#i love how her reflection still has the chicken legs...

[erinelizabethh]

Time Slip | Chai x Reader (7/10)

Summary: Chai, ambassador of Vandelay Technologies, certainly has his ways of communication. You, living in the suburbs outside the campus, don't even have a cell phone. You know what they say about relationships…

Chapter One: Time Slip

Chapter Two: #E67451

Chapter Three: Daisies

Chapter Four: Sweet Dreams

Chapter Five: Synesthesia

Chapter Six: On Mercury

Chapter Seven: One of These Nights

*slight sexual content ahead*

It’s nothing. It’s whatever.

So you thought to yourself: are you reading this correctly? Your thoughts were of the utmost importance, so much that you left behind the comfort of your blankets and onto the floor where your thoughts could remain better situated. With a squint, as the bright screen of your cell reflected the lack of illumination in your apartment, the rather rude message was but an inch from your irises. The bubbles are prolonged, enlightened by your lack of response, and the meaning causes you to seethe. “What does that even mean?” You ask nobody, looseleaf paper torn from your notebook crumpled up inside your fist as the words sitting at the tip of your pen disappear with the distance between you and your pen pal. With the point of contact on an errand, as a result of your pleas that fast food chicken nuggets sound delicious at two o’clock in the morning, the context and tone of that message is lost to you. You hope it buries itself into the heart of the man who should rethink what he says, and perhaps unsend.

Whatever? You type. Do you think I’m stupid?

You pause. Stupid.

The pen, however, is mightier than any name you can call him at this point. Can you believe that? I feel when a guy says it’s nothing it’s really, like, everything. He’s being so weird about it. I mean he is the first guy I’ve dated with a robotic arm so that’s something but he doesn’t talk about it. His friends are all weird about it too… it’s like it’s some forbidden topic that gets him fucked up. Sorry. For ‘cussing’. Again. Anyway, he’s twenty-six years old and I’m sure we’re grown enough to talk about our pasts like adults. Like, if he came back right now, I’d definitely tell him all about my past boyfriends and… no I won’t actually. I will not do that. That’s embarrassing. Especially because I perhaps may have told him I wanted to be left alone so go me. I make smart decisions.

You were pushing the subject again, like Peppermint warned you not to, through text no less. You could not help your eyes lingering on the scars that burdened Chai’s back when he pried himself from your arms, his shoulders stiff with prior events. He relished in your return when your fingertips traced the delicates of his upper back, your lips pressed against a beauty mark that freckled him with love. As your forehead fell against him, his hand grasped at yours pressed against his chest; with a twirl of your arm and the dip of your body against his, he pecked your lips before a cheeky: “Babe I’d so serenade you if it wasn’t for those delicious cheeseburgers calling for me.” His feline friend, once curled up in a ball atop her cat tower, zoomed to the front door upon the aspect of leaving on an adventure. When Chai pulled you to your feet, one swipe of his nose against yours and he was no longer facing you, his back once again on display as he shot finger guns at a cat standing on her hind legs to return the favor.

Cute. You were still a dog person, though.

“Baby where’s my—” He threw a glance over his shoulder, his head falling to his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “Are you on your… y’know…”

You cry out in frustration, your fists clenched. Of course he shrugs you off, choosing to hide the identity of the Chai before he became one of the faces of Vandelay Technologies. Of course he doesn’t trust you enough to recall those events, how tragic they must have been because why would he tell you? After all, you’re just some girl he must be on the brink of moving on from… you’re overthinking again. A nasty habit of yours, you think, considering his clothes are thrown beside your underwear and the pillow beside yours is fluffed in a way that refuses you sleep. His guitar leans against the cushion of your loveseat, once strummed with picks that litter your end table and douse it with color. That guitar sits beside a scarf that 808 loves to rest her paws on when she grows tired of the toy mice that are spread out all over your rug. However, you’re just some girl whose space he happens to share with, someone of whom you believe to be insignificant, boring, and out of time. With a shake of your head, your hands trail down and stretch at the skin of your cheeks, loathing at the eleven months with him that border on the best eleven months of your life. You can’t help but groan with mist in your eyes, body deflating as you subject yourself to inhales through your nostrils that are ragged and stuffed with impending sniffles.

Your phone chimes. Oi. Korsica. I need flowers.

Pepper. Mint. Peppermint.

Peps.

Wtf do I get her? Korsica unsent a message. Ask Chai please. 

You sigh, your response slow and steady, incorrect letters in between. You return to your side of your bed, the cool air a blanket over the array of knit sunflowers you sit on. The peonies beyond the crack of your window sway to your right, cars with the Vandelay logo driving at a speed beyond the limit to disturb an otherwise mundane night. Those headlights are blinding, illuminating the suncatcher that hangs above your head and paints the moon and the stars all over your skin. They flicker like following a person’s footsteps, and one car halts in front of your building with a bass that hums and rattles your bones. The neon glows along the lines of the vehicle, fading in and out to different colors, the person inside dumbfounded upon the wrong turn toward the suburbs. 

Your peace is disturbed by a, “I’m not stupid, I’m a dumbass!” Chai slams the door open to your apartment, no chicken nuggets or cat in sight. His breaths are a struggle for air, but he begins the revelation with a hurried, “I killed Kale Vandelay who, plot twist, was Peppermint’s brother! And— and I have this cool implant in my chest that makes everything sync to me ‘cause of this thing—I dunno if you know Project Armstrong—but the guy threw my music player and it got stamped to my chest or… or something and so I got this really cool arm ‘cause fun fact I actually did not have any feeling in this arm right here before and so I ended up having to kill all of these crazy bosses ‘cause it turns out Kale actually used this weird AI thing to take over bodies and that’s where Roxanne—”

“What? Chai, wha— what are you even talking about?”

His body shakes as the distance between you decreases, and you eye the trembling of his hands as they brush against your face. Chai’s breathing is ragged like yours was, and he then clutches his chest as if alluding to his sprint back home to you. He huffs and puffs out pleas that you hold on just one second, just let him get it together, and in that one second he raises one finger to confirm that yes, indeed, he’ll be but a second. He radiates the heat you’ve missed in the time he was away, despite the chill that floods his lungs, and your fingertips itch to be linked with his once more.

So he goes on, your question above your heads like vapor, sputtering out the facts of people you only heard in passing conversations and observed on billboards tainting your small town. Chai holds up fingers as if counting down the obstacles: the head of production, the head of research and development, Korsica, the head of marketing, the head of finance, the head head… the name that sticks out the most beside of the known redhead’s is Mimosa’s, whose face is plastered on every bus and train you step on. Her luscious, blonde locks were the standard years ago, so evident that customers in your flower shop would share the hairstyle despite blonde not at all being their color. You can’t dwell on that thought for long, for he chronicles his battles as if he were the protagonist of some role-playing game, taking hits and dealing with them along with the beat to his own drum. He was the star of the show, the main character of a daydream, and you owned a flower shop and wailed off-key and off-beat in the shower. It was only a matter of time before he thought you too boring, too mundane, and walked away toward a life that was certainly more exhilarating.

Chai cups your cheeks in his hands when you shake your head. The thought of him leaving you behind terrifies you. His thumbs traced the line of tears that fell before tapping at your lips with an implied shush. “Lemme finish! Anyway I had to fight like a crazy amount of robots ‘cause Kale took ‘em over along with the others and yeah, I almost died but I beat him and I saved everyone and you’re right. You’re right! It’s not nothing, it’s not whatever, it’s something that I want you to know about me ‘cause I wanna know everything about you ‘cause I kinda’ love you… scratch that, forget what I said.”

“I love you.”

He blinks, flexing the cool metallic of his fingers. “Also I have this super awesome weapon. We can take the bad boy for a test drive if you want…”

Your gaze passes by the rise and fall of his chest, by the dust of pink across his cheeks. When they align with his own, you bear witness to a truth that can’t be rescinded. His laugh trails off into racing thoughts, judging by the way he commits to eyeing at your rug. The chestnut hues of his irises are dimmed by the shadow of your ceiling, the sunrise edging past the lower half of his body with the minutes that pass with no words being shared. He tests the silence with: “Wow. I, uh… the cat’s out of the bag, huh?” He cages you between him and daybreak, the repeating silence evident with the words said, deafening with the implications; he loves you, so that must mean he can’t imagine a life without you. 

What does it mean?

“Chai, c’mon… you kidding me?” You sniff, unable to resist the trembles that wrack your body, unable to refrain from the attempts to push him away. His grip on you is unwavering, however. “What is wrong with you?”

“N-N-No, you’re supposed to laugh at me, not cry! Maybe tell me you love me too? You love me, right? Ya’ gotta tell me you’re feeling some way about me.” Your name follows. “Baby, please. You feel the same way… right?”

You nod, and the first declaration of love out of you is but a whisper, said again once your confidence grows. “Yes, Chai, I love you.”

He surges forward to press his lips against yours, breaths leaving his nose in slow, deep exhales. Your left cheek is chill with the remnants of morning dew on his cool, metal fingertips but his mouth is warm over yours and you’re swallowed whole. His strength cranes your neck back, longing to envelop you with lips that search for every part of yours in desperation, and you surrender yourself to him even when the breaths are so far in between. The taste of salt remains on your tongue, but Chai exhibits his love next by nipping at your tastebuds and wrapping his arms around you to pull you further into his embrace. Your chest pressed against his, your tongues interlock in a hypnotizing dance; the hum that escapes you elicits one from your lover.

He pulls his lips an inch from yours, low huffs gliding across your cupid’s bow. Your hands fall to his sides, sliding up his shirt, bunched up white cotton rolled up into your fist. His hands mimic your movements all over your lower back, and his voice lowers to a tone unheard of him. When he tells you how hard it is to breathe, yet how much he can’t stop kissing you, what leaves you is a pathetic whimper. The feeling is mutual but you have no complaints. Your lips are dry with his scrutiny, quivering as he brushes his against yours like a feather grazing your skin. What fogs your brain is the thought of his shirt over his head and messing with tufts of brown hair you will ruin later anyway.

“Y-You, uh— umm—”

You’re breathless when you confirm, and you all but give into him when he hurries you into the entanglement of your body against his.

That took pretty long, but I think you’ll be stoked to hear I finally told him I love him. I sent you two letters to chronicle the night I had so, like, I hope you read that other one first. It was a great night. We’re just gonna leave it at that. Anyway, you’ve said before you know him from somewhere right? He’s, like, the ambassador for Vandelay Technologies. Isn’t that crazy? They’ve only started putting him up everywhere, though, so I guess the switchover happened recently. I kinda don’t get how I won him over; I guess it was my anxiety of being alone and the scent of my flowers. Regardless, I feel as if I understand him so much better now. It’s nice. I hope he stays with me. I hope his friends like me. I hope one day you can come by and we can really meet and you can meet him too. You’d probably like him, Rekka.

Reply soon! So much is happening and I need someone to talk to!! 

P.S. I got a phone now. Please give me your number.

[mossyscavern]

Love… what a strange thing...

__________________

Miles knows a little thing or two about strange… but love?

You’ve completely lost him. He has watched many telenovelas with his mami to know what it does, but he doesn’t really know about the subject itself…

He has daydreamed about it though, he actually asked his mama how her and his dad met. It was surprisingly romantic on his dad’s part.

Yet he’s still unsure about how love is more strange the it is, he’s sure that Pavitr would help since he’s with gayatri and has undoubtedly loved her…

But recently he got invited to their dates. And now he’s with Pavitr and gayatri on their lunch date he’s invited to.

Miles thought that they invited him to take notes, given how he’s invited often. He’d live with that, if Pav hadn’t told miles not to worry about the notes.

He felt he’s sort of… third wheeling, though they helped with his art project, went shopping, had some chai t-.. chai with them… he still felt like a third wheel… he just feels bad for hanging around while they’re dating.

Which was one of the reasons why he suggested a picnic. A simple Picnic with homemade foods. So when he asks, he opens a portal and leave them be.

“Ok, I’ve brought my dad’s Tandoori Chicken, what about you guys?” She asked, looking at the two. “I’ve got maya auntie’s famous samosas and some chamomile chai!” Pav proudly says, revealing the pyramid pastry and drink.

“It all looks so good.” Miles says, his mouth watering at the sight of two dishes each beside him. “Tastes good too, what’d you bring?”

Gayatri asked, placing her dish on the checkered picnic blanket while Pav did the same. “Only mi mami’s famous asopao de pollo, wanna try?” He asked, watching the two nod enthusiastically and in sync.

After each Indian took a spoon full their eyes lit up with huge smiles. “It tastes amazing!” Pav says swallowing the food and smiling the widest he can. “Your mom rocks!” Gayatri told him after she swallowed hers.

He smiled sheepishly at the compliment. “Thanks… can I ask you two something?” Miles asked, putting the lid back on and placing the food down. “Is something wrong?” Pav asked, looking worried about miles.

“If it’s too much we can do something else-.” “No! No, no this is all great, just… why me?” Miles asked, pausing a bit to reflect the past dates.

Both Indian’s made sure he’s is included, it made him feel more... whole. “Sorry? I don’t-” before Pav could say a thing miles held up a hand and said.

“I-I just… don’t want to ruin more of your dates by third wheeling..” He says, turning away from them. “I-i... I don’t-.” He stopped, looking down at the blanket his fists curled against each of his pant leg.

... he felt really hurt that he had to say all of that.

Thinking about it now? He didn’t want it all to end, it was the most fun he had ever since he became spider-man, but he didn’t want to intrude on any of Pav and gayatri’s future dates… even if he didn’t have anything else to do.

“… I thought we made it clear.” Gayatri says all of a sudden. “Guess not.” Pavitr says too. That made miles look up between them in confusion as the two sat next to him on either side.

“Miles, there’s a big reason why we invited you.” Pavitr starts, biting his lip softly in nervousness as the Afro-latino turned to look towards gayatri. “We thought you’d finally get it after our 9th… but guess not.”

She says, shrugging her shoulders and sighing. “Point is… it’s yours too.” She told him. Miles eyes widened and turned to Pav, who in turn nodded. “Each date, is your date.”

He says softly. Miles blinked, looked down, shook his head. “Uh-… aren’t I your friend tho-.” He was about to say before getting cut of by Pav kissing his lips.

The action made him squeak, then melt at the affection. When Pavitr and him parted he’s awestruck when he spoke. “… entiendo ahora.” He said goofily.

Making Pav chuckle. “My turn!” Gayatri says, kissing miles on the lips as well, making miles tumble backwards. “Gaya! Save some for me.” Pavitr joked, making the two laugh and later Pav joined in.

When things calmed down and both gayatri and Pavitr had their kisses each from miles the three sighed. “Thanks for clearing this up and opening my eyes.”

Miles paused, making both gayatri and Pav’s eyes land on him and smile at his acceptance. “Our picnic is getting cold tho.” He reminded, grabbing his mami’s asopao de pollo and served them each of their portions.

Gayatri and Pavitr did the same with their share. “How many samosas do you both want?” Pavitr asked, “how many is there?” Gayatri counter asked.

“There’s 12, so I’ll serve us four each.” Pav answered. Putting each on one plate.

Nothing is more perfect than having a picnic with your loved ones while watching the sun set all over mumbatten…

__________________

Ok, this is a little more longer than my usual stories…

Damn, well… this is another chaiflower thing with gayatri, probably gonna also tag is as chaimodelflower… maybe I-i dunno. It’s uh.. something for @vulnonapixs-marvel-corner but I… only did the top bit of their thing they posted on the 3rd of march… I should’ve asked first…

It’s a bit rushed and uh, hope it’s not confusing to anyone who reads it…

… anyway I gottagobye!

[bratshaws]

goodness gracious 11. brb x oc

( i mean look at those lips. sir how dare you. )

a/n: hello today we are going to talk about how Rooster has better lips than me . *starts slideshow*

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: mentions of emotional abuse ( its not a lot but im writing it just to be safe <3 ) a hint of suggestive content. We are getting closer to the spice guys, i promise.

chapters:

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!)

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj

-

‘I’ll be waiting’ how smooth was that? How very confident was that phrase? That was the plus of sending a text message instead of calling or doing video chat, it hid how absolutely fucking freaked out you’d be.

Bradley, once he got her message, took a few seconds to reply only because he was digesting the fact she wanted the two to have lunch together, but she wanted to cook. He only had her sandwiches, but he knew from Shells that Bea was a great cook, so he couldn’t help but be excited about the proposition, not even thinking when he sent her his address.

Then he remembered, just after he sent her the message, that he lived alone and his apartment was less than organized. He wasn’t a slob, his mother raised him right, but he rarely spent more time than the weekends here and when he did he just passed out on his bed wearing nothing but his boxers.

 Which were currently his choice of clothing right now, the ones with tiny chickens on it - the lovely gag gift his friends gave him for his late birthday celebration -. He looked down at himself, cursed and tossed the phone to the side.

He had to change. Bradley rushed through his apartment, grabbing any type of tossed clothing and throwing it into his closet, kicking the door shut while he grabbed himself a pair of gray sweatpants and a white tee. Dressing up while standing should be considered a danger to society, because Bradley almost fell to his face while dragging his pants up his legs, having to lean himself against the wall to tie it up.

He then almost shoved his head through the sleeve hole, cursing and trying again, breathing out in relief when his head popped out of the collar. He ran his hands down the fabric, smoothing it before he checked his reflection on his bathroom’s mirror, running his hands through his hair to comb it down to the sandy waves he’d usually have.

Bradley fixed his bed, then checked the ensuite and guest bathrooms, before going to the living room where he took the mug he drank his coffee that morning to the kitchen sink, washing it quickly to place it back inside a cabinet. He inhaled, rubbing his hands down his pants, “Okay, it’s good.” he whispered, then checked his fridge to see if he had anything she could possibly use if she so wanted, sighing in relief when he saw it was still quite full of fresh veggies and meat.

His doorbell rang and he quickly rushed to the speaker button so he could talk to who was on the other side, “Bea?”

“Yea! It’s me. Can I come up?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Come on right up.” he walked back from the doorbell speaker, waiting until he heard the knock on the door. He eased his step, trying to not yank the door open, choosing to slowly unlock it, revealing her sweet face behind the door. She smiles brilliantly at him,holding white plastic bags with both hands.

“Hi,” she says, tilting her head up when he leans closer to peck her lips, “Sorry for the sudden message, I–”

“It’s okay,” he steps back, sweeping his hand into his apartment, “Do come in.”

He shuts the door behind her, watching her head turn left and right as she takes in his apartment. He panics for a brief second, thinking he left something behind, his eyes moving everywhere again just to check, but when she places her bag on the coffee table between his couch and the tv, she’s smiling, “I like your apartment.” she grins, “It’s very nice.”

It was a big apartment, perhaps too big for only him to live alone, but it was good enough if you were too tired. He watched her approach the piano on the corner of the living room, right next to his bookcase, running her fingers over the keys - a bit yellowed over time, it wasn’t a brand new piano after all - before she tilted her head to the picture of young Bradley being held by his father. Her gaze softened at the vision of little young, blonde Bradley, wearing a cowboy hat bigger than his own head.

She smiled sweetly, seeing how Bradley was the spitting image of his father, “You look a lot like him,” she comments, seeing the two had the same brighter than the sun smile. Bradley gets closer to her, he too looks at the picture with his jaw clenched just a bit.

“You think so?” he questions quietly, almost he is unsure of it himself, but Bea sends him a smile, then cups his cheek and he almost leans onto it. Her thumb gently brushes over his lips, over his mustache and she nods. He chuckles, kissing the pad of her thumb before he grabs the bags she’s holding, “So,you are cooking us lunch?”

“I am!” she smiles, following him to his kitchen, letting out a quiet woah at how large it was. It even had a marble top island in the middle with hanging lamps! She runs her hand over the sleek surface, then pulls back when she hears him placing the items on the kitchen counter  “I thought it’d be nice.”

“I can’t say I’m opposed to it,” he opens the bags, peeking inside, “What did you have planned?”

“Well,” she grabs the one he’s not messing with, pulling out the ingredients, “I was thinking about making something my nonna loved to make for Sunday lunches. It was tradition to go to her house every Sunday morning after church just so she could cook for us…so,” she pulls out a packet, “I thought it’d be interesting if I made us her spaghetti all'amatriciana.” she looks down at the fresh pasta packet in her hands, “Usually, she’d make these by hand but…I found a place close by that makes these fresh.”

Bradley looks down at the packet of spaghetti, the strips dusted with a fine layer of flour, “Sounds nice…what’s it called again?”

“Spaghetti all’amatriciana. It doesn’t take too long.” she smiled when his lips moved, repeating the word under his breath, “You can help me out, if you want to.”

“Oh? Won’t your nonna come haunt me if I mess up?” he teases, but stands close to her as she sets everything in front of her. Beatrice pauses, her eyelids lowering as she smiles, then turns to look at him with her gaze unreadable.

“She’d say you are a bel ragazzo and that she wouldn’t mind if you messed up.” he blinks, not sure of what the word meant, “Handsome boy, she’d call you a handsome boy.” Bradley breathes out an embarrassed laugh and his tanned cheeks turn darker, going back on setting the ingredients around them. There’s something with sugar inside a box that she asks him to put it inside the fridge while she gets everything set, which he does, lifting the lid just enough to see it was cream filled.

Thankfully his friends gave him a house warming gift, even if he didn’t used, of pots and pans and other kitchen utensils, or else he’d he fucked. Beatrice pulled her hair up on a bun, tightening it with a hairband she kept on her wrist as she helped him. He knew how to dice onions and crush garlic, he’s helped his mom cook before, so he was very proud of himself when Beatrice complimented him. 

She hummed to herself while cooking, some song he couldn’t identify, but she was smiling as she did it. He watched it with a small smile himself, rubbing his face with a hand only to turn around to get plates for them to eat, trying to keep himself busy. 

The smell was incredible. He ate Italian food quite often, even dared to cook some himself, but never had his own cooking smelled that good before, “Okay!” she chirps, “It’s done!” she grins, picking the pot to bring to the middle of the island. 

Bradley let her serve them both, about to sit down, but then he snapped his fingers, “Hold on,” he rushed the wine rack he had in the corner of the kitchen, hovering his hand above the bottles until he got the one with the red covering. He opened the cabinet above his head, picking two wine glasses, smiling towards the brunette, “Now it’s better.”

Beatrice’s lips parted in surprise, her cheeks reddening, tucking the skirt of her dress underneath herself as she seated on the stool. She interlaced her fingers in front of her mouth, trying to cover her smile as he popped the cork off, pouring them both the red wine. He slid the bottle to the side, sat himself down and raised his glass, “How do you say cheers in Italian?”

“Saluti.” she whispers, lifting her own glass.

“Saluti, then.” their glasses clink and each took a sip. She hummed in surprise, smacking her lips at the taste. This was good wine.

“This is really good.” she reached over to the bottle, checking the label while pushing her glass to the side.

“Mav got it for me,” he says, “Peace offering, I think he said.” he shrugs, fixing himself on his seat after he was done drinking, about to dig into the pasta but pausing, looking up at her, “Do I need a spoon?”

“If you want,” she shrugs, twirling her own spaghetti without the spoon, “I don’t like it because of the noise the fork makes when it scratches the spoon, “ her body visibly shudders and she shakes her head as if to get rid of the imagery.  “But it’s not necessary.”

Bradley thought about it, his stomach begging for him to just eat, so he decided to do it without the spoon. He twirled the spaghetti on his fork, not seeing Beatrice trying so hard to not pay attention to his reaction but failing, slowing her own chewing down with how tense she was.

It took him just a second for his eyes to close and him to support his forehead on the back of his hand, much like he did back on Mr.Spoons, and sigh deeply, “Jesus fuck, this tastes so good.”

“You like it?” she asked, her eyes and smile bright, “Really?”

He’s still chewing when he nods, but he’s way too happy to speak, so he takes another bite once he swallows the first. He closes his eyes, holding his fork holding hand up to his mouth, ‘You know what this tastes like?” He moves his hand for emphasis, trying to find the word, “Like those fancy Italian restaurant dishes that are worth more than half of your monthly income.”

She laughs, “Shut up, you are exaggerating.”

“I’m not! I’m serious! It’s probably the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” he gestures to his plate, “Look at this! Bea, this is just incredible.”

Her cheeks turn red and she looks down at her hands, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. She’s about to explode from happiness, just knowing he enjoyed her cooking - especially a recipe her nonna used to make several times over the years - just made her feel like she was on cloud nine. She chewed her own bite then took another sip of the wine, enjoying how it warmed her all over, mixing with the warmth of her own cheeks.

“This sauce is so good.” he mutters, slurping a long noodle. She couldn’t help but giggle against her glass, suddenly remembering something that piques his curiosity, “What’s funny?”

Her cheeks were flushed a bit and not because of her shyness, the wine was starting to get to her. It wasn’t like the time she passed out at the barbecue, she was just happy and a bit more open with her words “Just remembered a quote from the Golden Girls.” she smiles, “If this sauce was a person I’d get naked and make love to it.” 

Clearly Beatrice wanted to be funny, just an innocent comment about a show she adored. 

But unfortunately, Bradley was just a man.

 With a very sweet and attractive girlfriend who had no idea of how nice she looked with her light colored summer dress that exposed her shoulders and collarbones. He didn’t want to push her to do anything,even if it’s been a few weeks of them dating, the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

He chose to drink his own wine before anything unwanted came out of his mouth, licking his lips once he swallowed it. She didn’t seem to notice the lack of reply, just continued eating her own plate in silence. Besides the words that made his brain turn on high alert, the lunch was incredibly nice.

It was delicious and he complimented her one more time while they finished. Once their lunch was done with, she went to pick the plates but he got them before she could do it, telling her she was a guest and to not worry her pretty little head because he’d wash them. She smiled, following him walk around the kitchen, her eyes focusing on how his white tee clung to his back muscles. Muscles that moved when he set the things down into the sink.

Much like Bradley, she also was just a woman who liked admiring the body of her boyfriend. The same one she pined for months. She blinked when he noticed him looking over his shoulder, his cheek flexed as he smirked, clearly happy he caught her staring, “I-I’ll, um!” she looked around, then quickly grabbed the wine bottle and glasses “I’ll take this to the living room!”

She spun out of the kitchen quickly, rushing over to sit herself down on his couch. Beige colored, suede, super soft. Her nervousness dissipated as she kicked off her sandals, curling her legs by her side, enjoying how comfortable his couch was, soon after placing the wine and glasses on his coffee table. Even more than hers she could say. The clinking of glasses and plates, followed by the sound of doors closing, signaled he was done washing them.

Bea tugged the side of her dress in hopes it’d cover up her thighs a bit more, smiling up at him when he walked around the couch, trying to keep his eyes away from the expanse of her legs, seating himself on the opposite side. “More?” she asks, gesturing to the wine bottle, Bradley nods and leans back, grinning in thanks when she hands him his glass.

They sip their wine quietly, eventually the bottle is nearing it’s end and both of them are pleasantly buzzed. She was giggly, her hair was falling out of the bun onto her back and shoulders and her cheeks got even redder, “You are so cute.” he murmurs, to which she bites her lower lip, that made his eyes dart to her mouth immediately, his tongue coming out to wet his wine stained lips.

“You always say that.” she whispers, this time pulling her hair out of the bun so it travels down her back, she shakes her head so the strands on her forehead rest by her temples.

“Hmm,I’m not lying.” he purrs, “Pretty girl that you are, it’s a shocker you didn’t hear it more often.”

She scoffs out a laugh, running her hands through her hair before she reaches for the last bit of wine in her glass, setting it on the coffee table once she’s done. The atmosphere got a bit thicker, the wine making them run a little hot under their clothes. Her hands played with her skirt a bit, sometimes revealing more of her flesh for his eyes to see.

Bradley inhaled deeply, swallowing the final amount of wine in one gulp, placing his glass next to hers, his arm stretched so he could reach the coffee table. He looked over his bicep to see her green eyes locked on his stretched limb and he honestly couldn’t help but make a bit of a show of pulling his arm back, curling just to run a hand through his hair. The muscle stretched the fabric above it and he heard her take a quick intake of breath. 

He chuckles, stretching his legs to cross them by the ankle, which makes her look up at him, “What?”

“Do you remember the first time we met?” he grins, “I mean, the very first time I showed up to the counter and you just scurried away from me?”

“I…” she licked her lips “...no?”

-

Rooster tapped his hands on the wooden counter, looking around for either Penny or Shells, his sunglasses low on the bridge of his nose. The music from the jukebox made him bounce his leg with the rhythm as he waited. He saw Shells close by but it wasn’t her who called his attention first. There was a new face there.

There was this gorgeous brunette wearing a Metallica t-shirt right on his opposite side, she was laughing at something one of the patrons said, her hair pulled up in a bun to expose her neck. He tilted his head down just enough for his view to get clearer, he had never seen her on the bar before and he was sure he’d notice if she did.

His whiskey colored eyes dragged down from the top of her bun to the dark wash jeans, then to the black converse on her feet. She was dressed comfortably, tending to the people on the opposite side of the bar while he continued staring.

 The moment she turned and saw him, her face paled and then turned a bright red. He didn’t even have the chance to call her before she rushed over to Shells, muttering something to the blonde that made her throw her head back in a laugh, only to trade places with the curvier woman.

Rooster opened his mouth, watching that now she was farther away and Shells was looking at him instead, “What can I get you, Chanticleer?” she teases, waiting for him to say something.

He frowns, but then just orders the usual, watching Shells grab the beers then moving his gaze to the back of the brunette who seemed to be trying to not look his way, “There you go.” Shells grins, but he stays put, “Hey, Rooster.” she snaps her fingers in front of his eyes, which startles him, “Your drinks?”

“Right, thanks Shells.” he leans away from the bar counter, eyebrows furrowed when the brunette still isn't looking in his direction. 

-

Beatrice frowns, looking at her hands, “You made me nervous.” she whispered, “I mean…you were the first guy I got a strong crush on in years…I got scared.” she whispers, “I got terrified, I didn’t know what to do whenever you were around.”

Bradley’s eyebrows lowered “Was I that scary to you?”

“It’s…not scary you were just…you. You know? You are just…really fucking hot and I couldn’t focus on anything but on you.” she blurts out, not meeting his eyes, “I lost count of how many times I stood there just staring whenever you walked in. When you talked to me for real, I felt like I was going to faint. When you offered to help me out with my armoire, I freaked out. I…I just feared doing something wrong and making you uncomfortable.”

He scooted closer to her, his arms on the back of the couch, behind her as his chest touched her shoulder, “Hey, pretty girl,” he begins, “Look at me. Hey,” he cups her chin so he can turn her head towards him and her green eyes appear frightened, “You could never make me uncomfortable.”

“But what if I do?”

“Then…we’ll talk about it and figure out how to prevent that.” he says simply, “Same goes to me, if I make you uncomfortable I want you to say it.”

“...you won’t get upset?”

Bradley recoiled, wrinkling his eyebrows, “Upset? Why would I–” the way she looked away from him, immediately going back to her hands, almost ashamed of her own words, “...ex-boyfriend?” she nods quietly.

“The last one,” she murmurs, running her index finger over the tiny flowers on her summer dress, “He didn’t like how I acted. He criticized and antagonized me a lot…I never told my family about it, because I think part of me felt scared that if they knew they’d kick him away from me… and I wouldn’t find anyone else. “ she inhaled sharply “They just found out I broke up with him weeks after I told them he was cheating on me…sad thing is that I think I already knew, it was happening for months, I just tried to be better for him.”

“What happened to him?”

“...after I broke up with him, he was very surprised. I think it was the first time in our relationship I actually voiced out how he hurt me and how much I didn’t want him to do that anymore.” she chuckles dryly, “He just screamed at me, called me names… but I never raised my voice, I never– I guess I just was too tired to scream. I just wanted it to be over, I was going to go to the college I wanted after years of trying. I was ready to let go of that toxic waste.”

Bradley just watched her say it in silence, the hand not behind her clenched and relaxed. Two things were going on in his head: that how the relationship happened explained a lot of her personality around him and while the shyness was very endearing it bothered him that part of it was because of a guy who just couldn’t respect her. The second thing was that her ex better not be in Cali anymore, because he didn’t like how the mention of him made the lights in her eyes dimmer and her body to curl away from his own, with her hand rubbing up her arm, as if she was trying to get rid of an invisible stain, “Did he ever–”

“Put his hands on me? No.” she says quickly and he breathes out in relief, “He knew if he did, my family would notice and he’d be as good as dead. He always said he thought my family was part of the mafia. He joked about it once to my dad and my dad just looked him dead in the eye and said ‘he was going to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse’... I’ve never seen him so scared.” her laughter subsided until only her smile remained. “It’s been…I think four years since we broke up, haven’t seen him since.”

Bradley, while very pissed at the thought of someone willing hurting Bea so much, was very proud of her too “You are very brave,Bea.” he says and she looked at him like he said something ridiculous, “You are! You broke up with a guy who treated you like shit.”

“It took me years though…”

“It doesn’t matter how long it took,” he adjusts himself on the seat so his torso is fully turned towards her “What matters is that you got rid of him, by yourself. Without needing your family's help to do it, it is very brave.”

She looks at him out of the corner of her eye, then chuckles, “You are the one that flies I don’t know how many feet up in the air and I’m the brave one?” 

“I think they both are on the same level of bravery.”

Beatrice’s cheeks hurt from smiling, but she cups his face and presses a kiss to his lips, silently thanking him for being so sweet. So incredibly sweet, “Thank you.” she whispers against his mouth, giggling when he leans over to kiss her once again, his mustache tickling her upper lip. 

She wraps her arms around his neck while he goes wrap his own around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Bea’s cheeks get warmed up yet again,she’s sitting on her knees - even then he’s still taller than she was - her bare skin touching the soft fabric of his sweatpants. She doesn’t know if it’s because her brain wants to forget about their conversation or just because she wants to be even closer, but she wants to sit on his lap…however, she was wearing a dress.

That was too soon, she thought. So she broke the kiss off, smiling down at his flushed lips and enlarged pupils, rubbing her thumb on his cheekbone. “You have very pouty lips.” she whispers, running her thumb over said pouty lips, feeling his breathing against her skin. “You know that?”

“Hmmm, what?” his unfocused gaze goes from her mouth to her eyes “Sorry, couldn’t hear you.”

“I said you have very pouty lips.” she repeats, pressing another kiss to them, happy to hear him hum pleasantly, only to almost whine when she pulls back. “Very pink pouty lips.”

Bradley blinks a bit, licking his lips as if he was trying to feel it himself, only to furrow his eyebrows, “Do I?” she nods, still cupping his face in her hands, “I’ve heard people say I have a nice smile, but never about me having pouty lips.”

“They are very soft too.”

“I think they feel a bit chapped…”

“You need some chapstick then,” she says easily, “To keep them moisturized.” she breaks her grasp on him, fighting back a chuckle when he pouts his lips even more, to reach for her bag. She pulls out her own chapstick, popping out the lid and turning the containter’s wheel so the white stick comes up, “This is cherry flavored so…you might smell like cherry for a few hours…can I?”

“Will you kiss me more after?” he questions, to which she laughs but nods, “Go ahead.” he keeps himself still so she could rub the cherry flavored chapstick over his lips, there’s no color on it so the only thing that happens is that his lips seem a bit shinier for a few seconds before the oils are absorbed by his skin. She sits back on her knees, closing the little cylinder with a click, watching him smack his lips a few times then lick them, “Oh this really tastes like cherry.”

“Yeah, but I think you’d be more of a…cocoa butter type of guy.” she smiles, “Since you like chocolate and such. Do they feel nice?”

“They feel a lot softer than I remembered.” he mutters, “But I might need a second opinion.”

Beatrice laughs, wrapping her arms around his neck once more, “Gladly.” then pressing her lips back to his.

[rinusagitora]

I've turned like sour milk.

Fandom: Bleach Characters; Karin Kurosaki, Toushirou Hitsugaya, Momo Hinamori, Shunsui Kyouraku, Shinji Hirako, Lisa Yadomaru, Roujuurou Outoribashi, Rangiku Matsumoto, Izuru Kira, Shuuhei Hisagi, Renji Abarai Pairings: HitsuKarin-centric, mentions of RenShuuKiraHina, Rannao, ShinRose, & ShunUki Words: 4.2k Summary: Karin's dead now like she's always wanted. She's lucky enough to be housed by Momo and her spouses, but her troubles are far from over. Warnings: References of suicide & self-injury AO3: works/54973525 A/N: Written for HitsuKarin Week 2024.

Karin left the World of the Living wearing shorts and a tank top, barefoot having left her shoes on the bridge. Now she wears a white kimono, folded over like she's a corpse. She can't stop fiddling with the sleeves. She isn't used to their bell-shape. She isn't used to the fabric.

They trek through Ichibantai. The division is, more or less, what Karin expected it to be: antiquated. The floorboards squeal while Momo and Toushirou guide her towards the soutaichou's office. The building is a labyrinth, almost dreamlike. Evergreens cast shadows on the walls no matter where they are or how deep they venture. It's unnerving.

She knows this plane is but a graveyard. The overwhelming majority of the people here have died and carry that horror with them and it shows. Toushirou is now a century old. He still remembers the Russo-Japanese War and cholera. He got misty-eyed when she cracked a joke that he died on the can, and she's never felt as much of an awful person since, even after they made up. Naturally, the plane in which these people reside reflects the dawning of mortality, especially at night when the veil is thinnest. The knowledge of this doesn't keep the most primal parts of her from bristling.

They pause in front of a massive, carved door. Momo repacks her tobacco pipe, lights it with a spark from her snapping fingers. She takes a deep breath and knocks.

Shunsui is not what Karin expected. He opens the door, fixing a lively kimono over his shoulders.

"Hello. Thank you for meeting me at this time," he says. She smells sake on his breath. Her heart pounds. There's an odd emittance from him. Everyone has an aura. Toushirou's aura provokes the image of a dragon coiled around a snow-capped mountain. An icy exterior with a longing for stability found in authority. Momo's is a balefire in a meadow, or pushing around chicken in search of divination. Shunsui's aura is harder to peg. It's like a jack-in-the-box, if the puppet on the spring was a live snake. He is not the facade he dons.

"Soutaichou," Momo says. The three bow in unison. "Thank you for your accommodations. I understand it's after hours, but I presume you understand why I'd like to get this finished sooner rather than later."

Shunsui steps aside and they enter the office. The rice paper doors are open to a manicured stone garden. It's warm, despite it being late spring now, and she sees a kotatsu and a fire going in the pit. 

They take a seat around the kotatsu. Karin's legs ache the second she assumes seiza. The way Shunsui lounges makes her think they're being too formal, or that he loves seeing others prostrate.

"I'm sure you all understand these are most unusual circumstances," Shunsui says.

Momo smiles. "Is anything to do with the Kurosaki usual?"

Shunsui hums. He pours four glasses of sake. "Neither of you were present for Kuchiki's execution, but Kurosaki gave us the opportunity to save her from the execution and bring light to Sousuke's crimes. I can appreciate disruption."

He slides sake glasses over to them. Karin gingerly takes her cup and sips. It burns. This is far from her first taste of liquor, but it's strong shit. She's fuzzy the second it hits her belly. 

"Kurosaki-chan," Shunsui says. His cup touches his lips. "What were the circumstances of your death?"

Toushirou chimes, "She--"

Shunsui's hand lifts to stop him. "I want to hear it from her."

She's staring into the eyes of a nasty spirit while they drink. Her throat will be slit if her gaze averts. 

There's a dozen reasons why she drowned herself, each worse than the last, and increasingly private. She's never been good at politics. Even with the Gotei's multiple life debts to Ichigo, she's certain whatever she says will be held against her.

Karin gnaws on her lip and says, "This is all I've wanted."

"To die?" Shunsui says.

"No. To become a shinigami."

He chuckles. "But a short eighty years, and I'm sure you would've accomplished it."

"Eighty years of bumping into things isn't a life," she argues. "I'm sure you've seen my work, Soutaichou. It's all I want."

"Being a shinigami isn't all about exorcism," he says.

"I know. Toushi-- Hitsugaya-taichou is secretive, but he tells me there's a lot of paperwork no matter where you go."

"You've wanted this for a short... what? Five? Six years?" You understand we live forever unless we're killed or starve, right? Eons of fighting. Of dreary paperwork. Of the world ending. Over and over again."

Karin's heart pounds. She wishes it was dread. Instead, it's the thrill of a roller coaster. Of a promise. Of fresh love.

"May I ask a question, Soutaichou?" Karin says. He waves as permission. "In your years as a shinigami, have you been unfulfilled?" Shunsui is quiet. "My issue isn't as simple as disliking school. Even when my grades were okay, I'd look around what I could do with those skills, and all of it just seemed like a chore. Nursing was fulfilling, but I never had the bedside manner for it. The times I've battled hollows, and the times I've worked with your officers, have been the only times my skin has fit right.

Karin slides her cup onto the tabletop. "You ask why I killed myself. I couldn't go on, day after day, in skin that fit wrong."

"You're so much like your brother." Shunsui sips. "You've always done what's right for you."

Karin frowns. "Is that--"

Toushirou interrupts with, "That isn't an inherently bad quality, Soutaichou. Ichigo Kurosaki and his companions took out over half of our biggest threats for the Winter War during their excursion to Hueco Mundo. I'm confident our losses would've significantly increased if we faced the full force of Aizen's Court." He sips. "She has just as much to offer, and without Kurosaki's shortcomings."

Shunsui's gaze drinks her in. "Then what are your shortcomings, dear?"

Karin swallows. She isn't sure what else to do other than tell the truth. "I'm not always good at listening to authority. I have a temper as well," she replies.

"A temper?" Shunsui reiterates.

Momo scoffs. A cloud of tobacco billows around her face, and she says, while ashing her pipe into a ceramic tray, "All due respect, Soutaichou, our own have far more dangerous tempers. Is it not Mayuri Kurotsuchi-taichou who beat his lieutenant and daughter up until her demise during the Wandenreich invasion?"

"Kurotsuchi-taichou's usefulness is undisputed."

"That's exactly what I mean. Whatever shortcomings Karin has are a fraction of what we have in our uppermost echelon presently. You yourself acknowledge that acting against authority isn't inherently bad. Was it not you and the late Ukitake-taichou who rebelled against Central Forty-Six and your predecessor's orders for Rukia's execution? Do our present captains not have destructive tempers? Were we not founded on slaughter?"

Shunsui taps his cup with his finger. "I see now why you are so special to Nanao."

"I was given lucidity once Sousuke's influence was erased. She values that."

Shunsui leans back on his palm. "My niece has lived a thousand years and accrued wisdom of the ages for it. You have been the only one to share that, and at an infinitesimal age. Your input is one of the few I can take at face value."

There's a wave of indignity from Toushirou that Karin chooses to ignore for now. He's always butthurt when people aren't falling over his prodigal skills.

Shunsui stands and they stand with him. He circles the kotatsu and meets Karin. "It would be an honor to have you as our own, Kurosaki-chan. Once the exams open, you'll take an aptitude test, and your education at Shin'oureijutsuin will begin.

Karin smiles and bows. She can't believe this shit worked. "Karin is fine, Soutaichou. Thank you."

Shunsui bows, and they bow afterward. "Best of luck to you all. Good night."

Karin follows Momo and Toushirou into the night. He grabs her hand. She's fuzzy from booze, but optimistic.

"Well, that went spectacularly," Momo sighs. She takes a moment to puff from her pipe. "Now that that's done, let's go make merriment. Supper should be ready, don't you think?"

Toushirou sighs. "I'm just glad Muguruma's cooking skills are rubbing off on Hisagi."

"He's always been a good cook, you're just spoiled by Obaa-san's cooking."

"Yeah, yeah..."

Karin's heard a fair amount of Momo's husbands from Toushirou. He doesn't seem to get along with them, but tells her their relationship was more strained a few years ago, before the wedding. She's having trouble recalling any of their names, but knows one of them is a close friend of both Ichigo and Rukia, which is bad news for Karin. Ichigo's friends always seem to take his side. They always seem content squashing her under his heel.

Where else can she go, though? She isn't ready to move in with Toushirou so soon. As much as she loves him, she's filled with foulness. She isn't sure he can survive much more of her insanity. Of her self-destruction. God knows killing herself isn't the end of it. Wounds still fester within her.

Momo and her husbands reside in a classical double-decker with a garden and a spacious engawa. She hears ducks nearby and there are potent, joyous waves from within, wafting over her with the sound of laughter. It makes her chest ache.

Momo opens the door to a long entryway where their sandals are shed. "Toushirou, go ahead and meet the party. I'm going to get Karin out of those clothes."

"Alright. See you in a minute," Toushirou says to Momo. He turns to Karin and kisses her cheek. Karin smiles while fiddling with her sleeves. "You too."

Momo takes her past a remarkably open and modern living area, up a set of stairs, through a hallway lit by magical lights, and into a bedroom. She opens a closet brimming with bedding and boxes, and pries one from the neat pile, briefly opening it, and frowns. "Ugh, I might have to loan you something of Shuuhei's. You're much... flesh-ier than I am."

That's one way of putting it. Karin isn't tall. Taller than Momo, but it isn't terribly uncommon for anyone to be taller than Momo. The issue is she's as endowed as an hourglass. Her breasts are large, her hips are wide, and her arms and legs are as thick as the haunches of a horse. This has been a deliberate effort, of course. Karin loves nothing more than to be the image of power. But it does spell difficulty when she needs to borrow clothes from others. When Jinta and Ururu would take her home, each of them covered in the blood of hollows, the only one she could dream of fitting into was Tessai's drawstring pajamas while her clothes were in the wash.

Momo does find a suitable kimono. It's sleeveless and slate blue. Momo removes it from the box in search of an obi, and scoffs when she doesn't find one. "Ugh, I'm sorry. My husband wears... unique accessories at home. Let me grab an obi from my uniform to affix it, dear."

Karin pulls apart the obi holding the kyoukatabira she wears, sheds the rest she wears, and dresses in a loin cloth and the yukata. Momo finds a belt to shut it. It's clear these clothes were made for someone with a much flatter chest than her own. In order to keep the hem even, Karin keeps the collar open. She wishes she had tape to prevent a wardrobe malfunction. But ultimately it is workable.

Momo smooths the fabric over Karin's shoulders. "We'll get you some clothes soon, dear. This will have to do tonight, though," Momo says. "Are you okay to go downstairs now?"

"Better now than never."

They descend the stairs and Karin is taken to a large dining area brimming with jovial atmosphere. She hears laughter and smells hot food. The rice doors are open to a garden with a pond and something like four ducks. There are so many people here. At least a dozen. Karin recognizes Rangiku, and there's a redhead built like a brickhouse that Karin is certain she's seen around Karakura. He's likely Ichigo's friend.

Upon seeing Momo and Karin, the attendees lift their glasses and shout, "Banzai!"

Momo smiles and they take their seats. "This is a spectacular turnout for a last minute gathering," Momo says. Karin crosses her legs on the floor. "Thank you all for coming. You're our dearest friends, and I hope that our ward will find friendship among you all."

Karin bows from her seated position. "Thank you all for having me."

Rangiku laughs and waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, you're too formal! This is a party, isn't it?" 

Toushirou reaches over with a cigarette. She takes one in her lips and takes a drag once he lights it. A scrawny blond man, simply swimming in a shinigami uniform, shovels various dishes and two drumsticks from a fat turkey onto her plate. Karin thanks him, noting the gold wedding band against his gray skin. His reiatsu is a weird piecemeal of misery and something like four others. It's weird. Karin is curious, but doesn't have the opportunity to ask about it when Rangiku asks, 

"Well, Karin-chan, how are you feeling? Death treating you well?"

Karin isn't sure whether or not Rangiku knows that Karin committed suicide. She chooses not to broach the subject. "In truth, it's a lot to take in all at once. I'm fortunate to have Toushirou and Momo as guides."

"That you are," another blond man chimes. He walks over, shooing Toushirou to sit behind her, and sticks his hand out. "Shinji Hirako, captain of gobantai. Pleasure to meet you."

Karin delicately shakes his hand. "Likewise."

"So, we got a Kurosaki here permanently. What plans do you have?" Shinji asks.

"I imagine similar goals you had as a cadet. I'm here to become a shinigami."

"Yes, but why? What are you looking to get out of this?"

"Mah, Shinji, leave the poor thing alone," a bespectacled woman says. "It's her first night here. At least let her eat."

Karin picks up a drumstick as Momo giggles. Shinji sticks out his tongue at her. "Ever an ally, Yadomaru-taichou."

"You live with him long enough and learn to to equip some balls." The woman slides over. "I'm Lisa Yadomaru, captain of hachibantai... ignore Shinji's curiosity, he's always looking to get something."

Karin hums while she chews chicken. It's practically melting in her mouth. "It's a reasonable question. Soutaichou wanted to know the same."

"A reasonable question with more appropriate timing," Lisa says. Karin sees Toushirou and Shinji wrestling for the seat next to Karin in her peripheral. "Why don't you tell us about yourself first?"

She shrugs. "There isn't much to know about me. I hunt hollows. I used to play soccer. Toushirou and I have been dating awhile." The rest of it is too painful to talk about right now. Later. If ever.

Lisa chuckles. "Yeah, there's nothing quite like the field. It's a pity I must spend most of my time behind a desk."

"Oh, I understand my time will likely be spent the same way."

"Well, thankfully, this place is... a bit of a behavioral sink. There's a lot of us, there isn't always a lot to do, and so you'll have plenty of debauchery to engage in." Lisa sips sake. "Are you queer, Karin?"

Karin blinks. "That's quite a segueway."

"I promise it's related," Lisa says while Momo giggles.

"Well... yes. I'm a woman. I'm not particularly picky about my partners, so long as, um... well, so long as I'm topping if that makes sense." Karin smiles bashfully. She hasn't really talked about her sexuality with anyone but Jinta, Toushirou, and Ururu. It feels different. "I like more effeminate people, though."

Lisa says, "Ugh, yeah, those femmes have me by the belt at all times. Anyway: conservatism is prominent here, but most of us here are queer in some facet."

Toushirou finally wins back his seat. "Yeah, I've noticed the same. I mean, wasn't it Hirako and Outoribashi who married first of... er, for lack of a better word, the group?"

"Yes. Point being, you'll have your fill of whatever your poison may be. And if you get into my division, there's plenty to go around," Lisa says, winking.

Rangiku chuckles. "Oh, stop trying to play matchmaker for Yayahara-chan. She does just fine on her own," Momo says.

"None of you guys are any fun," Lisa whines.

Karin asks, "Who else is here?"

"Oh, dear, there's many," Momo says. "Here we go. You've met Rangiku-san, Shinji Hirako-taichou, and Lisa Yadomaru-taichou--"

"Yadomaru-san is fine," Lisa says. Karin nods.

"My spouses are Renji, Shuuhei, and Izuru," Momo says, pointing each of them out. Renji and Izuru, Izuru being the one who served her food earlier and Renji being the redhead she recognizes, are sitting with a carafe and another very large man that Karin is fairly cerain is either yakuza or bousouzoku judging by his cartoonishly large pompadour. Shuuhei is fitting over a pork bun with a lithe, green-haired woman. "The man with Renji and Izuru is Tetsuzaemon Iba-taichou. He's a dear friend of ours." Rangiku snorts and Momo glares at her. Karin's eyebrow cocks but she doesn't have further time to inquire. "Shuuhei is sitting with his co-lieutenant Mashiro Kuna. Their captain is the short, white-haired man sitting next to them, Kensei Muguruma-taichou. At the end of the table are Roujuurou Outoribashi-taichou, Izuru's captain, and Nanao Ise, my longtime friend, Rangiku's wife, and the Soutaichou's lieutenant."

The sheer amount of people here is a little overwhelming, and it's worse feeling what all of them feel. The longer she stays here, drinking in the infectious jubilation, the more she wishes she was alone. She only just suffered the grief of a couple dozen people; the ire of Ichigo and Yuzu, the confliction of her best friends. One would expect this feast would be a welcome departure from the last couple of days but it's all too much. Karin would rather have some time to process and to wallow.

The likelihood of her retreat is a different issue. Momo and her spouses were kind enough to offer their home as lodging. It would be incredibly rude to snub their efforts with her escape.

Roujuurou makes his way over, sitting behind Karin. She scoots herself around and bows to him.

"Hello and welcome to the Seireitei, Kurosaki-san," he says.

"Karin is fine," she replies. Roujuurou smiles.

"Your brother was our ally, and we, the Vizard, owe him. We owe you by extension," Roujuurou explains. Karin tries to brush off her brother's mention. "I am captain of sanbantai. Anything you need, I'll do what I can to provide. I know the same can be said for my husband Shinji."

Karin wants to say she doesn't want her brother's debts. Instead, she asks, "Vizard?"

He hums. Lisa says, "We're kind of like a hybrid of shinigami and hollow. We're not arrancar. Arrancar are... um... sourced from hollows. We were, and are, shinigami with hollows inside of us. Your brother is the same way."

"Well, it's more complicated than that according to Urahara, but yes," Roujuurou says.

"You know Urahara and Tsukabishi?" Karin asks.

"We were exiled with them after Aizen's experiment on us failed," Lisa explains.

"Well, yes, but it's more accurate to say they sacrificed their comfort to save us," Roujuurou says. "We would've been executed, or worse, if they hadn't ran with us."

Karin hums. "They are especially popular."

"More like infamous," Toushirou quips.

Roujuurou stands. "It was good meeting you, Karin. Take care. Again, my offer is indefinite. Whatever you made need."

Karin bows as he leaves. Toushirou squeezes her thigh, and she shoos him off. He leaks hurt.

"I'm going to fetch my husbands so they can introduce themselves as well," Momo says, standing. "Toushirou, could you fetch more sake?"

"Um, yeah, sure," he says.

Karin swigs a drink in her moment of privacy before standing to meet Momo's spouses Izuru, Renji, and Shuuhei. They're all much taller than she, even Izuru, who is simply swimming in his uniform.

"Karin, these are Izuru, Renji, and Shuuhei," Momo says. Renji nods to her.

"Hi," Karin says. She bow politely. "Thank you for having me."

"Welcome, Kurosaki," Renji says. He claps her on the arm and she winces. His slap doesn't sting as much as the name.

"Karin is fine," she says.

"Y'know, I didn't recognize you at first," Renji says, "you've grown up a lot."

"Yeah," she agrees.

"More importantly, what was it like living with Ichigo Kurosaki?" Shuuhei asks.

Momo says, "Let's leave those questions for a later time." Momo rubs Karin's back. "Do you have any questions for them, Karin-chan?"

Karin glances between them, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. She wants to ask why Izuru is comprised of something like four different reiatsu, ask how well Renji knows Ichigo, why Shuuhei is interested in her brother, but it all locks up in her throat. It embarrasses her. Normally, Karin is assertive and fearless, but she's tired now. Everything feels like a damn landmine.

"Naw," she says, "I think we'll get to know each other along the way."

Karin sits through another two hours of questions she doesn't have answers to, conversational topics of varying interest, and exorbitant alcohol consumption. By the point in which party-goers are peetering out, she's seeing triple and wobbling.

At least she's numb.

She does have the wherewithal to help with cleanup.

She wrings out a rag in the sink. Momo squawks, "It's your special night! It's like your birthday. Birthday girls don't do the cleaning!"

Izuru snorts. "You're always cleaning up after your birthday," he says. Momo's glare could very well have cut him, judging by how quickly he escapes the kitchen.

Karin unrolls the rag. "I's fine," she slurs, "leas' I shoul'do."

Momo sighs. "Karin-chan, I'm grateful for your help, but you need to lay down."

"Naw," she insists, brushing past Momo and tripping on her foot. She catches herself in the doorframe. Thankfully, she doesn't have the means for shame just yet. She'll leave it for the morning.

Momo sighs. "I'll have Toushirou take you to your room. Shuuhei had it made earlier today."

Karin hums. She looks at her hand and the rag's gone. Momo has it flung over her shoulder and it occurs to her just how sloshed she is. 

"Yeah, okay," Karin replies.

Momo whistles and Toushirou makes his way down the hall with an armful of dishes. Momo takes them, kisses his head, and Toushirou wraps Karin in a hug. He kisses her. It twists a knife in her chest she's only now aware of.

It's a chore getting upstairs. He has to drag her up because her feet aren't working, and it brings tears to Karin's eyes. Embarrassment, namely. 

She doesn't know if she can do this with him anymore. This isn't any different than the times he's held her in the shower while rinsing off the blood from her wrists.

She's laid on her futon, hugs his shoulders, and kisses him. His thumb pets her cheek.

Karin sniffs. "Toushirou, I know you can't... I know you can't feel others the way I do, but I'm in a lot of pain now." She wipes her tears away. "I don't know that I can do this now."

Dread washes over him. It's almost enough to make Karin hurl. "What?"

"I think a big piece of me broke when I jumped. All I feel is pain and resentment and... and I think to every time you rushed to my side when I couldn't take it anymore, when I'd gore myself, and I'd feel your pain."

"I don't know what you're trying to say." His voice is shaking.

Karin squeezes her eyes shut. Her tears roll off her temple and into her hair. "I can't do this to you anymore."

He licks his lips. "Are you breaking up with me?"

Karin sobs. She holds him and lays their heads together. "Can you wait for me?"

He sobs. "I don't understand what I did to... to prompt this."

"You're not listening," she says, "I broke, Toushirou, and you've mopped up after me for so long. I can feel when you're in pain. I can't do that to you over and over again when this is supposed to fix me."

He sits back on his legs and runs his hands down his face. Karin props herself on her elbows. There's four of him, coalescing into an image of confusion and hurt, before separating into six spinning, blurry iterations, blurry in her watery eyes. 

Toushirou sighs and says, "You've... you've been everything to me for years."

"This is supposed to fix me." She's still in pieces now.

His chest heaves while he licks his lips and pushes his fingers through his hair. "You're drunk." He stands. "Good night, Karin."

He leaves and rips her heart out with him, connective tissue and arteries and all.

Karin muffles herself as she sobs. Rolling onto the bedroll, snot blows onto her hand while she screams into her skin.

She knows better than most that shit gets worse before it gets better. The anguish of it isn't anything she'll get used to.

[icharchivist]

Am I allowed to say that while I love Logia infinitely, I definitely prefer the masc presenting design over the femme

Not that either is inherently better or worse, it's just my personal preference

you're kinder than i am, i'm totally on the "whoever designed F!Logia i just want to talk why the fuck did you think the boob cages were a great fucking idea"

I adore the fact Logia is genderfluid and race fluid as well, i like that the m!Logia is a human and in theory that f!Logia is non-human is cool.

But it goes back to how i personally really dislike the whole idea of the differences between m/f draph to start with, i dislike how it's a cheap way to sexualize your female characters. But for the most part i kinda grit through it because well, it is what it is, and it's a gacha, they also will rely on their horny fanbase, then so be it.

In theory if the draph didn't come with the hypersexualized design i would love that f!Logia is one since the horns do really look nice on them, and echo their dragon's form, and i find that really cool.

But god the F!Logia body really irks me and the design choices added to the draph body really just are bewildering to me.

There is this desire in m!Logia's design to have them look sick, there's sorts of metal parts around the legs and arms that are supposed to be here to help them walk and move because Logia is supposed to be frail.

And i feel like on f!Logia they redirected those designs details on the boob cage and the corset and personally i really dislike it, and on the legs what was a sort of walking aid on m!Logia is just. sexy compressing boots?

Even the posture is different, m!Logia is hunching a bit forward, they're not standing straight, you really do have the feeling they're not exactly at the peak of their physical condition. f!Logia kinda redirects that on having Logia's head covered in bandage in a way that looks more messy than m!Logia, but otherwise their posture is pretty straight, and with the arms posture, it just puts her breasts and her thighs into focus, in a way that are not present at all on m!Logia.

I'm really seeing it in a Doylist VS Wastonian reasoning (Doylist = what the creators out of the universe had in mind // Wastonian = what the character's reasoning for things in universe are).

On a Doylist perspective, i find it cheap and lazy and there were better way to design the f!design. I'm glad they didn't chicken out of the concept of "since they are the personification of how the slightest details being changed in a timeline can change things drastically, then it makes sense their appearance reflect that if only by switching back and forth between different presentations, in race and gender". But i think it was the laziest possible f!Design that relied too much on sexualization, like they were scared their core women-attracted audience would tune out from the heartful parental story if they didn't make them sexy.

On a Wastonian reasoning. Look. If Orologia wants their female form to be a sexy woman with big boobs who am i to shame. i'll support my parent over any way they want to present themselves. And in the end, sure, i can find it fun that our canonically genderfluid character has such drastic different physical appearance.

But yeah. I prefer m!Logia form in general as well.

I do think that the voice work on both gender really elevate the characters by the end of it anyway and i get to care about Logia when they're in f!form too, it still gives me the impression both Logia are the same Logia, so it makes it easier.

but yeah f!Logia's design personally is something i have problem with. alas.

And my problem starts with the draph bodytype, but i love the horns, so if i was personally to work on redesigning it and keeping the draph body, i'd just personally change their clothes. Like just give them the same type of aesthetic than m!Logia rather than the bdsm gear i beg you. Momdad deserves better.

[twoheartsoneclara]

Merry Christmas (if you celebrate!) I hope you have a lovely day. What was your favorite book you read this year? (I am trying to build a reading list for when the holidays are over.)

Merry Christmas to you, too! I had an absolutely lovely day and I hope you did, too. :)

(youtuber voice: editing claire i really did start typing up a reply to this on christmas and then fell horribly ill so here i am a couple of days later lol)

My absolute favorite book that I read this year was Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman. I read it all in one night and was honestly just stunned by how moving it is as a story. It's a book that kind of defies description by genre but is kind of similar to A Wrinkle in Time/The Phantom Tollbooth/etc. in that it's a whimsical yet dark story about coming of age and yet it's also about an adult looking back on their life. It's everything to me, I think everyone should read it. It's still my favorite of his works.

Some of my other favorites that I've read this year (I know you asked for only one but I figured I'd give a couple in case one of them catches your fancy instead):

Thistlefoot by Genna Rose Nethercott - (fantasy, retelling of the Baba Yaga folktale by following her descendants, a brother and sister who inherit her house on chicken legs and they perform on tour a puppet show that they've worked on with their family for years, all the while being hunted down by the Longshadow Man). Also brilliantly moving and even has chapters narrated from the point of the view of the house with such a distinct voice(!!)

Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr - (literary, with three sections of historical/contemporary/futuristic settings, and a really long epic about the human condition, which I know seems kind of silly to say, but it's about taking refuge in stories from ages past and also contains a lot of commentary on the way that we treat our natural world and its resources)

The Other Side of Perfect by Mariko Turk - (contemporary, about a teenage girl who has to give up her dreams of becoming a professional ballerina after a severe injury and it's about her time in her high school drama department and also deals with unpacking her ideas about her self-worth and deals with institutional racism in the artistic world)

The Invention of Murder: How the Victorians Revelled in Death and Detection and Created Modern Crime by Judith Flanders (non-fiction, and obviously about murder and what all that entails, but it's such a FASCINATING look into the victorian era and the actual details of crime but also the way that society responded to it, in the way police became codified into an actual force, how this exacerbated class tensions, also how theatre and literature reflected all of this) this book may be only of interest to specifically me in terms of subject content but it's also written and researched really well.

[cileevi]

The Speed Of Pain: Let Her In

Chapter Four

Charlotte

" You took it better than I thought. " 

I smile at Marilyn's reflection in the mirror as I admire my first tattoo. " I can't wait to show Bowie. He's going to flip. " 

It has been a couple of weeks since we got to L.A. He was working in the studio late the last few nights so today he surprised me with a tattoo shop visit. He was already getting inked when I was asked if wanted anything done. I won't say I caved to peer pressure, but everyone in the shop damn near begged me to get one. Bowie was playing on the radio and I picked the lyric right then and there. 

There's no way I'm going to lie and say it didn't hurt because it did. Seeing how perfect it is though... Totally worth the pain. Marilyn got some green one-eyed gremlin on his arm. I'll never understand why he needed that but hey, it's his life and body.

" Let me see. " He says coming closer.

Turning toward him his eyes scan over it. "Badass. Do you really know Bowie? I mean, I know your dad does but... " 

" I met him when I was a kid. He's pretty cool and loves when his fans get his lyrics tattooed. Maybe I'll get another soon. Something from Labyrinth. " I say absently while still admiring the fresh ink in the mirror.

I hear him chuckle behind me. " Now you're hooked. Your dad was right. " 

" Shut it... " I say before sticking my tongue out at him. " Thanks for letting me hold your hand. " 

Yes. I did need a bit of comfort during, I have no shame. 

" Thanks for holding mine. " He says with a simple tug of his lips. It's then that his growling stomach interrupts making me laugh. " I'm fucking starving. " 

Reaching out I take his hand and say, " let's go to the grocery store. I'll make a good dinner for us tonight. "

&lt;>

" Mmm, baby that was good. Thank you. " Marilyn says as I figure out how to work his VHS player. 

Throwing him a smile from over my shoulder I say, " you're welcome ". 

We just finished our fried chicken dinner, in which he had a breast, two wings, and a thigh. I swear he ate like he hasn't seen food for weeks. And this is good because as Sharon said, he's much too thin. 

While at the grocery store, we found a classic on VHS, Sleepaway Camp, and decided to get it. This is our Friday night in a nutshell. Vegged out on his couch with red vines and chocolate-covered raisins for dessert. All while a forced transgender girl is slashing her way through camp. 

" All I'm saying is, why on earth is Meg giving him the time of day? " I ask absently. " He's an old geezer that probably can't get it up anymore. " 

This is like one of three things that get on my nerves about this movie. The other two? How does one die from vag burns? And how was Angela strong enough to gut Meg like that through the shower?  Otherwise, a perfect horror movie.

" The only unrealistic part of this movie. " He jokes as he lays back to get comfortable. 

Slapping his stomach lightly I shake my head. " Still, if it were Ronnie... It'd be more believable. At least he was eighties attractive. " 

" What on earth is " eighties attractive "? " He asks with a roll of his eyes.

I shrug. " He's attractive for eighties standards. "

" And what am I? " 

I give him a haughty look. " You're timeless, baby. "

He cranes his neck up to look at me. His expression tells me everything his voice refuses to. Smiling I reach and cup his face.

" You have beautiful brown eyes, full kissable lips, and a distinguished nose. " I say while trailing my finger down the slope of it.

He snorts at the last part and goes back to watching the movie. Digging my fingers into his hair, I scratch at his scalp gently. 

" And you have really long legs. " And it's true. His legs are very attractive to me.

And just like that he flips me over and wraps his entire body around me. The mixture of pheromones, vanilla, sweat, and our mingling natural scents fill my entire being. Being wrapped up in him like this is something I'm always going to relish in. Letting my body mold into his, I wriggle around to get comfortable. 

" Keep rubbing like that if you want to. " He whispers in my ear. " Wake him up at your own risk. " 

That's just it... I want to wake him up. The only thing that has been stopping me from initiating is my absolute inexperience. 

" We'll get there. I'm not in any rush. " He promises as if he can read my thoughts. 

He gets off of me and I settle on my side with my back against the couch. Turning into me, he settles his head in my chest while wrapping his arms around my middle. My fingers return to scratching his scalp as the forgotten movie plays on in the background. 

We'll get there my ass.

" So you grew up in London? " He mumbles half asleep already.

Still scratching I say, " not really. I was born there, but we moved to the states before I started school ".

" So that's why you don't have an accent. Where did you settle? " He asks fully enjoying my fingers in his scalp.

I hmm feeling fatigued myself. " Tampa. My mom still has a bit of an accent but she was big on assimilation so I took speech classes. "

" Florida? " He mumbles. " Small world, when I was in high school we moved to Orlando. "

Not too far away from where I was. " Where were you before that? "

" Ohio, of the middle west. " He jokes.

Raking through his air I ask, " did you like it there "?

" Nah, I used to get my ass kicked every other day. " He mumbles again. " I preferred Florida. The people there are much more interesting. "

Chuckling I say. " You got that right. Ever hear of Florida Man? "

" Honey, I am Florida Man. " Which is the last coherent thing he says before falling into a deep sleep.

Marilyn

I wake up to blue light beaming from behind me. Turning over I blearily see the tv is still on but the movie has long since stopped. Clearing my throat I look back at the woman still sleeping beside me. Part of me wants to wake her up and start some shit I know she isn't ready for. The other part of me wins out.

Going to get up, I pause when my eyes land on her exposed inner thigh. My stomach churns for the first time in years. There, barely visible are five thin scars. All at least an inch or more and look to have been deep.  

She's a fucking cutter. Judging from the way the scars look, not for a long time, but still. What in the fuck does someone so perfect have to cut for? How have I not noticed sooner?

It's just dawned on me that there was a party I was supposed to be at last night. Not just any party, a Johnny party. Picking up the phone I dial his number and lean back still groggy from waking up.

" Hey man, I need to talk. " I yawn out when he answers. 

Hey man, I'm just about to go to bed. 

Looking at the clock, it reads five past four. " Sounds like you had a great night. " 

It was pretty fucking epic. I can't believe you skipped the party.  

I had every intention of going to show off blondie but then she put in that movie and her magical fingers lulled me to sleep. The food she stuffed me with didn't help either. " I have Charlotte here and she cooked an amazing dinner. I ended up passed out on the couch with my head between her tits. " 

Sounds like heaven. And the only acceptable excuse for missing out on the fun. You're forgiven. 

" For a hellion like me, it's the closest I'll ever get to the promised land. " I tell him honestly. " I'll make it up to you though. Maybe Charlotte can cook dinner for us before she heads off to do that Pixar movie. You'll love her cooking. " 

Sounds good. I'm just glad she's making you happy. I was worried for a while there. 

Everyone was worried. Over the last six months, I've been starting to feel again slowly but surely. Recording Antichrist Superstar really took its toll but I needed to create it. In order to do that, I had to stop feeling anything but the music. It was the only way it was going to work. My last relationship suffered to the point of death while recording it. Hell, I was mentally checked out two years before that if I'm honest. 

That's why I've been keeping Charlotte close. I was on another level mentally when we first met. Coming back up from such a low-low has shit moving in slow motion. She's the only clear thing I can focus on. 

Everyone else kind of turns mechanical if I look at them for too long. I didn't intend for it to happen this way and I like it and dislike it in equal measure. I crave her and don't want to crave her at the same time.

Now having found those scars... I both want and don't want to know why. Why would she cut herself when she told me she didn't understand why I cut myself up? 

 " I don't know what she's doing to me honestly. " I say while rubbing my face tiredly.

I don't tell him exactly why because her scars are hers. It's not my place to tell anyone. Not unless I think she's currently hurting herself. 

I don't like the sound of that. You were just singing her praises don't go talking yourself out of it now. 

" It's just... " I start. " When I asked her to come to Canada with the band I thought I'd fuck her a few times and get her out of my system. Like I'd been doing the last year. " 

And you fell in love with the pussy? How romantic.  

Snorting I say, " I haven't even touched the pussy. We shared a bed every night and all I could do was lay and wonder how I got her there in the first place. " 

Come on, man, you've had more than your share of beautiful women. What makes her so different that you're doubting yourself?  

He's right. I have been with plenty of women. Hell, I was in a long-term relationship for five years. All of them were pretty cookie-cutter for my taste. Pale skin, dark hair, and eyes. That's my usual type. 

I don't know how this blonde hair blue-eyed " beauty " dug her way under my skin the way she has. Just two years ago I'd have thought it crazy if someone said I'd be with such an all-American beauty like her. 

" Everything so far. She looks at me with those huge blue eyes and I'm helpless. " And hopeless. " The worst part is she isn't even trying to drive me crazy, she just is. I could have asked her to stay with me for Christmas but let her go to London. I thought spending some time away would help me think better... In reality, all it did was make me miss her. "

Sounds like love, mate. When was the last time you felt it for a woman? 

" Years. " I tell him honestly. " Shit with Missy was a slow crash. By the time things were done, there was no love to be felt. I really fucked her over. I don't want to do that to Charlotte. " 

Missy was cool but we both know you both held onto that relationship longer than you should have. The way I see it, you have two choices, Manson. Either accept your feelings and let them be known... Or if you really don't want things to end the same as with Missy, let her go.

" I'm not letting her go. She's... " I almost say she's different but the last time I did that I ended up in the downward spiral I tail spinned into in the first place. 

Embrace the love, man. Let her in. She just might be what you've been missing. 

Heaving a huge sigh I say, " I knew if I talked to you I'd figure shit out ". 

That's what I'm here for, brother. Now go back to your girl. I'm hitting the sack with a buxom blonde as we speak.  

[kirishoshego]

Anniversary//Bakugo

!!!MINORS DNI!!! 18+ONLY!!! Summary: Bakugo and you have been dating for two years now and things went well, but lately he didn’t had much time for you, something he plans to apologize for on your anniversary  Words: 3.2k+ TW:nsfw: unprotected sex, toys, anal play, anal, choking, spanking, degrading and praise, oral (him receiving), using a gag on you, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, lots of drool basically, at the end a cute little fluffy scene I’m sorry it’s a bit messy 😖 I hope you still enjoy it and wishing everyone a great start in the new week :) You sighed as you looked at yourself in the mirror, cladded in a red lace body suit with some cute flower details. It hugged your curves in all the right places, your waist adored by straps that clung to matching knee high socks. “Ugh, I don’t know Mina, I think it’s too much...” you said through the door, turning around to look at your backside.  “Let me see,” before you could say anything she opened the door and slipped in, careful so no one else could peak inside. “Girl please, you look like a fucking masterpiece, you really make me question my sexuality right now,” she told you, looking you up and down. “Momo, what do you think?” Mina asked your sick friend on the other side of the screen, turning the camera to you. “You look absolutely stunning! If it’s the money I’ll send the amount you need to you on Venmo, just buy it, Bakugo will definitely fu-” she was cut of by a fit of coughs, taking a sip of her tea. “That’s not it, it’s just...” you trailed off, wrapping a lacy coat over your body before sitting down in the small changing room. “Oh please, that man is deeply in love with you, I met him a couple of days ago and he would only talk about you. He’s just stressed with Hero Work, with Kiri sick right now he’s a bit overworked, it has nothing to do with you,” said Momo. “Imagine being one of the strongest shields to ever exist and getting defeated by a badly cooked piece of chicken, poor Eijiro,” Mina shook her head. “You’re right, I worry too much... We actually want to visit him later tonight, I hope he’s a bit better, Bakugo wanted to cook chicken soup for him,” you told the girls with a smile on your lips.  “See. Now please buy this or I’ll lose my mind,” your pink haired friend told you. “Fine, if it keeps you sane,” you laughed.  Mina walks out of the stall so you have enough space to change back into your normal clothes, ready to go all in.  Bakugo was indeed very stressed, coming home later than usual and barely talking to you. Not because he didn’t want to like you thought, but because he was so on edge that he was scared to snap at the one person who took some weight off his shoulder, not adding onto it. He knew it was shitty, that you didn’t like it when he shut off like that and especially push you away he does right now. So Bakugo hoped pulling you in close at night when he came back from work, noticing how hard you tried to stay away to see him, would tell you how much he appreciated you.  When you woke up the spot next to you was already cold, the only sign of him laying next to you was the dent in his pillow. He had made you breakfast, leaving a note that read: I will be late again today princess, I love you x A small smile found its way on your face, he always left you notes when he’s stressed and sorry about not being able to spend as much time with you as he usually does. You kept them all in a small box in your night stand, reading through them when ever he was on a hero mission. You texted him good morning and thanked him for the breakfast, not awaiting a reply as you knew how busy he was. But much to your surprise his ringtone signaled you that he had send you a message: I’ll be at home by 11:30 p.m, see you then? Of course he will. You have been craving him for long now, your body and mind screaming his name, begging for his touch, begging for his hot kisses all over your body, wanted to feel him inside of you again, his skin on yours. You couldn’t remember the last time he bend you over and fucked you, his hand wrapped around your throat, reminding you who’s slut you are. 

Now you had 13 hours to pass, so much time on hand and yet so little. You had so many ideas popping up in your head that you didn’t know where to start. You made yourself a list and hoped to finish everything before he came home so you could spend the night together nicely, partying into your special day. Once you were done with cleaning your living space you decided to go out and grab Bakugo’s favorite take out, not being able to pass by your local flower shop without grabbing a couple of new plants to fill your flat nicely.  Still having two more hours to pass you decided it was time to prepare yourself. As the warm water fell onto your skin and making your muscles relax, your mind wandered off to the many times Bakugo had joined you in here, taking the stress out on you, the windows not only fogged from the hot water. After you had dried yourself and put on some lotion that left your skin extra soft you applied his favorite perfume, the one he gifted you on your birthday last year. You still had enough time left, drinking a cup of coffee so you’ll stay awake long enough, answering the girls group chat and texting Bakugo that you can’t wait to see him. You had send him a picture of you holding up the take out, letting him know he doesn’t has to worry about his dinner. He texted you back earlier, stating that he doesn’t know what looks more delicious, you or the food, with a text following suit after to let you know that his decision fell on you. The red lace outfit was hidden in one of your drawers, not wanting him to see it on accident. You slipped into it, twisting and turning in the mirror to make sure everything sat nicely. Not a moment too soon apparently as you could hear Bakugo’s key rattling and the door being opened.  The light in your hallway was being turned on and you could hear Bakugo taking off his shoes and jacket, his bag falling on the floor as he walked into the living room.  “Princess?” he called out, making your heart flutter and setting off a tingle between your legs. “I’m here,” you answered, hearing him walk to where you stood. “Holy shit,” he groaned as his crimson red eyes fell onto your in lace clad frame. His eyes wandered over every curve of your body, taking in the beautiful view he could never get enough from. “Come here baby,” he motioned for you walk up to him, licking his lips as you stopped right in front of him.  “You look so good, I’m so fucking in love with you, do you know that?” “I love you too Katsuki,” you whispered against his lips that were mere moments away from crashing into yours.  One of his warm hands cupped your cheek, drawing small circles on your skin as his other hand wandered down to the swell of your ass, squeezing it and delivering a slap onto the soft skin, pulling out a soft moan from your throat.  His mouth now wandered along your jaw, kissing down your neck, licking over your sweet spot before biting down on it. Bakugo turned you around so you would face the broad mirror, his eyes meeting you in the reflective surface. You could see the glint in his eyes and knew you were in for a long nights, feeling him smirk against the crotch of your neck. He made sure your body was pressed into his so you feel his hard dick through his pants. The blond stopped kissing you, watching your face twist in pleasure as his hand slipped into your underwear, middle finger sliding into your wet walls, collecting some of your wetness before pulling out again and licking his finger clean. Making sure your eyes were on him the whole time he now grabbed your face between his other hand, turning it to him so he could kiss you, his tongue coated in his spit and your juice. The blond returned his hand back to were you most craved it, flicking your clit every now and then to hear your sinful mewls swallowed by his mouth on yours. He had enough of muffling your moans so he turned your face to the mirror again, ordering you to keep looking at yourself with his hand wrapped around throat, his mouth licking and biting along your shoulder. His fingers were circling your clit over and over again until he heard your breath hitch, your hands now gripping his underarms tightly.  “Are you close Princess?” he asked you, a smug look on his face as a whimper of a ‘yes’ left your puffy lips.  “Wanna cum? Already? That’s a bit pathetic, don’t you think?” he groaned, biting your earlobe gently as his fingers picked up speed, his hard on throbbing in his now tight pants. You couldn’t help yourself but agree with him, how could you not? He knew your body better than anyone, knew how to make you cum within minutes. “It’s okay, you can cum, I neglected you for so long, hm? Be a good girl and show me that pretty ahegao face you make,” he slapped your clit before dipping a finger into your needy cunt, his thumb now drawing eights on your sensitive nub, sending you over the edge.  “There we go,” he didn’t stop there, making you ride out your orgasm before his finger disappeared from your wet core, turning you around again to kiss you, chuckling at your pitiful whines. Always so needy for him. “Go grab your special box and come into the living room, I’ll be waiting for you,” Bakugo told you with a husky voice and your eyes landed on his dick imprint, mouth watering.  You didn’t need to be told twice, darting straight for the hidden silver box somewhere in your shared wardrobe.  When you entered the living room you noticed that Bakugo had striped down, now laying on the couch in his full glory. You made your way over to him, putting the box down on the couch table before crawling on top of him. He made you sit, his meat right between your labia, as he ground your hips onto him. Pulling you in for another kiss, his tongue slipped into your mouth and once again his hands were on your ass. How he loved squeezing it, massaging it between his big hands and feeling your body shutter whenever his fingers would stroker over the rim of your ass.  Bakugo flipped the two of you over, him now on top of you as his lips wandered down to your chest, licking your nipples through the lacy material, his hand opening the buttons of your body suit and exposing your wet cunt to him.  He sat up, looking you up and down yet again, not able to get enough of how good you looked, he was so lucky, he thought to himself. Katsuki opened the box, roaming through the different toys before pulling out the ones he liked to use the most on you.  “Ass in the air,” he ordered, pulling out the lube, dripping it on the black plug as you arched your back the way he loved it. He bit onto your left ass cheek before spitting onto your puckered hole, before you could feel the cold tip off the plug dipping into you. He twisted and turned it, not pushing it in completely but more and more every time he went in, cock throbbing whenever another moan slipped out of your mouth. With one final push the thick toy was buried snug inside of you, the dime adoring the end glowing in the red of the LED lights. Bakugo tapped on it a couple of times, wiggling it slightly looking at your glistening pussy, your wetness dripping down on the fabric beneath you.  “Hands,” he tapped your back, making you fold your arms behind it as anticipation grew inside your stomach. You wouldn’t dare to be bratty with him, not now. Way too many times had it backfired badly, leaving you hanging for sometimes a whole week and you couldn’t handle that happening right now, you were going to be his good girl so he would fuck you senseless.  Taking out the robes Bakugo tied your hands up, making sure they were tight enough before pulling out a paddle but deciding against it. If you were going to have an imprint on your ass then he wants it to be his hands, marking you as his in a place for only him to see. If only your friends knew how dirty you were.  He held you down with his hand between your shoulders as his hands abused your jiggling ass cheeks, spanking you over and over again. He might set off his quirk on the last spank, to make sure you couldn’t sit without thinking about the way he makes you feel.  Without warning he slammed into you, making you scream out his name. Bakugo pulled your body towards his with every thrust, his hand on your wrists, showing no mercy as he pounded into your cunt. He could sense you were embarrassed, biting your lip to muffle your moans, so your boyfriend pulled out completely, letting your upper body fall onto the couch. He grabbed the ball gag out of the box and pulled you up by your hair, wrapping it around your head.  “None of that, you’re a filthy little whore, stop trying to hide that,” the blond kissed your forehead before returning to his previous spot. His tip dipped into your wet walls, now teasing as if to warn you not to pull anything funny anymore. He knew he made you feel good but hearing it from you spurred him on even more. The living room was one of his favorite places to fuck you as he could see watch you in the reflection of the window and right now all he could see was how he fucked you stupid. Drool dripped down your chin and chest, your tongue out as the ball wouldn’t allow you to close your mouth. He loved seeing you so stuffed, every hole used as he used you however he wanted. Bakugo pulled on your restrains harder, pulling your body flush against him so could wrap his hands around you throat, squeezing tightly, your walls around him doing the same. It was his goal to make you cum as quick as possible, as many times as he could before he would. Taking a vibrator into his other hand he pushed it down on your clit, watching your eyes grew wide. There was no doubt in his mind that you pushed yourself down on his dick even harder, chasing your second high that crashed down with in seconds. Not waiting for you to come down he pulled out your plug, slowly inserting himself where the toy was just seconds ago, the vibrator falling onto the couch as his hands gripped your waist tightly. His crimson red eyes watched his thick shaft disappearing inside of you, ass jiggling every time he was balls deep inside of your tight hole.  “Fuck, you’re such a cock hungry slut, aren’t you? My good little bitch, so needy for her man to fuck her hard, hm?” he knew you couldn’t answer him, not in your current state. You looked so messy, mascara stains all over your cheeks as your tears mixed with your drool while he choked you hard enough to have you wear a turtle neck for the following days, unless you wanted everyone to know what he did. Katsuki untied your hands, pushing them down next to your head, his hands wrapped around your wrists as his body was now pressed against yours, his smell all you can register next to the extreme amount of pleasure filling every inch of your body.  “Gonna cum for me again? Can you do that?” he moaned into your ear, his hips slamming into yours. All you could was hum in agreement, feeling another knot in your stomach ready to explode. The muscular man kissed up and down your neck, feeling you clench around him, legs shaky as you were barely able to hold yourself up anymore. Bakugo found the still vibrating toy, pushing it into you this time and thrusting it in and out sloppily, making you scream out his name as good as you could while coming undone yet again.  He pulled out, standing up and stroking himself in front of you. “I’m not done yet, on your knees,” he ordered, pulling you down and propping you up the way he wanted. Unclasping the band that kept the ball inside your mouth he didn’t waste any time before pushing his swollen cock past your wet lips and down your throat. His hand was in your hair, pushing you down so the tip of your nose hit the skin above his meat. Bakugo thrusted in and out, your hooded eyes locked with his. All you could do is push out your tongue, knowing he loved you like that, on your knees, fucked stupid with only his dick and pleasure in your mind. The way Katsuki would grown every time he went down your throat made your pussy throb, craving more. It didn’t take long for him to pull out and cum all over your face. “Don’t swallow just yet, let me have a nice look first,” he told you, watching the vibrator slip out of your dripping cunt, your other hole clenching around nothing. He felt himself already hardening at the view again, but he had to take care of you first before making you ride him.  He picked you up in his strong arms, kissing your forehead. “You did so well for me princess, I’m so proud of you, let’s get you cleaned up, sounds good?” he asked, already on his way to the bathroom. “You won’t break up with me, right?” you suddenly asked him timidly, making him chuckle, the doubts of before filling your mind. “Definitely not, I plan on doing quite the opposite of it actually,” he told you, watching you as you tried to make out what he just told you.  “It means, I want to marry you dumbass, of course only if you’re up for it?” he planed on asking you tomorrow but he just couldn’t wait, the ring in his jacket basically burning a hole through the pocket.  “You’re not joking, right?” you asked him as he sat you down in the bathtub, pulling you into his body so he can clean you. “No Idiot, I mean it, you’re everything I ever wanted, you’re so patient with me and so understanding and I couldn’t handle a day without you by my side, so Y/N, I’m asking you will you become Mrs. Bakugo?” “Of course!” you told him with the biggest smile he has ever seen, eyes sparkling full of love as you pulled him the best you could, wincing as the pain of your bruising asscheeks made itself noticeable.  “Good, it would have been really embarrassing to return the ring tomorrow,” he told you, kissing your lips. 

©Kirishoshego//do not repost on any plattform

[bump1nthen1ght]

I’m Still Hurting (Orc x Reader) Part 2

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2107 words

Summary: You and your boyfriend establish a new normal

A/N: At long last, the highly requested part two! I had a bit of struggle coming up with a proper followup to the first part (which was part of why I left it with an open-ended ending in the first place lol). Little less angst this time, I felt these two deserved a little sweetness after the last chapter. Hope y'all enjoy!

Part 1

The first thing that caught your eye when you walked by the music store was the Grand Piano. It was gorgeous: Polished mahogany, a nice velvet seat, and keys that looked like they had never seen the sticky fingers of a curious 8 year old.

“Wow, is that new?”

You nod, admiring the old-fashioned air of the instrument. You knew jack shit about music, but even you could tell that this piano was an antique, one probably worth a good chunk of change.

“Must be. I’ve never seen it before and this place is on my way to work.”

Waruck hmms, pressing his hands up against the glass. His eyes sparkle when he sees the “Free to Play” sign right next to the piano. It probably reminds him of his Grandpa’s, the one he played when you guys visited his family for Christmas.

That was a long time ago.

“Want to go in?”

Waruck pulls away from the glass, eyebrows raised. He rubs the back of his neck and steps a couple feet back, trying to curb his enthusiasm.

“Uh, we don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind. It's been a while-” You pause, the slight-anxiety in the air making every casual word difficult, “It’s been a while since I’ve heard you play.”

Waruck smiles, small and polite, and opens the door of the shop for you. Before, he might have done a little bow and said “Ladies First” in a British accent.

But that was before, and this is now. Now, every comment is walking on eggshells, whispered tentatively and under your breath. Testing the waters for how comfortable you two could get around each other.

Still, it was exponential growth from two months ago.

--------

After your meeting at the coffee shop, you had asked Waruck for a month; A month of privacy, for you to collect your thoughts and feelings, to be alone for a bit. He had agreed immediately, shuffling out of the cafe with a hunched back and a melancholy air, but he had kept his promise. You took the time to focus on other things, shifting your relationship to the back of your mind and enjoying the day-to-day.

But a part of you felt a little bad, like maybe you were stringing Waruck along for an inevitable breakup. Getting his hopes up for an extra tortuous punishment that left a sour taste in your mouth. So on one brave Saturday night, you sent him a meme you saw on Instagram, one that reminded you of him.

That second month saw the two of you texting more and more frequently, sending little jokes, asking how your day was, so and so. Each week rebuilt a little bit more of that familiarity, that comfortableness. It finally got to the point where Waruck asked if you were free one weekend. He just wanted to get some lunch and stroll around the neighborhood for a bit. For the first time in a while, that idea didn’t seem too bad.

--------

The air is considerably cooler inside the store, a tiny bell ringing as a rush of air-conditioned air hits both of you. Waruck makes a beeline for the piano, his footsteps short and quick. You feel a smile crawl on your face; He always acted like an excited kid when it came to music.

Waruck plops down in the center of the stool, fingers lightly brushing over the keys in awe. You walk up the piano’s side, laying your hand on the wood and admiring the lack of smudge marks on the polished wood. Waruck tests out a G note and although the sound is short, it’s extremely pleasant. Waruck’s smile grows even larger.

“When I was a young boy…”

You mutter under your breath. Waruck chuckles, quickly continuing onto a G flat.

“My father took me into the city,” Waruck hums

“To see a marching band.” The two of you sing together, laughing a little bit too loudly and gaining a sharp look from the tired sales clerk. Waruck waves a little apology, but that playful grin stays on his face.

“Wow, that brings back some repressed Hot Topic memories.”

“Seriously. I can almost feel the book my band teacher used to thwack me with. Me and my buddies would sneak into the choir room and play that all the time.” Waruck’s fingers dance over a couple more notes, aimless.

You’ve always liked watching Waruck play. His fingers were so dextrous and controlled,  not to mention long and nicely articulated. He’d probably make good money from a hand-model side-gig.

“Want to take a seat?”

You shift your focus away from Waruck’s hands. He’s made space on the bench and pats the open space next to him.

“Yeah, sure.” You say, despite the fast pace your heart is now beating.

You keep a solid two inches of distance between your bodies, keeping your thighs together as to not brush your legs with his. It felt like a middle school dance, keeping a bible length away from your partner to avoid the disapproving stare of the chaperones.

Waruck nods, absentmindedly running his fingers up the scale. “Any requests?”

Immediately, all non-love songs depart from your brain. One of your favorite pieces sits on the tip of your tongue and your brain refuses to let it go. You shake your head.

“Nope. It’s all yours, music man.”

Waruck chuckles, a little louder and a lot more comfortable, as he sits deeper in his seat.

“Prepare,” Waruck cracks his knuckles, “to be amazed.”

You bite back a laugh. He’s still such a dork.

He starts to play, his hands easily finding the right keys, moving like a well-oiled machine. Your heart nearly skips a beat before it melts into a puddle of sentiment.

It���s your favorite.

The song brings back memories of your childhood, a rainy day in, and delicious food. It’s like chicken soup for the soul and you can feel any of the left over tension leave your body.

Waruck’s eyebrows furrow with concentration, but he has a large smile on his face, his large tusks peeking out from his lips. His arm stretches across the piano as the song hits its most fast-paced part. His biceps and shoulders lean more into your space, but the feeling isn’t unwelcome. It feels natural, as if his presence and yours is part of the piece itself.

Waruck’s thigh brushes against yours, but his pace doesn’t falter and neither does yours. You stay enraptured, watching how easily he slips into the music. You barely even notice how you have begun to lean closer to his side; Your mind says it’s to give his arms plenty of space to play, but it’s still far more comfortable than you are willing to admit.

How easy it feels, in the moment, to fall back into routine.

The song begins slowing to a stop, only a couple seconds left, when the sounds of the music shop return to you. A giggle from not too far rings discordant with Waruck’s piano.

Three girls stand not too far from you, watching with fascination as Waruck plays.

“Wow, he is so good!” One whispers to her friends.

There is nothing even remotely lascivious in their eyes or in their words, but a knife still twists in your gut. Your throat constricts as flashes of your bedroom, of unanswered texts, and a picture of a bar corner booth send needles down your spine and into your heart.

Is this wrong? Is this giddy feeling you have only distracting you from reality? Is it like this song, Waruck’s playing, beautiful but temporary?

“Ugh, I want what they have.”

“I know, right? How romantic.”

They’re wrong, you’re wrong, this is wrong; It’s fake, fake, fa-

Your eyes dart to and fro, trying to desperately avoid Waruck’s quickly overwhelming body heat and your audience, before it catches on the distorted shape of your reflection in the window.

The glass is old, slightly drooping, even the golden lettering of the music shop’s name looks dusty and sun-bleached.

But what is unmistakable is you and Waruck. Waruck, playing piano, and looking at you. Looking at you with the love in his eyes you thought had died, or had never been there at all. The group of girls stands in the background, small and out of focus.

And Waruck is staring at you.

“Are you okay?” Waruck asks, his warm hand on your shoulder.

You whip your neck around, almost getting whiplash.

You’re here, in the music store, with your boyfriend. He looks at you, brow slightly puzzled from your wild eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I,” You suck in a deep breath, “Sorry, I guess I got lost in my own head. That song gets me kind of nostalgic.”

Waruck pats your shoulder and you miss it’s heat when he pulls it back to his side. He smiles, but you can tell he is still slightly worried.

“No problem, I get it.”

You notice now how much closer Waruck is to you. His chest has shifted towards yours, the fabric of his shirt sleeve pressing against the skin of your bicep. Waruck’s knee absentmindedly knocks into yours, but the contact doesn’t sting or jolt you. Not even the continuing silence makes the situation awkward.

It’s nice.

“Do you want to check out the record aisle? They might actually have that piece on vinyl.”

Waruck gestures with his thumb to the piles of CD’s and records not too far from you two. You nod

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

--------

The two of you spend about an hour in the music store, pointing out hilarious cover art and admiring some vintage finds. Waruck even gets you to chuckle a couple of times, slowly bringing out his old cheesy puns.

Waruck’s missed this.

You two walk out of the music store at the tail end of one of Waruck’s jokes, you playfully punching his shoulder.

The two of you wander, in the opposite direction of your cars, for a little while. But Waruck hasn’t lost track of time; No, he’s soaking in every moment he can, every smile and lingering look you give him. Every reminder that this is real.

He spent a week agonizing over what he did. Stuck in silence as he gave you your space. His friends (His real friends, not those assholes from the bar) had offered to come by and keep him company, but he turned it down.

When Waruck got back into routine, it was slow-rolling. It was difficult to fight the instinct to check his phone for a good-morning text, or check your Instagram for any ‘post-breakup’ partying.

No, he had already broken your trust once. The least he could do was give you some time. Spend some hour not wallowing in self-pity, but actively make a change.

Waruck began to accept those invites to a chill hang out, playing some poker and sipping on beer with the gang. He played his keyboard when the thoughts got too loud and went jogging when the music wasn’t loud enough. He called his mom a couple of times, even sent his sister a  couple of texts to catch up. They hadn’t spoken outside of holidays for almost three years.

Maybe he was the one that needed time.

God, why did you have to be so smart?

“Oh shit, how long have we been walking?” You mutter, checking your watch for the time. Waruck turns around you, already knowing the answer was 27 minutes, exactly. The both of you were nearing the edge of the neighborhood, cafes and shops turning into residential suburbs. “Dang, time really flies, huh?”

Waruck smiles.

“With you? It always does.”

You give him a half smile, patting his bicep. “Oh my god, you’re such a cheeseball.”

Waruck winks and shoots you some finger guns.

“You know it babe.”

You giggle, checking your watch once more, face turning just a little bit.

“I should probably head back, I’m getting dinner with some friends tonight.”

A small part of Waruck yearns for more time, but he lets it go.

Space, this was about establishing space.

“I had a lot of fun today, Waruck.” You step a little closer, Waruck’s heart skips a beat.

“Me too.” He whispers, his breath catching as your fingers brush against his.

It’s a simple gesture, one you’ve down a million times. But when your palm slips into his, your finger’s interlocking, it’s like fireworks have gone off.

“Same time, next week?”

Waruck nods, not trusting himself to speak without a voice crack.

That’s all he needed, all you wanted; The promise of the future.

“Yes, I would love that.”

[justice4canyonmoon]

An Evening Off

Summary: Both Y/n and Harry have a rare night off. Y/n has relaxing plans for how they should spend it.

Notes: Howdy! This is probably the last fic I’m going to post for the next two weeks; I have finals for college next week, and I have a fuck ton of work this week because professors love to give students everything at once 🙃 Anyway, I came up with the very fluffy concept because I crave emotional intimacy, so I hope you like it!!!!

Warnings: cursing ig. otherwise just a lot of fluff and taking a bath together 🥰

WC: 1.9k

Y/n was feeling lonely.

Her boring ass office job didn’t produce too many friends for her. While the people she worked with weren’t the absolute worst, they were just, well, bland. Their lives were cookie-cutter. The closest thing any of them had experienced to a true adventure was a trip to IKEA. Her two best friends, Maria and José, were across the country, since she had moved from one coast to another to live with her boyfriend. Sure, she could FaceTime them, but it just wasn’t the same. And after the call, she knew she’d just be more lonely than before.

Harry wasn’t an option either. He was working, far too hard for her liking. She understood, of course; it was album crunch time. He had to make all of the last minute decisions: finalizing the tracklist, photoshoots, and touch-ups on the chosen tracks in the studio. But she missed him. The only times she saw him anymore was right before bed, when he would stumble into the room sleepily and kiss her forehead before going right to sleep. So yeah, she was a bit lonely. And being alone on her day off wasn’t exactly the plans she wanted to have.

Luckily, the universe decided to answer her pleas. At around 1:00, after she had finished up a late shower, her phone buzzed with a text from her beloved.

H: Hi, baby! The only thing we have left on the agenda today is touching up a couple of the album tracks, so I should be home a bit earlier :D If you’d like, I can pick up some dinner on the way home.

She couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across her face. For the first time in ages, the two of them could finally have some time together! Maybe she could do something nice for him! He had been working so hard lately, he deserved it. And honestly, she did, too. An idea popped into her head, and she threw open the bathroom closet, taking a look through her bath supplies. She grinned triumphantly as she pulled out a citrus bath bomb, knowing that Harry enjoyed the calming scent of orange and lemon. A nice bath would not only help Harry destress, but it would also be the perfect cure to the loneliness that was settling in her heart. She quickly texted Harry a reply as she set the bath bomb aside.

Y/n: Sorry about the wait, babe, was just taking a shower. Forgot to this morning lol

He answered pretty much right away, making her smile.

H: It’s okay, baby! No need for apologies :)

Y/n: Okay! I’m excited to actually get to spend some time with you! I could really go for curry, if you’re up for Indian takeout.

H: Curry sounds good to me! I’ll probably be home between 6 or 7! I have to go now, but I can’t wait to see you :) I love you so much!!!!

Y/n: Can’t wait to see you, either, Har!!! I love you, too 💕💕

“Baby, ‘m home!”

Y/n looked at the clock. It was 7:30, a bit later than what Harry had said through text, but still much earlier than usual. She leapt up from the couch and sprinted to the front door, tackling Harry in a hug. He laughed loudly and wound his free arm around her waist, not fully able to hug her back because of the takeout bag in his arms.

“Let me put the food down so I can give y’ a proper hug.”

She let go with a small pout on her face, which Harry promptly kissed off while setting the bag down. He then wrapped her in a tight, two-armed embrace. She melted at the contact, resting her head on his chest and hugging him back just as tightly. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then rested his head on top of hers.

“Miss you, Har,” she said, her speech slightly muffled from talking into his t-shirt.

She could feel him frown against her hair, “I miss y’ too, Y/n. The album should be done by the end of the month, and then ‘m all yours until tour starts.”

“Good. I was gonna break into the studio and steal you back myself if you weren’t done soon.”

He chuckled, “I don’ think Jeff would like that very much.”

“Fuck Jeff! I need you back here,” she scoffed.

“I certainly hope y’ don’ want t’ fuck Jeff.”

She rolled her eyes, “You’re annoying.”

He grinned cheekily, “But yet y’ still here.”

“Lord only knows why,” Y/n grumbled, though there was a smile on her face.

They pulled away reluctantly, both realizing how hungry they were. The two chowed down on chicken curry and naan while chatting about their day. Y/n spent most of her day off watching The Great British Bake-Off and snuggling with Daiquiri, their black lab. Harry had been putting the finishing touches on three of the album songs (“I can’ wait to play them f’ y’, baby”), and ranted about the traffic coming home (“I would’ve gotten home 45 minutes earlier, but the freeway was ridiculously clogged up!”). It was domestic in a way that Y/n never thought she would have, and she loved every second of it.

When everything from dinner was cleaned up, Y/n figured now was as good a time as any to reveal her plans for the rest of their evening.

“Hey, Har,” she paused, then continued when she heard his hum of acknowledgment, “would you want to take a bath with me?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Is this a ploy t’ get me naked?”

“No,” Y/n said bashfully, “I just thought it would be nice to take a bath together. I found a citrus bath bomb at the back of the closet, and I thought it would be relaxing for us.”

Harry’s eyes softened and he smiled gently at her, “That sounds perfect, love. Y’ too sweet.”

The two made their way to the bathroom, hand in hand. Y/n plucked the bath bomb from the closet and laid it in the tub, turning on the warm water. The water became a pastel shade of yellow, reflecting the lemony scent of the bath bomb. As she was checking the temperature, a pair of tattooed arms wrapped around her waist, and a kiss was pressed to her cheek. The heat radiating off of his body led her to believe that Harry had already rid himself of his clothes. When she turned around, her suspicions were confirmed.

“You work fast,” she commented, making a humming sound when the temperature was to her satisfaction.

“A bit,” he confirmed, leaning over to turn off the nozzle “just wanna take a bath with y’, love. Speaking of, let’s get those pesky clothes off of y’, shall we?”

Y/n nodded and Harry reached forward, almost reverently lifting her (his) sweatshirt over her head. She shimmied out of her leggings and removed her undergarments. She stepped into the bath first, gesturing for him to follow. He obeyed, and sat between her legs, resting his head on her shoulder. The two sat in silence for a while, basking in each other’s company. Y/n couldn’t remember a time where she had felt this at peace. But she also knew that Harry had forgotten to shower that morning since he was nearly late to the studio, so she reached over and grabbed some soap and a washcloth. She looked down at him and giggled softly when she realized he was almost asleep

“Wake up, baby,” she crooned, “let me wash you.”

“‘M awake,” he muttered, “promise.”

“Sure you are, that’s why your eyes are closed,” Y/n teased.

He only hummed in response, making her giggle again. She kissed his forehead and began washing him gently. The soft circles she was rubbing into his skin with the washcloth were soothing, and a sleepy smile made its way onto his face.

“‘Y always take such good care of me. Dunno how I got s’ lucky.”

Y/n felt her face grow warm as she reached for the shampoo, “I think I’m the lucky one. You always take care of me, too.”

She began rubbing the shampoo into his silky locks. Breathy gasps fell from his lips as she tugged lightly as his hair, working the shampoo into his curls.

“Feels s’ good,” he murmured.

“Glad you’re feeling good, Har,” Y/n replied in a hushed tone.

She rinsed his hair and repeated the process with the conditioner. By the time she had finished, Harry had fully fallen asleep on her shoulder. She cooed softly at how adorable he looked. He was like an angel; his long lashes were speckled with little water drops, his wet hair stuck to his forehead in an oddly endearing way, and a small smile was spread across his lips. He looked so relaxed in a way that Y/n hadn’t seen in a while. The bath helped her feel more at ease too; the monotonous motions of washing Harry made the stress from her job melt away, and the loneliness that had plagued her earlier in the day was washed away by the warm water. But she knew she had to wake Harry. She wasn’t quite strong enough to carry all six feet of him back to their bedroom.

Y/n gently jostled his shoulder and whispered, “Harry. Need you to wake up, baby.”

He groaned softly, making her giggle softly once more. His eyes slowly blinked open to reveal his jade irises, and he stumbled his way out of the tub, making her laugh a little harder as she followed. Y/n got out two towels and dried them both off, knowing that Harry was much too tired to do it on his own. She took his hand and walked toward their bedroom.

When they reached the bedroom, Y/n guided Harry to sit on the bed while she picked out sweats for both of them to wear to sleep (she knew that Harry had a particular fondness for when she wore his clothes to bed, so she got out his clothes for both of them). Harry pliantly moved his limbs as she clothed him, and watched her with moony eyes as she pulled on her own sleepwear.

“Look s’ pretty in m’ clothes, love,” he complimented, relishing in the shy smile that appeared on her face.

“Thank you, Har. Let’s get you to bed, okay?” she replied.

Y/n turned off the light and joined Harry on the bed. He was already lying on his side, so she wound her arms around his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades. Usually, he was the big spoon, but with the whole mood they had set all night, it just felt right for her to be the one cuddling him. Y/n barely heard Harry mumble a “g’night. Love you,” before his breathing evened out. She smiled and closed her eyes, reflecting on the day. Just spending one evening with her boyfriend made her feel right as rain, and the loneliness that had once threatened to overtake her was totally gone. Though she had been taking care of him that night, he was also taking care of her. And sure, they were both going back to work tomorrow, but in two weeks, Harry would be done with the album and would be all hers. When sleep finally overtook her, all she had were the most pleasant of dreams.

[eskelstits]

Okay okay so hear me out:

Jaskier has been acting odd lately, though the bard was either too shy or too stubborn to acknowledge it. At the very least, he was stubborn fool for thinking Geralt, of all people, wouldn’t take notice. Jaskier had suddenly become adamant about more generous rations for his Witcher, started to insist on larger dinners at taverns, and was always quick to suggest another round of food and drink— only to insist that Geralt finish it. The witcher pretended not to notice the way Jaskier watched intently while he ate and hid his wry amusement when the bard hurriedly looked away upon being caught. Geralt had so far played along with these antics in feigned ignorance, admittedly feeling a small thrill as his body started to bulk and strain against his armor. And now that he was paying closer attention, he found himself fond of just how delicate his bard looked by comparison. Armed with his suspicions of what Jaskier is up to, Geralt decides to satisfy his curiosity by embracing the bard’s antics and seeing just how much he can him squirm.

I was thinking some stuffing and size kink ~ with increasingly daring taunts thrown from both sides of the table bc let’s be real neither of the boys would give in easily.

THANK YOU i definitely had fun with this prompt

[ masterpost - ao3 ]

"Are you ill?" Geralt asked the question hunched over the plate of eggs and bacon he was enjoying for his breakfast.

More accurately, Jaskier's breakfast. Geralt had already finished his own serving, but then Jaskier had deftly stacked his own half-full plate on top of Geralt's empty one. To be fair, as it turned out, that particular tavern did tend to dish out surprisingly hearty portions, and Geralt had to remind himself that Jaskier was not a witcher, and therefore did not have the appetite of one. It was not the only occasion on which Jaskier had passed off a good fraction of his food to Geralt, however.

In fact, it seemed to be happening more and more frequently lately. He would demand seconds, larger portions, extra bread or more ale, only to immediately claim that he was full and offer it up to Geralt. After a tough life of fighting for survival, Geralt was a rather opportunistic eater, and so he always took advantage of Jaskier's leftovers. It was … strange, but Geralt could not say he exactly minded it. He did like going to bed warm and satiated rather than starving, tossing and turning and kept awake by his growling stomach. The only thing that really puzzled Geralt was the staring. Jaskier would look at him like Geralt was the most fascinating thing on the Continent whenever they sat down together to eat, but as Geralt had recently discovered, Jaskier would always quickly look away the moment Geralt met his eye.

Jaskier gaped and sputtered for a moment, eyes wide and hand settled over his chest as though Geralt had just viciously insulted him.

"Ill? Geralt, you wound me. I will have you know that I'm positively glowing with good health," Jaskier huffed.

Geralt grunted. Eyes narrowed, he examined Jaskier for just a brief moment longer, then bowed his head again to continue eating. Out of the edge of his vision, he could see Jaskier watching him.

Geralt had been willing to ignore the odd behavior up until his trousers started feeling tight. He still was not quite upset. It was not an overly drastic change, just a slight layer of padding over top of his muscles, making him look more like he did after he had been settled for a while over the winters he spent at Kaer Morhen, but there was a definite difference. Jaskier seemed to be noticing, too. Though he had not said anything about it, he still stared, and whenever he and Geralt fell into bed together, the bard's hands smoothed all over him, wordlessly worshiping Geralt's fuller frame.

Geralt enjoyed it, too. He had always been broader than Jaskier, but putting on a bit of weight had only highlighted that contrast. The day before, Geralt had caught a glimpse of his reflection looming behind Jaskier's in the mirror as the bard stood there checking over his own outfit for the evening's performance, and he had looked almost … delicate in comparison to Geralt. The sight had ignited something deep and primal and exciting in his core, and he wanted to chase that thrill.

No, he was far from upset. He was curious, though. While he had pieced together what was happening, there was still one more question: Was Jaskier doing it on purpose? Geralt supposed he could simply ask, but the thought of setting himself up for vulnerability like that was horrific. He had to find some other way to weasel out the truth. He had to beat Jaskier at his own game.

"Do I look different to you?" Geralt dared to ask that evening while they waited for the barmaid to come back with their dinner order. Jaskier looked anxious for just a brief second, but then he relaxed again and hummed inquisitively as he scanned Geralt's face.

"Is that a new doublet? Oh! Have you trimmed your beard?" Jaskier said.

Geralt hummed. By trade, Jaskier was a performer, but Geralt knew him well enough to be able to tell when he was lying -- or 'acting,' as Jaskier often corrected him. Two could play that game. Feigning ignorance, Geralt nodded and falsely agreed that he had gone to a barber, and he watched Jaskier decompress with relief. When the barmaid returned and set a full plate down in front of each of them, Geralt cleared his throat to get her attention.

"I want another," he said, pointing to his own plate.

"Ah … Another leg of chicken?" The barmaid looked a bit confused, like she was hesitant to believe that Geralt had been referring to the entire meal.

"No. Another plate," Geralt insisted. A brief pause, and he tacked on, "Please."

The barmaid blinked, but she chose not to argue. Rather, she nodded and scurried back to the kitchen. When Geralt looked back towards Jaskier, the bard was staring. Again.

"... Hungry, are you?" Jaskier questioned.

"Very."

Geralt held Jaskier's gaze for a moment longer and watched as just a hint of color began creeping over the bard's cheeks. Without another word, Geralt began to eat. He tore into the half chicken and the hearty portion of roast vegetables he had in front of him, and each time he glanced up, he found Jaskier trying and ultimately failing to be subtle about the fact that he was watching Geralt like a hawk. Geralt thought that he would have wanted to shy away before he managed to get his questions answered, but that was not the case. In reality, he actually liked the attention, those enraptured eyes fixed on him making him feel alight with a strange mixture of pleasure and shame. The barmaid came back with the rest of the food Geralt had requested, and she set it down quickly almost as though afraid of getting bitten if she ventured too close. Geralt grunted his thanks around a full mouth. Jaskier had been uncharacteristically silent the entire time, all the way up until Geralt finally broke for air and a drink of ale.

“Are you … sure you’re going to be able to finish all of that?” Jaskier sounded both tentative and almost laughably eager.

“Yes,” Geralt answered.

He met Jaskier’s eye again, his gaze dark and smoldering. The bard’s throat bobbed enticingly when he swallowed, and Geralt only barely held back a smirk. Whether or not Jaskier had been feeding Geralt up on purpose, it was obvious that he enjoyed the show, and it was always fun for Geralt to try and get him flustered.

“Ah, yes, well … I suppose you have had quite a healthy appetite lately,” Jaskier said. He spoke hesitantly, testing his luck. Geralt pushed right back.

“Someone has to eat all your leftovers.”

“Mm, yes. You are rather good for that.”

Geralt made it about halfway through his second plate before Jaskier was getting restless again. The bard still had some food remaining on his own plate, and judging from the way he kept glancing between it and Geralt and tapping his fingers anxiously against the table, he was hoping to see the witcher finish it off for him.

“Going to eat that?” Geralt spoke around a mouthful of chicken.

He had inched past satisfied a few bites ago, but he could keep going comfortably enough, and he so desperately wanted to see how Jaskier was going to react to his more deliberate goading. Geralt watched while Jaskier blushed and tried his best to act as though he had not been hoping to hear that exact question. It had been painfully obvious. Their many years together had given Geralt the ability to be able to read Jaskier like an open book. Sometimes, it was useful, likely saving Jaskier from some fights when Geralt was able to pick up on the body language that meant foolish determination or rising anger, but other times, like in that moment, it was simply amusing.

“Come now, love, you can’t possibly still be hungry,” Jaskier teased. Somewhat unexpectedly, it sent a jolt down Geralt’s spine. The witcher made a noise somewhat like a little growl, and his pupils widened. Jaskier did a much poorer job of veiling his own smirk. Perfect. Geralt was baiting him, and he was falling for it so easily. “I know you’ve been eating a great deal lately, but honestly … you’re getting greedy.”

Geralt’s heart fluttered nearly as quickly as a human’s as Jaskier scraped the rest of his food onto Geralt’s plate. By then, Jaskier seemed to have accepted that it was useless to hide his interest. He sat with his elbows braced against the table and his jaw cradled in his palms, alluring blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on Geralt. Near the end of his meal, Geralt was at last starting to struggle, the fact that his armor clung to him a bit more than he would have preferred only keeping it pinned in the forefront of his mind just how full he was. Jaskier’s reddened cheeks had only grown more vivid, the color even dusting the tips of his ears. Geralt rarely saw the bard so silent, so unwaveringly focused, usually only when he was in the middle of a fit of intense writing inspiration, and while Geralt felt scrutinized, he was actually enjoying it. Feeling bold, he grunted around his last mouthful and then reclined back in his chair, hoping to give Jaskier a glimpse of his distended belly where it strained against his clothes. Judging from the look on the bard’s face, it had worked.

“Are you finally satisfied, then?” Jaskier asked, and something about his tone of voice had something hot and exciting churning in the pit of Geralt’s stomach. He sounded almost condescending, but in the most deliciously arousing way possible.

“Mhm.” It was little more than a grunt.

Jaskier evidently had very little regard for how sluggish Geralt was looking. Lithe fingers curled around Geralt’s wrist and tugged insistently, and although Geralt easily could have kept himself planted in place if he had truly wanted to, he allowed Jaskier to haul him up onto his feet and lead him upstairs. Such a short trip normally would never have affected him, but with a full stomach weighing him down, Geralt found himself panting softly by the time he and Jaskier had reached their room. Distracted by the unfamiliar feeling of his trousers digging into his skin so tightly that it was almost painful, Geralt had little time to react before he was suddenly backed up against the closed door and drawn into a heated kiss.

“Jask --” Geralt breathed, cut off abruptly by yet another kiss.

Clearly, he had guessed right. Jaskier did enjoy that display, even more than Geralt had been anticipating. Soon, Geralt gave up on speaking, and he yielded to the kiss, lips parting for a teasing swipe of Jaskier’s tongue through his mouth. There was a pleasant warmth against Geralt’s middle that he soon recognized as Jaskier’s hands, kneading gently through stiff leather.

“Look at you,” Jaskier murmured. Geralt bit back a dry remark about how it was difficult to do that with the bard plastered up against him. “You’re getting so big.”

A thrill ran through Geralt at that. He curled his hands around Jaskier’s slender hips and squeezed, drawing him in closer, and Jaskier gasped against his lips. In truth, Geralt did not look too terribly different than he usually did, but there had been a little tone of hopefulness in Jaskier’s voice, a subtle but unmistakable hint that he wanted more. The next few seconds seemed to blur together, but somehow, Geralt had ended up spread out on the bed, staring up into Jaskier’s darkened eyes where he had perched himself on Geralt’s hips. Jaskier’s usually agile fingers trembled with anticipation as he worked Geralt out of his armor, putting him on blatant display. Where he had once been all sharp angles and overly defined muscles, he had accumulated a small layer of padding, and most noticeable of all at the moment was the rounded curve of his belly, warm and full and demanding Jaskier’s complete attention. His hands smoothed over it, rubbing and exploring, interspersed with little appreciative pats and scratches.

“Knew you were doing it on purpose,” Geralt said. Much to his amusement, Jaskier actually looked shocked. “Weren’t very subtle about it.”

“Yes, well --” Jaskier paused, seeming to be struggling to decide on what to say. Eventually, he just huffed, then decided to deflect and taunted, “Are you sure you aren’t just a glutton?”

Geralt smirked. Without any warning, he rolled over, pinning Jaskier beneath him. He heard Jaskier’s pulse flutter. A heated fantasy sped through Geralt’s mind, thoughts of how easily he could subdue Jaskier, how much stronger and bigger Geralt was, how much deep trust it took for Jaskier to lay himself out so vulnerable for a witcher, a predator. Jaskier’s arms snaked around him, and his hands splayed out over Geralt’s shoulder blades. Geralt laid heavier against him and growled in his ear just to feel Jaskier squirm. Jaskier would be unable to get away even if he wanted to with Geralt’s full weight holding him down. Oddly, that was a deeply pleasurable thought, and Geralt had very quickly decided that he would take no issue with it if Jaskier wanted to keep feeding him, making him broader and heavier still, only further exaggerating that contrast between the two of them. If the way Geralt could feel Jaskier’s hardening cock digging into his thigh was any indication, they were in agreement on that.

“Going to get me something good for breakfast tomorrow?” Geralt purred into Jaskier’s ear.

Jaskier groaned, hooked his legs around Geralt’s waist to grind their hips together, and moved one hand to tangle into the witcher’s hair. His opposite hand snuck downwards, and he pinched at the slight, growing plushness at Geralt’s hip.

“Certainly. You’re just wasting away.”

Geralt’s mouth was far too busy then for any proper response.

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

One Night...

This is part 2 to One Night 12 Days Ago...

WARNINGS: Fluff, 18+ readers, smut, oral (f-receiving), unprotected sex, breast play, breastfeeding kink? Daddy!Bucky, Papa!Bucky, self loathing, own body shame, body worship

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

Bucky ignored the princess tiara that was sat on his head thanks to Morgan making him wear it (along with Sam and Steve), and focused on you and his little girl. Even though she was here and almost four months old, Bucky still couldn't believe she was actually real and all his and yours. She was perfect. You, we're perfect.

"Buck, you listening?" Steve nudged his friend.

Bucky blinked and tore his gaze away from you as you fed his daughter. "Hmm?"

"Course he ain't listening. Look at him, all lovesick puppy, drooling over his baby's mama." Sam teased before taking a swig of his beer.

Bucky let out a heavy sigh making both men laugh at him.

"Ignore him, Buck, he's just jealous." Steve smiled and put his hand on Bucky's shoulder. "How is fatherhood treating you?"

Bucky's lips stretched out into a giant grin. "It's great."

He really loved being a dad. The past year had been a roller-coaster of emotions, but Bucky didn't regret his decision he made that day you told him.

"And how's the new house coming along? Y/N said you've been working hard." Steve smiled, although he was a little disheartened he hadn't had the time recently to help you and Bucky out.

"Almost finished." Bucky grinned, "Just got the master bedroom and guest room to redecorate and then that's the whole house."

"Then you've got the yard to start." Sam reminded.

Bucky nodded, "Yeah... Gonna need all the help I can get with that." He chuckled.

"I've got some time off coming up, Bucky. I'll come visit you guys and help out." Steve smiled proudly at his best friend.

"Me too." Sam offered, "Plus, we could always get Groot to help out." The three men burst out laughing together.

"... It's our one year anniversary tomorrow," Bucky smiled. "I'm gonna-"

A high pitched wail cut Bucky off and put him on high alert. "Oh, baby," You cooed softly as your little girl began crying. You stood up, rocking your daughter as big fat tears rolled down her cheeks. "Are those nasty teeth bugging you again." You spoke softly, "Shall we get papa to help? Hmm?"

Bucky's heart broke, "Duty calls." Bucky quickly jogged over to where you were. "Papa's here, princess," Bucky scooped his little girl up, kissing her little cheek softly before letting her suckle softly on his left index finger.

Who would have thought the hand Bucky was so scared of for all those years, would be the only thing to bring his little girl comfort.

Steve and Sam watched from afar, shaking their heads as they drank their beer.

"Ugh, it's sickening, isn't it?" Sam smirked.

Steve nodded and smiled to himself as he watched Bucky calm your daughter down like a pro. "Disgusting really."

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

Pepper was looking after your little girl, Bucky was downstairs cooking your anniversary meal whilst you were stood in front of your floor length mirror frowning.

All day you'd been excited for tonight, you'd even bought yourself a new dress. But then you put it on and began to doubt the decision because of the way you felt you looked. Bucky was a fool to be with you. Not that he had any choice. He'd be better off with someone different. God, you hated yourself.

"Why are you crying?"

You looked up from your reflection and met Bucky's eyes in the mirror, surprised by his presence. "Oh, hormones-"

"Don't." Bucky sighed as he stepped into your shared bedroom. "I know when you're lying, Y/N." He frowned softly at you as he came up behind you. He rested his hands on your hips and rested his chin on your shoulder. "You look beautiful." He whispered.

"I don't have any make up on yet, Buck." You scoffed and stepped out of his hold.

Bucky frowned, "You don't need it."

You scoffed again. "Right. Cause bags under the eyes is such a sexy look. Not that you'd know," You muttered.

"You don't have bags, Y/N. And, you never answered my question."

"It doesn't matter." You whispered, sitting down on your side of the bed.

"It does. If something has upset you, tell me, I can fix it and make it better." He smiled softly at you.

You shook your head, "You can't fix me, so... Just forget it."

Bucky stared at you with his mouth gaped. "Fix you? What are you talking about? You don't need to be fixed."

"Yes I do." You looked up at him. "My body has changed, it's saged and stretched and... I'm not, like you. I'm getting old..."

"You're still beautiful, Y/N. And, you're body changed because it was growing our little girl. It changed for the better. And, you haven't saged..." Bucky smiled as he walked up to you. He reached down and pulled you up onto your feet. He pinched your chin and lifted your face to look at him. "You're still the same woman I fell in love with."

Before any words could pass your lips Bucky kissed you deeply. Your hands moved up his sides and up to his shoulders, hugging him closer to you as Bucky held your face close to his.

"Let me show you," Bucky whispered against your lips. "Like you showed me, when I would feel down..." Bucky kissed you softly. "Let me love you..." He trailed his lips across your jaw and down the side of your neck, smirking against your skin as you let out a breathy moans, "... Like you love me."

"Yes," You crashed your mouth against his in a heavy kiss, pulling at his shirt.

You worked together to undress one another, your lips and teeth leaving trails across each other's skin with soft praises.

Bucky let out a soft moan as he knelt back from you, his hands sliding up your thighs as he took in your naked body underneath him. "I've missed you, baby," He leaned over and pressed a light kiss to your right hip and then your left before pressing one to the stretch marks just to the side of your belly button. "Your so beautiful... Even more than before... My sexy... Mama," Bucky smirked, kissing everywhere he could.

You let out a small giggle, pushing on his forehead to get him to stop. "Bucky, I need you... Please."

Bucky smirked as he leaned over you, "Gotta let daddy have a taste first, baby."

You let out a low moan and nodded as you bit your bottom lip.

Bucky moved back down your bottom. Lightly flicking his tongue over your nipples as he fif, smirking as you mewled and gasped at the sensation. He trailed his lips down your body until he came to your thighs. He lifted your legs and put them over his shoulders brfitr he dived right in.

"Fuck!" You cried out as Bucky devoured your cunt.

Bucky wasn't lying when he said he'd missed you. Since you'd given birth to your baby girl had been born, you'd put a wall up around yourself. You hardly showed your beautiful body off any more. He missed being intimate with you, and not just because the sex was always great. He missed showering or bathing with you. He missed laying around naked in bed doing nothing, laughing and making jokes, or walking around in your underwear as you talked first thing on a morning. He missed massaging your sore feet or painting your toe nails for you because you couldn't bend down to do them. He even missed when you did his that one time. He missed just being close to you.

You whined pushing yourself up on your elbows when Bucky pulled back just before you came.

Bucky chuckled as he pushed himself up. "What? You thought I was gonna let you cum just like that?" He winked.

"Tease," You pouted.

Bucky crawled over you until he came eye to eye with you. "Like you don't tease me." He grinned down at you and pressed a kiss to your lips.

"Please... Bucky," You breathed heavily as Bu KY trailed his lips down your throat.

Bucky smirked against you, "Think you're ready, baby? Shouldn't I open you up?"

"Just fuck me, Bucky," You moaned deeply as he lightly bit your shoulder. "Please."

Bucky crashed his his lips hard against yours as he slipped his cock through your slick pussy. You both moaned softly, hands holding each other closer.

You let out a long drawn out moan as Bucky slowly pushed the head of his cock inside your pussy.

"Fuck," You both moaned together.

You tightened your arms around Bucky's body, pulling him closer as he rolled his hips, pushing his cock deeper. Your nails dug into Bucky's back, leaving behind half moon crests.

"Fuck," Bucky panted, "Baby, you feel so good," He ran his nose along the length of your neck.

Your eyes rolled back as Bucky lightly bit your neck and lathered his tongue over the marks. You let out a soft gasp as you felt something wet smudge against Bucky's chest. "Buck, I'm-"

"Shit," Bucky pulled back and looked down to your chest. White droplets pebbled from your nipples. "Oh, baby," He whispered before he bent down and began to softly lick at your left nipple, moaning at the sweet taste of your milk. "... So... Good,"

You muttered and whimpered, wrapping your legs around Bucky's waist as he drove his hips harder into you. "Yes! Oh," Your eyes screwed shut as tingles ran across your skin. "Oh god, yes... Yes!" Your body spasmed as your toes curled and your orgasm ran through your body.

Bucky's stilled as he followed, breathing heavily against your neck and he squeezed your body against his. "Fuck," He kissed your shoulder softly and repeatedly. Bucky slowly and carefully pulled out of you as not to hurt your sensitive body and rolled over onto his side. "I-"

The scent of something burning hit your nostrils. "Did you leave the oven-" Before you could finish the sound of the fire alarm cut you off.

"Oh, fuck!" Bucky quickly jumped out of bed, quickly grabbing his pants as he ran out the door.

You let out an amused giggle, slowly and carefully getting out of bed. You'd missed your body feeling this way. You missed being with Bucky.

"What the?" Your toes touched something as your feet touched the floor. You frowned softly at the small box on the floor.

Bucky huffed angrily as he slammed the burnt chicken down on the side. Everything was going perfect. "Damn it!"

"Bucky,"

"I'm sorry, baby, I fucked up." He sighed deeply and leaned against the counter so his back was to you. "What shall we do? Take out? Or, make a sandwich?" He huffed out a laugh before letting out a frustrated sigh.

You sighed softly, "Buck," You whispered, slowly walking around the counter until you came up behind him. "You didn't fuck up," You gently trailed your hands around Bucky's waist and over his toned stomach. "You got carried away." You giggled, pressing your lips against Bucky's naked back.

Bucky sighed. "M'sorry, doll, I wanted it to be special." He reached up with his flesh hand and took yours as they settled on his pecks.

You smiled against his back. "It is." You tapped your left hand against his chest. "See? I love you too, Bucky."

Bucky frowned and looked down. His eyes widened as he they landed on your ring finger. "God damn it," He groaned and took your left hand in his metal fingers. He looked over his shoulder and smirked at you. "We've still got dessert..."

[sarcasmandships]

honey and glass ~ spencer reid

i am in love with spencer reid but he only has eyes for jennifer jareau

spencer reid x reader angst + hurt/comfort (sorta, it’s all in first person but with no names/no specific descrptions)

song fic inspired by ‘honey and glass’ by peyton cardoza

word count: 4.8k

disclaimer: i do not ship jeid or think they had any chemistry but it’s a good opportunity for angst x

you know those kinds of girls who look like they're made of honey and glass like sticky sweet ash

it’s a summers night in california and i’m on the beach at sunset.

the sand is rough under my toes and a warm, gentle breeze blows a strand of my hair across my face; he lifts his hand to brush it away. tucking it behind my ear he stares down at me and the sun hits his face at a perfect angle, illuminating his hazel eyes like pools of honey. he leans in and i-

“ow!” i yelp, as morgan launches the volleyball at my head, “what was that for?”  

“come and play,” he laughs, waving me over to where he stands with emily and hotch.

i shake my head, “no, i don’t feel like it,” i mumble, massaging my left temple where the ball bounced off my skull.

morgan rolls his eyes and jogs past where i’m sitting to collect the ball, “what’s up with you then?” he teases.

i shrug, “nothing. I’m just tired,” i say feigning an unconvincing yawn, “ask one of them to play.”  

i motion with my head towards spencer and jj, they’re down by the edge of the waves and she throws her head back and laughs at something he says. her sheets of blonde hair ripple through the wind and he looks at her in pure awe and amazement as she giggles at something he said.

“nah, don’t wanna interrupt the kid when he’s trying to make a move,” morgan shrugs, “come play with us, we need an extra person.”

an extra person.

right.

because what else am i but another body to fill the space?

“i don’t want to,” i say, forcing myself to tear my eyes away from jj and spencer as i stand up, “hotch said the jet is leaving first thing tomorrow, i’m gonna head back to the hotel and get some sleep.”

morgan says something, but i don’t register it as i allow myself one last glance at spencer and jj. she is trying to convince him to paddle in the waves with her, he shakes his head but when she takes his hand in hers i can tell he’s melting inside as he follows her into the water.

and i just know that he’d follow her so far out to sea that his head was underwater as long as she kept their hands intertwined.

i turn away from morgan so he doesn’t see the tears burning in my eyes.

and you can't get the taste off your tongue burnt sugar and a little bit of rum

we’re in a dimly lit bar somewhere.

hotch left hours ago, he wanted to take advantage of one of the rare nights he would be there to read jack a bedtime story.

rossi is at a table in the corner, sitting with a woman who has not-so-subtly draped her leg over him.

derek is out of my line of sight and i’m thankful for that.

emily, garcia, and jj are dancing.

i sit at the table with spencer, he’s drunk.

more tipsy than drunk i think, but he so rarely drinks anything that the sight of him swaying along to the music was an anomaly. i can’t ignore the fact that his eyes are firmly fixed on jj as she dances, and i grip my wine glass so tightly i half expect it to shatter in my hand.

he leans across to me and my heart skips a beat as i inhale the alcohol on his breath, “i’m in love with her, y’know,” he slurs.

“i know, spencer,” i smile sadly and down the rest of my wine.

he doesn’t even notice when i grab my coat from behind him and shuffle towards the door.

and she dances in the rain with her clothes on drenched to the bone never knows when she's all gone, she's the life of the party

spencer and i are watching the big bang theory.

neither of us particularly like it, but there aren’t many channels on our hotel room tv and spencer enjoys the physics references at least. i watch his face light up as a character mentions something about quantum theory that i cant understand, and spencer launches into a rant about the universe and the stars.

i don’t have the knowledge to keep up with him or the heart to tell him to stop so i sit and listen, admiring the way his eyes sparkle and his hands gesticulate when no one interrupts him with a deprecating comment.

we sit there like that for the rest of the night, in our respective twin beds with him telling me the secrets of the universe and me wondering how on earth i will ever get over him.

and deep down I know that nobody flinches when she takes off her clothes

“anything you like?” emily asks me through the dressing room curtain.

“i’m not sure…” i mumble in response, biting down on my lip as i stare at myself in the mirror, “i-i don’t think this is my colour.”

the dress looked so beautiful on the hanger, but now that it’s on my body the fabric bunches up in all the wrong places and i can’t recall a time that i’ve looked worse.

the lights are just washing you out, i tell myself.

you’re having a bad hair day, it would look better with your hair down, i tell myself.

you just need some lipstick, i tell myself.

but when jj announces she has found the perfect dress and i stick my head out of the curtain to see her, i am slapped in the face with the realisation that it isn’t the lighting or my lack of makeup it’s just me.

because jj looks beautiful as always, her dress hugs her waist and the skirt fans out around her as emily demands she gives us a spin. she isn’t wearing makeup, her hair is in a ponytail too, the lights don’t wash her out because she is radiant and flawless, and the lights aren’t the problem.

i am.

i cry in my car as i drive home from the mall, and when i get home i tear everything out of my fridge and fling it into the trashcan. i vow to go to the store and stock up on salad and chicken.

i go to the store but i don’t buy salad.

and I wonder what it's like to be one of those girls to sit in the sun and look at the world and never think, "wow, am i enough?" ‘cause life is easy when you know that you're the main character

i’m in hotch’s office as he grills me about a stupid mistake i made in the field. i can hardly focus on his words as i shrink back in the chair, counting all the reasons that i don’t deserve to be in this job.

i’m not as smart or fast or strong as the others. i don’t have an eidetic memory or hacker skills and i can’t even maintain myself as a solid average agent because i keep fucking up.

“i’m not going to write you up,” he says, and my heart soars a little in my chest, “but i need you to understand that if you do something like that again i won’t have any choice, you were lucky no one got hurt today.”

i nod silently and blink back the tears that threaten to spill over.

“go home, get some rest,” he says and i don’t hang around for a second longer, darting out of his office i crash headfirst into a tall frame.

“wow, slow down,” he chuckles, resting a hand on my shoulder to steady me.

“spencer,” i gasp, looking up at his sympathetic smile, “what are you still doing here? we landed hours ago….”

he shrugs, “i waited for you.”

my heart skips a beat.

“you didn’t have to do that.”

he shakes his head, “you’re my best friend, i wanted to. plus i thought you might need someone after being in there with hotch.”

i swallow and offer him a slightly forced smile.

best friend.

“thanks, spence, that means a lot.”

he looks at me quizzically.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing, just only jj calls me spence…anyways” he holds out his arm for me, “shall we go?”

i have to restrain myself from seizing his arm, and settle for tentatively wrapping my own around it, “thanks spencer…you’re such a good friend.”

he smiles down at me and its almost enough to melt away the icy feeling in my heart as i call him a friend. the coldness in my chest in my chest is a feeling i’ve grown accustomed to but when i’m with him everything is warm and bright again.

he feels like yellow.

and i feel like maybe i am enough.

and I'm sitting here thinking this is not fair

i feel like blue.

i’m alone in my apartment flicking through tv channels, trying to find something that isn’t a medical or crime drama. because after my day at work i can’t look at any more blood or dead bodies, even if its as fake as the pep in my voice when jj calls to ask if i’m okay.

“hotch grilled you pretty bad, huh? you sure you’re okay?”

“yeah, spence – spencer – waited for me and we went to get milkshakes after.”

“aww that’s so nice, you know i think he has a soft spot for you,” she teases.

something acidic bubbles in my throat, but i can’t tell her that i know she’s wrong because he spent half the night telling me how much he loves her. i have to gather the strength to respond without the venom in my heart poisoning my voice.

“oh, i don’t think so,” i laugh, “anyways, i should go – my movie is about to start.”

jj tells me to have a good night before she hangs up, and i switch off the tv. at this time there’s noting but romcoms and i don’t want to sit through hours of pining when its on replay every day at the office.

i watch my own reflection in the blank tv screen as sobs wrack my body.

but her smile makes it hard to be mad it's not her fault that I'm so fucking sad

jj holds me in her arms as i cry into her chest, “it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” she coos, rubbing soft circles on my back.

i sniffle against her and i just know that my eyes are puffy and red but i can’t switch off the floods of tears that fall from them.

“do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” she asks.

i shake my head against her because how could i tell her?

how could I tell her that the man i love is in love with her?

and that i want to resent her for it but i can’t because she’s such a good fucking friend that she’s sitting here with me, unknowingly wiping the tears that i can’t stop shedding because i can’t be her.

she gives me one of those heart warming smiles that could bring peace to a dying man, and in that moment i am reminded again of why he loves her. there are worse people to love, i suppose. if spencer is going to cut out his heart and give it to someone it might as well be someone like her.

but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

and i hate myself for the part of me that hates her. she’s done nothing wrong. it’s not her fault that that spencer loves her, and its not her fault that she doesn’t realise.

so I'll sit here and look at these girls in the sun dancing in the rain and just having their fun

i hate alaska.

my teeth chatter as we trudge through the snow filled field, and i pull the cuffs of my coat over my glove cladded hands. i hate the cold. i hate alaska. i hate the serial killer who dragged us all out here. i hate the impending snowstorm that was keeping the jet grounded for another night.

“should we even be out here?” i groan, “i mean if it’s not safe for the plane, then surely its not safe for us.”

“we aren’t 50,000 feet up in the sky though,” morgan says and i roll my eyes at him.

“it’s cold enough to make me feel like we are,” i huff.

spencer nods sympathetically at me, “i don’t like the cold either, not much snow in vegas.”

“i think we should have two behavioural analysis units,” i begin, “one to catch serial killers in cold climates, and the other in hot ones.”

he laughs, “i’d like that, but i think it’d just be us and garcia on the hot team.”

“we’d get by.”

he’s grinning at me, his messy brown curls are squashed down under his bobble hat but a few of them still manage to peak out. he’s wearing a multicoloured striped scarf and mismatched gloves.

a snowflake lands on his eyelash and i reach out to brush it off.

“thanks.”

“anytime.”

morgan launches a snowball at us, and it hits me in the back of the head, “hey! what is it with you and throwing things?” i snap.

morgan roars with laughter.

“not funny derek!”

he resumes his snowball fight with emily and jj and i draw my arms across my chest. i watch as they prance about in the snow, falling to avoid the snowballs launched by the others and laughing when they get hit. the sun is just starting to set, and it’s rays catch jj’s hair at the perfect angle, bouncing off the golden blonde strands as she dances around morgan. her and emily have joined forces to pelt him with snowballs.

i look up at spencer to see him starting at her in awe. his nose and cheeks are flushed from the cold, and the sun reflects against his own face, illuminating his eyes. they’re beautiful. like honey and glass.

“guys! come join us!” jj calls.

i shake my head, “there’s not enough money in the world.”

she pouts at me, “spence, please,” she says sweetly and before i know it he’s by her side and scooping up snow.

i watch from the side-lines.

spencer roars with laughter when emily hits morgan square in the face with a snowball, he wraps an arm around jj as she nearly collapses from laughter, something twinges in my stomach.

but he looks so happy, and that melts my glacier heart slightly.

maybe alaska wasn’t so bad after all.

and maybe one day, i can forget the past and be one of those girls of honey and glass

“nice to meet you, agent,” agent fitz says, holding out his hand, “we’ve heard good things about you up in the new york office.”

“really?” i say, shaking his hand and i can’t fight the smile that creeps across my face.

“really. give me a call if you ever fancy a change of scenery.”

“i’ll keep that in mind, agent fitz,” i give him a nod and a smile as he walks away.

new york was cold in the winter, but it didn’t seem like the worst place in the world.

but I think that it's hard for people to see that I love all these girls, and honestly it doesn't matter what you look like or how much you weigh

i wondered once how i’d ever get over my love for spencer reid, and now as he sits and sobs on my couch i realise that i don’t want to. it hurts me to love him, and something stabs my heart every time i catch him staring at her, but he deserves someone to love him like he loves her.

“i guess i’m just starting to realise that she’ll never love me back, and i don’t know why or what’s wrong with me,” he says and looks up at me, his eyes filled with tears and his face blotchy and red.

“there’s nothing wrong with you,” i say, wrapping an arm around him and wiping his tears, “sometimes the people you love just don’t love you back, but that’s not a reflection of you or your self-worth,” i reiterate to him the mantra i say in my mirror every morning.

he whimpers and my heart breaks for him.

“it doesn’t feel that way, it feels like i’m dying inside every time she talks about him or tells me about their dates, and i try to be a good friend but-”

his voice cracks and another sob escapes his chest and i tighten my grip around him; heartbreak doesn’t seem to get easier with age, because here we are, two fbi agents in our late twenties crying over our crushes like we are in junior high.

because before i know it the tears are flowing down my face faster than his and when he breaks away from our embrace to ask me why i’m crying, i can’t tell him it’s because i am feeling everything he is.

“i just don’t like seeing you like this,” is all i can muster up.

it's just that these girls know they're okay there's a beauty in knowing your place in the world in loving yourself and knowing your worth

“hey!” spencer greets me as he steps into the elevator with me.

“hi,” i mumble back, taking another sip of coffee from my travel cup.

we’ve been called in on a case, but i’ve barely had any sleep and i’m struggling to keep my eyes open.

“you look tired, are you okay?”

you look tired.

so the bags under my eyes were obvious then.

“yeah,” i say, swallowing the lump in my throat, “just a late night, y’know.”

“oh…oh! is that your way of saying your date went well?” he says with a coy grin.

“what?”

oh! something clicks in my brain and i understand what he means.

“no! not like that no…actually it didn’t go well at all, he turned out to be a total misogynistic creep,” i say with a bitter laugh.

“oh, i’m sorry….”

i shrug and take another swig of coffee, “it’s okay, you didn’t know. to be honest i’ll probably end up calling him again anyways.”

spencer stares at me, confused, “why would you do that?”

“well, i don’t exactly have guys falling over themselves for me, do i?”

spencer frowns and i can see his brain working overtime behind his eyes, “so you’re just going to settle for less than you deserve?”

“i don’t have many other options do i?”

he reaches out an arm to place a comforting hand on my shoulder, “don’t worry, you’ll find the right guy for you soon. it’s only a matter of time, you’re worth more than a misogynistic creep,” he squeezes my shoulder and before i know it we’ve already reached our floor and he’s gone.

you’ll meet the right guy for you soon.

what if i already have?

you don't have to be perfect or never get sad that's not what it means to be honey and glass

it’s late and i sit at my desk, sorting through piles of paperwork.

my eyes blur as i enter the gruesome details of our latest case, from fatigue or tears i can’t tell. i think emily and hotch are still hanging around the office somewhere, but the others had gone to dinner as soon as we landed, promising that they would do their paperwork tomorrow.

i knew i would have no appetite sitting across a table from spencer and jj so i had sat silently in the back of the suv as hotch drove us back to the office.

a singular tear rolls down my cheek and splatters on my page, smudging the not-quite-dry-yet ink. i let out a shaky breath and wipe my eyes, i don’t know why i’m crying really.

no one had necessarily done anything wrong. only when we were in the field and the unsub had detonated the bomb, spencer chose to push jj out of the way instead of me. i was lucky that one of the s.w.a.t agents had grabbed my arm in time and pulled me back to safety.

it had been hours and my ears were still ringing from the explosion.

maybe spencer thought he was closer to jj, that he had a better chance of saving her, we are trained to make difficult choices based on survival odds, i told myself.

only spencer hadn’t been closer to jj, and she was surrounded by three s.w.a.t agents whilst i only had one next to me. but no one had really done anything wrong, no one died, no one even broke a bone. and it pains me to admit to myself but had i been in spencer’s position and had to chose between saving him or morgan, i know that would pull spencer out of the way every single time.

i jump as emily creeps up behind me, “hey, you okay?”

i don’t even try and disguise my puffy, red eyes or tear tracks as i look up at her, “no. but i think that’s okay.”

and everyone has their highs and their lows the nights you spend crying, believe me, I know

it’s roslyn’s birthday.

i don’t think anyone else in the team knows because they keep exchanging looks whenever jj snaps at one of them and i can see the annoyance in their eyes.

when jj barks at spencer and snaps her pencil within the space of five minutes i drag her into a storage closet and wrap my arms around her.

“shhh,” i say soothingly, “it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

jj shakes her head, “i don’t think so, i thought this day would get easier with time but it’s just getting worse,” she sniffles.

i stroke her hair, “i know, i know its horrible and you deserve to cry as much as you want to. but you are so strong, and i know you can get through this-”

“i’m not,” jj shakes her head, “i’m not strong or brave or anything that you all think i am, i’m not like you I-”

“like me?” i question.

“you always hold yourself together, whenever there’s a case with a kid i’m falling to pieces but you keep it together. i mean i’m the one crying in a storage closet….”

i stare at her in disbelief, because jj is the strongest woman i know and i don’t understand how she can’t see that.

“i don’t have a sister who killed herself jj,” i say slowly, “you have survived 100% of the bad things that have happened to you because you’re a fighter, that makes you strong.”

she shakes her head and clings to me, “but i’ve lost pieces of myself, i’m not the same person i could’ve been if life had been kinder to me and that makes me sad. my sister is dead and that makes me sad, everyone thinks i’m this strong and perfect person and that makes me feel guilty because i can’t be that person.”

in a turn of events, she is crying into my chest, her hair is greasy, and her mascara runs and i realise that my best friend was never truly on the pedestal i placed her on. and i realise i am part of the problem, treating jj like she is the be all and all of perfection and unattainablity when i should just be treating her like a friend.

spencer loves her and that kills me but it’s not what’s important right now. i’ve spent too long inside my own head, struggling to view her as my best friend or the other woman but now i see that she is someone that needs my help.

i know what it’s like to cry myself to sleep so i don’t want jj to go through something like that alone. so i vow there and then, to push my own feelings aside and be whatever she needs me to be.

i don't want to be these girls for beauty or fame but for the confidence they have in their own damn name

“smile!” garcia says as she appears with a camera.

emily, jj, and morgan turn to face her and pose but i duck out of the frame. garcia pouts and morgan grabs onto my forearm to pull me back into shot. i wish that i had the self-confidence to let him, to fall in next to him and make a silly pose at the camera and not worry if my hair was sitting nicely or if i was breathing in enough.

“come on! i need pictures for my scrapbook and you’ve been dodging me all night!” she whines.

i stare down at my feet, “garcia i’m not photoshoot ready like these guys,” i say, trying to make my voice light and floaty but it just sounds like im choking back tears.

“come on, just one picture,” jj says kindly, waving for me to come and stand next to her.

i shake my head again and wring my hands. the last thing i need is another photograph of jj and i to compare myself to every time i’m feeling extra low and self-destructive.

i try and remember the vow i made, to be there for my friend despite my own feelings. but she isn’t sad anymore, she’s happy and smiling and drinking wine, me squeezing in between her and emily for a stupid photograph isn’t going to make or break her.

it’s just a stupid photograph.

“no thanks,” i choke, “i’m going to get another drink,” i scurry away to the kitchen before anyone can object.

i shut the door quickly behind me and press my back up against it, taking a deep breath. i can’t quite believe i was successful in escaping garcia again.

“are you avoid garcia and her camera too?”

“spencer!” i laugh shrilly, “i didn’t even see you there.”

“yeah, i’ve been hiding in here for a half hour,” he smiles sadly, “i hate having my picture taken, especially next to morgan. he makes me look even lankier if possible.”

i frown, spencer had no reason to feel insecure.

“why don’t we get garcia to take a picture of just us two?” i suggest nervously, “you won’t have any reason to feel insecure next to me….”

he looks at me quizzically, “what do you mean?”

i wring my hands again, “just that you’ll automatically look even better if i’m next to you…cos’ i’m…well y’know,” i say awkwardly motioning to my face and body.

he cocks his head to the side, “are you trying to tell me you think you’re ugly, so i’ll look better by comparison?”

i shrug.

“well, i think you look beautiful.”

so I'll sit here and look at these girls in the sun dancing in the rain and just having their fun

we’re on the plane journey home.

spencer and jj sit next to each other, their arms pressed together as they share the arm rest. spencer is reading a book; his eyes scan down the pages at lightening speed and i know he’ll be finished soon.

i am on the opposite side of the plane, i sit by myself, i like the space.

i keep my eye on them throughout the flight; just as i predicted, it doesn’t take long for spencer to finish his book and he places it down on the table in front of him. jj picks it up and teases him for the long-winded title, i don’t catch what she says, something about astrophysics.

he starts to ramble, and she interrupts him with another teasing remark, he flushes when she gently nudges his chest. i turn my head to stare out of the window, biting my lip.

they aren’t even doing anything, jj is just being friendly. and i still can’t handle it. i lie my head back against the headrest as i gaze out of the window, admiring the new york skyline as it fades into the distance.

a nervous chuckle from spencer snaps me out of my trance, and i look back over to see him and jj giggling secretively as she whispers something into his ear.

 “where are you going?” emily grumbles, she’s half asleep with her legs splayed out across two chairs when i accidently bump her foot.

 “bathroom,” i say quietly with a forced smile as i shuffle past jj and spencer, my heart seizing in my chest as she teases him about how long his hair is getting, brushing her hand through the curls.

i’m already silently sobbing in the bathroom so i miss the pitiful look that emily and morgan exchange.

and I know it doesn't make sense to forget the past but I promise, one day, you'll be honey and glass

“agent fitz?” i say, clutching my phone tight in my hand.

“ahh, i’ve been wondering when i’d be hearing from you.”

i laugh quietly, “yes, well i’ve been thinking about what you said, and i think i could do with that change of scenery now.”

i wrote this in a couple hours and didnt proof read so apologies for an errors :))

part 2

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝘽𝙐𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙀𝙔𝙀𝙎. ҂ 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢

back by popular demand! xx thank you for supporting my ramblings! this is kind of filler.. sorry...

pairing: dream x fm!reader

warnings: blood, slight angst, using ccs real names, guns

← previous chapter | ao3 | request |

Clay pushed himself to sit away from the wall, dragging you up with him. “How can you not hear that?” He urged mildly. Fear began to pick at your nerves as you noticed the same reactions filling the shelter. Nick stood up, following some of the other guys who heard whatever they were talking about. Clay slipped from your grasp. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered and you grabbed his hand. His eyes flashed a different color as he looked at you.

A few of the women followed the group, attempting to get their companion’s attention before one of them opened the shelter door.

Your eyes grew wide as the crowd moved from the shelter. It seemed that only the women in the bunker were protesting against leaving the shelter, the men focused on shrugging out of their hold. The night sky was lit up by a foreign object you had yet to lay eyes on, Clay’s figure blocking most of your vision as you were sandwiched between him and Nick. You could feel your heart beating in your ears, your grip tightening around Clay’s arm. 

The crowd spread out in the field near the bunker, gaze cast towards the northern sky where a large planet hovered on the horizon line. You covered your mouth in shock, slinking backward as a few of the women screamed. The bright spots on its surface reflected in the eyes of the men across the field from you. You yanked on Clay’s arm, attempting to pull him back into the safety of the bunker with you. 

He turned, an amazed smile flashing to his face as he looked down at you. It was only then that you noticed the crimson lines of blood draining from his ears. “Can you hear that?” He asked, voice raspy and verklempt. You furrowed your brows, your chest rising and falling unevenly as your mind raced to figure out what was happening. Clay’s soft hair moved in the night breeze, his features looking sharper as the light from the planet cast shadows across his face. 

His face dropped suddenly, his brows knitting together as his breathing seemed to slow. You reached out to touch his face but instead, his eyes rolled and he collapsed into your arms. Nick dropped to his knees beside you as well, forcing you to reach an arm out so he didn’t face plant in the dirt under your feet. You swore under your breath as Clay’s weight forced you into a sitting position. As you held him to your chest, keeping a tight grip on Nick’s t-shirt, you hiccuped, hot tears beginning to stream down your face. 

You sat, waiting for them to wake up, for what felt like hours. Various women were wailing, while others smoked stale cigarettes and paced, theorizing what the planet could be doing. You drug your fingers through Clay’s hair, your other hand cramping from its hold on Nick’s shirt. You’d pulled him closer to settle his head on your leg beside Clay. You felt like a mother hen guarding her chicks against the winter. 

You hated it. 

One woman stood with her hands on her lower back, staring up at the planet. Every few minutes, she held her palm out to it, spreading her fingers out wide before biting her cheek and continuing to stare. You inhaled and attempted to soothe yourself by holding the boys closer to you. “They’ll wake up,” she said, her voice breaking into a quietness you hadn’t realized had settled over the field. You looked up at her, rubbing your cheek on your sleeve to rid yourself of salty tear tracks. “The big one, he still has eye movement.” You looked down at Clay, noticing her fact. He looked as if he were dreaming up the plot of a new Lord of the Rings book. 

You sighed in relief, pressing your cheek against his forehead as your hand loosened on Nick, fingers brushing his collarbone softly. It was then that you realized how warm he was. Your brain switched into panic mode as you touched his forehead, his skin burning beneath your hand. You pulled his hat off his head and set about pulling his hoodie off. 

The woman joined you at your side. “He has a fever. We have to-” you bit your lip as more tears threatened to spill. You were so tired of crying, but for some reason, you couldn’t help it. Especially now, as the lives of the man you loved and a dear friend were literally in your hands. “We have to get it down,” you managed, fingers yanking at the material. “He could die.” 

The woman settled a hand on your shoulder, slowing your movements. She removed Nick’s hoodie, balling it up and pushing it beneath his head. “He’s going to be okay. Obviously, his body’s fighting something off,” she assured. “You should move around a bit. So your legs don’t go completely numb.” 

You shook your head, looking back toward the two. “No, I can’t leave them,” you answered softly. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her nod in understanding. “What were you doing over there?” You asked, nodding to where she was previously standing. 

She moved to sit cross-legged, turning her head to look back up at the planet. “I was seeing if it was moving,” she responded. “I swear I’ve seen it before. Like in a book or something.” You nodded at her words slightly. “I think it’s Callisto, one of Jupiter’s moons.” 

You dragged your sleeve across Clay’s cheek, wiping away the dried blood. “Callisto…” you repeated, attempting to jog your memory if you’d heard of it before. “So NASA was wrong, huh?” You joked, attempting to be light-hearted, but your voice reflected a dark sadness from the depths of your chest instead. 

She shrugged with a small grin on her face. “Unless it wiped us out completely as this is your hell for eternity.” You snapped your eyes to her, making her laugh. “I’m joking. Unless this is my hell,” she joshed. “It depends on what you believe is real or not, I guess.” 

You shut your eyes, a shaky breath rippling through you. “Please stop talking.” 

Before she could say something else, Clay’s eyes snapped open. He muttered your name almost as if he didn’t believe it was you. He turned his head towards where Nick was laying. “Nick?” His voice cracked slightly as he sat up. He looked at you as if asking what was happening before he turned to peer up at the planet again, his eyes shifting to a more brilliant green as if it evoked something within him. You watched his irises shift towards a glowing color before he looked at you again. 

Nick stirred in your arms before shivering. You rested your hand against his forehead once again, the heat of his body becoming more alarming. Clay was on his feet, looking quickly around the field as various people woke up, startled just as he was. You gently moved from beneath Nick, letting his head rest on his jacket as you moved to comfort Clay. He pulled you into his arms and you could hear his heart beat against his rib cage. Everything was beginning to happen so quickly as you stood on your toes to peer over Clay’s shoulder, watching as various men began to act strangely. 

You heard Nick mumble Clay’s name, causing you to break away from him to look behind you. As you did so, Nick grabbed your arm gently, his hand searing the flesh of your forearm. You let out a muted scream, yanking your hand from his as his worried eyes burned a bright orange.

THREE YEARS LATER

You tied your hair back, staring back at your reflection in the dirty mirror. It was the Callisto Anniversary, therefore you couldn’t help but think of what you used to look like; practically a child compared to who you were now. You almost glared at the scars on your arms from those nights when you all thought the world was ending. You wet your lips, tugging on your jacket and propping open the door of your bedroom before carrying yourself down the long hallway. Various people greeted you from their rooms as you passed by their opened doors. 

As you trudged down the various flights of stairs, you silently repeated the words of the cultists' propaganda posters covering the walls in the stairwell. You passed them every day; hating them more each time you saw them. You’d only let them hang the posters after they threatened to burn down the hotel, thus eliminating yours and several hundreds of other people’s homes and businesses. 

After the planet, which you now knew for sure was the moon Callisto, settled into the Earth’s night sky, reports of enlightened men popped up everywhere. The male population seemed to be a favorite of Callisto’s as most of them possessed some kind of power, whether useless or beneficial. Conspiracy theorists believed it was because of the creatures in the water beneath its surface attempting to create a new generation of Poseidon's sons. With the moon ruining Earth’s power supply, it was difficult to experiment and prove various theories. 

It’s the radiation, some would say. 

It’s a government conspiracy. 

It’s an alien experiment. 

You’d heard it all. The only thing you were certain of was what Eden told you, the woman you’d met when Callisto appeared. She was convinced of the Poseidon theory; though rather scornfully. “One more thing to strengthen male privilege...” She often accounted. She’d worked as a biology professor before the day of reckoning, therefore she could tell you the chicken came before the egg and you’d believe her. She explained the phenomenon of Callisto as a result of the ocean tides and gravitational pull, yet couldn’t figure out how Callisto could travel 4.3 AUs and why Earth would be its landing place. 

Your feet thumped against the cracked linoleum of the hotel lobby, the various dividers failing to provide sound barriers between the various groups of engineers and their counterparts as they worked and chattered. After finding the hotel, you’d given most of its space to Eden and her team as well as the brutes working for you. 

You grabbed an apple from one of the food stations before following the sound of Eden’s voice as she argued with someone about the patterns of Callisto in the sky. A radio lulled from the table in the middle of her chaos. She tugged her dull blonde/gray hair back into a ponytail before massaging her aging temples with two fingers. 

The front doors opened, ringing the small bell attached to one of the handles and drawing your attention. The group of men shrugged out of their wet jackets or shook out the rain out of their hair. You scanned the group from Clay’s white ski mask, an intimidating feature that signified who he was. Just as you had given up, he pushed through the crowd, pushing his mask on top of his head. You waved at him and he brightened before walking towards you. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, the smell of the Earth hanging against his damp clothing. 

“I saw something while I was out, and I’ve had a rough time keeping it in my head,” he stated with a slight chuckle, mindlessly asking you to follow him to one of the tables with a few workers. You watched him silently as he fished into the barrels of spare gun parts before throwing what he’d found on the table. The people around you paused what they were doing. Clay’s eyes began to glow, the green almost iridescent as the pieces began to morph together before shaping a new kind of gun. 

That’s really what your group was known for: arms manufacturing and dealing. 

Clay built them and you had the connections to sell them. On paper, it was simple. 

Clay held the gun in his hand, turning it over and looking down at you for praise. You furrowed your blows slightly. “Does it work?” You asked, making him shrug and bump a clip into it before firing it at one of the walls. 

You sighed. “How many times do we have to talk about shooting inside?” He giggled sheepishly at your words. You examined the gun in his large hand, trying to place where you had seen it before. It was a souped-up version of whatever you had previously seen. 

“Looks like a cop gun to me, Dream,” a familiar voice stated, making Clay chuckle proudly before looking up to see Nick with his arms crossed. Clay quickly tucked it into the back of his belt and Nick rolled his eyes. “Sorry, I meant to radio in on my way but I got caught in the storm.” 

You swatted off his apology and hugged him. “It’s good to see you, Sapnap,” Clay lightened. The boys had begun using their radio call names as if they got them from their mothers. “Happy Callisto Day,” Clay charmed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as Nick picked up a gun piece. 

Nick’s eyes flashed to the burn scar on your wrist from him. The fever he had was due to his power. Clay always teases him with nicknames like Prince Zuko and Warren Peace for it. “Have you guys seen Karl? I have a friend that figured out how to make something similar to nail polish.” 

You snorted. “He should be hovering around Eden,” you answered, gesturing to the opposite corner of the lobby space. 

After Nick parted, Clay turned back to you. “I think I found a way to get supplies into the East Sector…” he mumbled, just audible enough for you to hear. You perked an eyebrow at him. The East Sector had been closed off to any kind of weaponry, but that didn’t mean the demand wasn’t high. It was a farming community outside of the city where most of the religious zealots lived and based the Cult of Callisto. 

You chewed the inside of your cheek. “How dangerous is this  way  you’ve found?” 

Clay smirked slightly. “They call him Techno. He’s a chlorokinetic. Apparently, he kills people and turns them into plant food too,” he stated, wiggling his eyebrows. “Plus, he’s an enemy of Quackity’s group.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the table behind him. 

“So, pretty dangerous, then?” You simplified. 

He smiled slightly. “In a fun way…” 

[wonderlustlucas]

home - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.” ⇢ pairing hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 2.7k ⇢ genre fluff, kind of angsty? ⇢ warnings insinuated that this takes place during covid & that reader has some case of depression/anxiety i literally wrote her as me so like ⇢ summary In which Hyunjin shows you just how special you are.—college!au ⇢ a/n happy birthday to my love, my comfort, my home

What am I doing here?

Unfortunately, there is no one else to blame but herself for being left without plans on this Friday night. Regretfully so, she instead finds herself alone on the upper level of the business building. Scratch that, the whole building, probably – she’s been here since four, and the few students that were once alongside her left hours ago. Initially here to work on an essay, she now occupies her time bouncing between YouTube, Twitch, and Crunchyroll, watching whatever she is feeling at the moment despite Monday’s deadline looming over her.

Sighing, she looks away from a boring page of YouTube recommendations, stretches her neck, and reaches for her hot chocolate. Well, not hot anymore, she realizes with a wince after taking a sip, struggling to swallow the now cold drink. Gaze flicking to the time on the corner of her laptop, she frowns. 9:43. She considers walking home once it hits ten, the unstirred silence of the building starting to prick up her spine like needles. Home, she thinks with an amused exhale from her nose. A too small, overheated double dorm room that technically is a single now that her roommate has gone online for the rest of the semester. Home.

She wonders, briefly, if anyone were to miss her if she were to go home home. If anyone would even notice, anyway.

She wouldn’t expect them to, honestly. It’s not as if she goes out of her way to hang out with anyone, usually opting to cozy up in her room and pretend she does not see the groupchat blowing up with plans to meet at the dining hall, a study session at the library, a trip to the mall. She loves her friends, really, but can rarely find it in herself to actually participate in said friend activities. Sure, there are some nights she actually leaves the confines of her room to join them, but to be quite frank, she’s glad they have learned to simply stop inviting her. Makes the whole looking for an excuse problem a lot easier.

Besides, who would want to go out on a night like this, anyway?

Just as she has flipped to page fifty-three of The Old Man and the Sea, she looks away in boredom, instead opting to gaze out the window. Focusing past her reflection on the tall glass pane, a warm feeling she can only describe as peace seems to settle over her, watching the snow fall like moonlit glitter across campus. The snowstorm had started light when she first arrived, soft enough she could manage with her hood down, dotting her with only miniature droplets of water. Now, though, the flakes are so large she can focus on one at a time as they fly past, covering the ground with a solid two or three inches at this point. In the distance, she can spot snowplows making their rounds to clear the pathways, the route to the business building already turned slushy blue as salt melts the continuous snow.

She sighs, eyes wide like a child as she represses the urge to go outside and grab a handful of it, maybe fall onto one of the lawns and make a snow angel, stick her tongue out and try to catch one of the large flakes. Tomorrow, maybe, she thinks, looking at her grey sweatpants and deciding walking back with soaked pants in this weather would not be the best idea.

So late into March, she cannot help but chuckle at the number of students complaining about the snow and cold temperature on SnapChat, even her friends having to change their plans. She, on the other hand, finds such last chance snowstorm beautiful; sure, she was ready for spring and eventually a break from school, but watching the snow dancing under the streetlights, choreographed by the gentle wind, she thinks it’s something to hold on to, keep her grounded to reality that albeit the stress and monotony of college, such moments like these still exist.

She jumps at the sound of the front entrance slamming closed.

Who the hell? She frowns, annoyed at whoever decided now was a good time to come inside, subsequently ruining her little moment of serenity. Turning red at the thought of some raunchy couple thinking to spice things up in the presumably empty building, she considers packing her bag and heading out. But no matter which exit, they would still see her, and that would be painstakingly awkward. Maybe she could escape into one of the smaller reservation rooms, or at least make some exaggerated noise so they at least know they’re not alone.

Could just be a janitor, or maybe someone else deciding to shelter somewhere other than their dorm to buckle down and do some work, she thinks. No matter who it is and what their intentions are, her leg is already bouncing a mile a minute having gotten used to having the space to herself.

So caught up on how or when she should take her leave, she does not hear the footsteps coming up the stairs until they’re right behind her. Tensing up, she watches in the window’s reflection as the business building’s second occupant steps up onto the platform and… heads towards her. Panic setting in, she tries to decipher who it is through the blurry reflection but to no avail, heart racing at the thought of a stranger approaching her, one of her friends finding her here on a Friday night, a janitor going to ask her to leave.

She turns her head as soon as they stop beside her.

“Hyunjin?” She blurts, taken aback. This was the last person she expected to be here. Somewhat relieved but heart still beating in her throat, she blinks up at the tall boy to make sure it’s really him, brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing,” he returns, pulling his mask down below his chin and smiling cheekily at her. “I went to go pick up my food and saw you in the window,” Hyunjin explains, tugging the beanie off his head and shaking his hair out, showering her in the tiny droplets. Wrinkling her nose, she takes notice of the Chipotle bag in his hand and how soaked his coat is.

“Here,” she offers, reaching for the bag. Passing it to her with a grateful smile, Hyunjin unzips his coat and sets it over a chair beside her alongside his beanie, wipes the melted snow and sweat from his eyes, and tries to fix his now mused bangs. “So, what are you doing here?” He asks while doing this, regarding her with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Work,” she sighs. Then, glancing to the screen of her laptop and realizing it’s still the home page of YouTube, she grimaces. “Trying to do work. Not really. Just watching the snow.”

“It’s a lot prettier when you’re inside,” Hyunjin comments, following her gaze to watch the frenzy of snow before taking the bag from her and offering a quiet thanks. “But I meant more why are you here?”

She isn’t quite sure what her relationship with Hyunjin is. Having been one of the many acquaintances she barely made at freshman orientation, he did not seem like the kind of person she expected to still be in her life. She wouldn’t exactly say they were close, but she considers Hyunjin a friend, she thinks. After a good month or two forgetting he existed, she randomly bumped into him at the dining hall, recognizing that unfairly attractive face of his in line for chicken nuggets and immediately falling into conversation. Turns out, he was mutual friends with her lab partner, Kim Seungmin.

She does not see Hyunjin as much as she wishes she did. She had not shared any classes with him in the past three years, and even if her friend group and his overlapped in the slightest, it was not always a given that they both would be able to hang out as much as their closer friends do. Still, there always seems to be a random occasion, such as now, where they bump into one another. Each time is a pleasant surprise, of course, and not just because of his pretty face and wide shoulders, but because he has always seemed to care for her in a way no one else does, and that in itself is enough to have her heart racing every time he comes close.

Not that she has a crush on him or anything, but it definitely is hard trying not to fall in love every time he even so much as smiles at her.

Face heating up in embarrassment at his question, she avoids looking him in the eyes and randomly minimizes the Chrome tab on her laptop. “You know,” she drones on, “just taking it easy for the night.”

Hyunjin hums in agreement, opening the lid of his burrito bowl and stabbing a fork into the layers. Even her mouth waters. “I feel like I never see you,” he contemplates, finally taking a bite. His words surprise her. “Uh, yeah,” she coughs, forcing herself to look away before she gets too enraptured over how beautiful he looks even after trekking through a snowstorm, long hair messy but falling over his face in a way that has her fingers twitching to tuck away. “I usually don’t go out with everyone. Not my scene.”

“Aw,” he coos, “I get that. Sometimes I’m the same way, I just want to relax on the weekends after working so much all week.”

Thank you!, she almost shouts, but bites her tongue. She agrees, but even she does not know why she can’t find it in herself to go out and party with everyone else. She’s just lazy, to put it simply. Nevertheless, his words put her at ease, no longer worried that he might think she’s a loser for staying in every weekend.

“Exactly,” she agrees, “parties are fun, sometimes. But I just prefer laying low. I don’t think my friends like that, though.”

Gaze finding his, her heart does somersaults at the smile he offers. “Nah,” Hyunjin says, confident, “no one thinks that. Everyone has their way of having fun. Honestly, all I’ve ever heard is your friends complaining how they miss you and that you would make going out more fun since you’re so funny.”

“Which is true, by the way,” he adds.

She feels as if she is going to combust. “Oh,” she croaks, throat dry, “um, thank you. That’s sweet of them. And you. I guess I didn’t consider that they miss me when they go out.”

Hyunjin scoffs, raising a brow but finishes chewing before speaking again. “Are you nuts? You’re so fun to be around, of course they’re going to miss you.”

“Okay, stop that,” she laughs, burning from the inside out at his compliments. “Just being honest,” he laughs, opening the bag of his tortilla chips. “Want any?”

She looks at him with wide eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.”

“Okay,” she huffs out an airy laugh, rolling her chair closer to his. Miscalculating that he was going to move, too, she quite literally feels her blood pressure skyrocket as her knees bump into his. And he doesn’t move. “Here,” moving the bag closer to the edge of the table, Hyunjin glances at her for only a split second before focusing on his bowl again.

Reaching into the bag, she feels emboldened not only by his previous flattery, but his proximity as well, and scrambles to continue the conversation. “Why are you eating Chipotle so late?”

“Pre-birthday celebration. Also, DoorDash took forever,” Hyunjin laughs.

“When’s your birthday?” She asks, munching on a chip.

“In,” he pauses, tapping his phone, “two hours.”

Oh. “What?” She gasps, blinking at him. “What? Why aren’t you out? It’s your birthday weekend and you’re here eating Chipotle?”

“Woah, okay Miss I-Prefer-Laying-Low. Maybe I wanted to chill tonight, since tomorrow I’m going out? Hm?” Hyunjin chuckles at her scowl, pursing his lips. “Okay, yeah, I guess but—”

“No but’s,” he interrupts, the amused glint in his eyes disappearing, “I’m here now, and that’s what matters, right? I’m lucky I saw you in the window.”

“I guess,” she mutters, realizing her heart has not stopped its staccato frenzy since moving closer, “you scared me, by the way. I’ve been here alone for hours and suddenly someone is walking up to me, I think I shit my pants.”

Hyunjin bellows out a laugh, and such an airy sound momentarily leaves her awestruck. Oh, god, she’s in deep. It’s over.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he giggles, battling her hand to reach for a chip. Even the touch of his long fingers against hers has the entire butterfly population roaring to life in her gut. “Look, I made up for it by gifting you chips.”

“True,” she hums, licking residue salt off her fingers before leaning back in her chair to catch a breather. Too much physical contact and emotion for one night.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Hyunjin asks, taking her by surprise. Again. She thinks she is going to faint if she isn’t able to wrap herself around him within the next fifteen seconds.

“Um,” she starts, then remembers her previous idea of going home after this week was over. “I was probably going to go home next Friday.”

“Oh,” is all Hyunjin says, seemingly disappointed. “Why?”

She grits her teeth. Why? Really? “I don’t know,” she shrugs, not even convinced herself, “I’m bored and lonely here. I love everyone here but I miss my friends at home. I might as well be slightly less bored at home.” Hyunjin frowns.

“Okay, what about this,” he starts, leaning close enough she can count his individual eyelashes and nearly smell the flavor of his lip balm, “you go out with us tomorrow night and if you have fun, you hang out with us next weekend, too. Oh, and whenever you want some company, you text me and we’ll come here or somewhere else and do homework together or just chill. How does that sound?”

All she can do is blink at him. Her initial thought is how dare he try negotiating whether I go home or not? But, there it is, again, she realizes. That extra step he takes, the genuine care he shows her, acting like her well-being is his responsibility. “You don’t have to do that, Hyunjin. I don’t want to bother you every time I feel lonely. I’ll be fine.”

“Christ, you’re dense,” rolling his eyes, Hyunjin sets his fork down, wipes his hands on his thighs, and suddenly leans in to hold her face with both hands, “I wouldn’t offer to sit around and do homework with you when you’re in need of a friend if I didn’t want to.”

Her heart is racing so fast she fears he may be able to hear the thud of it against her chest. What he’s saying is starting to sound a lot more than some friend-to-friend comfort, and it’s making her head hurt, especially with his thumbs ever so slightly swiping against her cheeks. At her silence, he starts again.

“Y/N,” he says, voice dropping an octave, “don’t go home. This is your home, too, you just don’t want it to be.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she thinks she is going to say something, but nothing comes out. There is nothing to say. Hyunjin is right, he has read her like an open book, and he’s here to offer his shoulder to lean on. “Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll go out with everyone tomorrow. And I’ll try and stay here for the rest of the semester.”

“That’s my girl,” Hyunjin smiles, leaning closer and pressing a featherlight kiss to her lips. At first, it takes her by surprise. But then it all starts to make sense. The snow makes sense. Her essay makes sense. Being here makes sense. Hyunjin makes sense. His birthday makes sense. She makes sense.

Outside the glass windows, the wind starts to howl, blowing the composed ballet of snow to its final act, covering the pathways and the streetlights and the roof of the business building in perfect white glitter. Inside these windows, she realizes they would notice if she were to go home.

Why would she ever do that when her second home is right here in front of her?

[please-buckme]

Makeup.

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: Bucky and reader are old friends of a sort and have secretly, but not so secretly, had feelings for each other. What will arise when their feelings for each other are finally brought to the surface? Read the warnings and you’ll find out.

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Smut 18+ NSFW, a lil fluff, self hate, oral ( m receiving, f receiving) unprotected shmex

A/N: It’s been a minute, but I’m so excited to share this with you guys! Thank you @gogolucky13 for putting up with my constant self doubt and questions 😅❤️

The days dragged on as she worked tirelessly through the week. Once Friday hit, though, there was an excited heaviness that ran through her chest. Friday’s always excited her because Friday, of course, meant the weekend was here and so was the bottle of wine that awaited her at home.

This Friday, however, excited her for another reason: Bucky.

Bucky Barnes is the best friend of y/n’s, newly single, ex husband. She had despised her husband for many years, and for good reason.

Y/n was never allowed to do anything without her husband’s approval. Her ex had her stuck under his thumb for over ten years. She couldn’t go out with friends, had to dress appropriately; which to him meant a dress, stockings and heels. And she wouldn’t dare leave the house without makeup. If he were strict on her on one thing more so than anything, it was makeup.

When y/n woke up in the mornings she had to put makeup on before he saw her, or else he’d make nasty comments. In the beginning, the things he would say to her made her feel horrible. She felt like crawling into a whole and never coming out, to save people from seeing the bare skin of her face. But after a while she’d snap back saying things like ‘I only wish you’d wear makeup, I can’t bear looking at your ugly mug for another second.’ she was harsh, but he was far worse.

She hated her life with him. He was dreadful to be around and a horrible man to be married to. At times, y/n felt like the only good thing that came from there marriage was Bucky. The second they met she’d adored him. Bucky made her laugh, made her feel human anytime he came over, which was quite often. She never really understood why Bucky was friends with him, but she never questioned it. She loved Bucky’s company and missed him so much. Since she’d divorced her husband she hadn’t seen Bucky; it’d been almost a year.

She called Bucky the other day to let him know that her ex had left some stuff at her house and wondered if he’d pick it up. She was elated when he agreed to come.

Y/n had just gotten home when she’d heard Bucky at her door. Shit she cursed to herself, he’s early. Her hands began to shake while the butterflies in her stomach began to flutter. Taking in a few deep breaths and a calming voice telling her ‘you got this, now open the fucking door before he leaves’ , she opened the door.

“Oh god, Bucky,” She purred. He was dressed in a tight leather jacket, adorned with his shiny, muscular, metal arm on full display. She shamelessly looked him over, practically drooling over the greek-god-like man in front of her. “Are you trying to kill me?” She giggled, feeling the blush burn on her cheeks.

“No, of course not.” He laughed, showing off his beautiful smile. Y/n’s breath hitched in her throat, totally enamored by his natural beauty. She stopped laughing and looked towards the floor mat at the door, suddenly feeling self conscious. Before she could be consumed by her self doubting thoughts, bucky continued, “I rode my bike over, which I now know was kind of stupid. I hope you didn’t have too much for me to grab.” He gave her a toothy grin, leaning against the door frame.

“I guess you’ll just have to come back for the stuff you can’t get, which is totally fine by me.” she countered with a wink. His blue eyes bored into hers, making her stomach twist. She bit back a moan then realized she hadn’t invited him in yet, “Oh my gosh, please, come in. How rude of me.” Bucky laughed, following her into the house and closing the door behind him.

“I did just get home, so do you mind if I get dressed down?” She asked, fiddling with the pins in her hair.

“Oh no, go ahead,” He sent her a soft smile, “Just tell me where the stuff is and I will go ahead and bring it down to my bike.” She nodded and had him follow her to the master bedroom closet.

“It’s these four boxes and a few of these dress shirts that I know he needs. I’m just gonna throw away the others.” She smirked and Bucky chuckled.

“Well, since I brought my bike, I can grab two of the boxes and the shirts but I’ll have to come back for the others.” He scratched the back of his neck. He brought the bike to impress y/n, which he realized worked when she gave him a look that could kill, at the door. It took everything in him not to take her right there, same for y/n too. He was secretly praising himself for bringing the bike, too, because now he has an excuse to come back.

Y/n smirked, “Sounds good to me.” She paused, biting her lip as she watched him grab the boxes from the top shelf of the closet. “I’m gonna go take my makeup off now, you good?”

“All good, Doll.” She blushed at the nickname before disappearing to the bathroom. She did her whole unbeautify skin routine, then slipped on some comfy leggings and an old t-shirt. Bucky got her the t-shirt years ago and it’s one of her most cherished articles of clothing, she wonders if he’ll recognize it.

By the time she was done, Bucky had finished strapping the boxes to his bike and was sitting on her bed, facing the bathroom.

“All done?” They simultaneously asked each other, both of them shyly laughed. The room was dimly lit, making y/n wonder what it would be like falling asleep next to him.

“Hey, I remember that shirt. It still looks great on you. Best purchase I ever made.” He smiles weakly. He looks sorful, looking back on the memory wasn’t great for him. He was going to tell y/n of his feelings that day but chickened out. He’s regretted it ever since.

Her nerves got the best of her in that moment as she cleared her throat and laughed breathily, “Uh, thank you. It’s one of my favorites, actually.” Bucky was lost in his thoughts as he stared at her “So- you got it all?” She asked, timidly.

“Um, yeah. As much as I could. Is everything okay?” He asked, suddenly sounding concerned. She tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear.

“I.. uh, yeah- why?”

Bucky huffs, “oh, no reason I just noticed you changed but didn’t take your makeup off. ” The flush on her cheeks turns to a little pink tint, was he being serious or mocking her?

“Shut up.” She laughs off the comment.

“What? Did I say something?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I did take my makeup off. This is my face.” She says, framing her face and sucking in her cheeks and puckering her lips.

Bucky laughs, “I guess I didn’t notice. You’re just as beautiful with it off. Might as well not wear it, in my opinion.”

“W- what?” She was stunned. No one has, not even her ex, told her she was beautiful in years. As time went on she started to hate the way she looked. Sometimes she couldn’t even bring herself to look at her reflection, not disgusted but certainly not proud of her appearance.

To hear someone as handsome as Bucky say she was beautiful made tears well up in her eyes, because even though it was only a comment, y/n finally felt beautiful for the first time in a long time. “What did you just say?”

“I said you look beautiful, y/n.” Bucky visibly gulped, standing up from her bed. He’d always thought y/n was beautiful. The first day he saw her he felt his chest fill with butterflies and fuzzy, lovey-dovey feelings. Then, when he realized she was the one his best friend had been fawning over, he felt envy and jealousy trump the pure, sweet feelings he’d had before.

All he wanted, though, was for her to be happy and just wanted what she wanted. If she wanted to date his buddy, he wanted it for her too. If she wanted to marry his buddy, fuck it, he’ll be the best best man a guy could ask for. If she wanted to act like she was happy in your miserable marriage, then Bucky was right there to comfort her when she felt unwanted. So, when Bucky heard it was finally over, he couldn’t wait to show up at her doorstep as her knight in shining armor. To show her the love she deserved and never let her doubt her worth again.

When she came out of the bathroom without her makeup, he was a goner. He knew she wasn’t allowed to go without makeup around her husband. And seeing her without it just made him love her more. Not only for her beauty but for being so comfortable with him that she didn’t care if she had it on. Her being comfortable around him is all he could ever ask for.

Y/n felt shy in front of Bucky. In all honesty, Bucky always made her feel a little flustered. When he’d come over to hangout with her ex, he’d always spend a decent amount of time with her too. It never passed the point of ‘you’re my best friend's wife, so you’re off limits’. He had never complimented her, not really, too afraid he’d be crossing a line. Afraid that she’d never want him to talk to her again or even want him in her house. He’d tell her she looked nice. But beautiful? This was new and she liked it.

Y/n felt all the feelings she’d had for Bucky over the years creep up inside her, boiling over. A second ago she was worn out, had plans to eat leftovers and go to bed; now she had a taste for something more.. appetizing.

“Take your pants off.” She nearly growled, pulling her hair back into a messy bun.

“W- what? Are you-“

“Bucky, take them off or I’ll do it for you.”

This made Bucky grin, “I prefer the latter.”

A whimper left her lips as they walked towards each other, meeting in the center of her bedroom.

Y/n was hungry, almost desperate, to feel Bucky on her tongue. She sank to her knees and ran her hands along his outer legs, slowly. Bucky took his bottom lip between his teeth while running his fingers through her soft hair, gripping at the bun and yanking it just enough to have a whimper escape her lips.

“I’ve dreamed of this day for so long, but never in my wildest dreams could I have pictured such a beautiful sight.” Bucky whispered just before y/n ran her hands over his fully erect and still clothed cock; earning a hiss from the man above her.

Y/n timidly undid his zipper. She was trying to calm her nerves. She hadn’t had a man in her mouth in so long. She always enjoyed giving head but her ex was never really into it. She was nervous. Nervous because she didn’t want him to feel how eager she was. She didn’t want him to think of her as a slut who would let just anyone fuck her mouth. Bucky was special to her and she felt like, in some way, she needed to prove that. Bucky calling her beautiful though did send a shiver down her spine and caused a wet patch to grow in her underwear.

“I want you in my mouth, Buck.” Y/n moaned, reaching into his boxer and pulling him from his confined space. They both gasped. Bucky gasped at the feeling of her small hand wrapped around the base of his cock and the cool air that hit him when she pulled out his member. Y/n gasped at his size. Bucky’s cock was beautiful. It was soft but hard, intimidating but welcoming. His cock was begging to be touched as the veins protruded, pulsing in her hand. The tip was a painful red, leaking; crying for her to taste his precum. “Oh, god.” She exhaled.

“Like what you see, Doll?” He smirked, rubbing his calloused thumb over her cheek.

“I love it, Buck. May I?” She asked, stroking him softly. He nodded, still smirking. He grabbed her chin and brought her face to the tip of his cock. Y/n hummed, licking the precum from the slit and watching him bite his lip in approval.

“Don’t close your eyes, Buck. I want you to watch me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She giggled before kissing the tip of his cock and sliding it into her mouth.

“Fuck!” Bucky breathed. She worked his tip, loving the salty taste of his precum on her tongue. She sucked delicately which was nice but Bucky needed more. Purely by accident, if you ask him, he bucked his hips, causing his cock to hit the back of her throat. Y/n moaned her approval and that’s all Bucky needed. He grabbed the back of her head and slowly thrusted back and forth into her mouth.

It was killing him to go as slow as he was but he didn’t want y/n to feel any discomfort. He did as she asked, though, and never peeled his eyes from hers. He groaned when she removed him completely out of her mouth.

“Shit, did I do-”

“Fuck my mouth, Bucky, hard.” She said kissing and stroking his shaft.

“Oh god, are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t mind a little pain.” She smirked, leaving an open mouthed kiss to his tip and slipping him back into her mouth. Bucky didn’t hesitate, positioning his hands around her face and thrusting harder and faster. She gagged when he hit the back of her throat, sending vibrations through his body. Tears ran down her cheeks as drool ran down her chin.

“You’re takin me so well, Doll.” Bucky groaned. Y/n hollowed out her cheeks and sucked a little harder at his words of encouragement. “Oh shit. Just like that, just like that. I’m gonna cum.” Y/n moaned, rubbing her thighs together. “You want my cum, huh? Want me to cum in this pretty mouth?” She nodded, never taking her eyes from his as his orgasm approached.

Bucky’s thrusts became sloppy, hitting the back of her throat every time before pushing all the way in and holding himself in the back of her throat. He groaned and cursed loudly as his cum ran down her throat. “Oh, god!” He whimpered before realizing her. Y/n gasped and coughed once he exited her mouth.

Bucky couldn’t wait any longer as he pulled her to her feet and smashed their mouths together, immediately slipping his tongue into her mouth.

The taste of her mouth was heavenly, making him even dizzier than before. She was sweet like candy with a hint of saltiness from his spend. He was overwhelmed with her. He felt like he could melt into her touch, live inside her bones so they never had to part. Just thinking of having to leave her side frightened him. He couldn’t be without her touch now. Didn’t want to spend one more second of his life without her.

Y/n moaned into the kiss as she undid the zipper of his leather jacket. “As hot as you look in leather, I need to see you.” Bucky shuffled the jacket off his arms and lifted his arms so she could remove his shirt. She hummed, “You have no idea how badly I've wanted to touch you. So many years,” She kissed down his chest, “Watching you at pool parties, seeing the water glisten on your skin. When you’d help fix stuff around the house, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Especially when sweat trickled down your throat in the summer heat or when you drank water and the tiniest drop would spill from your lips just before you’d pour it over your head to cool off. It took everything in me not to touch you, Bucky.”

Just then, he yanked her up by her arm. He brought his forehead to hers, stifling his breath as he spoke, “I have no idea?” He asked, slipping her t-shirt off, revealing she had no bra on. Bucky groaned, “You think I didn’t notice the way you watched me? How hungry you looked when I’d slip my shirt off. It drove me crazy. I’ve wanted you since the second I met you.” He pinched her right nipple in his metal fingers, making her whimper, softly. “There isn’t one day that has passed since then where I hadn’t thought about you. Picturing you wrapped around my cock, screaming my name. Or wondering how you felt and taste when you cum on my tongue.” He kissed her left nipple now, making her shiver.

“Bucky.” She whined.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m gonna give you the life you deserve. You are my queen and I’m gonna treat you as such.” Before she could comprehend what was happening, Bucky had her in his arms and thrown to the bed. He removed her leggings and underwear in one quick movement, ripping them slightly, before spreading her legs with a loud groan and diving in. Licking a strip from her heat to her sensitive bud.

“Fuck, yes .” she hollered. Bucky hummed against her folds. He never would’ve guessed someone could taste so sweet, so delicious. He couldn’t help but stick his tongue as deep as he could into her heat. Y/n moved her hand into his hair and fucked his face, unable to control herself with how good his tongue felt inside her. “Yes, Bucky, yes.” She whimpered, more tears falling from her eyes as he sucked up all of her juices. She felt such a massive wave of pleasure like she had when he started suck on her clit, replacing his tongue with his fingers in her heat.

“You’re so sweet, y/n.” He groaned against her. “I could cum just by the taste of you.” She moaned at his praises and screamed when he sucked a little harder. “Cum on tongue, please.” Bucky begged and within seconds she’d reached her peak. Her legs trembled around his face as she desperately tried to keep them open. She could feel her juices gush around his fingers just before he removed them and sunk his tongue back in, licking up every ounce of her nectar.

Bucky was in heaven. Groaning his approval as he slippered up everything she could offer him. He was in a complete trance when he pulled his tongue from her heat. He needed more. He kitten licked at her sensitive bud, watching her shiver and squirm at his overstimulating actions.

“Please, Bucky I can’t - fuck .”

“Just one more.” He said between sucking and licking. “God, I could live on you alone. You’re drivin me crazy, Doll.” Y/n cried as the pleasure consumed her body, leading her to another mind numbing orgasm. Her hips bucked erratically into his mouth as she chased the high he’d just brought her to. Once he’d licked up all the juices from her again, he pulled away only to bring his cock to her throbbing entrance. Y/n felt dizzy, almost sick, from all the pleasure. She held her hand to his chest, panting,

“Bucky, please, kiss me.” She was exhausted. Bucky sucked all the juices and life out of her, but she wanted him. She wanted him now or more than ever. Bucky put on a lazy smile and leaned down to kiss her. Both of them moaned the second their lips met. The kiss was slow and passionate. Giving them both a headrush they’d never felt before. Tongues wandered and teeth clashed and bit. Lips puckered, pulled and sucked. Y/n had a strange feeling. A feeling like they’d done this before but in another life. Like they were always destined to be each other’s no matter the situation or time. She was his and he was hers. They would grow old together in this life and grow old in the next one too. Before she could stop the words she whispered, “I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky pulled back. She expected confusion or maybe mild discomfort, but Bucky just smiled and said, “I love you too, y/n. I love you so much.” They both laughed kissing each other even deeper. This is the moment they’d both been waiting for since day one and nothing could ever top this moment right here as they both held each other.

Y/n’s body powered through it’s tired state and the kiss had become needy and sloppy. “Fuck me, Bucky.” He chuckled softly as he pushed into her tight entrance. They both moaned into each other’s mouths as he pushed all the way in and stilled.

Bucky loved her so much. When she said those words he felt his heart drop into his stomach. He’d wanted to hear those words for so long and here they were, coming from the one person he loved most in the world. She was finally his and he was going to show her that. Show her that she belonged to him.

Once he felt her walls relax he pulled all the way out and slammed back in. Hips collided and breaths were shared as Bucky made her his. He groaned in her ear, the knot in her stomach tightened with every sound he made. “You’re mine.” He growled into the crook of her neck just before sucking on the pulse point on her neck.

“Yes, Bucky. I’m- I’m yours. Forever.” She smiled, so close to her climax when he rutted up into with new-found strength. He’d dreamed of this moment with her for so long and now here she was, underneath him, panting and about to cum for the third time tonight. The sounds he admitted from her were heavenly, pushing him closer to his release along with hers.

His metal fingers found her clit, rubbing needy circles over the sensitive bud. Her body jolted at the new sensation as screams of praise left her lips. Her words had become unintelligible as the knot in your stomach had finally snapped.

“Oh, god. Yes, baby. Cum all over my cock. You feel so good, so - good.” He whimpered. Her walls tightened around Bucky, adding to the pleasure, sending her into a trance of her own as her juices leaked all over the both of them.

She could feel the veins of his cock pulsating as his thrusts became sloppy once she came down from her high, signalling his high was about to hit him as well.

“Please, Bucky. Please cum inside me. I- I need to feel you cum inside me.” She panted, sucking at his earlobe.

“Oh, fuck!” He groaned loudly before filling her up with his spend. He rutted into her slowly, punching his thrusts with every sinful groan. Y/n watched Bucky as he lost control, it was beautiful. Someone so powerful and strong, crumbling before her, because of her. She rolled her hips up towards him, matching his thrusts. He whimpered at the action, making the knot grow in her stomach again. “You’re so perfect. So. Fucking. Perfect.” He punctuated every word with his hips smashing into hers. He continued his assault on her walls until it became too much.

His breathing was erratic above her, his face scrunched up as he came down from his highest of highs. Y/n smiled, running her hands over his chest and torso, so beautiful. Bucky lowered himself down to her, placing a kiss to her temple. Before he could pull out she stopped him.

“Don’t.” Her legs wrapped around his waist, securing him to her stretched hole. A gasp left both of their lips when she pushed him back in.

“What?” He asked, huffing out a breathy laugh.

“I just want to feel you inside me. I want to bask in this moment forever, with you.” She stared into his glossy blue eyes, getting washed away in his presents. She watched as his cheeks reddened, bowing his head and laughing. Bucky's bashfulness was breathtaking. Everything Bucky does makes her breath hitch in her throat.

“God, I love you, Y/n.” He breathed, kissing her lips, open mouthed and passionate.

I love you so much, Bucky. Never leave me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Doll”

//

Masterlist

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