened the pace enjoying the view of me getting off just at the feel of his thigh. Reaching between our bodies I snaked my hand down to my clit pressing tight circles only increasing the pleasure I was feeling at the moment. “I- I’m close” I'm barely able to muster out before my orgasm overtakes me and I clench my eyes shut leaning forward to bite Ethan's shoulder at the sensation.

Ethan mumbles sweet nothings in my ear as he moves his face to the crook of my neck leaving sloppy kisses in his wake. As I come down from my post orgasmic sensation I reach my hand down to begin stroking Ethan's cock which is angry due to its lack of attention. This is a sign to Ethan that I am ready for more. Quickly Ethan moves us around so that I am laying with my back against his mattress with him hovering over me leaning down to leave a kiss on my lips, this one was different from the others, not full of lust or need, it was a kiss full of passion and emotion. Ethan pulls away and looks me in the eyes with a look clearly asking for permission to which I quickly nod needing to feel him inside me. “Uh uh baby, I need words Princess” he says.

“Ethan please, need your cock. Need you t’ fill me up so good” I babble. That's all he needs to hear before teasing my folds with the tip of his cock and then pushing into my entrance without warning causing us both to moan out at the feeling.

“Fuck baby you're so tight f’me, milking my cock so good baby” Ethan groans into my ear.

“So full Eth. You fill me up so good” I practically cried.

Sure I had had hookups throughout the last few years, nobody had ever been able to please me like Ethan already had, and nobody even came close in size compared to Ethan. After adjusting to the stretch, I encouraged Ethan to move and he did just as I had asked. At first it was painful due to the new feeling but soon that pain was replaced with pleasure. Once the pain was gone I urged Ethan to to move faster to which he gladly obliged setting a harsh pace eliciting almost pornographic sounds from my mouth. All that could be heard throughout the room was the sounds of skin slapping and moans coming from both me and Ethan. The knot in my stomach began tightening again as I was starting to get closer and closer to my orgasm for the second time of the night. I could tell Ethan was getting close as well as I could feel his thrusts getting sloppier and his cock twitching inside of me at each thrust.

“‘m so close Ethan, so close” I breathe out.

“Me too Princess, I want you to cum with me baby, okay? Can you do that f’me baby?”

“Yes, please Ethan ‘m gonna cum”

Ethan reached between our bodies going to draw tight circles on my clit, pulling my orgasm out of me, my pussy fluttering around his cock milks his orgasm out of him as he lets himself lay on top of me. We lay there for a couple of minutes coming down from our highs basking in the post orgasmic feeling. Once we’ve caught our breath Ethan gets up pulling on his boxers leaning down to press a kiss to my lips before he heads to the bathroom. He returns with a washcloth in his hand going to clean the mess made between my thighs trying to be gentle as to not cause overstimulation. Ethan then goes to grab me a pair of his boxers and a shirt for me to sleep in. After I get dressed Ethan opens his arms for me to come join him under the covers to which I happily obliged laying with Ethan as we slowly drifted off to sleep, deciding to leave the conversation about where this will lead for tomorrow.

fin.

a/n: I have no clue how I feel about this or if I even like this but yk 💁🏻‍♀️

#ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards x y/n #umich hockey x reader #ethan edwards #ethan edwards imagine #ethan edwards smut #mark estapa #luke hughes #nhl hockey #nhl smut #nhl social media au

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bloggingboutburgers · 2 months

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Hey, allo anon with an ace partner here. I wanted to say thank you so much for the well wishes! I figured I would send this in here again, so anyone else who is curious about what this experience looks like from the other side can see it.

My girlfriend came out to me a little over 2 years into our relationship. At the time it surprised me a lot, because she'd never given me any signs that she wasn't enjoying what we were doing. After we talked more I understood that she wasn't repulsed by sex and she didn't hate it, but she didn't really love it either and wanted to stop doing it for a while (so a sex-neutral ace).

Honestly, at the time, I did get anxious about it. Not just because of social conventions, but because I had viewed sex as an important bonding part of our relationship. I don't do well with change, and I was super worried about how a lack of sex would change our dynamic. I also had some insecurities about my own body, and my girlfriend admitting that she didn't see me as sexy was upsetting. But after speaking to my therapist, I realized that I was projecting my own issues on to the relationship. So I spoke with her again, and she reassured me that she wanted to be with me, and that she was confiding these feelings because she trusted me. She likes how I look, she just doesn't have the same sexual impulses I do.

So, I realized this was pretty much like cuddling. I love physical touch a lot, and I want to cuddle for a much longer time than she does. I like it when someone lies on top of me. She doesn't want me on top of her chest during cuddling. She still cuddles with me, but she tells me when she's satisfied, and we stop.

A few months went by, and I noticed that she wasn't spending any less time with me; she was actually spending more. We would still call every evening when we didn't meet up in person, we would still joke around, and she still told me she loved me and did everything she could to show it to me. We also began trying out new stuff together, and playing games and watching stuff more often. We also still had plenty of physical intimacy with things like cuddling and kissing, which made me really happy.

I realized that I didn't feel like anything was missing from the relationship. I just needed her to show and tell me she loved me in the ways she normally did. Sure, I am still attracted to her that way, but it wasn't something that would make or break the relationship.

It's been years since she came out, and at this point, I never expect anything sexual. It happens rarely, and I always check in with her multiple times before and during. We stop at any point she tells me. There are quite a few hard boundaries about what is and isn't off limits, and I always keep them in mind. I would rather satisfy myself forever than make her uncomfortable, and she knows it.

It's been over 5 years and we are still going strong. I am hoping to ask her to marry me in the next few years, because honestly, I can't picture wanting anyone else by my side. She is kind, funny, beautiful, intelligent, and treats me well. I could never ask for anything more from a partner.

Thank you SO MUCH for sharing. I myself definitely lack knowledge of what it feels like from an allo's perspective, so this was very educational for me, but beyond that... You have no idea how much hope this gives me.

From you being aware of how much sex meant to you in the context of your relationship and still being fine without it, to just... Heck, even your therapist for not blaming her for the situation. Therapy is still very much, in my country at least, an area where the absence or lower levels of sexual attraction will be hastily labelled as something wrong physically or mentally, so... Yeah, the amount of relief I felt reading that, you have no idea. And I can only imagine how much your partner appreciates it too.

Honestly I teared up a bit reading this - I sincerely wish you guys all the best and I hope you have a bright future ahead! (Also fun fact, seems you guys have been together as long as my partner and I have, it's nice to be able to relate to that too hehe^^)

#anon #asexual #ace #allosexual #thank you so much for sharing

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ayaboba · 1 year

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bubbly haze !

summary: their favorite bath products

chars: albedo, alhaitham, ayaka, ayato, childe, cyno, diluc, eula, heizou, itto, kaeya, kaveh, kazuha, mona, nilou, raiden, tighnari, wanderer, xiao, yae miko, yelan, zhongli.

cws: modern au, hardly proofread, maybe grammatical errors? gn! reader.

scented bath bombs - childe, ayaka, heizou, kaveh,

they own an impressive collection of bath bombs of every scent, color and shape, all meticulously organised categorically by aesthetics and purpose. you’d think they’d treasure them like precious lost gems, locked away in some fancy glass cabinets, but you’d change your mind in a split second if you saw them in the bath.

it’ll start off with one, singular bath bomb. it dissolves and fizzes, seeping and mixing into the water around them. but we could up that a bit more. there is a whole box just in the cupboard…

soon the bathroom smells like one of those heavily perfumed candle shops.

personalized shampoo and conditioner - albedo, tighnari, eula, zhongli

their hair game is top tier!! it’s serious business to them, and hair products from local stores just don’t meet their sky-high standards. their the ones that order from those custom-made sites, and claim that their deluxe, personalized shampoo and conditioner is 100% worth half their income. whether it actually works or not, it doesn’t really matter because their hair is a thousand times more healthy and shiny than yours :(

fragrant soaps + body washes - diluc, alhaitham, ayato, yelan, wanderer, yae miko.

these people always smell good. and its not from heavy layers of perfume, cologne or body mists, their charming aroma stems from their immaculate taste in bath products.

though it may not look like it, these people are very knowledgeable when it comes to the best complimentary scents and combos. very often they’d mix and experiment around different types of soaps and consistencies, spending a concerning amount of time in the bathroom perfecting their concoctions. despite this, they do have a favourite signature scent. it might be something simple like lavender, or something unusual like sandalwood and aquarian rose. ??

exfoliating sugar scrubs - kaeya, kazuha, cyno, raiden ei, nilou,

the same type of people who enjoys consistent self-care. they know that sugar scrubs aren’t particularly essential in baths, potentially harmful if overused, but it sure heightens and makes the experience even more delightful and comforting. the have only a few of different fragrances, but they treasure and savour them like its their last. after all, baths for them are like an escape from responsibilities and expectations, a gateway to temporary tranquility.

it doesn’t last that long, but at least they have their sugar scrubs.

water - xiao, itto, mona.

it’s basic, but it does it’s job…to some extent. sure, sometimes it doesn’t mask some odor, but its nothing a few spritz of cheap body mist can’t hide! (minus xiao for this part) they don’t understand the point of expensive products. aren’t baths are just obligations to make sure your clean? you could be spending your money and time doing things much more important and useful.

…but they’d never say no to a paid appointment at the bathhouse!!

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multifan2022 · 10 months

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Used to be yours #2

I just want to thank anyone who has stuck around to read this.. I posted PART 1 on January 18th!! So with my deepest apologize i give you part 2 164 days later .. I hope you all love it.

That night after a few hours that honestly felt too short spent with Mav and Henley, you had been trying to get ready to go to the club Phoenix was insisting on going to. Key word was try, because you didn't make it further than your panties before your husband was palming your breasts and pushing them back down. Did you understand? Yes. Did you put up any type of argument? State how you would be late? No.. Absolutely not. Because if there was anything you knew, it was Bradley was just as thorough in the bedroom as he was in the sky. And it had been months since you had been in front of each other, and there was really no better way to celebrate your alone time.

You're already thinking about how Nix is going to make comments about the beard burn on your neck and chest as Bradley continues to kiss his way down your stomach. His teeth sinking into the extra meat of your thigh as he looked up at you. When his tongue ran up your slit you both moaned together. Bradley was the only man you had ever met that would admit that he absolutely loved eating his woman out. Not that you had been with anyone besides him and Hangman. But you had overheard conversations he had with guys on random deployments while on facetime or calls. Or listened to him recount a story here or there. He was 100% down to tell people his second favorite place in the world was between your thighs.

It was everything from the way you tasted and sounded, to the way his fingers dug into the flesh of your legs as he held them apart. Honestly it was the same for you, the feeling of said fingers digging into you was great. The way his beautiful hair felt fisted in your hand, wonderful. How his moans as you gasp, clench or pull his hair, would vibrate through you, perfect. You swore there was no one luckier on the planet than you. So now as he went to town feasting on you like a man dying of thirst, you scolded yourself for speaking.

“The beard is new.. Not really Navy regulation.”

Bradley chuckled and pulled his mouth away just a little, replacing his tongue with his finger as he looked up at you. He could see that you were questioning yourself as to why you said that. “Do you really wanna talk about Navy regulations right now Babe?” You shook your head, laughing lightly “Your right.” It caught both you and Bradley off guard when your hand wrapped into his hair and you all but shoved his face back into your pussy. The filthy moan he let out, the way his fingers dug into your thighs as you held his face where you needed him sent your confidence skyrocketing. Riding his face until you were ready to let go, before riding his cock too.

That's how you ended up at the club a good hour after Nix and what was, unfortunately, shaping up to be the others of the dagger squad. Natasha and her girlfriend Steph can't stop raving over how good the lace body con tank top and black jeans you decided to wear look on you. For now you had a silky black shirt over it, but the club was warm and you were already starting to get hot. Normally you would be gushing back about whatever they have on, or saying thank you an embarrassing amount of times. Because no amount of love from Rooster can make up for spending years being told you would never be good enough. Normally you also wouldn't be absolutely brain dead and drooling over your husband. Because honestly what gave this man the right to look so fucking hot?

His hair was still slightly wet from his shower, showing off exactly how curly it truly is as it hung just right. His beard really shouldn't have looked as good as you thought it did, and sure some would disagree but they are wrong. His shirt was unbuttoned just far enough to be obscenely hot, showing off his chest hair and two necklaces. Both plain chains but one was his fathers and one had been gifted to him by Henley. The offensive shirt was white, black and pink with gray designs in the white boxes. The shit litterally hung off him in a way that screams fuck me. He was completely oblivious to every woman that stared at him as he made his way back towards you from the bar.

He noticed the way your eyes tracked over him as Nat shook her head smiling and said something about being on the dance floor. In his hands he had two shots each, one hand held his favorite shots. He handed you one of the kamikaze shots and sat the other two down. Shooting those back you stuck your tongue out at him. You preferred sweeter drinks but never complained for real, it was all in fun. “I know, I know.. I got us these to wash those down with. They are vodka jolly rancher shots, got you a blue raspberry.” He said as he smiled at you, taking those shots back to before he grabbed your hand and followed Nat and Steph.

An hour later when Jake and Javy were walking in you didn't notice. “Love tonight” The David Guetta party remix was blaring and you were jumping and dancing with the girls. Bradley hadn't even noticed until they settled at the bar next to him. Javy clapped him on the back in greeting as the bartender started their tabs and took more drink orders. “I didn't think you would be here! Figured you would be too busy with your lady.” Jake said, turning to look at Rooster who clenched his jaw and nodded. “I took care of things before and will do so again later I'm sure.. Not like she's going anywhere, we bought a house on base so her and our daughter are staying.”

Again Jake and Javy shared a look, “Man you got a wife AND a daughter. How did none of us know?” Bradley shrugged apologetically at Javy as the bartender sat a beer and a frozen strawberry margarita in front of him. “It's gonna cause some tension.. So I kept it to myself, and wasn't expecting to stay, ya know.. But I better get this back to her so she can drink it while it's frozen..” Bradley was thankful to have an exit, he really didn't want to be away from you when you realized Jake was here. He didn't care that he left the two men confused and watching after him. “Why is it gonna cause problems?” Javy said almost not realizing it was out loud until Jake shrugged. But as Rooster made it back to his table, and the ladies made it back, it all clicked for Jake.

“What the fuck..” He said as he watched a familiar y/h/c woman slide up next to Rooster, sitting down in his lap with an ease that screamed comfort. He watched the way your head tilted down just a little to listen as Bradley whispered in your ear. He could see the way you tensed from across the club. The way you went to move your head but Bradleys big hands grabbed your chin and shook his head while smiling. The way you leaned in and pressed your lips to his before keeping your back to Jake and sipping on your drink. Javy looked between his best friend who was about to shatter the glass his old fashioned was in, and the couple in question. Before he could ask, Jake answered “Thats Y/n..”

Javys jaw almost hit the bartop, “Like Y/n, Y/N? Long lost love Y/n? The one who got away Y/n? Y/n..” Jake held his hand up quickly cutting off whatever long tangent Javy was about to go on. Nodding he watched as Roosters hand explored your body from your perch on his lap. He knew he shouldn't but he found his body walking towards the table you guys were sitting at. When he slid into the seat and put an arm behind Phoenix she scoffed and looked at Rooster with that look on her face that says she's shocked by his audacity.

Jake's eyes were on your face as you watched Bradley, who watched Jake. “So Rooster.. Gonna introduce us to your… Wife..” The word felt like it stuck in his throat as his eyes trailed down your neck and over what he could see of your body. You could feel his eyes on you, and honestly it made you want to hit him. Turning you leaned slightly over the table to shake Javys hand and introduce yourself. That's when the questions started, Javy knew who you were to Jake, now he wanted to know how that rolled over to Bradley. “Where did you guys meet? How long have you been together? How old is your daughter? When can I meet her, can I be Uncle Yote?”

Everyone chuckled slightly at his enthusiasm. As an only child to a single mother, he loved anytime his family expanded even a little. Your fingers twirled Bradleys hair a bit as you answered, you knew you were probably going to hurt someone's feelings. Unfortunately for that person, you didn't really care. “Bradley and I met at his tap out ceremony. I was there to see someone else, but instead met the love of my life.” Jake watched, a sick feeling in his stomach as Bradley smiled softly at you and kissed your jaw. “Our daughter, Henley is nine and sure? I kinda figure eventually MOST of you will be like an aunt or uncle to her. Tasha is already Auntie Nix so it wont be that big of a deal.” Jake did the math quickly, shaking his head as he took a sip of his drink before speaking. “Damn Bradshaw, Ive always joked about you staying on your perch, guess you jumped off pretty quick for this one..”

Your head snapped to the side to glare at him in a way that made him want to sink into his seat. “What the hell does that mean, Hangman.” The way you sneered at his call sign made his skin crawl, he didn't figure you would be happy to see him, but he was starting to get the feeling that maybe you hated him. His brain racked as he tried to recall when the last time you spoke was. And when he did, he opened his mouth and proceeded to continue digging his hole deeper. “Sweets, listen.. Had I known Bradshaw was your baby daddy, I wouldn't have said what I said.. It was immature, I'm sorry.”

He missed the way Bradleys hand tightened around his beer at the pet name. His eyes only on yours, when you were younger all he had to ever do was apologize and bat his eyes at you and bam. Forgiven.

Now though, you looked like you could skin him and use him as a rug.

The chuckle that came from you was not filled with mirth, it was filled with disdain and hatred as you tried to calm yourself. Your hand in Bradley's hair, and his on your back were the only things keeping you grounded at the moment. When you looked back at Jake there was a coldness in your eyes that he had never seen before. Your tone was frosty as you spoke, “Bradley is her father, but unfortunately biologically she shares DNA with someone else.. And that person.. Well let's just say he isn't worth wasting my breath over.. He left me out to dry.. He is dead to me.”

The others at the table were shocked, well besides Nat who was thrilled that you were finally getting to say your piece. She had spent many nights, mostly tipsy ones, encouraging this with the hopes that she would get to witness it one day. When the music changed and you stood she stood as well, pulling her girl with you both as you announced you were going to go dance. Bradley was smirking down at the table as he moved your empty glass to the side and pushed the condensation around on the table. Javy felt like he was missing huge pieces of information, Jake did too.

Jake was doing everything he could to not demand more answers. He wanted to know everything that went wrong, every side step he should've taken. Every argument he should have walked away from, even the ones he should've pushed harder on. He wanted to ask which part of his behavior had pushed you so far away. Jake Hangman Seresin wanted to know everything he needed to not do again if there was ever a possible chance you would be with him again.

Meanwhile Bradley was loving how torn down the blond looked. Not that he was happy someone else was hurting, just happy that he knew you were getting what you needed. This would help make you happier. This was part of what you needed to heal from Jake and be able to completely move on. But even with all that happiness stirring around in him, old habits die hard. With that in mind he couldn't help but make small jabs at the man. So he leaned back and spread his arms and legs while allowing his head to fall to his shoulder.

Both Javy and Jake could tell he wanted to say something, but it seemed like he got lost for just a moment. And he did, the moment his eyes found you smiling and dancing with the girls, it was like everything slowed down. Everything in his universe was attached to you in some way. He would never be able to dig deep enough into himself to cut you out completely. The beautiful, thick woman dancing in front of him was his world. The moon, the stars and every galaxy out there. But he forced himself to look away and at one of the few people he actually had real, true negative feelings for.

“I guess I should thank you Hangman.” He said with a side smirk and slight edge to his voice. He could see the anger and confusion boiling in Jakes eyes as he wondered where he would go with this. Chuckling lightly Bradley continues “Well, had you not been such a selfish prick and ditched her, after begging her to come, at our academy graduation I wouldve never met her… Hell she would probably be married to you. So thank you, for leaving her hangin.” Bradley chuckled once again while tipping his beer bottle towards Jake.

Javy was shocked, he had never heard this part. Just that you and Jake had fallen out of touch. So to find out in reality, Jake had ditched you and then spent years complaining about how he loved and missed you? He turns to start asking his own questions but stops when he notices his best friends face. Jake has turned red from the neck up, his jaw is clenched to tightly Javy wouldnt be surprised if he cracked a tooth. The bottle in Jakes hand is held so tightly its liable to crack.

Its taking every ounce of self control that Jake has to not throw himself over the table. He already wanted to rip Bradleys arms off and beat him with them. But now it was worse. Jake wanted to not only beat Bradley until he couldnt move anymore, but he wanted to show Bradley. Show Bradley that maybe.. Just maybe a piece of you had always been waiting for him to come back. That maybe Jake had a fighting chance in a race he didnt even know was happening.

Just as he went to answer, a redhead came up and practically threw herself in Jakes lap. “Hey there.. If I wear that hat, can I ride you cowboy?” Jake had never been so turned off in his life. It wasnt the woman in his lap, shes gorgeous and any night before this Jake wouldve spewed off something charming and taken her in the bathroom or maybe in his truck. But he was physically having a hard time not shoving her off his lap. It felt wrong to do in front of you in a way that didnt make sense to him.

He had no problem parading girls in front of you when he was younger. Girls back home all threw high school, he always took someone different to each dance, both proms. It was never you. He had both you and Jade when he was in the Academy. Jade thought you were just the pathetic girl in town he took pity on. That you had this silly little high school crush on him, and Jake only entertained it because he pitied you. While none of that came from his mouth, Jake never disagreed. It was an easy way to get away with having his cake and eating it too.

Especially because you didn't even know Jade existed.

“SO.. Anyways.. I'm gonna go dance with my wife.. Have a nice night guys.” Bradley practically ran from the table, he was half hard just from listening to you tell Hangman how you felt. There was never any doubt in his head that you would leave him for Jake, but the reassurance was alway nice. The other part was that you never really got worked up like that, so to see you angry was hot. Bradley was suddenly happy that Nix had wanted to come to this club. This club that had ladies dancing on private stages in the corners. This club that had expensive, but semi-private rooms in the back for… Activities.

Earned it by The Weeknd came on just as he reached you, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you back into him. It was natural to wrap one arm back and around his neck as the other rested on his arm. “God, that was so hot baby.” His voice was deep and raspy as he ground against you, letting you feel just how hot he thought it was. You just wanted to focus on being back with him, Jake needed to go back to the furthest recesses of your mind where he belonged. So you turned around, wrapping both arms around his neck as the two of you danced with each other. He kept one hand on your hip or lower back at all times, ensuring that you couldn't pull away from him.

He wanted to feel you as close as he could, until that wasn't enough and he brought his mouth down on yours. It was a filthy and debauched kind of kiss, the kind that others saw and thought “Wow save it for the bedroom” but here, in this kinda sketchy club nobody cared. Well besides the blond standing across the room, it didn't matter that Jake had that girl pressed up against him talking. He didn't even catch her begging him to get a room in the back. If he was honest he couldnt even remember if he asked for her name. He wanted to march over to you and tell you that he had loved you for as long as he could remember. That he was stupid and young and let you walk away but thought you would always find your way back to each other.

He wanted to tell you that he didn't care that you had a child, that he would love your daughter like his own. Jake wanted to tell you how he visited your fathers grave every time he went home, paid someone to make sure it stayed clean. That he looked for you, asked people if they knew where you were every single time he went home. He looked everywhere for you.. But now as he watched you bite your bottom lip and start pulling your husband back towards a hallway that he hadn't noticed, he knew it was too late. His mind processed that you were so far gone from him, that he probably wouldn't even be able to salvage a friendship.

But his heart was unable to hear, “Where's that hallway go?” He asked cutting off the woman in front of him. He didn't even know what she had been talking about, part of him felt bad, but the more prevalent part couldn't care. The redhead turned and giggled, saying she would tell him after they had one more drink. Even though it only took ten minutes for that drink to happen, it was ten minutes too long when she finally answered him. Semi-private rooms she said.. Rooms people used to have sex in a kind of private but still open way. His mind was exploding, he couldn't imagine his best friend, the one who blushed when someone asked to kiss her, having sex where others could see her. But as the redhead whose name he couldn't be bothered to figure out now pulled him back towards the hall, he came to the realization that he probably doesn't know you anymore.

He didn't pay any attention to the hostess charging his card. Didn't pay any attention to the rules she was reading out loud. He didn't care about the girl that was giggling and hanging on him as they started walking. All he could focus on was looking threw the sheer colored curtains as they passed rooms with couples or groups in varying positions. It wasn't until they walked into a room and the woman shoved him down onto the couch that he found you.

In the ‘room’ directly across from his.

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nexusnyx · 1 year

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the sargeant's tattoos | b.b.

SUMMARY: It's a lazy morning in bed, and your boyfriend has new tattoos, which means inspection. Bucky lets you do your thing, as always.

🏷️ Established relationship, fluff, body worship. WC: [2.2k].| 📑 This work is part of a series called Coming In Hot, but it can be read as a stand alone. This is specially for the nonnie that missed it. Mwah.

"Can you get back up here?" You giggle. "I wanna see the new one. You said it's healed. Lemme see, Sargeant."

Bucky's got a thing for your legs, he tells you all the time, but the amount of time he's willing to spend sometimes kneeling on the floor just because your bed is basically on the floor is ridiculous sometimes.

He looks up at you, rubbing his scruff on your calf and smiling with the same indecency in his eyes he had when he first walked in and saw you sprawling across the bed with a book in your hands and only your newest sundress��pure want, mixed with devious thoughts and even more devilish intent.

"I like it down here," Bucky answers. He puts on a cute pout, and you grab him by his hair. The soft and now longer strands are perfect for pulling, and you smile with your jaw hanging open at the fact that this bastard hisses with a smile on his face at the strength you use. "Ow. So you get to trace my tattoos for as long as you'd like—ow, woman, god, you're hot when you're needy little this," Bucky's laughter tastes somehow even better when he presses it against your mouth. "But. If I spend half an hour sucking bruises on your legs, I can't? I don't like that. Doesn't sound that fair to me."

You're successful in pulling him back in bed with you.

"I just miss you," you whine. You kiss him back when Bucky dives for several small pecks, holding his head there, as close to you as possible. "And your tattoos are up there with my favorite art pieces. You know that. You also gave me full permission to ogle them for as much as you want, so..." you shrug your shoulders.

Bucky scrunches his nose, then lets all of his weight drop on you.

Your body lets out an 'oof' sound when he does that, but you wrap your legs around his waist even though you can barely breathe.

In a mocking tone of military order, Bucky says. "Tell me I can go back to my duty of honor after you're done with your starin'."

"No!" Bucky's heavy, and if he makes you laugh this is over before it starts. "You said we're gonna go watch a movie, Buck."

"Don't whine at me, darlin'. Tell me I can do it or else I'll just crush you to death," he insists, wiggling his body for good measure.

Muscle.

Your boyfriend left the military many years ago — thank everything that's real — and his only exercises involve a lot more aerobics than you'd like to think of at any given time, but he's also a mechanic.

One who loves what he does, who's always doing the most himself. You've seen him lift things in that car shop you were sure were a part of the decor, and it shows.

"If you stay on top of me like that for one more minute I'm gonna lick your face, Barnes."

The threat almost sounds real, but Bucky knows how to recognize weakness in your voice when he hears it better than anyone.

He leans closer to your face. "Tell me," he whispers, inches away from your lips.

"Fine. You can go back to whatever you want between my legs," you exhale heavily. Oh, what a cruel hand you'd been dealt with. "Now off. On the bed, face down." You wiggle your eyebrows.

A deal's a deal, so Bucky gets off.

Smiling because he's won what he wants, too, but all that matters right now is finally getting the time to look.

When he arrived earlier at your place, you'd been so lost in the ocean of sadness, longing, and desperate need to see him, be near him, kiss him, taste him feel him rub on him gasp his name have him writhing and begging for you, begging for him right back, Bucky BuckyBucky—there was time for nothing else.

Barely a hello.

His working clothes were still somewhere close to your front door, with grease on them and a button missing, most likely.

You hated residency.

Hated being away from him, the boys — your boys — and hated even more that the limited time you had was often wasted doing stupid, grown-up shit.

You missed and loved Bucky Barnes each more every day, ever since the day he welcomed you into his shop and fixed your Baby, and being away from him felt like torture at times.

Specially when he got a new tattoo.

Bucky laid with his stomach on the mattress, wiggled his hips a few times to get comfortable, and placed a pillow under his head.

"Go ahead," he muttered, resting his cheek on your silk pillowcase and casting his blue eyes on you.

You climbed on top of him this time, sitting on his ass.

"Pain level?" You ask.

The first of many questions, as he well knows.

"Mmm. A solid five. The parts closest to the ribs were the worst," he answers.

Your fingertips start tracing the lines of the tattoo that so far you had only seen through pictures.

There was not an ounce of a lie in your previous statements to Bucky:

All his tattoos were art.

This new one was no exception.

"Time?" You ask.

"Seven hours with a few breaks here and there," Bucky answers.

You whistle. "That's impressive, Sargeant."

He chuckles. "It's not that painful," he states.

"So you say," you tease him.

Bucky's still daydreaming about the day you'll allow him to pay for a tattoo on you, and the day is yet to arrive.

The art he puts on him makes him look like art as well.

It was the first thing you said back when at the beginning of the relationship you had a chance to truly look at his tattoos. To lay on his chest and analyze them from up-close without feeling like you were invading the privacy of what they meant.

Each tattoo Bucky had held personal meaning to him — unlike his best friend, Steve, who had a bunch of random (and beautiful) shit permanently drawn on many parts of his body — and it took no genius to figure out Bucky would rather chomp his own feet off than talk about it with anyone.

You knew from stories of the boys that Bucky had the habit of giving people the bluntest answers he'd given on the times they all traveled to the beach and the rare occasions when someone saw him shirtless and asked about his very sick tattoos.

How could you blame those people?

On his right side, drawn across his ribs, there was a raven taking flight. A very realistic one about the size of an adult man's hands spread wide open.

"That's my dad's favorite bird. He liked the poem by Poe—very on the nose, I know. But I like it, too. It's funny this is the first one you ask about 'cause... this was the first one I got."

Unlike with others, Bucky had no problem talking to you.

He told you about the raven, about Saturn on his chest, and the story his mother told him when he was a kid about how she had a guardian angel who picked up rocks and asteroids straight from the planet of Saturn only on the special occasion of her birthday, and how his mother started to give him her special "Saturn stone" to him whenever he felt anxious.

"She said it wouldn't give me superpowers, but that it had superpowers and I had to trust it would just be whatever I need to face off the challenge I was anxious about, and... it worked." That explanation had been so beautiful you told him it made you want to get Saturn's rings tattooed on you, and that had made Bucky laugh. "It's a nice magic thing to believe in. You know... back in the desert, sometimes... I would just pick up any stone, close my eyes, and pretend it was a Saturn ring. Carry it around in my pocket like a lucky charm."

Before the newest addition, Saturn had been your favorite of all his pieces.

Bucky also had tattooed on his left chest a hyper-real android thing that made it look like he was part robot on the inside.

"This one was just after I learned how to accept this," he'd told you, wiggling his prosthetic arm. "Learning how to feel okay with the new me and all that yadda."

Then, there was the constellation.

Wrapping around the left-wing on the back of his left shoulder there was the constellation of Cassiopeia.

"It was... this was Kim's favorite." The sound of Bucky's lost battalion member might be closed, but the scar of losing a loved one was forever. "Stars and stuff like that was the first thing that got him talking back then. You know how he was intimidated by Stevie and I..." You recalled seeing the fondness and the obvious infatuation still visible in Bucky's eyes when talking about Kim, and all it made was bring you this wave of sadness of knowing you'd never be able to meet someone who made Bucky feel so happy. "It was the first thing we really talked about. And we could talk about it for hours."

After you two started dating, Bucky got a new one a few months after on the back of his right shoulder in the same conceptual style as this newest piece.

It was a quote from Wuthering Heights.

Be with me always. Take any form—Drive me mad!

The quote stood between an anatomically correct heart and a book.

Seconds before showing you, Bucky had stood on your bedroom door playing with his fingers and hair, trying to figure out what to say. Then, he had just closed his mouth, took off his shirt and come to sit next to you in bed in complete silence.

When you read the quote, all you could see was your Instagram post.

He had sat and waited for you to find your own words, and it took you a while.

"It's gorgeous."

Bucky had looked at you, smiling so softly it hurt. "An ode to love."

"Is it?"

"It is. It turns out... that there is such thing as a love you'd want forever."

That day was one of your favorites. Ever.

Today, though, you stand there sitting on your favorite seat with your fingers tracing the new conceptual art on his back.

There were a lot of things, but the main connection was time, and in the other lines, you recognized little things that each traced back to one of the boys from his group. To Steve, Sam, Peter, Gabe, Morita—even Kim was there if you paid close attention to details.

It was gorgeous.

Then, you noticed that the dismantled machine on one of the edges of the tattoo was a 1959 Cadillac.

Your Cadillac.

"Bucky..."

"Ah. She found it," he says with a laugh, talking to himself. With a look up, you see Bucky twisting his neck a little just to look at you. "You like it?"

Like it?

To be included in his vision of... what? Family? Love? All the things that time brought to him and mattered?

Your answer is to close the distance between your bodies and press your lips on his. Bucky sighs softly, kissing you back and trying to hold onto his smile.

"I love you so much," you whisper to him. I'm not gonna cry. I'm not gonna cry. To fulfill that, you focus on kissing him some more. "I love how the art on you makes you even sexier. It should be fucking illegal, to be honest, but it's the best eye candy ever so I do not care."

"I'm eye candy?" Bucky asks, laughing again.

You nod. "You know you are." And... there it is. The blush on his cheeks as he shakes his head, trying to play coy or argue with you when he knows it's useless. Caressing his face, you sing the praises your lips are used to. "Beautiful, pretty, gorgeous Sargeant," they're as familiar as the taste of his mouth by now, and how much he seems to drink them in is all that you ever want to see at the end of the day.

Bucky blinks heavily, smiling so hard his cheeks must be hurting.

Then, he opens those hypnotizing blue orbs and leans in to sensually touch his lips on yours.

"And she wonders why I love to spend time between these legs," he hums in feign disapproval.

There's a sharp slap on the side of your thigh, and you yelp.

Bucky's smile turns devious.

"You've done your ogling. Time to stick to your word, darlin'."

He's right.

This time, it's you who sighs before lying down. "Yes, Sarge."

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