#heart beats. write privately and please share me

[risherrd]

#heart beats. write privately and please share me

[queers-gambit]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

browse the Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[luveline]

could you please write something where maybe bombshell!reader hears one of the team members teasing about how she’s torturing spencer and she kinda backs off with the flirting and maybe it’s his turn to hold her hand and call her cute names because even though he always says he doesn’t mind, maybe he does and he just doesn’t want to tell her

tysm for requesting, 1k

Spencer's hair is brown silk in the sun. You bite your tongue to hold in a compliment rearing to come out, saccharine and completely true. Looking sweet, Spence. 

You love to compliment him and especially while Hotch is out of earshot. He and Derek play pairs against two agents from a different unit, their tennis racquets a shiny FBI navy. You start to speak and bite it back —a memory flashes, a shouting stop sign. 

You'd been teasing Spencer as he left the room, something about his indecisive hair. He's cut it shorter but left his curls without product, and you love it. 

Poor guy, Emily'd murmured, lips set against the rim of her coffee cup. 

What's the matter with him? you asked, perplexed. 

Nothing, just that he spins into a total meltdown every time you guys are within ten feet of each other. He must be exhausted.

She was joking and you know that, but something deep down worries she's right. It's not fair for you to keep winding him up… Especially when Spencer might be going along with you because he isn't sure how to say no. 

What if you're forcing yourself on him? 

You're sitting together on a small blanket in the grass with Anderson and a few of the other less competitive BAU agents. You bring your bottled iced tea to your forehead to cool down, condensation wetting your hot skin. The top of your head feels as though it has the full concentration of the sun beating against it. 

Spencer looks up at your movement. He's been reading a book for pleasure, or so he says, so he isn't going a mile a minute but he's still way faster than the average Joe. "Do you want to go find some shade?" he asks. 

"You look comfortable," you say, putting your iced tea aside.

Which is to say, I don't want you to come with me, it would disrupt you. Spencer nods and turns to the brown leather of his familiar satchel, popping the buckle open to dig around inside. 

"Do you think this would be okay?" he asks, bringing out his baseball cap. 

The fabric is starchy and the brim stiff as you accept it and wedge it over your head. You don't immediately cool, but your heart spins strange loops. "Thank you," you say. Thank you, handsome, gorgeous, baby, all beg to be said. 

Spencer stays looking at you for longer than normal. 

"Do I have something on my face?" you ask, swatting self consciously at your cheeks. 

"Nothing. You look really pretty," he says. 

"Thank you." Another loop. You point at his book, fingertip hitting a creamy page with a small thud. "Is this any good?" 

"I think you'd really like it, it feels like that last book I borrowed from you, and you loved that. They're very similar. I can lend it to you when I'm done." 

"Don't rush it for my sake."

Spencer gives you a private smile. "I won't. Just because you could watch a movie at two times speed doesn't mean you should." 

Your returning smile isn't half as nice. No shared lightness, no bright eyes. You're feeling awkward and unhappy —you really like Spencer. Like, you think you could be happy together for a long long time sort of like. He's charming and sweet and no one is ever as kind to him as he deserves, which is why you're trying to be kind now by putting distance between you.

You'll be brash forever. You can't change that, and Spencer doesn't need the stress of dealing with you, not on top of everything else. 

His smile fades as yours does. Quiet, without fuss, he scoots back on the picnic blanket, putting you knee to knee. The subtle muscle of his arm presses to yours and his hand wraps gently around your wrist as he dips his head down, his cheek touching briefly to your shoulder. 

"I know it's nice, but if the heat is getting to you we should go inside," he says, his fingers sliding across your palm to slot between your own. He squeezes your hand. "Heat stroke isn't obvious at first. Do you feel woozy?"

You stare at your twined fingers. He surprises you again, being this soft with you, and being uncharacteristically forward. Or maybe not uncharacteristic at all; Spencer won't let something like timidity stop him from comforting someone that needs it. 

"Spence," you murmur, closing your eyes, face angled down. 

"What?" 

"I'm sorry if I… If I've been messing you around. But I don't think this is a good idea." 

"What's not a good idea?" 

You can't make yourself say it. Instead, you rub the back of his hand, more for your own comfort than his, your tongue like a useless lump in your mouth. 

"You're sorry? Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asks, no heed to the people sitting with you as he lets go of your hand to put his arm behind your shoulder like a shield. 

"I don't want to torture you," you say. 

Your friends love that word. You torture Spencer with your flirting and your easy affection. 

Spencer makes a face, eyes squinting and nose wrinkled. "They're just kidding when they say that. Emily, Morgan, they like making fun of me, it's like, sibling bonding or something. They don't say it because there's actually something to feel sorry about." He lowers his voice, bashful but sincere at once, "If you're torturing me, I guess I'm a masochist." 

You laugh without thinking, a breathless, girlish sound you'd regret if you had the wherewithal. "You're a masochist?" you ask. 

He takes the brim of your borrowed hat and pushes it up to unobstruct the view of your eyes. 

"If that's what it takes," he says. A hint of wryness creeps into his otherwise smooth tone. 

Despite his brave talk and his steady eye contact, his face has started to blush. A rosy hue kisses the tops of his cheeks and his nose, a dusting of pink splodges stark against his paleness. The curve of his lips seems extra tantalising now. He's very, very pretty. 

And he doesn't mind stepping in to take the reins when you're unsure of things. 

"We really should sit in the shade for a bit," he says. "Let's get drinks from the gazebo. Yeah?" 

You're halfway through a nod when he kisses your cheek too quickly for you to respond. You follow him to the gazebo without any more reluctance, weaselling your hand back into his, and attempt to pull another kiss from him.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

The Bath Tub.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here.

authors note - this photo is making me go feral and please be aware that this is my first time writing something like this so please be gentle with me :)

word count - 2k

in which, your looking for your husband backstage at his concert, and get directed by a crew member that he’s in his dressing room. things get heated the second you walk into the room, and there’s nothing like a quick quickie in the bathtub.

As you stand backstage at Wembley, the excitement and anticipation in the air are palpable. Your heart flutters with both nerves and pride, knowing that your fiancé, is about to grace the stage and captivate thousands of adoring fans. You can't help but feel a sense of overwhelming love for him, the man who stole your heart and filled your life with joy.

As you wander through the backstage area, you spot Harry's manager, Jeff, bustling about, coordinating last-minute details. With a warm smile, you approach him and ask, "Hey, Jeff, have you seen Harry? I wanted to wish him luck before the show."

Jeff looks up from his clipboard and smiles back, "Oh, hey! Haz in his dressing room. He's just getting ready."

Thanking him, you make your way to Harry's dressing room, the excitement building with each step. As you reach the door, you hesitate for a moment, not wanting to intrude on his pre-show routine. But the thought of seeing him before his big moment is too tempting to resist.

You knock lightly on the door and then slowly push it open. Inside, you hear the faint sound of murmuring. Your heart skips a beat, wondering if you should come back later. But then, you realise it's Harry's voice, and he must be talking to himself or rehearsing.

As you step further inside, you notice that the bathroom door is closed, and the sound of running water fills the room. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you approach the bathroom door quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

The murmuring gets louder as you approach, and you can't help but feel a mix of concern and intrigue. You gently push open the bathroom door, revealing a sight that takes your breath away. There, in the bathtub, sits Harry, his head hung low as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, preparing for his performance.

You stand in the doorway, feeling a mix of excitement and affection as you watch him, sitting in the bathtub. The soft, warm glow of the bathroom room lights highlights the contours of his face and the tattoos that adorn his skin. Your heart flutters at the sight, and an overwhelming sense of love washes over you.

Water trickles down his bare skin, creating rivulets that trace the lines of his muscles. The tattoos, usually captivating, now seem even more prominent against his wet, glistening skin. Each design tells a story, a piece of him permanently etched into his body, and you find yourself admiring each one with renewed fascination.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, fluttering with excitement and anticipation. You can't help but be drawn to him, his presence magnetic and captivating. As he moves, washing the water over himself, you catch glimpses of his muscles flexing, and your breath catches in your throat. The way he cares for himself with such ease and grace only deepens your admiration for him.

The sound of water fills the air, mixing with the soft murmurs of his voice as he unconsciously talks to himself, preparing for the show ahead. It's a private moment, one that makes you feel privileged to witness. You realise just how lucky you are to have him in your life, to be able to share these intimate moments with him.

His eyes, the colour of emerald green, flicker up, catching you observing him. There's a hint of surprise, but it's quickly replaced by a warm and affectionate smile that tugs at your heartstrings. You offer a shy smile in return, feeling like a fluttering butterfly yourself, captured by his gaze.

As your eyes meet his, you quickly realise that Harry has caught you staring at him. A playful glint dances in his emerald green eyes, and a mischievous smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

He knows he has your attention, and he's clearly enjoying the moment.

"What’re ymlooking at, m’love?" he teases, his voice low and smoky, sending shivers down your spine. You feel a light blush creeping up your cheeks, but you can't look away.

You remain speechless, the words caught in your throat. Instead, you see him raise his hand, gesturing for you to come closer. A mix of nerves and excitement courses through you, but you can't resist his playful invitation.

Slowly, you step forward until you're standing beside the bathtub.

His eyes never leave yours, and he leans forward, his face now mere inches from yours. You can feel the warmth radiating off his skin, and you're tempted to close the gap between your lips, but he beats you to it. He plants a soft, lingering kiss on your lips, making your heart skip a beat.

With a flirty smirk, he pulls back slightly and asks, "Are y’just going t’stand there, or are y’going t’join me?"

You let out a nervous chuckle, feeling the butterflies in your stomach intensify. "H, I don't have any spare clothes to change into."

He raises an eyebrow, a playful glimmer still in his eyes.

"Who said y’need clothes?" he teases, running his fingers gently along your arm.

Your heart races, and you can't help but give in to the temptation. You slip off your shoes and start to unbutton your shirt, feeling a mixture of excitement and vulnerability. Harry's eyes never leave you, and he bites his lower lip, clearly enjoying the show.

You climb into the bath, sitting in front of him, facing each other. The water envelops you both, creating a soothing and intimate atmosphere. Harry can't help but smile as he watches you playfully accept his invitation.

With a sparkle in his eyes, he leans forward and pulls you gently onto his lap, your bodies close but still leaving room for comfort. Your heart races with anticipation as you feel his warm embrace, and you can't resist leaning in closer to him.

The moment your lips meet, a spark ignites between you. The make-out session becomes a dance of passion and affection, each kiss more fervent than the last. Your hands find their way to his hair, running through his damp curls, while his hands gently caress your back, sending shivers down your spine.

“Wanna have some pre-show fun?”he pulls away from the kiss, slightly breathless, your lips plump due to smacking against his ones, and you nod your head, as an answer to his question.

You felt his lips fall to your neck, peppering kisses against the skin there and making sure to leave a mark there. “Harry…we’re in…we’re in a bathtub.”

“And?”

“And?”you turned to look over your shoulder to the bathroom door, making sure that it was shut. “Someone could walk in.”

“I can be quiet,” he nips at your jaw, making you inhale a small breath at the action. “Can you be quiet? Can you be quiet for me, baby?”

His words made all the heat rush to your core, that was close to his cock that was hard, brushing against the inside of your thigh from where you were sitting on his lap.

You nodded your head at his words and that was when he lowered his hand down into the water and tickled the inside of your thigh, his knuckles dragging increasingly close to your ache.

“Fuck m’life,” His gaze lowers slightly, racking his eyes over your naked torso, pupils blown. “Your heavenly, like a fucking angel.”

The next words that leave his lips have you whimpering out.

“Y’so wet f’me.” He mused, and your surprised you didn’t lose it right then and there, his fingers work and run along your clit in small circles, eyes closing slightly at the sensation radiating through your body.

“Please don’t tease me,” you whisper, chest rising and falling, even though he had barely touched you. “I don’t want your fingers, there’s no time.”

“Yeah?”His fingers continue to tease between your legs as his head tilts to the side. “Where do you want me? Tell me where and I’ll give it to you, give you anything y’ask for m’angel.”

“Inside me,” you open your eyes and lean forward, he can feel your breath on the top of his nose, “Please H…inside me.”

He retracted his hand, and lowered it even further so it was touching his aching cock. He shifted slightly so the tip of it could be seen atop of the water, it was pink, completely rock hard and if you squinted you could see it ouzing with pre-cum.

He fisted his length a few times, warming himself up a bit more, before he lifted up your hips and lined himself up with your entrance, running it up and down your folds a few times in a teasing manner before pushing inside of you with a gaped mouth.

“Shit,” Harry was trying to be quiet but he had no control when it came to you. “You feel so good, baby.”

“Always feel so good for me,” he rushed out, hips thrusting in and out of you, eager to get you both to reach your climax at the same time. “Can never get enough of you.”

Your breath is laboured as you lean your head forward and pepper kisses against the skin of his neck, where his tattoo dedicated to you was located.

“Y’gonna finish soon?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded your head, feeling your legs starting to shake at the feeling of your impending orgasm. “Uh-huh.”

Your whimpers and moans are anything but quiet as you feel your fiancés thrusts becoming slightly sloppy. The water is splashing around the two of you, head thrown back.

He leaned his hand down and pressed it against your clit, making your eyes go wide.

“I’m close…”you told him, still bouncing up and down on his length. “I’m so close…so close.”

He pressed an open mouthed kiss to your lips that were becoming slightly chapped due to the humidity of the room. “C’mon lovie, come for me, give me what I want.”

And you didn’t need to be told twice.

You came quickly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the beginning of your fiancés orgasmy started to brew. It wasn’t long after you that he came inside of you, seeing as you were on birth control.

Small whimpers emitted from his lips at the rush he felt, his forehead falling against your shoulder.

“I love you.”

“M’love you too.”

A soft knock echoes through the bathroom door, pulling you both back to reality after your intimate moment. It's Jeff, Harry's manager, reminding you that time is ticking, and the concert is just moments away.

"Hey, whatever the two of you are doing in there, hurry it up! You've got to be on stage in fifteen, you animals," Jeff's voice teases from the other side of the door.

You and Harry let out small laughs, your foreheads falling gently against each other as you catch your breath. The playfulness in Jeff's voice reminds you of the world waiting outside this private space—a world filled with thousands of eager fans, eagerly anticipating Harry's performance.

"Alright, alright, we're coming out," Harry calls out with a chuckle, not the least bit embarrassed by the interruption. He glances at you, a tender smile gracing his lips, and you can't help but feel a rush of affection for the man beside you.

As you untangle yourselves and get out of the bath, you quickly dry off and get dressed, Harry wearing a black jump suit, with pink love hearts designed on it, not shirt on underneath, leaving his tattoos on show, still feeling the warmth of the intimate moment shared. The excitement of the upcoming performance now mingles with the sense of closeness you experienced in the bathroom, creating a unique mix of emotions.

Harry opens the door to find Jeff waiting, a playful grin on his face.

"Took you two long enough," he teases.

You playfully roll your eyes and nudge Harry's shoulder. "Blame him. He started it with his flirty looks."

Harry raises an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Oh, so it's m’fault now, is it?" he retorts with a grin.

You can't help but giggle, feeling grateful for the light-heartedness that surrounds you both, even in the midst of the nerves and anticipation. With the clock ticking, you grab Harry's hand, intertwining your fingers, and make your way out of the dressing room.

[tojivu]

Hey love, can i request the jjk men (or just Gojo tbh) taking care of their SO after giving birth? That would be suuuper sweet and thank you💙💙

father and husband ⋆ gojo satoru

gojo takes care of you after giving birth + other hcs

an. i'm not done with the long ass gojo fic so i'm finishing this draft first. sorry i do not know much about birth i am a teenager writing fanfiction after all...... my google search history might make my parents think i'm pregnant

cw. sfw, f!reader, not proofread, mentions of female anatomy, suggestive jokes at the end

playing. 17 by pink sweat$, ft. joshua and dk of seventeen.

"this is so unfair, 'toru."

the thick sheets the private hospital provided you with restrained you from sitting up. sunlight pours into the room through the spaces in the blinds — the ward is awfully quiet, much unlike your expectations.

"huh?"

you turn your head towards the leather chair situated next to your bed. it's a pale beige, clashing with the various blues this hospital decorates itself with — and with the white hair of the man you call your husband.

his hair falls messily onto the material. you furrow your eyebrows and wonder what has gotten into him; he's been much quieter than usual. this was not typical satoru behaviour.

your newborn baby was getting examined and you were told it would take a bit. your family wouldn't be coming down till tomorrow morning — something you didn't mind because you were so sure satoru, your loving husband, was just as prepared as you are for the birth.

"he's got your eyes," you mutter. the anxiety was really starting to kick in now; satoru was never this quiet. ever. your attempts at making conversation echo, and it's eerie how you could forget satoru was even here if you just closed your eyes. "satoru?"

you swear you see a thick bead of sweat roll down his temple. he sits cautiously, as if he is ready to spring up into action any moment now.

"i'm so scared, [name]." gojo's voice trembles and it bounces off the walls; you feel your heart skip a beat, only to pound harder the next.

SATORU starts bawling when he gets to hold his baby after the discharge. tears run down his face like two waterfalls, staining his sweatshirt. your baby looks at him with the most curious eyes, before shutting them and returning to a deep sleep.

he holds your son as if he's fragile glass, grip firm and careful not to slip — your fingers wipe the tears pooling at his waterline and gojo can't help but look at you with absolute adoration.

"please stop crying, 'toru," you smile up at the crybaby you call your husband. "you can't drive with tears in your eyes."

he tries to speak but nothing comes out. gojo's voice cracks before saying anything and he only manages to nod, handing the baby back to you.

SATORU who makes sure to help you with whatever you need, you just need to order him around. he's just as new to this parenting thing as you are, given you are the only woman he's ever loved — patience is needed with him as much as it's needed with you.

for example: satoru would never complain about waking up early in the morning to feed your son. he'd spring out of bed, nervous yet oddly confident. he was afraid of not being fatherly enough — so, this was a wonderful start. he was extremely elated when you asked him to do such a duty the night prior.

he slips out of the sheets and sees your peaceful face, lips parted and letting out small snores; gojo knew you needed the rest after all the sleepless nights.

"good morning," satoru's softly cooing at your son, careful arms scooping him up into his chest and out of the baby blue crib (that coincidentally matches both their eyes). your son only cries in response, much to satoru's displeasure.

your husband can't help but smile down at his child, before glancing over at you a few feet away; comfortably wrapped in your shared blanket.

"mama's asleep, so you're stuck with me." he mimics a pout, but words could not describe how happy he was. your son could only stare blankly at him, giggling when he presses a gentle kiss on his forehead. "sorry, not sorry."

although the baby doesn't bond with your husband that well (yet), his determination is unwavering. he makes sure to be nearby the bedroom — but not too far away, in case something goes wrong — so his cries don't wake you.

all goes well until gojo changes your son's diaper an hour later and gets pee all over his hands, that he rushes into your bedroom for help.

"[name], baby," he bites his lip out of worry, opening the door with his dry hand and calling for you. "he peed on me—"

you give him a thank you kiss for trying anyway.

SATORU who rubs your shoulders for you, or really any other body part ever — he's a weirdly good masseuse. you often find yourself falling asleep on the couch as he kneads your pains away.

"baby," he whispers.

you three were on the couch, watching a movie in the late evening. your groans don't go unnoticed, and he knows you've been holding your baby for quite some time in hopes of calming him down.

"psst, baby." satoru repeats, the arm around your shoulder tapping the flesh of yours. "aren't you tired?"

"a little," you sigh. "he might wake up if i put him down."

"nah," satoru caresses your shoulder gently. "put him down for a minute. i'll help."

"help?"

"did you know i give really good massages?" satoru smirks, "your husband's crazy talented, i know."

you raise an eyebrow. you've never heard of gojo satoru massaging people — you're a little skeptical, but put down your son in the bassinet next to the couch nonetheless.

the ache in your shoulder and back were a little too intense to bear, now. satoru could tell with the way you were shifting around in your position every 5 minutes.

well, all your doubt washes away almost as fast as it came — you find yourself knocked out on the couch for the next hour, your head against satoru's shoulder.

SATORU who makes sure to give you extra kisses and extra hugs during this period of change.

he understands how difficult it must be for you — although maybe not to the full extent, considering he doesn't have a uterus — but he wants to try, and try he does.

whenever you have baby blues, he's always there. he kisses the tears off your cheeks, wiping them away with his thumb and whispering soft praises in your ears.

satoru couldn't express how grateful he is to you for giving him a son to love, to raise with you. he can only attempt to say it in words and through kisses, although he feels that may never be enough.

"i-i'm sorry for waking you, 'toru," you sniffle, even if your body language screams the opposite — your head is buried in satoru's chest and he has his hands running through your hair.

"shh, it's okay baby — don't be sorry," he holds your body close to him with his other hand, tracing circles onto the thin fabric of your clothes. "i'm here."

other times, you break down while trying to take care of your son — sometimes the cries get too loud and overwhelming, and everything you do just seems to make it worse.

satoru hears your crying and he immediately rushes over (if he wasn't already in the room with you), taking your son from your hands and trying to calm him down himself. he'll press a kiss onto your forehead, using his free hand to wipe your tears away — and he'll tell you to let him take over.

"shit," he swears under his breath, rushing into the room and seeing your tear-stained face; satoru instinctively reaches for the baby and you hand him over. "let me do it, okay?"

you nod, desperately wiping your face with the sleeves of your hoodie — before satoru uses his right hand to wipe them for you, his lips planted on your forehead.

"i'm s-sorry," you mutter, feeling a little better when you feel the skin of your husband on yours. "i don't know what to do—"

"it's okay, baby," he smiles, tucking stray hairs behind your ears as you continue to calm yourself down; your baby is still crying, and satoru looks oddly calm as opposed to you. "let me take over for a bit."

sure, he gets overwhelmed sometimes; but he needs to be your glue in case you can't pull yourself together. even if he's clueless too, he has to be strong for you — he can imagine the chaos that would ensue if he wasn't.

when he puts the baby to sleep half an hour later, he returns to the bedroom to find you in bed: wrapped in a blanket with tissues in your hands.

satoru feels his heart break at the sight.

he climbs into bed with you and his arms find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him; his warmth feels like the medicine you've been needing this entire time, and it's almost as if all your anxiety dissipates.

"you did good today," his cold breath tickles the back of your neck, and you feel his nose bump at your nape. "i'm proud of you."

"it was all you this time," you reply in a hushed voice, throat hurting at the tears you were trying to keep in. "i don't know what i'd do—"

"no," satoru interrupts you. "i couldn't feed the baby this morning, and you did it instead — remember?"

"i remember. you knocked over the formula."

"mhm," satoru hums, his fingers intertwining with yours. "and you did it in only 2 minutes. you're too good at this baby thing, [name]."

"you don't seem so scared anymore, satoru."

you hear a laugh escape from your husband's lips. "thanks to you," and he's pressing kisses along the outline of your shoulder and neck. "i'm the strongest, after all — what can i not do?"

"you're the cockiest, too," you snicker, and you only earn a dramatic gasp from the man behind you.

"don't talk about cock with me right now."

your jaw drops slightly, before you flip your body over to face satoru's direction: he has an annoying smirk painted on his face. "you are so disgusting, satoru."

"you know you love me—" and just as satoru's leaning in for a kiss on the lips, cries from the nursery room erupt.

"man."

writers block is real i think

[i2ycat]

playing4u

pairing non-idol!heeseung x fem!reader synopsis college boy heeseung that dedicates his songs to u, plays the guitar for u and never fails to sing u to sleep whenever u want genre college au, established relationship in the second half, fluff warnings not proofread, down bad heeseung… main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

before u guys started dating

one thing about u and heeseung is that u both LIVE, LAUGH and LOVE music

picture this; u guys are at a music festival, probably something like head in the clouds

u’re singing ur heart out to niki’s set list (as u should) and heeseung, who was just beside u, happened to turn his head at ur direction

and GOD. FUCKING. DAMN.

boy was absolutely starstruck the moment he laid eyes on u, despite the scorching heat that rendered u a sweaty mess

he felt like he was in a movie

and he swore he felt his heart thumping faster and faster, which definitely wasn’t because of the bass or the crowd around him

he was too scared to ask for ur number right there and then, because honestly he’s highkey lowkey a loser…

he doesn’t have the rizz people think he has!

by the end of the night, he left the venue feeling defeated. the post-concert blues weren’t even hitting the way it should because all he could think about was u

in the next following days, he’s probably written songs about how he saw the prettiest girl but she got away, posting them on his private, for only his friends to see

“WHO IS THE GIRL.” jungwon drills heeseung for answers during a group game night at their dorm, which piques the interest of everyone else because when has heeseung ever shown this much interest in a girl, to the point where he would write literal SONGS FOR SAID GIRL??

heeseung describes the girl in perfect detail, from the colour of your hair to the tattoo u had on ur arm

“hey… isn’t he just describing y/n?” niki asks, trying to connect the dots with heeseung’s description of u and his own memory

“didn’t she post a story about head in the clouds a few days ago as well?? i swear i saw it.” sunoo adds as he pulls out his phone, “wait let me find her instagram,” and by this time heeseung could already feel the familiar rhythm of his heart thumping to the same beat it did on the day of the festival

“is this her?”

heeseung couldn’t believe his eyes. after all this time (it’s only been a week please), he finally was able to put a name to his mystery girl!

when i tell this man LEAPED when he found out that u both had mutual friends all this time… yea he was already down BAD.

more under cut!

after u guys started dating

it only took a month or two of talking for u to fall head over heels for heeseung

i mean how could u not when he’s so beyond perfect???

he’s never failed to pick u up from ur classes whenever he could, give u a shoulder to cry on when u were stressed about ur finals, and plan the majority of ur dates without u ever lifting a finger— u were his princess and he made very sure that u and everyone else knew it

because of ur joint interests in music, u guys would always send each other music that u’re currently listening to

“flo milli?”

“what? sometimes guys want to feel like a bad bitch too.”

other than sharing music, heeseung would 100% sing u to sleep whenever u ask for it… actually, atp u don’t even need to ask for it anymore because he already knows

u guys would be on the bed, and as his hands snakes around u to caress ur head lovingly, hee would start humming a soft tune

the vibrations of it lulling u closer to sleep

and when u actually fall asleep, he would kiss ur head goodnight and flick the bed lights off, tucking himself closer to u :((

before u guys even started dating, heeseung was already writing songs about u, so after dating, the amount of songs dedicated to and for u would only increase tenfold

he’d record them just for ur ears to hear

and when he’s letting u hear the songs he’s made, he always has this lovestruck smile on his face, eyes totally glossed over and heart in his hand for you take…

u’ve become his ultimate muse, his inspiration in all aspects of his life

u could tell just how much he loves you from the songs he makes— the melody, the emotions he sings with, the lyrics… all of it just screams that he’s totally head over heels for u

he would even let u have ur moment in his songs, either singing or just talking in the background… because he always wants to incorporate u into his art

when heeseung does decide to post the music he makes, he always makes sure to use ur photos as the cover because almost every song is about u and for u 😭 man physically cannot shut up about u

he’s talked all of his friends ears off ab how u cute u looked in his hoodie, how u pretty u were yesterday, and the day before that and probably tomorrow as well

there would be a point in time when u randomly mentioned that u found guys who play the guitar attractive and u know what heeseung did that day? applied for a guitar class, only to showcase what he’s learnt so far a few weeks later

“hee, i didn’t even know u played the guitar?”

“well i just started learning, like, 3 weeks ago.”

“and you’re already this good?”

“what can i say? i’m a determined man.”

© i2ycat 2024

[sky-is-the-limit]

Smut writers feel free to write this! (Feminine pronouns used but feel free to change it!) (+18/MDNI)

FYI: I'm not a writer nor good at this! Just thirsty:)

I had a filthy thought of being railed by Price in the common area outside the bathrooms and Gaz accidentally walks in 👀 (gifs below inspired me).

////

You were being bratty/needy as fuck even though you knew it was a hectic day, especially for him. At first you felt a little hurt that he brushed you off the first time when you started kissing his neck while he was signing some paperwork for the next mission. "Not now, doll. Can't you see I'm busy?" He murmured the last words almost as a whisper so you know that it's the work that's annoying him and not you.

"Come on, Captain, can't you take a little break for your girl?" You purred in his ear, hands slowly trailing down his chest over the tight military shirt he knows drives you crazy when he wears it (he was about to throw it away because it was too tight on him until he saw you practically drooling and being the lil shit he is, he started wearing it more often)

"Don't you have anything more productive to do, private, than bother your Captain?" Oh now it's on. His tone was serious as if he was scolding a child, making you stand up straight, rolling your eyes at his typical way of treating you when you're 'overstepping'.

"You weren't complaining this morning about my productivity, Captain." You reply to his dismissive comment, full of sarcasm, crossing your arms over your chest as you make your way in front of his desk. "In fact, you were quite content with my mouth on your c-" a knock on the door makes you take 3 steps back, a playful smirk on your face as you watch Price take a deep breath trying to process both your boldness and someone almost walking in on you, talking about your forbidden affair with him.

"Uh, is this a bad time?" Kyle awkwardly says, holding the door open not daring to walk inside, obviously uncomfortable from the staring contest you and Price share, neither backing down.

"No, Sergeant, private Y/L/N was just leaving." Price mumbles with a raised eyebrow, only turning his gaze towards the door for a second then back at you, indicating that you have to leave before he actually gets mad.

On your way out, you briefly touch Kyle's arm, give him a small smile before exiting Price's office. You know John is a confident man. In his skills, his work, the way he carries himself with authority in every room he steps in. The only thing that makes him feel uneasy is when younger men try to steal your attention. Not because he doesn't trust you, he knows that the second he asks for you to get on your knees, you comply better than any soldier he ever had to command to follow an order and he always praises you for it.

"Look at my eager girl, so desperate to please her Captain huh?"

"Eyes up when you take me in, I want to stare into those pretty eyes, soldier."

"You can't be disrespectful with your mouth full, now can you?"

The insecurity that you could fall for a younger, charming man always creeps in his mind yet he pushes the thought away, cursing himself at the possibility he might have stronger feelings for you than just the physical pleasure you two share almost every night.

/

10:30pm. You've been staring at the clock on the wall an hour now, waiting for the right time to come. You know Price always goes into the showers at this exact time, every single night before he goes to sleep as the showers are always empty. Exhausted soldiers and staff always in bed by then, leaving the luxury of a quiet, warm shower to himself.

You step into the common area timidly, checking if anyone's around but as expected, you find it empty and cold like it always is this late at night. No sound but the water running inside the nearest shower and the fast beating of your anxious heart as you slowly strip naked. It scares you how bad you want him, how he's your first thought in the morning and the last before you fall asleep. How you, a strong, independent and confident woman can feel so fragile, so desperate to please his every desire, how the second he asks you to go to his room, you waste no time, trailing behind him like a lost puppy. It's pathetic really, but for him? You'd do far worse.

With nothing but a towel wrapped around your naked body, you slowly push the curtain of the shower back, taking in the full sight in front of you. Yeah, you'd do anything for him and he knows it. He doesn't even flinch or turn around, he knows it's you. It's always you. You can see the smirk playing on his lips before he speaks with that husky, deep voice that makes your knees go weak, every fucking time.

"I don't fuck you one day and you come running to me, hm?" Price turns around slowly, eyeing you up and down before his fingers touch the top of the towel, softly caressing your skin. "Desperation looks so fucking good on you sweetheart" He leans closer to whisper in your ear before his fingers make the towel drop on the wet floor, the cold air sending a shiver down your spine as he pushes you gently out of the shower, to the nearest wall.

"I left my girl all needy and now I have to make up for it, don't I?" He whispers on your neck as his lips leave wet, sloppy kisses on your burning skin. Before you can lean back onto the wall to enjoy his attention, he places his hand on your back and with a swift move, pushes you in the common area. The look of surprise on your face as you turn to look at him must be the best entertainment he has had the last couple of days.

"What if someone walks in? Can't we go back into the shower?" You grab the nearest towel but before you can wrap it around yourself, he backs you up against the cold table in the middle of the room, both his hands placed on each side of you so you can't move.

"You wanted to sneak up on me and couldn't wait until I finished my shower." You open your mouth to answer with a pathetic excuse you know damn well wouldn't work on him but his hands cut you off before you even try, lifting you up from your thighs onto the cold steeled table. "You know it is the only time I get to have some peace and quiet but you being the greedy little slut that you are, couldn't wait a few more minutes huh?" He raises his voice, tone changed into the one he always uses when you're being a brat and fuck, you wouldn't want it any other way. The smirk forming on your lips and the intentional roll of your eyes must have pressed a button as he pushes your shoulders down so now you're laying on the table, feeling his hands trail down from your waist to your thighs, pushing them open.

"Now you're gonna get fucked like you want so bad, out in the open. If you behaved nicely, you'd be laying down on a soft bed but you decided to be a brat tonight" His grip tightens around your thighs, certain to leave bruises, as he lowers himself so his head is inches away from your soaked entrance, his eyes piercing yours, not breaking eye contact like his life depends on it.

"And you're gonna get treated like one." With one quick move he puts both of your legs on his shoulders, dragging you across the table, the cold metal and unexpected action letting a loud moan leave your mouth before you cover it with your palm in an attempt to stay quiet, unsuccessfully so.

"What the-" Oh fuck. You freeze in your tracks as a second voice comes from behind the lockers, making you jump up immediately. Your terrified gaze slowly meets Kyle's equally frightened eyes as his mouth hangs open to the sight in front of him, frozen in place with only a towel wrapped around his waist. You knew it was risky, just because the showers were always empty around that time, didn't mean that an exception was out of the question. It just happened to be tonight.

"I'm just gonna- fuck, I- bye" Gaz mumbles quickly, the confusion of this unfortunate, awkward encounter visibly written on his face but before he can walk out, so you can die comfortably in shame, the next sentence makes your blood run cold.

"Not so fast, Sergeant." Price commands, his expression unbothered if not unsurprising, like he wanted this to happen. He wanted someone to walk in.

"You're gonna sit on that chair and you're gonna watch how brats like her deserve to be treated."

[runnning-outof-time]

At the Last Possible Minute | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @acewritesfics

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Shocked by Tommy's decision to go fight in France, (Y/N) holds all of her emotions in until the last possible minute.

Warnings: mentions of going to fight in war

Word Count: 3068

A/N: I’m sorry it took super long for me to write this, Ace, but here is the original idea that I had for the story that then became ‘The Good I’ll Do’. I used the prompt ‘what’s going on in that head of yours?’ from the list you shared ages ago … I guess this came in perfect time for your one year anniversary of your account - thank you for all of the amazing fics you’ve blessed us with. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"I'm sorry I'm late, I...goodness, what's the occasion?" (Y/N) stopped her initial apology to comment on the number of people inhabiting the living room of the Shelby family's Watery Lane home. Almost every seat in the room was full, and if (Y/N) hadn't noticed their solemn expressions, she would have thought that there was a celebration happening. "Has something happened?" she asked, her brows furrowing together in confusion.

No one said anything outright, instead exchanging glances at one another. The silence was making (Y/N)'s heart rate quicken by the second. And then she saw Tommy. He was wearing an expression that she'd only seen a handful of times over the several years that she'd been friends with him, the last being when he told her of his mother's passing. Seeing it made her stomach drop.

"You should be the one to tell her, Tom," Arthur mumbled privately to his brother, but (Y/N) was able to hear him due to the quietness in the room.

"Tell me what?" she couldn't help but ask, her worry rising by the second.

Tommy looked at (Y/N), his mind reeling as he tried to think of a way to break the news to her. He watched her expression become even more dire with each second that passed. It was breaking his heart. After what felt like ages, he finally spoke: "come with me, (Y/N)," he said to her, extending his hand in her direction as he approached her.

"To where?" (Y/N) asked another question as she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the stairs. "Tommy...what's going on?" she asked as they walked down the small hallway of the second floor, confusion now present in her words.

"I wanted to tell you in private," he began, opening the door to his bedroom and leading her over to the bed that sat tucked in the corner so that they could both sit on it.

"Tell me what?" she continued to try to pull answers out of him, hating that it was taking him so long to tell her what so clearly was serious news.

Tommy inhaled deeply, holding his breath for a moment as he tried to collect himself. He exhaled it slowly before he took her hands into his. "I love you, (Y/N)..."

(Y/N)'s heart dropped at the sound of his voice, and she immediately thought the worst. "What's going on, Tommy? Please stop beating around the bush and just tell me," she urged him. She figured that if he was going to break her heart, might as well rip off the bandage.

"Me brothers and I have signed up to fight in France," he told her, his eyes not straying from hers as he spoke.

(Y/N)'s mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to collect her thoughts. She was well aware that she probably looked like a fish out of water, gasping for breath, but she could care less. In a way it did feel like she was gasping for breath.

"Can you say something?" Tommy asked her after a few moments - that felt like decades - had passed, his voice filled with concern.

"I...I can't think of anything to say," she decided to state the obvious, her mind still reeling from his previous statement.

Tommy sighed as he looked to the opposite wall of the room. He didn't know what type of response he was expecting from (Y/N), but getting no sort of specific reaction outright was really messing with him. He loved her more than anyone in the world, and having her be at a loss of words made him want to question if he made the wrong choice in enlisting. It was too late now...their papers had been turned in, and they would be shipping out to France by the end of the week.

"When do you leave?" she broke the silence with a quiet question, her words making his eyes snap over to meet hers again.

"The end of the week," he answered her, watching intently for her response; hoping that she'd say more than a five word sentence.

It was (Y/N)'s turn to look away when his response hit her ears. To say her mind was reeling was an understatement. She couldn't even begin to think of something to say, and it pained her because she knew that Tommy was looking for her to put what was going on in her mind into words. The problem was that she had no words for it...there were no words to explain what she was feeling at the moment.

"You're going alongside John and Arthur?" she asked another question. Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but was unable to get a word out. "I'm sorry for asking all of these questions, Tommy, I just..." she cut into his response before trailing off and letting out a sound of exasperation, becoming slightly frustrated at the fact that she couldn't even think of a place to start with her thoughts.

"It's ok, (Y/N)," he told her, squeezing her hand that she'd just realized he was still holding, "this wasn't an easy decision to make."

"Then why did you make it?" she was quick to ask, the words coming out before she could think them over.

Tommy just about flinched at the pain that was present in her words. "Because we didn't want to have it made for us. They were going to draft us anyway. If we enlist, it's on our terms," he gave an explanation as to why they'd made the decision.

"You may not have gotten drafted this early though...we could have had more time together," (Y/N) pointed out, her voice becoming shakier with each word she said.

"We'll have more time together," he assured her.

"That can't be promised," she reminded him. There was never any certainty when it came to war...the both of them knew that.

"We'll have the rest of this week," he pointed out, trying to look on the bright side of things.

"Yeah," she agreed with him, trying to put a smile on her face. She was able to, but it quickly faltered, and Tommy said nothing but instead sent her a sympathetic look in response. He began to open his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by (Y/N) before he could get a word out. "Why don't I help you pack now? So that you're not overwhelmed with work as the time gets closer," she blurted out an idea, and immediately felt dumb for having suggested it. You're in the middle of a deep conversation...would he really want to get started on packing? Come on, (Y/N)! she yelled at herself, mentally facepalming. What a way to make things go from bad to worse!

Tommy searched her face for a moment, trying to pick up on any possible cues. (Y/N) held her breath as she watched him do this, hoping that he wouldn't want to continue prying into her thoughts on the news he'd given her. He finally nodded his head after a few moments passed. "Yeah, we can do that," he reluctantly added, finally dropping her hands from his hold.

An awkward silence entered the room as they stood from the bed to move over to where his wardrobe was. Nothing much else was said between the two as (Y/N) got the few outfits that Tommy owned out of his wardrobe and folded them so that they'd fit in the compact suitcase. Tommy didn't do much to help. He instead stood back and racked his brain as he watched (Y/N) go through the motions; trying to think of some way to continue the conversation they'd abruptly ended on the bed. Her answers weren't sitting right with him, it was obvious that she was hesitant about it all - who wouldn't be? - but he needed to know if she herself was ok. It was one thing to be upset about the situation, but another completely to be upset in general. He didn't want the latter for her.

But nothing else was said between the two for the entire time they spent in the bedroom. (Y/N) felt the weight lay heavy on her chest as she followed Tommy back downstairs. The living room had cleared out a bit, and sympathetic looks were given from those who stayed as the couple entered the room again. Everyone knew exactly what had happened in the room. Polly decided that she was going to get started on dinner, and (Y/N) agreed to stay around and join the family for the meal. The topic weighing on everyone's mind wasn't discussed for the remainder of the evening as each person tried hard to think of other things to speak about...the elephant in the room didn't go unnoticed though, you could see what each person was thinking about clearly from the look on their face.

This was going to be a long week.

——

Tommy's promise of he and (Y/N) having the rest of the week to spend together didn't quite turn out the way either of them wanted to. Both barely spoke to each other or spent much time together as they practically threw themselves into their work to try to avoid the inevitable.

Tommy was working hard to make sure that Polly had everything she needed in order to continue the family business when the brothers went away.

(Y/N) took up longer hours at the clothing shop she was hired at, knowing that spending too much time with Tommy and the rest of the Shelbys would make her heart hurt in ways that she wasn't ready for. It was hard not to think about what was awaiting them at the end of the week when they were together.

As much as they didn't want it to, the weekend finally came. Polly made the boys join her at church one last time so that she could pray for their safety and well-being. After that, she and Ada prepared one last meal for the family to have together before the brothers were due at the train station. One person's absence was duly noted though...(Y/N) hadn't showed up at the Watery Lane household despite Tommy inviting her over. His worry grew more and more as it got closer to the time he would be leaving, and he wondered if he'd be seeing his love before he got shipped off to hell.

(Y/N) couldn't bring herself to leave her bed. She knew what Tommy was doing today; knew that he wanted her to be there when it was time, but no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't get herself up and moving.

It wasn't until the clock struck four that she finally managed to bring herself to a sitting position. There was only one hour left until Tommy's train would leave the station. She didn't leave the bed though, and instead just stared at the clock on the wall as it ticked away slowly, taking away the minutes that she could be spending with her love. Why hadn't she left the bed yet?! Why couldn't she bring herself to?!

Something awakened inside of her when the clock struck 4:30. She threw the covers to the side and rushed to put some decent clothes on. Caring less if they looked orderly, or even matched, she grabbed a pair of shoes from the corner of her room before quickly working to make sure her hair looked decent. She didn't want to make it that obvious that she'd just rolled out of bed to run to the train station.

Thankfully the station was close to her family's home. She took off running the second her feet hit the pavement, and she didn't stop until the crowds of people saying goodbye to their loved ones came into view. Her chest started to hurt as she got closer to the station, and she wasn't sure if it was because she was getting closer to what she'd essentially been avoiding for the entire week, or if it was because she'd just sprinted over here.

She slowed down once she hit the edge of the crowd, and she began the process of slowly walking through the throngs of people and looking everywhere for the man she wanted to speak to one last time. It was a tedious process, but it proved successful the moment she spotted a dress she couldn't miss anywhere.

It was one that she made for Polly for her birthday a few years back; when she was just getting started with her career as a seamstress' apprentice. It was made of a darker, floral pattern, and as the years passed, (Y/N) told Polly several times that she didn't need to wear the outfit, but the older woman ignored her and continued wearing it.

To (Y/N)'s relief, Ada, Finn, and their three older brothers - who were now dressed in their uniforms - were standing beside Polly. She wasn't too late. "Tommy!" she called out, hoping that he'd hear her over the buzzing of the crowd as her feet quickly took her in his direction.

He did hear her though...he would hear her anywhere, and in a second, he was turning around to look in the direction of her voice. As much as (Y/N) wanted to freeze and marvel at how his hair looked now (he'd only wore it without it being styled a handful of times, no matter how much she pestered him and told him that it made him look even more irresistible) she resisted the urge and continued walking until she was able to hook her arms around his neck and hug him tightly. He responded to her embrace by holding onto her waist, feeling like a heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulders now that he was able to see her before he left.

"Look at your hair, Tom," she whispered once she stepped out of the embrace, her hands going up to run through his locks, "I've told you that you look so good with it like this," she continued, smiling as she tried to keep her tears in and not address what was happening around them.

"I didn't do anything to it because we're going to get it cut when we reach the front," he told her, his response bringing her back to the reality of it all. Her smile faltered a little when she heard it, and her eyes searched over his face so that she could commit it to memory and be able to remember it as she went for days without him. "Hey...what's going on in that head of yours, love?" he asked her, bringing her out of her head and back into the world around them, looking at him properly to see that his eyes were locked onto hers as he waited intently for her answer.

"I..." she paused for a moment. Come on, (Y/N), you can't go back to this now! she yelled at herself as she stood with her mouth parted slightly, watching as the light left his eyes more with each second that passed. Say something! "I...I'm proud of you, Tommy. I'm proud of you and I'm proud of what you're doing," she finally got out, her eyes hooked onto his as she spoke. "And I'm sorry that it took me so many days to come to terms with that...I was just so scared at first of what was going to happen with us and with everything, but I'm so, so proud of you," she added, every word she said coming straight from her heart. The slightest smile formed on Tommy's face as he heard what she had to say.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he said to her before he pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers, kissing her with a passion that almost swept her off of her feet.

"Last call for the five o'clock train! Boarding will end shortly!" the ticket-taker announced as the couple broke away from each other, their chests heaving for air as they came down from the high they were just wrapped up in.

"That's me," Tommy whispered against her lips, his eyes searching hers.

"I love you, soldier," she breathed, smiling at him as she ran her hand down his cheek, feeling the softness of his skin one last time. "Stay safe for me," a somber smile graced her lips as she ended speaking.

"I will, love. I promise," he assured her, pulling her into a final hug before he brought his hands up to cup her cheeks and kiss her one last time.

(Y/N) wanted to hold onto him forever, but she knew she couldn't, and she slid her hands down his forearms before dropping them to her sides as they pulled away. She then took a step back then to fall in beside Polly, who immediately wrapped her arm around the younger woman's shoulders. "I love you," she mouthed to him, watching as he held eye contact for a moment longer before bending to pick up the duffel bags he'd be bringing with him.

He made his way over to the ticket-taker then, having his ticket punched just as the conductor called out 'all aboard' and blew the train's whistle.

(Y/N) watched him as he glanced over his shoulder one last time before ascending the stairs into the traincar and vanishing from sight. She swiped away the tears and held onto Polly tightly as everything was cleared from close by the tracks so that the train could embark on its journey to France. She tried to smile as the engine fired up and began pulling the cars, but it quickly faltered as all of her emotions came crashing down on her.

These next few days, weeks, months, were going to be tough, and she knew that there'd be no getting around that. She was happy, though, that she was able to see Tommy one last time before he left to fight, and that she was able to tell him how she felt...even if she waited until the last possible minute to do so.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Hi there! How are you doing? I just recently found your account and LOVE it! Thank you for sharing all your stories! I particularly loved the head cannons for clingy Roman and comforting Roman!

After reading the comforting Roman one, I had an idea for some more head cannons or a story (truly whichever you prefer if you want to write this idea). But maybe something along the lines of standing up to Logan somehow and defending Roman? Seeing him so hurt and vulnerable because of what his father said broke my heart and I definitely think he needs someone in his corner, privately and publicly!

Thank you so much if you do write something around this idea, but please don’t feel pressured to if it doesn’t spark any ideas. I hope you have a fabulous day/night! 💛

In My Corner

Roman Roy x Reader

Oneshot

this is literally the sweetest request I’ve ever gotten so it went to the top of my priority list. I’m doing okay, thank you so much for asking!! I hope you’re amazing <3 you don’t understand how much it means to me that you enjoy what I write and that you love it!!! it makes me so happy!!! any request or idea you have, I promise, will give me ideas. I’m so grateful I have people like you enjoying and reading my work!! It’s one in the morning for me, so I’m sorry I can’t make it longer… but enjoy! I love you rita, thank you for requesting xx

also just a general psa, if there’s never any specific pronoun/reader gender detail in the request, I’ll default to fem/female unless I can access your profile, to which then I’ll just use the requester’s pronouns/gender. enjoy!

Word Count: 2.181k

Married life was all you could’ve ever dreamed it would be. It was more.

Roman had surprised you with how quickly he’d committed to you and you solely. He’d told you, the night of your wedding, he knew you were it for him from your first official date. That even if you dumped him, hated him, threw him out, he’d be yours. He’d never remarry, he’d never even look at another woman.

You’re the only thing that brings light to his life. You radiate warmth into him. Being around you is being by a fire in the dead of winter up on Mount Everest. In quiet conversations in the middle of the night, the two of you tangled together in bed, he’d admitted he’d kill for you. Lie for you, commit crime for you, it was all the same to him. You are what brings meaning to his life. You’re an absolute in his world of probabilities. His anchor, his rock, the love of his fucking life.

Neither of you ever take off your rings. You’d both made sure to get metals that wouldn’t rust with water and had high durability just so you were never without them. If Roman was a shell of a man before he’d met you, he’s a god now.

Late nights at the office, he has a thing of chocolate for you clutched in his hands as an apology. Untoward women flirting with him despite his very obvious marriage (he endlessly speaks of you to anyone and everyone), his hand is on your hip, his lips on yours. You’re sick? He’s taken the day off to stay with you so you’re not suffering on your own.

On the off chance you both have days off and the energy, you’re out and about. Arcades, carnivals, anything so he can see you laughing and smiling and so fucking glowy. If you’re happy, he’s happy. You’re the most important thing in his life. In between your occasional excursions, he’s Googling how to beat carnival games, he’s practicing Flappy Bird, just so that when you do go out, and your eyes catch on a particularly cute plushie, he can get it for you and watch your face light up and feel the universe grace him with heaven.

If there was anything that came with being married that you didn’t like, it was his family. Maybe not Kendall, nor Shiv. Both were kind to you, and Connor didn’t come round anymore. You couldn’t blame him.

Roman’s your husband. You know him, you know what upsets him. And nine times out of ten, when he’s crying, it’s because of his father.

Usually so bubbly and relaxed, when he was upset, he was upset. He was unable to function. He ran to you like a moth drawn to light. He’d gone so long not knowing how to cope; you were only just now helping him learn how.

“Roman, where’s that cream sweater of yours?” you call out to him. He was washing his face in the bathroom, the two of you getting ready for dinner with his family. Waystar shenanigans, as he’d put it. But you knew that truthfully, it was deeper than that. More terse.

“Hell if I know,” he calls back.

“Then what’re you going to wear?”

“No clue.”

You tsk, instead crossing over to your side of the closet to pick out an outfit. “Just no weird color combinations, for fuck’s sake.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he says, not bothered, strolling into the closet. He pinches the small of your back as he slides past you, going to look through his clothing. “What color are you wearing?”

“It’s going to be really cold, so I was thinking cable knit. Or should I just wear a turtleneck and slap a jacket over it?” You hold both options up, turning to face him. This was routine for you both. Strangely enough, he loved matching with you, and you both regularly help each other dress.

“You’re already shivering. Wear the sweater.” He comes to you, plants a kiss on your lips, then turns back and tugs his shirt off over his head. He manages to find another sweater, slipping it on. It’s the same color as yours, and even though he’s done this countless times before, your heart warms. Once you’re both ready, you’re in the car that was sent for you. You grip the bridge of your nose with your fingers, taking a deep breath as the car gently jostles you as you’re driven. Roman scoots over in the back seat, where you both are, so that your sides are pressed together. His hand slides over your thigh, rubbing gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say truthfully, dropping your hand and looking over at him. You smile, meeting his eyes. You adore him. It’s evident in your gaze, and it’s mirrored in his. “Just bracing myself.”

He leans over, kissing your cheek.

Roman grips your hand tightly as you go up in the elevator.

You stick a fake smile on your face and step out into the light to greet Marcia. She air kisses both your cheeks, then Roman’s, greeting you both. You both make your rounds, hugging, kissing cheeks. You pretend to steal Iverson’s nose, to his delight, and he runs to his father, tattling on you with a massive grin on his face. Kendall just smiles at the both of you, the exhaustion slightly lifting from his features.

You go say hello to Greg, who’s happy to see you. Out of all the Roys, save for your husband, Greg’s the one you got on with the most. You were both in the same situation. You were both considered outsiders, yet still apart of the inner circle, still concerned with all the plotting and scheming and drama.

He gives you a hug, and you duly note that Roman’s being taken aside by his dad. You turn your attention back to Greg, making sure to keep an ear strained for anything that might go wrong. You chat idly for a bit, and you get the sense that everyone in the room is doing the same thing you are. You can feel the tension slowly spreading. Something’s wrong. And if it’s not, it will be very soon.

It doesn’t take very long.

Logan’s voice is booming through the townhouse, and everyone gathered quickly silences.

“What do you fucking want me to do, then, Roman? Roll over and let you fuck me?”

You and Greg wince in unison. “Are they still arguing over whether they should sell?” he asks you quietly. Frown starting on your face, you nod.

Waystar wasn’t the only company the Roys had control over. There were conglomerates on conglomerates of other companies, the most problematic of the bunch causing massive monetary issues- among others. It was an ethical disaster, and the lawsuits were beginning to pile up on top of each other.

While the general consensus was that the company should be sold, and quickly, Logan was stuck in his ways and took it as personal offence. Specifically with Roman. You couldn’t even begin to make up some lame reason as to why. They’d gotten into countless arguments over it, Roman doing his best to convince his father that if this one company went down, it was going to take a lot down with it.

You give Kendall a look, and he pushes himself up from his seat on the sofa and follows the direction of their voices. Shiv follows shortly after.

At dinner, everyone is white knuckling their silverware. Under the table, you let your leg press up against Roman’s. His entire body’s taut, and he’s staring down into his plate. You eat silently, the chatter around you awkward. You and Shiv murmur to each other about a new restaurant opening up down the street, making unofficial plans to go together when you could.

Of course, the moment you’re feeling at ease again, Logan decides to ruin it.

“Roman, you want to tell the table how willing you are to stab your own father in the back? We can’t just not talk about it.” He chews before speaking again, voice ringing. “Don’t you think your wife ought to keep her eyes open?”

You bite down a retort, Roman bristling. “Come on, Dad. Don’t bring her into this.”

You’re silently hoping that Shiv, Kendall, anyone steps in. Points out how wrong this is. How hypocritical, just how fucking ridiculous it all is.

“You know what, Romulus? I’ve let you do as you please for far too long.” You look up from your plate, on the brink of shock. You just can’t fathom the idiocy. “It’s time the world knew that you’re a cheat, you’re a liar, and you’re fucking rotten to the core. It’s time you stopped showing your face around here, like your brother.”

Your husband opens his mouth, then closes it, flabbergasted. You can see the tears rushing to his tear ducts, you can practically feel the tightening in his chest.

That’s it. You can’t. You can’t fucking handle this anymore. You get up abruptly, your chair making a garish, grating noise against the marble floor. “He’s right. We shouldn’t come here anymore,” you say, voice steady and clear. Your voice is raised, your tone firm. “It’s time we left, Roman."

Logan drops his utensils, the silver clattering against the table. “What’s the hurry? At least finish up with dinner.”

The heat immediately rushes to your face, and you can’t suppress the anger anymore. “Are you fucking senile?” you yell, Roman quietly getting up to stand beside you. “Enough is enough. Stupid fucking Pyros and it’s stupid fucking issues! You run it like a prison, your profit is nonexistent, and it’s being sued by every law firm under the sun. There’s a right decision you can make, but your head is too far up your ass for you to even see it. Go ahead, let shit hit the fan! Let the entire fucking family fortune get snatched away from you because of one measly company! And by all means, bully Roman over it, despite the fucking fact that every single person in this room agrees with what we’re saying.” You’re the one bristling now, the words spilling out of your mouth. “We’re not coming back. I’m going to the press first thing in the morning. You’ve been doing too much for too long. You’re nothing more than a piece of shit, Logan. You wouldn’t know a good son if he fucking punched you. Fuck off. You don’t deserve someone like Roman.”

Roman’s out the door before you are. Face still flushed and adrenaline still pumping through your veins, Roman helps you into your coat, you grab your purse, and you’re out in the chilly New York air, waving your arm for a taxi.

The ride home is silent, his head leaning on your shoulder.

Back at home, you kick off your shoes at the door, your stomach still in knots. “I’m sorry,” you manage, watching him shuck his jacket off and toss it into the coat closet. “I should’ve… I should’ve kept my temper in control.”

“Sorry? Sorry for what?” He comes over to you, his hands going to cup your hips and pull you close to him. “You’re the only one that’s been in my corner. Ever. My entire fucking life. You deserve a fucking medal.”

You kiss him gently, quickly. “It just made me angry.”

“I’m going to quit,” he tells you lowly, hand coming up to your jaw. He strokes your bottom lip as he gazes at you. “I’m going to quit and we’re going to run off to whatever place is the farthest from here.”

You steal another kiss from him before responding. “Let me ruin his fucking life first, okay? Pretty please?”

He laughs, pulling you into a hug. “Oh, only since you asked so nicely.”

You’re both giggling as you collapse on the couch together, the dinner already forgotten. That’s how you know he was meant for you. Nothing mattered but him. The world could be burning around you, and Roman Roy could be smiling, and everything’d be fine because he was happy. That meant all was right in the world.

You cuddle up to him, his arm coming to drape over your shoulders. You hook your arms around his waist, tucking your face into his chest.

“You know,” he begins, “with corners and stuff, that’d make you a boxer. Or a wrestler.”

“Wasn’t that your analogy?” you ask, laughing lightly.

“Well, yeah. Doesn’t stop you from being a fuckin’ champion.” His voice wavers, the way it does when he’s on the brink of sleep.

“Fucking cheese ball. Go to bed.”

You both share a long, loud, laugh. It’s far too late at night for this. Apparently, his father was fucking nocturnal and only had meals past ten.

“You know you love it. You love me,” he murmurs groggily, barely still clinging on to consciousness.

“Yeah. I do.”

[mvrtaiswriting]

Hi there! May I please request some headcanons of Zoro and what he looks for in a s/o, as well as any fluffy romantic headcanons of him with his s/o, please? Thank you so much for your time! Take it easy.

Love potion - how to win Zoro's heart.

Hi! Thank you so much for trusting me with your request! I enjoyed writing this, Zoro has a special place in my heart. I hope this meets your expectations, my writing is a bit rusty at the moment due to all the uni work i'm doing and this is just what i needed to get back on track! I hope it makes you smile :) x

warnings: none! super fluff. gn! reader.

feel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee.

Curiosity starts tickling his brain when he notices his usual intimidating demeanour doesn't work on you; if anything, you find it funny. He notices how you laugh when you catch him and Sanji bickering, even if he is threatening to slice the poor love cook into julienne strips. And he likes it more than he would ever admit.

The key to Zoro's feelings lie within his struggles. The main way to gain Zoro's respect is by being a fighter - and sometimes, this just means beating him at his own game, defeating his small god complex. This can often involve sarcastic remarks in response to his venomous teasing, showing him you can fight well enough to knock him down during a training session. Zoro always recognises the abilities of his opponents - so once you tame his ego and demonstrate that you are just as formidable as he is, he will gladly welcome you into his heart (secretly).

Zoro falls in love when he realises you aren't too different from him. There is a sense of familiarity to you that mesmerises Zoro every time. He wasn't sure why - he didn't know if it was his influence or just some innate traits you had. A calming sensation washes all over him whenever he notices that your movements effortlessly mirror his. It makes him feel understood.

Everyone can tell that the swordsman is in love when he enjoys your company during moments he usually prefers to spend alone. He shares his silence with you, a solemn confession of what he truly feels. You're the only one who he allows close to him.

Once in an established relationship, it takes a while for Zoro to fully adjust to it. At first, he feels like nothing has changed, really - he feels just as jealous, just as protective. The butterflies haven't left his stomach since the first time he saw you smile - they're still flying around, batting their wings together and making him visibly blush.

Zoro is not really fond of PDA - that doesn't mean he isn't affectionate, he just prefers to keep it private, discrete. When you're walking around, exploring a new island, he doesn't mind holding your hand - although, most of the time, he only intertwines his pinky with yours, nothing more. However, he likes it when you sit on his lap; so much, it's something you can't escape. As soon as you reach the dining table, his hands are quick to wrap around your waist, slowly guiding your body and eventually making you fall onto his lap. It makes food much more enjoyable this way - even sake tastes better, according to him.

Zoro is a great listener, and he has a peculiar attention to detail. He remembers everything you told him, from the silliest childhood story to the most meaningful thought you shared with him - he treasures your memories so dearly, he almost carves them into his mind. Because of that, he showers you with gifts on a regular basis. Whether it's a piece of clothing or a diamond, if you made a comment about it, he will get it for you and casually leave it on your bedside table, nicely wrapped. He doesn't make a big deal out of it, he just loves the look on your face when he manages to surprise you. There's nothing Zoro wouldn't do to make you happy.

[scarletttries]

I Can Read You Like A History Book (Steven Grant Request)

Pairing: Steven Grant (Moon Knight) x Reader

Rating: Explicit (Gender neutral pronouns through, a little bit of teasing but mostly just sweet)

Word Count: 1.5k

Request: " Could you write a reader forcing Steven to read while they stroke him please."

Author's Note: Another bit of Steven Grant love for everyone (like me) who isn't over him yet 🥹 Thank you to everyone sending me these headcanons, please send more Steven requests/thots anytime 🥰

I Can Read You Like A History Book

Steven didn't really understand the phrase 'good night' until he met you.

Before you, nights were an endless cause of stress, confusion and a one way ticket to a morning of feeling more exhausted than ever. Steven dreaded the feeling of his eyes growing heavy, reluctantly locking himself into place for the night and fighting off the cold of the night, alone in his cocoon of blankets. Those bitter memories seem a lifetime away now though: the once lonely sheets now wrapped around you both, your shared warmth and joy soothing his restless heart and mind. No, settling into bed with you was now one of Steven's great joys, draping an arm over your waist to ground himself as all else drifted away. Occasionally though, he did need a little reminder that he no longer needed to spend all night keeping himself up.

Tonight was one of those nights.

It started with a new book, on Egyptian history of course, a brand new volume from his favourite researcher all about newly discovered artifacts in the desert and what they might mean. You watched him break into it the minute he got home from work, barely glancing up as you ate dinner, apologetic but entranced by the words. Not that you minded, it was always a pleasure to see Steven happy and excited, the bright sparkle in his eye as he absorbed the new knowledge and gasped along to the groundbreaking discoveries. You'd first met Steven at the museum, asking a simple question about one of the exhibits and getting an hour-long private tour in return. There was something about the way he shone as he spoke, the passion in his words, the intelligence behind those disarmingly good looks that had your heart beating faster every day since. Even tonight as he sat quietly on his sofa, you watched his eyes flitting word to word, tongue darting out as he worked through the pages and felt a warmth spreading throughout your entire being.

You left him to it as night approached, popping on a lamp when it grew darker, and bringing a fresh cup of tea when the old one was long forgotten and horribly cold. But when Steven's excitable gasps turned to hard-fought yawns, you decided it was time to call it a night for you both, jnowing he would need a little bit of persuading to set his book aside. Pulling on one of Steven's loose jumpers and sliding out of your jeans you put your plan in motion.

The enraptured man finally pulled his eyes away from the text as you settled onto the sofa beside him, resting your head against his shoulder as his lips pressed to your forehead instinctively,

"How's your book going gorgeous?" You asked softly, watching his beaming smile as he gushed excitedly, "It's incredible! It could prove the ancient Egyptians had even more deities than we thought! Doing all different jobs for the people and their lands." You combed your fingers through the mop of curls languishing on his forehead, cuddling closer as you asked pleadingly,

"Will you read some of it to me? Please Steven." The wide adoration in your eyes as you stared up at him had his heart skipping a beat, momentarily losing the ability to read or speak as he took in your loving gaze. It wasn't until you nodded towards the book that he re-joined you on planet Earth and snapped back to attention,

"Oh right! Of course love, sorry." And with that his eyes returned to the page, narrating the discoveries with heartfelt wonder as you cuddled close to his side, on hand still running through his thick hair, listening to his breath catch in his throat whenever your fingers caught the most sensitive spots on his neck. Slowly you let your free hand drift to his lap, delicately tracing shapes over his thigh through the soft fabric of his plaid pyjamas. Though you intentionally made your movements seem absent-minded, you paid close enough attention to hear the soft hum Steven let out at your touch, before quickly returning to the words on his page, slightly embarrassed by his sensitivity to your touch. As he continued line by line, you let your hand drift slightly higher, watching a blush creep across his cheeks every time his voice went up an octave at your caresses. Feeling increasingly flustered Steven felt his mind wandering away from his book, the blood exiting his brain in favour of other parts of him. He tried to keep his composure as you looked up at him adoring, letting out a sharp whine as you pulled your hands away from him. His eyes snapped up to your shifting form, breaking his literary flow with a disappointed look,

"I'm just getting comfier gorgeous," You said sweetly, lifting one leg over his lap until you were straddling his thighs, unavoidably brushing yourself over the bulge forming between them. His eyes fluttered shut for a second, head tilting back, book all but forgotten until you lifted his chin with a gently placed finger tip, giving him your best innocent pout,

"Please keep reading to me Steven, I love listening to you. You're so smart," You punctuated the word with a kiss on his forehead and a circle of your hips, "and so cute," this time your lips landed on his nose, "and so sexy." Finally you found his lips, planting a chaste kiss and getting a fevered nod in response, his eyes desperately trying to focus on the pages in his hands as you let yours fall into his lap.

He picked up the narrative again, voice a lot more flustered this time, struggling to take in the words as your fingers started brushing lightly over the now obvious tent in his pants. The light friction was enough to make his hips twitch, his brow furrowing in concentration as he kept up his best effort at articulation. Gradually your teasing touches grew firmer, rubbing your thumb over his clothed tip, the gentle circles of your hips bringing Steven closer and closer to the edge. You rubbed your palm over the length of him, feeling his thighs start to shake as he stumbled and stammered over every attempted word, his usual tone replaced by whines and moans as you moved.

"Umm, love, I.." He started, eyes no longer fixed to his text but to your steadily brushing hand instead. You paused your movements at his break in focus, earning an involuntary whimper as his hips bucked helplessly chasing his release.

"Please keep reading Steven." This time your tone was less sweet, more teasing, watching his eyes widen in desperation for your touch, so close to his release as he picked up the story's thread, sighing in relief as your hand returned to its rightful place around him. As you palmed him through his pyjamas you took two fingers into your mouth, sucking enthusiastically with a hum before they left your lips with an audible pop. Steven frantically tried to ignore the motion, struggling to sound out each word as the heat inside him grew, gulping as you pulled the waistband of his pants open slightly to slip your now slick hand inside. You ran your wet fingertips over his sticky tip, thumb rubbing a firm line down his length, and he was gone. The book clattered from his hand as he groaned your name, hips shaking beneath you as you pumped the length of him, feeling his underwear fill with his own warmth, the bliss of his release painting your hand and his lower stomach. He sighed exhaustedly as he came down from his high, leaning forward to kiss you hungrily, hands finding your waist with a vice-like grip. As he pulled you tightly against his chest you rocked against his thigh, suddenly painfully aware of your own aching arousal, the fun of teasing Steven stirring up more than a little excitement inside you. His hands drifted down to cup your ass, squeezing with a hum as his lips still clung to yours, smiling as he rocked forward, getting to his feet with you wrapped around his waist. He finally pulled his head back for a breath, a wide smile across his face as he asked breathlessly,

"Do you really like hearing me read that much?" You nodded happily, returning his kiss before adding,

"That and I think it's time for us to go to bed." You watched as your words put a devilish smile on his usually innocent face, carrying to you towards the bedroom in total agreement,

"You're absolutely right love, but you're not getting to sleep before I pay you back for that little stunt."

Safe to say going to bed wasn't something Steven dreaded anymore.

[risherrd]

[zablife]

Lee you know how I’m always weak for some soft Tommy 🫠

"Just call me whenever you like." - from @ creativepromptsforwriting

A rare Tommy Shelby smile, I imagine like reader accidentally calls Tommy something cute or ridiculous as nickname, but you can write whatever you think is best 🥰

Tysm for the prompt, Mar! I did write something previously which I can't seem to find atm where the reader calls Tommy "jackrabbit" in front of his brothers 🤭 If I find it, I'll link it. As for this blurb, I went off script, but it's still fluffy. I decided to make Tommy work a bit for love. I hope you enjoy it!

Call Me--Tommy x reader

Tommy can't imagine why you haven't used the private number he gave you. He instructed you to call him whenever you like, but you weren't about to give in so easily. 

The hour grew late as you concluded your business meeting with the Birmingham gangster everyone warned was someone to be feared. You were never one to be easily intimidated though and accepted his invitation to prove you were serious about your proposal to buy his gin.

Taking your seat opposite the man with the bluest eyes you’d ever seen, you found yourself a bit distracted by his handsome features and charming smile.

Throughout your conversation, Tommy responded favorably to your confidence and unique brand of humor. By the time you’d signed the necessary paperwork, you were sharing a glass of whisky together in celebration. 

As you gathered your coat and purse, Tommy pulled a business card from his pocket and jotted a note on the back.

“What’s this?” you asked glancing down at the card Tommy passed between outstretched fingertips.

“My direct line at the Midland. Call whenever you like,” Tommy said, holding your gaze as his hand brushed over yours suggestively.

His devilish smirk made you scoff. Did this work with other women, you wondered? Tucking the note in your purse, you nodded your head politely, “Good evening, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy sat back in his chair, watching your hips sway enticingly as you disappeared behind the frosted glass doors of his office. This would be the most enjoyable business partnership he’d entered into in some time.

Two months later…

As soon as he spotted you across the room, Tommy’s heart began beating wildly. He had to know why you hadn’t called. It was unusual for his advances to go without any acknowledgment whatsoever. 

“Miss Y/l/n, so kind of you to make an appearance,” Tommy said with an air of cool detachment. 

“I accepted your invitation weeks ago. Didn’t your secretary inform you, Mr. Shelby?” you asked with a tilt of your head.

“Please call me Tommy and you could have phoned me directly, you know,” he said, staring into your eyes intently. “I would have liked to take you to dinner sometime,” Tommy added, eager to hear your response. 

“I see. Well, that would have been lovely. In fact, I was in town recently,” you said, watching Tommy shift uncomfortably in front of you. He wasn’t sure what you were getting at. Had he offended you in some way?

You looked down into your drink as you smiled to yourself. Tommy Shelby was feeling rejected. Although you could dissuade him of the notion, you decided to tease him a bit, knowing his ego could take it. 

“Alright, Tommy,” you said trying how it felt on your tongue. “I’ll be frank.”

“Please do,” he prodded, leaning forward in anticipation.

“Your brother has boasted that you once secured the private correspondence of the king himself so I find it hard to believe you couldn’t get hold of my telephone number if you wanted to see me so much.” You raised an eyebrow at him and he nodded thoughtfully.

“I haven’t acted the gentleman. Is that it?” he asked.

“I would prefer a bit more effort,” you said, strolling away with your empty glass and leaving Tommy in a state of shock.

That evening you kicked off your heels and collapsed on your bed, exhausted from the evening of socialization. Just as you closed your eyes, the telephone began to ring in shrill tones from the bedside table. You reached across the duvet, fumbling for the receiver and cradled it against your shoulder. As you rubbed your aching feet, a familiar voice could be heard rumbling into your ear. “You didn’t tell me that finding you would be harder than blackmailing a king.”

A smile spread across your face as you retorted, “That’s alright, I’m worth it.”

“Yes, I believe you are, love,” Tommy chuckled. “Now about that dinner.”

[genshin-impact-unofficial]

Hi!!! I've really been enjoying your writing, especially Albedo's spicy reading one I blushed and giggled so hard 🥰 it was very sweet and cute!!!

Which leads me into my request if that's okay! Can I please request something sweet and spicy with Albedo? I adore him so much and I don't really have much of an idea so really anything with him would be great!!

I'll probably be an anon for a while cause I'm shy so you can call me 🦊 fox anon if you want!

I hope you're having a great day!!!

Can i get a muthha fuckin uhhhhhhhhh.... Albedo deluxe with extra sweet and sour sauce. 🍔🍟🥤

Lmao fr tho, thank you 🦊 anon for both your praises and your request! I hope this fills your saucy Albedo needs! 💝

Hold Still, My Muse.

Albedo had a vision of you that must be made into reality.

Tags: GN!Reader x Albedo, Technically SFW, PG-13, Suggestive, Pining, Confessions, Everyone always writes Albedo as a dick but he is a polite boy FIGHT ME

The first time Albedo drew you was in passing. A candid sketch that a quiet man gifted to you without reason. When your paths crossed once more, the alchemist asked so politely for a moment of your time and you found it impossible to say no. He asked to draw you again, just as you were, sitting there in the sunlight. It felt awkward having someone stare so intently at your every detail. Albedo worked silently without mentioning how stiff your stance became under his gaze. That just won’t do…

You received a letter from the blond knight only a few days later. He’d like to see you again, but to share a meal this time. It was odd to receive such an invitation from the recluse Kreideprinz, but you were no less delighted to accept.

Albedo was quite charming when he put in the effort. Over dinner he asked to learn about you and your interests. He listened patiently, like he was committing it all to memory. In turn, you learned about Albedo's endlessly fascinating experiments and even about his artwork. You became so engrossed in the man's mind that time nearly got away from you. When Albedo asked you to pose for him once again, your anxieties were easier to push away in his familiar company.

You grew fond of both the alchemist's attention and presence. It became common for Albedo to take you to view scenery around Mondstadt, sit and chat, and eventually take his sketchpad out to draw you. Your heart would skip a beat whenever he held your chin to position your face toward him. Sometimes, you would even do it on purpose. After Albedo finished his sketch, you would both carry on and enjoy the rest of your date evening together.

Curiosity got the better of you regarding how often the blond went out of his way to draw others.

"Hm.." Albedo took a moment to ponder, as if he never considered this. "Besides you, I can't say I've ever went to this extent to draw someone."

You were hid a blush when he invited you to his home for a more private session. Albedo explained how he wanted to test some paints that took longer to dry, thus the process would be quite long. For your comfort he suggested his abode as a solution. Your mind hardly processed the boy’s reasoning, still stuck on being alone together in his home.

-

You regretted your choice of attire as soon as you arrived. The anticipation of the evening had you feeling bold. The revealing blouse and skin tight pants under your coat felt far too forward now that Albedo was right in front of you. If it didn’t mean trekking down the snowy mountain again, you would’ve already made an excuse to leave and reschedule.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’m almost done setting up.” Albedo gestured past his lab and toward a room further back. You entered and held your breath when you saw it was a small neat bedroom. There was very little in the room, just a fireplace, a bed, a couple of chests, and an easel set up towards the room's center. You sputtered out a question, asking where you should sit.

"The bed. We may take a while and it's the most comfortable seat I can offer. Plus, the lighting would be optimal." Albedo stated simply, entering in the room with the last of his supplies. You could only nod at his oblivious logic and take a tentative seat on the edge of his bed. There was no way you could take your coat off now, you were sure you'd burst into flames. The blond didn't question your choice and proceeded to place his paints while letting you get settled.

Maybe you would burst into flames anyway. The healthy fire kept the small room toasty enough that you felt suffocated under your thick coat. It took less than five minutes for you to feel the sweat forming on your brow. You willed yourself to stand strong and hold your pose, maybe he would finish quickly if you were perfectly still.

"Do you mind if I sit beside you?" Albedo's voice cut though your thoughts like a searing knife through butter. You blinked in confusion and shock, unable to find your voice you shook your head and scooted over. Your eyes followed the man's movements as he put down his tools and drew closer. The mattress dipped beside you when he sat and you could feel his gaze on you. You could bare to look just yet.

"Did you know when I began my drawings, they were simply to illustrate my notes? I felt I could study things in far more depth when I sketched their every last detail." The alchemists spoke casually, as if the two of you were sharing over a meal. You turned to look at him, made curious by the man's words.

"I found that the process was something I also enjoyed. It became calming to just observe and create. My mind could stay clear and calm." Albedo continued, "But I have never experienced having a subject enthrall me as much as you."

Your eyes widened and your mouth hung slightly open by the sudden confession.

"My mind isn't quite clear when I draw you. I feel inspired and challenged. I have yet to capture it truly on paper or canvas. I try again and again, and although beautiful, it doesn't truly capture what you evoke." You processed each word over and over in your mind. Finally, you worked up the courage to ask why he was telling you this.

"When you get nervous, you close off from me. I wanted to make my intentions clear so that you may have no reservations about me. You're someone I cherish as an inspiration and as a companion. So please, tell me how I can make you feel as such." Albedo told you earnestly.

You recognized there was vulnerability in his expression and that he was asking for the same. There really wasn't really anything standing in your way but your own fear. For this man, you were willing to be brave and show him what he wanted, what he all but pleaded for. Your expression softened and you told him you were alright to continue now.

Albedo returned to his easel and allowed you to get comfortable again. His eyes followed intrigued while you stood and started to undo your coat. You watched the man's every move while the garment fell to the floor. He didn't bother to hide the way his gaze followed every curvature of your body, as if committing it to memory again. Albedo's features held a mild expression but his body language showed he was restless. You sat farther up the bed, posing modestly yet arching your body ever so slightly for show.

"That position, while... appealing, doesn't lend itself to the lighting. Your leg, perhaps, bend it a little." Albedo, attempting keeping his composure, guided your pose.

"Like this?" You moved slowly, bending your leg up. The position now seemed far more provocative.

"Ah, No." Albedo tried to correct himself, not wanting to insinuate he was trying to put you in a questionable position. "I meant the other way. I apologize."

"Can you show me?" You ask feeling particularly bold now that you've received a reaction. "It would help me a lot." You added when you noticed a small hesitation.

"Of course." Albedo nodded. The blond stepped away from his painting and towards you perched on the bed. His hand hovered over your leg for a moment before looking you in the eye, "May I?" he asked ever so politely. You nodded in response and felt his warm hands begin to guide you.

You asked him how else you could improve your posture and watched as Albedo became eager to teach. Each touch becoming less and less cautious than the last, until the man had you pinned under him. You held each others charged gaze while he gripping each of your wrists against the mattress.

"This isn't very chivalrous of me as a knight." He breathed, looking you over again and again as if expecting you to ask him to stop. You let him observe you and even offered a open view of your neck and chest.

"Isn't it the job of a researcher to uncover what is before you." You remarked, not moving an inch. Albedo unclasped your wrists and you feared he may have had second thoughts. Before you could say anything, arms wrapped around your waist and his face was buried into your neck. A low rumble was spoken across your heated skin.

"Then I'm going to need you in a few positions for research purposes. I'll have to sketch down a few observations for reference as well."

<A/N: Ngl this got away from me a little. I expected this to be far shorter but it I think too hard. I hope you enjoy!

[submissive-humiliation-slut]

You never forget your first time

It's true. 

I never have.

My very first time experiencing online use and abvse… fuck - it is literally burned into my brain.

I should add that everything was with my eager and wholehearted consent… but danmmmmm….

I was chatting with this very interesting dominant on a discord channel and one thing led to another and we agreed that we would play… He invited me to a private room.

Before accepting the invite, I asked if it would be safe in there with him (half joking).

And it just flipped.

He became curt. And said, 

“If you want safe… go somewhere else. 

Don’t ask. 

Don’t question. 

Just do. 

Or don’t. Fuck off…” 

And he just left.

I sat there with my heart beating fast and my mind racing. Should I just go elsewhere? But this is what I wanted… I have no idea what he will do but I was so so so hot and horny that I just meekly accepted the invite and went in.

There were 5 people in that room. Him and four others. Four men and a woman.

They spent the next 12 hours systematically using, abvsing, r4ping and degrading me… in every way possible. And I was made to replicate as much of what was happening by doing it to myself as possible.

They started by tying me up standing… stripping me… groping me… they made me grope myself with my arms in the air and legs apart.

The men were a pack. They used and abused in every way you can think of. 

They fucked me thoroughly multiple times. I had to ruthlessly fuck myself with one dildo in my pussy and one in my mouth to replicate what they were doing to me. I was sore and hot and messy… with sweat and drool staining me…

When they had all cum on me and in me the first time… they made me tell them my most depraved fantasies while edging to them.

In real time, I was naked and writing in my office having roughly fucked myself with my two thick dildos but at no stage was I allowed to cum… even by accident.

I was then asked to go to each of the men and the woman and degrade myself by convincing them to slap my face, my breasts, my clit… if I did not convince them I had to choke myself with a belt in r/l while they thought about it. I had to beg until they accepted.

Every action they described I was made to relive in my home in real life. 

I was dehydrated, starved and sore… but the thrill was unbelievable… 

A few hours in, they invited others to come to the room and I was the cheap slut who had to give them luxurious blowjobs before they abvsed me…

Six hours in, I was a hot, sweaty, smelly, grimy mess… and that was only the halfway mark.

The real pain started later. They tied me in various poses and made me collect my drool as I deepthroated my dildo. They made me collect the drool in a bowl… later this was to be poured down my face and body. 

The face slapping was the worst. I had to wear makeup the next day as there were slight hand prints on my face that took a full day to go away.

The woman it turned out was the most cruel of them all. She started out as the fluffer. By the end she was finding each bruise on my battered body and sadistically pressing down on them while I groaned in pain as she rubbed her cunt over my mouth, not letting me breathe…

Gosh… how I am not cumming right now is requiring me to summon all of my self discipline…

I never forgot that day… and I never will.

It is still my go-to experience to edge to.

To all the submissive humiliation sluts out there… what was your first time? Please do share….

[cdragons]

Truce Part 3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 Pairing(s): Ikaris x Persephone!Reader, Persephone!Eternal Reader & Hecate!Eternal Reader Word Count: 4.1k Prompt/Summary: Part 3 of Truce Miniseries! Warning: SMUTTY TOPICS (Ikaris is a horndog), Neurodivergent reader is neurodivergent, Hecate!Reader bestie is her own warning, Ikaris was kind of a douche (but he gets better), Phastos needs a raise and some aspirin Note: I cannot believe that I managed to update this miniseries so quickly, but my longer fics that forever to write out smh. ANYWAY, once again, thank you to the most wonderful beta reader a new fanfic writer can ask for in the history of everything, @valeskafics ! She is an incredibly kind and patient human and one of the best and most incredible fanfic writers for HOTD, GOT, and the Ewanverse on Tumblr! If you love any of Ewan Mitchell's works or are a fan of GOT/HOTD, I highly recommend checking her blog out! You will not regret it! Also, the BIGGEST thank you and shout of love to @ethereal-athalia , my good man in the storm, I have never clicked so well with someone on this platform when it came to crazy ideas, and thanks to her, I can write out my ideas and share them on this site! If you want to read more from this AU, please click on this masterlist!

“Ikaris,” you breathily purred out, “come with me to my room.”

The second your lips touched the outer rim of his ear, and breathily whispered out your near silent command, Ikaris thought that he must have died and reached paradise. The idea of coming into your bedroom, alone with you, and with no risk of interruptions. He fucked his hand more times than he was willing to admit at the idea. But in every fantasy that entered his mind, that took hold of his body every time you so much as smiled his way, it was you who initiated the coupling. The first thing he registered was the intense wave of your fragrance that overwhelmed his senses, followed by the thought of how the sight of your bed was begging him to throw you on top of the covers, and ravage you until the only word you could remember was his name.

In every reverie that his mind could possibly conjure, you would slowly strip yourself bare before shyly crawling to your bed and draping your figure with coverings. And after he would remove his own armor, he would remove the covers in order to witness you in all of your bare glory, before crawling on top of you. He would be patient with you, only holding you in his arms so that you could feel the rapid beating of his heart. No matter what, Ikaris wanted you to understand that while out of the two of you- he may have been the fighter, but it was you who held the power.

He would treat you with only the utmost tenderness and care that was necessary for an ethereal being such as yourself. He’d kiss you- softly, sweetly- taking in the memory of your lips pressed against his, before he would slowly make his way in devouring you. He often wondered if you tasted as sweet as you smelled. After taking his fill with your lips, he would lay kisses across your jaw, and down your neck until he would pause to take in the view of your perfect breasts.

Oh, to be able to hold your chest in his hands would be a dream come true. To mark your supple skin with his kisses would be his greatest dream. The idea of hearing you moan out his name was enough to get him hard. The only part of you that could rival the glory of your chest was the marvel of your perfect ass. Under no circumstances was there to be any space on your skin unblemished by his design, all leading that moment when he will find your clit, with hopes to find you soaked. And if you needed more stimulation, he would be more than happy to help you climax in any way; tongue, fingers, cock, his body was yours. He would not stop kissing, marking, and breathing in you until there was not a single part of your body that wasn’t completely and thoroughly loved by him.

Granted, when you told Ikaris to walk with you to your private quarters at the Domo, he probably should have known it was too good to be true that you would ever intend to be… “physical” with him.

But never in his wildest imagination would he have thought that the room conjoining your bed quarters would house such an impressive field hosting dozens of different kinds of fruits and vegetation, each having an impressive number of subspecies. Nor would he have expected to be in the position of harvesting said crops with you as you begin to talk his ear off about you design the crop, and what qualifications need to be met before you can properly introduce and integrate them to humanity’s budding culture. Ikaris tried his best to follow along, but the moment you uttered the words “sustainable agriculture” he was completely lost. But all hope in maintaining his composure was lost when you reached your grove of root vegetables. Due to some more deeply rooted than others, you had to crouch on your knees in order to gain a steady enough foundation to grip the crop by its stalk to pull it out, forcing Ikaris to test his willpower as he tried his best to not stare too long at the sight of your glorious backside.

And when the two of you moved on, he swore that he wasn’t imagining how tightly you’d grip his cock as he furiously took you from behind, or to have you crouch in front of him as you took his cock in your mouth, or to-

“Ikaris,” your voice brought him back to reality and away from his shameful imagination, “would you mind tasting these Morbus nigra for me? I can’t decide if I should make them sweeter.” You were standing in front him holding the dark fruit to his lips, its dark pigment staining your skin with its juices.

Ikaris’ Adam’s apple bobbed as he silently nodded in order to not voice his impulse to pin you down and ravish you with only the fruits of your labor and research as the witnesses to him worshipping you. Stiffly leaning down to eat the fruit, Ikaris’ tongue brushed against the tips of your purple-stained fingers. An explosion of tart and sweetness burst within his mouth, and Ikaris held his gaze to you as he gave his answer.

“…It’s perfect,” he replied, “once again you’ve outdone yourself, Sephia.”

Ikaris would have fought a thousand deviants alone if you could keep smiling the way you did now.

About 2 hours must have passed of you and Ikaris inspecting, harvesting, and taste-testing in your little paradise. It wasn’t until you were satisfied with the yield resulting from your and Ikaris’ efforts that you rushed Ikaris away to wash off the dirt in your private showers, and was instructed to meet you in the kitchen area of the Domo. And as Ikaris stood in your bathroom, stripping himself of his azure and gold armor, he couldn’t help but to take in all the details of the room’s interior. Each bedroom of the Domo was identical in both layout and furnishing, but as time passed, each Eternal started to leave subtle hints that hallmarked their individuality.

Assuming that your room would be neat and systemic, he was amazed to see the cartography of beautiful disorder and chaos from vines creeping up your walls, bundles of flowers hung to dry, tins of stones and pebbles covering the surface of your desk, and several heaps of bound paper filled to the brim with notes from past observations and hopes for future experiments scattered on the floor. To see the inside of your lodgings allowed him to look into your mind, to see a part of you that was so carefully tucked away from everyone else, and it was driving him mad.

Realizing that he was standing in the middle of your room naked, Ikaris retreated back to the bathroom to turn on the water and quickly washed off any evidence of dirt and sweat from his skin before he met up with you. He made sure to close his eyes to center himself. If he thought too long of how he was in your shower, and would use your soaps and oils to result in him smelling like you for the rest of the day, then he would be forced to rush his pleasure and your image deserved to be savored.

Redressing himself, Ikaris quickly walked over to your arranged location, and when he saw you standing behind the island counter, washing the vegetables, he could only stand in awe. While there wasn’t a time he hadn’t thought you weren’t beautiful. Ikaris was utterly enchanted at the sight of you now. Your body was slightly swaying to a tune you once heard at one of the many gatherings held in their honor. Unaware that you were humming, you were so focused on preparing your harvest that you hadn’t heard Ikaris enter the room. It seems that you also washed yourself, as evidenced by the messy bun with a few stubborn damp tendrils escaping and clinging to your brow. Your face was beautifully flushed, as he was sure as was the rest of you, despite being hidden by your Eternal’s uniform. You were the image of serenity and beauty.

Clearing his throat to gain your attention, you quickly turned around and flushed in embarrassment.

“Oh Ikaris,” you exclaimed, “I’m sorry, were you standing there for long?”

“No, I just got here,” he replied, “I’m sorry for taking so long, and you should have just let me use my own shower if you wanted to take one yourself.”

Waving your hand to dismiss him as you chuckled, “No, no, no! Don’t worry about that! I just showered in Kaety’s room! Besides it’s only fair considered how many times she’s used mine.”

…What? Why would- why would Kaetlyn- huh?

Furrowing his slight displeasure at this new knowledge, Ikaris quickly asked you to clarify, “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” You seemed genuinely surprised at his question, but you shrugged it off, “Phastos had to design 2 extra rooms because Kaety ended up making a secret lab for her dissections and practices out of her original room. She transformed the bed into a surgical table, filling the room with weird jars- which is how I ended up helping her with the preserving solution since the bodies would degrade so quickly- and it got to the point where Phastos ended up FAINTING when he accidentally walked into the room because Cerbie left the door open. Can you hand me a few of those Allium praecox, they’re the ones that look like big white spheres?”

“…But why did she use your shower?” Maybe it was stupid for Ikaris to feel so jealous at an event that happened so long ago, but he hated your friend more than ever now.

“Well, she and I ended up sharing my room because she transformed her bed, so we slept in the same bed and everything! And I love Kaety, but she smelled HORRIBLE after dealing with Deviants, so I always made her shower before coming to bed. She would be soaked in that blood- and I know that our uniforms are made of energy that allow them to clean and mend themselves, but the smell still stuck to her skin, her hair- there was even blood under her fingernails!”

Your body shuddered at remembering it before continuing, “So I made it kind of a rule that whenever you enter my room, you have to shower. Otherwise, you were barred from entering my room. Can you please pass me the Allium praecox now- oh, and the Allium sativum? They look like the Allium praecox, but they’re smaller, and look kind of lumpy. Anyway, Kaety ended up getting her own room and a lab, and then I kind of wanted an area that I could have full control over what I could grow- so, I ended doing the same thing but instead of blood, it was dirt.”

Head still screaming questions, Ikaris only silently handed you the bulbous vegetables as you continue with your tasks. For the rest of the time being, he just handed you whatever ingredients you needed, and observed you as you prepared everything to cook them. Watching you calmed his temper immensely, as he made sure to make minimal comments and only asking questions whenever there was something he was truly confused by. Soon, there was no speaking necessary as the two of you worked in amicable silence.

When Ikaris was focusing on mashing the Cicer arietinum into a smooth paste with the mortar and pastel per your instructions, you couldn’t help but take in the man beside you. You couldn’t believe how much he’s changed since you first acquainted yourself with him.

You were always aware of Ikaris since the moment you stepped off the Domo to first meet humanity, one couldn’t help but always be aware of him. Ikaris always had such a commanding presence, an attitude that demanded all attention from everyone in the same room as him- even the way he walked and stood screamed for attention.

From the beginning, it was obvious to you that he only pretended to try to get along with you so that he could gain Sersi’s affections. That was the other thing that made Ikaris so unbearable to you initially, his hubris. He had an inane talent of holding himself to such a high degree of competency that it baffled you whenever you saw someone as sweet as Sersi smiling and laughing with him. Sersi may not have been as close to you as Kaety, but you and her grew very close as you worked together in aiding humanity with their crops and developing their agriculture. As such, you saw it as your duty to warn her of Ikaris’ intentions, not wanting her to fall victim to such a pathetic man- no matter how much Ajak trusted him. Furthermore, it enraged you to no end how he would have the temerity to instruct YOU of all people on how to properly plant and harvest the crops YOU designed! He would even go out of his way to critique your reluctance in interacting with humanity, constantly comparing you to the other team members, mostly Sersi and himself. It was unbearable, and every time he would finish his “lecture,” you would lock yourself in your room to try to stop the cruel voices in your head that doubted you. Every time you saw him, your detest grew and grew until a boiling point had been reached, and the limits of your patience had passed the point of no return.

That was the day Ikaris thought it would be a good idea to publicly critique your behavior in front of the team, and question whether or not you were trying to hold them back with your inattentiveness and lack of commitment.

And that was the comment that broke the metaphorical camel’s back.

Not even Makkari was quick enough to stop you as you launched yourself to Ikaris, and delivered a slap with the most satisfying crack as a result of all of your strength being poured into it. You were done. If Ikaris had ever thought you to be a meek little flower before, that was officially over as you began to scream your anger at his deplorable behavior and complete lack of respect. You told him exactly how you felt every time: he wasted your time intruding on your duties to flirt with your friend, made snide comments of your crop designs and purpose, and would only pretend to be cordial to you whenever Sersi was looking, only to revert back to his neanderthal ways the second she turned away.

By the time you were done, you could feel your body vibrating with the adrenaline from your outburst. Ikaris- along with everyone else on the team- stood still and slack jawed at the event they just witnessed. Not wanting to risk the embarrassment from your impulsivity taking over, you quickly left the Domo to find a quiet place for your own thoughts. It was late at night, and so you quickly managed to find a private area of the gardens. But it wasn’t long until Kaet ended up finding you- as she always does, thank Arishem for that. She didn’t say a word as she laid by your side before she gathered you in her arms, and letting your head rest in the crook of her neck.

You loved so many things about Kaety- her courage, her intellect, her kindness and overwhelming empathy- but if there was anything you were grateful for, it was that she had the ability to understand you without the need for words. You knew she was proud that you stood up for yourself- that you finally defended yourself against your oppressor- but that wasn’t what you needed then. At that moment, your senses were going into overdrive. Your heart was beating so fast, and you just wanted everything but Kaety to disappear. Your brain felt so wired, but your body was beyond exhausted. Conjuring up a blanket, she covered the two of you as you let yourself simply feel- crying yourself to sleep as your best friend’s arms protected you from the rest of the world.

The sun rose from the west, the world still stood, and everything from the night before remained. You dreaded the idea of seeing the team, but Kaety knew you and her needed to return.

“Don’t you dare lower your head,” she told you, “don’t you dare let him take this from you.”

And so, with the both of you returning the starship, you refused to let yourself acknowledge the stares of everyone at you. Kaety was your steady boulder, stopping anyone who approached the two of you with just a single stare. The two of you managed to make it back to your room before you felt all the air leave your body as you sunk to the ground. Knowing that you haven’t even washed yourself after working in the fields yesterday, Kaet ordered you to take a long shower. She hadn’t even left the room as you did so, going so far as to tuck you into bed, assuring you that she will inform Ajak that you would take no visitors or interruptions. She even left a little part of her shadow to guard your entrance from the hall, giving it strict instruction to inform her immediately if anyone so much as tried to knock on your door.

The next few weeks went by with your mind in a slight haze. Druig and Phastos congratulated you for standing up to Ikaris, along with promising protection should their leader’s second-in-command attempt to say anything about you behind your back. You and Phastos had always been very close to one another, as you always liked to ask questions about his inventions, and made sure to offer encouragements whenever Ajak had to reject them for being too advanced- but Druig was a surprise.

While you and the telepath were well-acquainted with one another due to the other’s relationship with Kaetlyn, you and him were never truly close. However, your outburst changed that, opening a doorway to a strange, but comforting friendship a bit similar to the one you shared with Phastos. 

You were worried about Sersi, as you enjoyed your time with her and didn’t want things to be awkward with the two of you. So, you were shocked when you saw her apologize to you for missing all the signs of Ikaris’ inappropriate behavior. You dismissed all of her worries, assuring her that she was not to blame for Ikaris being himself. Luckily, it was as if nothing had changed- a huge comfort to you to say the least.

All was peaceful within the team until Ikaris would approach you to “apologize.” An attempt that would always result in you ignoring him, refusing to give the neither the satisfaction nor the time of day. It wasn’t until he declared that you were acting like a child for not even seeing that he was doing his best to make amends. But you quickly shut him down, outright stating that he had done nothing to show his remorse, and that you had better things to do than to waste your time on someone who thought himself a leader, but couldn’t even admit his own mistakes. You pushed past him, thinking that was the final attempt, and Ikaris would forever remain the man with too much pride and not enough humility to gain your respect.

But despite all your doubts, Ikaris proved himself capable of admitting his own mistakes, and showed genuine remorse and actively changed his behavior. He would no longer approach you with such haughty behavior, and would genuinely ask for your help when he had trouble understanding something. He would no longer try to deflect whenever you pointed out a mistake, and would be patient in your explanation. And try as hard as you did, you couldn’t help but see Ikaris in a different light. You forgave him, and you were so glad to at this moment.

Still staring at him, you took in all his features with keen observation. While Kaet still insistently compared the flying Eternal’s physical features to a sight less pleasant than having a Deviant’s gonads shoved in your face, you could admit that the man before was an extremely handsome one. Despite all his bravado and apparent confidence, you could more than understand why so many female humans were enamored at the sight of him. Even you occasionally couldn’t help but admire Ikaris’ deep blue eyes, eyes that were staring back at you at this very moment.

“Something on my face?” He asked with a raised brow that only further highlighted his sharp features. You blinked for a bit.

“Sorry, I was just thinking that you are very handsome.” You revealed with a straight face.

Not bothering to hide the pleased expression on his face with a light tint of red on his cheeks, Ikaris turned his body to fully face you.

“Handsome, am I?” He smugly asked, “Careful Sephia, you might risk filling my ego if continue those sweet words.”

Now it was your turn to blush.

“Oh, come off it,” you snarked as you rolled your eyes, “don’t bother to pretend you don’t know how the women always clamor to get your attention at every gathering since we first came here.”

“I assure you I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do you scoundrel.”

“Scoundrel?” Ikaris mocked, “Do you really think this face belongs to that of a scoundrel?”

“Yes, it absolutely does” you replied- before pretending to be deep in thought, “Your face shows me that you are about...48% scoundrel- no wait, now it’s 67% because of that smirk.”

Eyebrows lifted and lips tucked in, Ikaris closed his eyes and gave a deep nod- if only to show that he took your 67% scoundrel assessment very seriously. Seeing him like that must have pleased you, as you began to smile.

“You know,” you began, “you should smile a lot more. It makes you look more approachable, and maybe Kaety wouldn’t give you such a hard time if she saw you like I’m seeing you now.”

Ikaris stood there, contemplating what you just said. It wasn’t that he was incapable of showing his vulnerable sides, you just had that natural ability to bring out the parts of himself that he hadn’t thought were there to begin with- maybe, it was a gift that only you possessed. But at the mention of your friend’s name, Ikaris suddenly remembered why he sought out your company in the first place.

“Sephia,” he began- lowering his voice a bit to steel himself, “about you and Kaetlyn- I just wanted-”

He couldn’t even finish his question at the sight of your full attention at him. Not wanting to ruin all the mood, he decided that he would just leave it for another time.

“I wanted to let you know that- I’m glad,” he ended up stating, “I’m glad that Kaetlyn is someone you can always rely on- even if she and I don’t get along, it makes me happy to know that you’ll always be safe with her around.”

Unable to hide how touched you were by his words- knowing fully well how little he and Kaet got along- you flung yourself to Ikaris, wrapping your arms around his neck, and gave him the biggest hug like you have only ever given to Kaety. And although he was a bit caught off-guard, Ikaris gladly reciprocated your embrace, burrowing his face in your shoulder, bliss filling his entire frame.

“Ikaris,” you whispered, “you have no idea how much that means to me.”

The two of you stood there for a few more minutes before you unwrapped yourself from him, and immediately resumed cooking. Although no words were exchanged, there was a lightness and warmth added to the atmosphere of the room that was not there before. Soon enough, the two of you finished and set the dishes on the counter before tucking into your well-deserved meal.

“…Did Phastos really faint after seeing Kaetlyn’s room?”

“YES! Oh, it was so funny- well, at least to Kaety, but I admit that she may have gone too far when she placed his body on top of her surgery table, and put on a deviant’s skull and stood over him when he woke up- he ended up fainting all over again!”

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