#he's probably just going to sound like a creaking chair by the time he has to get up

[pickingupmymercedes]

Lucky you're hot - Lewis Hamilton

request: "hiiiii!!! your fluffs are so cute 😔🤍 i have a request if you dont mind writing it. maybe one where reader came home from work and then after an hour or so lewis just come barging in saying that reader has been home for a while but didnt even cuddle him once?😔😔😔😭" - anon

warnings: none, it's fluff through and through.

wordcount: +1k

a/n: Needy and cute Lewis and sassy Lewis come hand in hand for me, so yeah, hope you like it ❤️

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Why did I agree to this meeting? It was a thought I’d had at least a dozen times today.

I kicked the front door shut behind me, tossing my bag onto the couch without even looking. My feet were halfway out of my heels as I practically flew down the hall toward the study.

I should’ve been curled up on the couch by now, probably in one of Lewis’ hoodies, something hot in my hand, and maybe, just maybe, thinking about ordering dinner.

But no, I was about to dive headfirst into yet another Zoom call.

The joys of modern life.

Ten minutes. Just survive ten minutes, and then you can call it a night.

I slid into the chair, popping open my laptop with a level of enthusiasm I definitely didn’t feel. Clicking into the meeting, I gave the screen a once-over.

Same old faces. I hit mute, leaned back, and settled into my usual routine—pretending to pay attention while my mind wandered elsewhere.

Perfect. Camera on, mic off, brain in neutral.

I was practically a Zoom ninja at this point. As long as I nodded occasionally and didn’t zone out too hard, no one would even notice I wasn’t listening.

The meeting droned on, voices blending into a background hum as I half-heartedly doodled on a notepad. Something about deliverables, reports, something-or-other that I wasn’t going to remember in an hour.

My eyes kept drifting toward the clock at the bottom of the screen, counting down the minutes until I could escape.

I barely registered the sound of the door creaking open behind me. My brain was too fried to even care. I assumed it was the wind.

Or maybe Lewis moving around the house. Whatever it was, it wasn’t important enough to break my focus—or lack thereof.

Then, I heard footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, and way too familiar.

Before I could fully process what was happening, a very large, very sweaty figure appeared in the doorway and my stomach dropped.

Not now. And not like that.

“Excuse me, love” Lewis announced, his voice filled with dramatic offense. “You've been home for an hour, and not one cuddle? I’m feeling deeply neglected.”

I froze, my fingers tightening around the pen in my hand. I shot him a wide-eyed look, silently screaming at him to go away. But he wasn’t even looking at me.

No, this man was strolling into the room as if I wasn’t in the middle of an important meeting. Or, you know, on camera.

Lewis, completely unbothered, strolled over, looking every bit the part of an Olympic athlete straight out of battle—glistening with sweat, muscles still tense from whatever torturous workout he’d just finished.

And for some reason, pouting.

“Lewis” I hissed under my breath, barely daring to move my lips. “I’m in a meeting.”

He just blinked at me like he didn’t understand the gravity of the situation and I saw the gears in his head turning.

But, without a care in the world, he walked over and bent down, leaning in close, lips puckered in the most exaggerated, dramatic fashion possible.

I raised my hand to stop him, but it was too late. His lips landed on mine with a loud, unmistakable smack.

The kind of kiss that would’ve been cute—if it weren’t for the fact that I was very much on camera, in a professional setting, with a dozen or so people watching.

“LEWIS,” I whisper-yelled, my eyes wide with horror as I frantically glanced at my screen.

Sure, my mic was muted, but my camera definitely wasn’t.

There, staring back at me, was a grid of stunned, amused faces, watching the world’s most casual Zoom crash unfold before their eyes.

Great, this was really happening.

I held up a hand to the screen, as if that would somehow undo what just occurred.

“Uh… sorry, everyone,” I said, my voice coming out more flustered than I intended. “Apparently, I’ve been home for an hour and, uh… neglected someone.”

Yeah, I was never living this down.

That’s when I noticed it—half the people on the call were starstruck. Eyes wide, jaws dropped, as if Lewis Hamilton walking into my study had somehow shattered the laws of the universe.

It got better and better.

Apparently, some of them hadn’t put two and two together that my Lewis Hamilton was the multiple world champion of F1, Lewis Hamilton.

Lewis, still completely oblivious to the chaos he’d caused, blinked at the screen and it took him a second—an agonizingly long second—before he finally seemed to register the fact that we had an audience.

“Oh,” he said, blinking again. “Uh… Hi, everyone.”

The laughter was immediate. My entire screen lit up with amused faces, and I could feel the heat rising in my neck.

I wanted to crawl under the desk and hide forever, but Lewis? He just stood there, completely unbothered, one arm casually draped over my shoulder like this was all part of the plan.

One of my colleagues cleared their throat, clearly trying - and failing - to hold back laughter.

“You know, Y/n,” one of them said, smirking, “if you ever need to end a meeting early, just invite Lewis.”

The rest of the group erupted in laughter again, and I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips.

Real funny, dude. Hilarious.

I noticed some of the newer faces on the call still looking at Lewis like they couldn’t believe their eyes. A few of them nudging each other in the chat, their messages popping up on the side of my screen.

“Wait… is that Lewis Hamilton?” one person wrote, followed by another typing, “How did I not know she’s dating him?!” and a string of heart-eye emojis.

Great. Just what I needed. Let’s add a little office gossip into the mix while we’re at it.

Lewis squeezed my shoulder, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the top of my head. As if I wasn’t already mortified enough, I thought.

I shot him a look, my eyes narrowing into a silent warning. Don’t push your luck, Hamilton.

But all he did was smirk back, leaning in closer, like he was about to kiss me again.

“I swear to God,” I muttered under my breath

“I missed you” he whispered back, the teasing lilt in his voice making it impossible for me to stay mad.

I glanced back at the screen, my colleagues still chuckling amongst themselves. Okay, that was definitely the universe telling me to call it a day.

Clearing my throat, I forced a smile and addressed the group. “Right,” I said, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. “I think we’ve covered everything, haven’t we?”

A few of them nodded a little too eagerly, clearly ready to wrap things up.

“Yeah,” someone chimed in, “we’ll, uh, let you get back to your important duties.”

The laughter returned, and I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes again.

With one final, hasty goodbye, I clicked out of the meeting and slammed my laptop shut with a little more force than necessary.

“You realize what you’ve done, right?” I said, turning to Lewis, who was now looking far too pleased with himself.

He grinned, that signature, disarming smile. “Fixed your day?” he said, pulling me into his arms with ease.

I let out a long, dramatic sigh but didn’t resist when he wrapped his arms around me. “Fixed it, huh?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Meeting’s over, and now I get my cuddles.”

This man… I swear.

I thought, though I couldn’t help but smile as I rested my head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You’re lucky you’re hot” I mumbled into his chest; my voice muffled by the fabric of his still sweaty shirt.

He chuckled, his hand gently stroking my back. “Lucky, huh?”

“Very” I whispered, closing my eyes and letting myself melt into the warmth of his embrace.

Because, truth be told, as much as Lewis drove me absolutely insane, he was still the one person I couldn’t imagine my life without.

And yeah, maybe I’d never live down the fact that he’d barged into my meeting demanding kisses, but honestly?

Right now, I didn’t really mind all that much.

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[fatedroses]

Head Rest/Back Rest

[st6rly]

just to sit outside your door.

[ !! ] — masterlist. info: wriothesley x gn!reader, hurt/comfort, patching up injuries, scenario warnings: mentions of blood, injuries notes: unfinished again bc um too much and i’ll be accidentally spoiling the 5+1 fic i have planned for him. basically a little ‘who did this to you?” type of post while i work on some longer stuff. could be seen as criminal!reader x wriothesley but i have a different post planned for that :))

the fortress creaked and groaned as the metal settled, mingled with a sigh as wriothesley stretched out his back, joints popping as he cracked his neck. he glanced at the clock that sat on the corner of his desk. the brass still had a gleam to it despite the weathered look. 

“sigewinne is probably ready to turn in for the night,” he muttered to himself, scratching the back of his neck, and stood up out of his chair. 

wriothesley collected the couple papers he still needed to look over into a small pile and walked out of his office. muffled shouts could be heard from further in the fortress, clipped conversations and frantic yells startling the duke as he turned the corner. 

“what in the..” he trailed off as he walked closer. 

“where’s the medi-“

“-winne has gone ho-“ 

“don’t move, y/n!” 

the last phrase was a full sentence, one that made his blood freeze. he paused in his steps, eyes widening a fraction before he hastily ran down to the source of the shouting; the main floor was bustling when he arrived, items being passed around as a small group of people gathered around a specific area. 

“sir, you shouldn’t-”

“shouldn’t what?” he gritted out, voice gruff as he shook off the secretary’s arm, watching with mild satisfaction as she backed away and nodded in understanding. 

“wriothesley?” he snapped his head to the sound of your voice to where his neck almost came clean off. his brow furrowed as he drew closer, noting the tears in your clothing and the gash on your side. 

“what happened?” it sounded like less of a question and more of a demand; he was fully expecting answer of who would even think to attack you. 

you grinned sheepishly, wincing as you moved your arm and waved at him. 

“that’s a funny story actually. you see-“

“i’m not here for silly little stories, y/n, voice low, he crouched down and lightly placed a hand on your cheek. “i’ll say this one more time before i go out and hunt the bastard down myself.”

he stared you dead in the eyes, anger displayed in them but concern and worry was clearly present as well.

“who did this to you?” 

[swordsandholly]

Treat Me Gently (Because No One Else Will)

Ch 1: The Arrangement | next | masterlist | Ao3

Ghoap x reader | MDNI 18+ | cw: PiV sex, fingering

You yawn and stretch, back popping all the way up as you finally give it some reprieve from your hours of sitting at your low coffee table that doubles as your work station. As much as you try to stop hunching like a goblin, you always slip back into it. It’s hard when your mind gets lost in the words and the pages flying by. Good posture seems to equal bad writing, unfortunately.

Your knees pop slightly as you stand up from your cushion that doubles as a ‘chair’, decidedly clocking out for the evening. Really, you should have stopped two hours ago, but you just can’t get this one damn scene right. You sigh, heading to your dresser to change out of your “work” clothes and into a ratty, oversized shirt and pajama shorts. Your phone dings just as you go to stand in front of the fridge that you already know is practically empty.

S >> Come over?

S >> I got takeout.

You snicker. Perfunctory and presumptuous, as usual. He timed it out for when he knew you’d be done with work - even taking in your propensity to go well passed your designated office hours. He probably knew you were out of food, too. Not that you’d ever expect less from Simon Riley.

>> Give me 5

You pad across the the hallway between your flats, the dangling of your keys echoing off the old walls. The floorboards always creak, announcing your presence before you could even knock on the door. Simon’s place is bigger than yours - a one bedroom as opposed to your studio. Both have small balconies, his furnished with only two fold-out chairs. You’ve tried to convince him to get a plant or something, but he just insists it will die in a day despite that being literally impossible. The whole of the apartment is sparsely decorated - the main features being that of his well worn L-shaped couch and the fancy surround sound system Simon installed. The rest of it made up of shelves lined with physical media and books.

“Evenin’.” Simon says from his kitchen as you let yourself in. He stands at the island, broad shoulders hunched as he fiddles with something.

The lock clicks behind you when you shut the door. Some soft classical music drifts from the speakers. You don’t recognize it, but you also know that asking will result in a lecture that will undoubtedly become a pop quiz at a later date. You don’t need another Tchaikovsky incident on your hands.

“Sushi?” Your brows raise as you eye the rolls and sashimi. He really went all out. “What’s the occasion?”

Simon shrugs, plating the food up on his uniform black, square plates. Yours sits neatly on a plate of it’s own, soy sauce and all. Sometimes you wonder if he keeps an index of your take out orders or if his memory is just that good. “Shipping out soon. Figured I’d get it while I could.”

You grin and move behind him. He shivers slightly as you push your cool hands up under his shirt to run along his strong core. “Doesn’t have anything to do with the whole aphrodisiac thing?”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, bird.” Simon feigns ignorance. The corner of his mouth briefly quirks up before he forces it back down.

“Sure, sure.” You retract your hands, wandering over to pick up the TV remote off the well worn coffee table. “Which movie are we on?”

“Blackwell Ghost 5.”

You settle in your usual spot on the couch, leaning on the right armrest. Simon has always liked the middle - he says it’s the best for his back. You know it’s just because he likes to manspread five miles wide. It doesn’t bother you, as you generally prefer to curl up in the corner with your feet tucked. The movie rolls and you eat in comfortable silence, humming around the fresh food. He really does spoil you, sometimes.

You eye Simon while you eat. With anybody else this would all be pretense - an unnecessary preamble to imply, somehow, that this is more than a booty call. Not with Simon. Never with Simon. This is just as important as the rest of it. You watch the way his hands practically dwarf the single-use chopsticks, the way his body melts into the cushions. Your eyes rake over the strong planes of his face littered with various scars; his nose broken one too many times, the ear that’s been slightly clipped by a bullet. His hair has grown out and more stubble sprinkles across his jaw than he usually allows.

“Wotcha lookin’ at?” Simon mumbles around some tuna.

You tilt your head, smiling. “You’re fun to watch.”

“Creep.” He nudges your foot with his knee.

“Freak.” You push back.

“’ow’s the book goin’?” Simon asks.

You groan, shoving your last piece of sushi in your mouth while you debate your answer. “S’fine. Slow. My agent is being a real pain in my ass.”

He hums, that slight smirk gracing his lips. If you knew him any less you might have missed it entirely. “Need some inspiration?”

You sputter out a laugh, placing your plate on the coffee table. “Very smooth, Riley.”

“C’mere.” Simon rumbles, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you over his lap. It’s almost uncomfortable how far you have to stretch to accommodate his hips, but its so worth it as his hands rest on your waist, grinding you down against him. You gasp, giving him entrance to press his lips to yours - tongue flicking over your lower lip.

One hand tangles in his hair, the other caressed downward, shoving his shirt up and tracing the lines of muscle across his torso. You’ve always loved bodies - loved taking in their shapes and texture, their variety - and Simon’s has so much to take in. Ridges of muscle and scars, plus that little plush layer over his middle he gets while home from deployment. You tug on his shirt, only breaking the kiss long enough to yank it off and toss it somewhere on the floor.

“Y’so fuckin’ pretty…” Simon mumbles, hands wandering from your waist, to your hips, to knead at your thighs and the curve of your ass.

You squeak as Simon lifts you, locking your legs around his waist. No matter how many times he does it, his strength still catches you off guard. He doesn’t unlock from your lips, moving back to his room purely based on muscle memory. You have to resist the urge to tease him about the time he knocked your head against the doorframe in this exact position.

Your hands drift over the curvature of his broad shoulders as he lays you back on his bed. You can’t help but be fascinated by him - all hard muscle and sinew. So different from your own soft figure. Even the pads of his fingers are rough as they push under your oversized t-shirt, kneading at the soft layer over your middle.

“This okay?” Simon mumbles in your ear. You nod vigorously as his hands move up, up, up until he’s pulling your shirt and bralette off in one swift motion.

Simon buries his face in your chest, nipping at the sensitive skin before taking a nipple in his mouth. You arch into the touch, unsure of where to put your hands and opting to let them wander.

“May I?” He murmurs, fingers catching in the hems of your underwear and sleep shorts. Again, you nod, forgetting that isn’t enough for him at this stage. “Use your words.”

“Yes! Please, Si.” You whine, rolling your hips against the too-light touch.

Simon chuckles at you, pulling your bottoms off and dropping them onto the floor somewhere. He runs his fingers between your folds, obviously reveling in the way your breath catches and your chest heaves when he finally circles your clit. His lips connect with yours, swallowing every gasp and moan as he presses a finger inside.

“Fuckin’ tight t’night, bird.” He grumbles into your mouth. “‘ave I been neglecting you?”

Quite the opposite. If anything, he’s fucked you silly this past week, but you can’t exactly argue that when he presses against your g-spot and retakes your nipple between his teeth.

“Oh, fuck!” You moan as a second finger joins the first. Your nails dig lightly into his shoulders when he pressed his thumb against your clit, moving in short circles to the rhythm of the fingers inside you. You swear he’s too dexterous to be human sometimes.

You keen, body tensing as stars dance behind your eyes. You can feel the slickness of your cunt on your thighs, the squelch of Simon’s slowed movements almost too lewd.

He only disappears long enough to shuck off his pants before he’s hovering back over you, tucked into the crook of your neck. Simon gives you a moment to come down, cooing praises in your ear. “Doin’ so good f’me. Always so good f’me.”

He sits back to lightly tap his cock against your pussy, sending jolts up your spine, obviously enjoying your reaction. He grinds his cock against you, sliding easily between your soaked folds. “Christ.”

Simon reaches into the nightstand, plucking a condom out from their designated spot. He hands it to you for inspection, as always. You don’t really understand why he still does it after the two of you have had this standing agreement for so long, but it’s not a gesture you’re going to call into question. Some of Simon’s sexual habits are simply best left as they are - they’re always for your mutual benefit, anyway. You flip it over in your fingers briefly before passing it back.

No matter how many times you take him, it’s always a stretch. He’s not the biggest you’ve had, but thick enough the sensation would teeter into pain without any preparation. That’s another thing he insists on: pain has no place in intimacy.

Your lips fall open in a pitchy moan - hands fisting the sheets on either side of you. Simon falls onto his forearms resting on either side of your head. You revel in the way he cages you in, the way his tongue laps at the sweat-slicked skin of your collar bone. You both sigh in sync as his hips finally settle against yours.

You wrap your legs tightly around his back as he begins to move. A solid rhythm slowly turning into something more desperate. Simon sits up, his weight suddenly off you. Just as you crack your eyes open his hands grab tightly onto your hips, lifting them just off the bed. The new angle ruts him against that spot inside you, pushing you over the edge into another orgasm faster than you can process it.

He eventually lets go of your hips, one hand braces by your head, the other tracing your body. Plucking at your nipples, kneading at the flesh of your thighs, pressing onto your soft stomach to emphasize the fullness with him inside you.

“Give me another.” Simon demands, thumb pressing to your clit. His eyes bore through you, watching your every minute expression. “C’mon, one more, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. A rarer pet name - one you’d probably be pissed about coming from anyone else. With Simon it melts into your bones, pooling at the base of your spine. Your eyes roll back, pathetic sounds and babbling falling from your lips as you cum again in such a short span.

“Fuck.” He grunts, voice low and breathless in your ear. “Cunt feels so fucking good when you cum f’me.”

You whine, useless under him. Your limbs are utter jelly. Even as you try to roll your hips with his, your movement is stuttered. Uncontrolled. You know he enjoys how sensitive you are, how pliant you become. It feeds his ego - the part of him that needs to do things right. Your body shudders under Simon’s as he groans, all depth and gravel, his hips stuttering and slowing as he cums.

You both stop, for a moment, foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath enough for Simon to push himself up, tying off the condom and tossing it before falling into his back beside you.

A silence lapses over you - the only sound in the room is that of your breathing with a slight pitch difference between your breaths. You’ve always loved this part. The quiet afterglow. The gentle way Simon will reach over to soothe down your hair while you lazily meet his eye. No words, no expectations. Just existing with someone in your vulnerability. With someone you know is safe.

“Go piss.” Simon points to the bathroom as soon as his breath is even.

You snort, pushing yourself up on slightly shaky arms. “So demanding.”

“So considerate.” He quips back. “It’s important.”

“Fine, fine.” You throw your hands up and pad off to the bathroom. You pause, looking at yourself in the mirror. What is it about Simon’s bathroom that makes you so much more beautiful than your own? Your skin glows nicely, your hair shines even as it’s mussed up from getting fucked six ways to Sunday.

When you come back Simon’s sitting up against the headboard, scrolling through something on his phone. You crawl back into bed beside him, flopping on your back and staring at the ceiling fan as it circles, circles, circles.

“When do you have to leave?”

He sighs, dropping his phone back onto the nightstand. “End of the week.”

You nod, accepting the oncoming semi-dry spell as usual. You’ve always wondered what he does when he’s gone - if he has another you out there. Another arrangement. You can’t imagine Simon going more than a couple days without someone. That’s what brought you into this in the first place - a mutual benefit. You don’t truly feel the need to ask; it’s more curiosity than anything and you don’t want the question to go misinterpreted. Not that Simon would, necessarily, he’s always been good about taking your words at face value.

With a sigh, you roll onto your side to face him, head propped on your hand. “Know where you’re heading?”

“Mexico.” Simon grunts in that tone that signals you to stop asking questions.

You trail your fingers over his chest, through the dusting of blonde hair. “Wanna go again?”

“Fuck yes.” He rolls over. You can’t help but giggle as he knocks your knees apart and eagerly plants himself between your thighs.

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[buckgasms]

Hide & Seek 🤫

Urgh just let me have him please? I'd be such a good bunny 🐰

Smut as always 😉 enjoy

Bucky scrolled through his phone for a little while, checking the clock every so often. A few more minutes, he thought to himself as he smiled.

He had sent you off to hide about five minutes ago, giggling and excited as you ran off to play your game. Although Bucky was going to have his fun too. He growls at the ideas he has for when he finds you. He huffs thinking about how wet you probably already are at being his prey. That's enough, he decides, time to find you.

🤫

As he stalked through the corridors he found himself genuinely excited to find you. What he wasn't expecting was to find you almost immediately. He popped his head into the office and there you had hidden, behind the big curtain, but you hadn't hidden your feet, so your toes were wiggling as you stood behind it.

He had to bite his lip when he heard you giggle. You really were the sweetest if not a little naive.

He debated on whether or not to unveil you right then and there, but decided against it, to tease you a little more.

Luckily for him he had insisted you wear a little device to help him find you. He pulled out his phone as he stood by the door, trying his best to not let you catch him catching you.

A few moments of flicking through his phone and he finds the app connected to your little device. He knows he's done a good job when you moan and buckle behind the curtain.

He flicks the settings up and down peering from the door as he grins like a wolf. You are doing your best to be quiet, even telling yourself to shush but to no avail. He just knows exactly what button to press. Literally.

🤫

You are standing behind the curtain none the wiser. You press your bunny cuddly to your mouth in an attempt to be quiet but you can't help but moan as the toy hums harshly against your clit.

Why did you let daddy have that?

Suddenly you hear a creak and a sigh as he walks into the room. You grip your bunny tight as he comes closer, and sits in the chair only meters from you. The toy has mercifully stopped.

"Where could she be?"

You heard Bucky sigh and tut as he wondered out loud. You had to be strong if you were going to win. Winning meant you got to pick the movie tonight, and you'd get to tie daddy up and do what you wanted all night. He'd promised that you could, but you had to make sure he didn't find you. Only when Daddy gave up would you win.

But daddy never played fair.

Suddenly you heard his belt buckle clink, a sound that sent your heart racing. Then shuffling. Then a groan. And the unmistakable sound of daddy stroking his cock.

"Oh man...if only my princess was here to help me..." He groaned and sighed as you shuffled on your feet, desperate to join in, but really wanting to win this silly game.

He groaned again, fist pumping faster, and you actually pouted behind the curtain. You even stomped your foot. It's not fair that daddy gets to play and you don't.

Suddenly the curtain is pulled back from your face and a grinning daddy is standing there, his laugh erupting when he sees your face. "Found you Princess" he chuckles as you gasp and try to make your escape.

He grabs your arms and pulls you back into him as your squeal. "Daddddy it's not fair! You were playing without me!" You whine up at him, tugging at his shirt. He presses a kiss to your lips, but you won't be distracted.

"Was gonna tie you up and play" you said with a pout and he does seem to look a little sorry for you. He leans forward, hands squeezing at your ass as he presses more kisses to your cheeks.

"Tell you what... I'll give you a second chance. If you can get to our bedroom before I catch you, I'll let you be in charge tonight, how's that?"

Before he even finished you pelted for the door, giggling as you heard him shout out something. You squealed when he appeared out of the room and chased you down the corridor and you really felt like you were going to win this time.

But that's when the traitor in your underwear sprang back to life. It was so powerful and unexpected that you almost fell to the ground. You tried to run again but it was too good, too much and you stumbled as you reached the door but it was too late. You felt his arms wrap around you and lift you off the floor.

"Gotcha"

🤫

Once he had his hands on you, he wasn't going to let you go.

Before you even made it to the bed he had pulled your panties off and pressed your face into the floor, ass up in the air. "Fuck baby, you all wet for me" he crooned as his fingers delved into your heat. He landed a few slaps you your thighs and ass. "Tell me what you want princess..."

"Daddy please" you whine as you feel his fat cock teasing at your hole before sinking in, the tension of the last half hour melting away. His hand gripped the back of your neck as he fucked you and all you could do was let him claim you as his prize. It was such a heady mix of pleasure and humiliation that you just loved.

"Oh fuck princess, taking me so well. Gonna have such fun with you tonight angel" he growled as he rubbed your pussy, dragging your first orgasm out of you as he came all over your ass with a delicious growl.

You lay panting for a moment before feeling his arms wrap around you and carry you to the bed. You watch as he pulls his shirt off, spreading your legs wide as he moves nearer. You sit up and he brushes your hair out of your face, leaning down to kiss you as your hands drift over his broad, hairy chest.

"God I love you princess" he growls, letting his fingers drift over your skin, squeezing here and there, as your hands wrap around his neck. "Love you too Daddy" you whisper as he pushes you back to spread you out.

"Look at that, all for me" he whispers as he strokes his cock. A little whine leaves your lips and you spread yourself wider as he crawls over your body.

"Are you sure I didn't win Daddy" you pry as his hands manoeuvre your thighs, cock rubbing against your heat, making a mess of your both.

"No baby you didn't, not even close. But by the time I'm finished with ya, you won't even remember any of that ok?"

You started to argue but he thrust into you and you couldn't think of what to say anymore...

🤫

"Don't feel bad little princess" Bucky mutters hours later as he slides his cock into your messy, puffy heat. You whine at the sensitivity and the feeling of his cum being pushed out of you.

"You were made for this Babygirl, you're not supposed to be in charge..." He leans down at captures your lips in a kiss before leaning back up and pinching at your swollen nipples.

You can only whine as the sensations rip through your body. "I know princess, I know. Feels good huh? You look so pretty yknow?"

He fucks harder, making your eyes roll and your legs squeeze together. He just tuts and pushes your legs apart, rolling his hips to hit you deeper and longer.

"S'too much" you whine as your hands move to your raw heat. Leaning forward again he takes your face in his hand, meeting your eyes. "You want daddy to stop? You had enough Babygirl?"

You shake your head and he chuckles. "Well don't hide that pretty pussy from me then ok? I wanna see what a mess we've made together huh?" You moan as he pushes your thighs backwards and adjusts his hips to fuck you deeper and harder.

"Such a good girl" he grunts as your hands fall to the side and you let him take what he wants as you float into a state of bliss. "There you go, you floating baby?"

You let out a little whine, focused solely on his cock splitting you in half and his fingers locking into yours.

"Just one more princess, or maybe a couple more, just relax... Daddy's gotcha..."

[junicult]

!! the bachelors as fathers

contains ; sfw! sooo much fluff. fem!farmer. unnamed child. established relationships — marriage. your child is implied to be around kindergarten age. men that are good w kids hehehe. not proofread / slightly rushed in some parts. i’ll edit it later LOL.

note ; i get asks on this topic at least twice a week. i’m finally caving. here’s my birthday gift to you <3

harvey.

- he was honestly made to be a father.

- despite his taller stature, there was something about him that felt so comforting.

- if a child had walked up to him all alone, sobbing with snot down their nose, he didn’t hesitate to kneel and help them find their parent.

- soothing them, grabbing their hand and asking questions to calm them down.

- no, it wasn’t a daily occurrence but it’s definitely happened to him a couple times. and each and every time he was able to help them relax, and easily reunited them with whomever their guardian was.

- he’s good with kids. always has been.

- he probably even had a babysitting job every now and then when he was younger.

- there’s was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to have his own when he grew up. and when you just so happened to stumble into his life, marrying him with the same ideals…well.

- you obviously knew he wanted kids before you got married.

- and when you realized you wanted him to be the father of your child; was another one of those instances where you got to see just how good he was with them.

- hearing how sweet he’s always been to vincent during his doctor visits, especially when the boy was younger.

- he’s a girl dad. say what you will, but he is.

- he’ll sit at the unbelievably tiny table, cramped in the tiny chair with his knees up to his chest while he tips back the empty teacup and his pinky in the air.

- he’ll even wear the tiara.

- zero complaints.

- you and his daughter would literally be the most important things in the entire world to him. he’d do anything for you two.

- like…ugh. oh my god.

- sometimes you’d come home late, and you’d walk down the hall to hear his gentle voice animatedly in your daughters dark bedroom.

- and you’d peek in, and there he was sitting at the end of her bed, quietly reading while she sleepily listens all tucked in.

- or even times when you’d wake up in the middle of the night to an empty bed, confused.

- so you’d walk out to go find him, having no clue where the hell he was so you check your daughters bedroom,

- and well, there he is. long ass limbs tucked and haphazardly strewn about to make room for your daughter who lays next to him sleeping peacefully in her toddler bed.

- he’s not asleep (obviously), but he lays with his eyes closed until you gently creak the floorboard.

- “she had a nightmare.” is all he says, and it’s enough to make you smile.

- even though he’s already so health conscious…it only grows after you have a child.

- “did you brush your teeth? make sure to get the gums.” “a balanced breakfast is the perfect way to start the day!” he sounds like a elementary classroom poster.

- the minute someone in the house sniffles…he’s checking everyone’s temperature.

- during the winter, he’s at the door wrapping your daughter in multiple puffy coats, scarves, earmuffs, gloves, before letting her step outside.

- you’re not off the hook either, but you never bundle up the way he wishes you would.

- “why doesn’t mommy have to wear this?” she pouts while he’s helping her in her thick boots.

- “why don’t you ask her that?😊” (he’s instigating.)

- i’m telling you, girl dad.

sam.

- his own kids weren’t on his radar when you guys first started dating.

- but he’s always liked them. especially when vincent was born.

- he was that lowkey irresponsible but very responsible older brother.

- like, he’d be in his teens telling his very impressionable younger brother to say bad words and then would act shocked when he got in trouble for saying them.

- but when it came to being the oldest man in the house while their dad was away, he really showed maturity in helping jodi and being there for them.

- and while you both established a committed relationship, that one day you’d want to be married and have kids—he idealized it a bit more.

- but then again, it was still one of those things you both needed to really think and talk about before you even acted on it, especially since you got married young.

- lol i feel like jodi or marnie forced u guys to watch jas and vincent for a weekend once.

- and after how well it went, that was kinda when it clicked that you guys were ready.

- he’s both a girl dad and a boy dad.

- he’d literally jump for joy for either outcomes. he was just excited to finally be a dad after years of daydreaming of it.

- as much as i don’t wanna say it, i still feel like he’d be much better at the fun stuff then the parenting stuff.

- i just think it’s bc he thinks with his heart more then his head, and when his child is sad and pouting, he’s too sympathetic to hold his ground.

- he wouldn’t leave it all for you to do, but he’d definitely be worse at scolding if you aren’t by his side.

- like, she colored all over the walls or something. his initial reaction would be to freak out and find a way to clean it before you’d find out (he doesn’t wanna add more work to your busy day), but then he’d scold.

- “no, don’t do that. wall, bad. paper, good. understand? nod if you understand,” …well he’s trying.

- then you’d come home to see him scrubbing the walls while your child blissfully doodles in her coloring book on the floor beside him.

- if he had a son, he’d have a little bit of practice from those few years where he babysat vince.

- lol, there’s a lot of features your son would inherit between the two of you.

- but personality wise…your son is definitely a mini-sam.

- and imagine one day, it’s the early stages of spring so sam’s typical allergies start to act up.

- you’ve always known how to handle him when he gets really sick. but picture your red-nosed, leaky-eyed husband standing behind you while you rummage through the medicine cabinet,

- and all of a sudden you hear a familiar sniffle from down the hall.

- you just freeze, slowly turning to face sam who’s making the same face that you are. until he starts to laugh.

- yeah. so now here you are, both of your boys snuggled in bed with the same sickly look, mumbling about how grateful they are that you’re there to care for them.

- and here’s the thing. if your son is sam’s mini-me…then i can assure you you’re stuck with two of the clingiest boys by your side.

shane.

- he never really thought he’d get a loving, happy family of his own.

- but he definitely daydreamed of it in times when he really just wanted an escape.

- he was always the best with jas.

- he doesn’t necessarily treat her like his daughter. but it’s not like she gives him any reason to.

- he doesn’t treat her like a child, per say. just kind of like another person. probably bc of their trauma bond lol

- he cares for her like an older brother cares for his little sister.

- so even though he has jas in his life, someone he cares for so strongly, he still doesn’t think of himself as being a good father.

- when he met you though, and you were so reassuring and sweet, that thought definitely changed.

- it went from him seeing a life alone, to pondering a family of his own.

- when he finally had the motivation to clean himself up, it approached a couple years since he’s been sober and it was definitely in the forefront of his mind to start a family with you.

- i also think of him as a girl dad. i can’t picture him as a boy dad at all not even gonna lie 😭

- like he’d be the kind of dad that would dress as the supporting character in your daughter’s favorite movie for halloween (spirits eve wtvr)

- also the kind of dad that’d join in on tea parties as well, just with the most plain look on his face despite him not minding being there.

- also…let me tell you there would be a whole inside joke swear jar thing in ur house.

- when your daughter was old enough to decipher what words were “good” and “bad,” the swear jar became very important.

- i think it started when you were pregnant.

- “ah fuck, i think i cooked this wrong. damnit.” he’d mumble.

- “we should probably stop saying those before the baby comes.” you hum, and he looks at you all confused.

- “saying what?” bc they’re in his daily vocabulary to the point where he forgets they’re “inappropriate.”

- so there came the swear jar. and every now and then it’d be a little inside joke when he swore, you’d look at him like, “drop a dollar in the jar😁”

- and when you’d say one, he was so petty matching your exact tone and smile.

- your daughter just grew up with it. it became an even bigger inside joke when you were all sitting at the kitchen table one night, he leans in to take a bite of food and, “shit! that’s hot.”

- before you even said anything your daughter smiles exactly like you would, “that’s a dollar in the swear jar, daddy.”

- ur both STUNNED. and also very proud in a sense.

- you just burst out laughing while he tries to think of a counter, but really, he’s too amused to even say anything back (thus drops a dollar in the jar!)

- 😓😓he’d be the sweetest when it came to his daughter all sad about something.

- no matter what it was. even if she as much as scrapes her knee, he would be so affectionate.

- he’s not the “walk it off” kind of dad.

- if she came to him sobbing, he’d immediately calm her down by picking her up and propping her on the couch, searching for the stuff you use for wounds in the cabinets.

- “it’s okay, you’re okay. it was just a little scrape, you won’t even feel it tomorrow.”

- and he’s wiping her tears, pressing a kiss to her forehead before going into the freezer and getting her ice cream (before dinner😨) saying, “don’t tell mommy, okay?”

- although you try finish up work early enough to tuck your daughter in bed, sometimes you end up running late.

- so uh…shane sometimes forgets to put her to bed, and of course she’s not gonna say anything!!! bedtime is a child’s worst nightmare!

- and usually when that happens, you’d end up coming home to the sight of the two of them, knocked out sharing the same blanket on the couch, cuddled up together while the tv’s still on.

- and when that happens, well, you find it a little hard to take that sight away.

sebastian.

- girl dad. sorry i just had to start with it.

- maybe i could see him with a son, but honestly…no i can’t.

- but i’m not gonna lie to you,

- for a while i feel like he didn’t want kids. not really at least.

- he’d think about them and it was always a nice idea, until he really thought about it and all the mess that babies come with lol.

- plus at the point in his life when you two met, he just wasn’t ready. for a while at least.

- when you talked about it, the topic of children was only on the table. you knew you wanted them, just not yet.

- it took a good handful of years before you actively started trying.

- even though he was prepared during your pregnancy, i feel like it didn’t hit him he was a father until after ur baby was born.

- he fell in love. swear.

- like…that tiny, wrinkly little lump was his. he helped make that. and not only was it his but it was also the woman he loves’.

- it took him a while to get into the system of it all when it came to caring for the baby. i’m talking changing diapers, feeding, burping, things like that.

- but when he was left alone with her, he was kinda in his own little world. he could hold her all day and never get tired.

- and that was a concept so crazy to him bc he didn’t get that kind of love from a father growing up.

- which is exactly why i feel like he’d actually be such a great dad.

- he could be stern when he needed to be, but never strict.

- “eat your greens,” kinda dad LMAO. especially if you were the one to make them.

- when she’d come up to him with the messiest doodle of your little family on a piece of paper, he’d think of it as a masterpiece.

- he’s not very expressive tho LOL like he’d look at the drawing and only smile, a little “thank you,” in a sweet tone.

- that’s just how he is lol. on the inside he’s sobbing.

- it would always end up on the fridge.

- he spends a lot of time at home.

- which results in a lot of time he spends with your daughter, even while he’s doing his own thing on his computer working.

- but nearly every day he was greeted with a, “daddy, can we go somewhere? what’s mommy doing?” and depending on where you were, he’d help get her shoes on and take her out on a walk to go find you.

- she got her outdoorsy side from you, that’s for sure. but because she needs a guardian, he’s gotten much more used to being outside.

- it was often you’d be working on your crops outside, wiping sweat from your forehead & turn around to your daughter eagerly wanting to help.

- now, this is not to say that your relationship w sebastian was poor before you had your daughter, i’m not saying that at all,

- but because of her adventurous personality, and clinginess to the both of you—your bond grew even more.

- “she wanted to see you.” he’d sheepishly smile, leaning to press a kiss to your forehead while you both turn and watch her feed the chickens.

- “didn’t you have that website to finish?”

- “…okay i wanted to see you too.”

alex.

- absolutely wanted a family. holy shit there’s zero doubt in my mind.

- he’s kinda wanted a more traditional household, probably based on the ideals he grew up with.

- but he absolutely didn’t mind you being the breadwinner. he honestly enjoyed it much more.

- he’d spend hours daydreaming about living on the farm with you. carrying one child on his shoulders and holding the other’s hand while guiding them around the town’s fair.

- and lowkey, i feel like one of his favorite topics of conversation was discussing how your children would be raised lol

- talking in bed at night like, “i think our son would be a gridball fan. maybe even grow up to be a player himself.” while he sighs longingly.

- which also ties into me believe he’s a boy dad. you know he is.

- i definitely feel like he’d have a boy and a girl. it’s his dream.

- he’d be fine with two boys or two girls but when he daydreamed about his future, it was always you, your son & your daughter.

- it’s just once again the traditional picture of a household and even though i don’t really think he’s that old fashioned after he met you, i still believe he’d want 2 kids.

- he would seriously daydream it all the time. the months of your pregnancy, when you found out it was a boy he really saw his future fitting like a puzzle piece.

- after a couple years, your son (who may i add was literally his mini-me) got a bit older, you both discussed it was time for another.

- and when you found out it was a girl…god. i definitely think he cried, disagree all you want.

- he’s such a caring dad. i believe he wants the best for his children, and he knows what it was like to be neglected so i can never imagine him being like that.

- first of all, you already know every single day of the summer he’s bringing them down to the beach.

- packing a bag, (that takes him halfway through the day before he realized he forgot towels) propping up beach chairs & an umbrella for shade.

- he’s never opposed to a good sand castle. especially when he remembers to bring the little molds that help with the foundation.

- kneels in the shallow end, standing close to his kids when they want to swim.

- and he’s always a fan of recapping it with you at the end of the day.

- “tell mommy what you found at the beach,” he ushers, bouncing your daughter on his hip while your son eagerly begins.

- i feel like after having children, not only is he a good dad, but he becomes an even better husband to you.

- he just loves how hard you work for him and your family, so you can bet on mother’s day, or your birthday, he’ll be all about making it special for you.

- all of them wake up earlier then you, making breakfast (well, watching him make breakfast) before they put it all on a plate and deliver it to you in bed.

- ur the kind of parents that other parents are jealous of, y’know?

- he’s just so in love with you, and the kids you made. it makes him love you even more.

elliott.

- he’s always wanted kids. he would find himself daydreaming, even when he was in his early twenties, about one day raising a child with the person he loves.

- when he met you was the start of his writing career.

- at that point, it was a little underwhelming, which was the perfect opportunity to get start a relationship with you.

- you were both fairly busy, but the thing about his job was he could lounge in your cottage while you were off working,

- and when you were able to spare a few minutes, you could stop in and see him.

- while your relationship progressed, you began the discussion of getting married and having children one day.

- it just so happened to be right when his career was taking off when you finally settled into your lives together.

- which postponed trying for a little while, but eventually you were able to.

- lol, i’m gonna say it;

- without a DOUBT a girl dad.

- oh my god he would daydream of having a little you running around, tuft red hair with your sweet smile.

- and with how melodramatic he is, imagine that projected onto your daughter LMAO.

- if you couldn’t find him in his typical writing room sometimes, all u had to do was walk to your daughters room where he propped up his own little desk.

- just so he could be near her.

- he also is just entranced at all times, he loves holding her, just looking at her.

- he’s extremely helpful.

- for the most part, he was always immediate to react if your newborn needed something. the second she’s cry, he was up on his feet telling you to stay put.

- he’s just very understanding with how busy you are, and he never minded spending more time with his daughter.

- if it was the middle of the night, and she needed something, he’d always shake his head to you pushing off your blankets, whispering, “i got it, my love. go back to sleep, i’m sure she’s fine.”

- especially on days where he knows you’re particularly stressed, he’s not letting you lift a finger.

- anyways, it carried on when your daughter got older, too.

- she’d walk in all, “mommy, i threw up,” & he was on his feet to help before you even registered what happened.

- he’s just always been fantastic help.

- one of his favorite things to do is read to her.

- similar to harvey, except ten times more.

- he’s acting out each part, using different voices for different characters, making a grand show of it all just to hear his daughter giggle.

- it’s become a habit every night, and since you’re typically busy most evenings, it’s often you’ll come in to find him mid-storytelling.

- even if you intend on reading to her, you always end up stopping to let him finish. he’s so entertaining with it that even you’re interested in this plot line for 2 year olds.

- he’ll never skip this routine.

- and when he kisses her goodnight, he tucks her in, pushes her hair from her forehead and bends down to plant a soft kiss.

- “goodnight, sweetheart. sweet dreams.” he always says.

- he’s gentle with you, he’s even gentler with her.

[dearestaussiechannie]

♡ Giggle Box ♡ — Bang Chan

word count: 1.3k paring: Chan x reader genre: fluff warnings: gender not specified!reader, established relationship, mentions other members, heavy fluff, comfort, if I left anything out lmk Authors note: This was inspired by a tweet that I saw that said "the most devastating thing about being a Chan stan is living with the knowledge that he probably giggles into kisses." and I took that PERSONALLY. So, from one Chan stan to another, stay strong.

You'd been out with your boyfriend and his friends all day so there wasn't really much of a chance for you and Chan to be “intimate”. The most physical contact the two of you had shared throughout the day was mostly side hugs, laying his head on your shoulder, brushing his hand against yours or just simple things like wiping something off of his face. It was starting to drive you absolutely insane. No Chan kisses? All day? Were you suddenly placed in jail?

Currently, you're all at lunch. Some random place that Felix had picked out that he saw while he was out alone the other day. Everyone was talking with Minho and Han bickering about something, Seungmin and I.N trying to figure out when they wanted to eat, Felix was showing Changbin the new things he'd gotten on Genshin, which just left you and Chan in what felt like your own little world.

You were looking over the menu, humming softly to yourself when you felt something brush against your leg. Looking down, you could see his leg pressed against yours and his fingers gently playing with the strings in the holes of your ripped pants. Since you didn't think much of it, you slowly shifted your attention back to the menu. Once you do though, you miss the sight of him starting to pout.

Some time has now gone by, all of the boys around you now much quieter than before as they were eating. Some still held conversations, the topic had shifted to the food, occasionally feeding your opinion in as well. Chan on the other hand, he's being extremely quiet. You try your best to include him in the conversation but he would just look at you, agree to whatever you had said before going back to his food. While doing this though, his fingers kept playing with the strings.

Once lunch was over and everyone was safely back to the dorms, everyone decided to part ways for a little while and get some work done or do whatever they wanted. This meant you were finally alone with Chan but he also wanted to get some work done so he buried himself into his laptop. You really did admire him for his dedication to his music, if there was a track that needed anything done, he was the first person to try to fix it. Constant late nights of him making an entire beat from scratch just for him to have lyrics ready the next day was amazing.

This time however, his attention wasn't fully there. The sounds of his fingers against the keys of his laptop, small sounds escaping his headphones when he would adjust them or the chair creaking as he swiveled in it were filling the room as you laid on his bed, humming softly to yourself. You looked away from your phone for a moment to check on him, shocked when your eyes were met by his, only for him to look away as soon as you'd caught him. Deciding to brush it off, you walk over and put a fresh bottle of water on his desk, kissing his cheek. 

Once you're turned to walk back over to his bed, you hear a small giggle. The way a simple sound can make a smile creep onto your face is astonishing. Crawling back into the bed, you look in his direction only to be met by those big brown eyes again just from them to rip away. “Channie? Is everything alright?” You ask him, a little concerned since he wasn’t focused like he usually would be, but a simple nod is all you get as a response.

An hour has now passed and you are currently sitting beside him at his desk as you read over the lyrics that he's written since he'd asked you to look over them and see if there is any better wording way that could flow smoother. When he needs help with this, you're usually the first person he asks so that he doesn't have to bother Minho or Han. His head was currently resting against your shoulder, taking in deep breaths as if he were trying to inhale you. “You could change this, I think it might flow smoother.” you tell him, using the pink pen he always gives you when he needs your help so that he can differentiate who wrote what better when he's letting others read over it as well.

You go through and put small hearts by certain parts that you think are good and he shouldn't change, making him giggle again when he pulls away to look at his notebook. There's that sound again, the one that makes all of the butterflies on earth suddenly race into your stomach. You look over at him, seeing a smile on his face and his fingers tracing over the little hearts you've drawn for him before suddenly kissing his cheek. There it is again, you can't help your next movements, wanting to hear more. Quickly, you turn his chair to face you, looking over his face for a moment before you start pressing your lips all over his face. Not a spot left untouched less than once, you kiss both his cheeks, the tip and bridge of his nose, his forehead, temples and chin, repeating over and over as his giggle turns into a full laugh. Now, you can't help but laugh with him, holding tightly onto his shoulders.

“You're so cute I swear I could just eat you up! Your rosy cheeks, your nose, your soft lips, your head where that big brain of yours calls home.. All of it. You're so handsome it kills me!” You say to him, hand clutching your chest while watching as his cheeks turn from a soft rose color to a shade of red. His hands quickly try to hide his face, but you're faster. Your hands land on his and bring them into yours, locking your fingers as you keep kissing his face, leaving out his lips on purpose.

This goes on for a few minutes until you're both laughing so hard your stomachs hurt. You both calm down for a moment before he's looking at you with a pout, hands holding onto yours tightly. “You um.. said my lips but you haven't kissed them once since we've been home…” His words come out as a whisper, unsure if he wanted you to hear them. This makes you lean closer to him, looking him in the eyes before glancing down at his lips.

“Oh.. you mean the soft pink ones in front of me right now?” Your question making him nervous for some reason, as if he's never kissed you before even though you have over a hundred times by now. All he can answer you with is a nod before you lean in and gently kiss him hearing him giggle, “I” another kiss and giggle, “Love” another, “you” another “SO much!” you say giving him a final kiss. He looks at you, eyes squinted from how big he's smiling before pulling you into a tight hug, feeling so lucky to have someone like you by his side. 

“You know, I never realized how much I like hearing you giggle when I kiss you until now.” You say to him, drawing small circles over his knuckles, pressing your forehead against his softly. “I didn't know I did it until now, honestly.. You just make me so.. giddy..” He responds before pulling you closer to him. This makes your heart beat faster, hands resting against his chest, moving your forehead away from his so that you can look over his face with a smile. This man will forever be your giggle box and you couldn't be happier.

©️ dearestaussiechannie, all rights reserved.

Taglist: (to be added, comment or message me♡)

[hyunluvbug]

show me how to love | three - why won’t you love me?

pairing: hyunjin x afab reader

content: some angst :D

a/n: longer chapter, hope you enjoy :)

Sunrays creep in through the bedroom curtains, casting shadows to every corner of the room. Her head races with thoughts of confusion. She only remembers small fragments of what the night before had brought her. She pushes the covers away and places her feet onto the cold wood floor. The sounds of the floor creaking and plates clinking together filled the air. 

She stretches out her arms and stands up to slide on some fuzzy socks. Her warm hand touches her head and she begins to remember how unsober she was yesterday. She opens her bedroom door with a soft creak. A low yawn leaves her lips as she stares at the single pillow and blanket on her couch. Hyunjin stands in the kitchen, his back faces her while he uses the spatula to flip over an omelet. The smells of egg, bacon and cheese fills up her apartment and her stomach rumbles. She pulls out a stool at the kitchen island and sits down. 

“How do you feel?”

“Like I have been run over several times.” 

Hyunjin lets out a low chuckle which causes her to glare at him. He turns the knob on the oven and the sizzling subsides. 

“Any plans for today?” She suddenly asks him, he picks up a plate and places the omelet on its surface. He slides the plate over to her and her mouth practically drools from the smell. 

“Probably heading out after this. Going to meet another groupie.” He teases and moves his eyebrows. 

She stays silent, she messes with the edge of the omelet with her fork. Even though it was a joke, it made her feel uneasy just a bit.

“Okay.” She mumbles. 

Hyunjin sits down beside her and begins to eat his omelet silently beside her. She continues to pick at her food, not feeling hungry any more. 

Hyunjin places a hand onto her bare thigh, spinning her chair towards him softly. She feels tingles everywhere from the touch. “Hey, you have to eat Y/n.” He places his own fork down and picks up hers. 

He cuts a piece of the omelet with his knife and places the fork in front of her mouth. “Open.” 

She can’t help but get a little flustered at his demand, god her mind is in the gutter. She opens her mouth and he puts the fork inside. 

“Good girl.” 

She almost chokes on the omelet from his word choice. He sure makes it hard not to be in love with him. She takes the fork from him and insists on feeding herself now. How the hell is she supposed to get over him when he does shit like this. 

She finishes up her omelet and he finishes his. Hyunjin rinses both of their dishes off and  places both of them in the dishwasher. 

“I am off now.” Hyunjin says, running his hand through his black hair. 

“Thanks again Jin. I appreciate it.” 

“Anything for you.” He smirks and she rolls her eyes. 

She holds the door open for him, “Text me later?” 

She looks at him. His eyes are scanning her body, noticing how her pajama shorts hug her hips. Her legs are out on full display in front of him. She is embarrassed from his gaze.

“Uh yeah! See you later!” He smiles, making his eyes squint up. Her favorite smile to see on his face. 

She gives him a wave and he heads out. She shuts the door behind him letting her back rest against the door. She lets out a deep sigh, letting all the nerves leave her body. From this day forward, she vowed to herself that she would get over Hyunjin. Her crush on him brings her nothing but pain and false hope. She has to remind herself that Hyunjin’s  flirtatious behavior was only on a friendship level. He doesn’t want commitment, he doesn't want to be in love. Love is something she always dreamed of having. But, Hyunjin was the only guy she ever wanted to love. The feeling of wanting someone who didn’t want that at all was agonizing and she could not force him. She had to move on someday. 

But, how could anyone not fall in love with Hyunjin? Hyunjin is the most beautiful man she has ever met and laid eyes on. She is lucky to even have him as her friend. She is grateful for his comfort and presence he would give her. She just wishes it could be different someday. Maybe one day he won’t move his hands away, one day he will hold eye contact. Just maybe. 

—--------------------------------

How did Han convince her to go to another party? She honestly wasn’t quite sure. But, her main drive of the night was to forget about Hyunjin. Maybe find someone else to have a crush on. So now here she is again, another drink in hand and dancing with Han. He was hooping and hollering as her body moved next to his. Her face was warm from all the drinking she had already partaken in. A few of their other friends were scattered amongst the crowd. Some of them are stealing glances their way and laughing at the sight. She wasn’t the best dancer but she’s too drunk to even care. Her heart is beating like crazy and she had never felt more alive than in this moment. 

She closes her eyes and spins around amongst the crowd, her body crashes into a strong build. An arm catches her waist and she opens her eyes, it’s Yeonjun. Yeonjun is another one of Han’s friends and also the host of the party. 

“Hey Y/n.” He lets out a small chuckle. He removes his arm and she stands up straight. 

“Sorry, I was just caught up in the moment.” She said shyly and he smiles down at her. 

“It’s okay. No worries.” 

They both stand together, everyone else dancing around them. She licks her lips and puts her cup to her lips. She takes a big swig of the liquor feeling it trickle down her throat. 

“Having a good time?” He asked, gesturing to the now empty cup in her hand. 

“Very.” 

“That’s good.” 

Her eyes cast away from him, taking in all of them people dancing around them. Her knees begin to wobble just a tiny bit. Her eyes land in a corner of the room where Hyunjin is holed up yet again. A different girl is kissing all over his neck, his arms lazily around her waist. She darts her eyes away already feeling sadness creep up. 

“Hey Yeonjun.”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna makeout?” 

Yeonjun’s eyes widen, she looks at him, not a single sense of a joke coming from her. 

“Uh- sure.” 

That is how they both now ended up sitting off to the side. She sits on his lap while his plump lips tug on her lips. Her lips smack sloppily against his, she couldn't deny it, he was a great kisser. He lays his hands on her waist, she grabs them and places them on the back of her ass. He moans into her mouth once she pushes her tongue into his. The kisses grow even more sloppy the longer they kiss. She pulls away for a second to catch her breath. Yeonjun’s eyes are glossed over and his lips are redder than ever.

“You’re so pretty Y/n.” 

She smiles at him and places her lips back on his. This was the best distraction she could have ever thought of.  

Meanwhile, nearby Hyunjin still sits. The girl in his lap was kissing up his neck. His eyes land on Yeonjun and Y/n. He feels something in his chest as he watches them makeout messily. 

“Stop.” Hyunjin mumbles but the girl continues. 

“I said stop.” He raises his voice a little louder. The girl scrambles away from him. 

She gets off of him and pulls down her skirt. He stands up and keeps his eyes on them. He watches as Yeonjun moves her onto his thigh, now letting her move a bit. She throws her head back and Hyunjin feels furious. 

“Y/n.” 

Y/n hums as she hears her name. But then she realizes it didn’t come from Yeonjun. 

She stops moving on his thigh and turns her head to see Hyunjin. “Oh Jin hey.” She smiles smugly. Hyunjin looks at her face, she looks fucked out. The sight gives him a sensation. 

“Is he bothering you?” Hyunjin has his hands in fists  by his side. 

“Does it look like it?” She asks, wrapping her arms around Yeonjun’s neck. Yeonjun smirks underneath her, enjoying the feeling. Yeonjun begins to kiss on her neck, making her look back at him. 

Hyunjin sighs loudly and grows more angry at the sight. 

“Alright! That’s enough.” Hyunjin gently takes her off Yeonjun’s lap. 

“Hyunjin! What the hell!” 

“Y/n let’s go!” He grabs her wrist and tugs her into the opposite direction. 

Yeonjun sits dumbfounded as he leads her away. Hyunjin keeps walking, his hand circles around her wrist. He leads her through many people until they are outside. He finally lets go and she glares at him. 

“Now why did you do that?” She crosses her arms over her chest. Hyunjin just stares at her, still feeling angry. He looks at her face, how worked up she looks. He can’t deny how hot she looks right now but he can’t focus on that right now. 

“I didn’t want you to make a mistake.” 

“And what mistake is that?”

“Having sex with random people.” 

“Yeonjun isn’t random. I know him.” They both stand there for a moment looking at each other. The cool air blows on her cheeks, she begins to realize just how worked up Yeonjun made her. 

“How many of the groupies do you know personally anyways?” She mumbles under her breath. 

“Y/n, that’s not fair!” Hyunjin yells back at her. She stands there dumbfounded. 

“What’s not fair is how you’re treating me! What the fuck do you expect me to do Hyunjin?” Hot tears begin to well in her eyes, Hyunjin takes notice. His eyes soften as she begins crying, tears streaming down her face. Slowly collecting down into her shirt. 

“Do you know how much you hurt me Hyunjin?” She cries out, her hands shoot up to her face trying to wipe away all the tears. It’s no use as they continue to fall even more gradually. Hyunjin steps closer to reach out to her but she steps back. 

“I really don’t understand you. I don’t understand. Why is it okay for you to have sex with random people but I can’t? What is the fucking difference? I am so sick and tired of this Hyunjin. I just wanted a moment to get over you! To finally not worry about what you’re doing and with who. Is that something so bad to do?”

Hyunjin stands there, his head looking down at his feet. He wishes he could hug her right now and tell her it’s okay. But he can’t. 

 “Why wont you love me?” 

“Of course I love you.” 

“Hyunjin, that's not what I mean.” 

He looks up, her eyes are still filled with tears. He doesn’t know what to even tell her. He doesn’t know how to handle love. He doesn’t want to hurt her. It’s breaking him inside to even look at her right now. His heart is aching and he is sure hers is too. 

 “I love you Hyunjin and it hurts like absolute hell. I don’t know what the fuck I am supposed to do anymore.” She lets out a laugh. 

Hyunjin’s hands are in fists at his sides. His fingers dig into his palm to keep him from crying. He wants to tell her he loves her too but he is absolutely terrified. The only thing he knows how to do is leave. That is exactly what he decides to do. 

“Han can take you home.” He mumbles looking down at the sidewalk beneath him.

“What-”

“Just go home. Please.” 

He turns around and walks away. She watches him as he keeps walking, not turning back.

[weyirn]

Hello!! Hope you’re doing well :)) If you could, could I please ask for a marvel men x male reader where the reader is a pianist and has really pretty hands, and when he’s practicing at home, his brain is just switched off and is only looking at the piano until someone makes a sound, and gets super flustered? It’s sorta like a scenario+headcanon now so sorry :,) thanks if you can and please take your time :))

Hi!! Thank you, I hope you're doing as well!! I hope I did this request right-

Marvel Men x Male!Reader

Pianist Boyfriend Scenarios

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

☆Steve leans against the door frame, watching you play, not wanting to interrupt you. When you stop and stare at the piano keys, he says, "need bit of a break from playing?"

You stiff up from hearing his voice, hoping that he didn't see you just stare off into space for a couple of minutes...But you soon relax, remembering that Steve wouldn't judge you. The thought doesn't stop you from getting all flustered, though.

"I...probably," you mumble. Your brain had suddenly switched off, and you couldn't think of anything else to play.

"Hey," his voice is soft, "it's alright to take a break. You played very well. You've earned it," he said with a chuckle.

❄️Bucky wondered why you stopped playing... He looks at you in worry and steps forward, making you jump a little in the process.

"It's okay, it's just me," Bucky softly reassures you, trying to comfort you, noticing how flustered you are. He's more focused on comforting you and making you feel more comfortable more than anything else.

💲As soon as you stopped playing, Tony slowly clapped his hands, making you jump a little. "Looks like you need an audience," he teases.

He grabs the nearest chair and takes a seat. "Go on. Play some more for me."

🕸Peter stared in awe as he watched you play, only to stop and blink when you stopped playing. Maybe Y/N needs some time to think about what to play next? He thought.

He tries to silently leave, only to reiceve a loud creak from the floor boards in return. You turn around, only to see Peter, his cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. It seems he's just as flustered as you are.

"Uh...I was-I wasn't trying to spy on you or anything!" He stutters, trying to explain himself. "I just happened to hear you play and it sounded...nice."

"T-thank you," you say, your eyes wandering back to the piano keys.

"I-I play piano too, actually," Peter shyly smiles. "Would you.. like to play together?"

Sam waited until your fingers were off the piano keys, and you were stuck staring at them. "You take requests?" He asked, smirking.

"Huh?" You questioned.

"If you happen to take any requests, I have a couple of songs for you to play..."

🐜You weren't staring at the piano keys for very long, since Scott is pretty...loud and clumsy. He was impressed by your talent of playing the piano, but he didn't mean to interrupt like this, even if you stopped playing for just a bit.

"Sorry to interrupt!" He apologizes, getting ready to walk away, "u-uh, keep doing whatever you were doing, I'll just...get some things cleaned up for you..."

💚 Bruce loves hearing you play piano. He wondered why you suddenly stopped and states blankly at the piano keys. He figured that you just ran out of ideas for the day.

"All burnt out?" He asked. "It's alright, I know how it feels," he reassures you.

You let out a shaky sigh. "I guess I am..."

⚡️Thor's smile faded into a frown when you stopped playing. You heard him shuffle a bit, and as soon we turn your head, Thor is next to you, his hand on top of yours. "Please, do not stop, my love. You play beautifully."

🐍You might have been staring at the piano keys for a long time, because Loki is very silent; he was standing there the whole time, wondering if rather or not you were thinking or just staring off into space...

Regardless, he coughs, causing you to whip your head around and look at him. He smiles at how flustered he's made you as he steps forward. "Do you...perhaps need some inspiration?"

🖤It's difficult to ignore the quiet bickering from behind you. Apparently, Venom wouldn't stop whispering in his ear while Eddie was trying to hear you play. They were so engaged in their argument that they didn't even notice that you were staring at them, all flustered.

It wasn't until Venom told him that you were staring at them, and Eddie felt a little bothered by how he thought he interrupted you.

"We were just..." Eddie began, his gaze switching back and forth towards you and Venom. "Just wanted to see you play, that's all."

[try-set-me-on-fire]

hello I am a slut for forehead kisses so may I request that prompt if it inspires? 🥺

I know I said reunion kiss was next but I have conflicting ideas about that one and this popped into my head and google doc nearly fully formed, so here you go. On ao3 here!

By the time Eddie has locked his car and is bolting up the stairs so fast he very nearly trips and eats shit, he’s 23 minutes late.

“Sorry, Cap,” he says, trying not to sound out of breath and discretely tugging wrinkles out of his uniform. “Water main burst near Chris’ school, must have happened after I left the house ‘cause I didn’t get any traffic alerts.”

Bobby snorts. “As your captain I have to say ‘try to be punctual next time,’ but as someone who also lives in Los Angeles… it happens.”

Eddie sighs in agreement and slides onto one of the bar stools. At least it’s not a day where they got called out immediately, he’d feel terrible if he arrived and everyone was already out on the truck. A coffee mug — Eddie’s favorite at the station, a deep speckly green handmade number somebody had found at a farmer’s market — lands next to him, along with a familiar warm presence at his side. He smiles as he looks up at Buck.

“Hello, husband,” Buck says, grin so bright Eddie thinks he might be bioluminescent if they turned off all the lights.

“Hi, husband,” Eddie says, figuring he’d probably glow in the dark, too.

-

Eddie supposes he’s probably had more eventful 72 hour time spans in his life, though he’s hard pressed to remember one where the majority of the events were this good. It’s not like it started fantastic, his shoulder still hurts like hell from landing on it when the factory floor went out from under them, and there were the three horrifying hours where no one could find Buck and it felt like the world was ending. He hadn’t kept his cool very well, he’ll admit it, and he’s fully expecting teasing to set in any time now that they’ve had a few days and Buck is perfectly fine.

They’d found him in a little pocket in the debris two floors down, not a scratch on him. He’d lost his radio, but otherwise he was sort of just waiting around. Legs crossed, hands behind his head, chill as anything. He could have been at the goddamn beach.

And he’d looked at Eddie, a happy little smile on his face, and said “I knew you’d find me,” and Eddie — who’s lungs hadn’t been working right since he’d tried to call Buck on the radio and got silence in return — had kissed him instead of saying I always will.

And when they’d got back to the station he’d gone ahead and said it out loud, too, and I don’t know how to be without you and I love you, I’ve loved you for so long and move in with me and marry me, we should get married, please marry me.

Buck’s knuckles had been almost creaking with how tight they’d been gripping the sleeves of Eddie’s uniform. “Why? I mean- we haven’t- you never- how could you want that? It’s me, I-“ he’d laughed, trying to make it into a joke. “Won’t you get sick of me?”

“I want to share my whole life with you,” Eddie had said, and then laughed a little breathless. “And Buck, I- I think we already do. Your toothbrush is in my bathroom and I have a green lawn chair because you said it looked like a frog and- and you fixed the holes in my wall and you’re raising my son. We share- my house feels most like a home when you’re there. So. You can be there, forever, if you want. You want a couch? I have a couch. You like my couch.”

Buck had laughed, tears in his eyes, kissed him again, and said “I love your couch.”

So Friday evening they’d been sitting on the aforementioned couch as best friends eating pizza and drinking beer, and Sunday morning they’d got married, and had an all day long party in their backyard with people dropping in and out whenever they weren’t at work or had other places to be and Eddie had smiled so big and laughed so hard his cheeks still ache, and Sunday night he’d had sex with a man for the first time. He, Eddie Diaz, had sex with Buck (who’s last name is now sort of a toss up until he decides how he wants to change it, a process that turns out comes with a lot more paperwork and waiting than a marriage license). Not even just sex- Buck fucked him into the mattress so hard Eddie thinks he may have had some sort of religious experience. He came so hard he got a little mad about it after. Like. Is this what it’s supposed to be like? He could have been having sex this good the whole time? Buck had laughed at him, loud but not unkindly.

He’d learned what it’s like to sleep in a bed beside the man that he loves. Buck is warm and his feet are cold and he is delightfully solid and unmovable. He snores, especially when he curls up in his sleep, but Eddie has spent years sleeping in a big shared room in a fire station and years before that falling asleep in a war zone, so it doesn’t bother him. This morning they’d woken up holding hands even though they hadn’t gone to sleep like that, and Eddie is in love, in love, in love.

-

Sometime about halfway through their first shift as a married couple they’re called to a car gone over a cliff in the hills. It’s not gone very far over the cliff, and is resting on stable ground, and the occupant inside seems more shaken up than anything, but someone’s still got to get in a harness, and like usual that person is Buck.

Eddie can feel Chimney smirking off to the side as he triple checks Buck’s harness and line, but this is something Eddie always does and not a new feature of some sort of honeymoon phase. Buck’s life is precious, has been since the beginning, he’d never risk it with something as preventable as an improperly secured strap. Back last year, when Buck had been in the coma, it had been the one thing he’d not felt guilty about. The harness had caught him. Eddie had triple checked it. He always has and he’s not going to stop now.

"Be careful,” he says, darting in to give him the quickest kiss he thinks he can get away with. So, that part is new, sue him.

Buck's eyes get wide, and then he nods very solemnly. "I will," he promises, looking at Eddie for another long minute before he goes over the side.

To his left Bobby lets out a huff of air, and he's making a face and shaking his head when Eddie turns to investigate. Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"It's that easy?" Bobby gestures down the side of the cliff, amused. "I should have had one of you marry him ages ago."

Eddie laughs, and turns back to keep an eye on the line.

-

“We’re going to the roof,” Eddie says, after they’re back at the station. “For fifteen minutes,” he concedes to Bobby’s raised eyebrows. “To engage in strictly pg13 activities,” a final plea.

Bobby sighs, and Hen cackles as he waves a defeated hand at them to go ahead. Eddie hooks his arm through Buck’s and they stumble up the stairs side by side, laughing like they’re getting away with something.

-

They only got twelve minutes before the alarm rang again, and it was non stop after that till the end of the shift. Eddie’s shoulder is almost too stiff to move at this point, and Buck looks dead on his feet.

“You wanna just come home with me?” He asks, leaning on the locker next to Buck’s as he changes.

“Uh…” Buck looks tempted when he emerges from his t-shirt, hair all ruffled, but then he shakes his head. “Nah, we took both cars for a reason, I should go grab stuff from the loft.” The logistics of very suddenly moving in together are still working themselves out. Eddie thinks he could probably push — Buck practically lived with him before, anyway, what could be at the loft that he would miss so terribly it couldn’t wait another night? — but they’d planned their day like this so they could both go on Chris’ beach day field trip tomorrow without having to squeeze packing around it.

“Alright,” he agrees, though he can’t help feeling a little reluctant about it. He hasn’t been apart from Buck for more than an hour since he’d been lost in a pile of rubble, and he doesn’t really want to go separate ways now. He leans in for a kiss, and the way Buck smiles into it might be able to tide him over for just a little while. “I’ll go get the kid. See you at home.”

“Okay. Goodbye, husband,” Buck says, a little sparkle back in his tired eyes.

“Bye, husband,” Eddie laughs, soft, kissing him again.

-

There’s three unpacked boxes pushed to the side of the living room and two others empty by the recycling, contents dispersed around the house. By mutual, exhausted decision they’d agreed to deal with the rest some other time and collapsed into bed. They can’t even really make out properly, one or both of them yawning into it repeatedly until Eddie laughs and rolls onto his back, setting his alarm for the morning and settling more comfortably under the covers.

“Night, Buck,” he breathes, leaning onto his pillow to kiss his cheek. “I love you.”

Buck does the little smile with startled-wide eyes he’s done every time Eddie’s said it so far. “I love you, too. Uh- sweet dreams.”

And that should be that, another happy night of wedded bliss, but the thing that Eddie knows and kind of forgot is that after a long and hectic shift Buck gets a little restless no matter how tired he is, brain running overtime, so after trying to wait out his tossing and turning and yawning Eddie eventually sighs, turns the bedside lamp back on, and pokes him in the side.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Buck frowns at him. "Eddie. What if I die in my sleep?"

He doesn’t think it’s a real question, but it still makes his stomach lurch a little. "Why would you do that?"

Buck makes a face. "I wouldn't mean to."

"I mean- why are you afraid of that?"

Buck frowns harder. “I don’t know. I heard once you yawn because you’re falling asleep and your brain thinks you're dying, so it tries to get you a burst of oxygen to save you.”

“Okay, but- you’re not actually dying.” Eddie reaches a clumsy hand under the covers till it collides with Buck’s chest, where his heart is somewhere inside beating steady. “You’re okay. Just tired.”

Buck nods, but he hasn’t stopped frowning. “What if you die in your sleep?”

Eddie hums, shuffling onto his side to face Buck more fully. “I don’t plan to.”

“Okay,” Buck says, trusting Eddie’s word even in a hypothetical he would in actuality have no control over. “What if Bobby dies? Or- or anybody. What if… a meteor destroys the station and we can’t go to work?”

Eddie snorts, and then feels bad about it until he sees Buck grin a tiny bit. “I think we’d still have jobs, Buck. They’d rebuild the station, we might all just have to work at different houses for a while.” Buck frowns again, and Eddie winces at introducing this new worry. “Hey. If a meteor destroys our station I promise I will beg on hands and knees to get transferred to the same place as you.”

Buck laughs, just a small exhale of air through his nose. “Feel like you might wanna stay upright. They might cite professionalism and all that.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, kissing his cheek. “I will beg on two feet to stay by your side whenever I can, as long as I can.”

“Alright,” Buck says, a little choked. He slings an arm over Eddie’s side and settles in close against him, and Eddie thinks that might be it until he says, very quietly, “What if I’m not a good husband to you?”

“Oh, Buck.” This question is a real question, the one that was hiding behind all the others. “You're doing pretty great so far.”

“It’s been like two days.” Muffled, somewhere around Eddie’s collarbone.

“Yeah, and they’ve been a pretty great two days.” He drags his hand around Buck’s ribs, everything made soft sandwiched by blanket and sleep shirt. “I asked you to marry me because I wanted to be married to you. I wanted- you to be married to me. My husband.”

“Yeah, that’s usually why people ask that question,” Buck mumbles, not, apparently, in the mood to easily accept comfort. “But what if-“

“Are you afraid of me?”

“What?” Buck reels back in surprise to look at him. “No. Of course not.”

“Then why are you scared I’ll change my mind?” Eddie can feel the raised line of a scar on Buck’s back through his shirt. The one from getting tossed from the board the first time he’d gone surfing, Eddie’s pretty sure, years before they met. “I won’t. I’m not going to get tired of you, I’m not going to leave you behind, you’ll never be too much for me. You-“ Eddie takes a breath, tries to get his thoughts in order. “You make my life better by being in it, and that has always been true, and you know we’ve gone through some shit before. Even… even when you were suing the city because you were a lonely little idiot and I was pissed at you because I was a mean little idiot, all I wanted was to be by your side. When I was bleeding out in the street I just wanted to be with you. When you were- when you were dead on that ladder I’d have done anything-“ Eddie exhales, hard. Buck is on his left side, birthmark buried in the pillow, so Eddie has to snake his hand up to tilt his head for access to it. They’ve only been able to kiss each other for a tiny handful of days, but it doesn’t feel new, really, when he presses his lips to the pink blotches of skin. “I don’t know how else to explain it to you, but I will keep trying every day for the rest of our lives, if you’ll let me.”

Buck kisses him, hard, holds him tight. “I- yeah, I-,” another kiss, slower. “As long as I can- I’ll tell you, too, I- I’ve never been anywhere I’ve felt- it’s so easy to be here, in your- in our home.” Buck’s fingers find Eddie’s scars, twin bullet holes, touching them so reverently he thinks the scars might heal right up and vanish. “You make me-“ He kisses Eddie’s cheek, up by his eye, his nose, right between his eyebrows. “I don’t know how to say it. If you try every day, can I try, too?”

“Anytime,” Eddie vows. “Every day, anytime you want.”

“Alright,” Buck says, tail end of the word getting swallowed by another yawn. Eddie kisses his forehead again, or maybe just smiles against it. “I love you, Eddie. So much.”

“So much, too.”

It’s a little bit of a stretch to be able to turn the light off again with Buck still wrapped around him, but he gets it on the second try. He’s not sure how well he’ll be able to fall asleep tangled together like this, but that’s fine. Buck is warm. His feet, where they’re bumped here and there into Eddie’s legs, are cold. They breathe in, and on this inhale are entirely synched. There’s no place he’d rather be.

[thatdesklamp]

One Month Before Suguru Geto's Betrayal, 2007

My final satoru POV oneshot before the next intrinsic warmth update. Five is a nicer number than four, and I really wanted to put some more focus on Geto before I continued with IW canon. (This has been in the drafts for a while but I had a free half hour to clean it up a little and figured it was better posted than not posted. Enjoy!)

“You’re good for him,” Satoru hears you say, through the thin partition of the wall.

Satoru pauses outside the door. He wasn’t expecting to hear you: this is Suguru’s room, and it’s early evening on a Wednesday night, which means Satoru and Suguru are going to boot up a movie on Suguru’s shitty DVD player and watch it until one of them falls asleep. Which will probably be Suguru: he’s always falling asleep, these days.

Satoru has a thriller movie jammed under his arm, because he’s figured that it’s impossible for Suguru to fall asleep to something that’s meant to make you all tense and wired, and it’s the kind of thoughtful thing he thinks Suguru will appreciate.

“You think?” Suguru responds. His voice is quieter, muffled, like he’s facing away from the door.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

It’s you again. Satoru has his fingers on the door handle. They catch there, hesitant.

“Tough luck for him.”

“Geto.”

“What?”

“I’m not joking.”

“Well. Neither am I.”

Satoru’s fingertips slide from the door handle. He is very aware of how loud he is breathing, and how thin the door is. Satoru doesn’t move, wary that the floor will creak, and that you will know him from the sound of his footsteps.

“I’m trying to be nice here,” you say.

“You don’t need to. Just be honest.”

“Then I’m being honest.”

“No, you’re not.”

You let out a sharp sound, a quick exhalation of air. “Come on. This is a compliment. I wouldn’t say it to anyone else.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious—Geto, what’s with you today?” Your voice is pitching up, questioning and quietly teasing. It borders on playful, and Satoru doesn’t know what to make of it. You never act like this with him. “Did you wake up cranky, or something?”

“Probably.”

Satoru doesn’t hear your reply, if you give one. He rests his forehead against the door, trying not to make a sound.

You’re good for him, you had said. You had to be talking about him—who else could you be talking about? You and Geto talk about things other than him, yeah, Satoru gets that. But who else would Suguru be good for?

It’s got to be Satoru. Satoru is Suguru’s best friend. Satoru is the most important person in Suguru’s life, and he knows it. He likes it, being that important to someone who is so important. And it’s not as if Suguru isn’t just as important to him. It’s Suguru. Satoru has never had to think about why he’s so important to him: it’s always been obvious, and accepted, and he’s never needed to justify himself to anyone.

You had said it. Why?

“Would you really not say it to anyone else?” Suguru murmurs.

His voice is quiet, so quiet Satoru can barely hear him. The low scratch of his voice is familiar, from all those times Satoru would sneak into his room after curfew, when they’d stay up and talk about any of their wild ideas until the sun made them squint and blink. Satoru would steal the bed, but Suguru never minded; he would sit splayed on the room’s desk chair, or lie down on the floor and look up at the same ceiling as Satoru, or he’d go cross-legged at the foot of the bed, pretending not to notice when Satoru prodded him with his toes.

Those nights, especially in their first year, were the moments Satoru really began to understand Suguru, right to his core. He hadn’t known what to expect from him, back when he was just Suguru Geto, child prodigy, and when Satoru was assumedly just Satoru Gojo, heir to the Gojo clan. And then when you stopped talking to him, just a few months before his sixteenth birthday, Satoru came to rely on those nights more than he ever had.

Satoru would walk into a room, and your conversation with Shoko, bright and friendly and cheerful, would fall quiet. You would look at him with such hatred, and such sadness, and you would turn your back on him, just like how you had promised never to do. Satoru hated your silence more than anything, but he knew he would always have Suguru, and Suguru would never let their silence fester.  

They would talk until their voices were hoarse, because Satoru had never met someone so intrinsically similar to him before. He and Suguru disagreed, but he could feel the underlying rush of recognition permeate every conversation, and so even in their disagreements he could only see their likeness. Satoru devoured every word, because every word led him closer and closer to confirming what he was desperate to know: Suguru was the same as him. Suguru is the same.

Satoru has missed their evenings together. He’s knocked on Suguru’s door, but he hasn’t had it open to him in a while, not the way it used to, every night, without question.

Satoru has wondered if Suguru’s getting to be an insomniac, because he looks so tired all the time, like he hasn’t been sleeping. Satoru figured that him knocking on Suguru’s door in the middle of the night, every night, was probably the thing keeping him awake, so he’s stopped.

“I just said so.” Satoru tries to picture the scene: you’re leaning against the headboard of Suguru’s bed, arms crossed, attempting to hide your impatience with Suguru. Suguru’s a good distance away from you, because he’d have to be, since you’re still not comfortable for Satoru to be close to you anymore, and so Satoru decides Suguru will be sitting on the end of the bed, or, more likely, on the desk chair, or on the floor. You’ll be rolling your eyes, but trying not to. Something alights inside Satoru’s chest, fond. “And then I said I wasn’t lying.”

“I guess not.” Suguru chuckles to himself; it’s not his usual laugh, which is loud and broad and compelling, the laugh Satoru hasn’t heard for a long time. It’s more subdued, and it sounds meaner, somehow. “I figured you were playing dumb on purpose.”

“That’s not really me,” you say. “You’re thinking of Gojo. He’d play dumb for the attention: I wouldn’t.”

“Satoru would.” This time, when Suguru laughs, the mean tinge has softened. He sounds, just for a moment, familiar. “Yeah. You’re right, he would.”

“Course I’m right.”

“Now you do sound like him.”

“Oh! Oh, don’t! You’re so mean to me!” You let out a loud gasp, a touch too overdramatic for you, and Satoru realises a second later that you’re imitating him. He presses himself closer to the door, eager to hear. “But Geto, don’t you remember, I’m the—shit, what did you call me? Ages ago? Do you remember? The… like a snake charmer—”

“The Satoru whisperer.”

“Yeah!” Suguru laughs again, but you’re smiling: Satoru can tell that you’re smiling, from the roundness of your voice, the endeared tone you can’t get rid of. Satoru isn’t even offended that you’re both comparing him to a snake. You’re smiling, and Suguru is laughing.

You’ve made Suguru laugh. Satoru’s memory—his perfect memory—reminds him with the emotionless cruelty of his six eyes that it has been two months, one week, four days, since he has made Suguru laugh. He remembers the moment, the day, the joke he had made.

“I’m the Gojo whisperer. The Satoru whisperer.” Satoru’s heart stumbles. “That’s my real cursed technique, Geto, did you know?”

“I didn’t. Take off the gloves, then.”

“No.” Your laughter fades, naturally, and then with a dull thud. “Nah. I’ll keep them on.”

“I guessed as much.”

“Yeah.” There’s the sound of bedsheets rustling, and your long exhale, and then the soft scuff of fabric on fabric. Your gloves against the itchy blanket Suguru keeps on his bed: you’re fiddling with it. You’re nervous, or you’re thinking deeply about something. If Satoru could see you, he would know which it is.

“Still.” You continue, with a touch more hesitation. It surprises Satoru: you haven’t been tentative for all of this conversation. Why would you be now? He’s struck with the fear—fear?—that it could be Suguru, making you nervous. Suguru’s expression, dampening your mood, making you doubt your words. Satoru tries to brush it off.

“What is it?”

“It’s what you said.” You trail off. Then, when you next speak, it’s with the hard set your voice gets when you’re striving for manufactured confidence. “Why’d I be playing dumb? Telling you you’re good for him—or that you’re the only one?”

The conversation holds, and Suguru doesn’t say anything. It stretches long enough that Satoru, impatient to hear Suguru’s reply, fears that he’s missed it, if Suguru responded in a whisper he couldn’t catch.

But then Suguru clears his throat, and says: “Because, Hebi, it’s obvious you’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. Of course you are.”

Lying? Satoru shares your confusion, and his brain races to provide answers. This cryptic thing is something new that Suguru’s been trying out, and it doesn’t suit him. Satoru has always liked his friends honest: it’s why he likes you, and how blunt you can be, even when you’re pretending to insult him.

“About which part?” Yes! Good question, that’s a good question: which part? That Suguru is good for Satoru, whatever that means, or that Suguru is the only one who is?

But, no—he doesn’t need Suguru to answer! Satoru comes to the answer before Suguru has decided how to phrase it. It’s the second, of course it’s the second.

Of course Suguru isn’t the only one. He never has been; he’s just been different, a different facet to the desperately necessary friendships that Satoru keeps close to him. There’s you: you, his longest friend, the only person who has seen every shade of him and still wanted to stay. You: his first, his only, his best.

Thinking of you, Satoru understands what you had meant, when you had said that Suguru is good for him. Because you’re good for him, too—you’ve changed him, him and his life, and Satoru could not be himself without you by his side. He knows, because he’s lived it.

Satoru is still fresh from your absence, when just last year you were still cold and distant. Satoru had hardened into someone he hadn’t liked, and he has only been able to thaw now you are back with him.

So of course it’s the second: of course, everyone knows it’s not only Suguru. Suguru isn’t the only one, not when Satoru needs you, too.

“Both,” Suguru says.

Satoru can feel his heart contract.

“Oh.” You hum. “How have you figured that one?”

“Well. I know why you’d think you’re right—I shouldn’t have said you were lying, that wasn’t right. But we’ve changed a lot, all of us. And I don’t know how much Satoru needs me anymore.”

Anger flares up, hot and fast. What is Suguru blabbering on about? Of course Satoru needs him!

Why is Suguru saying all of this with some straight face—Satoru knows what Suguru sounds like when he’s being honest, and he’s being honest now, but Satoru keeps waiting for the punchline. Seconds pass, and Satoru hears the tick of every single one as they go, and he strains his ears for when Suguru will laugh again, and say he’s kidding, that of course he knows Satoru needs him.

“I know what you mean,” you say, quietly, and Satoru’s blood curdles. He goes completely still, even as his heartbeat thumps in his ear.

You know that he needs you. You know he does.

A flash of bitterness—how many damned times does he need to tell you, before you get it? He tells you all the time, he laughs with you and has never shared a conversation with you in which you haven’t been showered with compliments, all of them genuine. What can he do, then, if you don’t believe him? What more can he say?

And then it subsides. The hot spike of cruelty fades, and Satoru is left with a gaping hole in its absence.

“Maybe it’s an age thing. Us getting older.”

“It could be.”

“You don’t think so?”

Suguru pauses. A beat. “I think you’re good for him. Not me, not anymore.”

“You are. You just don’t see it, but you are, more than me.” You say the final word—me—so dismissively, almost with revulsion. Satoru cannot comprehend how you could think of yourself like that.

“I know what you think, and why you said I am. But it still doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“You make him better.”

“You’ve far surpassed me in that skill, Hebi.”

“I can’t give him what you can.”

“Neither can I. Not what I used to be able to.”

“No. No, Geto, you don’t see it.” Your voice picks up, and it sounds like you’re about to say everything, to finally be open as well as honest—and then you sigh, quiet and small again. “It’s different, with you. You’ve got something different with him.”

Suguru laughs that mean laugh again. “It’s interesting you still think so.”

Still? Satoru waits for you to echo it yourself, for you to insist Suguru gives you an answer. The conversation isn’t complete, and it’s unsatisfying and vague and Satoru can’t stand it. He wants you to ask for more. But you don’t: you don’t push, you don’t pry. You hold yourself back, and let everything remain unsaid.

Satoru can’t ask Suguru himself. Suguru will not be this honest with him, even though he’s been so equivocal with you.

“It was meant to be a compliment.” The words come out in a whisper, like a child at a sleepover.

There’s that rustle of bedsheets again, and Suguru says, kinder this time: “I know.”

“Yeah?”

Suguru must nod, because you let out a soft huff of breath, small and trying at laughter.

Satoru stands there, his forehead still resting against the wooden door. He only realises when he opens his eyes that he’s had them squeezed shut: his glasses have been pushed down his nose, and even though it’s late in the evening, the dim light is blinding. Satoru straightens, his mind full and thrumming and painful, and adjusts the lenses.  

“Hey.” Your voice: Satoru knows this voice. You are strong, with this voice, and so gentle.

He remembers being eleven, sitting on warm wooden stairs with the orange afternoon sun blazing behind your head like a halo. He remembers the realisation that you would die before him, that you knew, and that you accepted it. He remembers the blazing look in your eye, when you told him he would never be alone when you were still living with him.

He remembers crying in front of you, how much he’d hated it, and how much he’d wished you would take his hand and hold him.

You had comforted him with this voice. And, now, you comfort Suguru.

“You’d tell me,” you say, so tentative and kind, “if there was something wrong. Right?”

“Yes.”

“You would? Really, Suguru?”

“Yes,” Suguru repeats. Then he chuckles, blows out some air, and you squeal.

“Hey, you—!”

“Everything’s fine,” Suguru says, as you both laugh, and as your laughter dies down. “Seriously. Sorry if I’ve been short with you lately, it’s just the heat getting to me.”

His voice is light but genuine, and when you reply, you’re echoing his tone. “You sure, yeah?”

“I’m sure. I promise. Why, did you want to pinkie swear on it?”

“Oh, you’re a bastard. Maybe I will. Take my gloves off and turn your fingers into ash, see how you like it.”

“It sounds intriguing.”

“Ew.”

“Maybe it’s like a hot stone massage. Have you ever thought to try?”

You scoff, and it’s rich with the same affection as when you laugh with him. “Geto, you’re really weird.”

“You might have mentioned that.”

“Might I? Yeah, no, I think I have.”

Satoru doesn’t want to listen anymore. He pushes the door open with too much force and it bangs on the wall opposite, whining on its hinges. He feels high on adrenaline, and he doesn’t know why, but it’s the rush he gets when he’s in a fight and tastes blood.

You look up. Suguru looks over his shoulder. “Oh. Satoru, hey.”

Satoru stares at you two. He’d thought—he’d thought you’d be sitting apart, that you’d have insisted on distance between you and Suguru. You insist on it when you’re with Satoru, and he hates it, because it shows that you still don’t trust him after what happened in the Chapel, and that you’re still not properly friends again. But you and him are still much closer than you and Suguru, so—

Why aren’t you far apart? Why is Satoru standing in the doorway, staring at you and Suguru lying on the same bed, lying down next to each other, both on your sides, facing each other, only, like, actually only inches away from each other?

You’ve discarded the duvet on the floor, but you’ve draped Suguru’s shitty itchy blanket over both of you, and you’ve got a section of it wound between your fingers. You’re fiddling with it, like Satoru knew you would be. But it’s only a single bed, and you’re close to Suguru—actually, weirdly close, closer than you’d let Satoru get. And that’s him! He’s your best friend, not Suguru.

“What are you doing?” Satoru asks, before he can stop himself.

You prop yourself up on your elbow and give him a small wave. Your body had been half-obscured by Suguru’s.

You open your mouth to answer, but Suguru cuts in, dry and sarcastic: “Finishing some intense, passionate lovemaking, Satoru. What do you think?”

Satoru reels back, even though he knows Suguru’s just being a dick, teasing him. Satoru gives him a warning look, and Suguru holds his gaze, undeterred. He doesn’t know if Suguru’s bringing it up on purpose, or if he’s just being cold—Satoru had told him about the dreams he keeps having, and he wishes he hadn’t, because Suguru hadn’t said anything helpful about it. Not at all the way Satoru’d hoped he would, because he’d just given him an uninterested look and told him not to tell you about it. Which, yeah, obviously Satoru wasn’t going to. That wasn’t the question he needed answering.

Satoru looks back to him. Suguru’s hair is down. It’s like pen ink, the way it spills across the white of his pillow. Suguru raises his eyebrows at him, and Satoru knows his face has been burning scarlet.

You snort, and drop yourself back down on the bed.

“You haven’t finished next week’s essay, have you, Gojo?” you ask, placing a gloved hand over your eyes and letting out a tired sigh. “I was going to make Geto help me with it, but he distracted me, and I’ve only just remembered about it. Eugh.”

“Distracted?” Satoru’s brain goes on autopilot, and he clocks what he’s saying whole seconds after the words leave his mouth. “Hey, that’s not some innuendo is it, Hebi-Hebi? Have you two been holding out on me?”

“What? Oh, right. The passionate lovemaking.” You laugh, amused and tired. “Yeah, you know me. Number one playboy right here.”  

“For sure,” Satoru says, playing along. “I feel you could be a player, you know, if you went and got yourself a boyfriend sometime. What do you think?”

His eyes flick between you and Suguru. He doesn’t have a name for the boiling feeling rising up in him, but it’s got him flushed and out of the loop, and he dislikes it vehemently.

“Probably not anytime soon,” you say. Satoru notices Suguru’s lips curl, knowingly, and he almost blurts it out right here, that he knows Suguru knows something, and that he needs to know it too.

“Hey, never say never.” Satoru shakes it off. He tries to: the boiling feeling stays simmering, and he still can’t squash it, no matter how much he wants to. But Satoru is excellent at ignoring and pretending, and so he does, and turns to Suguru. “Yo. Movie night. I’ve chosen a good shitty one, yeah?”

Satoru thrusts the DVD case in front of him. Suguru’s eyes flicker on it for a second, and then he leans back.

“I’m pretty tired, Satoru,” he says. He rolls onto his back, his hair ink on the pillow, his dark eyes closed. “Can we skip this week?”

“What?” Satoru blinks. Then his face contorts into a scowl, and he grimaces down at him. “What do you mean, tired? It’s Wednesday night. I’ve picked us a movie.”

“I could do with the sleep. Next time, yeah?”

“But—”

“You have been looking tired, Geto,” you say, standing. “We’ll leave you be.”

You send him a look, but Satoru ignores it. “No, we won’t.”

“Gojo—”

“C’mon, Suguru,” he urges. Satoru crouches down next to him, so their heads are level. At the proximity, Suguru opens his eyes, and turns his head so he can meet Satoru’s gaze. Satoru sends him a grin. “C’mon. Movie night. You won’t remember you were tired when you’re thirty. Movie night, come on.”

Suguru watches him. Satoru swallows.

It’s not just his eyes that are dark. There are heavy bags around them, deep-set and puffy. Suguru’s cheekbones are gaunter than they used to be. His gaze has been losing its warmth. He even says his name differently. Satoru.

Satoru has asked. Suguru doesn’t let him in. Suguru doesn’t think Satoru needs him.

For a split second, Satoru wishes you weren’t here: if it was just them, maybe Satoru could admit that he’d heard it all. Maybe he could grab Suguru by the shoulders and shake him, and then he’d force sense into him, and make him realise that yes, Satoru needs him, that Satoru needs him desperately and that Satoru cannot imagine carrying on without him. Maybe Satoru could say that to him.

Maybe he will. But Suguru just quirks him a smile, and waves him off. “Nah, honestly. I’m tired. I’ll get an early night, and we can do something later.”

Satoru is not used to being dismissed, but he has learnt what it means now, after all these years.

“Yeah,” he says, brightly. “For sure. Next week.”

Suguru hums, and Satoru tries not to read it as non-committal.

He avoids your gaze as he ducks through the door. If he looks at you, or lets you see his face, you will be able to read every emotion flickering through him. Better than himself: Satoru doesn’t even know what he’s feeling.

“I’ll walk you back,” you say, as you shut the door.

“Great.”

“Yeah. Hey, Gojo, I’ve got a DVD player in my room. I can watch it with you, if you really wanted to see it.”

Yeah, sure.

Will you let me get that close?

Satoru wants to say it, biting.

As close as you let him get? Both of us, on your bed, inches away?

Will you do that again? Will you do that with me?

Will you?

He looks down at you, ready to spit it out.

Satoru falters. Your smile. The small upturn of your lips, the gleam of your eyes, the warm glow to your skin in the evening light. You’re smiling up at him, and Satoru knows you better than anyone; you know that he’s upset, and that this boiling feeling is going to burn him alive, and you’re trying to make him feel better.

You know him. You want to spend time with him.

Satoru lets out a breath, and feels the tension, heavy set in his jaw, leave him. He looks back to you, to your shy hopefulness, and there’s that rushing feeling, that affection and fondness and warmth all rushing together.

“Now, if you insist,” Satoru says, grinning broadly down at you. “I know you’re desperate to stay in my company, Hebi-Hebi, but you don’t have to be so obvious about it! But, I guess I’ll let you see it with me, if you really want to.”

Your eyes shine. “I’m glad I can. Thanks, Gojo. Come on.”

[anonymooseforever007]

Shadow by the Bed

(Mainly Finn & Tommy platonically) + (Technically Finn Shelby x Unnamed Girlfriend)

Summary: It's the middle of the night after a family party and everything seems calm. Until Lizzie's woken up by a shadowy figure standing over her and Tommy's bed.....

A/N: Hi Y'all! No trigger warnings other than Finn and his Girlfriend getting drunk. Also even though this was made as a Finn x Reader fic in mind, it really is a Finn and Tommy funny fluff fic, and I actually didn't use Y/N in this one at all. I think I want to connect it to some more ideas I have for the same girlfriend in mind, hence the tag. But the prompt for this one has been on my mind for a while and it was super fun to write! Also I looked it up and it seems the first "instant portable camera" so to speak was invented in 1923 which I checked on that fact! Enjoy❤️

WC-4.2k

Main Masterlist

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It was Lizzie who woke up in the early morning to the sound of master bedroom being entered. The squeak of a doorknob broke through her previously unconscious mind, and the soft stumbling steps towards the bed woke her even further. And for a second, her sleep idled mind thought it was Tommy.....but he was ,for once, sound asleep next to her. Then she thought it could be Charlie, trying to find comfort in their bed after a nightmare. But when she looked over, her blood ran cold and she froze, seeing the tall figure standing by the side of the bed, cloaked in shadows too dark to see his face.

The intruder looked at her for a second, and tilted his head, as if he was confused to why she was there. Tommy himself still hadn't woken up which served to scare Lizzie even more since he was probably the lightest sleeper she'd ever met. Every time she went to check on baby Ruby, or when Charlie tried to sneak in because of a nightmare, Tommy would be wide awake as soon as be heard the turn of the doorknob or footsteps by the bed. So the fact her usually vigilant husband was still softly snoring while an unknown man stood over them both, only increased her growing fear of what was about to occur. But before she could open her mouth to scream or hit Tommy awake, the figure moved again. He raised his hand and waved at her, almost eagerly, like he finally recognized her as someone he liked a lot.

"Hiii Lizzzzieee!"

Finn. 

It was Finn standing beside the bed in the middle of the night waving at her. He was drunk too, very drunk in fact, but Lizzie recognized her youngest brother in law. She remembered the party the family had that night. By then end of it, the only two people remaining in the living room were Finn and his girlfriend who, sat on his lap as they eagerly talked, lost in their own little world again. Evidently, after the rest of his kin had gone away Finn decided he wanted another drink... or four. Placing her hand over her chest, she took a few breaths trying to calm her racing heart. Now it made sense why Tommy hadn't woken up. 

Thomas Shelby was a hard man to sneak up on, even in his sleep. He was a light sleeper and had been since before the war. Almost every little creak or bump in the night was enough to wake him to at least open one eye and see what was going on. It was like his mind perceived any noise as a possible threat he needed to size up.  And as he grew older it remained that way. But for some reason, Finn was the only one able to move around at night and not wake up Tommy. It didn't matter if he was trying to be quiet or accidentally knocking over the dining room chairs at three o'clock in the morning. It was like Tommy's internal danger sensor had a glitch that would skip over any ruckus made by his youngest sibling. And there was a reason for that too. It was likely caused by the years of young Finn sneaking into Tommy's bed at night. Whether it was because of the cold or nightmares or just because he wanted to, there were many nights before the war then Tommy would wake up to his youngest brother sprawled out on his chest hogging all the blankets. And even if in the beginning Tommy would wake up, it seemed he got use to it. So much to the point where his little brother's movements at night became a background noise he could recognize even in sleep. One he recognized as nonthreatening and thus not a reason to wake up. And it was a noise he could apparently remember even years later today. Hence why Tommy was currently laying on his bed eyes closed and breathing peaceful, while his youngest brother and his wife stared each other down. 

"Hiiii Lizzie....."

Finn repeated again, slurring slightly, noticing he didn't get an answer the first time and in his fogged mind figured she hadn't heard him. Lizzie ran a hand down her face once and finally composed herself again, whispering to the freckled twenty year old who grinned at her drunkenly.

"Finn? What are you doing here? Is everything alright," she questioned, hoping that nothing had happened to him or his sweet girlfriend after the family had left them. She couldn't think of any reason why he'd be here otherwise. Something must have been wrong. Tommy grumbled slightly and shifted in his sleep at her words.

"Noo.. It's all fineee," Finn replied, his words being drawn out and trialing off as he spoke. But he still hadn't told Lizzie why he was there. She'd evidently have to try a new route.

"Ok, that's nice Finn," Lizzie spoke in the same manner she did to four year old Charlie when he showed her the croaking dirt covered mystery box he was trying to take to the bathtub one day. She still wasn't sure how he'd caught so many frogs... "Why don't you tell me why you're here ok? Wouldn't you rather sleep in your bed?l

"No. I want Tommy."

"Tommy?"

"Yeahhhh, I need Tommy right now," Finn raised a hand to rub the back of his head, nodding like everything made sense. He nodded to himself again, looking down at his sleeping brother  once more. Then to Lizzie's surprise, and with much more agility than a drunken boy should have, he sat on the bed and rolled to lay right on top of his older brother. It was the sudden weight on top of him that finally woke Tommy. Even if he could ignore the noises his little brother made moving around the room, the sudden, almost crushing heaviness on his chest was enough to scare him out of his sleep.

"Fucking fuck....Fuck!"

Tommy shot up, cursing as he tried to get his bearings. Well, he tried but the heavy mass on top of him, grumbling in his ear, made it hard to move. Fortunately, before he could grab his razor cap from the side of the bed, he recognized the annoyed whine of his baby brother coming from the man whose head he was trying to shove back. It was Finn. Why the fuck was Finn on top of him?

"Finn?"

"Tommmyyyy!," the mentioned man groaned lightly as Finn shifted on top of him. Despite being the youngest, Finn had nearly a head over his brothers and wasn't quite the tiny little thing he use to be. He practically blanketed Tommy as he sprawled over the bed. "Tommy I'm gonna sleep here tonight. I want you to rub my back."

A brief glance to his left, showed Tommy his wife who was quietly laughing at his predicament. After she got over the fear of his intrusion, Lizzie found the whole situation quite entertaining. It wasn't often Tommy was caught so off guard, especially when he couldn't just threaten or fight the person off like he usually did. Polly would probably beat his ass if he shoved Finn off him and left him to his own devices while this intoxicated. It didn't happen too often, but when Finn did get as drunk as his older brothers usually did, it never ended well. Last time it ended with him climbing a tree and refusing to get down even when all his brothers demanded it. To his brothers' slight annoyance, in the end, all it had taken to get him down was his girlfriend passing by on the street, who saw him and asked if he would come down to hold her hand. Before she had even finished her request, he was out of the tree, fingers entwined with hers, grinning like an idiot even though she was softly lecturing him on the dangers of drunk climbing. But now, Finn's girl was nowhere in Tommy's, admittedly limited, sight. That still didn't stop the growing annoyance towards the brother who'd interrupted his sleep.

"Don't you have a your own bed to do that? And stop moving your fucking legs, I don't need you kicking me in the balls."  

Somewhat defeated, Tommy closed his eyes again and laid his head back against his pillow. Lizzie, still laughing silently, obviously wasn't going to help him, and truth be told Tommy was still tired enough that he didn't want to keep trying to move what wasn't moving. Finn ignored his last comment, shifting again to get more comfortable, and buried his face deeper into the blankets on top of Tommy.

"I can't go to bed. My girl's there."

"Your girlfriend's in your bed?"

"Yeah, I have a girlfriendddd and she's reallyyy pretty and I lo..loveee her and she helps me read and she had this really cute fucking freckle on her top lip that's slightly off the middle and you can only see it if..." Finn's intoxicated rambling about his favorite person could barely be heard as he described his love. Rolling his eyes beneath closed lids, Tommy wished he could free one of his hands to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"That's great Finn, she sounds great, so why don't you go to her and ask her to rub your back and play with your hair? Why don't you get in bed with her?"

It was a decent enough question too. What would compel a young drunk man to seek the company of his grumpy older brother over the girl he's so in love with? Especially if he wants affection. In fact, Tommy was rather confused why Finn came to him instead of her. He knew that when he was this young and drunk he would rather have been with Greta than Arthur any day of the week. He remembered the nights long ago when they'd both fall asleep on his small bed after a night out. She use to play with his hair and kiss his neck lightly while he drunkenly professed his love in Romani... But that was a long time ago. And judging by the way his head finally shot up in shock, and by how he attempted to...glare maybe?....At Tommy, Finn had other opinions.

"I'm a not fucking pervert," he slurred out slightly while mixing up his words and bringing up a hand to thump his brother on the head, almost as if admonishing him for suggesting such a thing. Which confused Tommy even more as it wouldn't have been the first Finn shared a bed with his girlfriend. He'd come across them curled up in Finn's room after a party on more than once occasion, so it wouldn't be a stretch for it to happen again. 

"What does that.... stop fucking hitting me... Lizzie grab his hand... Lizzie help me.... Lizzie help.... ok. What the fuck does that mean?"

Rolling his eyes (or trying to) and pulling up his head to scrutinize his brother again, Finn huffed.

"She's drunk. I'm not gonna get in bed with her if she's drunk," he explained as it was the most obvious thing ever. "She doesn't like doing it with me. So I'm not going to do it with her. It's respectful and all that shit."

"She's drunk?"

"Yeahhhh, we played a game to see who could flip a coin into a cup first and if you lost you had to drink and theeenn we both lost a lot. And she kept giggling and almost tripped on the stairs and then she was tired so she's sleeping in my bed. But I'm not gonna get in with her. Not tonight. No no no," Finn shook his head eyes closed as he recounted the end of his night with his girl. Even if he had too many drinks, he still remembered all the times she sent him to her couch for being a bit too tipsy after a night out. Sure, she'd still give him water and kiss his forehead, but she didn't want to risk getting thrown up on. Besides she had told him she didn't feel comfortable getting in bed with him when he was drunk and he figured she'd feel the same way about it if she was. 

Finn kept shaking his head to show how much he wouldn't be sleeping in his room that night, until the motion made him nauseous and he groaned burying his head back on the bed. He didn't notice Tommy's look to Lizzie, who was already grabbing her robe from the side of the bed to go check on the occupant in Finn's room. Though it was unlikely she was injured or needed help, the older pair felt it would be safer to check just in case. 

Now the only two people in the room were Tommy and Finn, the latter of whom was still sprawled out over his brother. Tommy shifted around once again, hoping that Finn would move to take the spot Lizzie left empty but to no avail. It only served to make Finn groan more as the consequences of the alcohol began to hit his his system. 

"Tommy.... rub my back... don't you love me?"

Finn had resorted to trying to guilt trip his brother now. It was something he'd done many times when he was younger. Asking for something and then questioning his siblings love if they said no. It was always done with the mischievous intentions of a sneaky child. It rarely worked on Polly, who was immune by now to the childish manipulation, but more often than not his siblings were more than willing to "prove" they loved him the most. 

Tommy let out another sigh, but this one was laced with slight amusement. Even if it was slightly annoying, there was some entertainment to seeing Finn this way. It felt nice for Tommy to be able to recognise the bit of youth still left in him. Truth be told, he didn't see it as much anymore. 

In recent years, Finn had become very different from the kid he use to be. And not in the fact that he was a bit harder like his brothers. No, Finn was undoubtedly softer than the rest of his family, something that wasn't necessarily bad. But as he'd grown, the effects of the pressure he felt from his family had become more and more obvious. Almost gone was the Finn young who use to ask lots of questions and run around, rather spending the day playing football than sit at desk. He was replaced with a quieter young man who often lacked the confidence his older brothers posed. He didn't laugh loud enough to be heard from the street like he use to, always unsure if it was the right thing to laugh at or not. He seemed to make a point at time never to be louder than his brothers. like they set all the limits for what should be done. Where his brothers gladly wielded the power their last name held, Finn didn't seem to know what to do with it. He was always somewhat tense even around his closest family and friends. Like if he fully relaxed and acted as he did when comfortable, he'd be teased or told to man up like so often before. Tommy wouldn't apologise for it, but he knew it was partially him and his brothers fault for that. The anxieties that came with what Finn thought his family would want him to say or do or enjoy often lead him stay quiet, and do nothing, rather risk the wrong thing. At it's worst, it came to a point where someone would have probably looked at him and the only words they'd have been able to use to describe him would be Shelby and Blinder. He's gotten so caught up in appeasing his family he forgot to have a life and personality outside the image he believed they wanted him to be. 

Luckily however, finding his girlfriend seemed to fix that. She was the sweet girl who had agreed to teach him how to read. One day their lesson plans switched from reading words in books to reading the word cards during a silent film. Then when she started taking him places with her friends and going to do the things they liked to do, Finn was able to get a bit of his younger self back. When he was able to find a place in life that was completely separated from the one he was strictly living, and have time to try interests he enjoyed independently, even if his brothers didn't care for them.... That's when his family noticed another, admittedly healthier, change in their youngest. He was more relaxed and comfortable making his own decisions, knowing that there was someone there for him at the end of the day, even if he'd messed up at work or the rest of his family was fighting. A little bit more social at the family gatherings again, he wasn't as annoyed by the teasing comments they'd always made, and felt a bit more confident to share his opinions, knowing he had someone who'd usually try to back him up or at least hear him out. His girlfriend had done some good in him, helping him recognise that he could still have a life outside of his family's expectations. And while it did hinder somewhat his brothers plans to toughen him up to the darker side of the business, they were glad to see Finn a happy as he was. When he was around her he reminded them of the bouncy kid he was when he still laughed loud enough to be heard down the street. And Tommy was glad for that. 

"Tommmmyy," Finn mumbled again, his eyes were closed and he was almost asleep. His words were barely audible. Tommy looked at the face of his twenty year old brother, seeing it was still so much like the one he'd had at five. Sure he'd lost the baby fat and gained a numerous amount of freckles and a few small scars, but it was still the face of the small boy who climbed in his bed because at night when Arthur's snoring sounded like a monster in his closest. It was the same face that shared a mischievous glint with Ada when he wanted to prank John. It was the same face that tears were streaming down on the day he'd left for France and the same one buried in his neck the day he'd returned. It was the face he kept seeing in nightmares for weeks after the Lee family blew up the car, imagining what would have happened if he hadn't got there in time. It was the face of Tommy's baby brother, he still didn't like to deny, even if he did it more and more often these days.

"Do you really want me to rub you back like I did when you were little?"

"Uh huhhh...." 

Finally relenting, Tommy rolled his eyes again, but this time he had a small smile on his face. Giving a somewhat dramatic sigh, the older brother was finally able to free his arms from the weight on top of him. Then, much to Finn's delight, Tommy moved his arms around to rub and scratch his brother's back. He did it the same way he'd done it all those years ago, calming movements all the way down and then rubbing a few small circles between the shoulder blades. Occasionally he'd move one hand to the base of Finn's neck and place some pressure there for a few seconds. 

Tommy's couldn't even hear Finn's mumbled thanks as the younger man had finally fallen asleep. The soft familiar snoring made it's way to Tommy's ears less than a minute after he'd finally given in, leaving him to chuckles softly under his breath. Finn always did fall asleep fast, especially when someone was rubbing his back. Tommy could have chosen to stop now, rescinding his hands and moving Finn off of him. He could have gotten up and gone to meet Lizzie in the guest room by the nursery that she was likely sleeping in now.... However he didn't. 

That night Tommy would spend another half hour rubbing his sleeping brother's back, before he fell back into his own, surprising peaceful, sleep. Finn remained sprawled over his brother, softly snoring in his ear, while Tommy's hand lay on his brother's back, softly gripping the shirt he wore. And once again the night was calm.....

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

"Fucking hell Ada, go slower or you're gonna step on my balls"

"I am going slow, it's not my fault that John's fat ass is making the bed squeak."

"Fuck off, my ass isn't fat! Besides at least I'm not the one using his head to keep my balance."

"All of you quiet before you wake them."

Argued whispers broke though Tommy's mind a few hours later. It confused his sleep idled mind. Not the fact they were arguing, that was a regular occurrence, but just hearing the voices of Arthur, Ada, and John so early in the morning. Why was he hearing them this early?...

Or maybe it wasn't early, Tommy could feel a warmth on his back probably from the morning sun. Usually he was at breakfast before it came up. Still half asleep, he ignored their argument, not wanting to deal with whatever fight they were having now, and shifted to get more comfortable. Only to find that he couldn't move, still held down by a heavy weight. Moving agin to try and free himself he realized that not only had he turned on his stomach during the night, but the warmth on his back was from Finn, still asleep hugging onto his form. He also figured it was Finn's hand gripping his hair tightly too. The quiet ginger had a habit of doing that in his sleep to Tommy when he was younger. 

The hushed voices around the room froze, and he could feel eyes on his form. Then he felt the bed shift slightly and the soft thump of a hand hitting a chest. What the fuck was going on?

"Shit, Esme take it already."

Groaning at the bright light, Tommy opened his eyes and lifted up his head. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust and his nose inadvertently scrunched at having to wake up. For once, Tommy was actually sleeping well and he was mildly annoyed at having been disturbed. But that annoyance turned to more confusion soon enough. 

Ada, John, and Arthur were all situated on their own spots in Tommy's bed. He could feel the back of Arthur's knees by his head to the left side of the bed and it was Arthur griping his hair, apparently for balance. Ada seemed to be next to Arthur sitting criss-cross, the extra pressure over his back indicating that she was leaning some of her weight on Finn. And John he could actually see sitting directly on the back of Tommy's knees, keeping him from rolling over again.... had Finn not still been sprawled on top of him. Looking to right he saw not just Esme, but Lizzie, Linda, Polly, Michael, AND Uncle Charlie watching them. He also noticed Finn's girlfriend over Lizzie's shoulder, wrapped tightly in a blanket, watching silently with a glass of water for her own hangover. They were all observing the scene before them with equal levels of amusement as all the Shelby siblings plied into one bed for the first time in an over a decade probably. It was that moment Tommy, still half asleep, noticed the camera in Esme's hands and realised what was about to occur. But he didn't get the chance to protest.

"Shit he's seen it, ESME GO!"

A second before Esme took the photo, Ads raised her hand and brought it down as hard as she could on Finn's back. 

Scared shitless Finn shot awake and cursed, his eyes wide open. Instinctively he began fighting off whoever was on top of him, causing Tommy to groan in pain as an elbow was driven into his back. This started a miniature wrestling match between the five of them as Finn scrambled to grab whoever hit him, Ada, John, and Arthur, fought to hold him down just because they could, and Tommy, having enough of it all, fought to get up. They were all yelling, but none of them could be understood by the rest of the family watching on. Eventually, Finn tried to shove himself up again and succeeded to do so while also knocking Ada off the bed. When she fell she grabbed John and Arthur, who ended up grabbing Finn, who grabbed Tommy and they all ended up in another pile on the floor. 

Across the room Linda and Lizzie were almost crying they were laughing so hard. Uncle Charlie was holding onto Michael's shoulder to keep himself up right as they laughed. Polly was chuckling quietly but just mostly watched the scene with a nostalgic smile on her face, remembering the times when the siblings acted like that more often. It have been a long time since then and it was nice to see them acting like they did when they were younger. Esme's smile was partially hidden as she held the camera to her eye to take another photo of the pile on the floor. Finn's girlfriend was still wrapped with a blanket around her like a hooded cloak, and she was grinning while telling Esme the best spot to take another picture. In her hand was the other photo that had just finished developing. Arthur, John, and Ada could be seen smiling happily as they piled over their two brothers, Finn's face showed pure fear as he was smacked awake, and Tommy's half asleep confusion finally processing what was in Esme's hand. It was a perfect picture showing the Shelby siblings in their natural habitat....Chaos.

From the pile on the floor, it seemed as if Finn's body finally remembered the events of last night and he heaved slightly as the nausea kicked in.

"I'm gonna be fucking sick."

His siblings scrambled to get away.

....

Main Masterlist

[zyvlxqht]

⋆·: ̗̀➛ decisions┊lhs.

pairing: idol!heeseung x hair stylist!reader

genres: fluff to angst (sorray 😣) word count: 2.7k+

warnings: hand holding. there’s like one kiss. slight forbidden love. crying. arguing. reader has second thoughts about the relationship. reader forgets anniversary. break up. let me know if i’m missing any!

mentions: enhypen members specifically jungwon, jake, and sunoo. bang pd. heeseung’s cover of ‘off my face’.

author’s note: a little something to keep your waiting interesting 🥹 this is something i’ve written a long awhile ago; i changed a few things but nonetheless, i hope you enjoy! i apologize in advance but i promise (no promises) it isn’t that… bad 🫂 this was proofread like one time only!!!

“ (now all becomes clear) one in a billion… “ his voice smoothly carries out the final performance of enhypen’s comeback show. there’s a stupid smile on his face as he sees jake make his way to him.

“ dude! that was amazing! " he snickered at the compliment, rushing out back after thanking jake. his members shared a few confused glances at how quick he left but to him, there was only one reason why and it was for you.

as soon as the door separating the stage and backroom opened, your eyes light up when you saw his slightly sweaty silver hair and the genuine smile plastered on his face. your heart raced and you almost run into his arms but you realize the setting you both were in, better to not risk it.

you mentally sigh to yourself before calling out to him “ heeseung! let’s get you all cooled down “ you say, flashing him a small smile as he makes his way to you. he gathers himself up, thanking you as he sits in the chair in front of you. he takes hold of your hand, his thumb making small circular motions on your palm.

he opens his mouth to finally speak but the sound of the door creaking meant the members and staff were nearby. immediately he let go of your hand and the lingering excitement he had; a sulking expression now on his face because he so badly wanted your opinion on his improvised high note.

loud chatter filled the room and the small moment that could’ve been something, disappeared.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

this became a new routine for you. what is it that makes having an idol boyfriend so hard? well for one, you’re his hair stylist.

it’s been about a few months since you landed the job and the idea of almost getting caught and sneaking around with him makes it even more worthwhile. you get to sneak small pecks on his forehead, hold his hand time to time, and sometimes even feed him a few snacks when no one’s looking. yeah, definitely worthwhile.

the boys had finished another round of rehearsals for tomorrow, it’s been a busy month since their comeback. you slowly make your way to heeseung, bringing along the small electric fan to help him.

“ here, this will probably be better than the thin paper you just folded. “ you glanced over at him when you realize his hand was already on yours, eyes stuck on each other.

his eyes sparkled and you didn’t know if you could ever look away. however, he takes the fan out of your hands and acts like nothing happened. you two share a small moment before snapping back to reality, taking a deep breath.

you turn back around to the corner desk, practically ignoring everyone’s stares in the room. you couldn’t believe how obvious that interaction was. thank god, your shift just ended. your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you picked up your bags and left.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

once you’re home, you place your things down and lean against the countertop. you really need to make some mental notes so this doesn’t happen again. this is the first job you’ve been able to land in so long and you really need it. despite all your talk about it being worthwhile because of him, you can’t get caught under these circumstances at the moment.

you make your way to the bedroom, taking in how your room smells like his cologne. it distracts you from any negative thoughts you might have, which then reminds you that you two have reservations tonight.

you take a quick shower before getting yourself all dolled up. you contemplated on what to wear but you always knew you were going go with the short purple dress. his favorite color besides ivory. you wanted to blow his mind tonight… for all the good reasons of course.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

after about 15 minutes, you heard the doorbell ring and you happily open the door to see your handsome boyfriend. he definitely cleans up well, as if he knew you were going to wear his favorite color… he was also wearing a purple shirt and a pair of black slacks.

he grabbed your hand almost instantly, intertwining your fingers with his after you locked the front door.

“ i missed you love, you left so quick earlier “ there was a small pout evident on his lips. you gave him a gentle smile, pecking it away as he opens the car door for you.

“ i know i know but if i didn’t, i would not look the way i do right now “ you replied, hints of sarcasm in your voice. he raised his brow towards you as he made his way into the driver’s seat, casually placing his hand on your thigh like it was a regular thing.

“ whether you left early or not, you always look beautiful to me “ he said softly, stealing a couple glances of you while trying to focus on the road. he still couldn’t believe that you were his; it seemed almost impossible for the two of you to be together due to the company rules but hey, rules are made to be broken and knowing him, he would do anything for you even if it costed his career and maybe… that’s where the two of you are really different.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

heeseung actually lied about the reservations. he had planned a whole candlelight dinner at the beach right off this cliff with the view of the dark blue ocean waves and he went all out for decorations.

he pulled out the chair for you as you sat down, making his way across from you. there was a huge smile plastered on his face and you could tell just how happy he was in this moment.

“ can you believe our one year anniversary is in a few days? it’s kept me up the past few nights, i mean it already feels like it’s been more than 5 years with you so it’s still a bit unbelievable “ he initiates the conversation, reaching for your hand. handing hold was definitely a must in your guy’s relationship; it’s a comforting, yet intimate thing you two agreed on.

you return the huge smile, gazing into his brown eyes “ you’re so silly hee! one year has definitely come quicker than we expected but i’m happy either way with you “ you send a flying kiss in his direction and he pretends to catch it.

light laughter erupts the beginning of the evening and as you sit across from the man you just expressed your feelings to, you question just how much this relationship really means to you and the lengths you’re willing to go.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

there were various dishes placed on the table and you couldn’t believe just how much food heeseung ordered for the both of you. you even realized that it was all your favorite foods.

“ no you did not! “ you exclaim happily, a feeling of disbelief evident in your expression. besides heeseung, there was nothing else that made you happier than food. heeseung has always been one of the people in your life who encourages you to eat, he wants you to be healthy and of course, happy in your own body.

“ all for you my y/n, thank you for being so patient in this relationship. i know keeping us a secret and sneaking around can get tiring but you have never given up on us and i am forever grateful. “

there’s a weird unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach at his words but even so, your eyes water and you choose to ignore it as you reach to cup his cheeks and kissing his delicate lips. it was definitely worth the wait this week.

he kissed you back almost immediately, a grin forming on his lips between the kiss. “ i guess someone really did miss me huh? “ he teased you a bit as you playfully roll your eyes.

you two pull away, locking your hands together at both ends of the tables.

“ i love you, lee heeseung. “

“ i love you more, kim y/n. “

｡･:*˚:✧｡

it’s been a few days since the dinner date with heeseung and his words still haven’t left your mind. if a stranger were to tell you that someone could actually love you as much as heeseung does, you’d probably laugh in their face but you’re so thankful that this love was real.

it was about 7:30 am when you woke up, you slowly got out of bed and did your morning routine. you weren’t a morning person and heeseung has constantly nagged you about it but who was he to judge you for wanting to sleep in?

you got ready for the day and grabbed your essentials before running out your door, it was already 8:15 am and enhypen’s performance starts in an hour, you worried if you’d make it in time. you’re usually very punctual so maybe bang pd would ignore this first late warning.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

as you made your way into hype, you instantly felt intense stares from individuals in the lobby. you started feeling anxious, what the heck was going on? you brushed them off and made your way up to the back room, enhypen was already waiting there for you but heeseung was missing. worry started to fill your head but you had no time to waste so, you continued on with your regular schedule like your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest.

the clock stroke 9 am when you finished the boys’ hair and still no sight of heeseung. you started picking at your finger tips for awhile before you heard a voice speak up as if they could read your mind.

“ if you’re looking for heeseung hyung, bang pd asked to speak to him earlier this morning.. “

pause.

“ there were photos of the two of you a few nights ago, are you two really dating? “

you look up to see jungwon, concern shown all on his face. you were so taken back that all you could muster up was a small “ yes “, which caused him to furrow his brows.

“ you both know the rules, risks like this is not good for the both of you. “ hints of frustration could be heard in his voice, clear signs that he was not happy about the situation.

“ we can’t risk losing heeseung hyung so… please leave him be. ”

and with a guilty expression, jungwon walked off.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

bang pd had just left the backroom after he spoke to you. he was willing to give you one more chance to show him that you deserved this job and a part of you broke inside. how were you suppose to leave the only person who’s ever loved you more than life itself?

the music from the boy’s performances were blasting from the tvs in the back room but that was the least of your worries. even then, jungwon’s words wouldn’t leave your mind. it seemed like you had no choice but to not interact with heeseung.

and just like every time, enhypen’s performance ended and the normal loud voices eroded into the back room but this time, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up from the floor.

you fought tears that threatened to cascade down your face; you could clearly hear his voice and catch his cologne out of everyone in the room. the scent of him so comforting to you.

you took a deep breath and nervously made your way to the members, trying to make it seem like nothing bothered you. you walked past him, handing the small electric fan that you usually give him to sunoo. you couldn’t help but feel his eyes on you; the fact that you two haven’t got to talk to each other all day made the tension feel ten times worse. you felt your heart ache as you turned around, making eye contact with him for a small second and that was the only thing shared between you both.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

a few long minutes passed and everyone had left for a lunch break. you sat in the room, trying to collect yourself but the world stopped when you heard his voice call out for you “ my love… please look at me. “

his words tugged at your heart strings and automatically, you brought your gaze up to him. he made his way in front of you, towering over you with his 6 foot figure.

“ i promise you, this doesn’t have to change anythi- “ you stood up abruptly and cut him off.

“ yes it does hee, you know it does. we always feared that this would happen… it was inevitable. “ your voice softly lingered on, seeing the agony slowly build up on his face.

“ don’t do this y/n, it’s not what you want. “

“ i will not live with the guilt of being the reason why your career ends hee! “

“ i’m not asking you to be! “

“ then what are you asking me, hee?! huh? “ your chest heaves up and down at how the conversation went from 0 to 100 in the span of a few seconds. you shifted your gaze to the side, almost defeated.

“ you’re the only one keeping me going y/n, i can’t lose you. “

“ i need this job hee... i can’t. you know how hard it was for me to find a job, i’m- “ there was a tight grasp on your wrist as he cut you off, your back up against the wall.

“ i’m begging you y/n… you’re the only one i need, i’ll provide for the both of us. “ you could hear the crumbling desperation in his voice and the constant deep breaths he took as he looked down at you.

“ how can i do life without you? “ he barely managed to utter.

you could feel the immense emotions ready to burst out as you two locked eyes once you gathered the strength to look up at him again. you and heeseung didn’t even have to speak to know how each other felt. he already knew you made up your mind and it hurt to know that you could make a decision so easily.

“ i’m so sorry hee… “ your voice cracked as you saw the tears form in his eyes. you longed for his embrace but you know you’re the last person to deserve to be in his arms.

“ do you even know what day it is, y/n? “ his voice trembled. his question caught you off guard. he tried to look for any remembrance in your eyes but he couldn’t. he was in disbelief.

“ it’s may 30th y/n.. our one year anniversary. do you really not remember? “

the realization finally hit you. you couldn’t believe the words that just escaped his lips, how could you have forgotten? even through his chaotic schedule, he still remembered. it was this moment, you couldn’t stop the flow of tears that left your eyes.

“ that cover, don’t you remember it? the smiles that we shared, that day alone will always be my favorite… “ he swallowed down his sobs, his posture straightening as the pain he felt intensified.

“ i know you already made a decision love... i just wish you talked to me before you did. “ he brought his thumbs up to gently wipe away your tears.

“ hee, if i could go back just a few hours, i would’ve done this all differently. i’m so sorry…“ despite everything that just unfolded, you embraced him one last time.

you felt the warmth of his arms around you and the warm teardrops on your shirt. “ i will never stop loving you, lee heeseung. “

finally, he let his sobs through the moment he wrapped you up in his arms. maybe if he held you a bit longer, this would all of a sudden be a dream. that’s what he hoped for, at least.

“ i love you kim y/n… with everything i have. you are undoubtedly, the best decision i have ever made. “ he mumbled through his sobs as he finally let you go.

[manias-wordcount]

There do be not enough roy mustang stuff out there and i crave fluffy angst for him. All i can think of though is the "i thought you were dead hug". Probably not out in the open, given his position, but possibly as a form of love confession in private. I love your writing by the way. You're my go to for good anime fanfics.

O' Colonel, My Colonel (Roy Mustang x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘀𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝗱 𝘀𝗺𝗵 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘁!! ;]

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

The door closes behind you with a heavy thud. You manage to finish your salute just in time to hear the final note in its symphony.

  You’ve heard it so many times it’s hard to forget. You’ve memorized the sound. Every creak and groan and its place. And it used to annoy you. Used to make you grimace every single time you had to take a trip down the hall to this office. But by all things holy, you’re more than glad you got to hear it at least one more time. Because now that you’ve heard the sound?

  You feel like you can finally breathe.

  The files tucked beneath your arms are heavy. And standing at attention has never been your strongest suit as just an administrative secretary. But his office is exactly as you remember it during the hours such as these. The hours when the sun starts to crawl on all fours and the sky gets painted shades of fiery reds and oranges and pinks. The hours when those will a little too much pay for their very few responsibilities decide that they’ve done enough sitting around for the day. And the hours when people like you and him had only truly begun to start working. His office looks exactly the same. And you know why you thought it would change. But it didn’t. It didn’t change.

  The man who owns this office is the face you wanted to see once you opened the door. It’s the same face. It didn’t change. 

  You’re so happy it didn’t change.

  “Lieutenant Colonel Mustang.” You greet lightly, unable to hold off the small smile that adorns your face. It’s hard keeping up the decorum when your nose is filing cabinets daily rather than speaking and working with the officers like your co-workers usually do. But it’s even harder for you to keep the formalities in check now that your superior is watching you from behind his desk with a smirk of his own dusting across his lips. It flusters you- something that he notices all too easily as he tosses up an eyebrow at you. And so, with warm cheeks and a tight throat, you’re forced to address him once more. “I have the files that you requested.”

  Despite the fact that you want nothing more than to run away and hide now that you’re the object of his amusement. 

  Fortunately for you, he’s merciful. At the mention of the folders tucked beneath your arm, he leans back in his chair with a nod of approval. The motion allows for his jacket to shift ever so slightly on his body. And your eyes manage to catch a glimpse of a worn, white bandage wrapped around his neck and collarbone before you avert your eyes. You’re glad he’s back. But it doesn’t change the reports of what happened out there while he was out in the field. It doesn’t change what he experienced.

  It doesn’t change what you thought you knew to be true when there had been no sight of him for over a week.

  “And that’s why you’re my favorite. Timely as ever.” The sound his voice makes as his hum carries over the room has you shivering. The look in his eyes is too proud to let you hold the false hope that he doesn’t recognize what he’s doing to you. And his posture is too relaxed to say that he’s not below picking on you now that it’s after hours and you’re both alone. But you should have known that after all his time alone, he wouldn’t change. “Excellent work. I’ll take them on my desk.”

  Especially not towards you.

  You try not to let the praise affect you that much. You’ve been a secretary for the Military since around the time he joined. You’ve watched him rise through the ranks quickly. Sometimes from afar. Sometimes up close. But at the moment, you’re overwhelmed. More overwhelmed than you’ve ever been in front of any of your superiors- including the Führer. 

  Your throat is tight, and your mind is elsewhere. But could you be blamed? When the status reports three weeks ago said that he had gone missing after a fight with an unknown assailant, you thought for sure you would never see him again. But as you stand in front of him now, you realize that your hands are shaking. More than they did when you shook his hand and introduced yourself to him for the first time. More than they did when you were told to start preparing the paperwork for a Lieutenant Colonel who had gone MIA and likely died on the battlefield. 

  More than they did when you first heard that they found his bound- barely conscious but somehow alive. 

  Yet here you are, walking to the side of his desk with a handful of files that you can’t be bothered to understand why he would deem them more important than his rest and recovery right now. And yet here he is, rising to his feet and stepping out from his chair to meet you as you approach him.

  You’re swallowing your thoughts as you stop to stand a respectable distance away. You have so many questions. So many things you weren’t told because of your clearance. But you don’t ask any of them. You don’t ask any of your questions. You just avert your gaze from his face and present the files to him in the way that you were always taught. Back straight and standing tall. Using two hands and reading nothing that you know you’re not supposed to. You have so many questions, but honestly, you’re not sure you care enough about them. You’re not sure you care about them at all. You’re just glad he’s back. 

  You’re just glad he’s back.

  He takes the files out of your hands gently without another word. For a second, you stand there, eyes still down as you await the sound of him dismissing you. But it never comes. Instead, you stand at attention for a moment longer than the first. And then another one. And another one. And another. And another. And another. And another until finally…you decide to look up.

  And the sight you’re met with- it surprises you.

  Mustang stands with his back straight. Proud and strong as his head turns to the side and reads the documents you just passed off to him. And while you know you’re not supposed to, you couldn’t help but study his profile. The curve of his nose. The shape of his jaw. And the distant look in his eyes. The shakiness of his grip. The unsteady frown on his lips. The sweat beading at his brow. The uneasy-

  Another thud sounds. Light, but it’s not without its weight. Not without its bass. Half a second later, the sound of papers scattering in every direction fills your ears. And all too quickly, the sight of it too.

  “Colonel Mustang?!” You exclaim in alarm. You hadn’t even noticed the pile of papers slipping from his grip with your gaze and mind being elsewhere at the moment. Your look around you briefly- noting all the papers that had fallen. Luckily, things haven’t seemed to have traveled far. You spot a few by a couple of papers nearby the empty desks abandoned by his subordinates from the day. But most are still on or thrown around his desk. You try your best to remember all the places where the papers had fallen just out of view before turning back to address your superior and his health with the utmost brevity. “Is something wrong? Do you need me to call a doctor or your-”

  You lose the words on your lips. Except they weren’t lost. They were taken. 

  By your superior. By a Lieutenant Colonel. By the flame alchemist. 

  By a man once presumed dead as he closes his arms around your body and holds you like you’re the only thing that will keep him alive.

  And so not only do you lose your words. You lose your breath. It catches in your throat before behind swiped away at Mustang’s speed and strength. And not only do you lose your breath, you lost your thoughts as well. No longer do you think about the papers scattered around the two of you. No longer do you think about how you’re due to report back to your workspace soon. No longer do you think about anything. Anything that isn’t him. Because you know you shouldn’t.You know you shouldn’t do this. You know that you’re breaking all kinds of rules and formalities. You know that if someone were to open the door right now and see him holding you tight and holding you close, your positions could be in jeopardy. You know all this.

  But his breath against your neck is sending more shivers down your spine as he buries his head into your shoulder and he breathes in your scent. And his arms around your torso are so, so tight and so warm. And the body you’re pressed against? It’s alive. It’s alive. Is it well? You’re not sure. But all you care about now is that it’s alive, and that’s human, and that it's him. So you tell the years of training and traditions and rules and regulations to fuck off for just a minute. Just one measly minute.

  And you hug him back. 

  And he hugs you tighter. 

  And you hug him, just as tight.

  And he breaks. 

  Because he’s more than just your superior. He’s a full-bodied human. He might have more confidence than you. He might like making you feel shy and small in front of someone so powerful. But He has thoughts. He has needs. He feels pain. He fights against death. He’s human. And what’s wrong with giving someone a hug? What’s wrong with showing someone that you care? Because you do. You do care. You care so much. You care so much that it hurts.

  “I thought about you every day out there. I don’t know why but I…I just did.” His whisper is quiet and hushed against your skin. But you swear you can feel every single word he says as his lips just ghost above your skin. But you don’t respond. You just find a way to squeeze your arms around his shoulders just a little tighter. And you try to pretend that his words didn’t make your heart race in a way that only he’s capable of doing to you. He squeezes you tighter too. The warmth of his palms pressed against your body can be felt through your uniform. It makes you want to cry. “I’m sorry I called you out here. But I had to see you. I had to. I’m sorry.”

  “Colonel-” You begin, tears already dusting at your eyes but he doesn’t let you finish. 

  “Roy.” He interrupts. You breathe hitches, and his grip on your body adjusts, almost as if he’s afraid of you becoming a flight risk now that all bets are off the table. But you just let you sniffle you’ve been holding in fall out as your fist grabs at the fabric of his uniform with all types of fear and desperation. He relaxes into that touch of yours. He breathes a sigh of relief that doesn’t quite go well with your tense body. But he’s quick to finish what he started. Especially now that you’re holding him as much as he’s holding you “You can call me Roy when we’re alone. And forget about all the respect and superiority bullshit. I don’t care how many rules it breaks, I don’t want to ever see you salute me agai-”

  But you had something you need to finish as well.

  “I thought you died.” You cut him off in your own harsh whisper. The words come out clearer than you expected. Stronger than you had known yourself to be capable of. And more true than you had ever hoped. But you said it. You said, and it’s too late to take it back. Your heart feels heavy at the confession. Your tears start to roll down your cheek at the admittance. And when all is said and done, you almost can’t believe that it’s true. That you almost lost him. That you almost lost the man that had taken your heart so, so long ago. “I thought you were dead, Colonel.”

  And that he’s now in your arms, confessing that he thought of you. 

  “I know…”

  Even in his darkest hours. Even in his worst moments.

  “I thought you had died… Roy. I thought you were….”

   He thought of you.

  “I'm sorry.” He tells you.

  You want to laugh. You want to laugh as much as you want to cry. Who would have thought that this stupid long-term crush of yours would lead you here? But most of all? You just want to hug him. Holding him. Feeling him. His heartbeat. His breath. His warmth. His body. His everything. Because maybe if you hug him this tight, you’ll gain the courage to tell him the thing you’ve been dying to tell since you first realized that you had fallen for him. And maybe hearing you speak those words will make him say the words you desperately want to hear from him. Since the moment you knew this crush wasn’t going away. Since the moment you heard, he had gone missing and would soon be officially declared dead. And since the moment you had heard he was alive and well and waiting for you in his office.

  Or maybe…maybe you won’t say a word. Maybe you won’t say anything at all.

  Because maybe feeling your arms around his body is all that you need right now. Because maybe his arms around your body are all that he needs right now too. Because maybe there’s nothing either of you could say that is worth more than the touch of another when the sun sits low. The hold of another when emotions climb high. 

  Because maybe words work the best when they are spoken at all. Either way, You’re glad he’s back. You’re glad he’s here. You’re glad he’s alive.

  And for now, that’s more than enough.

[stressed-and-queer]

Hey, so here's a little story inspired by a prompt made by @aeagle624 (i really hope you like this)! I've never really done anything like this before and it was a fun challenge.

Prompt: A drunk Merlin finds himself in Arthur’s room, Arthur takes care of him. Merlin is very affectionate when drunk

The room was quiet, the only sound being Arthurs quill dragging across the paperwork that lay in front of him. Every so often Arthur would look out his window and see the empty streets of Camelot, well mostly empty. Maybe one or two people scurried past the town square. It was way too late for anyone to be wandering about, hence why it was so quiet. Also why Arthur decided that now would be the perfect time to catch up on his paperwork. Without the chattering of the townspeople down below, or the utter distraction that Merlin was for a number of reasons, Arthur could finally concentrate. Could finally focus on the important documents that he had yet to review, or that speech he was supposed to write. 

“Unhand me,” came a drunken shout from outside his door. It came from a voice the king knew all too well. He could already feel the annoyance start to rise as he put his quill down, the ink staining his wooden desk. Well there goes the peace and quiet he had had. 

There's a knock at the door, it wasn't loud at all, but Arthur still heard it. If he were asleep like he was supposed to be, he doubted he would have woken up from it. And that seemed to be the point, it was so obviously cautiously soft. Arthur stayed quiet for a moment, debating on if he wanted to speak up or just continue on with his paperwork. There's a laugh from the other side of the door, Merlin's laugh. 

"Stop it will you or we'll skip Arthur's chambers and go straight to the cells to sober you up," came a growl. Arthur sighed to himself as he put his head in his hands. Then came another knock, this one a bit louder than before and cut off abruptly. 

"Come in," Arthur said reluctantly, looking up at the door. He wasn't about to let Merlin spend the night in the cells, although it would probably do him a bit of good.The door creaked open, the light from the hallway seeping into his chambers. And there, in the doorframe, was a guard holding a very drunk Merlin. To be honest it looked like the knight was the only thing keeping Merlin from meeting the floor, with the way the servant was swaying.

"Arthur, tell this man to let me go," Merlin slurred, his accent a bit thicker in his drunken state. Arthur sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"How much trouble did he get in," Arthur reluctantly asked. 

"None," Merlin chimed in. Arthur glared at him, regaining focus on the guard.

"He's actually telling the truth, sire, he hasn't gotten into trouble yet. But he was talking to one of the dog statues in front of the castle. I was going to take him to the cells to sober up but one of the guards said you'd have my head if I did that so I brought him here," the guard explained.

"He has his own chambers, you know," Arthur growled, glaring at the guard. The guard shifted uncomfortably, his grip on Merlin's arm tightening causing the man to let out a soft "ow". 

"Sorry sire, I'll bring him there now" The guard apologized, bowing his head.

"Wait," Arthur said reluctantly, raising his hand. 

"He's already here so why bother. Let him stay," Arthur said and the guard nodded. He let go of Merlin, who rubbed his arm where the guard had been holding him. As he stumbled into Arthur's chambers, the guard closing the door as soon as he could, Arthur sat back in his chair and took a better look at his manservant. His hair was a mess and his jacket was gone, leaving him in his blue tunic. He was wearing his red neckerchief at the moment, he had been wearing the blue one earlier in the day. Arthur chuckled at the thought of Merlin changing his neckerchief to go out to the tavern. The neckerchief was crooked, tilted a bit too far to the left. 

Arthur got up and went over to Merlin as he saw him sway. As comical as it would be to see Merlin fall flat on his face, Arthur just wanted to get back to his work. The quickest way to do that was to help Merlin to his bed and to keep him away from any important documents that could possibly be ruined. Merlin smiled at him as Arthur grabbed his arm and draped it over his neck, wrapping his own arm around Merlin's torso as he led him over to his bed. 

"What're you doing outta bed," Merlin asked as they stumbled, his hand gripping Arthurs side. He rested his head on Arthur’s shoulder, leaning into Arthur as they walked. 

"What're you doing so drunk," Arthur retorted, Merlin sitting down on his bed, nearly sinking in. 

"Gwaine, took me out to have some fun," Merlin smiled, resting his head on Arthur's pillows. Arthur rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath, because of course it had been Gwaine who had gotten him this drunk. He wasn't even surprised, the knight had an insatiable love for mead that Arthur just couldn't understand. 

"Just how much did you two have to drink," Arthur asked, part of him afraid of the answer he may get. Merlin frowned as his brows furrowed in thought. He started to count on his fingers before shaking his head and counting on his fingers again.

"I don't know, I lost count after like…5," Merlin says, his voice raised in question. Arthur takes a deep breath, making a mental note to talk to Gwaine about taking his servant out to drink. He watches as Merlin hiccups, nearly falling backwards as he does. Arthur shakes his head, turning around and walking towards his desk to finish his paperwork. Arthur picks up his quill,using his shirt to clean up the ink that had spilled from the quill when he had set it down. 

It doesn't take long before the sound of the quill scratching on paper fills the room. Arthur picking up where he had left off. There's the sounds of sheets rustling and Arthur only glances at his bed to see Merlin laying down. His head sinking into the pillows, one hand down by his side the other up near his head. His knee bent to the side and his head looking towards the window. The man doesn't look comfortable though, and the sounds of the sheets rustling once more as Merlin tosses his body in an attempt to get comfortable confirms that.

Arthur blocks out the noise easily enough, keeping his eyes focused on the paper in front of him. Currently he was working on a speech he was to give in about a week or so. The Kingdom of Camelot celebrating the new alliance they had made with a kingdom in the north. Usually this was Merlin's job but the servant hadn't the time to get around to it, so Arthur had to write the speech himself. He knew whatever he wrote would inevitably be rewritten by Merlin anyways, but just in case that didn't happen, he was prepared. 

He was halfway through the second page of the speech when he noticed the rustling had stopped. He glanced at the bed, expecting to find Merlin out cold by now. To his surprise, Merlin was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him intently. Arthur blinked, the two sitting in a moment of silence.

"What," Arthur asked, setting his pen down in the ink pot. Merlin blinked, waiting a moment before shrugging. Arthur nodded his head slowly, not knowing what he expected from the drunken servant. He attempts to go back to his work only to find that he can feel Merlin's eyes on him. Feel his servant watching him so closely. Being a king, he was used to having eyes on him, watching his every move. It shouldn't bother him but this….somehow this was different. It made him want to squirm in his seat for some reason. 

"Merlin, just lay down," Arthur says, and to his surprise, Merlin does just that. He falls backwards on the bed, his head hitting the pillow and his arms stretched out wide. And Arthur finds that with Merlin's eyes off of him, he can work again. 

"The dog called me a bitch you know," Merlin says with a frown. Arthur's eyes widen from this seemingly random outburst. Until he remembers that the guard told him he was seen arguing with the stone dog statues outside the castle. 

"Oh did it now," Arthur says, feigning interest in his voice. His eyes never leave the paper but he finds he's only half as focused on his work as he was before. The other half was curious as to what Merlin was going to respond with.

"Yeah. Called me other mean things too! I was about to show him," Merlin says with a huff. 

"Oh I bet you were," Arthur says, playing along. He's glad the guard got him when he did, he didn't want to see what a fight between a drunk Merlin and a stone dog would lead to. No matter how entertaining the idea seemed.

"Was about to punch him," Merlin continues. Arthur looks up from his papers, side eyeing Merlin in disbelief.

"You would punch a dog," he asks.

"It was being mean to me," Merlin says in a whine. There's a pout on his face as he sits up and crosses his arms.

"Uh huh," Arthur says slowly, reminding himself this is a stone dog they were talking about. He shakes his head, wondering just what he’s gotten himself into allowing a drunk Merlin to stay in his room. Arthur gives up on writing this speech, finally admitting to himself that he was going to get nowhere with Merlin around. He turns in his chair so he was facing Merlin, who was still laying down in his bed.

“C,mon Merlin, let’s get you comfortable,” Arthur says, standing up and walking over to his closet. Merlin, literally, rolls out of bed, Arthur turning around with a start as he hears a thump to see Merlin laying on the floor.

“Merlin,” Arthur says, the concern leaking from his voice. Merlin looks up at him with a lopsided smile and lets out a chuckle.

“I’m fine!” He says. Arthur helps him up, muttering under his breath as he wraps Merlin's arm around his neck to give him stability. Sober Merlin was clumsy enough, Arthur dreaded to see drunk Merlin try and walk on his own. Merlin leans his head on Arthurs shoulder, leaning into him as the two make their way to Arthurs closet.The king opens his closet, grabbing his white shirt off the rack and closing the door.

It’s now that Arthur realizes that Merlin is refusing to let go of Arthur. His hand grabbing at Arthurs side as if they were trying to do some weird side hug. His fingers gripping the shirt tight, Merlin making a whine in protest as Arthur tries to get him off.

“Merlin, you do realize you’re going to have to let go so I can dress you,” Arthur says.

“I don’t want to let go,” Merlin whines, burying his face in Arthur’s neck. The king finds the heat rising to his cheeks at this action. Merlin has never been this affectionate with him before, and Arthur finds he isn’t completely opposed to it. His heart skipping a beat as Merlin nuzzles his neck, he can feel Merlin's breath on his skin, making goosebumps pop up on his neck. His blush only deepening as he realizes certain feelings rising to the surface. He shakes his head, pushing those feelings down as he pries Merlins fingers off of him, successfully removing Merlins grip from him. Merlin pouts as he stumbles backwards, his arms crossed in protest.

Arthur reaches his hands to the back of Merlins neck so he can untie his neckerchief. Merlin's eyes widen, a soft blush filling his cheeks as he bites his lips. Arthur notices his eyes glancing downwards, lingering before his eyes reach Arthurs. He smiles, a giggle escaping him.

“What’s so funny,” Arthur asks, finally getting the knot undone. 

“I was just thinking about what it would be like to kiss you,” Merlin replies, wrapping his arms around Arthur and pulling him in for a hug. Arthur can feel Merlin rest his face in his chest and he finds himself frozen in his place. His hands gripping Merlin's neckerchief in his fingers, his face heating up as his mind races with what Merlin just said. 

“I bet your lips are soft,” Merlin continues.His hand moves upwards, his thumb grazing Arthurs lips. Arthur's eyes widen, a blush spreading on his cheeks from the intimate touch. Those feelings he had just pushed down threatening to come back up to the surface. 

“Merlin,” Arthur begins, not knowing what else to say. Merlin hums in response, looking up at Arthur with a smile. Arthur clears his throat, looking away from Merlin for a moment.

“Lift your arms, I'm going to change you into something more comfortable,” He says, peeling Merlin off of him. Merlin stumbles backwards, lifting his arms up as Arthur grabs the bottom of his tunic, lifting it up and over his head.He tosses it on the bed, sliding the white shirt over his head and helping his arms get into the sleeves. Arthur takes a step back, the shirt fits loosely on Merlin,the sleeves went just past his fingertips. But, Merlin looked comfortable and that’s all that mattered to Arthur right now. 

“There. I’ll go tell one of the guards to get a glass of water so your headache isn’t so bad in the morning,” Arthur says, going to his door, he's speaking to the guard when he feels arms snake around his torso from behind  and a head resting on his shoulder. The guard looks from him to Merlin.

“He’s drunk,” Arthur says as an explanation.

“I see,” the guard says, slowly nodding his head. Arthur closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“If you tell anyone about this,” Arthur begins, a threat in his voice. 

“Your secret’s safe with me sire,” The guard says and Arthur can hear the slight amusement in his voice. 

“Just…go get me that water will you,” Arthur says with a groan.

“Of course, sire,” the guard says with a bow. Arthur closes the door, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Arthur, I wanna lay down,” Merlin says.

“Then go lay down,” Arthur replies.

“I don’t want to lay down without you,” Merlin whines. His grip on Arthur tightens as he hides his face in Arthur’s back. Arthur lets out a big sigh and looks down to the ground. 

“Merlin,” He says with a bit of force in his voice.

“Please,” is all Merlin says. It’s short and just barely a whisper but the word reaches Arthur’s ears and he knows he’s lost. 

“Alright,” He says softly. Merlin smiles as he lets out a soft “thank you” which causes Arthur to smile. He lets go of Arthur, making his way to the bed and laying down in it. Arthur follows him, feeling the familiar softness of his sheets as he lays down. He hasn’t noticed how tired he was until now, His eyes growing heavy as Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur, pulling him close. Arthur doesn’t even think about it, he wraps his arms around Merlin and rests his head on top of the others. He’ll blame that on being tired in the morning. What his mind will be focused on is the soft kiss he laid on the top of Merlin's head, how it felt to have him in his arms and how it made him smile. 

“Arthur,” Merlin mutters just as Arthur is about to fall asleep.

“Yes Merlin,” Arthur hums.

“I don’t know if it's the alcohol or not, but I think I may have feelings for you,” Merlin says and it’s as if the world stops. Arthur doesn’t know how to process those words that echo in his mind. He opens his mouth to speak but finds that no words come out. He lets go of Merlin and sits up, Merlin looks at him confused.

“Have I said something wrong,” He asks, leaning up on his arm. 

“No Merlin, it’s just,” Arthur begins before pausing. 

“We’ll discuss it in the morning,” Arthur decides.

“When you’re sober,” He adds. Before anything else can be spoken there’s a knock on the door. 

That must be the water Arthur thinks to himself as he gets out of bed. Merlin reaches for him as he gets up.

“Don’t worry Merlin, I’ll be right back,” Arthur says, going to the door and opening it up. Sure enough, there’s the guard with a glass of water in his hands. Arthur takes the glass of water and nods his head in thanks, closing the door. He turns around to see Merlin already sitting up in bed.

“Here, drink this,” Arthur says, handing the drink to Merlin. He keeps his hand on the glass, making sure Merlin doesn’t drop it, but also to make sure he doesn’t drink it too fast. 

“There, now your head won’t hurt as bad in the morning,” Arthur says when Merlin is finished. He sets the glass on the table next to his bed, glancing over at Merlin just in time to see him yawn. He climbs back in bed, Merlin already reaching for him. Soon, they’re back in eachothers arms without even a second thought from Arthur. Arthur can’t help but think about how much he likes this, laying down for bed with Merlin in his arms. It’s confusing really, the feeling it invokes has Arthur rethinking about every interaction with Merlin he’s ever had, including the time he tried to take his head off with a mace.This newfound feeling has him viewing those memories in a different light, trying to pinpoint exactly when the feeling first started. He looks down at Merlin who’s fallen asleep in his arms, his mouth parted and his breathing even. He takes a deep breath, wondering how one man can cause him so much confusion. Part of him even wonders if allowing Merlin to stay with him was a bad idea. If he had allowed the guard to take Merlin back to his chambers like he had suggested, none of this would be happening. There would have been no drunken love confession that made him question everything. 

But it did and there was.

And Arthur could deal with it in the morning. For right now, as he held Merlin in his arms just a bit tighter than before, he allowed himself to close his eyes and fall asleep.

[switchbladedreamz]

My Choice

LOOK AT HIS FUCKING SMILE OH MY GOD

Pairing: Teacher!Logan x Teacher!Reader

Rating: R bc too many swears for PG-13

Requested?: nope

Summary: uuuuuh not fluff and not really angst? Logan gets rejected but it'll buff out bro I swear, wanting to make this into my first series so please be gentle. Let me know what you think in the comments and reblogs!🩷🩷

PLS REBLOG TUMBLR ONLY RECOGNIZES REBLOGS IT HELPS BLOGS GROW. K THANKS ENJOY THE FIC BYYYYEE

~~~~

"How do you think the Phoenicians would interact with-" the bell shrieks interrupting me. "Alright that's time, class, dismissed. Have a great weekend!" My small class of fifteen students scrambled out of their seats, rushing single file out of the classroom. Eager to end their day. A couple desks were left askew in the rush for the door. Sighing, i walk over and fix them. There's a presence at the door and a swift two knocks. I look up to be greeted with Logan's hulking frame in my doorway. A smile on his face. "Hey teach, got a minute?" "If you don't mind that I pack my stuff up real quick, yes i do. What's on your mind Mr. Howlett." I pay him no mind as I cross the room in three steps. "How many times do I gotta tell ya, you can call me Logan". I 'hmm' in response, my focus on packing away my lesson plan. The mess of papers strewn about my desk are picked up and sorted before i put them away in my desk. The top drawer squeaks shut, soon to be juxtaposed by Logan's deep voice. "I uh.. was wondering if you would want to get a drink tonight. With me. Greet the weekend the right way." Did I hear that right? I look up at him, he's serious. It makes me laugh. Clearly not expecting this reaction, the look on his face is befuddled. "Logan ..I'm worth more than a couple cheap beers and a good fuck." I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk past him out of the door. He stands there, stunned. Has he never been rejected before? Not to say I wouldn't go out with him. God I'm practically in love with the man. But I owe myself more than to be, well for lack of a better term, another notch on his belt. His heart belongs to Jean as we all are annoyingly aware. Why should I hurt myself like that for a man. Halfway up the staircase, trying to get to my room, I can hear his weighted footsteps and the creaking of the wood before Logan speaks up. "Hey Y/n wait a second." I wait until I'm standing in the hallway at the top of the stairs to reply. "Yes Mr. Howlett?" "Cut it out with that mister shit.." realizing he sounded a little gruff he clears his throat and adds a quiet "..please.. And can I ask if you still want to grab a beer with me? Just friends?" "I don't like to drink and I have papers to grade. Have a good weekend." I turn around and swiftly walk to my room which sadly is right across from his. 'I can not believe i just turned him down. Twice! Oh my god what have I done? I could've just blown any and every chance i could've had with him. Fuck. Fuuuuck. Fuck!' The anxiety roils in my gut like a swarm of angry bees. I did good by putting my best interests first. I tell myself over. And over. And over. And one more time just to be sure.

For the next three hours I am hunched over the desk in my room grading my students work for my ancient history class. H.I.M. is playing somewhere in the background. Ville Vallo is doing his best to quel the increasing frustration that comes with being a teacher and not understanding how they aren't understanding what I'm trying to teach them. My focus is interrupted by an obnoxious dying whale call emitting from my stomach. I rest my head in my hands, letting my frustrations ease and the music flow while i shift my train of thought from work to food. I stand up from my chair and stretch the day's muscle aches away. I pause my music before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

Hank and Charles are animatedly chatting about... physics? I can't really tell, they're talking too fast. An open bottle of gin that is a third of the way gone is the probable explanation for the passion and animation which they express themselves with. I open the fridge and survey my options. A silent "fuck it" mumbles from my lips before grabbing the jelly. And then the peanut butter, bread and a butter knife. Another pb&j for dinner won't kill me. "Ah Y/n you know I heard you rejected a certain...wolfish man..twice today. How did you ever accomplish that given your....feelings?" Charles' words are always calculated. Maybe slurred a little by the bottle of alcohol sitting between him and his company. Of course he's already heard about it. "Well Charles, hi hank" he lifts his hand and waves. "I'll tell you what i told Mr. Howlett "im worth more than a couple cheap beers and a good fuck". I wanna date the guy, be with him, not just another fuck and then we're awkward with each other in the hallways. Hell no." Charles looks at me..admirably? "Thats what I've always admired about you, Y/n. You stick up for yourself no matter what. You're right you do deserve more than that. Hank and I were just discussing the possibilities of the multiverse. Care to join?" "All due respect, fuck no. Science hurts my brain, that's why I teach history. Now if you fellas would like to discuss the outcome the Compact Theory had on Jacksonian Democracy I'd love to, or even trade routes of the Phoenicians or Alexander The Great and his many many Alexandria I'm all ears. But I suppose I could sit and let you enjoy my company" i giggle at my own joke. I stride to the table, sandwich in hand and sit down. "No no no, I think I'd rather talk about how in love with The Wolverine our newest history teacher is" Hank flourishes his hands when mentioning Logan's moniker. A ditzy smile on his face to match the haze in his eyes, clearly a little more intoxicated than Charles is. "ugh please im not in love with the guy, i just have feelings for him. No one else sees how sweet he is, in silent ways. And he's patient with his students. The jackass is only a jackass as a coping mechanism because he thinks if he has friends they'll all hate him so he hates them and himself before they have a chance. Is it fucked up logic and self-destructive? Absolutely. Does it make me want him more? Fuck yes. Did I chew myself out for rejecting him? God knows I did. But I'm the only motherfucker that's gonna take care of myself and as much I want him to be the man that I see, that I know he can be.. it's not gonna happen." The intoxicated men guffaw at my response. "You're telling me you see his potential." ..."Yes. What's so wrong with that?" "Y/n the man won't live up to his potential in probably another 200 years. When we're all gone and all he has is..hopefully, this place." "Well jeez Chuck that was dark" "forgive me, I was a tad bit morose. But still. I suppose i do understand you denying yourself the one night of fun over years of heartache. It's romantic." At this I scoff. "Whatever you say man." I get up and grab two sodas from the nearby pantry. Why they don't keep them in the fridge, I'll never understand. I grab a glass and some ice from the freezer and take my seat. I pour mine in my glass of ice, the other i split between Hank's glass and Charles'. "To make the alcohol come back up easier in the morning" they laugh at my explanation and thank me.

"I thought you didn't drink" the deep voice from behind startled me with a jump. I turn around and there he fuckin is. In all his beauty. The warm kitchen lights cast a smooth glow on his face. Black tank top, black jeans..that stupid native skull with a headdress belt buckle. And that jacket. The only item of clothing that doesn't look like it will shred itself apart from his body with the slightest of movements. "I don't. Its soda. Chuck and Hank however..." I trail off, my head jerking back to the friends/coworkers behind me. Laughing their asses off at my expense ..and Logan's, I can tell. Asses, both of them. He only grunts. God what I wouldn't give to have him gru- Charles gasps, the alcohol numbing his control over his powers..or he's just being nosy. "Y/n those thoughts are unbecoming of a lady of your stature" he slurs. I roll my eyes. "What's he talkin about?" Logan asks. "It's nothing." I quickly try to cover up the topic and try to change it. "So how was the bar?" I try to be friendly. Despite my rejection earlier I do still want to be friends with the guy. "Yeah? What do you care?" Ouch, I totally earned that. He rolls his eyes and begrudgingly sits next to me. I can feel annoyance rolling off of him. "Its fine. Friends?" His eyebrow quirks up with his head turned toward me slightly. I smile and take the olive branch. "Friends." Hank and Charles clap and 'woo'. 'friends! Friends!' they drunkenly cheer.

~~~~ Logan's Point of View

I'm sittin at the bar, puffin on a cheap cigar. Some old country song sets the ..ambience. Nursing the same glass of whisky I've had for an hour. I just don't feel right tonight. I feel a hand on my shoulder. Maybe Y/n decided to join me afterall. I turn in my stool, disappointed to see a shorthaired red head. Not Jean and definitely not Y/n. "Hi handsome, this seat taken?" She cocks her head to the side gesturing to the empty stool next to me. Fuck it, I'll bite. "Please, by all means". She's pleased with this if the small smile on her face means anything. "You come here often?" A dull line. Before I can answer the bartender comes over "Leave the man alone Carmila, my customers don't wanna pay for what you offer." Oh. So that's why she's here. I get up, pull my wallet out and leave a $50 on the bar. "For my drinks and hers. See ya next time bub." I throw back the rest of my drink and leave the empty glass on the bar. Done with this place. The girl doesn't bother to chase me outside. I ride over to the nearest gas station, fill up my tank and make it back to the mansion in no time. Another night wasted at the bar instead of being wasted at the bar. Walking into the front door I can hear faint laughter. The laughter leads me to the kitchen, from the hallway I can tell who it is. And those asshats are talkin about me? Is that gin I smell?

"...rather talk about how in love with The Wolverine our newest history teacher is.."

'What the hell is Hank on about? Beast never could handle his alcohol. He'd be the damn town gossip if he ever drank outside of this place. Ah what the hell, I'm buzzed, I'm bored, and those assholes in there are talking about me so why shouldn't I listen?...just for a little bit.'

I heard Y/n laugh, man I wish it was me making her laugh and not those bozos. "-m not in love with the guy," ouch. "I just have feelings for him." 'Woah woah, what the hell?' "No one else sees how sweet he is, in silent ways. How he's patient with his students. The jackass is only a jackass as a coping mechanism because he thinks if he has friends they'll all hate him so he hates them and himself before they have a chance. Is it fucked up logic and self-destructive? Absolutely. Does it make me want him more? Fuck yes. Did I chew myself out for rejecting him? God knows I did. But I'm the only motherfucker that's gonna take care of myself and as much I want him to be the man that I see, that I know he can be.. it's not gonna happen."

'aaaaaah shit-fuck..i fucked up. Now she thinks I'm a worthless ass who just thinks she's meat. I just wanted to show her a good time, and have a good time. I respect her and it's time I showed her that respect. Especially now I know she just turned me down out of respect for her own self worth. Thats fuckin rare. It makes me want her more. To hell with it, Jean made her choice. Now it's time I make mine.'

The next words I hear sting. I know Charles is just drunk but hell I like it here.

~~~~ back to Y/n's Point of View

'God Logan is so close he smells so good. Usually I hate the smell of cigars but fuck he makes it so tantalizing. It's like the man sweats in manly yankee candles' Charles once again laughs out loud at seemingly nothing. This causes everyone around the table to eye each other suspiciously. I stare at my soda, watching the bubbles trying to not be suspicious. "I think it's time we get wheels to bed before he hurts himself." Logan chides in with a smirk. Thankfully taking the heat off of me. Charles gets in a huff rightfully and calls Logan an "ableist immortal whose only contribution to society in the past two hundred years is all the bullets he's taken for the country" what a catty bitch, i respect it.

The walk to my room feels like forever. Walking past my desk I can't help but glare daggers at the papers mocking me from their neat pile. '..Later.' I told myself. Grabbing a sleep shirt from my dresser and new underwear, i cross the room and enter my bathroom. Grabbing my fluffiest towel, because self care, I turn my shower on and my speaker. Continuing the goth rock playlist from earlier Black Veil Brides' "Lost It All" is serenading the bathroom walls. The hot water releases only the first layer of tension in my shoulders, it's enough. I stay under the water for 15 more minutes until I've decided it's time to get out. Back to the evil dry world.