#i am too soft so i can be convinced to write pretty much anything to make someone smile it is an actual weakness

[milflewis]

my favorite question to ask: would you ever write a notp or a ship you hate? (even as a side pairing?)

i don't think i'd write a pairing that i didn't vibe with bc i didn't like either of the ppl in it for whatever reason but i would (and have!) written fic for pairings that aren't my thing at all bc mutuals were into them and i am a sucker (see: mark and george/lewis, kyle and charles/mick, fran and seb/dan, etc). i prob would be more likely to write a ship i hate as a side pairing bc it fits the story or dynamic i'm going for but i wouldn't write a whole thing for them unless it was for someone icl. brocedes is actually maybe the only pairing i don't really care for that i have written for without it being for a mutual bc like. the narrative of it worked so

would you ever write...?

[freedomfireflies]

If requests are still ‚allowed‘: maybe you could write a one shot about Y/Ns first time with her boyfriend H! - Ina

Technically, my requests are closed but this is so cute and I've never gotten to write anything like it so I couldn't resist 😭💞

“Breathe, baby. Breathe. Good, that’s it. Just like that.”

The weight atop your chest grows lighter as Harry’s palm cups your cheek, keeping your eyes on his. He breathes with you. In. Out. In. Out. Hold.

Your nails begin to slip down his back, anxious to hold onto him. To hold onto this moment. You don’t want to stop. You want this with him but your mind is racing. Unable to focus on anything else but the fear of what you’re about to do.

“Good,” he whispers, thumb stroking along your jaw to soothe you. He looks proud. Expression soft and understanding. “Good. Are you still with me? Do I have you?”

You take a moment to find your voice, hidden beneath your nerves. “Yes.”

He nods once. “Okay. Do you wanna stop?”

“No.” Your fingers move to his hair, tugging softly on the roots as if to nail in your point. “No, I just…I can’t…it won’t stop.”

“What won’t stop?”

You swallow, eyes falling shut so you can hide yourself from his reaction. “…the voices.”

You hope he doesn’t make you elaborate. Hope he doesn’t think you’ve lost your mind, but you feel his hold on you grow a bit more firm. Pointed. Subtly requesting you look at him once more.

Hesitantly, you do, feeling weak and small under his gaze. Under his large frame that’s keeping you trapped to the bed. 

“The voices,” he repeats, and your cheeks flush. “And what are the voices telling you?”

You shift a bit, knees knocking into his hips as you take a beat to calm your racing heart. “Just…just that it won’t…be good? I guess? That you won’t…like it. That you won’t like how I do it, or…or how I am, or how I look.”

His brows furrow, forehead creasing in a way that makes your stomach drop. He’s so pretty. It hurts to see him frown.

“And?” he urges.

“And…that we won’t be us,” you admit softly, now staring a hole through the golden cross around his neck. “That you’ll…that you’ll hate it so much, you won’t be able to look at me. Or talk to me again. And I’ll be too embarrassed to try and fix it. And we’ll have done this, and it’ll ruin everything, and I’ll lose you—”

“No,” he suddenly breathes, the sound of his voice almost wounded. “Never. You’ll never lose me. Ever—”

“You don’t know that,” you argue, scratching at his scalp as you look back up. “You don’t. I’m not your first. I’m not…I’m not gonna know what to do the way you’re used to. I’m not gonna be able to do the kind of tricks or positions you might like, I won’t…I’m not gonna be any good—”

“Baby,” he just about sighs as if you’re physically hurting him. He surges forward, forehead pressing to yours as he forces you both to still. To quiet. “I…look, I know why you’re anxious, okay? Believe me, I know. I was anxious, too, my first time. It’s impossible not to be.”

You feel calmed ever-so-slightly. It’s hard for you to imagine Harry ever feeling any type of fear or anxiety.

He’s always been so…confident. Unwavering in who he is. After all, what does he have to be nervous about? He’s smart, he’s handsome, he’s rich. He’s got a body that was hand-sculpted by gods (and expensive trainers), he’s quick with a joke, and he makes everybody around him fall in love.

You already had a hard time convincing yourself he actually wanted to be with you, and it wasn’t some sort of odd joke. 

And now…now you’ve got a whole new crop of unsettling doubts attempting to remind you that he can do so much better.

“But please…baby, please,” he continues, pulling your focus back. “Please believe me when I tell you that there is nothing—and I mean nothing—that could ever ruin us. That could ruin the way I feel about you. Okay, it eats me from the inside out. I think about you all goddamn day. I think about holding you, and talking to you, and just…being near you. You…are everything to me.”

Your heart begins to pound against your ribcage at the earnest vulnerability in his confession.

“I am…consumed by you,” he murmurs, his naked chest flush with yours as he nestles himself in your embrace. “You have no idea what you do to me. No idea how badly I need to be with you. How much I love you. And this…this is just one, small way of proving that. One way to show you how much I worship you, and your body, and what it does for me.”

He dips down, lips trailing down your neck and toward your tits as he presses his adoration for you into each section of your skin.

“God, what you do to me,” he whispers, almost as if to himself. “You don’t even…baby, there is no universe where I’m not enamored by you. No universe where I’m not obsessed with the way you feel, the way you look, the way you taste. I think about touching you more times in a day than I think about breathing. Think about feeling you around me every goddamn second.”

As he continues to maneuver down your body, his hips subtly grind with yours, cock delicately grazing your naked cunt as you gasp and squirm beneath him.

“I just want to take care of you,” he says, finally looking up at you through his thick lashes, lips hovering just over your nipple. “Do anything to make you feel good. Make you see how badly I need you. To hear you moan my name or cry out for me. Just wanna show you…that I’m the only voice you need to listen to.”

Your chest is beginning to rise and fall with apprehensive, needy breaths. The lust in the pit of your stomach has grown, and the only comments in your head…are his. 

Which you imagine was his goal. To talk to you and praise you and remind you…until he's the only one you hear.

“We don’t have to,” he reminds you again, hand coming down to your hip to give it a reassuring squeeze. “Promise. If you’re not ready, we don’t—”

“I am,” you say quickly, whimpering a bit even as you do. “I am, really. I want to do this, I want you. I just…I want to be good for you.”

“You are,” he groans, straightening back up to press his mouth to yours and prove it to you. “So fucking good for me, baby. Always so good. Give me everything I’ve ever wanted. Don’t you, yeah?”

You nod, fingers once again pulling at his shoulder blades as you subtly beg him to keep going. Grinding. Pressing his body to yours until you can’t think about anything else.

“I know,” he mumbles, pressing your thigh to the bed to spread you as he readjusts and lines himself up. “M’gonna start slow, okay? Don’t want you to do anything but breathe. Be my good girl and let me take care of you, all right? I’ve got you.”

You make a noise in the back of your throat as you watch him bring his cock closer, dragging it through your arousal before gently pushing inside.

He’d spent a good half hour before this making sure to work you up. Eating you out, fingering you, whispering his praises. It wasn’t the first time he’d made you come, but it was certainly the most determined he’d ever been.

And you’re rather thankful for that now because you have this strange need to chase after that kind of release again. A longing to be filled in a way you couldn’t be with just his tongue.

Your lip is between your teeth as you begin to stretch around him. Your eyes have fallen closed and your thoughts have all but subsided. 

And then…there’s him.

Kissing down your cheek and neck once more as he murmurs, “So good, baby. Doing so good. Talk to me. Need to hear you. Need to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you gasp, nails painting patterns down his spine. “Shit…m’okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good.” He buries his face in your shoulder as he sheaths himself completely. 

The room goes still. Quiet. He waits patiently for your body to adjust. For the pleasure to kick in. He fights his own instinct. Fights the urge to ruin you as he kisses the patch of skin his lips can reach.

Soon, you’re nodding quickly as you begin to gently roll your hips up. “Okay,” you sigh. “Okay, go.”

He leans back to see you, kissing the side of your temple. “Yeah?”

Another nod. “Yeah. Please, Har. Please…”

He’s heard you beg before but not like this. Not in a way that makes his stomach flip and his brain grow fuzzy. 

And suddenly, all he sees is this desire to care for you. To completely own you. To make your pleasure his own personal property as you surrender to him.

So, he does. He thrusts into you in slow, hard patterns. Making sure you feel everything. Making sure you know nothing else but him. Until you’re cock-drunk and willing.

And after devoting each second of his time to making this everything you’ve ever needed, you come together. 

Sweaty limbs tangling as he captures you in his arms and rides you through. As he kisses those voices away and makes a home in your subconscious. Until your body and his have become one.

And you know, without a doubt…

This is only the start.

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[yurinaa-world]

Characters: Housewarden x Gender Neutral Reader

Synopsis: Housewarden With flirty S/o

Warnings: fluff, spelling mistakes, might be ooc

Notes: I am writing for twisted wonderland now!

𝑅𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒 𝑅𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈

Who knows how you both got together and how you started dating each other?

He cannot handle your comments at all. like how you say all that and not be embarrassed while he, on the other hand, is all red in the face while lecturing you not to use such words in the land of the queen of hearts.

In return, you tell him, "I don’t see any type of rule that stops me from complimenting the Queen's beauty. You grin ear to ear while he just goes silent. The boy was left speechless.

As you decide to push your luck more than you already have and grab his hands and kiss his knuckles, Ah, what have you done after awhile? He calmed down, but don’t think you're not going to get a lecture after all; he must set an example so you don't do it in public.

But did you listen? Of course you don't want to make him uncomfortable, but he never told you not to flirt in private, and when in private, you do so much more to tease him, something like giving him kisses all over his face or blowing in his ear; such simple things get him so riled up!

𝐿𝑒𝑜𝓃𝒶 𝒦𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓇

He’ll definitely go along with what you're putting out; if you think you can fluster him, you can dream, but it’ll never happen even if you try your hardest.

But who knows if you don’t try? You did many things to see him get all red, but nothing... Nothing; he just returns the energy you gave him, tells you he’s tired, wraps his arms around you, and falls asleep—not the things you wanted out of him.

Well, if words won’t get you the reaction you wanted, then your actions might, so you start to kiss his hand or intertwine your hands and give him a direct kiss on the lips.

He just smirks and somehow makes you go red instead! Leona just laughs at your gaping mouth and your rose-coloured cheeks, but you’ll keep on trying! Since nothing is impossible!

𝒜𝓏𝓊𝓁 𝒜𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓃𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑜

Well, if he can deal with Floyd, then he can definitely deal with your flirtiness.

But once you saw his octopus form for the first time, you knew you had something. Well,  you of course asked him if you could see him in his octopus, and after a lot of convincing, he did!

Well, he was pretty increure about showing this side of himself; he looked so red, and you told him that there was no need for him to be embarrassed; he looked so cute. He told you not to stare, but how could you not?

Azul doesn’t believe you at all, but you really mean what you said; he looks cute! You ask him if you could possibly touch his tentacles; they look so soft and squishy.

𝒦𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓂 𝒜𝓁-𝒜𝓈𝒾𝓂

He’d be pretty chill with your flirting.

not really flirty back, but he doesn’t need to since he’s always making you break with his bright smile and how he calls you beautiful; he does gushes to Kalim about you and how you're so pretty and how lucky he was to get to date you, and Jamil just listens (Jamil's totally Kamil’s wingman).

When you kiss him, he’s on cloud nine; you can see a little blush on his cheeks. He wanted to repay the favor but wanted to make it special, so he took you a ride on his magic carpet and gave you a kiss, which surprised you but you liked it.

𝒱𝒾𝓁 𝒮𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑒𝓃𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓉

Of course he loves your compliments; now he doesn’t blame you for being so madly in love with him; he is the fairest.

He’ll take anything you throw at him, no matter how flirtatious, since he’s a celebrity, but he likes to see you get flustered instead since you look so cute when you get a taste of your medicine.

He’ll grab your chin with his thumb pressing on your lips (if that makes sense). How needy you are to want his attention so badly. He is so generous to do so, but don’t get too greedy.

𝐼𝒹𝒾𝒶 𝒮𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒹

You like SSR in a gacha game where odds are like 5% chance of winning, but he was able to get lucky in just one ten pull.

He can’t handle you; even the most lighthearted comment gets him on his knees and has his fiery blue hair turn pink, but when you tease about it, he’ll mutter about how you're wrong, and he would never be flustered by a normie!

He’ll forgive you if you say sorry, but do you stop? No, what's the point in that? So you keep on going, like distracting him from his games with kisses on his neck. He’s muttering with a bit of blush on his pale skin that you're distracting him, but you want to spend time with him, plus he can play his games anytime.

𝑀𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓊𝓈 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒾𝒶

I see Malleus understanding your flirting and going along but also getting confused by some of the things you say since he’s been sheltered for a lot of his life (like the man doesn’t know how to use a phone).

How bold of you, child of man, to say things like this to him without any fear! Call yourself lucky since Sebek isn’t there to scream his head off about indecent behavior in THE Malleus Draconia.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 017 }

- when you fall asleep on them -

featuring: megumi, yuji, yuta

[ megumi 💤 ]

he will be the last to admit that he loves the way you fall asleep on him so casually; seeming to trust him and finding comfort in his presence as your head gently lands on his shoulder.

megumi convinces himself to head over to your place and study because he knew just how lazy you got each time you tried to study by yourself. there was an exam that was quickly approaching, and when he realized that you hadn't even begun to study when he last spoke to you-

he could feel the tension headache forming within his temple.

during the weekend, he stops by your house and invites himself inside, (your parents actually adored him and how he was such a positive influence for you), so it was actually pretty easy to catch you slacking off in such a casual manner.

he enters your room, seeing your eyes fixated on your computer screen as some cheesy drama was playing. your eyes were wide when you look up at him, with parted lips holding a piece of pocky in its corner, and megumi had to fight back his annoyance.

"oi, you need to study for this exam. come on, quit messing around." he slams your laptop shut and takes a hold of your pocky, chewing down on the treat with an unnecessary amount of force.

"aw, 'gumi, i-i was going to study! a-after one more episode."

he rolls his eyes at you, knowing you a little too well when he says, "sure, and then one episode turns into another, then another- and next thing you know, you're bingeing the entire season with your plans of studying becoming nonexistent."

your pout was all that he needed to know that he truly knew your intentions, reading through your lies like an open book.

after a bit of bickering, he convinces you to study with him, with the both of you settled on the hardwood flooring of your room, your backs pressed against your bed. megumi allows you to review his notes, since he remade them specifically for you, highlighting all of the important concepts in your favorite color while writing detailed, bulleted notes at the side.

he did a lot for you, for reasons he refuses to specify because he didn't think his heart could take it if and when he admitted to turning so soft for you and you alone.

megumi was caught up in his thoughts that he didn't realize when you had become slumped over against him, your warmth suddenly radiating on his shoulder as he glances over at you. the syllables that make up your name were close to escaping from his lips, yet when he catches the familiar sounds of your soft breathing was when he allows himself to smile down at you.

"you dork..."

he brushes back your hair, smirking when he sees the tiniest bit of drool settled near the corner of your mouth. letting out a feign, exasperated sigh, he closes his notebook and textbooks, choosing instead to humor you as he picked you up and carried you in his arms. with a gentleness he reserves only for you, megumi places you on the bed before laying next to you.

brushing the back of his hand against your soft cheek, he sighs while whispering to himself.

"what am i gonna do with you?"

perhaps when you wake up, he'll promise to take you out on that date so long as you do well on this upcoming exam.

[ yuji 💤 ]

a literal puppy who will do anything to spend as much time with you that he possibly can. he was your best friend, and you often spent your weekends together, having slumber parties while pulling all-nighters playing your favorite video games.

"whoa! the zombies are insane on this level!"

surrounding the floor of his bedroom were empty snacks and half-eaten bags of chips along with bottles of your favorite sodas as the only light that illuminated the room came from the television screen. the volume was turned down to a minimum to avoid the risk of waking anyone up at this ungodly hour.

while yuji was enjoying his game, you were comfortably settled on his bed, watching his joy with amusement and love in your eyes. you loved this side of your boyfriend a lot; just seeing him enjoying his life as a young teenager should.

yuji was laser-focused on his game, being so caught up with beating the level that he doesn't catch your soft yawn. it became a struggle for you to keep your eyes open, seeming difficult to hang on to your consciousness.

maybe if i just...rest my eyes a little bit...

succumbing to your drowsiness, your body slumps against yuji's bed, your breathing becoming softer and more even as you fell into a peaceful slumber.

yuji continues to play his game for the next hour, unaware that you had fallen asleep. only when he clears the level of his game did he let out excited cries of your name.

"babe! did you see that?! i finally beat the level-"

he trails off and immediately covers his mouth with both of his hands. realizing that you were asleep, yuji makes a great effort not to disturb you. he picks up the candy wrappers that surround your sleeping form, along with all the trash that was littered on his floor. he tosses everything in the trash before tiptoeing his way closer to you.

for the first time ever, yuji actually makes an effort to quietly get into bed with you. his movements were slow, not even daring to breathe when he manages to hold you in his arms before pulling the blankets over both of your forms. a look of complete and utter adoration was seen in his gaze as he allows you to bury your face within his chest.

with a sigh of your name, yuji closes his eyes, knowing that he will be filled with dreams of you the moment he joins you within this peaceful slumber.

[ yuta 💤 ]

despite being a busy man, he deeply cherishes the time he is able to spend with you. those moments where he is truly able to breathe and just unwind with you- those moments were his greatest treasures.

yuta had agreed to take the day off, wanting nothing more than to spend it with you as you decided to have a movie marathon consisting of all your favorite films.

from romance to comedy, to even horror, no movies were left untouched. feeling like this was a much needed day off for him, yuta was able to spoil the both of you with delicious takeout for each meal, reassuring you that you didn't have to lift a single finger or cook anything.

as such, you and he were both settled on your plush couch, with your head resting against his lap for the entirety of the day, your eyes engrossed in the current movie that was playing. of course, you would let out a whine each time yuta had to stand from his seat and change movies, which often prompted him to play an even longer movie that would last at least 2 to 3 hours in duration.

night had long fallen across the skies, yet yuta couldn't bring himself to retire to bed with you in his arms. it was obvious that he didn't want this day to end, because he knew that when morning came, then he would have to leave you for his latest assignment.

and truly, was it wrong of him to wish to spend every waking moment with you?

so, he continues on with the movie marathon, surrounded by empty takeout boxes with his deep blue eyes focused on the television screen. his hand mindlessly runs through your hair, earning a content sigh from you as you end up burying your face within his abdomen.

admittedly, yuta was not paying a speck of attention to the movie, so focused on your warmth and the steady sound of your breathing. only when the movie ends does he softly call out to you.

"honey, did you-"

he cuts himself off, finally looking down to see that you had already fallen asleep, with your gentle breaths felt against his shirt. yuta huffs in response, silently berating himself for being such a bad boyfriend, forcing you to stay up so late due to his own selfish desires.

"what a selfish lover i am." he trails off, pressing a kiss against your skin before picking you up in his arms. the way your body slumps against him was a clear indication of how exhausted you were. "forgive me, my love. forgive me."

even when you were so tired, you didn't speak a word to him of it. he knew that the reason why you remained silent was solely because you wanted to be with him, too.

and as yuta carries you back to your shared bedroom, he supposes that he could ask for another day off- just for the sake of your happiness.

a.n. - i am finally on spring break, with having a full week of freedom from classes, so i apologize for my sporadic updates 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[youronlydarlin]

Did "bit late" is with us in room? Because it was the fastest answer i got in my whole 10 years in fandoms!

And yeah if you can try to write Nikolai then i would be thankful! It could be anything just don't force yourself and if you can't just say or not :3 ( and I started thinking that I am "bit late" looking at how long it took me to write this 😭 )

Ohhh, one thing about the big, big Russian man is that it's dangerous to trust him. As he is an equally dangerous man. You shouldn't always agree to what he says, most often than not they'll have a hidden meaning to them. But you're so sweet :( unlike the others who walk on eggshells around him. Openly willing to converse with the scary man dawning a leather jacket, and aviators. And that's exactly what he loves about you. So soft n' pretty. He hasn't had anything supple to sink his teeth onto in a while. And the exposed skin of your legs from the shorts you're wearing are really doing him in.

So with a toothy grin, and lidded eyes he's cranking up his charm to a thousand. Convincing you to be his little helper around the workshop. You're so ecstatic, its positively adorable. The first few days were experimental to be sure. You had proper knowledge of tools, and how they work which made everything a whole lot easier. Though, Nikolai isn't surprised to know that you possess both brains, and beauty, only pleased.

He's really thought he was being slick though. Having pretty you traipsing around in one if his shirts after he "accidentally" spilled some oil onto your sweater. That plan soon backfiring as he wasn't fully prepared for the sight of you in the fabric.

By god's, you're breathtaking

Wether the fabric is too tight or too loose on your body he deems it as a perfect fit. The overall material of it is is dark, almost see through. Like satin on your skin, you could stretch at the sleeves without it tearing. Nik is too busy ogling your chest to make out your little 'thank you's' for the shirt.

It hasn't been the same from then on, you'd never know how he beats his cock to the scent you left behind on the piece of fabric, holding it up to his nose and roughly palming at his cock. Trying to mimic how tightly you would squeeze him, and he's all too suddenly closing his eyes. Jaw clenching as he sprays his cum all over the bathroom sink. Getting some of it on the mirror. He hopes he wasn't loud enough to have alerted you from behind the bathroom door. But the mere sight of you has him chubbing up in his pants. So he isn't to blame for the frequenting bathroom brakes, is he now, solnyshko?

a/n: AHHH m' sorry for making you wait, dear!! I had things that needed tending to. I hope this was to your liking!! S' my first time writing for Nikolai, I hope I did his character justice, and this was so much fun to do! He's just so 😳 N e way, I hope you enjoy this, lovely!!

Yours, truly,

–Dolly

[roseghoul26]

Hello! I would like to request Cooper Howard x gn!reader (post war, because...murderous cowboy...hnnngh), where they struggle with mental health issues like depression? I've been in a really tough spot, having no energy or motivation to do anything or really any desire to take care of myself. So I was thinking, maybe the reader's mental health is declining, they're slower and sloppier when it comes to keeping up with Cooper and he's more and more frustrated. Then one day he has enough (maybe the reader is taking too long packing up) and threatens to leave them and they're just...passive, because they really don't care anymore about what happens to them. So he realises they haven't been taking care of themselves properly for a while now and then some soft moments with him? I know this is pretty dark and you can change this however you'd like, but I'm dying for some hurt/comfort with this man 🥺 It's totally cool if it's too much for you, if you decide to not write this, please just let me know, so I don't wait for it. Thank you so much, I love your Cooper fics <3

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x gn!Reader

Synopsis: You’ve been struggling lately, putting both you and your traveling companion in danger. He was bound to confront you about it eventually. Tags: Prompt Request, Not Beta Read, Gender Neutral Reader, Depression, Mental Health, Mentions of Suicide, Disagreements, Comfort, Lazy Day, Cuddling, Beginning Relationships Author's Note: Trigger warning for topics relating to mental health, such as depression and suicide. Please do not read if you’re not in a good mental space. Take care of yourselves. Also, everyone’s experience with depression and mental health issues differs, so I am writing this story the way I experience it. Also, this was a fun challenge to write. Like how the hell would he approach a topic like this? It’s been fun to explore his character like that, and I hope I did it justice. Thank you so much for the request! <333

You used to be able to keep up with the Ghoul. 

Wherever he went, you followed, tearing through the Wastleland without hindrance. You watched his back, and he yours, a security that was unheard of in this world. It was a trusting friendship, bordering on something else, something that neither of you had crossed yet. You couldn't compete with over a hundred years of experience with a gun, but you were able to hold your own quite well. You were a decent shot and someone who never let anyone get the drop on you, senses always sharp. 

So when you started missing easy targets and found yourself surprised by opponents one too many times, you knew it was a matter of time before the Ghoul started asking questions and not believing the first lie that you said. The first time it had happened, you blamed it on your lack of sleep, and he seemed to buy it. And maybe you convinced yourself it was just a lack of sleep, ignoring the darkness that had begun to emerge in your mind. You just needed to rest, was what you told yourself. 

It happened again a few days later, completely missing a target in front of you. Your reactions had begun to slow down, too, unable to avoid the swing of a blade, cutting across your cheek. It was like your body gave up on wanting to move, an unbearable weariness to your muscles that you were unable to shake. Later, as you bandaged the wound on your cheek, the Ghoul confronted you, demanding to know why you were acting so sloppy. You’d merely shrugged, offering up the idea that you were sick. This time he seemed less convinced, yet he had let the matter go. 

You knew why you were acting the way you were. You weren’t unfamiliar with depression, far from it. It was something you’d dealt with your entire life, coming and going like waves. You’d go days, weeks, months and you’d be fine, but then a flip would switch. You’d lose your energy, your motivation, wanting nothing more than to just lay on the ground and never get back up. You’d stop taking care of your body. You’d lose your appetite. Your thoughts would turn dark, ideations and ideas flashing in your mind, things that you’d never tell another soul. 

For the months you’d been traveling with the Ghoul, you’d been able to keep a reign on your depression. Sure, you had your off days, but nothing like this. It was like the universe was punishing you for having such an excellent past months. 

But how could you explain this to your traveling partner? How could you explain that you didn’t have the energy to continue existing, to continue fighting? He needed you to be alert, to not have your thoughts occupied with something, that in perspective to the Wasteland around you, was trivial. 

So you kept your mouth shut, forcing yourself to appear alert and unaffected. You forced those thoughts to the back of your mind. You forced your body to move, no matter how much it screamed at you to just be still.

But it seemed that all that bottling your thoughts up did was make it worse. As the days dragged on, you stopped talking, only muttering small words whenever the Ghoul asked you a question. You’d normally spend the time traveling conversing, and the Ghoul did try to initiate a conversation with you, but no amount of questions and joking and jabs could get you to break. Eventually, he fell quiet too.

Sleeping became a challenge. You’d think with how exhausted your body felt, you’d be able to sleep easily, but the opposite was true. Hours would tick by, and you’d lie awake, getting up the next morning more exhausted than before you went to bed. Your face, already a bit gaunt from living such a difficult life, had grown even more so, the circles around your eyes darkening and your lips growing more chapped. 

You stopped eating, turning away the food he offered you. After you went a few days without eating more than a bite, he practically forced spoonfuls of food into your mouth, snapping at you the entire time. It was humiliating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to change. You just wanted to be done. 

You could tell that your demeanor was starting to annoy the hell out of the Ghoul, whose words had turned shorter and snappier. If you took too long, he’d grab you by the shoulder and drag you along, like an upset parent with their child. Your cheeks would burn every time, tears pickling your eyes, and you’d hang your head. 

There was a tension growing between you and the Ghoul, your friendship growing thin. His guard was up constantly, unable to trust you any longer to watch his back, which hurt you more than any knife or gun. Soft glances disappeared, his gaze scrutinizing when he looked at you. Light touches from him reserved for when you were at rest were no more, as you chose to keep to yourself every night. Instead of walking side-by-side, you’d linger a few feet behind him. You pretended like it was easier this way, to make him push you away, but it was tearing you apart. 

But eventually, that tension snapped. Too many close calls, too many sluggish movements, too many half-hearted excuses finally made him break. You’d just gotten up for the day, another sleepless night behind you, and you were packing up your few belongings. You must’ve been taking too long, because you heard him sigh audibly, standing in the open doorway of the room you’d sheltered in for the night. “What’s your fuckin’ issue?” He growled, arms crossed tight over his chest.

You looked up, feigning confusion. “I dunno what-”

“Bullshit,” he cut you off. He began to walk towards you, his steps methodical, threatening. “You’ve been actin’ like this for weeks, and you’ve only offered me half-assed excuses.” He was seething, and understandably so. He crouched down in front of you, rendering you unable to escape. “So, you,” he stuck a finger in your chest, barely avoiding hitting you, “are gonna tell me why. And don’t even think ‘bout lyin’, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest at the confrontation. Words flooded your mind, a full explanation on the tip of your tongue, yet you just couldn’t bring yourself to utter it. Your mouth opened and closed, struggling, until you eventually just gave up. Sighing, you just shook your head, which pissed him off even more. 

A disbelieving laugh left him, and he ran a gloved hand over his face. “No? You’re kiddin’ me, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Ya know, I’ve tried to be lenient. I bought into your fuckin’ lies that you were ‘just tired’, ‘just sick’. I tried to give ya space, to give ya time to get out of this. But you’re gonna get us both killed if ya don’t fix yourself. I can’t be distracted out there, constantly worried ‘bout you and keepin’ you alive, ‘cause it seems like that’s the last thing on your mind.”

He took a breath, steadying his rising voice. “So I’m gonna give ya one more chance to explain yourself, or else I’m leavin’ without ya.”

“Then leave.” Your response came almost immediately, your voice lacking any inflection. Even though in the back of your mind you were screaming at him not to leave, you kept an air of indifference about you, unable to make yourself care. It would be easier if he just left, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t be putting anyone else in danger, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt you felt of him worrying about you so much. And it would be so much easier to just disappear if there was no one looking for you.

He wasn’t expecting that as a response if the look on his face told you anything. His brow muscles were raised, leaning back from you in shock. But the way he was watching you, it was like he was observing you in a different light, dots beginning to connect in his mind. “You’ll die out there without me.” 

You merely shrugged your shoulders, glancing down to continue packing your belongings, no longer able to look him in the eye. He didn’t respond, simply standing up with a sigh. You didn’t look up, not even as you heard him walk away, backing towards the entrance of the room. You didn’t look up, even as you heard the surprisingly gentle click of the door as it shut. You didn’t look up, even as the tears that you’d been holding for the past weeks finally fell.

You were alone.

You thought it would make you feel better like there would be a weight lifted off your shoulders. But everything just felt heavier, the thoughts in your mind becoming a tempest, making you physically weak. Expletives tumbled from your lips as you sagged down onto your arms, head hung. Of course, he’d fucking leave, you idiot. No one wants to deal with your moping.

A part of you wanted to chase after him, to beg him to stay, but you already felt pathetic enough. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, not at all. You were weighing him down, putting his life in danger; he said so himself. He could only deal with you for so long. You should be grateful that he didn’t leave sooner.

The sound of rustling fabric made you jump, finally looking up. The Ghoul had taken off his jacket, laying it across the back of the couch he had slept on, never having left the room at all. Stunned, you watched him sit, taking his hat off in the process and setting it on the floor. He finally caught your eye then, a soft look on his face, a look you hadn’t seen in a long while. 

“I thought you left,” you whispered, sitting back upright. Embarrassment warmed your cheeks, and you tried to wipe the tears that had fallen on them. 

“I ain’t leavin’ ya, sweetheart.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you want me to go?” You’d never shaken your head faster in your life. “Then I’m stayin’.”

“But why?”

He sighed. “‘Cause I care ‘bout you. I… Is that too hard to believe?”

It is. Unable to find words, you just shrugged again. 

Something akin to regret or remorse flashed across his face, and muttering something under his breath he reclined against the couch. He was upset, but even now you could tell it was not because of you, at least not fully. “C’mere,” he murmured, patting the couch beside him. “You look like you’re gonna fuckin’ bolt at any second.”

Taking a steadying breath, you complied, albeit with some difficulty, your legs barely wanting to function. His gaze didn’t leave you once, as much as you wished it would, making you want to collapse in on yourself. The walk to the couch felt like it was miles long, but you eventually made your way over to it and him. 

He rolled his eyes when you just stood there in front of him, unsure of what to do with yourself. “Sit down, I ain’t gonna fuckin’ bite.” In another situation, you knew he’d add some comment like unless ya want me to, but he bit his tongue. The couch groaned as you sat next to the Ghoul, keeping a foot between your bodies. “Talk to me,” he commanded, yet his voice was gentle. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

You picked at the skin around your nails, no doubt drawing blood. “I’m… I’m not quite sure how to explain it,” you responded, and you expected your words to upset the man even more. But he nodded his head slowly, an almost understanding look on his face. “I’m just… done."

“Done with… what? Bein’ out on the road?” You shook your head. “Travellin’ with me?” You shook your head again, this time more vehemently. “Done with what?” You knew that he knew the answer to his question, but he wanted you to say it.

“I’m done with… with existing. I just can’t bring myself to care anymore. I’m just so tired of it all.” You sagged back against the couch like speaking took a toll on your body. “I’m so tired.”

He didn’t respond for a while, mulling over your words. “That… that explains a lot,” he chuckled humourlessly. “Your mind won’t just leave ya the hell alone, will it? It's like all your mind can focus on are these terrible fuckin’ things, no matter what ya do. And it just weighs on ya, like a million pounds, getting worse with every passin’ day until you just wanna… give up.”

He explained it perfectly, and you cocked your head to the side, a bit confused about how he was able to do so. “I ain’t a stranger to what you’re goin’ through. We’re well fuckin’ acquainted, to say the least. So I shoulda recognized it sooner with ya.” 

He paused, sighing. “Wanna know somethin’?” You nodded. “I was too busy thinkin’ ‘bout what I did to upset ya that I didn’t bother to think of any other possible reason as to why you’re actin’ the way you are. But once I realized it wasn’t my fault, not entirely, instead of bein’ there for ya, I was an ass. I thought, because I’m a damn idiot, that you were just mopin’ around for the hell of it, putting us both in danger simply ‘cause you were tired or some shit. Not once did I stop to think why. And I apologize.”

“You don’t gotta-” He cut you off with a pointed look. “I… I accept your apology, then.”

He nodded slowly, content. “I’d like to help ya, sweetheart. I know nothin’ I say or do is gonna make it go away like that… but I’d like to try. Whatever ya need from me, and you’ve got it.”

“I’m not sure what I need exactly,” you admitted quietly.

“When ya figure it out, will ya let me know?” You nodded.

“Just… be patient. As difficult as that is for you.” You hadn’t meant for the jab to come out, but you weren’t taking it back. Especially when a loud laugh left the Ghoul, making a smile of your own appear on your face. It was faint, yet it was there.

An almost starstruck expression appeared on his face, his laughter dying out. “I missed seein’ ya smile,” he murmured as if it was a subconscious thought.

You ducked your head, making him laugh again. “As for bein’ patient, well, I can be that, if that’s what ya need.”

“It’ll take some time,” you cautioned again, indirectly giving him a chance to back out of this. 

“Time ain’t an issue. I’ll wait as long as it fuckin’ takes.”

“You mean it?” Your voice was so soft, barely audible to either of you. 

You watched as one of his gloved hands inched towards you, palm upturned. Tentatively, you placed your in his, eyes growing wide when he brought your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it gently. “I swear,” he uttered, sealing the promise with another press of his lips.

As you returned your tingling hand to your lap, his eyes scanned over your face, a furrow appearing between his brow. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten somethin’? Somethin’ that I didn’t force ya to eat,” he added when you opened your mouth to respond. 

Your silence said enough, and he leaned down to his bag, which he had placed beside the couch when he sat. After a few moments of rustling through, he handed you a small bag of what appeared to be jerky, as well as a small canteen of water. “It ain’ human,” he added when you eyed the bag suspiciously before taking it.

The jerky was salty and tough when you took a bite, not quite wanting to, but unable to not eat under his gaze. You ate in silence until your stomach was full and your teeth hurt from the tough material. Taking a swig of water, you could feel your eyes growing heavy, eating seemingly draining your energy more than replenishing it. Stifling a yawn, you shoved the canteen back into his hand, and you noticed he had an almost pleased look on his face. 

You were confused, though, when he stood, making his way to the entrance of the room. For a moment, those thoughts flashed in your mind that told you that he was finally leaving, that he realized how pathetic you were. But instead of doing any of those things, you watched as he simply wedged a chair under the handle of the door, like he had done before you went to bed for the night. 

“What’re you doing?”

“We takin’ the day off. Doctor’s orders.”

“But aren’t we supposed to be in Filly in a few days?”

“We’ll be fine. You are gonna spend today catchin’ up on some much-needed rest.” He stood in front of you now, a moth-eaten blanket in his hands. 

“And what are you gonna do?” You asked, and he shrugged. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. Go ‘head, lie down.”

Your eyes quickly scanned the couch, and you took a deep breath before speaking again. “The couch is big enough for us both, no?”

For the second time that day, you’d stunned him with your responses. “Is… is that what ya want?”

Encouraged that he hadn’t just outrightly said no, you nodded your head, and a fond look crossed his features. He handed you the blanket before sitting once more, but instead of his back being against the cushions, he rested it against one of the armrests, not before tucking a pillow in front of it. 

Once he was situated, he opened up his arms to you, and you could’ve laughed at how uncertain he looked. Hands rested on your body when you laid down, head on his chest, laying on your stomach, and you made sure the blanket covered both your bodies as best you could. You weren’t too worried about covering all of you, though, with the sheer amount of warmth he was radiating. 

His eyes were already on you when you glanced up, a smile pulling at his lips. “Comfy?”

“Yes.” Your voice was barely audible, but he heard it. 

You felt his fidget with something in his hand behind your back, but you didn’t have to wait long to find out what he was doing. You felt fingers run along your scalp, making you shudder, before combing through any hair there. “Alright?”

You sighed contently, nodding your head before letting it fall back onto his chest. He continued to run his fingers there, his other hand tracing patterns across your shoulders. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until now, finding it hard to keep your eyes open. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. Safe from the world outside this room. Safe from the thoughts that plagued your mind. Safe from everything. 

He didn’t have to see your face to know that you were struggling to stay awake. “Go to bed. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“Promise?”

“Ain’t fuckin’ like I’m gonna be able to get up,” he chuckled, before taking a more serious tone. “I promise.”

That was all you needed to hear before you finally let the final strings of consciousness leave your grasp. Before you lost control of all your senses, though, you felt him lean down, pressing a barely-there kiss to the top of your head. “You’ll get through this, sweetheart.”

You believed him.

[bvckleyydiaz]

have a seat - aaron hotchner

title: have a seat

summary: you convince aaron not to shave his beard just yet.

pairing: aaron hotchner x afab!reader

word count: 901

warning(s): smut (mdni), oral (f receiving), reader praising aaron, and a bit of hairpulling

a/n: you can all blame @montyfandomlove for this. it's their fault.

a/n 2: also, i am extremely out of practice when it comes to writing smut. so please forgive me.

“Honey, I’m thinking about shaving my beard,” Aaron says as he stands in front of the bathroom mirror.

You lean your body forward to look at him through the open bathroom door. “Aaron, I swear to God, you’ll be sleeping on the couch if you shave.”

He pads out of the bathroom with a smile. “Oh, you’re a fan of the beard?”

You nod. “Absolutely. Very much a fan of the beard.” You climb out of bed and wrap your arms around his neck, and his hands find purchase on your hips. “In fact, it makes you look like a sexy lumberjack.”

He chuckles and moves to go back to the bathroom. “Definitely shaving, then. Got it.”

You pull him back to you and plant a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m serious, Aaron. I think you look unbelievably sexy with your beard. Please don’t shave.”

Smirking down at you, he pulls your chest flush with his. “Yeah? What my baby wants, my baby gets.”

“All I thought about while we were away on this case was how much I wanted to take you somewhere private and fuck your brains out,” you whisper, stroking his jaw with you your finger. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how this beard would feel on my skin, between my legs.”

You let out a loud, shrieking laugh when you are suddenly lifted into the air only to be dropped down onto the mattress. “Aaron!” He shifts his body to lie down, his head supported by the pillows. “What are you doing?”

“Sit on my face,” he tells you.

You blink, thinking that you misheard him. “What?”

“I said,” he emphasizes as he pulls you close enough to him that you’re practically sitting on his lap, “sit on my face.”

“Now?” You bite your lip in a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. “We’ve never tried that before.”

“No time like the present.” He grins and smacks your ass lightly. “Get up here, baby.”

You rid yourself of your sleep shorts and your underwear, and you crawl up Aaron’s body to straddle his shoulders. “Hi,” you giggle.

He wraps his arms around your thighs and places a kiss on each of them. “Hi,” he smiles at you. “You ready?”

You nod. He lets you lean forward enough to where your bare pussy is hovering over his face. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty. And so wet for me, too.”

“Please, Aaron,” you whimper. “Don’t tease.”

You feel him chuckle against your lips. "Okay, sweetheart. I'll play nice."

Aaron being so close to the most sensitive part of your body is dizzying. His hot breath brushed against the outsides of your wet lips, and you couldn’t help but let out a moan. He hadn’t even done anything to you, and you were already falling apart. You cry out when Aaron tightens his grip around your thighs and pulls you onto his mouth.

“Fuck!” One of your hands reaches out to grab onto the headboard to steady yourself while the other one buries itself into Aaron’s hair. “Fuck, Aaron, you make me feel so good…” 

The praise seems to spur him on as he flicks his tongue against your clit and tracing the tip of his tongue against it. There is nothing timid about what this man was doing; he knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly what to do to make a wet, whimpering mess.

“Aaron, please… Fuck me so good…” The only answer he gives is a firm suck to your clit, so you assume he heard your breathy pleas loud and clear. He pulls you impossibly closer to his mouth. “Baby, you’re going to suffocate if you pull me any closer.”

He leans away from your cunt enough to respond with, “Then, I’ll die a happy man.”

He grips your thighs hard, his fingertips pressing into the meat of them. The thought of Aaron gripping you tight enough to leave marks sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your pussy, and you feel some of your slick drip into Aaron’s mouth. He groans and sucks your clit harshly as a thank you.

“Fuck, Aaron! Shit,” the hand in his hair tightens around the strands, and you buck your hips against his mouth. 

“If you keep this up, I’ll cum,” you laugh, breathy and light. Aaron does not stop at your warning or even slow down at your warning. In fact, he speeds up the flicking of your clit against his tongue, and he even reaches up to tweak your nipples. “Mm! Christ, Aaron… Yeah, do that again.” He does as you ask, this time pulling and twisting them between his fingers. It makes you see stars. “Oh, fuck yes! Aaron, I’m close, I’m close. I’m going to cum, Aaron, fuck…”

With one last firm suck to your clit and twist of your nipples, you came. You came so hard that you thought you were going to pass out. “Fuck…” He gives your clit little kisses and caresses your thighs as you come down from the height of your orgasm. Once you were sure you weren’t going to black out, you climb off of him. Your wetness shines against his lips and chin, soaking his beard.

“We’re definitely doing that again,” you pant.

He presses a wet kiss to your lips, the tang of your cum seeping into your lips. “Oh, absolutely,” he says when he pulls away.

[yuanology]

You write for jjk right? So tender/soft sex w Gojo ,like imaging him actually having scars yknow with this “I’ll kiss all the scars on your skin” ,I’m down bad for that man ,like he is secretly begging for someone to praise him in the way he deserves yknow ,that man needs someone to love the weak and hurt gojo behind his facade of the strongest 😩😩😩 im going insane 🐸

yes, i do write for jjk and yes, i do write for gojo satoru and yes, i am going fucking feral

gojo satoru who finds his scars to be a sign of his failure as the strongest, a reminder of all of the people whom he failed to protect. he treats each scar not as a trophy of his survival but rather as a sign of weakness. a foolish thought, truly, but even the strongest has his faults at times.

( and there is a reason, after all as you so often joke, why he is called the strongest and not the wisest )

it's rare that you have the time to simply exist together and so, you both try and take as much advantage of it as possible. on the times when you can linger, you always do. even as he begs for you to go faster, tells you over and over again that he can take whatever you give him, that he won't break, but you still go slow. you ensure that he stays still — not that it takes much convincing; all you have to do is ask and he's eager to be your good boy. wanna be your good boy. am i your good boy, yet? — and that he feels every inch of you all over him.

this is one of the rare occasions in which satoru is self-conscious of himself, and you're more than aware of that. so, you ease him into it. first, you keep yourself quiet — easier to be agreed to if you don't give anything to rebuke — choosing instead to focus all your attention on kissing him all over. his throat, his lips, his cheek, his eyelids, his chest, his tits, his stomach, his thighs, his calves, everything. satoru, ever the perfect, pliant boy that he is for you, never tries to stop you. his muscles strain from his efforts to keep still, to take everything you give him, but he's so good at it that you barely even notice. you're too busy peppering kisses all over, hands on his skin so that you can feel more of him.

only once he's calmed down, used to the feeling of your mouth on him, do you begin to talk. you've learned a long time ago that a man like gojo satoru may preen under the attention, but the lonely boy in satoru will always shy away from honest compliments. so, you have to find another way to appreciate him without having him shrink away from you.

so, you kiss his hips, turning a blind eye on the way his breath hitches as your thumb brushes along a dent on his skin there, and you softly murmur, "you're so pretty." right against his skin.

so, you kiss the scar over his chest, right above where his heartbeat echoes through his ribs, ignoring the way he squirms and his gaze averts from you, and you tell him, "your heart's pounding, baby."

so, you kiss at the inside of his thigh, pretending not to feel the way his thighs tremble when you press a little too hard on an old jagged mark on his skin there, and you whisper, "you're so damn perfect." and you forget to tell him that you don't mean it in the way that he's the strongest, but because he's your satoru, but you know that he understands it all the same.

so, you kiss the most recent scar on his throat, the one from one close call or another, and you catch his chin in your hand and force him to meet your gaze so that he listens when you say, "i'm glad you came home."

sex with satoru after that is never the rough, harsh tumble that you would often do when you're chasing after time and desperate to have each other one last time. it's never just a good fuck, one with greedy hands and very little devouring mouths.

sex with satoru after that is always slow, tender, as if you're trying to meld your bones with each other until your entire existence becomes one and the same. it's always nails digging into your back, satoru's low sobs echoing in your ears, and your mouth peppering kisses and gentle worship against his skin.

the world can have tough, perfect gojo "the strongest" satoru.

but you?

you'll have scarred, beautiful, vulnerable satoru, and that is all the more precious.

[jakes3resin]

Blondes Have More Fun

Anyways, this is probably the closest I'll ever get to writing Crack fic for this fandom, so enjoy Blond!Bucky and his ability to drive Buck and the entirety of the 100th wild with his smile and hair! Also personally I think Callum looks like a 24 year old when blond, so imagine handsome charming, nearly thirty Bucky Egan running around looking like a baby faced newbie then you'll be half a bowled over as the 100th.

It is a truth universally acknowledged at Thorpe Abbotts that Major John "Bucky" Egan can be talked into anything. Anything. So long as you were convincing and Buck wasn't around to drag him away from the dumber ideas, Bucky was down to play ball.

Curt had once talked him into using a British accent for a whole week, even in meetings with the CO. Bucky hadn't even blinked before adopting an uncannily perfect London accent. It was so convincing that some of the newer replacements had asked if the man was British.

Another time, he got into a howl off with Meatball after Hambone said he didn't know which one was worse. The pair were so loud that no one could actually tell who won. Most were too busy covering their ears. The few that weren't couldn't decide. It was officially settled as a draw, but Benny still refuses to accept that Bucky would ever beat his precious boy Meatball in anything.

There were countless tales of Bucky getting into trouble simply because someone had said within his earshot the six words needed to wreck Jack Kidd's night.

"You know what would be fun?"

The magic words. That or a dare would send Bucky careening into trouble with half the 100th behind him to watch the fireworks. Honestly, most of the time, Bucky was already getting up to his own antics, so convincing him to do something else wasn't exactly hard.

It was one such utterance of the phrase that sparked a wildfire within the 100th Bomber Group that threatened to tear them asunder and send one Major Gale "Buck" Cleven to an early grave. Or prison.

The night was like any other Friday night. Bucky had gone out with Curt and Bubbles. Buck had chosen to stay in for the night reading, and Harry had done much the same. Kidd, the minder of the entire 100th, had gone to the officer's club while the trio had gone to a local pub in the town just off base. So the usual minders of this trio of mad men were missing, and as the saying goes, while the cats are away, the mice will play.

It started as Bubbles's idea.

At least that's what they think it started as. A few too many drinks had left the evening a blur for Curt and Bubbles and a blank for Bucky. That last fact will be important later.

"You know what would be fun?" Bubbles said, or perhaps it was Curt. Or maybe it was Bucky. But it was probably Bubbles. The man was quite the troublemaker, he just hid it better behind soft smiles and manners.

"What?" Bucky leaned against the bar to grin at Bubbles. Well perhaps a more accurate word would be slumped, he'd spent half the night playing some weird darts game that required shots for every bull's eye Tommy made. It was safe to say that the man was on the downhill slide to wasted. Curt kept an ear on the pair as he flirted with a pretty blonde next to them at the bar.

"Being blonde." Bubbles sighed. "All the movies make it seem fun, don't they? And Major Cleven sure is pretty with his blond hair. I bet it'd look really pretty as well on your curls Bucky."

"Sorry, sweetheart, one moment," Curt turned his head to stare at Bubbles. "You think Buck's pretty?"

"And you don't?"

"I do!"

"We know you do, Bucky," Curt sighed and leaned further onto the bar to make eye contact with Bubbles. "I mean, sure, objectively, you could say he is, but I thought you were wrapped up with Croz and Jean?"

"I am, but I still got eyes don't I? 'Sides ain't there something fun about being blonde?" Bubbles leaned against his cupped hand on the bar. "Can't a mind wonder?"

"Yeah Curt," Bucky rose in defense of his friend slinging an arm around Bubble's neck. The move was so uncoordinated that the pair were nearly sent to the floor. "Why can't Bubbles wonder? I wanna go blond, too!"

Curt rolled his eyes at them, but an idea was taking root in his head. An amazing idea.

"Well," Curt grinned. "Why wonder when you can do?"

"You boys aren't thinking about bleaching your friend's hair on your own are you?" A voice cut through the trio's conversation. It seemed the blonde woman from before had been listening in and was rightly amused by the drunk airmen's conversation.

"Cause you'll fry his whole head off in the state you're in, and the world would mourn those curls." She lifted a hand to tug gently on one of Bucky's loose wavy curls. He smiled at her, loose and happy. Usually, only Buck plays with his hair, but Bucky doesn't mind when anyone else does. Buck does though, which Bucky still hasn't figured out.

"Well, how do you suppose we save his curls then," Curt paused searching for the woman's name, "Nora."

"Good job, I half thought you were too drunk to remember my name handsome." Curt smiled, and Nora kept talking

"There's a drugstore down the way. Stocks up on anything a girl, or flyboy in need, could ever need. I'll help you boys out." Nora laughed. "You'll look mighty pretty dyeing those curls blond Major. I wanna see 'em first."

With Nora leading the way, the trio tripped over themselves into chaos. Bucky laughed as Bubbles rambled on about how pretty he'll look as a blond. Curt butting in to say that he'll need to either shave his mustache or bleach it too.

On base, Buck felt a shiver run down his spine as he laid down to sleep. Writing it off as just a chill from the cold British air, the man fell asleep.

Bucky groaned as he woke up. Voices drifted around him. His head felt like it'd be screwed off and used as a bowling ball all night, and as desperately as he wanted to go back to sleep, he knew that now that the sun was up, he was up.

"Curt, if that's you snoring on my legs, I'm gonna kick you off." Bucky pulled his pillow further over his head, trying to block out said snores.

"Fuck off," Came the grumbled reply. An elbow dug into the back of his knee.

"Get off," John whined. Curt huffed shifting just enough to let Bucky free his legs. "Why didn't you go to your own bed?"

"Yours is comfier." Bubbles murmured next to the pair, and Bucky really was starting to wonder what the hell they all drank the night before.

"It's the same cot as everybody else." Bucky grumbled, finally sitting up. Bubbles and Curt immediately swooped onto the space he abandoned. "Rude. You just want me for my bed."

"But it's such a lovely bed, sweetheart," Curt buried his face in Bucky's pillow, not even glancing at the man he was stealing from. Bubbles seemed to have immediately fallen back to sleep.

"I'm getting breakfast," Bucky yawned, stretching his arms above his head. "Meet me there when you idiots wake up. I'll sneak you in."

"Sir, yes, sir." Curt's hand flopped into a mock salute that had Bucky rolling his eyes.

First things first, breakfast. Or at least coffee for his hangover.

Getting dressed as quickly as he could, Bucky didn't even waste time checking how he looked in a mirror. He went to smooth down his mustache only to curse when he found it missing. Thinking Curt must have shaved it off as a joke, Bucky groaned but moved on. He didn't even touch his hair after that, just walked right out of his barracks. The only thing that mattered to him was coffee and how he'd get his hands on a gallon of it. It wouldn't be the first time he ran around base with his hair going every which way. No one would bat an eye.

Had he known what kind of chaos he was about to wreck upon the poor, unsuspecting airmen of Thorpes Abbotts, Bucky would have at least styled it a bit. You know, just to ensure maximum chaos.

The bike ride to the mess wasn't awful. The fresh air helped at least. With his sunglasses on, his head felt less like it was going to split open and more human. What was weird was how everyone stopped in their tracks to watch him ride past.

"Is that-?"

"No way!"

"Someone get Kidd!"

"Holy shit!"

"Major Cleven is going to lose his mind!"

"Do you think he has a twin?"

"Hell if I know, I can't believe Major Cleven let him out of the barracks like that."

"Lord help us if there's another Egan running around."

Bucky ignored them. He was way too hungover to parse through what nonsense the boys were going on about, and he simply pedaled faster to get to the officer's mess. He just wanted his coffee.

"Major Egan, sir!"

Bucky glances up from securing his bike and meets the eye of one of the newer boys. Kid barely looks old enough to have enlisted.

"Uh," Bucky searches his memory for this kid's name. Bucky tried to know some of the newbies names, but it was harder than he'd ever admit. "Monroe, right?

"Yes, sir!" The kid squeaked, a bright tomato blush spreading across his cheeks. Bucky winced, the sound drilling right into his brain. "I wanted to say you look nice today, sir. Your, your hair is real nice!"

"Thanks, Monroe," Bucky smiled, thrown by how Monroe managed to grow even redder. He reaches out to clasp the kid on the shoulder. "You alright there? You look like you're gonna faint. Had any breakfast yet?"

"I-I'm fine, sir, thank you!" Monroe was stock still under Bucky's hand, but he wrote it off as nerves. Some of the boys got nervous around the older pilots, especially if they were officers. "I'll be going now! Have a good day, sir!"

In a flash, the blushing replacement ducked under Bucky's arm and ran as fast as he could down the lane. Bucky watched him go, head tilted not sure what the hell just happened to him. He heard a few shrieks behind him but wrote it off as typical background noise. There was always something going on.

"Weird kid." Bucky turned to walk into the officer's mess. He'd have to tell Buck about it when he saw him next. Maybe he'd understand what just happened.

Speaking of, Buck had better have saved him a seat for breakfast. Bucky was not going to battle the morning rush as well as his hangover just to find out he had nowhere to sit.

On the way inside, Bucky ran into Veal. As in, he literally ran into the man because he'd stopped dead in his tracks staring at him. Bucky hadn't even seen the other before he practically bowled him over.

"Veal, what the hell?" Bucky groaned.

"You," Veal stared at him wide-eyed. If Bucky were less hungover, he'd get quite a kick out of this. "You, you?"

"Shaved, I know," Bucky gestured to his face. He turned to keep walking into the officer's mess. "Yeah, Curt had some fun last night."

"Wait, no! Bucky-!" Veal went to grab him, but Bucky just swerved out of the way. Nothing was getting in his way in his quest for coffee. "Bucky! Stop! Don't go in there!"

"Yeah, yeah, Veal," Bucky waved a hand behind him. "I get you're shocked, but come on, man. It's not the first time any of you've seen me without it!"

Bucky rushed in, not paying anymore attention to Veal. He walked with one purpose. Coffee. He didn't care if the other officers stopped and stared at him slackjawed as he walked past. He was a man on a mission.

"Hey, coffee, please? Whole pot if you could," Bucky smiled at the attendant, who blushed scarlet before running off. Thrown but not deterred, Bucky just shrugged and turned to find Buck. Maybe he'd be able to steal Buck's coffee.

He found Buck seated near one of the windows with his back facing Bucky. Jack was at his table, but otherwise, it was empty. Bucky started over.

Jack saw him first and choked on his grapefruit juice.

"Oh shit," Jack choked out. Buck leaned over to check on him.

"Alright, Jack?" Bucky grabbed the seat next to Buck. Jack just stared at him, eyes wide. Bucky tilts his head confused. "Buck, what's with him?"

Buck turns and freezes. Bucky stares at him. Buck stares back.

"Buck?" Bucky reaches out to shake him.

"You," Buck starts but doesn't finish. His wide blues eyes stare at Bucky's face.

"Coffee, sir!"

The attendant from before arrives with Bucky's requested pot of coffee and a cup.

"Thanks!" Bucky smiles up at the other. The attendant trips backward. Buck turns and glares at the other man. He flees.

"Buck, what the hell?" Bucky nudges Buck. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

Buck turns to stare at Bucky again, a clench to his jaw that Bucky's knows means he's holding something back. Jack seems to have started breathing normally again.

"Your hair!" Jack says. Bucky reaches up to touch his hair. Sure, he didn't style it this morning, but was it so bad? Monroe said it looked good!

Speaking of, why was everyone focusing on his hair today?

"What about it?" Bucky's genuinely curious now. Buck's still staring at him, eyes bright, and now Jack seems to be wishing for death.

"Its-!"

"Pretty."

Bucky turns to Buck. It's his turn to stare wide-eyed at the other. A blush rises up to his cheeks. Buck's not one to mince his words, and a compliment from him feels akin to a hundred.

The entire mess hall goes quiet as Buck stares at him. Bucky smiles at him. Buck goes rigid, and Jack chokes on his juice next to them. Again.

"Bucky!" Curt slammed his hand against the window, happy as a clam and utterly sober. Bucky hates that Irish constitution of his. "Let us in!"

Bucky stands up to hoist open the window. Jack's still too busy choking on his juice to stop him, and Buck seems to have frozen solid. Bubbles and Curt fall through seconds later. The pair immediately start talking over each other happily, and Bucky is starting to wonder if he was the only one who woke up with a hangover.

"God, you should hear the scuttlebutt going round!" Curt cackles as he launches himself into the seat across from Bucky. Bubbles nods next to him, already munching on a piece of toast Bucky thinks used to be Jack's.

"Anything fun?" Bucky dumps creamer into his coffee. He moans as he takes a sip of it. God, coffee really was the best hangover cure. Bucky doesn't notice how quiet the mess hall got until Bubbles finally answers his question a minute later. Odd.

"Just how pretty your hair looks now Major," Bubbles smiled at him. Bucky reached for his hair again.

"Is it really so different?" He asks. Buck makes a noise next to him like a dying chicken, and Curt cackles.

"Blond really is your color, Bucky! You look like one of those pin up posters running around like that!" Curt reaches across the table to tug on one of his curls, drawing it down into his eyesite. Buck bangs his knee against the table with a swear. Bucky would fuss over him, but he's reevaluating his whole morning with this new information.

"Oh!" Bucky gasps. Now he feels silly. "That's why Monroe complimented me outside?"

"Pardon?" Buck's voice comes out strangled. Bucky swings his gaze back to him. Buck's blue eyes are nearly electric, and Bucky gulps.

"Monroe? Cute kid? Brunette replacement with a billion freckles that disappear when he blushes?" Bucky rambles. Curt cackles again as Jack buries his face into his hands. Bubbles grabs a slice of Buck's toast this time.

"And he stopped you?" Buck's jaw was doing the thing Bucky knows only happens when he's pissed. But why would he be mad? Bucky tilts his head to stare at Buck, curls flopping down into his eyes now that Curt's untucked them from behind his ears.

Buck clenches his fist.

"Yeah, he and Veal both stopped me before I walked in." Bucky reaches over to grab Buck's hand. "You okay?"

"I'm fine John," Buck reaches up to tuck his loose curls back behind his ear. His hand lingers, and Bucky fights the urge to press his cheek into Buck's hand. "You look real pretty."

"Yeah?" Bucky sits up straighter, leaning into Buck's space. "How pretty?"

"Like a daydream." Buck whispers, voice low. His blue eyes won't stop staring, and Bucky can tell his blush is spreading by the volume of Curt's laugh.

Oh, Bucky could just kiss the other.

"Yeah, Nora did a nice job on your hair!" Bubbles pipes up having polished off Buck's toast. "We should write her a thank you card!"

"Nora?" Buck twitches.

"The girl who dyed Bucky's hair, of course!" Curt chimed in reaching for Bucky's coffee. Bucky batted his hands away, holding desperately onto his cup. "Pretty girl too! Kept running her hands through Bucky's hair saying how nice it was."

"I think nows a good time to stop that." Jack shoved his last slice of toast in Curt's mouth.

Buck's hand was still hovering over Bucky's cheek.

"Oh, now I remember!" Bucky leaned towards Curt and Bubbles with a bright smile. "She kissed me on the cheek before we left, right?"

Buck pushed his chair away from the table with a screech. Jack turned back to his grapefruit juice with a sigh.

Buck stormed out of the building, and it was through the combined efforts of Curt and Bubbles that Bucky didn't run after him. They could hear yelling through the still open window.

"Oh shit!"

"Everybody run! Major Cleven's pissed!"

"Who flirted with Bucky this time?!"

"Buck calm down, whoever it was they probably didn't mean anything by it!"

"Outta my way Crank."

"Buck, c'mon if you go to jail, who'll stay by Bucky's side?"

"Only gotta go to prison if I get caught."

"That's right-wait, Buck, no!"

Bucky sipped at his coffee. Jack sighed and turned to Bucky.

"Would you please go stop him? I'm not explaining to Harding why one of the 100th murdered a civilian, a fellow Major, and a replacement."

"Buck wouldn't do that," Bucky rolled his eyes.

Jack stared at him, judgement clear in his eyes. Bucky shifted under his gaze.

"Fine," Bucky groaned and pushed away from the table. He refilled his cup of coffee. "He wouldn't, but I'll go stop him."

Curt and Bubbles chirped their goodbyes as they waved down an attendant. Bucky mourned his pot of coffee as he glanced back and saw Curt gleefully pouring it into a cup.

Stepping put in the sunshine, Bucky reached for his sunglasses. Finding Buck would be easy. He simply turned in the direction of the yelling and started walking.

He ignored the boys all watching him and whispering. Now that he was walking, he could see his reflection in the windows of the buildings he passed. His normally brown locks were now a bright blond. He felt a bit foolish for not seeing it earlier, but hangovers tended to narrow one's field of vision to only what's necessary.

"DeMarcooo!" Bucky called out when he saw the other walking Meatball. "You seen Buck anywhere?"

"Just missed him," Benny yelled back. He pointed to the left of the barracks. "Went that way!"

"Thanks!" Bucky called back with a smile. A few of the boys around him erupted in whispers.

"Nice hair!" Benny yelled with a grin. Bucky rolled his eyes and kept walking. Buck couldn't have gone too far, right?

He found Buck only a few minutes later outside of one of the barracks the replacements were quartered. He was leaning against a wall talking to someone.

"Buck!" Bucky jogged over. As he got closer, he realized that the person Buck was talking to was the kid from earlier. "Monroe! Good to see you again so soon!"

"Major!" Monroe squeaked, eyes bouncing from Buck to Bucky. "Major Cleven was just reminding me about a few chores that I forgot about! I'll get going! Sirs!"

The kid ran off before Bucky could stop him. Buck watched with a satisfied gleam in his eyes, and Bucky huffed out a laugh.

"You know, you don't have to act all jealous to get my attention," Bucky pulled Buck to him by wrapping an arm around his waist. "I'll still only ever look at you."

"Just making sure everyone else knows that." Buck replied, voice low and serious.

Bucky reached up his free hand to drag him down into a kiss. Buck melted into his touch. Bucky laughed into he kiss as he tried to keep his coffee from spilling all over the two of them. He pecks the corner of Buck's mouth and pulls away.

"So you like the hair?" Bucky scrunches his nose into a shit eating grin.

Buck wiped that grin off his face with another kiss. Not that Bucky was complaining, of course.

Later that night, after making sure Buck didn't actually murder anyone, Bucky found himself in front of a vaguely familiar drug store.

"Well Major, I take it your boy liked the blond?" Nora grinned, pink lips spread into a devilish smile. She leaned one hip against the drug store counter. "Surprised you made it back here. You boys weren't exactly stone cold sober when you left."

"I always remember my bets, darling. I'll forget a lot but never those." Bucky laughed and set his hat down on the counter next to her. A single blond curl fell down into his eyes. "Now, what's this about makeup?"

"Oh, Major, you'll look lovely in something peachy."

[gaylittlemans]

I am so inexplicably tired and vessel!Dazai has been haunting me so I will info dump about this dumb little AU because I can

This probably will not make sense, will make it seem like I don’t understand his character (who actually does? Besides his creator, obviously. Probably), or won’t have proper grammar but in the world of this shit, he will become a part of my personality if I do not write him down. So!

First, little stuffs about this AU because I can:

Dazai is trans here (FtM) because I kin him inexplicably and so am I, but he doesn’t experience that much gender dysphoria (mostly because he feels just a little disconnected from his body) and honestly what is the point of worrying about what body you have when the embodiment of the allure of death is currently using your body as her host? Exactly. There isn’t one. Also because I want to give this man a break on hating himself.

Basically everything about this AU is the exact same as the original, but Dazai is the vessel of a god, similarly to Chuuya. Some people do know about the whole kinda being a god thing, but not everyone. When he was Demon Prodigy, Mori kept and convinced Dazai to keep the vessel thing mostly a secret because it was better to keep as much information about him shrouded in mystery and basically make speaking his title mean the invitation of death, rather than let Dazai go and murder everyone as a vessel. I will sort of expand on this later. Probably.

Chuuya still has Arahabaki. He gets called ‘Baki’ in the rare times his name is mentioned in their world because I refuse to respect the god of destruction (Dazai started calling Arahabaki ‘Baki’ and Chuuya eventually found himself calling him that too). Dazai’s possessor’s ‘Machiko’, but might sometimes be called ‘Chiko’ or some other nickname instead.

Dazai is just slightly cannibalistic.

I ship Soukoku, which will probably be obvious by the way I write them. Neither revolves around the other, but they are both permanently drawn to one another.

Dazai struggles with skin picking in this au because he kinda craves the taste of blood thanks to Chiko so he does care a little bit more about his hygiene in this au so he doesn’t have anything to pick. His hands are very soft in his world. My man is moisturized 😚

So, Dazai.

He’s around seven years old. His life has been nothing but dehumanizing and cruel and cold. He’s being raised in a neighborhood of rich assholes who think they’re all better than one another because of meaningless, materialistic means. (Death will claim all of them in the end, so it doesn’t matter what they do, anyhow. He won’t say anything about them, though. If they need to hide from Her gaze, he won’t judge.) His parents are controlling and overbearing and want him to grow up to be some rich asshole’s trophy wife. He doesn’t want that to happen, but his body will not let him say anything to disappoint them. He can’t afford their ire; he’s seen what they do to people who think they can and the least he can say is that it looks painful.

He’s been raised by nannies and caretakers his entire life thus far and some of them were nice, but most of them just followed his parents orders to make him behave.

Modest, pretty, demure.

Modest, pretty, demure.

Those were the most important things for a little girl his age to learn. Of course. He is nothing, he is not human, if he doesn’t behave. If he doesn’t act modestly and polite. If the boys in the neighborhood tug on his skirt, he is to hold it still so they cannot expose him. If the girls in his private school pick on him for his doe eyes and thousand yard stare, he is to be reserved and accept their insults graciously and not respond to their taunts.

He is a monster if he raises his voice, or disobeys his parents or caretakers or teachers, or acts out of line—acts like a child. His purpose of being brought into the world is to grow up to serve his future husband and children and be pretty.

So he kills them.

The voice of death herself whispers in his ears at night, when the moon is full and bright, that they do not deserve their gifts, they do not deserve their gifts of breath and life.

So he takes them away like she says to.

He stands in the woods beyond the gated mansions in a white, blood splattered nightgown and a pair of what are probably Mary Jane’s, but he’s not for certain and white, just as blood splattered, socks. He doesn’t remember much of what he did, but he does not mind. The cool night, late summer breeze reaches his skin through the minuscule layers he wears. He has always run cold, kind of like what you would expect a corpse to feel like (they’re actually room temperature), and has yet to build the habit of halfway mummifying himself. Bad circulation, doctors had told him. How fun.

Here is where he sees her for the first time, the woman—the God—who changes his life forever, with the handle of one of his father’s expensive kitchen knives grasped in his right hand as the left toys with the seam of his dress. She’s beautiful. She speaks to him, but he does not remember all of what she says. He remembers “Machiko”. It must be her name. He also remembers her permitting him to call her a nickname, as he’s young and he deserves to choose what he calls his friend.

Chiko offers him her hand and Dazai’s left hand goes numb. As if puppeteered, he moves to take her hand and she smiles at him. For only the second or so time in his life, he feels warm.

Dazai learns a lot from her. He would kill without her influence, but she tells him to embrace death and its endless, inescapable dance and he does.

Perhaps too much.

Mori Ougai was a man, a doctor, whom was highly praised by rich folks he’d grown up around (and consequently been raised by after the murder of his parents). He had met the man before, who had said he was interesting and reminded him of himself. In his adulthood, Dazai was ashamed to have felt pride at the fact Mori found him intriguing, or that the man saw himself reflected in the shattered, blank soul of his.

At fourteen, his adoptive parents rushed him to the doctor another attempt at death. He woke up, hazy and exhausted, and strapped to a bed with an oxygen mask, IV in his arm, and a heart monitor. Machiko screamed at him, for his safety and his body, to not listen to the man in the white coat who offered him a reason to live, a purpose to life outside of being a vessel. Just like he’d subconsciously been searching for.

He did not listen to her.

Dazai would say he was built to be a mafioso. And it was easy enough to sever ties with his adoptive family—they weren’t too attached, anyways—and old life.

When he was fifteen years old, he met the most annoying person on earth; Chuuya Nakahara.

Every move the boy makes is so completely full of life and energy. Dazai would say he was envious, but he was not. Machiko was drawn to the boy, though, or—as he truly found out—she was drawn to Arahabaki. Death and destruction go hand in hand, he supposed. And it seems Dazai wasn’t the only one who felt that pull towards the other.

Boo. Feelings sucked. He wouldn’t say he had a crush on Chuuya, no, never, but he was drawn to the redhead like the pull of gravity said redhead controlled.

But the first time he had seen Corruption, seen the final form of Upon The Tainted Sorrow, Dazai had been mesmerized. For all his wit and bravado, he still had no explanation as to why he found this redheaded slug so enchanting, even seven years later.

Machiko still hailed over him, but she was not his puppeteer. She guided him and attempted to help him through inexplicably human issues, but she did not attempt to forcibly take control of him. If she was in charge of his body, it was entirely because he had allowed her too. He spoke with her on the regular—she was a mentor who hadn’t forced herself into that roll exactly as Mori had.

Machiko was the god of death, yet also the god of allure, of temptation, of beauty, and of yearning. Some called her the moon. Others simply didn’t know of her existence. It didn’t matter to Dazai. His mentor knew how to be merciful, despite the blood and desolation she craved.

Chuuya clearly remembered the day he’d discovered Dazai was also a vessel.

Things had been dangerous and he had still been injured from a mission Mori had sent them out on previously. He had been occupied by a horde of enemies when he’d lost track of Dazai amongst the commotion. Grunts were incapacitated or dead at his feet before he knew it.

Now, he would never admit it, but looking around and not finding the dark, sullen eye of his partner watching him from a safe distance had scared him. Made him anxious.

He pushed his way into a corridor that had been blocked by debris during the fight that he could almost sense Dazai’s shenanigans coming from and walked—maybe just a bit quicker than normal—until he saw bodies scattered and crimson pooling. In the center of this crop circle of cadaver was his partner, small, white, star-like marks twinkling across what very little skin was exposed to the open air, ripping out the throat of one of their enemies with his teeth. Blood soaked his clothes and his bandages.

Chuuya felt unreasonably calm, and oddly awestruck, at the sight.

And that’s all I can write 😚 ‘cause I am so tired. I dunno what else to say, ‘cause this is just about all my smooth little brain has let me know about the blorbos of today, but yeah. Thank you if you actually read all of this. :3333

Have a good day/night/morning/afternoon/evening!! Remember to drink water, eat, take your meds, all that.

Byeeeeee <3333

[missvelvetsstuff]

With Friends Like You, Who Needs Enemies

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Reader is a mutant with the ability to turn sound into light who was 'adopted' aka stolen as a child by Baron Von Strucker to use for experimentation. She was given a form of the Super soldier serum so in addition to her mutant abilities she also has super strength, enhanced senses and healing. When he starts experimenting on his volunteers, the Maximoff twins, she tries to convince them to escape with her but they tell the Baron that she's planning to escape so he doubles her cell security. Steve and reader met when the team recovered Loki's scepter from Strucker.

She falls in love with Steve and becomes good friends with Nat but they aren't the friends she thinks they are.

This story is canon adjacent except that Thanos never happened.

NOTES: I'm in the middle of reading Unwanted by @scoonsalicious and am really pissed at that Bucky which made writing fluff a challenge so I hope this came out alright.

LMK if y'all want smut

Chapter 13

Warnings: little angst but mostly fluff

Bucky kissed Rainbow on the cheek as he dropped her off in her room to get ready for their date. Before Bucky even took two steps away from her door, Steve hurried up and started knocking. Rainbow opened the door smiling, thinking Bucky had forgotten something but her face fell when she saw Steve looking at her expectantly.

She sighed "What do you want, Steve?"

Steve smiled at her "I was wondering if you had plans tonight? Maybe we could go for dinner?"

Rainbow shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose "I don't think so Steve. I have plans tonight but even if I didn't, I still wouldn't spend any time with you even if the world was on fire and you owned all the water. Go find yourself a new girl to control and cheat on." She slammed the door in his face.

Steve heard something behind him and glared at Bucky who was leaning up against the wall chuckling at him. "I waited to see if she needed any help dealing with you but it seems like she can handle herself just fine.

And damn pal, the attitude she gave you was hot as fuck."

He slapped Steve on the shoulder "Well, man, I've got a date to get ready for with my sweet Rainbow and I do not want to be late. Catch you later, punk."

Steve just stood in the hallway, seething, until an idea to interfere with their date started forming and he walked away to develop it.

Wanda went to Rainbows room to help her get ready for her date. Rainbow was already anxious.

"I don't know what to wear, I don't have much."

Wanda looked at her "It's just a date, not like you two don't already finish each others sentences all the time. Bucky is crazy about you, he'd love you in a potato sack so stop worrying about it."

Wanda hummed looking through Rainbows closet before grabbing a hanger. "How about this?" She waved a baby blue sun dress "and.......this?" Putting her black leather biker jacket over it. "And some sandals? Light make up and relaxed hair?"

Rainbow laughed and nodded "Yes!" Before sitting down so Wanda could work on her hair.

Rainbow hummed without even realizing and her aura glowed so Wanda giggled "You must not be too nervous because your lights are so light and soft"

Rainbow felt her face heat up and her lights went pink "Why would I be nervous? Bucky and I are already know each other so well. I feel like all the other stuff, you know Strucker, Nat all that bad was there to make sure I appreciate right now. I mean do you think there's something I should be nervous about? Did you see something in Bucky's head? Tell me Wanda please!" She felt her heart racing.

Wanda rubbed her back "No there's nothing,  I didn't read anything it was just your lights were so pretty."

Rainbow sighed and tried to soothe herself. "I'm more worried about Steve trying to cause trouble. He knocked on my door after the meeting and asked me to go out with him. I don't think he's going to back down."

Wanda consoled her "We aren't going to let Steve mess things up for you. I'll keep an eye on him to make sure."

Wanda finished her work and stood back. "Stand up and take a look."

Rainbow stood and looked at herself in the mirror, gasped, then twirled to make sure it was really her. "Wanda, what did you do? You made me beautiful."

Wanda scoffed playfully "No love, you are beautiful. I just helped highlight what you already have."

Rainbow felt her emotions welling up and her eyes felt teary. She fanned her face with her hands "Oh no Wanda, you're gonna make me cry and ruin my face. I just, I don't, I'm, no I can't do this it's too much."

Wanda handed her some tissues "No, stop it. You're just nervous but it's going to be perfect. Trust me."

Rainbow hugged her friend and sat on her couch to wait for Bucky.

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

Bucky looked himself over in his mirror, black jeans, button up and leather jacket. Simple and very him. He left his room to pick up the flowers he had ordered at reception and back upstairs to pick up his Rainbow.

He passed his own door to see Steve leaned up against it.

Bucky shook his head "No time for your BS Rogers, find a new hobby."

Steve scoffed "I don't think so. You're nuts if you think I'm just going to stand back and watch you take my girl. I'm not that skinny weakling you used to protect."

Bucky nodded "I agree, that weakling wouldn't have treated Rainbow the way you have."

Steve snapped "Not Rainbow, her fucking name is Y/N and I will get her back." he shoved Bucky into the wall.

Bucky stared at the man he used to consider his brother before setting the flowers aside and cracked his neck calmly. He moved so quickly after that, that Steve couldn't follow his movements and found himself against the wall with Bucky's vibranium hand around his neck. Again.

Bucky held him a moment, breathing heavily before looking Steve in the eyes "This is the LAST time I'm gonna say this. You fucked up and RAINBOW isn't yours, doesn't want to be yours and I'm honestly baffled trying to understand why she won't let me kill you. She's with me now and I'm not gonna fuck up like you did. Now I'm taking her on a date and you are gonna stay here, in the building, and leave us the fuck alone. Got it?"

Steve tried to speak and nod but he couldn't. Bucky chuckled and let up on Steve's neck "Sorry, I guess I'm a little overzealous. Are we clear?"

Steve nodded wordlessly while looking past Bucky's shoulder, seeing Y/N beckoning him and followed her into his own room.

Bucky saw Wanda down the hall, red magic reaching from her hands to follow Steve into his room. She smiled at Bucky and nodded her head towards Rainbows room.

Bucky smiled back, dusted himself off, picked up his flowers and hurried to Rainbows door, knocking quickly. When she opened her door his jaw dropped, making her giggle.

"Hi Jamie." She took the flowers he held out for her.

"Damn doll, you get prettier every time I see you."

She smiled and felt her face heat up, hoping he wouldn't notice. "You look very handsome too. Let me put these flowers in some water and we can go."

Bucky took her hand after she took care of the flowers and led her to the entrance of the building.

When he opened the door for her, Rainbow gasped to see a horse drawn carriage waiting for them.

She looked over at Bucky who shrugged "It's incredible what you can do when you have Tony Stark backing you up." He held his hand up to help her step into the carriage.

They rode all the way around the lake and came back around to the end of the property stopping at a spot with soft outdoor lights and a blanket spread out topped by an assortment of pillows. Soft jazz music seemed to come out of nowhere.

The driver stopped the horse and Bucky helped Rainbow out of the carriage which went far enough away to give them privacy but close enough to be there when they were ready to go home.

Rainbow looked at the setting in awe "It's so pretty Jamie, I love this!"

Bucky stared at her with a smile on his face "Absolutely beautiful"

Rainbow looked at him, realized he was looking at her then felt the butterflies explode and leave a tingle in her core.

Bucky smirked and kissed her cheek before offering a hand to help her sit and get comfortable on the blanket. She giggled playing with them until she was comfortable.

Bucky poured wine and put out a dish of fruit, veggies, cheese and crackers for them to snack on. They talked and laughed, quietly watched the sun set in each others arms, then talked more until Bucky leaned over and kissed her. He was soft and slow to start, gently nibbling her lower lip until she opened up for him and their tongues danced together. He pulled her closer and ran his hands all over her body until they both needed to come up for air.

Bucky caressed her cheek with his flesh hand and smiled when she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. He gently grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into another kiss. She kissed him back with all the love and passion she felt. She felt his vibranium hand tighten around her waist until she could feel his erection pushing into her center and moaned into his mouth.

He smiled into the kiss and moved his hand down to grab her ass and grind into her.

He pulled back to check on her, looking into her beautiful eyes "Are you ok doll you let me know if I'm going too fast, yeah?"

Rainbow nodded "I will but you aren't. I want you Jamie. I need you."

She reached down to barely run her hand over his straining cock. Even through his clothes she made him feel like nothing he remembered.

He grunted, his voice husky "If you keep that up I'm gonna make a mess in my pants like a teenager."

He pulled away a little "Maybe we should cool off? Maybe a walk along the lake shore?"

Rainbow pouted and shook her head before rubbing him a little harder, nibbling on his earlobe and whispering in his ear "Maybe, we should get back to my room so I can show you what I meant when I said I need you."

Bucky kissed her one more time before grabbing his phone and texting the coachman to pick them up.

He looked at Rainbow and winked as he pulled her up to stand "Then let's get out of here, doll."

Chapter 14

Smut? Or no smut?

@vicmc624

[bumblebbyxx]

HEY I WAS WONDER IF YOU COULD WRITE SOMETHING FLUFFY ABOUT HUNTER CONFESSING TO FEMALE Y/N AND THEY KISS?? EDA, LUZ, KING, GUS AND WILLOW WATCH HUNTER AS HE CONFESSES TO Y/N! Before Y/N could tell him how she feels about him too he apologize’s and says that that was a dumb idea and he runs away covering his face blushing. The next day Hunter tries to avoid Y/N for the whole day. Y/N decides to just go up to him when he’s all alone and finally tells him how she feels too and they kiss again!! WOOHOO!!

Hello! Thank you for your request! Here it is~

Tw: none

Contains: Fluff, adorable blushing, just a stuttering mess 

_____

Today was the day. Hunter stares at himself in the mirror, a little red with his own nerve.

“Okay..okay! You can do this, Hunter! Just..come up to her, and tell her how you feel. It won’t be hard! You used to be in the emperor’s coven, you used to battle criminals on the daily! What’s one confession to a really cool girl gonna do to your ego? Nothing, that’s what!” 

Even his lies don’t convince him. He sighs, running his hands through his hair. 

“Who am I kidding…Y/N isn’t just some cool girl…she’s the coolest! Ughh—”

Whatever. This day with everyone to the local county fair might give him some confidence. Hunter still had to get ready, after all. 

Yeah, he’s definitely not ready for this. 

_

It had been quite a day. Hunter definitely thought so. Willow and Gus ran off to go do a bet — ‘whoever pukes first before going through all the rides loses!’. Ew. And Luz and Amity went off to win some plushie for each other. Eda and King went around, scamming oblivious tourists. 

So now…he was alone. With Y/N. In a secluded spot behind the food court. They both sat together, quiet. 

Hunter glances over to Y/N. She was looking at the fireworks above, a soft smile on her features. He reddens, looking away. She was just so…pretty. How could he even start?

“Um..Y/N?”

“Yes, Hunter?” She looks over to him. The sounds of the fireworks seem to fade away when she locks eyes with him. Titan, he really was smitten. 

“I uh, have something to tell you.”

“Oh? Go ahead!” she grins. She looks at him curiously, fiddling with the hems of her dress. Hunter gulps. 

“So, you know how we’ve known each other for a while?”

“Mhm.”

“I, um, guess…I caught something in those years of knowing you.” He was just making himself suffer at this point, dragging the whole thing longer than it needed to be. Just say the words! 

Y/N continued to look at him with that awe-struck eyes. “And?” she asks gently, waiting patiently for his next string of words to come out. 

“...feelings. I..I caught feelings for you. Y-you’re just really, pretty, and really sweet, and you’re so cool, a-and..”

His face felt like it was on fire, red as a beet. Hunter stumbles on his words, while Y/N simply stares at him with those eyes, so alluring. Like she was waiting for him to get to the point.

He glances at her lips. A static shock goes against his heart, like it was trying to egg him on. 

“I..”

He leans closer. Y/N does the same. He could feel her breath on his lips, so close — it smelled like lavender, and a hint of cinnamon. From the pretzel she had eaten before, he thinks with a quiet chuckle. 

And without further ado, they lock lips. It was short, chaste, soft. It had been something Hunter found himself thinking about too much – how it would be lke to kiss her. And this..this was more than he could ever imagine. Something beyond his wildest dreams. 

He loved it. 

His heart gives a flutter before they breath apart. Suddenly shy, Y/N whispers, 

“What are you trying to say?”

“W-what I’m trying to say is—” And with that, Hunter knew he was fighting a losing battle— “NOTHING, I’M NOT SAYING ANYTHING! Y-YOU’RE CRAZY! SORRY THIS WAS A BAD IDEA. OKAY GOODBYE FOREVER.”

He stands up quickly, before running off, hiding his very red face in his hands, he looked like he was about to explode at that point. In his mind he’s firing off so many thoughts, all at once, still very flustered — oh, Titan, why did I say that, now she’s gonna hate me forever, I shouldn’t have said anything at all, and kissing her?! I’m so dead. 

Y/N was left to her own uncollected thoughts as everyone appeared from their hiding places. 

“I really thought he was gonna do it!” gasps Willow, as Gus lends her a handful of popcorn. “Jeez, he chickened out? Boo!” he adds. 

“Man, just when I thought he gathered up all his confidence,” Luz says with a shake of her head. 

“Poor Y/N, though, she’s utterly confused,” Amity says, pointing at Y/N. She seemed a little red herself, to be honest, still staring at Hunter’s fading figure. 

“He literally kissed her, what is it with you kids and your unnecessary drama?” Eda says, perhaps a little too loud. 

When Y/N turns around, everyone pops back into their hiding places.

“He…he likes me?” she says, reddening. Flustered. 

-THE NEXT DAY-

The blonde boy sighs. He had a lot on his mind. Too many thoughts clouding his rational thinking. He glances up at the wisteria tree above him. He liked the Hexside garden. A lot. It could clear his head. 

But not today. Not even the sweet scent of the wisteria could help him this time. 

“Skipping classes, are you?”

Hunter jolts at the voice — her voice — before looking her way. Y/N stands there, a soft, unreadable expression painted on her face. 

“How did you find me?” he asks first. 

She sits down beside him with a sigh. “Luz told me.”

“Of course she did..” he mutters to himself. 

It was quiet again. Neither knew what to say. When Hunter looks back at her, he realizes she was already looking at him. Surprised, he quickly glances away, cheeks red. 

“About last night…”

“Look, can we just…forget about what happened? I-I’m sorry, I made everything awkward between us–”

“No, no, not at all!” she smiles, touching his hand. “You…you put things into perspective with me, actually..”

“And? Wh…what do you think?” he was anxious, fidgeting and red. He didn’t know if he wanted to hear the next words that would escape Y/N’s lips or not. 

“I like you back, Hunter. How could I not? You’re so sweet, and very kind, and you’re stupidly adorable when you’re flustered.”

He blinks. 

What?

“..What?” He repeats the singular word in his mind. 

“I like you back, you big dork,” she repeats, grinning up at him, still red. “So, what do you say?”

“I..”

Another absentminded glance back to her lips, and Hunter gives in. The faint static of electricity blooms in his chest, the same one back at the fair…

And this time, she leans in. This time, she initiates the kiss. He didn’t think it possible to feel the fluttering in his heart again, not when it was so rare, but he did. He felt it. And suddenly he was a mess again, a stupid, dorky, awkward mess. He melts into the kiss, shutting his eyes. It was…perfect. This time, the kiss wasn’t too short, Hunter could focus on the different parts of it…how soft her lips were, probably from the chapstick she liked to use…lavender, that was it. That was why he tasted lavender…and the smell of the wisteria leaves seem to flutter and dance about the pair. 

When they both pulled apart, it was apparent Y/N herself was blushing. 

“I say..”

She waits for his response, with baited breath. 

“...that your chapstick tastes pretty good.”

She blinks, then laughs. Her laugh always was so angelic…Hunter, focus here! She giggles, slightly, still a little surprised but giddy at his joke. 

“Do you want the brand?” she teases. He rolls his eyes playfully, almost forgetting his nervousness. 

“Maybe I could try tasting it again? Uh, you know…just as a trial, to see if I wanna buy my own.”

“Be my guest.” 

They kiss again, under that wisteria tree. He was in pure bliss. Was this the feeling many spoke of? He finally understood. 

Under that wisteria tree, Hunter could see the secrets of the universe in her eyes, he could feel everything with her kiss. 

Under the wisteria tree. 

_____

Hope it wasn't too cringy lol. Thanks for your request again!!

[painsandconfusion]

LOVE you writing. your descriptions are always so visceral - how do you do that? do you have a slideshow tutorial? /hj

Buckle up because I take everything seriously and am procrastinating bar prep again. 

(tw for stabbing / blood / knife / gore because that's how I do)

Writing Vivid Descriptions 101

.

Let’s build up a description. We'll work on just one sentence and walk through what to pay attention to and how to make it come alive. Let’s start with something simple-

A stabbed B.

Neat. Fun. We always like a good stabbing - but just saying it doesn’t do much. We need a visual here. So.

A stabbed B in the stomach, and they started to bleed.

 Nice! We have a location now, as well as some color. A little bit of motion in the ‘bleeding’ aspect since gravity is a thing. I’m gonna push that a little further now and follow that movement...

A stabbed B in the stomach, and they started to bleed through their shirt and down their jeans.

Better. It’s more dynamic now.

But do you know what I like? Personification. Whenever humanly possible, I like to let the indirect and direct objects in the sentence become subject nouns. So instead of ‘they started to bleed’ - let's let the blood be its own thing. Remove ‘B’ from the equation entirely in that part of the sentence.

A stabbed B in the stomach, and blood bled through their shirt and down their jeans. 

Better - more dynamic yet. But let’s clean that up a bit so it’s not redundant. 

While I’m at it - let’s also add a smidgen of texture by swapping out for some more evocative verbs, nouns, and adding a couple adjectives in that half of the sentence.

A stabbed B in the stomach, and thick, oily crimson seeped through their shirt, bleeding down their jeans.

That’s already worlds better. And I didn't really do anything except toss in a couple adjectives.

But you know how we made ‘blood’ the subject noun before? Make it ‘do’ the bleeding instead of B? What if we’re keeping the attention focused on the threat? Not A - right now, the more frightening thing is the knife.

And we haven’t even mentioned the knife yet.

So let’s toss that in as a noun and let it carry some of the weight of the action. Let’s see the knife doing things and making the blood come…

A’s knife stabbed B in the stomach, dragging thick, oily crimson seeping through their shirt and bleeding down their jeans.

Dear goodness, do you see how much better that is compared to the starting sentence? 

Lovely.

Something fun about adding dynamics and layers of personification and visuals is that the sentence length also adds to pacing. It’s much easier to process something as visceral as a stabbing as you should when the sentence is just three words long. So, drag it out. Get in all those gorey little details.

Let’s add a couple more of those details to the first part - we've been just working on the second half of the sentence, let's catch the first up to speed. 

I’m gonna do the same thing as above with the personification angle, but tone it down a little - just bringing attention to B’s flesh instead of treating them as a whole unit. The more specific the description, the easier it is for your reader to hone in on that one body part - and hopefully - convince them just a liiiiiiiittle bit that they’re feeling that pain, too.

A’s knife ripped slowly through the soft flesh of B’s abdomen, dragging thick, oily crimson seeping through their shirt and bleeding down their jeans.

Alright. At this point, we’re doing pretty darn good.

I’d call it quits here for most things.

But.

If you wanna take it a step further and scrub in a little dissociation, you can also hide the subject noun (the knife or A in this case) and focus entirely on what this feels like. 

The best way I’ve found to do this is to show involuntary movement, sounds, and slightly ‘wrong’ descriptions. Like the blood being warm and wet instead of red. Their body moving backwards without them meaning to. The sound catching in their throat and what that feels like.

All the while, let’s keep those prior lessons going. Personify the nouns that are affecting your character and keep up the description work.

Let’s try it.

A whimper choked to a stop in B’s throat as the soft flesh of their abdomen ripped slowly open, dragging a thick, oily crimson seeping through their shirt and warming down their jeans.

See how I just recycled most of those words? At this point, we’re no longer seeing something happen to B, we’re living it with them.

I like the ‘whimper’ bit because sounds can give so much input on what your oc’s state of mind is - especially involuntary sounds. But they can also give a ton of context in very little space, letting you focus less on dialogue and more on the visceral moments that are gonna get you those sweet, sweet physical reactions to the text.

So let’s make the sound that they were making into a dialogue summary instead. 

The babbling, stuttering pleas choked to a stop in B’s throat as the soft flesh of their abdomen ripped slowly open, dragging thick, oily crimson seeping through their shirt and warming down their jeans.

Okay very fun very fun but. Like. The knife is still in there right? So be sure to make your next sentence about how they can feel it inside them - how they clutch onto A’s wrist to try to keep it still even as their own trembling legs beg them to buckle and drop.

You get the picture. Keep it rolling. Give nouns their own voices and actions. Let us feel the sensations. Let us see B's state of mind by the state of the world and their body.

Just build it up. 

Pay attention to sentence length. Depending on the cadence of your paragraph you’ll want longer and shorter sentences. Don’t get monotonous with it - read it aloud! See how it sounds. I’d probably chop this one in half at this point.

Something here isn’t quite working with my natural cadence, this sentence is getting to be a lot, and I really did like having the blood have its own voice, sooo……

The babbling, stuttering pleas choked to a stop in B’s throat as the soft flesh of their abdomen ripped slowly open. Thick, oily crimson dragged around the cool blade, soaking through their shirt and warming down their jeans.

There.

Much better. 

Much easier to digest and more dynamic as well.

I'd definitely add something like 'the world blurred around them' or 'the ground slipped sideways as they stumbled back, muscles trembling and convulsing around the cool blade' etc etc etc in the next sentence or two. Show how this description directly affects them.

I’ll stop there so I don't just end up writing a full scene, but really you can workshop this for…forever? Find what descriptions suit you, get a list of visceral adjectives and sensation-driven verbs, then use the shit out of them. I believe in you all. Have fun!

[greentrickster]

Oh! Oh, Yue Qingyuan has a qi deviation thanks to not quite knowing how to handle the energies of a female body properly (note: this isn’t a ‘haha, man turns into woman and discovers how hard a female body can be to deal with’ situation, it’s a ‘this man has been holding on by his fingernails for forty years and sprinting towards his breaking point since Tianlang-jun got dug up and this was one detail to keep track of too many’).

Fortunately (for a given value of fortunately), it’s not one that has him baying for blood or on death’s door or anything, it’s a relatively mild one that just leaves him feverish and a bit delirious, with Tianlang-jun swearing and doing his best to replicate the meridian-cleansing YQY has been doing for him with that big ol’ well of spiritual energy his plant body has to make sure this idiot doesn’t die on him or anything. Because everyone would probably blame him and also he hasn’t even fixed the guy enough yet to get his revenge via petty bullying yet. This man is getting such an earful when he’s lucid enough to understand it!

Except when YQY does finally wake up enough to get complained at, he’s still not fully in his right mind or aware of his surroundings.

Oh, and he’s absolutely convinced that Tianlang-jun is Luo Binghe, in spite of the fact that Tianlang-jun is currently woman-shaped.

Tianlang-jun: About time you woke up! You know what I-!

YQY: (dazed) You?

Tianlang-jun: Yes, me! Now-

YQY: Why are you helping me?

Tianlang-jun: What?

YQY: Why are you helping me? It’d be better for you if I was dead.

Tianlang-jun: (mental gears grinding because um, what now, it’s been pretty established at this point in the forced-bonding exercise that they both need each other very very much if they’re going to survive this...?) ...what?

YQY: (curling up on himself a bit) We both know it’s true. You know I love him, and he hasn’t noticed he’s in love with you yet. I’m just another obstacle to get through. Even though he doesn’t remember why I call him ‘Shen Jiu.’ Even though he doesn’t remember that he hates that name and hates me calling him by it and hates me. He doesn’t even remember that I love him, or why he should hate me, he doesn’t remember-!!! (starts crying, not big and noisy or showy, just soft and quiet and utterly heartbroken)

Tianlang-jun: ...

Tianlang-jun: (So, on the one hand, he’s emotionally vulnerable, doesn’t realize who he’s talking to, and in no mental state to consent to doing or saying anything)

Tianlang-jun: (On the other hand, juicy sect gossip about the sect leader, that guy my son’s in love with, and probably my son)

Tianlang-jun: (in his best Binghe impression) Please explain, Sect Boss Yue, perhaps this shizhi can help.

On the one hand, it works! Tianlang-jun is the first person to ever hear the full story of Yue Qi and Shen Jiu’s shared history! Getting all this out there even helps calm these long-time heart-demons enough to get him out of qi deviation and to sleep - success!

On the other hand, it works! And Tianlang-jun gets to stare at the surrounding forest for the rest of the night processing the experience of, “Damn, you live like this bro?!” mixed with “That’s so tragic and romantic, someone should write a play about this!” along with a healthy dose of, “What the hell am I supposed to do with this information? You know, besides tell him to tell that idiot he’s in love with when we get back to the sect. And maybe force him to do it. Purely because this is the main issue this man has and if I can fix this then I can finally start getting him to respond to my teasing properly, and not at all because I relate to this situation in any way, shape, or form and miscommunication tragedies have kinda lost their appeal to me since I discovered everything bad in my live for the past twenty years has been the result of one. I don’t like him or feel sorry for him. I don’t.”

[softguarnere]

listen . i cannot stop thinking about Speirs referring to his wife as “my fair lady” because of Fierce Valor and . Anything with soft! Speirs / maybe even post-war sweetness with Ron like I need it and you just write soft!Speirs so well ..

Anywhere You Go (Let Me Go Too)

Ron Speirs x reader

A/N: Lex, the way I am sitting here smiling and blushing 😭🙈 I am so obsessed with the way that you write Speirs, so you saying that I write soft!Speirs well is pretty much the ultimate compliment 💖 Thank you for trusting me to write this, and I hope you like it 💕🕊️ (As usual, this is written for the fictional depiction from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!)

Warnings: mentions of war, alcohol, and of blood

Casual is not a word that anyone would use to describe Ronald Speirs. Cold is the more likely word choice of those who have only worked with him, or caught whispers of the rumors that trail behind him. Careful would probably be the most accurate word. Everything that he does is deliberate. If life is a game of checkers, then Ron is playing chess, because he always seems to be at least two steps ahead of everyone else, like he has considered every possibility and is already planning his next move.

But this, you think to yourself as you watch him come into the room, is probably as close to casual as he can get.

And that's because he's a little bit drunk.

Ron had entered the room slowly, and now that the door is shut, he stands facing it, leaning against it with a sigh. Then he turns to you with a smile on his face that makes you wonder how anyone could think that any of the rumors about him could possibly be true. Especially now, when he comes over to the bed and flops down onto his stomach, looking up at you with wide eyes and a goofy grin.

"Good evening," he says with a curt nod. He obviously seems to think that he's being serious, but it makes you laugh.

"To you as well." You scoot over a bit from where you have been sitting to make more room for him, but he seems content to stay where he is - half on the bed, and half off. He hums when you reach out and run a hand through his hair, sinking into the bed and your touch. "I thought you didn't drink?"

He huffs - maybe a laugh, maybe a sigh. "The other officers convinced me to have some. To celebrate."

"Nixon?"

". . . Harry and Lip were drinking, too."

"Ah." You click your tongue. "Peer pressure."

This time there's no mistaking the laugh that bubbles up from deep within his chest. He rolls onto his side so that he can look at you better. Reaching up, he holds out his hand, and you take it, even though you have to stop carding your hands through his hair.

"I made up my mind though."

"Oh? About what?"

"After the war." He squeezes your hand. His brows furrow slightly as he thinks. "It's over now. Everyone keeps talking about what they want to do, where they're going and I -" He cuts himself off.

You squeeze his hand. What?

It's no secret that he's been conflicted. He had been planning to jump into the Pacific with Easy because they needed a leader. But now that the Japanese have surrendered . . . Winters and Nixon are going to New Jersey, Welsh is going to marry Kitty, and Ron . . .

"I don't know yet," you had told him when the news had reached Austria. "I just know that I'm done being a combat medic. Whatever comes after this . . . If I never bandage another wound again, it will be too soon."

"I don't know yet, either," Ron had said, squinting out across the sunny baseball field, watching the men and weighing his options.

Now though, drunk and trying to be sincere, he seems to have made up his mind.

"I just want to go wherever you go," he says.

Blood pumps in your ears as your heart starts to race. Did you hear him correctly? Is this because he's drunk?

Before you can order your thoughts Ron is pushing himself up so that he's sitting across from you. A pink hue has settled across his cheeks, like rosy clouds streaked across the sky at sunset; it might be from the warmth of the alcohol he has consumed, it might be because of the tender moment, or it might be both.

Now your heart is really racing. "What do you mean?" You ask over its roar.

Ron nods. "I mean that if it's what you want, I would like to be with you after the war. Wherever that might take us."

"Of course I want that." Is it even a question? "Do you?"

Ron smiles. In combat, he looks like a figure drawn with sharp edges and filled in with muted colors. But here - he looks so soft, and the colors are so warm and bright. If everyone else could see him like this . . . Ron would never let that happen, though. He has a reputation to uphold. Moments like these, glimpses of a softer man, are just for you.

"Wherever you want to go (Y/N)," Ron repeats. "Your hometown. Boston. Somewhere new. I can get my old job back. We'll have money." It sends a shiver down your spine when he promises, "I'll take care of you."

It's no secret that Ron does well in combat - like he's made for it - and that he enjoys aspects of it and the way that they give him a rush. But he is also a frank man who despises lying and always speaks his mind; he wouldn't be telling you this if he didn't mean it.

You reach out and caress his face. It's warm, and a little bit of stubble pricks your palm. He leans into it. "If you're sure. Then yes; I would go anywhere with you."

He averts his eyes quickly, his face growing warmer under your touch. Yes, you confirm, he's definitely a little drunk.

He reaches into his pocket and removes something, then holds out his hand to you. When you remove your hand from his face and place it on his palm, he slides a glittering bracelet over your wrist. "I thought of you when I saw this."

This whole war you have seen each other covered in blood and grime and uniforms - yet he thought of you when he saw something so beautiful.

"It's gorgeous." You hold your wrist up to the light to admire how it sparkles. "Thank you."

His smile grows wider. "Anything for my fair lady." He flops back down onto the bed, maneuvering himself so that his head is in your lap. He lets out a contented hum when you resume carding your hands through his hair. "So, where should we go first?"

"Well, we've already toured Europe," You note. "Why not just head to the States and see if we can catch a bit of rest before the next adventure?"

He nods, and it sends a thrill through your chest to think that this is real - you are together and this is happening.

"Lets go home," he agrees.

This - being here, with him - already feels like home, but you nod, knowing that home will be anywhere you go with your dashing gentleman.

[fizzingwizard]

one other leeeeeetle thing about melody of moominvalley...

I had anticipated, from the promos and playing the demo, that it was going to be kind of a soft, slow game. I knew there was some plot involving Moomintroll being missing. But I had fully convinced myself that it would be impossible to do anything about that until the very end of the game. Reason being, if I could save him sooner - well, why wouldn't I hurry and do it? And if I hurry, it would be difficult to enjoy the softness and slowness of the gameplay, right?

Well, that's what I found in the end. There was lovely art and music and fun things to do everywhere, and I wanted to stop and enjoy it. But each time I learned something new about Moomintroll, I felt led to continue on that quest. The moment after freeing him from jail when you're giving a choice, either to continue to the dam or say "I have to finish a few things up first" (or whatever) in order to put it off really doesn't feel like much of a choice. Because how on earth are you going to tell your friend who wound up in jail trying to get rid of that damn dam that you're too busy looking at pretty flowers to help right now, but if he twiddles his thumbs for a bit you'll get to him when you can? lol

however please note this is not a complaint. i am just very opinionated all the time about everything. and compelled to write about my feelings like a twelve year old in the 80s with a sticker-covered composition notebook for a diary. i love the game, its awesomeness supersedes what little i don't like or just wish was different

I will be much more cold toward Moomintroll on my second play so I can enjoy the other parts of the game. Sorry, Moomin, you can rot in jail for all I care. I'm sure the nice Hemulen lady will bring you cookies while you wait.