#friends to implied lovers

[heedeungism]

synopsis: riki knows you better than anyone else. includes: bridgerton au (barely), a little women reference, confessions of love, pre-marital kissing (the scandal!), gross old men, arranged marriage notes: @hoes4hoseok i hope you enjoy my timothee chalamification of riki, this one's for you girl🩷

there’s a thin line between love and friendship. your mother says she was friends with your father before she ever learned to love him, never in the way the poets rave, but in a way that made her life easier. in her words, “a love match is as rare as a diamond, dear. you shouldn’t hold out hope of one should it ruin your debut.”

it’s a shame, you think, that you can love someone so deeply and yet there’s no guarantee they’ll share the sentiment, nor a chance to see if what you feel is dwindling infatuation or true unyielding devotion. it’s improper to explore your options, greedy to want more than expected, and childish to yearn for love. yet you do.

your debut season approaches fast, and with it, the heavy promise of your hand to baron mortimer weighs your heart down like an anchor keeping you from daydreaming of the things you had read and researched about love.  he’s wealthy, titled, and twice your age. he would give your family a more comfortable life, save you from the shame of becoming a spinster if you do not find another suitable match your first season, and seems to be respectable enough despite his intent to marry you, a soon-to-be debutante he set his eyes upon years ago. it’s unnerving, but your mother speaks of him without disdain, so you keep your anxieties about his character at bay.

unfortunately, your dearest friend plagues your mind just so. riki’s return from oxford approaches with the same swiftness as your debut. you dread the idea of no longer having the liberty to write to him or paint him when he’s a willing muse, as it would be improper to do so while promised to another. for that reason you have yet to write to him since your last letter a week ago, where in it you bid him the gentlest farewell you could to help ease the ache in your heart.

you aren’t sure if he even received it, as he has not written back, but you suppose it’s for the best.

at least you believe that until he’s before you with unkempt hair and a haunted look in his tormented gaze. 

“tell me it is not true.” he says, chest rising and falling as if he had run from oxford to mayfair on foot, though perhaps he had been traveling by carriage since he received the letter clutched between his fingers. “tell me you are not marrying that man.”

you are unsure of how to respond, your lips parting hut no words leaving them. you turn toward your ladies maid, who blinks wildly as she receives the message, placing your hairpin down and hastening out of the room past the viscount’s son. the door clicks and yet his gaze remains unyielding, you finally speak, “you are back early, mr nishimura.”

riki had always been exceedingly easy to read, only to you, he used to pout. this moment is no different, and you can see how hard it is for him to wrap his head around his title leaving your lips instead of his name, but he recovers enough to repeat himself, “tell me.”

you place a hand on your stomach, squeezed by a corset that you suspect is why you can’t seem to catch your breath, “i will not lie to you.”

his brows furrow, his teeth peeking from his plump lips as they part in disgust and frustration, “he is old.”

“yes, i am aware of lord mortimer’s age.” you say with a similar frustration on your tongue that is heavily withheld by your propriety, “my mother saw it pertinent i educate myself before our marriage.”

“you cannot marry him.” riki says, and the frustration in your blood blooms into something more, something worse.

“that is not your decision to make.” you state, mindlessly flattening invisible wrinkles in your dress as he takes a step closer, only for you to fortify the distance with one of your own in the same direction, “not any more than it is mine.”

“you…” he loses his words as his hand clenches and releases at his side like he longs to reach for you, “you do not want this.”

“what i want does not matter to my parents anymore than it should to you,” you state, attempting to tuck the loose strand of hair that your ladies maid hadn’t the time to fit into your updo behind your ear, only for it to fall right back into place against your cheekbone, “lord mortimer is wealthy, he will give me a comfortable life.”

“do you not deserve a happy one?” riki asks, and you feel the cracks in your chest widen. instinctively, you fight the tremble of your chin and the tug in your brow as tears attempt to fit through the open crevice of your act.

“no, don’t—“ you shake your eyes, turning away from him as your arms drop to your sides, “don’t do that. i have accepted my future, i do not need you planting doubts in my mind.”

“what use would planting them do when i can see they’ve already taken root far before i arrived here?” you overlook the step he takes, nor how large his stride is. he only takes one yet it makes all the difference, as he feels infinitely closer than before. just as you feared he would.

“stop it.” you say, masked inside a heavy exhale, yet a plea all the same. “you should be visiting with your sisters, i’m sure they missed you dearly—“

“don’t marry him.” he says, and you finally look at him.

“what?” you ask despite knowing exactly what he said, you want to hear him say it again to make sure it wasn’t in your head.

he shakes his head, taking another step closer, “don’t marry him.”

“you…” he doesn't have to explain what he means, your childish hopes of love that you’d hidden so deep in your conscience do so for him. your heart sings as his eyes flick between your own and then down the bridge of your nose and lower, but your mind refuses to bend as your heart does. you shake your head, shuffling back to salvage whatever distance you can, “no.”

“yes.” he responds in kind, dropping the letter and closing the distance between the two of you to grab your hands. his next words are paired with the act of him flattening your palm against his chest, keeping it there while he grasps the other in his much larger hand, “you can’t marry him.”

“you are being cruel.” you try to pull away, but his grip is firm and you know that if you meet his gaze you won’t be able to fight it anymore.

there’s a sickening silence as his thumb draws shapes on the back of your hand, you can feel his heartbeat. it’s strong, and its pace only feeds your own heart wanton promises of devotion you had only ever been told were too rare to expect in your lifetime, “tell me you do not want me.”

the suddenness of his demand lowers your guard for just long enough for your heart to find the upper ground and force your eyes into his sights, he repeats himself, “tell me you do not want me and i will leave you to marry lord mortimer.” his words are punctuated by the hand not holding yours to his heart grasping the side of your jaw, his thumb moving against your warmed cheek, “tell me and i will never speak to you again, just as you requested in your letter. you will never have to see me and i won’t—“

“i don’t want that.” the words leave your lips without warning, but it’s too late to take them back by the time they reach his ears. you shake your head, “i don’t—i don’t want to marry, i want to paint and read and—“

he listens as your supposed acceptance crumbles beneath his gaze, chest heaving under your palm. “—i want to do all of those things with you, i do. the baron has my parents under his wretched thumb and i cannot bear it, i cannot—“ a sharp inhale rakes your body, a mix of a sob and a desperate but fruitless attempt to regain composure, “i don’t want you to go away, i want you to stay here with me and—“

his lips meet yours with a firmness that sets your heart aflame, and when he pulls away just enough to look at you your heart finally lands the finishing blow in its fight against your mind. your hand lingers on his chest as the one he uses to keep it there moves to mirror its counterpart on the other side of your jaw.

you barely glance down at his lips before they’re on yours again, a welcome experience that you hope you can experience over and over until you’re utterly familiar, but now you're not sure how to reciprocate. the novels you’ve read did little to educate you on the experience, much less prepare you for it to occur with the boy you’d found yourself longing for through the years. 

the gasp you let out when his hand moves from your jaw to your waist to tug you closer is silenced by his lips attaching themselves to yours like he’d spent a lifetime wishing to taste you.

he pulls away, yet he doesn't seem keen on keeping the distance, his nose brushing yours as he promises, “i will speak to your parents—”

the mention of them has your guts turning painfully enough to rip you away from him, nausea hitting you like a bullet through your throat, “i should not have done that.”

“i kissed you—“ his statement does little to quell your sickness, and the wavering grate in your voice as you interrupt him is telling of that. “that changes nothing.” your fingers move to your hair, the pin keeping it in place falling to the floor as you tug, “i am ruined. forget marrying the baron, i cannot marry anyone.”

“was i not clear?” he asks, and when you look at him with frustrated reluctance he continues, “should i gut myself? place my heart in your hands to have you understand how you haunt me?”

“we cannot marry.” you say, bottom lip trembling, “i will not be a consequence of your actions. it is not your duty to marry me when i am the only one ruined.”

riki’s jaw shifts as if your words brought him only fury, “i do not care for duty, i care for you.” 

“you are young, riki. you are not expected to marry for at least—“

“i want to.” he states firmly, “you said you wanted me to stay, so i am staying. i will dance with you at balls. i will send flowers and call on you every morning. i will promenade alongside you for as long as it takes. i…”

he moves towards you, thumbs brushing away the tears under your eyes as his forehead meets yours, “i am yours, do with me what you will.”

©heedeungism : do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission.

[lanaswritingbook]

Not like others

Dave Lizewski x fem!Reader

Warning: implied sex, fluff

First time writing in a while hope you like! (The summary is kinda ass sorry. Trying to get back into writing 😭)

Summary- After you and Dave finished having sex you thought you had to leave right after due to never having aftercare. But he made sure you got what you needed.

After a while I finally slid off of Dave breathless at the activities we’ve just done. This wasn’t my first time doing the deed but it was my second.

And the first time was terrible it was honestly a mistake. The guy left in the same ten minutes after we finished and ghosted me ever since.

So that’s why I was scared for this to be over. Dave and I weren’t established as a couple but we knew we weren’t friends and only talked to each other romantically. I think it’s just fear for both of us to take that next big step.

But would Dave be that guy to just tell me I should go and never speak to me again?

We laid in his bed both staring up at the ceiling both trying to catch our breath in silence.

Slightly looking over his eyes were closed with his hand over his chiseled stomach. God what workouts did he do?

Thinking he was a sleep or trying to ignore this embarrassing moment I stood up quietly putting my clothes on.

The bed creaked lightly making him open his eyes. “Hey where you going” he asked sitting up deciding to put his boxers back on.

“Oh I was just gonna head out…” a tiny smile appeared on my face putting my hoodie over my head.

“Oh… why?” his face had saddened making me feel worse then I already did about having to leave.

“I just thought you had wanted me to leave…” we stared at each other for a couple seconds.

“I don’t want you to leave, this is the time where we talk and you know…” he wanted me to finish his sentence but I had no clue where it was going

“We cuddle! It’s like a rule after sex we both have to make sure we’re okay. I mean this only like my third time doing it but that’s how we end it.” I looked at him confused.

“I’ve never done that before… sorry” I sat back on his bed crisscrossed as he took my hand in his.

“You’ve never had aftercare? God i’m sorry Yn.” he pulled me into a tight hug.

It was nice feeling him against me and not just in a sexual way. It was reassuring.

When he pulled away he motioned me to lay my head on his chest as he laid back.

“Can I ask who never gave you aftercare?” he whispered slightly smoothing his hand down my hair not wanting to mess up my curls.

“Uh I’ve only done it once before with a football player from school. Worse mistake of my life.” I laugh trying to lift the mood.

“He had came over and I thought we were gonna watch a movie then he just got right to it and left. What a way to lose your virginity am I right?” a tear fell down my cheek.

When he noticed quiet sniffles he looked down wiping my cheek.

“Hey don’t cry, I won’t ever do that to you never” he promised leaning down to kiss my lips.

“We’re gonna do this again?” my eyes widen “I mean if you want… but I was hoping we could do it as boyfriend and girlfriend” he shly whispered.

“You wanna be my boyfriend?” I tried keeping a smile off my face

“Of course”.

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

Cherry Ink (Ace x GN!Reader)

“This is your fault.” 

“Is not!” The redhead’s protests only feed the fuel of your boiling rage. “I told you you didn’t have to follow me. You got yourself into this!”

“I was trying to make sure you didn’t get your sorry ass in trouble again!” 

“What’re you, my mom?” You desperately wanted to punch that grin clean off his face. “Are you going to make sure I eat my vegetables, too?” 

You decide to ignore him. There was no sense in getting into a fistfight. Right now, your main focus is to figure out where you are. You look up at the green road sign hanging above you. It reads, “Scuttle Str.” Well, that gives you a starting point at least. You then turn to look at the bus schedule posted to the wall of the shaded canopy under the bench you stood in front of. 

“There won’t be another bus for two hours.” 

“That’s not so bad.” Ace leans against the pole holding up the street sign. “We just have to hang out here for a while. When the next bus comes, we’ll ask the driver to take us back to the…the, um…” 

You sigh, trying your best to keep yourself calm. “Sebastian Square. By that time though, everyone will have already gone back to the resort. We’ll just have to go back there,” you narrow your gaze in his direction, “and hope that we don’t have a professor or two waiting to tear our heads off for disappearing.” 

“Oh please,” Ace scoffs with a roll of his eye. “If they’re so worried, they’ll have the police find us. You worry too much.” 

“Yeah, I do.” You cross your arms over your chest, continuing to glare at him. “I worry about us getting in serious trouble for running off. Wait, no, actually, you ran off! I was the one to go after you and try to drag you back to where we were supposed to be!” 

“Hey, I didn’t know the bus would take us here! I thought it was the one that stopped by that huge mall we went to Wednesday.”

You throw your arms in the air in frustration. “Ace Trappola, everyone! Freshman at Night Raven College and he can’t even bother to read!” 

“Since when was the last time you read a bus’ time table?!” 

“When I want to make sure I’m getting on the right bus, dumbass!” 

This is getting you nowhere. Despite the shade, the heat is sweltering and you’re sweating bullets. That little fan in the bus you and Ace disembarked a few minutes ago hadn’t helped at all. On top of that, you’re starving. Professor Crewel said at the beginning of the day that you would all stop to eat at a restaurant centered in Sebastian Square a little past twelve. You pull out your shitty little phone Crowley gave you last winter and, sure enough, it’s past twelve. That small breakfast you had to scarf down because your alarm didn’t go off that morning wasn’t going to hold you forever. 

“Let’s just get out of this heat.” You tuck your phone back into the pocket of your shorts and look around the area. “There’s bound to be somewhere we can sit and hang out till the bus comes.” 

Ace points to a building up a small hill. “What about there? It looks like some lil mom-and-pop place. I’m starving!”

He took the words right out of your mouth. You nod and, without another word, begin the short trek up to the thatched roof shack. 

You thanked whatever higher being there might be that you had some madol on you. It wasn’t much - just enough to buy you a cold drink and a bag of chips. You stepped to the side to allow Ace to place his order; you sat at a small table in the corner of the eatery and waited for him to join you. Your stomach growled as you opened the bag of chips, raising the bag to your open mouth and tilting it up and pouring them in. You chewed the few salty crisps that fell in, sighing through your nose as you swallowed as your stomach began to calm its hungry tirade. Hopefully the chips would last you until you could get some real food. Though a part of you felt guilty for thinking it, you were glad Grim wasn’t here with you - all your money would’ve been spent on him. 

A few minutes later, Ace plops down in the seat across from you. His meal consists of a burger, potato wedges, and a milkshake. You try to avoid ogling the bounty of food, directing your gaze down at your small, near empty bag of chips. You pick your drink up off the table and take a sip, the liquid gloriously wetting your mouth and tongue, staving off your parchness. As you place your drink back on the wooden table, Ace speaks up after swallowing a mouthful of burger. “That’s all you’re gonna eat?”

That pang of embarrassment for your situation wells up in your heart, like it has so many times before. “I’m not that hungry,” you say, avoiding his gaze as you take a potato chip and eat it. From the corner of your eye, you see Ace raise an inquisitive brow. 

“Could have fooled me for the way your stomach was growling earlier.” So, he had heard that. You thought it’d been quiet enough for only you to hear - apparently not. You mentally cursed your gut’s cries for sustenance as you bit into another chip, this time a bit more forcefully. 

“Well, I’m eating, so it shouldn’t do that anymore.” 

Your voice was a bit more snappy than you intended. “Geez, alright!” Ace takes a sip from his milkshake, right after mumbling a quiet, “Don’t have to bite my head off.” 

Soon, your bag of chips is empty. While the cold drink eases your body temperature and quenches your thirst, it does little to satisfy your lingering hunger. You take out your phone to check the time: it’s just a few minutes past one. A little under an hour to go before the bus comes back - another hour without food. Your stomach begins to ache; it’s a subtle pain, but you know it’ll gradually grow as the minutes pass. You desperately try to ignore it, distracting yourself from the smell of scrumptious food by looking out the window and glancing around the eatery. It truly is a nice place, just out of the way of the hustle and bustle of the city, located about a ten minute walk from the coastline. 

Just as you’re fancying a quick swim to further distance yourself from your hunger, someone pokes your arm. “Hey.” You tilt your head to look over at Ace. He’s got a teasing smirk on his punchable face. “Your stomach growling again.” 

You hadn’t even noticed, too lost in your thoughts to hear it. You fold your arms over your stomach and glare out the window. “Probably just indigestion,” you suggest dismissively. 

You feel Ace stare at you for a moment, perhaps coming up with a way to tease you further. Instead, he asks, “You’re still hungry, aren’t you?” 

Despite how much of a shithead he can be, there’s no sense in lying to him. “Yeah,” you reply. “I’m just going to hold out until we get back to the resort.” 

“Um, hello?” Ace gestures about the space with his hand. “We’re at a restaurant? Or whatever you call this? They make food.”

“No shit.” 

“So, go get something else to eat.”

“I’m fine, Ace.” 

“Your stomach says otherwise.” 

“Well, it can shut the fuck up, can’t it?” 

Again, your tone came out sharper than you intended it to. This time, however, Ace didn’t make an offended comment about it. He is quiet, almost too quiet. Suddenly, he gets up from his seat and walks away. Maybe he has to go to the bathroom? That, or he doesn’t want to get kicked out by starting an argument with you. That’d be surprisingly smart of him, you think. 

You glance over at his unfinished burger and wedges. Would he notice if you snuck in a bite of the meat, stole a fry? No - no, that’s wrong and you know it. You’re not Grim - you’re better than that. Wrapping your arms tighter around your stomach you turn back towards the window, once again trying to ignore the way your stomach continues to growl, mocking you. You almost jump out of your seat when something slams down on your side of the table. You’re startled to find a plate of food waiting for you. 

“Eat.” That sounds more like a demand than a suggestion. Coming from Ace, it’s rather surprising. He sits across from you once more, no smile in sight as he stares at you, expression serious. You look down at the plate of food - a dish you often order from places like this. The growling of your gut intensifies as the glorious scent fills your nostrils. You look up at Ace and eye him suspiciously. 

“I’m not falling for it,” you say, accusingly. 

“Falling for what?” 

“This!” You point at the plate of food. “You’re going to make me do some favor or something in return - like do your homework!” 

Ace scoffs. “Who am I, Azul? I’m not gonna do something like that!” You narrow your eyes at him. “Okay, okay, I’ve done it before! But that’s not what this is about.” 

He nudges the plate closer to you with his finger. “I’m not going to stuff my face and let you go hungry. I’m not even that low.” You raise an eyebrow at him. Ace briefly raises his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, maybe I’ve been an ass like that before. This is different, though.” 

Ace leans back in his seat. “Eat, okay?” The beginning of a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Or am I going to have to come over there and force you?” 

No way in hell were you going to let that happen. He actually is serious, then. Well…if he insists. You put aside your suspicions - for now - and begin to eat. Immediately, you feel relief. In no time you’re wolfing down your food; it’s only when Ace chuckles at how you stuff your face that you slow down. “It’s good,” you say, trying not to be embarrassed. 

“Mhm,” Ace hums in agreement as he chomps down on his burger. “Real good stuff,” he concurs through a mouthful of meat, bun, veggies, and condiments. 

“Ew!” You cringe in disgust as you catch a glimpse of the mushy food in his mouth. “Don’t talk with your mouthful. It’s gross!” 

Ace laughs as he swallows the bite. “You’re such a baby! You sound like Crewel.” He lightly kicks your ankle under the table. “Are you gonna call me a ‘bad dog,’ too?” 

“No,” you grin at him wickedly, “but I could tell him how you’ve been acting here.” 

You glimpsed fear in those cherry-colored eyes. “Don’t you dare! My ass is already grass when we get back!” He jabs a potato wedge in your direction. “And I bought you that food.” 

“See?” You smirked. “I told you you’d use this against me.” The boy frowns at the realization, almost appearing disappointed in himself. An odd look on him, but likely nothing too deep. You smile and say, “Tell you what: as thanks for the food, I won’t tell anyone about your bad table manners.” 

Ace’s smile is almost mischievous as he winks at you. “Deal.” He nods his head to the side, towards the napkin holder at the edge of the table near the window. “You want me to take one of those napkins and write up a makeshift contrast, too?” 

You laugh as you shake your head, right before taking another big bite of your food. Maybe sneaking away from the rest of your class - whether or not intentional - wasn’t so bad after all. 

***

Your asses were, indeed, grass when you finally made it back to Sebastian Square. You arrived just in time to catch the rest of your schoolmates and teachers about to leave the area for the resort. Professor Crewel was the one to greet you both, as Vargas and Trein had gone out to look for you. To say the man chewed you out would be an understatement - and in front of all your peers, too. Of course, when it was discovered that you were only trying to keep Ace from running off, your punishment was a lot lighter. All you would have to do is write a one page apology for not notifying a staff member instead, among other details. Ace, on the other hand, barely got out of detention while still on the trip; although, he would surely face that consequence the moment he stepped back on campus. 

You step out of your hotel room and into the hall. Once again, hunger pangs your gut, and you decide to satiate it with a midnight snack. As you walk, your hand feels the billfold within your pocket. You’re very grateful that, upon learning that you used the last of your funds to procure sustenance during your unplanned delinquency, Crewel replenished your empty pockets. He strictly stated that they were for necessities - however, he discreetly said that, should there be any wants you desire in the last several days of the trip, you may come see him. Many would call it special treatment, but at this rate you’re waiting for the man to serve you adoption papers. 

The glimpse of a smile ghosts over your lips as you take the elevator down to the lobby. After departing the lift, you walk across the room and enter a smaller one a short distance away from the front desk. What meets your gaze are three large vending machines - and one familiar redhead. “Ace?” 

The man startles at the sound of his name. Obviously, he didn’t expect anyone else to come down here, let alone find him. “Shh!” he hisses. “Shut up! You want Crewel or Trein or Vargas to hear?” 

“And cook your goose further?” You giggle. “Nah - I don’t think you can get anymore burnt.” You ignore the daggers he glares into the back of your head as you view the choices available behind the glass of the vending machines. Candy, chips, granola bars, bottled drinks - you insert your money into your chosen machine and make your selection. Ace does the same shortly after you’ve acquired your snack. As you suspected, it’s a candy bar, one made of dark chocolate and cherries. 

“Bad dog!” You almost scare Ace out of his skin. “You’ll rot your teeth with that!” 

“You-!” Ace looks like he’s going to punch your shoulder, but refrains. He tucks the bar of chocolate into his pocket before walking past you. He bumps into you as he does, forcing you to sway to the side. 

“Hey, watch it!” 

“Make me!” he calls back, mockingly sticking his tongue out at you before making a run for the elevators. You run after him, but by the time you get across the lobby, muttering a quick apology to the janitor you almost bumped into, Ace is already gone. You mumble under your breath how annoying he is as you hit a button between the elevators, indicating you want to go up. After a small bit of waiting, the one to your far left opens and you get on. You press the button for your floor and watch the large metal doors close, right before you feel yourself ascending upwards. 

As you wait to reach your floor, you lean against the wall and shove your hands into your pockets. Your forehead crinkles as you frown, confused as to why there’s some sort of paper in your right pocket. You take it out, wondering if it’s some form of receipt you forgot. Instead, in your hand is a folded piece of lined paper, like you would use at school. You unfold the paper once, twice, three times before its face is opened up towards you. Your eyes widen as you read the words on the page, written in red ink. 

Date #1 was nice. Date #2?

❑ Yes    ❑No

[kazusys]

𝐍𝐎 𝐆𝐀𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

kazuha’s insecure about the gap in his teeth. you reassure him. (based off of the glitch that made him have a… well, gap in his teeth.) ALSO based off of this little thing i wrote and a comment saying that this should be a fic. so, here ya go! :]

“i’m thinking about possibly getting braces soon.” kazuha said out of the blue one day, catching you off guard at his sincerity.

“braces— wait, what?” you replied, turning your head to face him, his eyes not meeting yours as he simply stares off into the sky. “what would you need braces for?”

“to fix my teeth, as they’re meant to.” he states matter-of-factly.

“well, no kidding. but what could possibly need fixing?”

“is it not obvious?” he looks downward, parting his lips slightly before pointing to the gap between his two front teeth. “it makes me look like a kid.”

“a cute kid.” you murmur. “but why now? you’ve had it since… well, as far as i can remember!”

“actually, it’s been on my mind for awhile. but… if you think it’s cute…” he drawls off at the end, a small smile starting to form as he continues. “…i guess… i just want nice teeth like yours. a bit of an unnatural topic to talk about, but it’s true.”

you sigh. “trust me, you do not want braces. they hurt and restrict what you can eat— plus, it’s just a little gap. nothing like my teeth before.” as you reach over to ruffle his hair, you giggle. “are you insecure about it? is that what’s going on?”

he laughs lightly in return, mostly out of embarrassment. “you caught me,” he catches your other hand in his, holding it as he smiles, teeth and all in view. “but not so much anymore.”

and when you take the moment and kiss him on the lips and run your tongue over the gap in his teeth? he thinks that maybe braces aren’t a necessity for him and that he should just accept it as it is.

[98chao]

truly i love all of you and i'm so grateful for all the support i get on my vanilla milkshake posts here because i've just seen the way people talk about vanilla milkshake and mysticao on twitter and its genuinely taken 50 years off my life. now i've been reminded as to why i should never join the crk fandom on twitter

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

Years have gone by. It's now 1971. You've peaked in your career. You've become well known. But what happens when an all too familiar face returns, now more drawn to you?

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Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: steamy ASFF???, angst, swearing, alcohol consumption, shlut shaming (fuck that old man), implied smut in the end (i didn't write smut yall im nervous)

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Chapter nine: You belong to me

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You and Joseph called consistently. Phone bills got higher, but both of you could care less. Both of you sent letters, pictures, and postcards like you promised.

Joseph often sent you pictures of him and George. He sent you postcards from Italy, Germany, and some cities in France.

You often send pictures of yourself, Callum, and photoshoots. You sent him postcards from Milan, New York, Copenhagen, and more. Mostly fashion capitals in the world.

Every letter you'd send each other would contain your days, food you tried, people you met, places you've been. But in the end of each one, there'd be the same sentence.

"I love you. See you soon."

It always said that.

Years pass, the calls get less consistent, the letters talking about your days now talk about your weeks, then they start talking about your months.

You talk about college now, parties you've been invited to, alcohol you tried.

Less and less postcards. Only three to five would come in a year now, the only thing written in them is the place they've been to.

Seven years have passed. It's 1971 now. You're 23 years old. The phone ringings have stopped. The letter boxes are empty.

Joseph was now merely a memory. Something you've locked inside you. He's beginning to collect dust.

You write in your notebook about your day. You sit on your matress, only an underwear on and some sheer shirt. Your hair is up in a messy clip, bangs blown on your forehead.

Safe to say you're famous. You've been in countless magazines, influencing famous celebrities. For example, Jane Birkin with your full bangs. You actually have her number. It's in the room... somewhere.

Life in Paris has been... alright, you could say. Sure, it smells like piss, and sure, it's filled with rude people, but you grew up here, so might as well accept it.

Callum's been a big help. He's a famous photographer and car enthusiast now. He's done almost all of your photoshoots. There were some rumours that developed about you two being an item, but you quickly shut that down.

A knock is heard on your flat's front door. Callum walks in, a paper bag in hand, and a lit cigarette between his lips.

"Pretty girl," a nickname he never seemed to want to let go, "your wine is here."

You get up from your place, strutting down some steps and kissing Callum's cheek in greeting. You head to the bag placed on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck yes. Thank you, Callum. You're an angel." I place them in a gift bag, saving them for a future event.

In three days' time, a gala was to happen. It would be filled top to bottom with riches, designer clothes and items, jewels, and anything else that screams luxury. And what you're most excited about is the fact that it's a masquerade.

You, for one, were invited to this gala. The people who were invited are sort of a VIP. Only close friends of the host would be there, and knowing the host, they were luxurious as well.

Your dress was ready. Your gift was ready. Everything was ready. Even your plus one, who is very obviously Callum, was ready. Everything would be perfect.

But you were nervous. Something deep inside your gut was telling you something would happen, and you couldn't tell whether it was a bad sign or a good one. You were hoping for the latter.

It crawled through your skin. You weren't one to get nervous, especially after all the exposure to the media in the past couple of years. So this wasn't exactly normal.

Your heart was exhilarated. Your mind was all over the place. What if you didn't look your best? This was a question you haven't asked yourself in a long while. You've been so self-assured, but what changed it now? That gut feeling sucked.

You take your mind off it. You'd rather talk about your plans for that evening.

The dress you, Callum, and your stylist picked was an archive of Audrey Hepburn's 1956 film Funny Face. It was fluffy around the bottom, the end cutting off in the middle of your calf. It was off shoulder, drop waist, coloured white with accents of pink and blue for the flowers imprinted.

Some things to add on were long white silk gloves, your mask that covered anything but your eyes, along with a pair of white kitten heels, pearl earrings, and hair pieces. It reminded you of when you were young. You, in high school with your puffy skirts, pearl jewellery, and kitten heels.

There was something bugging you. Something you're missing. It was a nostalgic memory. It's something you were trying to figure out, but before you could, Callum's arm wraps around your shoulders.

"You alright, pretty girl?" He asked, worry etched in his tone.

You simply smile at him. "Yup. All good."

××《☆》××

You were riding around Paris in your vespa, the wind blowing through your hair and messing it up. It was an hour before midnight, the air colder, and the streets lit up with lights.

You wanted some air. Something about what happened earlier made your mind jumble over what it could've been. You needed to stop it from running around. It would've kept you up all night.

Your coat was on, keeping you warm. You had borrowed it from Callum, using the excuse of the fact that it was bigger, meaning it would keep you from the cold. Which was true.

He barely even used it anyway. It didn't even smell like him. Callum smelt like new cars, cigarettes, and hair gel. This coat wasn't too far, but it wasn't that close. It smelt like cigarettes, yes, but also expensive cologne. Callum doesn't wear that type of cologne.

It got your mind running again. You roll your eyes to yourself. You thought this would help. You speed your Vespa up, making it around l'Arc de Triomphe, turning to a road and going straight ahead.

The wind blew harsher, your nose getting irritated from the cold. You guess Callum's coat wasn't enough. You make some turns again till you get to Pont d'léna, now making you ride face to face with the sparkling Eiffel Tower. You got here in time for it.

Your awe for the tower never really faded even after seeing it almost every day for the past several years. Many people wish to see it for the first time again, but you, it will always feel like the first time.

You turn your head back to the road when you go right, on your way back to your flat. Your neck hurts a bit from craning it to the tower, but most of the time, it's worth it.

Again, you feel nostalgic. There's a tall figure standing on the side of the road looking up at the tower. His hair was messy, so as yours, and he was smoking a cigarette. He had something wrapped around his head. You couldn't quite focus on what he looked like exactly from the speed you were going.

You turn your head to the road again. What was that? It was probably a man you've seen around the streets, or somebody you worked with. You shrug it off and continue your ride home.

××《☆》××

It was the morning of the gala. It would start somewhere around six in the evening for dinner. You woke up early for the day.

You're outside a café with Callum, sipping on piping hot coffee and eating your pastries. Every once in a while, a flash is seen in the corner of your eye. Fans or paparazzi, you pay it no mind.

"Is there anything else we need to do or get before we prep for the gala?" You say, putting your cup down gently onto its plate.

"Nope. You seem a lot more nervous than usual. Is there something you wanna change up?" Callum asks, taking a puff out of his cigarette. You shake your head.

"Yeah, I don't know. I've been feeling it since yesterday. There's just... I think something's gonna happen. Something big." You shrug, crossing your arms and leaning on the table. Callum nods, leaning forward too, mirroring you.

"Ah, well, is it good or bad?" He questions, butting of his cigarette. You think for a while, reminiscing on the feeling.

"Actually, it might be good. That's why I'm nervous, you know? I don't want anything to get messed up. Because if something bad were to happen, well..." I shrug, hissing. Callum chuckles.

"Well, alright. We'll double-check everything so it goes smoothly for you, pretty girl." He pats your arm, reassuring you. You grab a hold of his hand, squeezing it and saying "Thank you."

It was afternoon now. You began to prepare for the gala. Your team came in a few minutes ago, and they begin working on you. You're sitting in your chair with your makeup artist fixing you up when the phone rings.

"Callum, can you get that, please?" I shout towards him. He comes out of the kitchen and into the living room we were in. He picks the phone up. You had a clear vision of everything. He leans against the wall, greeting the caller.

Then, his face shifts. It morphs into something you can't read, but Callum seems to hold in a smile. When he notices you looking at him, he turns his back towards you. Instead of speaking in a normal volume, he began to whisper.

What the fuck was that? Who could the caller be? It's probably one of his hookups, for sure. You let it slide. You'll ask about it after.

When Callum hangs up, you immediately call after him.

"Callum, who was it?" Callum turns around, hands in his back pockets and lips pursed. He does this when he's trying to hide something. You raise your brows.

"Just... someone special." He flashes a quick smile and then runs out of the room. Oh. You were right.

"Someone special" was a code name for one of the boys he fell in love with during your time here in Paris. You both were still in college. He was from the architecture department. Things happened, and things fell apart.

But then, you weren't so sure. Every time someone special called our place after their relationship, Callum was always sad after. Maybe something new happened?

When the clock hit five, everyone was on their way down stairs. You were fully prepped now, in your makeup, and dress with your jewellery and heels. Your mask was on, and you put on a large white fur coat.

Upon exiting your apartment complex, bunches of paparazzi blocked by barricades took pictures of you with their bright flashes. Callum and your team huddled around you, trying to get you safely in the car.

You get in your vehicle, and Callum had made an arrangement that he was to drive it. Nostalgia has filled your senses these past few days. You wonder what would come next.

When you arrived at the venue, wlaking through high ceiling halls and large oak doors, the room was filled with masked people, all dressed in various colours. They stood, laughed, and talked, all while drinking their preferred drinks.

It was a bit chilly in here, and you started to regret leaving your coat in your car. You didn't want to ask Callum to go with you to get it, seeing him already in conversation with the guests. You decide to go to the bar area instead.

You get your drink, fiddling with your hands as you wait. The ballroom was elegant, so much more brilliant than you thought it could be. Though, it felt rather lonely. You shake off the feeling once you receive your poison of the night.

Then, an announcement was heard. Everyone was to grab a partner to accompany them to dance. You promised Callum to enjoy the night, and you guess a dance could fulfil that.

You opted to a man who was sitting in the same bar you were in. He brought you a sense of familiarity for some unknown reason. He was slouched in his seat, ash brown hair a bit messy. He was turning his glass in circles.

"Hello." You greeted. When he turned to you, your eyes widened in wonder. He only had one eye hole, the rest of his face covered like yours. He blinks, and you could slightly hear him breathing.

"Hi." He says simply. You scan him, and there's a feeling in you that you definitely knew who this was, you just couldn't pinpoint it.

"I know I'm not in the position as a woman in this economy," you roll your eyes, "but, would you like to dance with me?"

His back straightens, and you think you've made him uncomfortable.

"Oh. I'm so sorry for even think-"

"Yes." He cuts in. He offers you a gloved hand as he stands from his barstool. You're surprised. He's taller than you imagined.

You take a hold of his hand. It's warm. Familiarly warm. He leads you into the middle of the ballroom, other guests already forming into formation. He gently takes your risks into his hold, moving up to his chest. Again, it's so familiar.

He drifts his hands to your sides and clutches it a bit. You feel as though you knew these hands. Like you've memorised the lines on the palm, the way the fingertips swirl, or how the muscles twitch and the joints move.

The orchestra starts to play, and you start to move. There's a flow you follow, and it feels so easy. You hadn't even known there was choreography, but the man you were with did. And he showed you through it.

You couldn't stop looking. Even if your neck started to hurt from looking up, even if you twirled, even if your eyes started to dry. You couldn't stop. And you didn't want to.

His eyes stayed on you all throughout the dance. The way he held you, the way he felt. He was so warm even if his body was covered in multiple layers of fabric. You could feel it. Like you've sunk into his skin.

When the dance ended, and he asked you to go with him, you agreed. You didn't know what he looked like. You only feel like you knew him, but you weren't sure. But even with that running through your head, you agreed.

The outside was cold but warmer than inside. You still shivered as you did before. Just then, a coat is wrapped around your shaking shoulders. You look up at the masked man. He took his coat off, now only dressed with a white button-up and a vest matching his pants. His already messy hair messes up even more now. It's in perfect condition to run your hands through.

You both make your way to the large railing of the balcony, taking a seat on it. It viewed the beautiful Eiffel Tower, its lights sparkling in the night. The wind blows once again. It's peaceful.

You turn your head to the man, and you almost fell over the rail. Sitting in front of you, his face finally unmasked, was Joseph Descamps. Out of all people, you didn't expect your first love to be sat in front of you. Seven years have passed, and he's still beautiful.

Your eyes began to sting as you lifted your hands to your face, discarding your own mask. He smiles, his pretty pink lips curving upward. He looks down, fiddling with the inseams of his pants. Again, it's familiar.

"Hi, Y/N." He whispers gently, taking a hold of your shaking hand. He takes your gloves off, putting them aside. He connects the tips of his fingers to yours, then encapsulates it in his warmth.

You can't speak. You can't breathe. You can't stop your heart from beating the way it was now.

"Seven years, and I finally see you again." He shows his teeth in his smile, and again, you can't stop looking.

"Still not talking?" He asks with a teasing tone, tilting his head.

"Did you know?" You asked, your voice so low you were surprised he even heard. Of course he did. He payed the closest attention to you.

"Know what?" He raises his eyebrows, anticipating your next words.

"That it was me?" He chuckles and shakes his head.

"Of course I did. I mean, I recognised you with one eye. I think I'd recognise you blind." He moves closer, bringing your hand up and placing a kiss on your knuckles.

You laugh. You lift your free hand up and cup his cheek. He leans into it, head laying heavy on your palm. He looks up at you, his eyelids heavy. Fuck.

He closes his eyes, taking his other hand to clasp at your wrist. He kisses your palm, leaving some wet patches from his open mouth. He trails his kisses up to your pulse, and you can't help but grab on his hair.

"Y/N, I've been looking-" Callum says as he runs towards the entrance of the balcony, stopping in his place at the sight of you.

"Oh, you finally met." Finally? You furrow your eyebrows, trying to figure out what he meant. Joseph pulls away from your hands, keeping his eyes on Callum. You turn my head back to the man in front of me, raising an eyebrow.

"What does he mean finally?" You ask Joseph. Callum walks towards us slowly, hands clasped behind his back.

"Uh..." Joseph looks to Callum. Callum raises his hands up. Joseph looks back to you, licking his lips before answering. "I planned it... sorry?"

"Planned it? Sorry? Joseph, why are you saying sorry? This is the best thing ever." You exclaim, and the two men just look at eachother.

"Not to ruin whatever the fuck you guys were doing just then, but the host wants some pictures, so..." He gestures to the door. You purse your lips in disappointment but nod. You get up and straighten your skirt, wiping off any wrinkles.

"I better go." You take your gloves and mask from where you were seated. "Can I see you after the gala?"

Joseph nods. "I was already planning on it." After prepping fully, you just stand there. You then lift your hand. "Bye."

Why was that so awkward? You'll save your self-beating bit later. Before you could even walk a step, Joseph takes your wrist again. You turn around to be met with a kiss on the corner of your lips.

"You look as gorgeous as the day you left." He whispers and presses another kiss on your cheek. They're beet red, you can feel it. He walks away, waving a bye to Callum, too. Callum slowly turns his head to you, then ushers you to go with him.

"What was that?" There's a cheeky smile on his face, and you try to hide your growing one.

"I don't even know."

××《☆》××

He was... clingy. The host, you meant. He was tall and built, but he was honestly so annoying. He kept bragging about his riches and talking about himself. The only time he shut up was when he took a sip of his whiskey.

You look around subtly, trying to keep yourself from rolling your eyes in front of the man, even though he could barely see them from your mask. Speaking of, he didn't wear one. This might've just been a party to make him somewhat the centre of attention for standing out.

"Dance with me, darling." You grimace. You're very glad for these masks. That nickname will be the death of you. And in a bad way.

"I don't feel like dancing. My feet are starting to hurt." I shrug, pointing to my ankles. You thought you were so smart, but he was just so insistent.

"Well, why don't we go upstairs? My office is free, and, you know," He comes disgustingly closer. You can smell his bad breath from his rotting yellow teeth. "I can help you with the aching."

Before you could retort, an arm wraps around your waist, keeping you still. You would've pushed away if you hadn't recognised his touch or his scent.

"Excuse me, sir. I must bring Ms. Pardine home immediately. She is busy tomorrow. And most definitely busy tonight." He turns his head towards you. He felt so tense. Like he was keeping something within him. A feeling so strong.

The man huffs like a child. "And who are you supposed to be?" He crosses his arms. He looks so immature, even with that saggy and wrinkley face.

"A close... friend." Joseph's hand slid down to my hips, clutching it slightly. He tugs you in closer, making you lose balance and place a hand on his chest. You refuse to look his way, or even anyones.

The other man scowls, disgust now visible in his face. "What a slut." He mumbles, finally leaving you alone. Joseph's grip on your hips tightens, and it starts to hurt you a bit.

"Joseph." You say, trying to gently push his hand away. He immediately lets go, turning to you worriedly.

"Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." He rubs your hip to relax it, but you don't relax one bit. Your heart hammers in your chest, and there's a feeling deep in your stomach.

"It's alright. Just take me home." I caress his neck before grabbing his hand, moving through the crowds of people. You try to look for Callum, but when you find him, he's talking, or quite literally eye fucking some guy he was conversating with. He can get home, you guess.

Joseph takes you home in his car. This felt weird. Not badly, just that you've never been driven by him. It felt comforting. You could get used to this.

You tell him the directions to your place, and when you make it, you pause.

"Come in?" You turn your head. Your masks were already long gone, and all you could see was his beautiful face again.

"Are you sure?" He asks, voice shaking. You can't believe he's still nervous with you, especially with that stunt he pulled with your wrist on a public balcony. You'll tease him about it soon.

"With you? Always." So then you went up to your room, and as soon as you did, his hands were on you again. He backs you up until your back hits the wall behind you. You're both breathing so heavy it's the only thing you could hear in the entire flat.

"I missed you. And I need you. So fucking much." He whispers, one hand cupping your face and the other roaming your waist. Your legs go wobbly, so you take your heels off, making you shorter than you already were standing in front of him.

"Fuck." You mumble. "Kiss me already."

He smashes his lips against yours feverishly, and you could taste everything he had that night. Wine, whiskey, cigarettes, and even strawberries. His tongue swipes your lips as he lets out a groan.

He pulls you closer, kneeling a bit to grab your thighs, then carrying you with ease, all while he loses his breath from kissing you. He lets go of your face to let his hands roam the area, not wanting to accidentally hit your wall.

"Bedroom?" He asks, parting for only a millisecond before placing his pretty pink lips on yours again. You have to fight the urge not to drown in him.

"To the left." He nods, continuing to kiss you as he reverts his way to the left side of your flats. You bump a few things on the way, like some side tables and magazines.

You finally make it to the bedroom, and he lies down gently onto your bed. He slows his lips, savouring the way you tasted. It makes you squirm in anticipation, and you feel a smirk on his lips as he continues. He parts away, a small string of saliva accentuating it. He pants before he speaks.

"I wasn't lying. I really fucking need you. Please. Please, tonight." He whimpers, arms wobbling from where he placed it to hover over you. You just can't say no.

One nod sealed the deal for him, and his lips were on you again. This time, it's on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your eyes.

He pecks down to your neck. Everything inside you feels so fuzzy, especially when he kissed and sucked on those sensitive parts. He lowers down to your shoulders, and you can feel the bruises forming. You love the way it feels. You love the way he feels. You love him.

××《☆》××

End - Chapter nine: You Belong To Me

Next - Chapter Ten: I love you

××《☆》××

WHAT'S UP GUYS??? So, like this is nice (i need him so bad OMFGGGGG) totally can still breathe after that last scene (i can't i want him pls omg) so like hope you enjoyed THAT cliffhanger. It's better than my old cliffhangers, right? But overall, i hope you enjoyed THE WHOLE chapter bcs its real nice, and it's all me. ONE CHAPTER LEFT!!!

[forbiddentaako]

Where is your heaven hiding?

[wangxianficrecs]

💙 Am I (Gusu Lan Cultivator, 24 M) the Asshole? by moonwaif

💙 Am I (Gusu Lan Cultivator, 24 M) the Asshole?

by moonwaif (@moonwaif)

M, 41k, Wangxian

Summary: After learning that his roommate and BFF Wei Wuxian is gay, Lan Wangji vows to be a supportive ally. Then one day, Wei Wuxian brings home another man. [Inspired by that one AITA subreddit story.] Kay's comments: AH! This story really is the epitome of one of my favourite tropes: oblivious Lan Wangji! It's so well-written and I love the misunderstandings so much and Lan Wangji's unintentional dickishness, because he doesn't realize that he's crushing hard on Wei Wuxian. He gets sooo jealous of Wen Ning, it's such a joy to read. Excerpt: The first thing he sees is, thankfully, Wei Wuxian. He’s lying on the couch, flat on his stomach and moaning while another man massages his back. Lan Wangji doesn’t breathe. “Mn, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian stirs, head turning slightly in the direction of the door, his eyes remaining closed. “That you?” Lan Wangji doesn’t answer. The other man—the one who is seated on top of Wei Wuxian, straddling his hips—withers under Lan Wangji’s glare, but he doesn’t stop massaging. “Oh, sorry.” Wei Wuxian laughs breezily. “This is, ah—Wen Qionglin. Wen Ning, this is Lan Wangji.” Wen Qionglin ducks his head. “P-pleased to meet you.” Lan Wangji refuses to look at him. “What are you doing?” he grits out, teeth clenched. “Night hunt,” Wei Wuxian grunts. “Threw out my back. Ugh, yeah, Wen Ning, right there . . .” Wen Qionglin digs his thumbs deeply into Wei Wuxian’s lower back, while Wei Wuxian makes some more lewd noises. Lan Wangji has the sudden impulse to grab them and throw them both off the couch. Instead he stomps off to his room, tosses his duffle bag on the bed and starts to unpack. Aggressively. Is this why Wei Wuxian didn’t text Lan Wangji, because he was busy fooling around with Wen Qionglin?

pov lan wangji, modern setting, modern with magic, roommates, oblivious lan wangji, friends to lovers, misunderstandings, miscommunication, jealous lan wangji, jealous wei wuxian, implied/referenced homophobia, lan wangji has friends, angst with a happy ending, feelings realization, hurt wei wuxian, emotional hurt/comfort, coming out

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[fabuladorah]

Okay the gays did not win but the aromantics did so I won regardless

[lettuceish]

i can die happy now

[darthbloodorange]

They said Steve should get a hobby to aid him in adjusting to the 21st century. Well, it seems he's made something of a hobby of adopting strays.

For the: ✦ Stucky Bingo - Pets [I3] (Card: 5054)

Word count: N/a - Moodboard Title: A Warm Heart to Call Home Rating: Gen Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Justice the Cat, Liberty the Cat, Peace the Dog Warnings: None Major Tags: Alternate Universe, Shrunkyclunks, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Pets, Assassin Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century ~ Summery: They said Steve should get a hobby to aid him in adjusting to the 21st century. Well, it seems he's made something of a hobby of adopting strays.

[Concept below the cut]

A moodboard for an AU of mine (that I'll hopefully create for some time down the line). 

Basically, the story is: Steve is still adjusting to the 21st century and living alone in his own apartment. He works with SHIELD and the Avengers but spends most of his time alone. 

He finds a stray cat in a park during a morning run and adopts her (Liberty). He has to look after this opinionated and very independent cat used to being a stray while also handling all his other duties... which takes some learning. Setting him further in the path of his rival, The Winter Soldier (Modern Assassin Bucky). They end up bonding over his cat as Steve ends up having to call in Bucky's help (as everyone else is busy with their own stuff). Captain America calling in a villain to cat-sit probably WON'T look good in the press, he knows.

Disaster strikes (A fire), and Liberty goes missing. Bucky is there to help. And Steve ends up with another stray (Justice the cat). Then he rescues another stray (Peace the Dog). Then Bucky and Steve get together (forget the cat-sitting, what would the would make of Captain America getting fucked by a world-wanted assassin). Then possibly Alpine joins the mix???

[IMAGE ID: A 3x3 grid of images. 1- Justice the Cat. A large, fluffy ginger cat with a white chest and chin, and golden eyes. 2- A window wet with rain, looking up at a stormy grey skyline. 3- Steve in the Commander Rogers uniform from the Winter Soldier movie. 4- A store full of pet furniture. 5- Liberty the cat. A stripy grey cat with green eyes lying in the sun. 6- An old light brown leather couch that looks dry and cracked. 7- Bucky with long hair wearing his winter soldier outfit without the mask. 8- A brown leaf stuck to a rainy window looking out on nature. 9- Peace the dog. A white dog with upright ears and a wide smiley mouth with her tongue hanging out.]

[anotherfuckingmarvelfanaccount]

Uh, Guys?

My Masterlist

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: There Was Only One Bed, no smut (i know, rare for me these days), idiots in love. bi!reader, bc both bucky and natasha are hot and i’m so fucking gay. implied bi!natasha bc she also likes bucky. mentions of guns, shooting, blood, and medical supplies. nervous!reader. best friends to lovers x2. it’s just pretty fluffy

Word Count: 2417

Summary: You get put on a mission with both the infamous Winter Soldier and Black Widow to take down a Hydra base. You get shot and the extraction plan goes haywire but Tony knows a safe house. The only issue? There’s only one bed and you have a massive crush on both assassins.

**

“Okay, HYDRA missions are officially the worst.” You said into your comms, running through the halls, away from gunfire, towards the computer terminal. You threw the door closed behind you and quickly looked around for any agents or doors that could be used to attack you. Seeing that you were leaning against the only door, you grabbed a chair and shoved it under the doorknob.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Natasha asked through the comms.

You nodded before remembering she couldn’t see you. “Ah, yea-um, maybe.” You said, plugging the USB in. “I’m in the room with the computer, but I’m pretty sure I got shot.”

“I’m on my way to you, Y/N.” Bucky said, jogging towards where he knew the terminal was.

“Don’t bother, I shoved a chair under the door so nobody can get in and I’m not moving it just for you to carry me out of here. I’m fine, I’m still standing, and- oh, okay, I’m bleeding more than I thought, but I’m fine.” You replied, downloading all of the files on the computer for Tony and FRIDAY to sort through later.

Bucky sighed audibly through the door, “Really, N/N? Let me in please, just so you don’t accidentally bleed out alone?” 

You checked the files to make sure they were downloading properly and moved the chair enough so you could open the door to make sure Bucky wasn’t being impersonated by a HYDRA agent. “What’s the password?” You asked, knowing that everyone on the team had a secret password with the other in case of something like this.

Bucky chuckled, rolling his eyes and leaning in the doorway slightly. “Monopoly.” You sighed dramatically and moved the chair out of the way, letting Bucky in. “You didn’t believe it was truly me?” He asked, dramatically offended.

“Buck, with the way technology is these days, they could probably clone you. Hell, the clone could know the code word and you’re not actually here with me, it’s an agent that’s gonna kill me.” You sat back down, continuously downloading their files and deleting them off the computer once you had them.

“Well, doll, you know that’s not it.” He said, leaning in the doorway to be able to watch you and the hallway.

You chuckled, watching the last of the files download. “Yeah, I know, but it could be.”

Bucky watched drops of blood continuously drip onto the floor. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’re bleeding a lot.”

“I’m fine, Buck. This is not the first time I’ve been shot. It’s not important.” You said, pulling the USB out and turning to him.

“Where is it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My bicep is going to be fine.” You replied calmly, walking out of the room and jogging back towards where the three of you landed after parachuting out of the quinjet.

“Did you just try to convince me that your arm wasn’t important?!” Bucky shouted after you, jogging to catch up, the both of you running out of the building and to Natasha.

She raised an eyebrow at you and Bucky, motioning around to the empty clearing. “First of all, your arm is extremely important. Secondly, apparently, they booked more missions than extractions, so we have no way of getting home for the immediate future. Third, Tony has a safe house about 3 miles northeast of here, and he sent me the coordinates. Apparently we’re stuck together until at least morning.”

Bucky nodded at Natasha’s words and started walking northeast, you and Natasha following behind. You quickly fell into a rhythm of just following their footsteps as you got lost in your own head. It wasn’t that you were scared of Natasha or Bucky, not at all. You and Nat had been best friends for years, and Bucky was one of the only other people you would go to when you were feeling out of it. Your current issue was that you had feelings for them both, which had ruined your last relationship, since your ex-girlfriend figured out that she was not your priority. Cradling your arm to your chest, Natasha and Bucky finally realized you weren’t contributing to the conversation and turned to look at you.

“N/N?” Bucky asked softly, snapping you out of your trance. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You said, sighing. “This just hurts a little more than I thought. How much further do you think it is?”

Nat smiled, laughing at you a little. “Darling, it’s been 10 minutes. We have a while to go.”

“It’s not still bleeding, is it?” Bucky asked again.

“No, the bullet lodged in my shoulder, so it’s not bleeding. Let’s just go, please? I’d really like to sit down.” You replied, walking past them in the direction you had all started in.

Natasha and Bucky gave each other a look before Bucky jogged over to you, picked you up bridal style, and kept jogging. Nat was jogging after the two of you, figuring that Bucky would want to get you to the safe house, stitched up and bulletless as soon as possible before your injury got any worse.

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

Twenty minutes of light jogging and your complaining that you could walk perfectly fine and Bucky didn’t need to carry you anywhere passed the time quickly, and before you knew it, the three of you were standing on the porch of the safe house. Natasha opened the door and allowed Bucky to take you inside. 

“Uh, guys? I may be hallucinating from blood loss, but there’s only one bed.” You said, tapping Bucky on the shoulder.

Natasha and Bucky shared a look, Bucky setting you down on the bed. “Tony did this on purpose.” She said, sitting next to you. “You know we’re gonna have to take your tac suit off to dress the wound, right?” 

“Yeah, I know.” You said, wincing. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, cradling your arm as he slid it out of your sleeve.

“I’m just in a bit of pain, and I’m not wearing a shirt underneath this.” Bucky’s eyes widened. “It’s comfier without the shirt and the fabric crinkles weirdly, but I’m wearing a bra.” You reassured him. “You aren’t gonna see everything, Buck.”

“I’ll still feel better if Nat does it.” He said, shifting his weight between his feet.

Nat glanced between the two of you. “I can’t do that. I can’t stitch wounds, Buck. It has to be you, especially because that’s Y/N’s dominant arm.”

“Yeah, I can’t pull the bullet out and stitch my own wound shut this time, unfortunately.” You said, shrugging with your unwounded arm. “But if it would make you feel better, Nat can help me out of my suit. I’m wearing a pair of shorts and I’m sure that there’s an extra shirt around here somewhere that I can wear.”

“I can absolutely help you out of your suit, honey.” Nat said, reaching for the zipper.

Bucky averted his eyes, blushing, as Nat helped you out of the mission-necessary tactical suit. “I’m gonna go find the medical kit I know Tony must have in here, shout when you’re ready for me.” 

“Okay, Buck. Sure.” You said softly, wincing as your shot arm came out of the sleeve.

“Don’t mind his nervousness.” Nat said, moving towards the other shoulder. “He hasn’t really been with anyone since waking up from HYDRA and getting the trigger words taken out of his head. And I know he likes you, so that doesn’t probably make things better.”

Your eyes widened. “Bucky likes me?”

Natasha nodded quickly, “He’s not the only one. Do you have feelings for anyone?”

“I- um, yes? I just don’t want to say anything.” You said, averting your eyes from where Natasha was sliding your tac suit down your body.

“Why’s that?” She asked.

“I have feelings for more than one person. And I’m friends with them both and they’re friends.” You blurted out, feeling her hands skim over the band of your bra.

She nodded in response, slipping a finger in the band. “This is cute. Where’d you get it?”

“Ardene, you’d like it. I get a lot of stuff from there.” You breathed a sigh of relief that she was going to let this topic slide.

“Do I know either of them?” She asked, sliding your suit down further.

You nodded. “Both of them. Quite close, actually.”

“Am I?” You shivered slightly as you felt her breath ghost over your stomach. “You know it’s okay to talk about feelings, honey.” You hummed in agreement, mulling over in your head whether or not to tell her. “Buck or I won’t judge you.” Nat pulled your suit off and ran her hands up and down your calves a few times in a soothing motion.

Bucky popped his head back into the room. “What aren’t we judging?”

“Y/N has a crush on two people she’s friends with, they’re friends, and I’m apparently quite close to both of them.” Nat explained, keeping eye contact with you and slightly raising one eyebrow to make sure she got the facts right. You nodded once, sharply, fighting the urge to crawl under the covers and curl in on yourself.

“Oh, baby doll.” Bucky said, coming to sit next to you on the bed. “You know you can tell us anything.” He wrapped an arm around you and you burrowed your face into his chest. “Oh shit, this is something you’re really nervous about, isn’t it, doll?”

You nodded, knowing now you were going to have to tell both of them the truth. “I like you.” You said softly, knowing Bucky’s super-soldier hearing would pick it up.

“You like me, baby doll?” He asked, rubbing your back as Nat came to sit on your other side. You nodded again, attempting to burrow further into his chest. “Hey, that’s okay, sweet pea. I like you too.”

“Nat told me that.” You said softly, feeling the glare from your best friend burn into your back.

“Who’s the other one, N/N?” She asked sharply.

“You.” You said into Bucky’s chest, knowing he pointed at Nat when he heard you say it.

“Me?” Nat asked, surprised. 

You nodded, pulling your head out of Bucky’s chest, but not willing to meet either of their eyes. “Of course it’s you guys. It’s always been the two of you there for me.” You paused, letting them mull over what you just said. “It’s why Meg and I split.”

Bucky turned you to face him so he could start pulling the bullet out of your shoulder. “How so, baby doll?” Nat rested her chin on your other shoulder, holding out a hand for you to squeeze.

“Well, she didn’t like the fact that I was constantly on missions, which is literally my job, so that didn’t help matters. But the other thing is that she said I looked at you guys differently than her, treated the two of you better.” You said, looking down and squeezing Nat’s hand.

Nat rubbed your back, knowing that if you hadn’t told the two of them this, you hadn’t told anyone. “She broke up with you because she could tell you liked us?”

You nodded. “She said that if she wasn’t my first priority then we weren’t meant to be. And work is always my priority.”

“But then it’s us?” Bucky asked softly, stopping the bleeding of the removal from the bullet before he stitched you shut again.

“Yeah.” You said softly. “She didn’t like that much.”

Bucky stitched you up, and as he had changed out of his suit while finding the medical kit, pulled his shirt off for you to wear. “Here, sweetheart. You’re all stitched up.”

“Oh, thank you, Buck.” You said, putting on his shirt, the nickname and his scent lighting your insides on fire. You sighed softly, curling up under the covers and rolling away from both of them, not knowing what to say to your two closest friends now that you had spilled your heart to them and they didn’t say anything.

Nat knelt next to you on the bed, gently placing a hand on your busted shoulder. “N/N, please don’t pout. Buck and I have talked, because we both like each other, and you. We want to try to make this work.”

Bucky knelt on the floor, cupping your face in his hands. “We don’t have to move quickly, baby doll, we just wanna be with you, if that’s something you’d be okay with.”

“Yeah.” You said softly. “I’d be okay with that. But how does something like this even work?”

“Baby, this is like any relationship, we’ll figure it out as we go. Communication and comprehension is key. And we’re pretty good at that.” Nat said, gently rolling you onto your back. “So why don’t we just start with cuddles? And we can go from there later.”

You nodded, moving over to the middle of the bed so they could both crawl in with you. “Is this okay? Or did you guys want to be closer to each other?”

“This is perfect, baby doll.” Bucky said, reaching across you to throw his arm over both you and Nat.

“Yeah, perfect.” Nat said, snuggling further into your side.

“Yeah, this is everything I’ve ever wanted.” You said, leaning your head against Nat’s while curling further into Bucky.

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

“Quick take a picture!” You heard somebody exclaim to wake you up. You were still very disoriented, having just woken up and you hadn’t even blinked your eyes open when light flashed behind them. 

“What the fuck is that?” Nat mumbled into your shoulder, eyes closed still.

“I dunno.” You mumbled, wrapping an extra arm around her. “Don’ really care either.”

Bucky pulled you both closer. “It’s Sam and Steve here to pick us up.” 

“But ‘m comfy ‘n sleepy.” You mumbled into Nat’s hair.

“I know you are, baby doll.” He said, beginning to untangle himself from the cuddle pile the three of you were in. “How about we all go for a nap back at the compound after we let your bullet wound actually get checked out?” Once untangled, Bucky picked you up in one arm and Nat in the other to carry you back onto the quinjet.

You nuzzled into his shoulder. “That sounds good.”

“So how did this all happen, punk?” Steve asked, taking you carefully from Bucky so neither you or Nat were dropped.

Bucky glanced between you and Nat fondly. “We’re all idiots.”

**

Taglist: @chrisevansdaughter, @buckybarnesandmarvel, @sarahrogersevans, @nana1000night

Let me know if you want to be added or removed!

Yall I am so sorry that it’s been so long since I posted, but this is finished now and I hope you like it. I hope to get a lot more fics out by the end of August bc then I’ll be moving and starting at a new school and it’s gonna be a whole thing.

[clov3sr]

Uno, Out | Jude Bellingham

♡ — pairing(s): Jude Bellingham x reader

♢ — author annotations: hi my name is clov3 there's a global demand for pretty football boy fanfics and I write here look at me writings hehe

♤ — c/t w(s): none <3

♧ — synopsis: Your best friend Jude accidentally ends your hangout with a love confession.

♫ — music inspo.: JUST FRIENDS BY AUDREY MIKA

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ 1:11 ───ㅇ───── 2:48

GIF by avenirdelight

"Grow the hell up, Bellingham."

"I'm just saying that's not a legit UNO rule, and I think you know that."

"What I know?" You pause, dramatic as always. Jude misses that flair when he's away. "Is that as newly delegated UNO champion I can't understand your peasant ramblings? What are you saying right now, Ju?"

He doesn't have to look to know the stupid grin you're wearing, but he does anyway and bites his own bottom lip so as not to smile himself. You've just finished tidying the game and snacks up, and his blanket you'd for years claimed as yours had been folded and discarded on your loveseat. He almost forgets what he's looking for, but seeing his shoes in the corner of his vision jogs his memory.

"Man," he exhales, one hand on the wall steadying himself as he lazily shoves his feet into his shoes. In the corner nearest the door is a pair of his slippers that you keep around for him, should he need or want them. "It was just one game."

"Don't care. You got dethroned."

You've approached the entryway now, hands defiantly on your hips. Your head is tilted upwards, partly because Jude is tall and partly a consequence of your ballooned ego. Jude wants to bask in your amusement for much, much longer, too much longer than appropriate for just friends, but yet another notification from the team group chat reminds him that he really can't stay.

He yearns to stay with you.

He could bring up how he'd won the three games beforehand, but the moment is gone now, and he opts to just shake his head.

"Don't die, okay?" You huff, and he gives one last glance that he pleads with every God out there that it isn't full of too much longing for you. He knows what you're asking.

"I'll text you."

You only hum in response. It's been a couple of months now, that every time he leaves you, he wants to pepper your face with kisses and assure you that he can't wait to return. He wants to come home to your signature scent, an airy contrast to the usual smell of cut grass and athletic equipment. He imagines you drowning in one of his shirts, that perfect, stupid, contagious grin to comfort him about leaving.

"Bye, Jude,"

You say something, and he hears it, but the words don't quite penetrate his brain. You're probably saying bye. Your voice is like a song he'll never be able to overplay, a saccharine syrup he will never get tired of swimming in. Jude imagines you embracing him fondly right before he walks out the door. He envisions making sure you know, always,

"Bye, y/n, I love you."

"What?"

Fuck.

His subtle smile drops. He's already got one foot out the door, he's already got his lanyard in one hand ready to fish out the car keys, the other in the middle of closing the door behind him. He can't see your face.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The door is closed. He swears he hears a confused call of his name, followed by another confused "what?" but if he did, it was too muffled by the very shut front door for him to be sure. He's already in the motion of casually strolling toward his car.

Fuck? Fuck.

He could cry right now, but he's too dumbfounded, and before the grief can reach a resulting action, he's starting the car.

No, it's sinking in now.

In his peripheral he sees your front door fly back open. You're running out to his car, no shoes on. He's complained to you about that before -- you could step on something sharp. Before he can decide what to do, you've nearly fallen face-first into the driver-side window while halting to a stop, swinging open his car door. Your eyes are wide as you balance one hand on your bare knee, the other holding the door open.

"I love you too!"

♢ — author postnote (s): gym equipment has that goddamn smell bro ik you know what im talking about shit. like its got me heated rn is there a word for that smell. also this app sucks how many times do I have to post this

[daily-kinitopet]

Day 28

I just wanted to give you an easy option.

[todayisafridaynight]

what makes minedai even sadder is that we never rlly see daigo try to build a bond with anyone else like he did with mine it rlly shows how badly it effected him like yeah he reached out to shinada in y5 but that’s rlly it and he probably would wanna leave him alone after that and not involve him in any yakuza stuff so i don’t think they would’ve hung out or anything like that afterwards. All he rlly had were saejima and majima but they were more like babysitters than anything, wish we saw more of their dynamic tho like we did with majima and daigo in dead souls since that was fun and we were lowkey robbed but in canon he’s just as lonely as he was before majimas promise to kiryu. And mine is the only person he really had a meaningful relationship with romantic or not they were still really close and we don’t see that again with daigo ever (from what i recall after y3) ok sorry for rambling LMFAO

even with shinada, he reached out to him more so out of 'duty' and trying to make up for the misfortune that befell him because of yakuza than wanting to rekindle any kind of friendship they might have had in high school (though it sounds more like they were just acquaintances if shinada needing a second to remember who daigo was is anything), so yah i doubt they really had any kind of bond afterwards

dead souls really was the only time after Y3 where we got to see daigo be more sociable with someone, but its as you say majima and saejima are more like retainers than close friends

[promptingyou]

(blank) to lovers

classmates who always end up sitting beside each other bc their last names start with the same letter

comedic duo side character friends who seem very platonic in group settings but show more vulnerability when they spend some time alone

academic rivals who eventually find out they both work hard for the same (usually tragic) reason

co-workers at a very fancy (and expensive) cafe who originally only know each other based on their customer service persona but eventually get to know the real them

town tarot card reader and local newspaper skeptic

star athlete and the (physically), weakest assistant manager known to exist

strangers who meet on the last train out of town: one having had the best day of their life and the other having had the worst (like that meme lmao)

best friend of the class clown and best friend of the class president

chronically online nerd and off the grid farmer

friend of a friend of a friend of a friend

fake dating (but as spies or something in a life or death situation)

penpals since they were 13, vowed to never meet in person, but did so accidentally

airport crush to crush at the resort your family is staying at for a family reunion to return flight airport crush

neighbours who end up helping each other since each of their weaknesses are perfectly supported by the other's strengths

minimalist friend and maximalist friend

small craft supply store part-timer and camp counselor

two friends who have endlessly convinced themselves that they have no romantic feelings for each other but eventually realize that theyre the only one for them when it's almost too late

exes to platonic co stars in a movie/show/play

met on a dating app and eventually went on a date bc they thought it would result in a funny story but actually it led

caterer and florist who both work with an insufferable wedding planner

new years kiss with a stranger at a grubby local bar