#i always work on the face and hair first and forget i have everything else left....

[skitskatdacat63]

I wish I saved more steps of the process for this or actually turned on the time-lapse for once but, process :) cause I think it's fun to look back on

[thevillainswhore]

New Tricks

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead

What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular. 

Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.

Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky

Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne

Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗

These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️

New Tricks Masterlist

I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door. 

“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time,  when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.  

Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck. 

The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again. 

Excellent, you inwardly sigh.

“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting  internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level.  “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.” 

Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck.  Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows. 

Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”

His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?” 

No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind. 

“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.” 

The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes. 

“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.” 

You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation. 

Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic. 

“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?” 

Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–” 

You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.

Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”

Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning. 

“What the shit–“ 

The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?” 

In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!” 

Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.” 

The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”

“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”

“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.  

The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all. 

And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?” 

Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids. 

“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”

Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed. 

“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.” 

It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone. 

You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?” 

You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“

“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over. 

Had he been listening that whole time? 

Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky  may have made was a burden you did not want to bear,  and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”

Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.” 

The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”

“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”

His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.  

With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.  

“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”

The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?”

Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump. 

You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose.  “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”

With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off. 

Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips. 

Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door. 

With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”

Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.  

Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”

He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”

You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.  

“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?” 

The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”

You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.” 

Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf. 

The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?” 

“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”

You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”

“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom. 

Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”

“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you. 

A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.  

The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence. 

Though, it is short lived. 

Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand. 

A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works. 

“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off. 

You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before… 

“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”

A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious. 

His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you. 

“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”

The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats. 

Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?” 

You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”

The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet. 

Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.

“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”

“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.  

Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company. 

This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence. 

Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone. 

“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content. 

“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”

“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets. 

“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.

The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.

“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.

Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.  

That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself. 

“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?” 

You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV. 

“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.” 

The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.” 

Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.” 

Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”

“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.” 

You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”

Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it. 

Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”  

Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”

“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!” 

He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?” 

“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.  

“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”

His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”

Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night. 

There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus. 

Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”  

Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing. 

“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”

“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”

“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”

A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”

“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.” 

Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” 

His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face. 

Okay, you think privately, so what? 

Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt. 

If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”

“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”

Now that catches you off guard. 

Bucky… is a virgin? 

Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match. 

Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression. 

“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”

No other words come to mind. 

When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts. 

You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully. 

The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him. 

Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession. 

It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands,  and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty. 

From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer. 

Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past.  And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket. 

What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?

To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs. 

Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees. 

“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.  

The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical. 

You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”

“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”

Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.” 

“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting. 

You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, “Please?”

He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“

“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”

“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.

“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”

You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.

“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”

“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through. 

Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek. 

This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance. 

You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.

He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”

“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap. 

That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth. 

There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves. 

Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face. 

“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.

There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek. 

“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.

Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”

The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes. 

Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.  

“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session. 

Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.

“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.  

You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.

“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension. 

A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time. 

Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.  

The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close. 

But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard. 

The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly. 

Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before. 

You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another. 

It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you. 

And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–” 

To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.  

Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries. 

You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.

The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss. 

You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move. 

Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous. 

It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”

Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”

Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”

Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.

“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.” 

You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin. 

The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet. 

The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt  — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.

Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.  

“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”

“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”

You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”

The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn. 

“Wha– Fuck!”

You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it. 

The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.

Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release. 

You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the  loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle. 

Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.

Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck. 

You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently. 

“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”

Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him. 

You can’t have that, though. 

Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go. 

It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in. 

You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?” 

Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.” 

“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.  

You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.” 

The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”

Something snaps within him. 

The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure. 

To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop. 

“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”

“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!” 

“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed. 

“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”

The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat. 

The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”

Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness. 

After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”

“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material. 

Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”

“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.

The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”

Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”

“But–” Bucky tries. 

“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”

His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”

“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”

The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces. 

It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”

You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands. 

And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair. 

You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.

“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.” 

You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only– 

“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala. 

“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”

But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?” 

That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes. 

You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”

Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away. 

With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”

The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky. 

“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”

“Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”

You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”

The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall.  “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”

A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive. 

“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.” 

That meant only one person was responsible. 

Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.  

Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night. 

I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake. 

Love ya squirt, 

Your big bro.

“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.

P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x 

Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again. 

“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”

Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain. 

Part Two, Part Three

[astrolynnworld]

cramps

pairing: matt x reader

summary: you’re on your period and matt does anything and everything to soothe the pain away

warnings: fluff! period cramps, romance, care, reassurance, wholesome, pet names (sweet/pretty girl)

word count: 717

i toss and turn as i feel my pre period cramps start to form

my period is not suppose to come for another 5 days but my cramps always come first, as a warning

i check raise my head to check the clock and see what time it is

“4:15 am” i see on the tv’s cable box

i lay my head back down and continue to shuffle around the bed to find a comfortable position for my cramps to relax in

“baby what’s wrong?” matt asks me with his raspy morning voice

“my period is coming soon, i feel the cramps start to overTAKE me” i say in soft annoyed tone

“is there anything i could do to help baby?” he concerns

“can you actually go get me my heating pad please?” i ask nicely

he hops out the bed and uses the flashlight off his phone to roam around the room and look for my heating pad

once he pulls it in comes back to bed, i hear him gasp

“what?” i jump in shock at his gasp

“your period.. came”

i sit up to see what he’s talking about and see a whole bloody mess stained into our bedsheets

“oh my god” i put my head in my hands out of annoyance and embarrassment

“it’s okay baby. i just need you to stand up for me okay?”

i get off the bed and start to feel the water works fall out

“don’t cry baby” matt says as he comes over to me and wraps his arms around me

“hey it’s not your fault baby” he tries to reassure

“you can’t help it.. you didn’t know, it’s completely fine. you don’t have to cry, sweet girl” he continues as he starts to play with my hair in the hug

i pull back and start to wipe my eyes as i start to sense that im being dramatic

“here baby, i need you to go wash up while i clean the bed”

i nod my head and make my way to the bathroom

“and hand me your clothes before you go in the shower please”

i do as i’m told then i head to the shower

i continue to wash up as i hear matt enter the bathroom

“hey pretty girl, everything still okay?” he asks

“yeah, i’m just finishing up” i sluggishly say

“okay baby. i changed our sheets and im washing the other ones now” he reassures

i stay silent out of acknowledgment but he doesn’t leave

“is there anything else you want princess?” he asks

“no thank you” i say while shaking my head as if he could see me

“alright..” he says before closing the door

i could tell he feels bad but i just really can’t be bothered rn. my stomach hurts, i embarrassed myself, im so annoyed, and i feel bad that he feels bad.. there’s just too much going on

i finish up my shower and put my towel on before heading back to the bedroom

when i get back i see matt had turned on the led lights, switched the tv to netflix, and had my tylenol bottle set up next to some water

“matt what is this?”

“nothing much. just me trying to distract you from your period” he giggles

“that’s not how it works sadly” i pout as i pop the tylenol in my mouth and swallow some water

“well, im gonna try” he comes in for a kiss

i start to get dressed, not forgetting the pad, as matt searches for a good movie to watch.

“do you want some to eat pretty?”

“is anything even open right now?” i genuinely ask

“only mcdonald’s..” he replies

“then yes please” i smile at him

“your usual?”

“yeah” i reply as i get in bed to snuggle next to him

“it’ll be here in 30 minutes” he says

“if we’re still up” i chuckle

“don’t worry. i’ll grab it for you so you can enjoy it when you wake up and not kill me for letting you fall asleep” he chuckles back

“thank you baby. i appreciate you so much, definitely a core memory” i turn over to face him

he smiles and places a kiss on my forehead, “i love you, sweet girl. don’t forget it”

——————————————————————-

taglist: @cutiepatootie36273 @secret-sturniolo @sturns-blog @sturniolo-2003 @mayaaatok @sturnswrites @mattsleftnipple03 @mattybswife @tropicasturn @princessbetsy123-blog <333

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Ghostwriter was really asking for soup time at this point.

He had apologized for his first Christmas truce before, last year he even convinced Clockwork to help him make a copy of the original work he had ruined.

So why in god’s gracious earth did he wake up to Amity Park being in a hallmark movie.

Danny glared as the people milled about the center of town like they haven’t since the portal opening.

It was unnerving, the only thing really missing from the equation was some out of town love interest or something.

“Hey, excuse me.”

Tall and built with black hair and blue eyes.

Oh you got to be-

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dick tried to make himself look more charming as the guy he approached turned around.

When he heard that the justice league were getting concerning calls about a town In Illinois, he saw an out from the Christmas gala.

Sure Dick enjoyed the season, but the fact that he has to spend a large amount of the winter season putting up a front as the perfect firstborn was not something he wanted to do unless he had to.

That being said, the town was a bit unnerving. He hadn’t seen anything supernatural per say but the constant cheer is something he had only ever seen on the silver screen of his home. He had tried to approach several different people only to be met with seasons greetings and promptly ignored when as they ran off to do whatever small towns do for the holidays.

This guy at least wasn’t plastering a smile on his face.

“Hey, excuse me I’m new in town and looking around, my name is-“

“Let me guess, Rupert or Orlando or some shit.”

“What?”

“Well it has to be pompous and annoying. It’s kind of a trend and shit last time I checked.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about man I just wanted to ask-“

The man snorted as he left, throwing over his shoulder with a large amount of snark,

“For a tour around town? A place to stay? A friendly face? Sorry man, man but I’m not interested. The town square is full, ask someone else I have a date with a caffeine addiction.”

Dick watched a bit stupefied as the guy weaves into the ground and out of his eyesight.

“Well he seemed charming.”

Dick raised his phone to the earpiece and sighed,

“Yeah well, he’s the first person who didn’t sound like they weren’t on a script so far. I didn’t even know that midwesterners took Christmas so seriously. How long until you reach town Jay?”

I’m reaching midtown just about now. It looks like Santa took a shit on every-“

There was a sudden squeal of tires as the line cut.

Oh no.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jason gasped as he tried to calm his breath glancing at the guy he almost hit on his bike.

Jesus Christ that was close.

“Shit man are you alright?”

“Peachy. Always liked pancakes and all that.”

~~~~~~~

Danny felt a blush hit him as the behemoth of a guy let out a snort. It was embarrassing that he didn’t notice the guy until he almost became a smear, the dude was built like a tank and wearing a red helmet.

“I shouldn’t’ve taken that turn that quickly.. sometimes forget I’m not at home.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s home for you?”

“Gotham if you believe that.”

“Explains why you drive like you’re chased by death.”

“You have no idea..”

He took off his helmet with another snort and shake of the head. A white wisp in a sea of black shook out while mirthful blue eyes met his.

Crap..

“Name’s Jason. You are?”

“Nunya,”

The guy raised a brow mildly confused.

“Pardon?”

“Nunyabusinessbye!”

Danny took off before he was done with the sentence. He could feel eyes on his retreat for the second time today.

‘Jesus, smooth recovery Fenton.’

~~~~~~~~

Tim rubbed his eyes as he listened to his older brothers bicker over the coms.

He couldn’t understand the issue with the surveillance! All the cameras and mics are properly functioning but for some reason everything is corrupted and it’s driving Tim up a wall!

A break, Tim needed a break from this Airbnb and something caffeinated.

~~~~~~~~

‘Just ten minutes, ten minutes and he could get his drink, he could rant to his friends on the group chat afterwards and wait out the story. ‘

And with as much bravo as any tired young adult, he entered the shop.

Danny almost left the cafe as he heard another unfamiliar voice bellow out.

“What do you mean you don’t have coffee, it’s a coffee shop!”

Blue eyes, black hair, surprisingly smaller than the first two and eye bags that could rival Danny some nights.

Danny was done.

Fuck the treaty this was war.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

A Very Merry Unbirthday

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: minor angst, fluff at the end

Request by anon: I was wondering if you could do a angst fic where Spencer forgets readers birthday maybe he’s too distracted by JJ (or anyone else) then Derek is the one who reminds him, maybe Derek brings reader flowers and Spencer got jealous and confronted Derek and that’s when Derek tells him that it’s her birthday 

Summary: Your birthday is here and the one person you expected something from doesn't even remember it's here.

Square Filled: penelope garcia for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Today is a very exciting day because today is your birthday! To celebrate the big day, you’re wearing your favorite jeans that hug your ass nicely, shoes that make you look taller without it being a high heel, a nice blouse that stays in work regulations, your hair is half-pinned to the top, light makeup on your face, and a smile to tie it all together. 

It sucks you won’t get to spend it with your family but you have another family waiting for you at the office. Being surrounded by the people you care about, especially your boyfriend, is something you’d never turn down. Spencer has always been known to do cute and romantic things for you so you’re so excited to see what he has planned for your birthday.

The first person you see when you walk into work is Spencer. He is at his desk on the phone and based on his face, it’s not a pleasant phone call. You’re not going to bother him when he’s working so you’ll greet him when he gets off the phone. You walk to your desk and set your things down when JJ and Emily approach you from behind.

“Happy birthday,” Em grins.

“Thank you!”

“Anything special planned?”

“You mean besides the not-so-surprise party Pen is throwing?” JJ and Emily have shocked looks on their faces. “Come on, I know even if no one told me. Don’t worry, I’ll be prepared to be surprised.”

“She does make it obvious sometimes,” Emily chuckles.

“Other than that, no. Spencer might have something planned but that I do not know about.” Spencer gets off the phone with a sigh and you depart from your friends. You walk over to him with a smile even if he doesn’t return it. “Hey.”

“Hey. Sorry, I can’t talk right now.”

He grabs a bunch of files off his desk and leaves his desk and you behind.

“Okay, I’ll catch you later,” you call after him.

Maybe he’s having a busy morning. You’ll meet up with him later once he’s had enough time to get done what he needs to. Hotch and Rossi walk into the bullpen after visiting someone on the first floor, and you smile at them.

“Hi, Hotch. Rossi.”

“Hey, happy birthday, kiddo,” Rossi smiles.

“Yeah, happy birthday.”

“Thank you. Another year older. It seems like the older I get, the faster time goes.”

“You’re preaching to the choir,” Rossi jokes.

They both have gifts for you but they will give them to you at Penelope’s surprise party. She is a dead giveaway when she is doing something for other people. Once she starts planning, she has a hard time keeping it inside. It’s endearing.

After lunch, you find Spencer in the break room. He has been working his ass off all day and is in desperate need of something to eat.

“Hey, Spencer. How was your morning?”

“Rough. Hotch has me running around doing everything under the sun.”

You wait for him to say something but when he doesn’t after five seconds, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

“Do you know what today is?”

“Monday?”

“Yes but no.”

“It’s not a holiday.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I don’t know. What?” The smile on your face falls when you realize that he may have forgotten about you. He forgot. “Are you okay?”

“No, yeah, um, I just made you some lunch. It’s in the fridge.”

“Thank you,” he smiles and kisses your cheek.

“You’re welcome,” you whisper.

You wait for him to say anything else to you but he doesn’t. Spencer never forgets anything but he forgot this? He forgot you? Spencer’s desk phone rings and he abandons the lunch you made to answer it. Maybe you’re not important to him anymore.

You avoid him like the plague for the rest of the day. He doesn’t seem to notice since he is nose-deep in his work, but he does notice Derek walk in with some flowers in hand.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” Spencer smiles.

“Yours.”

“What?” Spencer stands up and checks the card to see your name on it. “Why are you giving my girlfriend flowers?”

“You didn’t get her any?”

“No, why would I?”

“You’re in trouble, that’s all I gotta say,” Derek chuckles.

“I’m not in the mood to play games, Morgan. Why are you getting my girlfriend flowers?”

“I got them for her birthday which is today.”

“No, it’s next month.”

“No, it’s today.”

Spencer groans in realization as Derek places the flowers on your desk.

“Are you kidding me?” Now he knows why you’ve been avoiding him all day and why you were so weird during lunch. “I messed up big time. She asked me earlier what today was but I told her I didn’t know. Now I have no idea where she is. She’s been avoiding me.”

“I saw her head into Pen’s office.”

“Thank you.” Spencer rushes over to Pen’s office and knocks twice. He tries to open the door but it’s locked. “Penelope? I know Y/N is in there.”

The door unlocks and Pen only opens it slightly so he can’t barge in.

“She doesn't want to see you right now.”

“Just let me talk to her.”

“Try again later.”

“Y/N, I am so so--”

Penelope closes the door on Spencer, cutting him off. Spencer debates on knocking until you relent but he has a better idea. It’s nearing the end of the day and Hotch has granted him early leave for the day.

“I get he’s busy and gets distracted, but not one ‘happy birthday’ to me? He remembers everything but not this?”

“Honey, all men are stupid, even the smartest of them.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I gotta get back to work. I can’t hide out here forever.”

“Good luck!”

You finish the rest of the work day without seeing Spencer and you don’t see him on your way home. You unlock your front door and enter your apartment expecting to just go to bed and forget today ever happened. Instead, you see fake candles making a path straight to Spencer who is holding a single rose in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” you eventually ask and close your front door.

“I am so sorry for today. I was caught up in work and I didn’t realize what I was doing until Derek told me, but that’s not an excuse.”

“Do you even know what today is?”

“It’s your birthday.”

“You forgot.”

“No, I was distracted. Darling, I am so sorry.”

You sigh, take your jacket off, and hang it on the rack by the door.

“I’m not upset that you were busy. We all get busy. I’m more upset that you forgot. You have a mind that can’t forget but you forgot me. It made me feel like I’m not important enough to you.”

Spencer rushes over to you and pulls you into his arms, lifting your chin so you’re looking right at him.

“No, don’t ever think that. You’re the most important person in my life. You are the light in all this darkness. You are the reason I get up in the morning.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Hotch has been bombarding me with work lately. I got caught up in that today.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yes.”

“Is that rose for me?”

Spencer smiles and holds the rose out for you. “Yes.”

“Do we still have time for dinner?”

“Why don’t we stay in tonight and I’ll cook for you? We can plan something for after your party I know you know about.”

“Okay, deal,” you smile.

He leans down and kisses you, relieved that he didn’t mess everything up.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[dawn-in-neocity]

“best friend” (™️) nct dream

(that is your man, you’re just in denial)

mark

y’all are only missing the relationship title at this point. you’re always the first to hear his new music. he values your opinion so much. loves lending you hoodies and jackets because when you return them they smell like you. tells you how cute you are 100 times a day. boops your nose and pinches your chin. sends you 360s of his fresh haircuts. shows up to all your events (sports, work events, art, fundraisers, anything you do). makes pinky promises with you.

renjun

you two slowly move into more than friends territory. brings you flowers “for your room”. picks up your vocab without realizing it. reserves his gentlest speaking voice for you only. listens intently to anything and everything you have to say. you two do road-trips and mini getaways all the time. vents to you. creates the perfect bite from his meal for you to try whenever you’re eating together. forehead kisses!!! will be the one to initiate the “what are we” conversation.

jeno

he’s simply your jeno and you do not wish to elaborate. his arm is always draped over the back of your seat. you’re together so often that his friends are confused when you’re NOT at his place. slips up and calls you babe (and keeps at it since you don’t seem to mind). you two are always in a corner laughing it UP about something. y’all dressed up as harley quinn and the joker for halloween. ALWAYS ties your shoelaces for you no matter where you are.

haechan

that’s just your bf i hate to break it to you. posts soft launch-esque pics of you two on his story. everyone thinks you’re dating. teases you by poking his finger into your side. why are you standing so close to each other? his hair is touching your forehead? move? plays with your fingers. named the stuffed animal you won him and now deems it your love child. places your legs on top of his when you sit beside each other. texts you “this made me think of you” at least 4x a week.

jaemin

he would marry you tomorrow if you agreed. makes it clear that it’s you or no one else for him. greets you with a veryyy friendly kiss on the cheek. 0 chill when it comes to pda. got you a really nice gift for valentine’s day. tells you he’s in love with you daily, just in other words. spam comments on your posts. SO flirty. blows kisses and winks at you type of flirty. STARES; like heart shaped pupils, dopey smile staring. “it’s late, you should just sleep over :)”.

chenle

has known you forever and has basically been your bf forever. regularly texts your mother. brings you to all his family events. affectionately bites you. holds your face in his hands and squishes your cheeks together. casually drops the most heartwarming compliments ever. never corrects people when they refer to you as his s/o. places your hand on his arm when you guys walk together. gets close to your face and pulls away when you’re about to kiss. dies when you do it back.

jisung

you two have never been just friends tbh. will bail on plans just to stay in and watch netflix with you. calls you a version/nickname of your name only he uses. asks you for head scratches when he’s tired. picks up on your moods so easily like how??? actively keeps up with all your school/work tea. always brings you a little treat when he comes to see you. forgets you’re meant to be low-key when he drinks and gets very… loving. y’all are always falling asleep on facetime.

[eufezco]

THREE LIES AT ONCE

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!STYLIST!READER

this is based on a prompt from character.ai c:

SYNOPSIS -> You're his stylist and you discover bruises.

You liked it when Finnick visited the Capitol and Finnick hated doing it except for the fact that he knew you would be there.

You had already earned a reputation as a stylist in the Capitol when you two met. And it had been four years since Finnick won his games but President Snow had kept him close because nothing was more appealing than a charming boy in his twenties to the people of the Capitol.

You learned from the best. Cinna taught you everything he knew about fashion and then made you forget about it all so you could build your own style. It actually worked quite well because your designs were sold in the Capitol as if people needed them to live.

Your colors and characteristic shapes, your outrageous skirts, your long dresses, and your headdresses were worn by everyone, men and women fought over your designs and they spent all their savings on your clothes. President Snow was more than delighted with you, not only because his granddaughter deeply admired you but because you knew how to be liked, and he loved that about you.

That's why President Snow found the perfect match with Finnick and you and for once in his life, he did something right.

Finnick became your muse. From the moment you were introduced at the Capitol and you saw him walking towards you with those bright green eyes, his perfectly messy blonde hair, his tanned skin thanks to the way the sun in District 4, and his body that looked like it had been sculpted by the gods. You knew you never wanted to design anything else but for him.

―When did you arrive and how is it that you haven't come to see me earlier? ―You threw yourself into his arms, your fingers dug into his blond locks of hair. This was not the typical relationship that stylists used to have with their models but after working with him for a couple of years now, it was inevitable that some affection would grow between the two of you. Especially when, during his stays in the Capitol, you spent most of your time together. You were the only thing that kept him from going crazy.

He would sit and watch you while you sketched out his next outfit. You would share a drink and ask him questions about how his life was back in District 4. Finnick loved to talk about his home and you loved to imagine yourself there, in the places that Finnick described to you so precisely. The sea reaching your feet, the sun shining against your skin, the sound of seagulls flying across the bluest sky you had ever seen... And for some reason that you were still trying to figure out, every time you imagined yourself in one of those scenarios, he was by your side. District 4 seemed like a lovely place.

Finnick's arms wrapped around your waist while his face hid in the crook of your neck. He inhaled your familiar scent when you hugged, too sweet for the Capitol, not like the perfume people there used to keep up with their continuous call for attention.

―Yesterday but I was too tired from the trip.

That was the first lie that Finnick told you that night.

There was an expression of relief on your face with something like a small smile on your lips, grateful to see him again after such a long time and when everything in your life was chaos thanks to the preparation of the next games. Your eyes were closed, enjoying him holding you until you heard him say those words and then they opened in a combination of surprise and confusion.

―Don't think that being tired is an excuse for not coming to see me, Finnick Odair. That should always be the first thing you do as soon as you set foot here. ―You said, still thinking about why would he lie to you.

You moved apart from the hug and Finnick had a big smile on his lips that inevitably made you smile too. ―I'm sorry. ―He apologized.

―You better be. But now I need you to tell me if you like it.

You turned to grab your notebook and showed him the sketch you drew. Finnick took the notebook from your hands so he could take a better look and admire every detail.

―This is beautiful. You're an artist. I doubt there is anyone half as good as you in the whole Panem.

―Oh, there's Cinna. I haven't managed to dethrone him yet.

―Come on, you outdid Cinna a long time ago. He says so himself. The student surpassed the master, there's nothing wrong with that.

You shook your head and said nothing. Finnick rolled his eyes, he knew you didn't like hearing from him or anyone else that you were better than Cinna. Not even when Cinna himself tells you.

―Have you started sewing it yet? Can I see it?

―That's why I needed to see you. I haven't started yet because I need to measure you again. The last time you wore one of my garments it was too tight. I don't want to risk it not fitting you this time. ―You grabbed the measuring tape and pins from the table in your studio, full of fabrics and patterns for the new tributes. Cinna had given you his notebook with some beautiful sketches and had told you that he needed something similar but for the male tribute, a guy named Peeta Mellark from District 12, and you had been working day and night to meet Cinna's expectations. ―The robe is behind the dressing screen.

―Yes ma'am.

Finnick walked over without saying another word. You admired his figure as he walked away. Finnick's back was twice as wide as when you met him, his arms had grown stronger, now you could identify each of the muscles in them and his legs had also doubled in size, unfortunately, Finnick loved to wear long skirts, if it were up to you he would be showing them all the time. The features of his face had also changed, now they were more pronounced. Finnick's dimples were more visible and his jaw was so sharp you'd swear if you slid your finger along it you'd cut yourself.

―This looks great on you. I don't know why I try to design you something new every time. I should let you go around with that.

Finnick shook his head, failing in his attempt not to laugh at your stupid joke. ―You are not only the best designer but also the funniest one, huh?

You rolled your eyes. Finnick knew you didn't like it when he told you that and he did it on purpose to tease you. ―Come on, take it off.

Finnick stood before the mirror as you stood behind him. Once he slipped it off, you gasped and jumped back, horrified.

―Gosh, Finnick, what is this? ―You took a few steps backward at the sight of the bruises that trailed down his back. By their bright red color you would say were rather recent. You didn't know how to react, you were petrified staring at his back.

Finnick smiled, dismissing what you just saw with practiced charm. ―Ah, just a little souvenir. My lovers like to play rough. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.

That was the second lie Finnick told you that night.

Finnick's chest was heavy but he was trying to keep his cool. He had assumed that by the time the two of you saw each other the wounds would have healed, besides the fact that he didn't think he would have to undress in front of you.

―Your lovers? This absolute atrocity was done by one of your lovers?

―They were probably just a little too... enthusiastic. Besides, I don't have a problem with it, I like it. My skin heals fast so I'll be all good in no time.

And that was the third lie. His skin did not heal fast. You had always told him off for coming to dress rehearsals all bruised up from his training sessions and those bruises had lasted for days. These new ones were sure to stay on his skin for at least a month.

―How can some one like this?

Finnick could hear the disdain in your voice. You should be disgusted, horrified and definitely judging him, but don't worry, so was he.

―Honey, if you don't understand it's not my problem.

―No, you're right. I don't understand. I don't think you enjoyed that.

―Oh, you're gonna tell me what I can or cannot enjoy?

―Have you seen your back? Have you seen how bad this looks?

Finnick chuckled. ―I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this. Do you need all the details? Is the life of a stylist so boring?

―Finnick, listen to me. I don't want all the details I want the truth, and now it's the perfect time to start. ―You said. You grabbed him by his shoulders and turned him around to look at you. Finnick groaned as your hands were placed on his shoulders and when he stood face to face with you, he could see how upset you were.

―I don't know what you're talking about. ―He bit the inside of his cheeks, that was just what he had been told, not to tell anyone the truth about what had happened. He saw you roll your eyes and let all the air out of your body through your mouth, annoyed.

―I know that you didn't arrive yesterday. Cinna told me. Do you really think you can go unnoticed? Here? And I know for a fact that those bruises are not from one of your lovers, let alone that they were done to you a couple of days ago.

Finnick swallowed, looking at you with his head held high. He tried to keep the smile on his lips, pretending that everything was okay, that he did enjoy it when those bruises were inflicted on him, but his lower lip betrayed him and began to tremble. You bent down to pick up the robe and carefully threw it over his shoulders so he wouldn't feel so exposed. Finnick's head was bowed. You lifted it using your thumb and index finger on his chin very gently.

―I need you to tell me who did this to you. I can't help you if you don't tell me.

Finnick chuckled amid the sadness and shame he was feeling. ―Help me? You can't help me.

―I'm sure there's something I can do. I could―.

―They were Peacekeepers following Snow's orders.

Your jaw dropped and your heart rate accelerated. It was the first time that Finnick was admitting that to someone. It had been impossible to tell anyone, let alone a citizen of the Capitol like you. Finnick couldn't possibly admit that without compromising his carefully cultivated image. Besides, if he made himself out to be a victim, the Capitol would never allow someone they saw as weak to perform the role of the Golden Boy and all the people he cared about in District 4 would die. At that moment you realized that all the times he showed up at your studio claiming that his injuries were from training were not true and you felt sick to your stomach.

―How did it happen? ―You asked, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat

―I tried to leave the Capitol. Before I could get on the train back to District 4 I was arrested by Peacekeepers and they took me to Snow's mansion. A lot of people came and when I refused to see them... I've been locked up there since then, that's why I couldn't come to see you earlier.

You shook your head, feeling awful. ―Don't worry about it, Finnick. I'm so sorry this is happening to you. ―Your stomach complained and begged your brain to stop imagining everything that Finnick would have been put through since then. The beatings, the strangers paying to sneak into his bed, the Peacekeepers bursting into his room and leaving him bleeding on the floor...

―Snow likes me. There has to be something I can do for you.

―You don't understand. It's not something that I can quit.

―I can spend all day designing and sewing to pay Snow the money he would make with you. I can talk to Cinna to raise the price of our designs. People here are rotten with money, they'll keep buying them anyway.

―It's not that simple. You can't just buy my freedom.

―Has anyone tried before?

Finnick thought about it and shook his head. ―Snow wouldn't allow that to happen. ―You ran your hand over your face in despair, not knowing what else to do to help him and feeling a responsibility to do something about it. You were the citizen of the Capitol, the one who had superior status and the favor of Snow, there must be something you could do.

―What if I buy you?

Finnick's eyes widened in surprise. ―Buy me?

You nodded and realized how bad that sounded. ―But not in like, a slave type of way. Gosh that sounded awful. I would just― Do it so you can live your life in your district. I wouldn't― keep you here, no. You'd just have to come to the Capitol a couple of times, make a few public appearances, and leave again.

―Why would you do that for me?

You bit the inside of your cheeks and nodded. ―You're my friend. I care about you.

You had managed to give him something he had long been missing. Hope. Maybe what you wanted to do would work or maybe not but at that moment Finnick felt that someone cared and that gave him hope that everything would work out.

Finnick took a step forward and placed his hands on your cheeks. He leaned in slightly and connected his lips with yours. Your hands ended up resting against his warm bare chest, closing your eyes and allowing him to kiss you. You knew it was the emotion of the moment, the adrenaline rush of knowing that maybe he could live his life in peace. You had given him hope and he was happy that someone had shed some light on his situation.

When you parted ways after the kiss, you both were smiling.

―Go and put your pants on, I'll treat your bruises.

―Do you know how?

―Well, not really, but I'm not short of needle and thread and I still have some alcohol from last night.

Finnick pressed his lips together and nodded. That would work. He walked to the dressing screen and you watched him as he walked away in the mirror's reflection. Before hiding behind the dressing screen, he said something that lit up a flame in your heart and made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

―I wish you would come with me to District 4.

my requests for the hunger games are open 📥

[norrisleclercf1]

It’s A Lie

Pairing: Max Verstappen x wife!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Cursing, Medical talk, C#ncer, hospital, ANGST, etc.

Words: 2.2K

Request: Yes/No

A/N: Did I write this in an hour? Yep, since that race was…not the best, decided to make you actually feel things

Max had 3 top moments in his life. The 3rd was getting called up to drive for Red Bull. 2nd was winning his first World Driver's Championship. The 1st was a day he'll never forget, which was marrying you. It was a day filled with joy and tears. Max never thought you'd agree to marry him. When he was ready to ask, he thought about puking for fear of you saying no.  

But you said yes with a shake of your head and tears falling. Max couldn't control his emotions as he cried and hugged you close. The ring was wholly forgotten at the moment. No pictures were taken in a small private ceremony with the drivers and others. Just a memory for you and everyone else. 

Max snuck one picture of the wedding. He tasked Daniel with getting a Polaroid picture of your first kiss as a couple. Max kept the picture in his wallet and looked before every race. The two of you were perfect together. With his harsh temper on the track, he was calm and soft at home. The roles switched between you two. You were the harsh-tempered one at home. 

Max thought you hung the moon. He was so damn in love with you. Even considered retiring now just so the both of you could start a family. You laughed and kissed him. Telling him to enjoy his youth and speed. He nodded and pulled you closer, talking about everything and anything. 

He knew you better than you did, so when he noticed your slight change in sleep, he thought something was wrong. 

"Max, stop. I've been working slightly longer hours. I'm just catching up on some sleep." You laugh, fixing your usual coffee while your husband grimaces. "Snoepje, this isn't normal for you. Please just rest for the day." (little candy) Max pleads, but you just groan and slam your mug down. "Max, baby, I'm okay. I slept a little bit past my alarm." Max shakes his head and pulls his hair slightly. "Try 5 hours. It's the afternoon." He sighs, and you cock your head to the side. "What?" You spin and see the time. It wasn't 9 in the morning, but almost 1 in the afternoon. 

You usually woke around 6 or 7 in the morning to jog with Max, but this time. You slept well over your standard time. Maybe something was wrong. You didn't feel sick, perhaps just tired, but that was it. "Okay, so I was exhausted." You joke, yet your husband's stone face isn't in the mood for joking. 

"Okay, okay." You give up, knowing you wouldn't win this one, and email your boss saying you wouldn't be coming in. Your boss didn't have a problem with you taking the day off as you were always working. 

Max was already planning a vacation for both of you, wanting to take advantage of this. "Max, no. Come lay down with me." Giving your best puppy dog eyes, Max tries hard not to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his mind. "Snoepje, maybe go to the doctor." He pleads to move to lie on top of you, placing his head on your stomach. Closing his eyes, he listens to the soft thumps of your heartbeat before a thought comes to mind. "Wait? Could you be pregnant?" Sitting up fast, you choke on a laugh at his blinding happiness.  

"No, Max. I finished my period a few days ago." You sigh, closing your eyes again, and Max nods. "Maybe that's it. Your hormones are balancing back out, and you're tired." Humming in agreement, knowing he was convincing himself that everything was okay. "Yes, Max. Now lay down, please." You beg your hyperactive puppy of a husband. Max smiles and lies down, forgetting all about it. 

It wasn't till another 6 months when Max noticed you weren't the same self. This time you joined him for a race, as he was keen on keeping you close to ensure everything was okay. Laughing with Max, Christian, and Adrian, you felt lightheaded but waved it off. 

"Oh god, Y/n." Christian noticed it first, pulling Max's attention to see the small line of cherry red fall from your nose. "Snoepje!" Ge grabs a clean rag and pushes it to your nose, making you groan from the severe pressure. "Max, not so hard." You wheeze, unable to breathe, which has Max easing the tension. "Why is your nose bleeding?" Eyes wild with concern which have you giggling.

"Max, it's the pressure change in the climate. It happened to me all the time as a kid. "It'll stop soon. See?" Pulling the rag away, you dab your nose and show it isn't bleeding any more. Max sighs and knocks his forehead with yours, smiling like a fool from his freak-out. "Are you okay?" He whispers, watching Adrian and Christian back off, leaving the two of you alone. "Of course." You smile, lying to him, not wanting to tell him about you being lightheaded. 

"You promise?" Vulnerability all over him, hating when you lied to him or not telling him there was a problem. "Max. I promise you. I'm okay." You whisper and lean up, kissing your husband on the lips and then his ring. "Now, go win, and maybe I'll show you just how okay I am." You giggle and reach down, grabbing him, which has him shiver and pull away. Laughing, he nods and goes to win the race. 

After 2 months, you started to notice a severe problem. There was indeed something wrong. Those nosebleeds and being lightheaded became more frequent because Max told the team he couldn't race one weekend and stay home with you. After fighting, he was away for a race, and you were in the doctor's office. Getting the news of what was wrong with you was received with a smile and a nod leaving to call Max. 

"Anemic? That's fucking it?" Max snaps over the phone while you fix your tea, something to help calm your nerves. "Anemia, yes, that's what the doctor said." Closing your eyes, you wait for the room's spinning to fade. "No. No. That doctor is fucking stupid. There is no way with the bloody noses and you almost fainting anytime you move; it can't just be fucking ANEMIA!" In the end, he's yelling. In the background, you hear JP telling Max to go somewhere else. 

"Max, they said I have severe anemia and just need to change my diet and take some pretty hefty iron supplements." You sip your tea and lie on the couch, exhaustion settling deep into your bones. "I'm coming home, fuck this race." He curses more in Dutch, refusing to be away from you like this. "Baby, don't. This is a huge race for you and Red Bull. I'm fine, okay? Chrissy is coming over later to cook. So I won't be alone." Chrissy being your maid and chief, was like a second mother. "Y/n, I'm not fighting this. I must be home with you, not driving some metal around circles. You're more important." He spits, hearing hurried rustling, and you take deep breaths to control your temper. 

"Max Emilian Verstappen! Don't you fucking come home! If you do, I'll divorce you." You snap, tired of him freaking out over your health. Silence is met before Max chuckles. "Then we're getting a divorce. I'm coming home." Max hangs up, and you sigh, giving up. 

"Y/n? Darling? It's me." You wake to Chrissy yelling and walking into the living room and stop seeing your state. "Let's take a shower and get some color in you. Before Max sees." Chrissy knew the truth and was helping you. It ate at you every day, but you wanted to live an everyday life as much as possible.  

"He's on the way home." You whisper, Chrissy nodding, helping you to the shower. 

"Y/N! Chrissy!" Max's voice booms through the house, and it meets with laughter. Heading to the kitchen, and sees you smiling and laughing. You look healthy and happy. Color blushed your skin and saw life back in you; maybe it was just anemia. 

"Snoepje." You turn and smile at him widely. "Guess we're getting that divorce, hmm?" You playfully push him, but Max grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest. You hide your pain and wrap your arms around his waist. "We'll get a divorce when I die." He jokes, kissing the top of your head before leaning over and kissing Chrissy's temple. He mouths a thank you, and Chrissy smiles and returns to cooking. Max stayed away from the track for almost 3 months. 

His first weekend back and winning, he'll never forget getting that phone call after the race, thinking it was you congratulating him. Except he's met with Chrissy crying, loud beeps in the back, hurried shouts, and Chrissy telling Max to come home now. Rushing home, he goes to the hospital, breaking every law in history to get to you. Max was still in his race suit. That's how fucking scared he was. 

"Chrissy!" Seeing her, he rushes to her as she cries softly, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She sobs, pulling away from Max. "What are you sorry about? Chrissy? What's going on?" Max yells as Chrissy shakes her head and rushes out, unable to handle seeing him fall apart. 

"Will someone tell me what the FUCK IS GOING ON!" He roars, panic pumping through his veins as a nurse rushes to his side. "Mr. Verstappen, we need you to lower your voice." The nurse speaks in a soft tone leading him to a room. 

Pushing the door open, Max sobs softly, seeing your state. A shell of yourself lay on the bed. How could you come to this state before him? Thin, so very thin, hair dull and stringy. How could he have missed this? Why didn't he see this? He was home; what did he miss? He moves to your side, lifts up your hand, and wails behind his hand so he doesn't wake you.  

"Late-stage glioblastoma. Shame we caught it so late. Nothing we can do now. She signed a DNR." A nurse sighs, checking your vitals, and Max lifts his head. "What? What's a glioblastoma, a fucking DNR? What's going on?" The nurse turns, and her eyes widen, seeing the confused look on his face. 

"Let me get the doctor." Rushing out of the room, an older man with a pristine white coat walks in and closes the door. He moves around silently and takes his jacket off. 

"They tell me you are unaware of what is going on with your wife." his voice was soft but static like he was even having a hard time doing this. "She has severe anemia. Why are they saying she has something called glioblas-glioblastoma and signed a DNR. What the fuck is a DNR?" Max's foot bounces, holding your hand, praying you open your eyes. 

"Glioblastoma is a form of brain cancer. It's uncurable. Your wife is in the late stages. Meaning treatment will not help. I diagnosed her a little over a year ago. Treatment was working, but......sadly I told her not too long ago we couldn't do anything else." Taking a deep breath, the doctor continues. "A DNR means Do Not Resucitate. When her heart rate stops, we can't perform life-saving measures. Mr. Verstappen...I'm so very sorry." 

Max laughs and shakes his head, having heard nothing after being told it was cancer. It was static around him. You have been dying this entire time and never once told him. How could this have happened? 

"I was home. I took time off, and she was dying before me; how could I not see this?" He asks, not wanting an answerback. "I'll leave you be." The doctor whispers and leaves as Max moves closer, burying his head into your stomach and crying. "How could you do this?" He sobs. 

"I'm sorry." He yanks away and sees you awake, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Why? I would've retired. I would've stayed by your side the entire time. We could've done so many things together. Why?!" He yells, and you just move your hand cupping his face. 

"And have you watched me die? Max, I couldn't handle that." You whisper, but your husband just shakes his head. "I hate you." He snaps like a child but regrets it when it leaves his mouth. "That's okay. I hate myself too." You whisper and wince in pain, hitting a small red button, and Max watches you relax when the medicine hits. 

"Promise me something?" You ask as beeps fill the room, Max becoming aware again of everything. "Anything." He whimpers, pulling you into him. "Love again." Kissing his hand that cups your cheek, Max shakes his head no.

"Yes. You'll find someone you love, and I want you to remember I sent them to you for a reason. Don't push them away, Max. Cherish them." You whisper, making Max sob all over again, and he gathers you in his arms like a child. 

"I love you." He whimpers, the beeping slowing as he just holds you, the only sound of the slow beeping, but soon, even that was gone. 

[slushycoookie]

Roleplay Date ~ Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Content: You and Miguel do some roleplay, mostly fluff, starts to get suggestive occasionally and near the end, MINORS DNI!!

A/N: Wanted to do a quick idea of you doing a role-play date with Miguel! Enjoy!

He should be here any minute now.

The time on your phone was your favorite thing to look at when you stepped into the bar. You tried to relax with a sip of your margarita, the slightly sour taste of apple dancing across your palate, but your mind kept wandering. How was this going to go? Would it be awkward? Or would it fail if someone tried to steal your man? You had a few other people try to talk to you while you sat but to your relief, disappeared when they saw you weren't that interested.

You had no reason to be nervous. Couples go on role-play dates all the time. You read their ideas and their experiences. It should be fun.

Thirty minutes passed and you saw your husband.

You caught your breath at his change of appearance. A green cardigan, with the top button undone. His white pants contrasted in color but somehow worked well with his black suede loafers. Miguel looked good. You always knew he could be, but this was a little different. You tried not to gawk as you sipped your drink again, pretending the menu was more interesting than anyone else. He wasn't too far from your seat but you caught a whiff of his cologne, earthy with sharp hints of mint. It's one you've never smelled before.

Miguel ordered a rum and coke as you tried to decide what to eat. Maybe some sliders? Or there was a sampling platter you could try. But you also saw sushi on the menu.

“Hi.”

You perked up, heart banging in your chest as you turned to him. He was even better up close. And…did he change his hair? It was parted to the side, not slicked back like his usual style. Miguel usually changes his hair on special occasions. You tried to hold back admiring his brown curls shining in the dim light as you remembered he spoke to you.

“Hi.” A light smile appeared on your face.

“Do you come here often?”

You bit your lip, wondering if you two should have developed a script. But you wanted the interaction to be natural since it's the first time roleplaying like this. “No, I don’t. This is my first time.”

“Alone?” Miguel raised an eyebrow as you nodded, “Someone like you shouldn’t be alone on a night like this.”

Curious, you played with your straw by swirling it in your drink, “What's someone like me?”

“Gorgeous.”

He was eyeing your outfit. A simple black dress that gave much attention to your cleavage. Paired with small matching black heels. You weren't the type to wear this sort of thing but you wanted to try something new. And give your husband something to stare at.

Your poker face was impenetrable, despite wanting to forget everything and immediately go into the hotel room. “You're gonna have to do better than that.”

Miguel smirked before signaling to the bartender that he would pay for anything you wanted for the rest of the night. She gave you a look to make sure you agreed and you nodded. He motioned to the seat beside you and you invited him to stay.

“I’m Miguel.” You gave him yours and he said it as if he’s never said it before. A tingle shot through your spine. “May I ask why you decided to go to the bar tonight?”

“I wanted a drink.” You shrugged, “And I heard this hotel was nice.”

“It is.” He took a sip of his drink, eyes never far from yours.

“Oh? You’ve been here before?”

“Many times. I’ve always been satisfied with the service when I go here on business.”

You hum in delight, “So you’re a businessman?”

“Not quite.” He gives a soft chuckle, “I’m a scientist, that unfortunately has to go on business trips.”

You knew that part about him. He always hated going on trips because that meant he’d be away from you. “What do you specialize in?”

“Genetics.” You had to hold back in smiling hard, seeing his eyes light up at any mention of his work. The conversation was interrupted momentarily when the bartender asked what you wanted to eat. You and Miguel decided to share a sushi platter with an assortment of flavors each of you could try.

And your margarita was also gone, so you decided to get a daiquiri, wanting something a little bit sweeter to combat the sourness you had.

“So you’re a geneticist?” You asked, picking the conversation back up, “That’s fascinating. I’ve never met any geneticists. Especially ones as good-looking as you. Must be in your genes.”

A flash of your husband came out as Miguel’s eyes lowered at your terrible joke. Even you snorted at your words. “Funny. So I’m guessing your profession is a comedian.”

“No way.” You shook your head, “Not by a long shot.”

“Thank god.”

You gasped, pretending to be insulted while watching him hold back a laugh behind his straw. “Rude.”

“I’m just saying. I wouldn’t have high hopes in your career after that joke.”

The air was light and comfortable. Any semblance of nervousness you had previously faded away. That could've just been the alcohol though.

“So since you specialize in genetics, you know all the good stuff. Punnett squares, why people with blue eyes are rare, that sort of thing.”

Miguel nodded, “Usually we're able to find all of your genetic markings through your blood.”

“I'm not scared of getting my blood drawn.” You confidently say, “You think you'd find anything good in my genes?”

He hums in thought, moving closer to slide his hand up your bare forearm, placing his thumb between your arm and bicep. His touch was warm, almost burning your skin up. “Maybe. As long as you hold still.”

“Only if you're gentle.” You let out a low sigh. Your husband staring directly into your eyes, rubbing his thumb against your skin. You're so close to fast-forwarding this date and getting in his pants.

It was to your luck that the food came, causing you and him to part so you could dine in. Husband mode came back as he handed you the wasabi. Your lips curled, knowing he wasn't the biggest fan of it when he accidentally put a huge smear on his roll, eating it whole. You pictured his eyes tearing up and his face scrunching up was hilarious.

“You don't like wasabi?”

Miguel’s head shook with disdain, “Not a fan. It's too hot for my tastes.”

“That's because you put too much on there when you shouldn’t have-” You immediately shut your lips, trying to fix your words. “I mean, plenty of people put a lot on there. It’s a common mistake.”

He ignored your slip up, “Then can you show me how much is adequate for me?”

“Of course.” You took a little piece using your chopsticks, placing it on his sushi roll as if it were delicate. You watched as he ate the piece, shoulders lowered in satisfaction. “See, not that hot right?”

“Not at all.” He then asked about your job which you proceeded to describe as boring. Not as exciting as his geneticist one. While you did so, Miguel kept showing his husband side, making sure you had your fill. As he listened intently. The stranger façade started to fade as you two were starting to act like a married couple again. You’re sure anyone from a mile away could see it.

But you didn’t care. You were full, mind a little clouded from the alcohol and the night was winding down. The time on your phone was almost eleven at night.

Miguel slipped his black card to the bartender, paying for the meal and drinks. You gazed at his form, not believing that you were married to this man.

“Do you have a ride home?” He asked. You knew he made arrangements to book a room at the hotel, but knowing him he’d wanted to make sure the date ended on a satisfying note.

“I’m looking at it.”

His eyes went wide at the flirtatious line for a moment. “Bold, are we?”

“Maybe.” Your playful smirk drew him closer as he leaned into your ear.

“You can ride me in our room.”

You two sped walk towards the elevator. Miguel’s finger repeatedly pressed the down button to make it go faster. Your body was hot, breathing speeding up as you couldn’t hold on much longer. You never knew how slow elevators were when its doors creaked open. The two of you rushed inside and once it was closed, were immediately on each other.

Hot breaths, messy kisses, and hands groping every single part of your bodies filled the space. The cold steel wall was felt on your back as Miguel trapped you, his hard body pressed against your own. He hiked up your leg to wrap around his waist while sucking on your neck. Creating a few marks on your skin.

The dings from the elevator going up were the only thing keeping you together. Otherwise, you were sure he was going to fuck you inside.

“Wait.” Miguel parted, his face stained from your lipstick, hair messy from the exchange. “Do you have your ring?”

You nodded, getting it from your purse. Before you could put it on, he did it for you, slipping it through your ring finger where it belonged. He grabbed his own from his pocket, before slipping it on.

“That’s better.”

Just in time, the elevator stopped on your floor. Miguel picked you up with ease and dashed to the room to continue where you left off.

[bunnyluvs-blog]

txt reactions: bf!txt when you wear their shirt (smut)

tags ! Suggestive/smut ,, Somnophila ,, thigh riding ,, blindfoldeds ,, degrading ,, semi public sex ,, eating out (will make a full smut on one member if requested)

Soobin: You always wait for soobin to come home from work. No matter what. However this time, you spent all day hard at work you could barely keep your eyes open on the drive home. You took a quick shower and just threw on whatever you grabbed firsts. Snuggle into the bed, hell it wasn't even your side of the bed. You fell asleep hoping soobin would understand. Well once soobin came home and saw you in his shirt, he was done for. Slowly lifting up his shirt on you, he left small marks and hickeys all over your chest. He knew you had a thing for Somnophilia. And it was one of his major turn ons so why not test it out on his pretty little bunny <3

Yeonjun: While he was in the kitchen making coffee for you guys. You were getting ready for the day. You decided to wear one of your many shirts that you stole from your boyfriend. This one he wore to the ama 2022 award show however. it was too long to be worn as a normal shirt. So you threw on some small shorts and a belt to make it a semi-dress. Without the shorts- if ur raised ur arms ur ass and everything else could be seen. You made your way to your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around him. A soft "hi baby" leaves his mouth as he turns around to face you. Only to see the opening of ur chest pushed up against him. You're ass peaking out since you were on ur tippy toes ? Did he forget to mention how pretty you look in his shirt with your cum running down his leg ? He will just have to show you then.

Beomgyu: God fuck how were you this perfect? Blind fold covering your face as he fucked you in his shirt. The soft fabric didn't even cover much since well- he unbuttoned the whole thing after he got you where you are now. You're moans filling the room as the shirt sleeves slide off of you. "Aww look at you, you're so small my shirt can't even stay on you" he said in a mocking tone as he fucked you harder. He was always one to talk down on you when you were just so submissive too him. He didn't even have to fight u to get the blindfold on. You just listened to him like the dumb pup you are.

Taehyun: "What are you some kinda fucking whore?" God was he pissed off. You looked so damn good while you guys went to the park for your date. A short skirt, Knee socks, and his damn shirt unbuttoned almost to where you could see your chest. Well now the shirt is well off of you. The Starbucks restroom door locked as teahyun bends you over the skin. "Showing over everything damn thing you have, and in your own boyfriends shirt." He hasn't even touched you where u need him most. Hes just been hitting ur ass over and over and over again, you're sure your screams can be heard from the people outside. He pulled your head back by ur hair. "You. Car. Now. You're gonna sit and not whine or beg until we're home. And if you do I'm not gonna let you fucking cum at all." Oh boy did your plan work

Huening kai: you were snuggled up on the couch with hyuka just watching a movie. You've felt as if your plan to make him fuck you failed. And you were just so fed up. You wore his shirt after hearing what your friends bf did to her after she wore his. And damnit you wanted that treatment too. Little did you know hyuka wasn't doing any better then you were. Every 2 minutes you had to pull the shirt back up from falling off. Your damn chest being flashed to him so much. This last time tho, he couldn't take it. Flipping you onto ur back and pulling your panties down to your ankle. Hyuka was done with waiting. "Huen ? What are you doing..?" You ask as if you had no clue. "Im gonna take you let me eat you please..pleaseee you look so good in my shirt I can't hold back" You didn't even get s chance to answer when he licked your clit slowly <3

Reminder !! If a story is requested from one of these I'll probably do it !!

[ci3n]

relationship hc’s with lucifer

note: some hc’s for my boo boo bear cause he’s so baby and i just love him so much :(

At the beginning of your relationship, Lucifer doesn’t really know how to initiate anything, so if he wanted to let’s say sit or lay down with you, he would just roam around you, pretending to do something or asking you the same questions repeatedly in hopes that you'd notice him and call him to you. When you finally ask him if he wants to sit with you because you noticed how he was cleaning the same spot over and over again while side-eyeing you, he’s so happy. "Well, I've got a lot of things to do, but I suppose I can sit with you for a little while.” pls lucifer

He always stays up with you if you have to stay up late for something, no matter how tired he is. If he's also working, he’ll just get you to do it in his study so you two can be together, and if he isn't, he’ll sit beside you patiently waiting for you to finish. Also brings you snacks from time to time and makes sure you stay hydrated as well. He likes keeping you company and making sure you don’t put too much pressure on yourself (also can’t sleep without you in his arms, but he won’t say that)

Loves it so much when you play with his hair, like, yes, please brush your fingers through his hair and tell him about your day. He has a huge, satisfied smile on his face the entire time and he’ll also softly hum sometimes without realising it, but don’t ever point it out though he won’t ever do it again.

He sometimes watches you sleep; he knows it’s sort of weird, but you just look so peaceful that he can’t help it, and he can stare at you as long as he wants without you teasing him.

Lucifer loves cooking with you; there’s just something so relaxing about it. Just the two of you cooking together and talking about your day without anyone else to bother you guys (his brothers do interrupt sometimes, but one look from him and they’re gone)

Coming back to the early stages of your relationship, he’ll be a bit hesitant with affection at first. Being protecting and caring for everyone his entire life, Lucifer finds it to be a rather foreign feeling and forgets that he too deserves someone to be there for him. Therefore, it does take him some time to adjust. But as he gets used to it, he reciprocates the affection tenfold. He loves you so so much, and he’s going to do everything in his power to make you feel like the most important person in his life because you are.

[charmercharm3r]

it’s 12am, i have work at 9 but i literally cannot stop thinking about leeknow showering together fluff like it’s invading my thoughts rn

he’d be so sweet and gentle outside of bed (plenty of teasing as always) im just obsessed with the thought

-🌙 <3

i need a little sweetness on my page rn so here’s some food for thought :)

Masterlist

minho’s so gentle natured already, and also very touchy. showering together is a must! at least three times a week! it’s minho-law, strictly enforced or face the consequences (he’d only kiss ur forehead instead of ur lips for two days straight).

he likes to close the toilet lid and sit on it to watch while you undress so he can make you all flustered— we all know he has a staring problem, especially with his beloved. he won’t go out of his way to tease you during these softer times, but if the moment happens to present itself, he’s not gonna shy away. say you forget to grab another towel so you have to share one between the both of you. minho will use it on himself first while you stand there like a soggy lil puppy until he’s done, only then does he hand it to you and runs to get a fresh, clean one to wrap around your shoulders.

but if there isn’t one of those moments (rare), he likes to do everything for you. washing your hair, soaping your body, even helping you shave if you wanted. tbh it’s all an excuse to keep a hand on you at all times cus he’s touchy like that, and his love language is acts of service with a hint of physical skinship. i think he’d be the type to get in the shower with you even if he’d already taken one just to be near you, and encourages you to tell him about your day while you’re stuck in there with him. “you can’t leave, or else you’ll be dirty. so either you can be stinky in bed or you can let me listen to you talk. choose wisely.”

on days he especially misses you, he’ll even dry your hair and help you apply lotion. his favorite part is skin care, sitting you on the nearest high surface to be eye level or taller than him and he can apply all your products with such a delicate touch. for lip balm, he puts it on himself, then leans in to kiss you. “what’s yours is mine, what’s mine is yours. that includes lip balm.”

[seishiroh]

— i dreamt you loved me / nagi seishiro x reader.

— light angst. college!au. friends w/ benefits; mentions of sex & suggestive scenes. pining & kind of idiots in love.

— note: surely, i write the next part.

nagi seishiro looks beautiful.

it's silly to think, really. when you met nagi in your first year of college, you thought you'd hate him.

he'd been arrogant. he'd sleep through lectures while you'd take down notes, yet when the exam results came, it's his name above yours. to this day, you're not sure if it was an unfortunate thing that you'd been long term friends with isagi. because then, perhaps he wouldn't have persuaded you to help tutor their study group for the rest of the semester.

a study group where you meet bachira, reo, and (with isagi's head on your hit list) nagi seishiro—who, despite being top of that class, refused to be of any help to his own friends.

(when you came, though, he'd finally start muttering how to answer the questions. most of his attention on his game console and when you're not looking, trained on your face—as if he'd been trying to figure you out. as if he wants you to recognize that he's there.)

what you'd thought you'd deal with for only a semester, turns out to become your group of friends.

nagi, who you'd thought you'd hate, turned to become your crush.

you suppose your first mistake was thinking it was nothing; it's a crush, it doesn't really mean anything other than you're attracted to him. that's what you kept telling yourself until it's six months later and you're starting to feel suffocated by the terrible fact that you'd genuinely started to like nagi—more than a friend should.

as all things come and go, you think the same of the skipping of your heartbeat when nagi is around.

if you're honest, you're not even quite sure what prompted your feelings. sometimes, you think he's just so effortlessly impressive when you get to know him that it becomes difficult to look past it. sometimes, you think it's the comfort in what seems like intimate skinship between the both of you—his unashamed way of reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear no matter who was looking, your arm around his bicep when you're walking together, his head on your lap when you're studying and he couldn't be bothered to do the same.

instead of fading, your feelings grew like a well-loved flower blooming in the spring.

nagi seishiro looks beautiful.

especially when he's draping his body over yours on the couch the moment he comes through the door of your apartment; but you have company and you don't miss the way isagi and bachira share a look, quick to make a comment.

"huh? nagicchi, are you finally dating y/n?"

"...eh?" he groans before sluggishly sitting up, not really even sparing anyone a glance as he reaches for his phone. "no, why would i do that?"

isagi is quick to meet your eye, because he knows, because it's so obvious.

you clear your throat, picking up your pen. still, your voice cracks, "y-yeah, why would we—that's—"

you're grasping at nothing as the sound of nagi's game filters in. it's still bachira who speaks up, a finger held up to his face, "why wouldn't you, though? y/n's cool and you like her, right? nagicchi?"

you feel your heart dropping to your stomach.

nagi hums, quick to respond this time. "yeah but i don't really want a relationship. working hard for something like that… sounds so tiring."

you're not sure where to pay attention to. the yeah or everything else after that? yeah, you're cool or yeah, he liked you in the way you've always wanted him to? but nagi doesn't really allow you to think further. after all, he's shutting down any chances you have before you even knew there was any.

you must be insane, then.

when they leave and nagi stays, all you're left with is tension. it's unfortunate because nagi gets clingier when it's just the two of you, shuffling once in a while to lean on your shoulder.

you think you're fine, but you seem to forget just how perceptive nagi could get. he sighs, drawn out, and you could only squeak in surprise when he brings his hand to your face, tilting you to look back at him. eyebrows furrowed, frowning as he stares at you, reading you perfectly, "why're you so tense?"

"i'm not—"

"you like me, right?" it's not a question at all when he says it out loud. your answering nod is simply an accessory. 

you can feel the back and forth brush of his thumb on your cheek and his hand snaking to your waist, pulling you closer, "and you'd let me kiss you?"

you level his stare, trying to get something. anything.

"only if you like me too, sei…"

your breath is hot and your heart is on the line, nagi brushes his lips against yours, then presses, and finds all the ways to make you whimper with his familiar touch.

there's no answer.

not even in the morning after.

nagi seishiro looks beautiful. 

lying on his stomach, the duvet shrugged just halfway his torso, and a few pink scratches across his back.

but you should get up.

truthfully, though, your legs ache and nagi's bed is comfortable. were you given a choice, you'd stay here instead of getting ready for your class. then, you'd revel in the comfort of nagi's arm slung around your waist and the heat of his bare body pressed against yours ever so slightly.

except you shouldn't. it's not like he's your boyfriend. in fact, you shouldn't even have stayed the night.

it's a rule you've given yourself a few months after your rendezvous with nagi started. you can't let yourself stay after sex, not with the feelings that have been brewing over you until now.

you get up, go to class, then you promise yourself you'd stop caving in the next time nagi is pulling you back to bed—voice lazy, raspy, and so, so persuasive.

"aren't you tired?" he'd murmur against his pillow, his hand wrapped around your wrist willing you to stay.

of course you are, but you think you'd rather brave it than stay with him in bed like couples do; yearning to hear him say something unlike himself, like how he wishes you'd be his girlfriend.

but he doesn't and you're not.

in the end, you still find yourself beneath his sheets and when he's asking you to stay again—like you're not just a friend he fucks, you start to wonder if he's changed his mind yet.

"it's bothersome, y/n. you should just bring a bag so you don't have to leave after." he turns while you're sitting up on his bed. "just let some of your stuff stay here," he tells you carelessly.

"i'm not your girlfriend, sei."

"i'm not asking you to be, though, just—"

the breath you take is sharp, cutting him off, "that's the problem. you can't just say those things, sei."

"you're getting worked up over nothing, y/n. i don't see the big deal," he replies. 

so turn to him, frustrated, "the big deal is that i'm in love with you, you dumbass!"

it feels silly when you finally say it, but you feel stuck. in your feelings, in what he so selfishly wants, in what you're always so willing to give him.

a beat passes and still, all you get is his silence. you scoff, pushing away the sheets, "you know, for someone so smart, you're so awfully dense, nagi."

it's the last thing you tell him before you're gathering your things and walking out the door.

finally, he doesn't do anything to stop you. you should be relieved, but all you get is heartache.

being in the same circle, it doesn't take long for you to figure out that nagi has been avoiding you. in the lecture hall, instead of sitting next to you like he usually does, careless that he's late—nagi starts sitting across the room, far away from you.

you understand you might've sounded so mad before, when you blurted out how you were in love with him. it makes you wince in embarrassment now that you think of it but what's done is done. so you think maybe that's why he's avoiding you, aside from your feelings he clearly had no interest in.

isagi, bachira, and reo must know by now too. if the way they avoid mentioning nagi to you or covering up about how nagi can't make it to hang out with you guys is any indication.

this is what makes you take the defeat. nagi only had them, after all.

before you. 

you start telling them you won't make it and start hanging out with other people. one of them, yukimiya kenyu.

you have most of your classes with him and lately, he's been taking the spot next to you where nagi used to be. he's sweet, nice—he's charming in an effortless way.

and he's waiting by the door outside your lecture hall after class. it's the only one you have without him, it's the one he's been waiting by, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

you can feel your cheeks heating up because everyone else is filtering out the door when he pulls you to the side.

"hey," he greets you with a beautiful smile.

"hey, what are you doing here?" your voice is small, unconsciously shy.

"i just wanted to hand you these, and ask if you're free after this," he seems almost sheepish, the way he holds the bouquet out to you, no matter how confident you know he is.

your breath hitches. the flowers are beautiful, in your favorite colors, as if he's letting you know he's been paying attention to you.

you want to agree, but it's a different voice that replies to him before you could.

"c'mon, y/n. isagi said they're at the cafe," nagi says loud enough for yukimiya to hear, his hand reaching out to clasp with yours.

it takes you by surprise, enough to dodge him completely. it's been weeks since he last spoke to you, not even in this class where you only knew each other.

yukimiya is there to watch it, the way you react to nagi seishiro and the way nagi is looking at you like he wants to take you away. he thinks you probably don't see it. he likes you, as a friend and more than that, and he wonders if—as a good friend—he should tell you that nagi looks at you like he loves you.

you stammer, looking for the words to say before shaking your head. "just tell them i can't make it today, nagi."

"you haven't come to hang out with us for a while though," nagi's answer is quick, sounding defiant.

you glance at yukimiya, wrapping your arm around his, hoping he won't walk out on you because of how awkward this is.

"i can just come next time, nagi," you force a smile. "but yeah, yukki and i should get going."

luckily, yukimiya plays along, humming in thought and mentioning the drive you'll have to take. it's enough for you to be able to bid nagi goodbye.

nagi watches you walk away, your hand reaching out to hold the bouquet. he can hear your soft voice thanking yukimiya for the flowers, slowly getting farther and farther away from him. 

and as if the world was there to mock him, a single, small flower from your bouquet slips and flows with the wind.

landing in front of him.

he doesn't know why, but he reaches to take it, bringing it home with him.

[lilgoblinbitch]

The Archer Finds a Soulmate 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

girl dad!daryl dixon x fem!reader

a/n: this idea was offered by @yummymeee !! was trying to find fluffy daryl prompts and this one stuck with me.

summary: Daryl is a father of a young girl and has always had trouble trusting new people. When he meets you, everything changes.

warnings: none really, typical twd stuff, just some angst and fluff at the end :)

Daryl Dixon was left raising a child in the apocalypse. He didn't expect to find himself taking care of a baby all by himself after the mother of his child ended up hiding it from him, and on her death bed begging Daryl to keep the baby safe. Of course, Daryl would love his baby girl till the day he died. She was the light of his life. She was the only thing left in this cruel world that reminded him of what made life worth living.

Five years after the start of the apocalypse, Daryl was extremely lucky to have been part of a large community that actually showed not only him, but his little girl, charity and companionship. All he wished for was a safe home and chance for his daughter to grow up happy. Because he never got to have a happy childhood himself, it almost felt imperative for him to manifest his own happiness and prosperity by giving his own kid that opportunity.

"Jasmine! Get outta that pile'a crap and c'mere!"

The five-year-old girl lay on her back in mound of dirt and leaves, swishing her arms and legs back and forth. "Daddy, look! I'm making a dirt angel!"

Daryl scoffed as he peered over at his daughter, who was collecting bits of leaves and sticks and dirt in her hair and probably covering every inch of the fabric of her outfit. An outfit that Carol had recently washed, because it originally got stained with orange juice and pudding. Unfortunately little predicaments like that were bound to happen to any little kid. It didn't bother Daryl, he just didn't want to put more of a burden on Carol.

Daryl stood up from the log he was sitting on, setting the dead rabbit he was working on skinning to the side. "Jas! Ya want food or not?" He called out, waving the playful child over to him. She perked her head up at him, her dark curly hair now decorated with bits of colorful leaves and sticks, almost making her hair look like a Christmas tree in some way. The child obeyed and jumped up from the ground, shaking off the dirt that layered her clothing. And of course, they needed to be washed again.

Joining her father by the fire, Jasmine plopped down on the log across from him and simpered at him. He smiled back after examining her youthful grin and spotting the smeared dirt on her face. "Ya got dirt on yer face, silly girl. Here, wipe yer hands and face with this." He handed her a towel, one that was adorned with pink and purple flowers. She loved that little beach towel. She snatched it out of her father's hands and hastily rubbed it all over her face and hands, then tossing it on the ground. Daryl sighed in distress.

"How many more things of yers we gotta ask Carol to wash?"

"We're outside, daddy. There is dirt, and you say dirt makes us dirty. So it's got to make everything else dirty, right?" Her enthusiasm never failed to make him grin and forget what he was even upset at her about.

"A'ight, watch me, ready?" Daryl grabbed the dead rabbit and continued skinning it, making sure Jasmine was watching him. Her face contorted in disgust.

"I don't wanna do that, daddy! It's gross and it hurts the rabbit."

He ignored her complaining and continued skinning it. "It's dead already. Didn't feel any pain, I promise," he reassured the child. "I just needed to show ya how yer dad makes yer all-time favorite food: rabbit stew."

The little girl shook her head. "No, my favorite food is Carol's cookies, and the Kingdom's cobbler!"

Daryl rolled his eyes, finishing up skinning the rabbit and then sticking it on a stick and placing it over the fire. Throughout their meal, Daryl told her about the time he first ever had to eat rabbit, and how he was around her age. His daughter was always absolutely thrilled to hear stories, especially from her father. She admired him more than he realized. And she looked forward to every Thursday afternoon, because that's when Daryl took her out for walks in the woods, pointing out various plants and showing her how to differentiate between animal tracks and walker tracks. Of course, she was too young to fully understand everything he taught her, but it made him more comfortable knowing that she was learning early on.

Some nights Daryl lay awake, tossing and turning only to say "fuck it" and go out in the woods where he could ease his mind, while his daughter was already fast asleep in the room across the hall. He loved being alone in the woods; just him and no one else to disturb him for a few hours.

However, one night he ended up acquiring company from an unexpected individual: you. Daryl didn't know very much about you, besides the fact that you joined Alexandria not too long after he and his group did. You were quiet and reserved, always keeping to yourself and never being found in large crowds because you were always more content when alone. Daryl often found himself following you into the woods to see what you even did out there, but you were just too quick to spy on. And truthfully, you were afraid of Daryl. You had seen how similar he was to you in some ways; his love for nature and serenity and the comfort of being isolated from the loudness of the community you lived in. You observed him going into the woods and not coming back out for hours, just as you did. He ended up becoming a valued member of Alexandria as he helped Aaron recruit new members to the community. He was becoming more outspoken than you, and that seemed to make you nervous.

Tonight, curiosity got the best of you and you decided to go and see what it was that Daryl the archer father did late at night in the woods, all alone.

Daryl did not anticipate anyone to be as good of a tracker as he was, especially in the dark of night. But being the daughter of a hunter father ended up advantaging you with that skill. So when he heard footsteps and prepared to send an arrow flying and landing between the eyes of a walker, but ended up being face to face with you, he was surprised to say the least.

"Hey, um, Daryl right?" Your flashlight beamed onto his face, and he squinted. "Sorry," you turned it off and shoved it in your pocket, "I just, um...I always see you out here, and I'm always out here, so..."

"So what?" Daryl wasn't in the mood for visitors, especially not annoyingly beautiful women such as yourself. You made him nervous.

Daryl kicked the dirt around with his feet, not looking up at you as you continued to speak to him. "Look, I'm not really a people person, and you probably want nothing to do with me because I never talked to you before...but I–" you stopped to look down at the dirt and shuffle your feet in it as well, involuntarily mimicking Daryl. "I dunno, I just need a friend, I think."

You could feel Daryl's eyes on you now, the glow of the small fire illuminating his auburn hair and the specks of hair on his beard. You swallowed hard, becoming a nervous wreck under his hard gaze. "Why me?" Was all he managed to say after studying your face. You finally made eye contact with him after mustering up the courage to do so. He had pretty eyes.

"Because I think we're alike in a lot of ways." You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and leaned against the thick tree beside you. "And honestly, you're one of the only people I know of that has better tracking skills than me," you added, voice soft and unsure. Unsure of what the mysterious man in front of you was thinking. It seemed like he had so much going on in his head all the time, and that's because he did. His thoughts raced, thoughts about you and how pretty you looked under the sparkling fire and why the hell you were talking to a loser single dad like him.

But you didn't see him like that. You were intimidated by him – always have been, except this time he intimidated you in a way you never expected. He made you want to open up to him, because you could tell now that he was just like you. You went your whole life never wanting to be seen by anyone, but Daryl changed that.

Daryl's lack of words left you in your thoughts once again. What if that was his sign for you to scram? What if he hated you? What if he thought you were a fucking creep for sneaking up on him in the middle of the night in the woods? You couldn't handle the fear of rejection so you took matters into your own hands.

Sighing in defeat, you turned on your heal and started for the other direction back to Alexandria, until you were abruptly stopped in your tracks.

"Wait."

Daryl did not wish for you to leave. He believed you. You were like him. "Ya wanna come hunting?"

Your eyes lit up in elation, and you smiled at him. "Yeah, I'd love to."

After a only a few weeks, you and Daryl became friends. He properly introduced you to his daughter Jasmine, who when meeting you for the first time told you, "You're pretty!" It melted your heart. Yours and Daryl's friendship grew drastically from then on. You respected him a lot, as he did you. The two of you were able to teach each other things about nature and hunting that the other had no clue about; you taught Daryl which herbs were best for different things, and he taught you how to shoot with a crossbow. Of course, your bow and arrow and your dagger were just enough for you already, but it pleased you to know that Daryl actually wanted to teach you.

Soon enough it was evident that you and Daryl were growing a deeper connection than the two of you originally anticipated. But somehow you weren't scared of it. You felt content around him, and it was clear that he felt that way about you, too.

"Jasmine!" Daryl called out, frantically searching the woods for his pesky little daughter. The sun was setting over the tree line ahead of him, clouds painted orange and pink. It was going to be dark soon, and he had no idea where his daughter had run off to.

Daryl found his feet moving on their own, eyes shifting around his surroundings while he attempted to track the footsteps of his daughter. "Jas! C'mon let's go!" Suddenly the sound of a twig snapping filled the air. His heartbeat quickened, and his paternal instincts kicked in. He raced toward the sound, crossbow at the ready.

He was just about ready to shoot whatever was hiding behind the tree but when he saw you walking with Jasmine he stopped in his tracks, lowering his weapon. You and Jasmine both glanced up at him simultaneously, and the little girl ran up to her father and hugged him. A sigh of relief overcame him as he bent down to hug her back. You beamed down at the two of them, admiring how touching the sight was.

"Where were ya?" Daryl stood back up, moving his focus between both you and his daughter. You could tell he was trying his hardest to stay calm, but the fact that his daughter was running off in the woods without him made him feel uneasy and on edge.

"Don't worry, I found her by a stream back there. She told me she wanted to learn how to catch frogs," you reassured him. He grinned and looked down at the girl, who was carrying a red bucket full of croaking amphibians.

"Look how many I caught, daddy!" She lifted the bucket up to Daryl and he peered into it. "Well someone's a professional frog catcher now, ey?" He teased.

The three of you reached the gates and Jasmine hurriedly ran down the street to the other kids outside. You smiled and turned to Daryl, who was already staring at you. You blushed and looked down at your feet.

"Sorry, I should have told you she was with me. She just seemed so excited and I couldn't say no, so–"

"Nah. Don't need to apologize," he interrupted, reaching his hand up to brush a strand of hair out of his face. "I, uh, thank you, fer watchin' her."

A gentle breeze drifted through your hair and you brushed stray strands out of your face, all the while Daryl shifted his weight and gathered the pith to express his feelings at that moment. He needed to get it off his chest.

Your doe eyes only impelled him further.

"Uh..." his anxious eyes finally met your passionate ones. "I think Jas might enjoy having ya over fer dinner t'night."

This time you tittered, nodding your head enthusiastically. "If this is your way of wanting more of my company, just say it, Daryl." Your face muscles seriously ached from smiling so hard. "I... I like you. And I would love to come over, honestly, any time."

Daryl's face flushed a shade of pink you'd never seen on him before. It made you giddy. "I like ya too."

That moment felt so cliche – it felt like you and Daryl were part of a silly teenage romcom film. But you two earned that cliche moment. You were surprisingly capable of harvesting a healthy connection with someone who really meant a lot to you.

The magnetic pull between the two of you grew stronger and stronger, reeling your body closer to his. Your hand instinctively brushed against his, making Daryl's insides mushy.

A smirk ran across yours lips and you grabbed Daryl's hand firmly. "C'mon, let's go make some food for tonight."

That evening you cooked venison stew for Daryl and his daughter, by gratitude of the huge buck Daryl scored earlier that morning. Secretly you loved to cook, but you'd only ever cook for someone who was special to you; back in the day you'd always cook for your father after he'd go out hunting and bring back game that gave you an opportunity to create a mouth-watering recipe. Today, that special someone was Daryl. You truly believed he deserved a decent meal from you after everything he'd done for you. He won your trust and respect – even more so your love.

"Thank you."

Daryl was sprawled out on the couch, staring up at you as you had finished cleaning up the dishes. He had already tucked Jasmine into bed up stairs, afterward coming back down to gawk at you.

You wiped your hands on a towel and set it on the counter, turning your attention the the comfortable man on the couch. "No need to thank me. I wanted to cook for you." You joined him on the couch, drowning in the soft cushion and taking in the homey vibe of his living room.

He sat up, turning his body toward you. That expression was painted on his face again – the one that told you he was doubting himself, or that he was trying really hard to articulate his emotions. You took his hands in yours, a decision that caught Daryl by surprise. "You don't need to doubt yourself anymore. I know what you're feeling, trust me."

Your reassurance kindled the spark of courage Daryl so desperately needed. It was as if you were his god, his creator – the one to send him the message from the sky to tell him it was his time to listen to his heart. And so he did.

The archer's rough, calloused fingers traced shapes over the dry skin of your hands. Your gaze melted him like plastic by the fire, and the words your spoke to him spilled from your lips like a prayer.

"Kiss me, Daryl."

Carefully Daryl parted his lips while searching your face for any uncertainties; there were none. And so he kissed you. He kissed you like you were a porcelain doll, suppressing his strength as to not break you. He wanted this kiss to last forever, and so did you.

Daryl trusted his gut that you were the one for him, and boy was that the best decision he ever made right there and then.

[milksuu]

can I get some headcannons based on Heartsteal being becoming fathers? Like how they were during the time their s/o was pregnant. :3c

Maybe a bonus on whether the child was planned or not.

❥ prompt: v!heartsteel expecting father headcanons with reader ❥ content/warnings: suggestive themes, foul language, pregnancy and all things related, baby genders mentioned ❥ characters/pairings: Heartsteel! (aphelios, ezreal, kayn) x pregnant!reader an;; forgive me, i am too sleepy tired to write for all the boys atm. ;w; fml my hc's for sett would make me fold errr maybe later

░꒱♡‿ִ₊˚→ APHELIOS

When you break the news, Aphelios forgets he primarily uses sign language to speak. To your surprise, and to his own, he uses broken words and barely audible sounds. Almost like a child learning to talk again. You have to help him by taking his hands, and guiding him to use them instead of straining his vocal cords.

'Are...are you sure?'

At first, it's difficult to process all the emotions. Happiness. Fear. Excitement. Anxiety. Love. Overwhelmed, he presses your hands against his face, hiding his unraveling expressions. Afer a beat, he chokes up. His hands squeezes yours, deepening your touch. And within moments, you're wrapped in his arms. And he presses as much of you into himself as he can. Holding you so close to his heart, you feel it pound against your cheek. As if to say; 'is it really okay for me to be this happy?'

To any outsider looking in, Aphelios seems disconnected and unenthusiastic about the whole situation. A plus-one wasn't planned, after all. When anyone asks about you and the baby, he replies with a simple 'Fine. Thanks.' And promptly diverts the subject back to work or anything else. But on the inside, the poor man is suffering. Constantly worrying about you and the babies well-being. In reality, he's too afraid to indulge in his own happiness and share it with others. Fearing the moment he does, it'll all shatter like glass in front of him. And he won't be strong enough to mend the pieces.

It's no surprise that his new chronic obsession consist of only making sure you and the growing baby are safe. He texts every hour, on the hour. Makes frequent video calls. And installs motion sensor cameras around the house, especially in places you could easily fall. And no, he doesn't mind watching you fold laundry or wash dishes for an hour while on a face call. So long as he can see you smiling and healthy, that's all he needs to assure him when he's not physically with you.

He's also pulling all nighters until his bottom eyelids are rimmed red. Reading hundreds upon hundreds of articles, forum posts, and online material on how to be a 'Good Father'—especially one who can't speak. Jotting down everything he can in his notebook, bleeding pen after pen dry from ink. There's plenty of times you have to wake up in the middle of the night and convince him back to bed. But only after reassuring him a thousands times how great of a father he'll be.

When the baby bump begins to show, Aphelios presses his ears against your stomach. Listening to the life you carry inside you. The amniotic sounds ease his intrusive thoughts, and lulls him to sleep; he always imagines he's taking a nap right beside the baby. Plus, he loves getting the small bit of attention from you as you run your fingers through his hair. A moment of selfishness he can't help but relish all for himself.

As for sex...well, he's not always on board with the idea. As much as he craves to be inside you everyday, especially when your body looks so heavenly full, he just doesn't want to risk anything. Especially in your later months. Last thing he wants to do is induce an early labor. But he's more than willing to devote his hands and mouth to satisfy every inch of you that he can. Worshipping you with adoring kisses and soft touches from head to toe. He's happy to please you, and doesn't expect anything in return in your state. (Of course, you do anyway.)

Familial genetics is one heck of a thing. Aphelio's eyes are blown wide at an image screen that shows two babies growing side-by-side. When it's conclusive you'd be having identical twin boys, he almost collapses in front of the ultrasound technician. So not one—but two—surprise gifts waited for him at the end of the third-trimester. And if they would be anything like him, their house would be a pranking death trap to all who entered. No one would be safe, except for mom.

░꒱♡‿ִ₊˚→ EZREAL

When you show Ezreal your pregnancy result, he looks at it with complete shock. He's locked in silence, which is never a good thing for someone as talkative as him. You almost have second thoughts about revealing the news until he bounces to you and gathers you in his arms. Eyes brimming with tears of absolute joy.

"No way—No way! Are you telling me I'm going to be a dad? Babe, for real. Is that what these two lines mean? Are you kidding me? This is the happiest freakin' day of my life!"

Ezreal has always been a fan of surprises, and this big news was no exception. Everywhere he went, no matter the conversation, he'd just casually state he was becoming a father. Didn't matter the person or group setting. Family. Friends. The neighbor; his neighbor next to him. The young teen delivering packages to his door. The grandmother and her toy-poodle waiting in line at the convenience store. If anyone was around him, he was boasting about you and the now expected bundle of joy.

Ezreal tries his bestest to help you around the house. He's never been great at chores, but he's a happy little helper eager to listen and please. You tell him exactly what you need from him, and he'll do it with a smile on his face. Anything that keeps your stress levels low, he wants to be the one you rely on to ease your burden.

Ezreal can't lie and say he understands everything about pregnancy and what you're going through. It all seems to go right over his head. The only thing he seems to get is your morning sickness, because he's literally feeling it too. Seeing you nauseous gets his own sympathetic response going. So while he's trying to comfort you, holding your hair as you hover over the toilet, he's also cradling the nearby trash bucket for himself. (How romantic!)

When your stomach grows, Ezreal can spend hours and hours talking to it. He never runs out of topics. Even mentioning the most mundane parts of his everyday life. These moments are when he feels he's bonding most with his child to be. He'll pretend to tell the baby secrets that you don't even know about, and whispers out loud with a wink, "but don't tell your mom about that one, 'kay?"

Ezreal is literally terrified to have sex with you. And not because he doesn't find your body attractive. But he actually believes he'll poke the baby's eye out, or pop you like a water balloon. And if that ever happened, the guilt would forever destroy him. It takes a visit to the obgyn and for a professional to explain that it's perfectly safe to have sex during your pregnancy. He's hesitant at first, but after the first go around, his confidence and sex drive picks right where it left off. (He regrets not going at it like rabbits sooner.)

When you're at your routine ultrasound appointment, Ezreal can't stop the tears parading down his face, even before he knows it's a boy. Hiccuping and siffling, one hand squeezes yours tight, while the other points at the imaging. "H...He...looks just...like me." It's endearing for him to think that. When the monitor only shows splotchy and fuzzy spots of the babies butt. The copied images to take home are his favorite photos taken. Ever.

░꒱♡‿ִ₊˚→ KAYN

When you break the news to Kayn, he doesn't hesitate to pull you in by the waist, pressing your hips together. Guiding a hand to the back of your neck, in a manner that was gentle and not comparable to how he fucked you senselessly. And with all the care in the world, he takes your lips.

"Damn. You're fertile as Hell. It only took us one time after you stopped your birth-control. Honestly, it's really fuckin' hot. How about we—you know—to celebrate?"

Counter to popular belief, Kayn brought up the idea to start a family first. When you asked him the reason, he first joked around a bit, telling you how hot and sexy it would be to 'impregnate you with his seed'. But, he put aside his usual impulsivities, and explained his desire to move on to the next part of his life. He was done with the partying and drugs. Over the one night stands and dating random no-nobodies. And just wanted to have a more meaningful, family oriented life—with you.

To show he's committed to the whole idea, he takes days off from his idol schedule to go to every prenatal check-up appointment. He plucks and stuffs every pamphlet into his pockets he can find around the waiting lobby. He asks tons of questions to the obgyn, and stuffs more educational brochures in his pockets. You have to scold him when he tries to snag a small uterus replica from the exam room. Kayn defends himself, wanting it for "educational" purposes. (Rhaast just wanted it as a neat souvenir.) He settles when a medical assistant gives him a sperm shaped pen.

Kayn is another one that isn't great with house chores. (But he'll gloat and say he's mastered cleaning the dishes, at the very least.) He's generally better at being sent for errands outside the home. If you need an extra ingredient to make dinner, he'll hop on his motorcycle and get it in record time. And if you're not feeling up for cooking, he'll order pick-up from your favorite place in town. You need to send a package at the post office? He'll wait hours in line on the busiest day of the week. Whatever he can do for you, he makes sure it gets done. So you never have to worry about something once you pass the responsibility to him. Showing you he's a more than capable partner and future father.

When your baby bump starts to show, Kayn's favorite thing to do is touch it. Applying the softest pressure as he runs his hands and finger across your rounding stomach. He's always enamored whenever he feels the baby move; another reminder of how amazing you are. And he never forgets to vocalize it. "You're so goddamn beautiful, you know that?" he'll say like you've cursed him. Cradling your face and taking your mouth.

You never have to tell this man more than once to touch or have sex with you. It's part of his daily routine a this point. And definitely one of his favorite ways to bond with you. But now that you're pregnant, it's as if the sex between you two has shifted into another plane of pleasurable existence. Never getting enough of it, even moments after finishing. But on the days you're not up for it, he respects it. And doesn't mind defaulting to cuddling, before dozing off to sleep with you in his arms. (But he eagerly counts down the time for when you're in the mood again.)

Kayn tries not to show to much of his softer-side; he rather be the one to have his shoulder wet than yours. But at your ultrasound appointment, once it's confirmed you're having a girl, his whole punk 'fuck only the hot police' persona collapses. You notice him clear his throat, and quickly swipe a knuckle at the corner of his eyes. He masks this dent of composure by huffing a laugh, "Guess I'm, uh...going to be kicking the crap out of a lot of asses later."

[wongyuuu]

hi,

i just wanted to say that i love your works, you’re absolutely AMAZING !!

and that kind of led me to sending in my request (since i saw they’re open), because i really need to read another piece of art from you <3

is it possible for me to ask you to write something like an angst-to-fluff pregnancy imagine/drabble with wonwoo? i know that not everyone is comfortable with this topic, so feel totally free to ignore it or change it the way you want, i’ll be super ultra thankful anyways :))

once again i love your works, keep going !!

- anon

i really got carried away with this but i'm also scared... a little really hope you like it!!

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader genre:  angst, fluff word count: 1.9k warnings: none

a/n: not proofread

requests are open

With a heavy heart, you sat down in the waiting room, your eyes filled with tears. Seeing your current estate, the attendant said that it was okay if you were late, she could just make a quick shift on the schedule. You thanked her, relieved. 

You took out your phone from your purse. No missed calls or unread texts from your fiance.

You told him that you could go by yourself to the ultrasound. But Wonwoo said that he wanted to be there, that since he missed the last one he had to be there for the next one.

So you believed him and waited. 

You tried calling him fifteen minutes before you were supposed to leave the apartment. Then again when you were already late. Tried texting him many times in between but you never got an answer. So you called an Uber and left by yourself. Though you wanted to call him again, you forced yourself not to. 

Since you got pregnant you felt as if Wonwoo was slowly pushing you away and you didn't know what to do. He was working longer hours, leaving the apartment when the sun had just risen to the sky, and coming home every night almost at midnight. He’d just shower and go to bed.

On many different occasions, you asked him if everything was okay, and why he was working over hours so much. His answers were always evasive and never told you much of anything. You knew Wonwoo wasn’t cheating but you couldn’t help but think that maybe this wasn’t the lift that he wanted. That once a child was involved in the equation he wasn’t all that sure if getting married and officially starting a life together was something that he still wanted. 

You didn’t want to doubt him at all but his actions didn’t leave you with many other options but that one. 

The entrance door suddenly opened and Wonwoo rushed in. His hair was a mess on top of his head, his glasses slightly crocked over his face, and a thin layer of sweat covered his forehead. He looked around for a second before his eyes finally landed on you. He sat down by your side, his eyes wide.

“I’m sorry” he kissed your head, taking your hands in his “I’m so sorry”

You just shook your head, eyes forward, refusing to look at him. Not out of anger, but because if you did you would start crying again and had just managed to pull yourself together. You didn’t want to see the doctor while crying. Your tears were only yours, to be shed in the privacy of your home — preferably in the shower when no one could see you. 

“Please, look at me” he begged and you almost caved “I didn’t forget but I was stuck in the office, that’s why I didn't take any of your calls”

A shake of your head was still all he got. Wonwoo didn’t know what else he could say. He knew that he was in the wrong in the situation but he didn’t know what he was supposed to say or do. And he didn’t have a chance to think of anything because a nurse came out to take you to get the ultrasound.

For a second Wonwoo was scared that you wouldn’t let him inside the room with you but you never let go of his hand while walking in. 

Wonwo had missed your first ultrasound, the one both of you had considered the most special one. It was the first time you’d get to hear your baby’s heartbeat. Wonwoo hated himself for not being there, hated how all he had was the video you took on your phone to show to him. He knew that you were disappointed in him. 

“You didn’t come alone this time,” the doctor said once she walked in, a smile on her face.

Wonwoo squeezed your hand, kissing your knuckles. 

He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous but he couldn’t keep his heart at a normal rate. Maybe it was because he was going to hear his child’s heart for the first time or maybe it was because you refused to look his way, your hand completely limp on his hold. Or maybe it was just a mixture of both.

“Do you want to know what you’re having?”

“Yes,” both of you said at the same time

“I don’t really like the whole gender reveal thing”

The doctor laughed, pressing the transducer to your stomach.

“If I get to say so myself, I don’t like it either” she moved her hand a little to the left, smiling again looking at the screen, lightly moving it towards you “Everything looks fine, as it should. Now, for the moment you’ve been waiting for”

Wonwoo followed you out of the clinic, his hand on your lower back guiding you to where he had parked the car.

You didn't speak to him once or even looked his away. You seemed to be lost in your mind since the moment you saw him, only ever talking with the doctor.  

He opened the passenger door for you and hurried to the other side. 

“What do you want for dinner?” he tried saying 

“I… If…” your voice shook as you tried to get the words out “If this is not something you want, marriage, being a father, I need you to tell me now. Don’t wait until the baby is born to make up your mind. Don’t be that cruel to me”

The silence in the car was deafening. Wonwoo felt as if the world had stopped moving.

The truth was having a child wasn’t a topic you talked about frequently. Yes, it was mentioned a couple of times over the years but nothing more. However, when you told him that you were pregnant, he couldn’t be happier. He felt as if his entire life was falling into place just at the right time. His job was going great, he finally got the promotion he had worked himself crazy for, you had said yes to his proposal, and you had a baby on the way. 

It was the life he imagined for himself, the life he so desperately wanted. And he wanted it all with you. So the fact that he was hurting you, even if he didn’t mean to, even if all that he was doing was so that you could have the life you also dreamed of, drove him insane. 

“I want to show you something”

You did your best to not let your tears fall. Wonwoo had been silent since you asked him to be honest with you. And it was the first time, in a very long time, that you had no idea of what his silence meant. He gripped the wheel tight enough that his knuckles turned white, his lips pressed into a thin line. It was hard to resist the urge to pull his hand into yours, to do something that would change the atmosphere between the two of you.

Yet, you forced your hands to remain on your lap while you tried to discover where he was taking you. The streets felt vaguely familiar, you knew that you had been there once before. All of it made sense when Wonwoo parked the car in front of a house you had visited a few moments before you found out that you were pregnant. 

After Wonwoo proposed, the two of you decided that instead of having a huge wedding party you wanted to get a place of your own. It felt much more important to have a home than a party. And you could still celebrate with your friends and family, just maybe in a more modest way.

In one of your conversations with Wonwoo, you told him that you wanted to live in an actual house, not in an apartment. It’s just a dream though, you told him. Still, when looking for a place, Wonwoo only took you to see houses, while you only chose apartments. 

But, of course, you had a favorite and Wonwoo knew it, even if you never said it out loud. He saw the way your eyes shone when he took you there, when you looked at the rooms, the kitchen, the small garden in the back, the old swing set. 

You watched in complete wonder as Wonwoo took a key out of his pocket and opened the gate. 

“How do you have a key to this place?”

Unlike the last time you had been there, the place seemed entirely different. It was clear the house was being renovated.

“I wanted to make a surprise but I think my idea wasn’t as great as I thought it was”

He pushed the door open. It was like you remembered but also different. The walls were no longer an ugly shade of gray but a shade of pearl. The carpet had been removed and it was finally possible to see the floor.

“Wonwoo…”

Wonwoo wrapped his arms around you from behind, his hand on your belly that was starting to grow round.

“The promotion I got at work came with a bonus, much bigger than we thought. It was more than enough to get the house we wanted”

His lips dropped feather like kisses on your shoulder, the curve of your neck, behind your ear, and on top of your head.

"I've been coming here every day before and after work, to make sure that it will be ready in a few more days. But after today…" 

You turned around in his arms, needing to look at him. 

"Wonwoo, I wanted the house, not you"

He shook his head, a smile on his lips as he pushed the hair that fell onto your forehead. 

"I wanted whatever you wanted. And I agree with you, raising a child in a house with enough space is much better than inside the apartment" he kissed you once, then twice. "There's something I want to show you"

Wonwoo took you by the hand, pulling you through the house. You only had a chance to peek at the rooms. All of them had been slightly modified.

That moment felt like a dream, the kind of thing someone doesn't actually get to live. You felt as if at any moment you'd wake up and you'd be back in bed. 

All the doors in the hall were open except for one on the right.

Taking a deep breath, Wonwoo pushed the door open and took a step aside to let in first.

Tears burned the back of your eyes, a knot pressing your throat. It was a fully furnished nursery. It was everything you ever dreamed of and then some more. The white walls, the little clouds on the ceiling. Even the furniture itself was one you had chosen. 

"How…? When…?"

"I might have snooped on your phone," he said with a laugh "We finished it just this morning. Mingyu helped with putting the furniture together and Seungkwan with the details"

At that point, tears already ran freely down your face. While Wonwoo was busy doing everything he could to get you your dream, you were worried that he might have fallen out of love with you, that he longer wanted to be with you. 

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't…"

"It's fine, I shouldn't have kept it a secret" he held your face in his hands, he had tears in his eyes too but also a beautiful smile "But this is where we start the rest of our lives. You, me, and our son"

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