#my hand is breaking from doing all that god awful coloring

[chexxmated]

album redraw

[0cta9on]

Masterpiece

length: +5k words

Genre: Fluff

Kiss Of Life Julie x Male Reader

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

The art club room was quiet, as it usually was on most afternoons. It was your only source of relief from the stress of grades, your parents, and daily life in general. Last year, when you were a junior, it used to be bustling with life, but after all your seniors graduated and your failure to recruit new members thanks to your social ineptitude, you were the art club’s sole member this year. It’s not like you minded - painting was easier when it was quiet and you practically never ran out of supplies since you were the only one using them.

You set up your canvas atop an easel and grabbed a tube for every paint color in case you needed it. The light of the sun shone through the window, inviting you to look outside for inspiration. With a deep breath and a clear mind, you gaze through the window pane in search of your next subject. A couple seconds of gazing turns into a minute. One minute turns into two. Two minutes turns into five. Five minutes turns into half an hour. Nothing. Looking out of that window five days a week for more than a year has completely drained the view of any inspiration. The wooded area beyond the school grounds has remained unchanged, and the school’s soccer field wasn’t exactly an enticing subject to paint. With a disappointed sigh, you decide to pack it in early tonight and head home. However, right as you start to pack up, you hear the door open abruptly.

“Oh, sorry, is this the wrong r- Woah.” The prettiest girl you have ever laid eyes on steps through the door, examining the various paintings adorning the walls of the art room with awe. “Oh my god, these are beautiful. Did you paint these?” she asks, directing her attention towards you.

You flinch, startled by the sudden question. “U-uh, a couple of them…” you manage to murmur out. Painting was one of the things you considered yourself to be good at. For others, it was studying or sports. For you, it was skillfully using a brush to fill a blank canvas with what you considered art. However, none of your pieces could even compare to the beauty of the girl standing before you.

“Wow, you’re really talented,” she says, flashing a wide grin at you that makes your heart skip a beat. “My name’s Julie, I just moved here recently.” She extends a welcoming hand towards you, which you ungracefully accept with a shaky hand.

“Th-thanks… I-I’m Choi Woohyuk. U-um, what are you doing here?” you ask her, silently praying that she is here to join the art club.

“Oh right, I was trying to find the room for the hip-hop club, but I guess I got lost.” Julie chuckles cutely at her mistake. Your heart sank a little, but her warm smile lifted your spirits instantly. A warm blush graces your cheeks as you mentally trace every detail of her face, afraid that she would disappear forever the second you blinked. Her silky auburn hair perfectly framed her face, the glistening pink hue of her lip gloss coated her plump lips which curled into a smile that made your heart soar, and the slight puffiness of her eyes made her look endearing, like a cat that just woke up from a nap.

“Uhh, Woohyuk? Are you alright?” she asks with a worried expression. You shake your head, embarrassed that you were caught staring.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. The hip-hop club is two doors down,” you answer, averting your gaze for fear of getting caught in another trance.

“That’s so close! I should stop by here every once in a while, this place is cool,” Julie giggles as she backs up towards the door, never breaking eye contact with you. “Thanks, Woohyuk! I’ll see you around!” she waves before shutting the door. 

You stand there in silence, taking in the brief yet memorable interaction. Without hesitation, you set up your canvas and your paints once again, reinvigorated with a new passion.

______________________________________________________________

You end up getting home an hour later than usual. Your parents had some stern words for you upon entering the door, but they believed the lie you told them about helping out a teacher after the art club ended. Truthfully, you lost track of time trying to paint Julie, but no amount of skill or experience could truly capture her essence. Was it creepy to try and paint a girl you just met? Maybe. Definitely. But this was the first time in a while that you felt truly inspired to paint, and with the school festival right around the corner, you needed something breathtaking to display amongst your other mundane pieces.

That night, you stared at the dark ceiling of your room, finding it impossible to sleep. The shadows began to shift, morphing into indecipherable shapes like different shades of black and navy spilled on a blank canvas. The splotches took a familiar form until you saw Julie’s magnificent face staring back at you. You couldn’t help but laugh as you contemplated whether or not you’d gone insane. No artist is ever fully sane, you thought before succumbing to the exhaustion and drifting gently into a peaceful slumber.

______________________________________________________________

As usual, you find yourself in the art club room after a particularly rough day of classes. If you weren’t daydreaming about Julie, you were dozing off in class and dreaming about her instead. To make matters worse, nearly all of your teachers called you out for not paying attention, adding another layer of embarrassment. You set up your equipment, hoping you’ll be able to forget about everything once you start painting. 

Just before the paint touches the canvas, you hesitate, glancing at the door with bated breath. As stupid as it was, you strained your mind, half convinced Julie would walk through the door if you willed hard enough. You get your hopes up as you hear footsteps walk by, but ultimately, you’re met with silence and disappointment as the door stares back at you as if taunting you with its stillness. A mix of emotions goes through your head as you look back to your blank canvas. 

She wasn’t coming back, and you felt like an idiot for getting so attached after one meeting. Rather than sitting around moping, you decide to cut yourself some slack - you would be surprised if someone didn’t fall in love after one look at her. With a sigh, you bring your brush back to the canvas, this time letting your heart do all the work instead of your head. Your arm moves with a mind of its own, tracing invisible lines and painting with pure intuition. This was the feeling you loved most while painting: Letting yourself get lost in the process without worrying about the final form. No planning, no second guessing, no expectations. In your heart, you knew that no matter how it looked, this would be your masterpiece.

Before you knew it, you were done. You straighten your spine, the pain in your lower back a sign of hard work.  Looking back at your now-filled canvas, you see a pair of eyes you hadn’t noticed before. Then, you see lips, shining as if they were coated with lip gloss made out of stars. Then, it’s strands of auburn hair, cascading down like a waterfall of reddish brown.

A face. You made a face. More specifically, it’s Julie’s face. And it was beautiful.

“Is that me?” 

A voice from behind you makes you jump, inadvertently knocking over your mini table full of supplies. Blotches of paint spray all over the tile floor and onto your pants. You look up at the source of the voice only to see the same familiar face on your canvas: Julie Han.

“I-I-I… U-um, i-it’s not…” You struggle to explain yourself, not a single eligible word escapes your lips. Somehow, Julie had managed to come into the art room without you knowing. You didn’t know how long she was there, but it was obvious she had seen your painting. There was no use hiding it.

During the commotion, paint had sprayed all over Julie’s legs and her shoes. You quickly grab a pack of wet wipes from the cupboard and offer it to her, your eyes glued to the floor.

“S-sorry…” you utter under your breath. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited for her to yell at you or call you a creep. The weight of the wet wipes left your hand, leaving you isolated with nothing to support you. You could do nothing but wait as your vision of the tiles on the floor began to blur together, creating an ugly blotch of black that glared at you with the sting of disapproval.

Like a ray of light in a dark tunnel, Julie’s voice shot through your worries. “That’s an amazing painting, Woohyuk.” You jerked your head up and saw her gazing at the canvas with deep admiration, too busy enjoying your work to care about the paint on her.

“R-really? Y-you don’t think it’s… creepy?” you ask. At this point, your heart stopped beating and you wondered if your mind was playing tricks on you before you faded into the afterlife.

“Creepy? Not at all, this is really cute. No one has ever painted me before. It’s really flattering.” Her eyes twinkled as she winked at you. Whether it was a trick of the light or just your imagination, it didn’t matter. “Sorry for startling you, I wanted to stop by after hip-hop club since I didn’t get the chance earlier.”

You took a deep breath, letting the familiar scent of the art room fill your lungs to help you calm down. “I-it’s fine. Sorry about your shoes…” you murmur with an apologetic look on your face. Julie glances down at her once-white shoes, now covered in a misshapen rainbow of color.

“It’s cool, I kinda like them better this way,” Julie says. “Why don’t you sign them?”

“W-what?” you asked, completely bewildered by her request.

“Don’t artists sign their paintings? It’s just like that, except I get to wear them every day.” She flashed you a bright smile that you just couldn’t say no to (Not that you would ever say no to her in the first place). You sheepishly grabbed a paintbrush and a tube of black paint, nodding at her. Julie stamps her foot on the stool you were using, and your neck immediately snaps to the side in an attempt to avoid accidentally looking up her skirt, eliciting a hearty laugh from her that rang through your ears.

“I’m wearing shorts underneath, silly,” she says, chuckling at you. With a careful glance, you see that she is in fact wearing black shorts underneath her skirt. A wave of embarrassment turns your cheeks pink as you dip your brush into the black paint. The closer your hand got to her shoe, the more you began to tremble, making it impossible for you to produce an eligible signature. 

“Am I making you nervous?” Julie teased with her sweet voice. You could only awkwardly chuckle in response, resorting to grabbing your wrist with your free hand and settling for a subpar signature. It certainly wasn’t your best work by any means, but the smile on her face as she looked down at her paint-splattered shoes made it all worth it.

“Thanks, Woohyuk! I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow!” She gave you one final wink before disappearing behind the closed door, leaving you stunned for the second day in a row. To you, Julie Han is an enigma. Not only was she absolutely gorgeous, but she was also eccentric, optimistic, and kind. How could someone so perfect appear in your life all of a sudden? Was this compensation for the years of suffering you have endured until now? It was simple - you were completely and utterly infatuated with her. As you cleaned the rest of the paint mess on the ground, you couldn’t help but contemplate whether you should be delighted at the prospect of seeing her again or terrified of the uncertainty surrounding the future.

______________________________________________________________

The math teacher’s unexpected illness and the lax attitude of the substitute gave you the perfect opportunity to sketch out your next piece during class. Sure, the painting of Julie you created yesterday was amazing, but you needed more than a single painting to showcase at the school festival next week. Unfortunately, it was difficult trying to capture her solely through memory and the sub doing nothing to control the now rowdy classroom only added to the difficulty. Suddenly, your notebook was forcefully torn away from you.

“Yah, Choi Woohyuk, what are you drawing?” Oh Yechan, the jerk who had been bullying you all throughout high school, chuckled as he gawked at your sketch with his stupid friends. “Isn’t this that new girl, Julie? What the fuck bro, are you stalking her or something?”

You felt the heat creeping up your neck with anger and embarrassment as the rest of the class started to pay attention to what was happening. The substitute had earbuds in, completely oblivious to the scene unfolding before him. All you could do was clench your fist and pray for a miracle.

“Not gonna lie, she is kinda hot though,” Yechan says, snickering. “We’re in the hip-hop club together, I might consider asking her out at the next meeting.” 

His words only make you angrier as your jaw clenches and your fingernails start to dig into your palm. “G-give me my notebook back…” You try your best to sound confident, but all that comes out of your mouth is a frightened stutter. Yechan smacks you in the head with your notebook, causing it to fall on the floor next to you. The sketch of Julie was crumpled and torn just like your self-esteem at this moment.

“You wanna say that again, you little shit?” He growls into your ear, spewing his hot breath in your face. You gulped, wanting to shrink and disappear forever. 

“He said to give him his notebook back, asshole.”

A hush fell over the room as a sweet yet stern voice was heard from the doorway. You glance over and see Julie, glaring angrily at Yechan as she stomps toward him.

“J-Julie, what are you doing he-” Yechan’s words are cut short with a smack to the face, courtesy of Julie’s hand. A chorus of “Ooohs” escaped everyone’s lips, and even the substitute became invested in this scene of petty high school drama. You could only sit there and watch, both relieved and embarrassed by Julie’s intervention.

“As if I would ever date some asshole like you,” she spewed before turning to you with a concerned look. “Are you okay, Woohyuk?” The caramel tones of her voice made you feel at ease as if nothing bad could ever happen when you were with her. Like a guardian angel arriving at the most dire times, Julie always found a way to make everything better. At that moment, you knew you wanted to be with her, to spend more time with her and get to know everything about her, but a voice in the back of your mind was telling you that you were inadequate. You couldn’t even protect yourself from one bully, what good could you do as her boyfriend? 

Julie grabbed your notebook off the ground and handed it to you. “I’m sorry about your drawing. It still looks really good though, you even got my eye shape and everything,” she compliments, giggling. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as a warm blush coats your cheeks.

“I-it’s just a sketch-”

“YOU BITCH!!” Yechan suddenly reels his arm back and you instinctively stand up in front of Julie, protecting her from the punch. The last thing you feel is a sharp shock to the jaw before your vision fades to black.

______________________________________________________________

As your eyes creep open, you are greeted by an abstract silhouette of colors. Reds, browns, and creams were lazily pushed together against a background of bland gray to resemble some sort of human form. Confusion hit you first, but as your vision began to clear, the colors and shapes became less fuzzy and more recognizable until you could make out a vivid picture of Julie looking down at you. Her face was close enough for you to see your reflection in her eyes and the smooth texture of her skin.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Julie chuckles. “You had me worried there for a second.”

“Where am I?” You ask her as you sit up. A shooting pain hits your jaw, reminding you of the events that occurred before you blacked out, and your gaze falls to the floor as a wave of embarrassment hits you.

“You’re in the nurse’s office. The sub and I dragged you here after he sent Yechan to the Principal’s office. I heard he’s gonna get a month-long suspension,” she explained. You couldn’t help but feel slightly irked as this whole thing could have been avoided if the sub had done his job in the first place.

“A month isn’t long enough,” you commented, earning a small chuckle from Julie. Suddenly, she took your hand in hers, lazily caressing the back of your hand with her thumb. You felt your breath catch in your throat and you had to mentally remind yourself to breathe before you blacked out again.

“You were really brave back there,” she said, flashing you a smile of admiration. “Thank you.”

“I-I didn’t really do anything. You were the brave one,” you pointed out. Getting punched in the face wasn’t exactly an act of bravery in your book. Julie, ever the optimist, saw things differently.

“Well then, I guess we make a great team,” she jokes. The two of you share a laugh, alone in the nurse’s office of all places, sharing this intimate moment. You would gladly spend the rest of eternity in this small room if it meant getting to spend every second of it close to her like this. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end as the nurse walks through the door.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” she says nonchalantly. “If the both of you are fine, then you two are free to head back to class.” The urge to lie and tell her that you were still feeling a little dizzy just so you could spend a little more time with Julie was strong, but Julie had already started walking to the door.

“Sorry Woohyuk, I have a test next period that I really don’t want to make up. I’ll see you after school, I promise!” With a bright smile so big that it makes her eyes look closed, she waves goodbye to you before shutting the door behind her. You admired how she smiled so freely and so fully as if nothing bad could ever happen to her. It became a precious gesture that you wanted to protect by any means necessary. 

But what could you do? You were just a socially awkward painter, and she was everything. All you were good for was becoming a human punching bag for others. It was obvious how this story would end - your one-sided feelings would stay hidden and Julie would go on to date some other guy that could give her everything she could ever want. It was painful, but it was the truth.

Or so you thought.

______________________________________________________________

Thankfully, the rest of the day went by without any further incidents, and you were once again walking the familiar route to the art club room. Suddenly, a voice from behind you echoes through the hallway.

“Choi Woohyuk!” You turn around to see Julie skipping towards you with a childlike giddiness. “Let’s walk together!”

‘S-sure,” you utter, trying to mask your enthusiasm. As the two of you walk side by side, Julie links arms with you, sending a shockwave through your body, which she notices and giggles at.

“I’m not making you uncomfortable am I?” She asks teasingly.

“N-not at all.” While you were happy with the contact, you weren’t sure what to make of it. Was this just a friendly gesture she did with all of her friends? Not wanting to get your hopes up, you decide to change the subject. “Soooo, you heading to the hip-hop club today?”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna quit the hip-hop club.”

Bewildered, you turn to her. “W-what, why?”

“I’d rather not be in the same club as that jerk Yechan,” she cringed. “Besides, I think it’s time that I try something new. Like painting.”

Her last words stopped you dead in your tracks. “W-what do you mean?”

Julie giggled cutely at your confused expression. “I wanna join the art club, and I want you to teach me how to paint.”

It felt too good to be true. On the outside, you were completely frozen, but on the inside, you were screaming and jumping for joy. “W-why?” You ask, attempting to stifle a grin.

“I don’t know, I just think it would be fun,” she answers simply. “I thought you would be happier since you’re basically obsessed with me.”

“I am not-” The warm blush that spread across your cheeks was answer enough; you were in fact obsessed with her. Julie grabs your hand and starts pulling you towards the art club room.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s go, Woohyuk!” Hand in hand, the two of you run through the hallways, your laughter echoing against the walls. You received some looks from students and teachers passing by, but you didn’t care. Instead of suppressing your smile like you usually do, you allowed yourself to smile as freely as the girl whose hand you were holding. The girl who showed up out of nowhere like a bolt from the blue. The girl who you were in love with.

______________________________________________________________

In the week leading up to the school festival, you and Julie spent practically every second together. You would meet up during the passing period just to talk for five minutes, and during class, you hid your phone underneath books just to send her a quick text. After school, you would give Julie painting lessons while working on your own pieces for the festival. To others, her work could be considered elementary or sloppy, but to you, they were masterpieces that deserved to be displayed at art museums for the whole world to see. Some days, Julie would be your muse and pose for you, giving you new ideas and teasing you if you stared at her for too long. On one particular day, Julie was uncharacteristically quiet as she was completely focused on painting a vase of flowers you set in front of her. You found the way her eyebrows furrowed to be particularly adorable.

On the weekend, you even went on a little museum “date” with her to help familiarize her with famous pieces and techniques. While you insisted that it was purely educational, Julie didn’t cease to poke fun at you when she caught you looking at her instead of the paintings. On the day of the school festival, the two of you had successfully made enough paintings for an exhibit. While you were extremely proud of the pieces you and Julie made, you couldn’t help but feel nervous as you waited for people to stop by the art club room. 

Julie noticed you being quieter than usual and gave you a worried expression. “Are you okay, Woohyuk? You don’t look so hot.”

“I-I’m fine,” you reassured her, but she wasn’t convinced. She led you to a nearby chair for you to sit on.

“You can talk to me, y’know. I’m here for you,” she said in a soothing tone. Her voice had a way of calming you down even in the worst of times.

“I’m just… nervous, I guess. What if no one shows up? We worked so hard this whole time, but if no one shows up, it’ll be such a waste.” Your head falls into your hands as you let out a deep sigh. Julie runs her hand gently through your hair in an attempt to provide you comfort.

“It’s not a waste at all. We had a lot of fun, and you taught me a lot about painting,” she explains before pausing in contemplation for a moment. Suddenly, her cheeks became tinged with a light shade of pink as she turned to you. “L-look, I was gonna give this to you later, but I think you need it now. Close your eyes.”

You raise an eyebrow at her in bewilderment. “What?”

“Just close them, Woohyuk!” She exclaimed.

“O-okay…” You decide to do as you're told instead of arguing. A couple seconds of nothing passes until the unthinkable happens: a soft warmth grazes against the flesh of your cheek, gentle and fleeting. The feeling lasts for less than a second, but the sensation lingers on your skin. You open your eyes and turn to Julie, whose light pink cheeks evolved into the red of a ripe tomato.

“J-Julie, did you just-”

Your words are interrupted as a couple walks through the doors.

“Hello, are you guys open?”

Julie jumps up from her seat, almost too eager to leave your side. “Yes, hello! Welcome to the art club, please have a look around!”

Slowly but steadily, the room starts to fill with more and more people, a larger crowd than you anticipated. For the next few hours, you and Julie would go around to each person, answering their questions and explaining your works of art. It was nerve-wracking given your track record with social interactions, but Julie’s presence alone was enough to keep you afloat. While you were happy so many people were there to check out your paintings, you weren’t able to ask Julie about what happened earlier.

Once the crowd died down a little bit, you went up to Julie to talk to her, but a girl with long black hair beat you to her.

“Julie!!!” She exclaimed as she embraced her. The two girls excitedly jumped up and down, squealing with excitement.

“Oh my god, I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow!” Julie beamed.

“I wasn’t about to miss my best friend’s first ever art exhibition! I can’t believe you made all of these, they’re so good!”

“Actually, I didn’t make all of them.” Julie beckons you over, flashing a wide smile at you. “Woohyuk, this is Natty, my best friend from my old school. Natty, this is Woohyuk, my art teacher and my… friend.” You noticed a small hesitation before she said “friend”, but the conversation moved on before you could dwell on it for too long.

“Oh, Woohyuk? So this is the boy you’ve been talking about, Julie. Not bad,” Natty says, winking at Julie. In response, Julie slaps her friend on the shoulder, eliciting heavy laughter from her. You could only stand there awkwardly, confused and out of the loop.

“A-anyways,” Julie interjected, blushing profusely. “I’m gonna give Natty a tour of the school, are you okay being here by yourself?”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something first,” you utter nervously.

Julie looks at you with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, is it okay if we talk later? I promise I’ll be back within an hour.”

The urge to ask her about what happened earlier was strong, but it was impossible to say no to her, especially when she gave you that look. “O-okay, I’ll see you in an hour then. Go have fun,” you reassure her, trying to hide your disappointment. Julie gives you one last look before exiting the room with Natty, leaving you alone with the few remaining visitors left.

______________________________________________________________

Moonlight casts abstract shadows against the floor of the art club room. Everyone else had gone to watch the performances from the various music-related clubs, yet here you were, sitting on the floor of the art club room, waiting for the girl of your dreams to walk through the door. You had been waiting exactly two hours, 43 minutes, and 12 seconds for her to come back (you started counting ever since she stepped out of the doorway). You weren’t mad that she took longer than she said she would, nor were you sad that she isn’t there yet. You were just… waiting.

The silence gave your thoughts the space to roam freely in your mind, yet you were only focused on one thing. It hadn’t left your mind ever since people started entering your art exhibition. You so desperately wanted to know what it meant. More specifically, you wanted to know what it meant for the future. Was it a chance at a new beginning? Or was it just a mistake? Negativity and doubt began to seep through your brain like ink spilled on a blank sheet of paper. Were you meant to live the rest of your life in this unrequited love?

“Woohyuk!” Julie bursts through the door and runs to you, kneeling beside you. “I am so so sorry, Natty started talking to these boys from the rock club, and I couldn’t just leave her alone y’know, and then the concert started and I was gonna leave but Natty forced me to stay, and I’m so sorry Woohyuk, and-”

Without hesitation, you gently grabbed the back of Julie’s head and pulled her closer, planting your lips against hers. The rest of the world fades into oblivion, leaving the two of you suspended in this intimate moment. If Heaven was real, it existed in the way her soft lips felt against yours, perfectly gentle like a brush gliding effortlessly against the canvas. Every fiber of your being was focused on this silent exchange of love. As you finally pull away, breathless and invigorated, Julie stares back at you with stars in her eyes.

“Julie. I like you. I’ve liked you ever since I laid eyes on you. I like the way nothing ever seems to bother you. I like the way you’re so eager to learn and try new things. I like the way your eyebrows furrow when you’re focusing on a painting. I like the way you smile so freely. I know I’m not that strong or brave, but I want to be the one to protect that smile. You are so precious to me, and you have made my life so much better just by existing. I want to be with you and go on more museum dates and create more art with you. I really, really like you, Julie.” 

An eternity passed as you waited for a response from her. The darkness made it hard to clearly decipher the expression on her face, but you could still see the universe reflected in her irises. Rather than embarrassment or anxiety, you were filled with determination. You weren’t going to waste your time anymore - if there was ever a time to confess, it was now.

Julie’s answer came in the form of a warm embrace, her arms tightly wrapped around your neck. “What took you so long?” She cried, her voice muffled by your neck.

The confidence you felt just seconds before was quickly replaced with worry. “J-Julie, are you crying?!”

She pulls away from you, revealing her teary eyes and a cute frown. “I was waiting for so long for you to confess, I thought maybe you didn’t like me anymore,” she pouted. You gently cup her face in your hands, wiping away her tears with your thumbs.

“I was worried you didn’t like me at all.” Laughter filled the room as both of your worries quickly melted away. You give Julie one little peck on the lips to seal the deal, reiterating your feelings towards her. She sinks into your arms, resting her head on your chest, your heartbeats syncing into a singular rhythm. The moonlight casts its silver glow down on Julie’s shoes, painted and signed by you.

[weeping-for-a-ship-isnt-enough]

Sick Days In (Mr. Puzzles/Reader)

───── ⋆ ⋅ ⋆ ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ⋆ ⋅ ⋆ ─────

When the Reader gets sick and bedridden, Mr. Puzzles takes it upon himself to help cheer them up (with questionable suggestions).

Header by: @crypticscarecrow <3

Of course— of course! Today just had to be the day, didn't it? Of course your body decided that today, out of the other 365 days in the year, this day, had to be the day you had to be bedridden with a stuffy nose, raspy throat, itchy eyes, and pounding headache.

Never mind the plans you had for today, no! Forget everything you thought you were going to do today, because today, you were going to be in bed suffering with the thought of doing much more productive things than this right now.

Amazing! Awesome! POGGERS! FANTASTIC!

Ugh.

With yet another sniffle, you roll over in your messy bed and stare up at the ceiling, thinking of game plans to catch up with things for tomorrow. You know the gang is patient enough to not berate you in your state, some of them even checked up on you and brought you helpful things; but even then you feel awful for not being productive at all. Even if it wasn't your fault, the guilt overrides the feeling of reassurance from your friends.

On top of that, the fear of missing out is making your situation even worse. You promised you'd help SMG4 with a new video (3 is probably already helping in your absence), go out training with Meggy and Tari (they're probably already having a blast in the training grounds), and (oh god) help Mr. Puzzles with a new script.

Actually, you cannot see him making a script without you, ever since his rehabilitation and integration to the group, he hasn't spent a moment without you. You were his co-writer, his co-host, his co-director, you were all of his co-s! He refuses to not let you have a role in what he makes now. It's rather endearing...

You throw an arm over your eyes, shielding them from the bright light coming through your window.

Honestly, you're surprised he hasn't even texted you yet, yelling where you were and being as dramatic as possible about your disappearance. Knowing him, he's probably terrorizing the group to answer him about your whereabouts, instead of— y'know, checking in your room? He gets so dramatic that he can't even think of the obvious sometimes. But really, it's just charming to you, you laugh whenever it happens. The thought brings a smile to your face, feeling a tiny shine of happiness in your foul and frustrating mood. Funny how it happens, he's not even here and he still brings a smile to your face.

You sniffle again, feeling the gross sensation of your stuffy nose running down before instantly sitting up and getting another tissue for yourself. As you blow into it, a sudden brute force quite literally breaks down your bedroom door with a loud SLAM and CRASH. The sudden noise gives your head a pound of pain, making you flinch and groan loudly as you try to rub the feeling away. When you look up at the remains of your door, you spot none other than Mr. Drama Queen himself, with that crazy realistic look in his screen.

"Fuck! Puzzles!" You curse with a deep frown.

The TV man practically lunges himself to your bed, grabbing you by the shoulders and gripping them as hard as possible (not enough to cause you pain, though). Ignoring the tired and pissed off expression you wear, he leans in dangerously close to you and begins to scream in your face.

"WHO DID THIS TO YOU!? I SWEAR I WILL FIND WHOEVER DID THIS TO MY NUMBER ONE STAR AND KILL THEM—"

"Puzzles, I'm fine— Fuck's sake, stop being so loud, please," you whine at the man, letting yourself be limp to fall back on your pillow. Your attempts are futile, however, because of somebody's hands holding you in place. His screen changes to his crazed-off look, the one that isn't realistically made with eyes and lips but a wide colorful smile and deep shadows above his eyes.

"Well, you don't look fine! You've been in your room all day! You had poor little ol' me worried!"

"Ugh— I don't feel fine, but I am fine. Just a sick day, dude."

"That's why I must find whoever it is that made you contract this awful virus. Nobody gets to make my star actor feel awful and get away with it!" He hisses, slightly shaking you front and back.

This man.

You roll your eyes with an amused smile on your face, you bring your hand to his arm, quietly asking him to stop shaking you. Thankfully, he gets the message.

"Nobody purposefully gave me anything, Puzzles."

"That's what they want you to think." He says with a disdained look. He finally let's go of your shoulders after sitting you up more straight, not even letting you fall back on your bed. Instead, he sits besides you at the edge of your bed, his body and screen facing you directly.

"But— mystery solving aside, how are you feeling?" Mr. Puzzles smiles normally at you, as if just moments ago he didn't go psycho-crazy about killing whatever imaginary person made you sick.

"Like shit," you huff as you fall backwards, leaning against the pillows and the cold wall. A helpful chill to combat that fever (but probably not productive). "I've taken everything for it but it won't take effect until a few more hours."

"Yes, a rather lousy state to be in... That just means I can keep you company until you feel better!" He says in a very chirpy tone, crossing his legs and gently folding his hands together on his knees.

You scoff a smile. "Thanks, but— shouldn't you be working on that script? I don't think you'd like to see me sniffling and— blowing my nose all day."

"Nonsense! I insist. There's nothing I would love more than to bring your spirits up! Even if just a little bit. We can work on that script later when you feel in a better mood."

Your smile only widens, making the corner of your eyes lift and your eyebrows furrow into a softer, appreciative look.

"See! It's already working." The TV gestures at you, obviously proud of the fact he can make you smile.

You hum in agreement, sniffling right after. "Yeah... Thank you."

"Would you like to watch anything in particular?" He offers with a tilt of his head.

"Mm... The Book of Life?"

"Done!" He brings a hand up to his dials and turns one to his left, switching the channel to the movie requested by his favorite star.

As the beginning logos appear, you hum in thought; glancing down at his gloved hands, then back at him, you smile and tilt your head. "Do you want to know why I'm sick today?"

The movie in his face screen pauses, with the symbol on the top right and static lines glitching the image, but he doesn't turn it back to his face. "Very much so."

"Cats." You say with an amused smirk.

"... Cats?"

"I'm allergic to them. I pet one last night and I guess I didn't wash my hands well enough." You nonchalantly shrug.

After a second of silence, Mr. Puzzles' shoulders rise as if he's taking a deep breath and clasps his hands together, pointing his fingers right at you. "... What did the cat look like?"

"Turn the movie back on, I'm not telling you." You huff and scoot a little more to the left, leaving room for Mr. Puzzles to sit on the bed with criss-crossed legs.

"Fine." He reluctantly complies, but deep down you know he never minds playing movies for you. Not you. Never you.

[prythianpages]

'Cause Somewhere in the Crowd There's You | Lucien

summary: When Tamlin sends Lucien to the Night Court as his emisssary, he stumbles upon a nightclub and finds himself captivated by you. His sweet nightingale.

warnings: angst, mentions of blood and violence (reader is trapped in a nightclub)

a/n: This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (: but also was inspired by Lana Del Rey's music and a hint of Oscar Wilde ♥️ This takes place roughly before Amarantha's rule. If I'm going to be honest, I find Lucien hard a bit hard to write for (but this song really gave me lucien vibes) so I hope this doesn't come off a bit out of character for him. also why is it so hard to find pics that match Lucien's vibe on pinterest.

Trapped in the ceaseless rhythm of melancholic blues, you can’t help but feel sick and tired of everything. Days blur into nights. All you do is eat and sleep and sing. The weight of routine presses down on you, suffocating the spark that once fueled your passion. 

You wish every show to be your last.

That is, until you see him.

He emerges from the crowd like a radiant sun breaking through the darkest night. His presence is tall and striking with skin kissed by the sun and a cascade of red hair. Despite the length of scars that run down the left side of his face, there is an undeniable elegance and beauty that surrounds him. His eye holds you captive, drawing you in like a moth to a flame and your voice falters for a brief note. 

**

Lucien knows he should leave. Hewn city is not a welcoming one and his meeting with the High Lord of the Night Court did not go well. But against the warning bells ringing in his head, he decides to linger and wander around the dark city. With no clear destination in mind, his feet guide him through the labyrinthine alleys until, almost as if compelled by an unseen force, he stands before the entrance of a mysterious nightclub. Bathed in an eerie red light, the sign above reads The Rose. 

As he approaches, the entrance, despite being small, appears almost ethereal. Shadows dance upon the towering stone walls. The air is thick with an alluring blend of magic, pleasure and something darker. Inside is just as mysterious and intoxicating. He should leave and he turns around to do so when he a mesmerizing sound stops him and holds him in place.

“In the land of gods and monsters.” 

A beautiful and heavenly voice. It beckons him forward like a siren’s call and he allows the fae lights embedded in the cavern to guide him further. The corners of the nightclub harbor hidden alcoves, draped in luxurious silks and velvet.  

“I was an angel living in the garden of evil.”

Some high fae engage in secretive exchanges and gambles. Some are lost in the enigmatic allure of drinks and colorful powders that shimmer with enchantments. Some are engrossed in the pretty fae females and males on their laps. Others, like him, are captured by the hauntingly beautiful song.

“You got that medicine I need. Fame, liquor, love, give it to me slowly.”

Where ancient stone meets polished wood, Lucien finds himself at the bar and orders a drink. He turns to face the stage in the center of the club, leaning against the bar. His mechanical eye emits a soft whir as his gaze travels to the owner of the voice. 

“Put your hands on my waist, do it softly.”

A silent awe washes over him as he takes in the sheer beauty before him. Dressed in a white gown that drapes over you like moonlit silk, you stand on the stage like an angel amidst the monsters that lurk in every corner of the place. The fabric mirrors your every movement as you sway to the rhythm of the song in small billowing waves.

“Me and the Mother, we don’t get along. So now I sing.”

It’s as if you sense his gaze on you because your siren eyes are searching the crowd. Mirroring the depths of a fathomless ocean, your eyes are pools of sadness and longing, yet there's a vulnerability that softens in them as they lock with his. Your voice slightly falters and for a heartbeat, time seems to stretch.

A tremor courses through you, fingers tightening their grip onto the microphone. Your eyes darken again and then you’re tearing your gaze away from Lucien. He follows it, curious eyes landing on a male who stands on the balcony facing the stage. Even from where Lucien stands, he can tell the male radiates power and money.

“No one’s gonna take my soul away.”

“They call her the Nightingale.” The bartender says to Lucien as he hands him his drink. Lucien’s gaze returns to you. “She’s off limits. I suggest finding another female to warm you for the night. There’s plenty to choose from here.”

Lucien says nothing in return. Those hadn’t been his intentions upon seeing you. He simply found himself struck by your presence. And as the enchanting notes of your song continue to soar, there’s a rising desire to learn more about you. The thought of extending his stay begins to take root, a subtle whisper tempting him to linger a while longer. He’ll write to Tamlin to reassure him and continue to negotiate with Rhysand further.

**

The gamble Lucien took to stay in Hewn city is a winning one with each passing night yielding more promising signs of Rhysand's willingness to compromise. It brings him relief as it gives him an excuse to visit the nightclub again. He returns the next night and then the following, noticing something new about you every time. 

On the second night, he realizes the male you had glared at the first night he saw you was the owner of the nightclub. Lucien learns that he was right in his first impression of him. Benedict is a wealthy man, both in money and in connections, and is not subtle about the power he holds over this part of the city. Everyone in the nightclub bows down to him but not you. There’s a look of defiance in your eyes every time you look Benedict’s way.

On the third night, your usually hauntingly melancholic voice takes on a different, lighter tone. It’s still just as beautiful but now, harbors a sense of hope. And your eyes find Lucien’s with ease. You don’t break eye contact with him throughout the entirety of your performance that night, as though your song is a serenade meant solely for him.

It’s on the fourth night that he finally gets to talk to you. 

Breaking from your routine of disappearing behind the stage curtains after performances, tonight, you grace the bar with your presence, drawing stares from some of the high fae. His grip tightens on his glass when he recognizes a dark hunger in most of them but even so, none dare to approach you.

“What will it be, lovely?” Lucien hears the bartender address you.

Taking the empty spot beside Lucien, your presence and proximity captivate him. His heartbeat falters momentarily as you graciously flip your hair, surrounding him with the divine scent of the sweetest rose.

“Just a water,” you reply and he hears the rustle of your dress as you turn to face him. “You’re not from here.”

Lucien’s lips twitch upwards. “What gave it away?”

“You’re not a monster.”

He finally turns to look at you, a strange warmth spreading through him. Ever since he lost his eye, he had battled with the scars tainting his skin, internalizing a sense of monstrousity. Yet, as you regard him, it feels as though you see an angel where he sees only imperfections.

His eye drinks you in, the mechanical one on the left whirring along. The corner of his lips lift up into a smirk when he catches you doing the same. 

“How do you know I’m not a monster?”

“There’s something different about you. Something good,” your eyes study him carefully and then, with a soft sigh, you add, “It’d do you well not to dwell in places like this. They’ll only dim your light.”

Curiosity getting the better of him, Lucien asks, "And what about you?"

Your eyes widen, as though the question catches you off guard. "What about me?"

Despite the myriad thoughts swirling within him, he restrains himself and settles for, "You, too, don't seem to fit into this place.”

You fall into a thoughtful silence and your brow slightly furrows. Lucien keenly observes the subtle shift in your gaze as you scan the room before settling back on him. Leaning in as though sharing a secret, he instinctively leans closer. However, as he anticipates your words, you’re turning your back to him. Just as he's poised to speak, you sweep your hair aside, rendering him speechless as you show him instead. 

A delicate tattoo is etched onto the skin between your shoulders—a bird confined within a cage.

“I can’t leave,” he hears your murmur and the ink on your skin appears to shimmer like stars in confirmation. A bargain permanently marked upon flesh. Your flesh and he swallows thickly at what your words imply. 

You’re that bird, the nightingale, trapped in the cage.

“I have to go,” you say suddenly and your hair falls back into place, cascading down your back and concealing the telling tattoo. “Will you come by tomorrow?”

“I thought you said I shouldn’t dwell in places like this.”

“You shouldn’t,” you reply with a wistful smile and Lucien hates the way you drop your gaze.

“But I think I will.”

His words prompt your head to lift, eyes meeting his in surprise. A rush of excitement flushes your skin, transforming the wistful smile into one that is lighter, more promising. A fluttering sensation stirs in Lucien's stomach, and he can't help but return your smile.

A couple more days in Hewn City wouldn’t hurt.

**

Ten days ago, you were stuck in an endless loop of exhaustion and despair, where every night weighed heavily upon you. However, a welcome shift has occurred since then. Sleeping, eating and singing still consume most of your days but a newfound presence has entered the scene. Lucien.

And as the curtains are drawn back, revealing your presence to the awaiting audience, you embrace yourself for the blinding super trouper beams. Unlike nights past where a tinge of melancholy enveloped you, tonight is different. 

You won’t feel blue, like you always do, because somewhere in the crowd there’s him.

Lucien’s presence is like a burst of brilliance, akin to the beaming lights that find you on the stage every night. When your eyes find his amongst the crowd, your pulse quickens and heat rushes to your cheeks. It’s like the sight of him proves to you that you're still alive. 

In his wake, the shadows that linger in the club cower and hide away. He shines like the sun and you find his brightness infectious. It chases away the gloom that had settled over your own light, reigniting the flames of enthusiasm that had long dimmed within you.

Each note you sang resonated with newfound energy, and every performance became an opportunity to embrace the warmth and vitality he brought into your world. As the final notes of your song hang in the air, you can’t help but feel a sense of destiny. You were meant to meet Lucien.

After your performance, you sneak your way back to the bar where he waits for you.

“You came again,” you smile at him.

Lucien smiles back at you but it falters. “I’m afraid it’ll be the last time…for a while.”

The smile doesn’t waver off your face yet the glistening in your eyes reveals the threat of an emotional storm beginning to unfold. You refuse to dwell in it, not wanting to let the darkness that lingers over you like a gloomy cloud to consume you again.

“Okay,” you manage to breathe. You knew this day was coming. Lucien had to return back home, and you, regrettably, can’t go with him. “Let’s make the most of tonight, then. Dance with me?”

“Are you sure?” Lucien asks and you follow his gaze to where Benedict stands, a top of the balcony as always. You feel a rush of relief when you see a pretty female wrapped around him. A distraction. Perfect.

Lucien watches you, taking in every shift in your expression as he awaits for your answer. It’s not that he doesn’t want to dance with you. Gods, does he want to dance with you. Anything to be able to hold you close. To take you into his arms and hold you tight. 

Unfortunately, he’s well aware of the tight leash Benedict keeps you on. He doesn’t let you stray far from his sight. You’re not allowed anywhere near the private nooks lining the club or the rooms at the back where private exchanges occur. It’s for your own safety and Lucien can’t be mad at that. What unsettles him is the way Benedict regards you as his most prized object and Lucien doesn’t want you to face consequences over a dance.

“Yes,” you finally answer. 

There’s a strong certainty in your voice but also a subtle plea that tugs at his heartstrings. It brings forth a tightening in his chest. He suppresses the urge to frown. He plans to return to you but for now, it’s your last night together before he has to leave the Night Court. 

Lucien graces you with a smile instead. He offers his hand to you, his eyes lighting up with a warmth that mirrors the blood coursing through his veins. A delightful shiver travels up his spine as your hand wraps around his. Until now, you’d only share glances, lingering stares and the occasional brushing of skin. 

As the piano begins its enchanting melody, Lucien takes the lead, guiding you onto the dance floor. You’re so close you can feel the warmth of his body and all you want to do is melt into it. Melt into him. But you can’t.

So you bask in the warmth of his gaze instead. Up close, you can now appreciate the depth of his russet eye and you can’t help but marvel at the intricacies of the golden mechanical eye on the left. His gaze never strays from yours throughout the dance and the tender connection between you begins to rise under the brilliance of his gaze, pulling your heart with it.

As he holds you tight, you surrender to the intimate embrace, shedding all inhibitions. Neither of you speak, your eyes speaking for you. It feels as though the world has faded away, leaving just the two of you swaying in harmony. Smiling, having fun, where each step becomes a silent declaration of the unspoken feelings that have blossomed between you.

The passage of time remains elusive as you share the dance, the minutes slipping away unnoticed until the pianist gracefully bows to the audience. Your dance comes to a dreadful stop. Lucien's grasp on you tightens, a reluctant acknowledgment of the inevitable separation.

“I’ll come back for you,” he whispers, his promise carrying a tenderness that ignites a fervent flame within you. “I’ll find a way to help set you free, my sweet nightingale.”

He then pulls a pristine white rose, the same exact shade of white as the dress you wore when he first saw you, from the folds of his coat. He graces you with one last smile as he leans in, placing the rose carefully behind your ear. “Until then,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple and your eyes flutter shut.

“Until then,” you breathe and as Lucien walks away and the shadows inevitably return, you take delight in the way the darkness hesitates to claim you, leaving you untouched.

You can’t even bring yourself to care when Benedict corners you backstage, seething with anger. Of course, he noticed. You don’t even flinch when he throws his glass of whiskey toward the wall behind you, the shattered glass ricocheting. Some of them make their way to you, slicing your skin.

As you settle into the comfort of your small room, you retrieve the white rose from its perch behind your ear, cradling it delicately in your hand. A single drop of blood from one of your healing cuts taints the rose, painting one of the white petals red. Still, you cling onto the slender stem, gripping it as tightly as you grasp onto that fervent flame of hope burning within you. Your light will never dim again…

Because somewhere in Prythian, there’s him.

a/n: I'll admit this took an angstier turn than what I had intended but I hope you still enjoy this darker interpretation of ABBA's Super Trouper lol.

tagging: @scooobies

[ladyelissarose]

listen listen.. pregnancy sex with miguel where he is feral, gentle but just so in love

‘Desires’

Miguel O’Hara x female spider-wife reader

Warnings; 18 NSFW! pregnancy sex. P in V, gentle sex-but tiny bit rough. Slight oral ‘fem receives’ Fluff overall with this mountain of a man. Be prepared to die and resurrect into euphorias. ;)

Author’s note; Hiii my most favorite anon!! Here is this ride of ecstasy, I hope it meets your expectations!! Enjoy deary, thank you for this delicious ask!! You’re gonna need this🧋

In quiet peace you had just slowly waddled out of the new babies bedroom, after touching up the painting in the room. Baby color stains covered your hands and arms, down to your swollen ankles and feet, where the drops would fall from the brush or roller and find place right on you.

4 months pregnant you were, or ‘a bundle of gozo’ as your husband and leader of the Spider-Man’s task force to protect thousands of universes- (Miguel O’Hara.. the infamous Spider-Man 2099) would tell you- but only you. No one outside of your home could know that this beast of a man that had a reputation of breaking things and being mean was actually down bad for you and more obsessed with you at the sight of your rounded belly... his ‘bundle of gozo.’

After that long morning to afternoon workout of painting your baby’s little bassinet (yes it took that long- you were pregnant and not the usual all tough and rapid Spider-Woman) you had taken a quick shower so you could have time to prepare something for dinner, wanting to do as much as possible for Miguel.

Him being the leader was more than carrying the title, it was the whole world and it’s weight of responsibilities on his shoulders too, and sense he took you off for now (though you wanted to bargain with him about Jess being so pregnant and still Spider-Woman at once, but you had to remember accept that he lost a little one at one time. And now as he was gifted you and a new baby for a second chance, he wouldn’t dare risk it.)

So instead you’d cook all his meals and clean up his lair back a HQ, though he programmed Lyla to tell you to go home every time she saw and caught you sneaking in. Little by little you had started to stop trying to come by to HQ, once being pregnant was taking a toll on all the walks you had and you were a little hesitant if not scared to swing around. So, with that said, you decided to change things up a bit and fix up the baby’s room.

Miguel took care of building everything and you put the clothes and accessories in, and today you had almost finished the bassinet area, but you called it a day once you had gotten tired. And to reward yourself you jumped into the shower to cool yourself off.

Few moments later of making sure you got every part of you, while working around your growing belly, you had finally finished, and wrapped a towel around you for now so you could grab a fresh pair of panties and Miguel’s hoodie that rested on your bed.

“Oh my goodness- Miguel!!”

As you walked out you were startled by the very large and bulky, god sculpted man sitting at the edge of your bed, man spreading his thick thighs and flexing his crossed arms, while only sitting in his black boxers. Miguel was home unexpectedly earlier than he said he’d be, nonetheless you greeted him with a breathy laugh after be a little scared for a second,

“H-Hi baby.. I just got out-“

Standing to his feet abruptly Miguel walked to you as his eyes looked you over,

“-Mama miaaa... you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

You let out a light giggle and held your belly as you cooed yet informed,

“Awe baby.. listen, so I made you dinner want to let me get dressed so we can-“

With a dead look in his eyes he stated,

“I don’t want it.”

You were taken aback a bit at his words, your stupid pregnancy hormones took his wording wrong as if he didn’t want to eat your cooked meal, making a pout pop on your lips and your eyes get watery.

‘But I made your favorite tonight.. empanadas.’

Miguel thought he had been obvious about what kind of ‘meal’ he wanted with the way he was drooling over you and speaking in a sultry tone, but he forgot about how you can be a little oblivious and sensitive to some things if you were feeling ‘extra’ emotional that day.

And today must of been it when he then heard a light sniff and a bit back whine. He held his breath when he looked up from your belly and turned to see your face, pouty and teary eyed, it made his heart explode for you in millions of emotions as he right away held your face up, speaking ever so softly.

“Oh mami... no no no. Por favor no llores.”

At him being so sweet you face palmed as you now cried feeling guilty but stop asking,

“How could you not want dinner? I made you the empanadas, I thought the baby even kicked when I said they came out perfect for you-“

He placed a gentle finger on your lips as he interrupted kindly but firmly, so you could understand,

“Mami.. I want you... you.”

‘... oh... OH!’

Red covered your cheeks in shyness at his boldness, but also in embarrassment for your stupidity at not reading his hungry words and desires for you. You had to word out how stupid you felt, while he played with the top of your towel, working slowly and carefully at untucking it,

“Oh baby I’m so sorry-“

Once he had it freed he cooed,

“Shh shh... it’s more than ok- ayyy coñooo... hermosa mami.”

His hungry and desperate eyes cut his words off short as he raked his red eyes over your body in adoration, wishing he had photographic memory.

Everything new about you didn’t have time to be hated or be shamed at all by you yourself as you watched it change, for Miguel loved ALL of it- stretch marks, swollen ankles, glowy skin- just.. all of it.

He guided you slowly to your bed while taking your lips into a deep kiss, his tongue taking entrance when he pinched your hips, making you moan out.

When your knees hit the bed Miguel without hesitation lifted you up and carried you onto the bed, his lips never leaving yours.

You raked your fingers through his thick hair and pulled them slightly to part your lips as you reached out for his cock through his boxers and breathed out,

“I need you Miguel.”

He rushed to grab your hand from his cock and shimmied off his boxers then intertwined your fingers instead as he breathed out,

“I need to taste you first mami-“

With lustful eyes he looked down at your core and bit his bottom lip as he added,

“If I go in you now I’ll come too soon, that’s how bad I am right now... but you mami.. need to be ready for me first.”

He then pushed you back down on the bed gently as he lowered himself to be face to face with your pussy, groaning in pleasure as he gave it feather light kisses, teasing you lightly as he praised,

“So pretty mami... all this for me hm?”

You were about to reply a verbal answer but it came out as a moan when he pressed his open mouth onto you and moaned, the vibration of it making yourself eyes roll back in pleasure. He sucked it a couple more time before pulling away to admire in between breaths,

“So sweet... como azúcar... como miel.”

With just the right pressure that made you moan and pull his head closer, Miguel then licked a long stripe from your hole to your clit, sucking the top once he got there.

Back arching into your intertwined hands that rested on your stomach as he continued to work your clit with determination and starvation to hear your cries come along with the feeling of ecstasy being loosed.

You panted for air as he sucked you harshly yet kissed it delicately wherever he did touch. He acted like a starved man as he didn’t let up and dove in deeper at every moan you let out, intensifying the warm pressure you were feeling in your lower tummy. To add more to your stimulation he added a couple of fingers, curling just right into that spot that had you seeing stars, he let out a light chuckle as he could feel you squeeze around his now coated fingers,

“Ahh mami.. you’re close aren’t you-“

You tightened your grip on his ruffled back hair as you cried,

“Yes! Please.. ah Miguel I want you- I need you!”

Tears began to gather in your eyes for how close you were, the pleasure being all to overwhelming as you desired to feel more of him- all of him. You could feel how close to the edge you were, the bubble of euphoria coming so close to bursting, but you didn’t want to come yet, you wanted Miguel in you for this. In desperation you whined out while lifting up slightly to reach for him, pulling his head up as your cried,

“Miguel- ah! please...”

At your tone he abruptly stopped, thinking he had pushed you too far, worry covering his chiseled features as he panted with lips covered in your slick,

“Amor- are you-“

“I need you now. Please papi.”

His jaw dropped slightly, as he huffed and adored your fucked out face and rosy cheeks, he caressed your face and wiped your teary face as he asked,

“What do you want mami?”

He cupped your pussy into his large palm with puppy eyes, pretending to be all innocent as his actions made your hips buck into his hold. You deep need for him had to word out boldly what you desired mostly,

“I need your cock.. papi.”

Calling him papi- ha.. yeah that was the magic to get him to end you now, his eyes now were definitely red as he replied,

“What mami asks, mami gets.”

With a kiss to your lips he then effortlessly flipped your around, and lifted you up to your knees as his arms wrapped around your front to keep your back completely against his chest. When he got needy for you, he had to feel you almost melting into his skin.

Pressing kisses onto your hair and sucking sweet spots on the back of your neck he slowly guided himself in. Your warmth engulfed him entirely and he couldn’t of felt more infatuated with you in that moment. Giving you praises as always when he felt you take him in so well as he went in deeper and deeper,

“Ayy mami.. your so wet, so perfect.. ay coño-“

You mewled a cry when you felt him bottom out, his tip grazing your cervix perfectly.

“Oh Miguel.. so full.”

Miguel let out a deep breath and stayed still, you could feel his heart pounding against his chest onto your back rapidly, his warm breaths hitting your neck as he palmed your full breasts and rubbed your belly. You laid your hand on his that rested on your breasts as you asked kindly,

“Are you ok?”

Miguel hummed and dug his face knot your neck as he replied,

“Si mami.. just.. ahhh.. I feel like I’m not gonna last long... but I want it too.”

He sounded almost guilty but you refused to let him feel that way, not when he loved you entirely and gave everything of himself to you... and especially when he made you feel THIS GOOD. You twisted your head to the side to reach his lips as you reassured him,

“It’s ok papi.. you’ll have me forever.”

He growled at your words and pulled you closer possessively as he kissed your lips, slowly beginning to move his hips. A sigh left your lips in pleasure as he picked up his speed and repeated,

“I’ll have you forever.. por siempre amor.”

It gave him the boost he needed to start taking you hard and deep, hitting your cervix every time his hips met your ass. He kneaded you’re breasts, squeezing them as he admired how full they have gotten sense you were pregnant.

Then they’d slowly go down to rest on your belly as he dove into you harder at the thought of you carrying his child. You could feel his breath picking up as well as his speed, you know he was very close as he’d let a moan slip here and there, and he was tugging you impossibly closer. He kissed your neck after he sucked a love spot there as he whimpered,

“I’m close mami.. come on amor, come with m-me.”

Miguel mostly held you up as he pounded into you fervently, you snaked a hand to grab at his neck and pull on his hair as you moaned his name loudly when his hand went lower to rub at your clit.

Rubbing tight circles and driving into you in unrelenting speed had you soon coming apart and crying out Miguel’s name as he thrusted in the right places that had you seeing white dots- if not stars. Miguel came just right after, painting your walls with his white coat once again as he moaned your name and endless praises while riding both your highs long and out,

“You did so good mami.. so good.”

You hummed and smiled to yourself as you felt yourself sink into his arms once the exhaustion hit you right after your high had passed. Miguel let out a deep sigh before kissing your cheek,

“I’m gonna pull out ok mami?”

You nodded with a low whimper as he carefully pulled out and laid you gently onto the bed on your back.

Sweat covering you entirely with your hair spread out on the sheets, your baby bump glowing as you took deep breaths that had your full breasts moving, had Miguel hovering over you in silence as he took you in, realizing how lucky he was to have you.

You smiled at him shyly as he locked eyes with you and smiled sweetly, being vulnerable and open with you... something he never did outside of your home.

As Spider-Man he had to be harsh and closed off, not letting anything in or out, but with you... he can do anything and be safe, and that’s what he loved most about you... you made him feel free and whole again.

He took time to check if you were ok and feeling fine, he also had a small chat with your baby bump as he expressed his love for the both of you, and how he’d keep you safe forever.

He then carried you to the bathroom promising a relaxing bath.

Soon after a warming bath of gentle touches and loving gazes, Miguel used his strong hands to bless you with a good foot massage after he helped you dry off. He even kissed your sore thighs and rubbed your belly with praises as he did his best to loosen your muscles, and you bet his miracle and loving hands worked magic. And when you tried to help him with anything he insisted that you only had to worry about being by his side forever and love him.

You told him not to worry but Miguel had also made sure you ate a bowl of fruit to fuel you up and your baby after enjoying some empanadas. You ended up sharing most of your fruity dessert with him though because you didn’t like how the blueberries tasted in the moment. Even though you’ve never really had a problem with them before, but to make you happy Miguel ate them all for you, even the deformed strawberry that stood out. (that you said looked like him, but didn’t taste sweet like him- Miguel practically choked on his strawberry at your words, but he blushed.)

Now full and satisfied, you lay under the covers in Miguel’s hoodie, partially on top of him as your belly made it a little difficult, but your head rested against his broad chest as he held onto your back and the other held your belly as he caressed it softly from under the clothing.

A soft and delicate kiss found its way on your head as Miguel could sense you were drifting off to sleep, he held you tighter as he whispered into your hair,

“Te amo mami... sleep well.”

You shifted a bit and let your hand come up to his cheek to hold it there as you replied sleepily,

“I ‘ove you more papi.. g’night.”

He kissed your soft hand and placed it back on his cheek as he cooed,

“Goodnight amor.”

Spanish translations:

Por favor no llores- please don’t cry

Gozo- joy

Como azúcar, Como miel- like sugar, like honey

amor- love

por siempre- forever

Mami- mommy

Papi- daddy

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Sunset Serenity (Fluff)

Rise!Leonardo x reader

A/N: My first ROTTMNT x reader!💚 It’s a short one, but I thought it was a cute idea to start out with. I have so many ROTTMNT ideas, and hopefully I’ll get to write on the soon❤️💙💜🧡

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Warnings: None💙 (other than my horrid spelling)

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The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the forest. The turtles, along with you, decided to take a break and enjoy a peaceful evening by the river. The four turtles and you found yourselves perched on the edge of the riverbank. The gentle murmur of the water and the fading sounds of the world around you created a serene atmosphere.

As you sat next to Leo, you couldn't help but be captivated by the beauty of the setting sun. The sky transformed into a canvas of warm hues - a breathtaking masterpiece that mirrored the colors in Leo's eyes. Those god damn eyes, that you had found yourself staring at more times than you’d like to admit.

"So, how will everyone rate my forest idea?" Donatello asked, breaking the peaceful silence, resting on the sun bed and sipping on a cool drink that had emerged from his battle shell. “Great? Fantastic? Absolutely genius?”

"It’s awesome!”, Mikey chimed in with a grin. “But I gotta say, this sunset makes this day so much more awesome!”

“It really does”, Raph said, his eyes fixed on the horizon, resting on his shell with a content smile.

Leonardo nodded in agreement before he turned to you, a soft smile on his face. "And how about you? How's your day been?"

You returned his smile, appreciating the concern in his tone. "It's been great, Leo. A bit hectic, but moments like these make it all worth it", you said, remembering the absolute chaos that had been the four brothers finding a good place to set up camp in the forest.

Leo hummed at that answer, his eyes lingering on you for a moment, before he turned back towards the sunset.

The turtles settled into a comfortable quiet, each lost in their thoughts as the sun continued its descent. The river reflected the changing colors, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you.

The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a canvas of stars above your heads. The turtles and you stood up, stretching after the peaceful interlude, getting ready to head back towards the campsite. But you lingered for a moment, looking at the stars above you in awe.

Leonardo noticed this and stayed with you, watching as his brothers left, their laughter slowly disappearing between the trees, as the night settled around you like a comfortable blanket. Leo stood and looked at you for a moment, taking in your beautiful features. Your hair, your skin, your eyes, your nose, your lips. Leo could not deny the feelings that had blossomed between the two of you. Ever since the Kraang invasion, something had shifted between you and him. Your friendship had grown stronger in a way that he had never tried before. Lingering eyes and need to be near each other. And now, as he stood alone with you under the stars, he felt bravery wash over him. After the things he had been through, what he was about to do felt easy yet extremely terrifying.

In the soft moonlight, he took your hand, his touch gentle yet firm. You looked from the stars to his eyes, finding the same sparks in them as you had done in the sky.

"Thank you for being here with me", Leo whispered, his eyes locked onto yours and his thumb softly stroked your hand.

You smiled, feeling the unspoken emotions between you, just like you had done so many times these past few months. "Anytime, Leo. I wouldn't want to share this moment with anyone else".

In that quiet, intimate space, surrounded by the soft sounds of the river, Leonardo leaned in. The distance between you disappeared, and your lips met in a tender kiss. It was a moment frozen in time, a culmination of unspoken feelings and shared dreams.

As you pulled away, Leonardo's gaze held yours, a genuine smile still plastered all over his face. "I don't know what the future holds, but I do know that I want you in it".

You smiled at the slider, your hand holding onto his neck. “Good thing that I aren’t going anywhere, Leon”, you said, pulling him in for another sweet kiss under the stars.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook kisses you for the first time.

> fluff, lowkey suggestive ig / wc: 1.5k

> warnings: kissing <3 ?

note: something short and sweet. but also think i had like three heart attacks writing this.

—

“i’m bored now. do you want to kiss?”

power interruption at midnight. too small of a kitchen. your chair at the end of the table, infront of the fridge. jungkook on your left, behind him- the sink. a laptop that died in the middle of a ‘the good place’ episode you had downloaded the night prior, few inches away from the candle light illuminating your wide eyes looking at him innocently.

you dip the popsticle stick in the jar of honey yet again, smearing the sweetness across your lips. it seaps in between the crack, and you swallow it down unwittingly, your tongue almost numb from the past fifteen minutes of dipping the stick and sucking the honey from it.

jungkook is rendered speechless, following your seemingly sinless actions with an awe-struck expression on his face. his breath hitches when your thumb swipes under your bottom lip and you suck on it as you feign naivety.

but boy, does he know better.

you frown at him in impatience, tapping your cold foot against the leg of your chair. “mkay. guess not. no hard feelings.”

the more time jungkook spent with you, the bigger of a fascinating enigma you became. your tongue rises without much ado to speak out whatever’s on your mind, and you ask him if he wants to kiss the same way one asks another about the weather. you make either the corniest or dirtiest jokes then hit him on the arm or thigh before hiding your face. you never not cry when watching a pixar movie, and you bawled your eyes out once over the phone ranting about the bad day you had and its correlation to murphy’s law.

at the same time, it doesn’t take much to make you smile. cat videos. tulips. remembering that your favorite flower is tulips. tteokbokki. chewy boba balls. good morning and good night texts. butterfly-shaped things. cloudy sky. holding hands. touching his hair. his voice. nostalgia-inducing songs. the show he’s been watching with you for the past week— the good place.

oh my god. he hasn’t kissed you yet. he knows all these things, and he hasn’t kissed you yet. how does he know you’re ticklish above the curves of your waist but not the feeling of your lips against his?

cracks form on your little facade of nonchalance when you lose feeling in your hands all the way to your fingertips, the jar of honey slipping away from your weakened grip. it doesn’t break but rolls on the ground, a steady stream of the sticky liquid spreads on the oak flooring, saturating its rather light color.

because you learn that jungkook is the type to hold your neck when he’s kissing you, and his hand moves to back of your head to grip your hair when he starts using tongue, almost as if he knows you’ll need to be tugged back into reality because oh my god, you can feel yourself drowning in him. you’ve always known he is a passionate lover, he has to be, but all the nights you spent imagining your first kiss did not prepare you for this. not rushed or slow, but addictingly sensual and sweet. coaxing you to fall deeply in love, to make him the center of the universe.

good heavens, his lips are so soft.

there is no oxygen in your lungs or coherent thoughts in your head. jungkook and honey. the only two things that make sense. the only two things you perceive.

but you will yourself to lean back, pushing away his shoulders lightly. his drunk eyes meet yours, tongue darting out to lick off the remaining honey on his cherry pink lips. he can only taste and smell honey. in fact, he even feels it seaping past the heels of his feet. uncomfortable. wet. sticky. but he can’t give two fucks because if he doesn’t taste more of it from your tongue he’s convinced he will die from the yearning of a broken heart.

“no, more. c’mere.” he murmurs in a daze, bending over to your level with his head tilted to the side, desperate to satiate his thirst, but you lean back again to avoid his lips.

“no ‘more’. the next person to kiss me has to be my boyfrie-”

you’re rudely interrupted by his voracity. he stubbornly cages your face in his big hands and connects his lips with yours. your hands close into fists, and you punch your thigh in frustration because you don’t have the strength it takes to pull away for the second time. not when you’re enjoying it this much.

it feels far too real to be a dream, but you’d hate to deprive yourself of an experience that feels as raw and heavenly.

he leaves a tender peck on your lips before completely pulling away, shaky and breathless as his heart races inside his chest. he anchors each of his hand on your chair and the table, leaving you trapped with nowhere to go. you look up at him with glossy eyes as you try and process what the fuck just happened.

this man made of dreams, tan skin kissed by the warm glow of a flickering flame, has made it his mission to mess with your head and to make a home in your heart.

“i am your boyfriend, baby.”

the pet name forces you to bite back a foolish smile, but god, you want to run laps across the street and scream at the edge of a cliff because why does it sound so sweet and loving coming from him?

fuck it being cliche. to you, he invented it.

you roll your eyes, unable to hide the giddy smile growing on your face. “well, you kissed me again so you have to take responsibility. i don’t just let anyone kiss me as much as they want, you know?”

jungkook chuckles in amusement. you never fail to sound so convincing. if you endorsed a rag as a luxury item, he would definitely buy it.

he actually needs one to clean off the spilled honey all over your kitchen floor. where do you keep those again?

he turns your chin to his direction, greeting you with a playful grin. “then that means i’m allowed to kiss you all i want from now on, right?”

—

“jungkook! the light is green!”

your familiar voice and the continuous honking from behind snaps out your boyfriend from watching the flashbacks of your first kiss playing inside his head like a movie scene. his car finally starts moving forward, and he glances at you briefly with a wince.

“you need to stop daydreaming on the road! what if i wasn’t here?” you scold him with a whine, the angry honking of the car from earlier still ringing in your ears.

this is why driving isn’t for you.

“sorry, baby. i swear it doesn’t happen often.”

you frown, glaring at him from the passenger seat. “better not. can’t have you in a car accident or i’ll go insane.”

jungkook smiles guiltily. “don’t worry. can’t have you going insane either.”

you don’t respond anymore, sinking back on your seat as you entertain yourself with watching the terrifyingly tall buildings of seoul fall behind you like dominoes.

that’s until your gaze falls on jungkook’s hand intertwined with yours on top of your thigh.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.” you reply softly, pressing a small kiss on the back of his hand.

meanwhile, jungkook finds himself oddly disappointed to see that the bee on his sideview mirror has flown away. when did his little winged friend leave?

as soon as he stops at another red light, he hastily removes his seatbelt to reach over for you. you watch in bewilderment as he almost hits his face with it.

“baby, may i have a kiss?”

you giggle, amused with your man pleading for you with his wide doe eyes. what kind of daydreaming was he so invested in back there, huh?

“you need it that bad?”

he nods eagerly.

you grant him a sweet smack, but he knows what he wants, and he gets it for himself. he pulls you back in by the neck for a deep kiss, slower than usual, almost as if he’s memorizing the feeling, burning it into memory. you get swayed by the intimate communication of his affection, and your nails unconsciously dig in on his forearm. he swallows down a hiss.

every kiss shared with you since four years ago tastes the same to jungkook. the honey lingers in his memory, in his mouth. and still, he finds himself craving more of it in his every waking moment. you truly did something life-changing back then, coating your lips with a lifetime’s worth of a love spell.

he settles down on the driver’s seat with a satisfied smirk painted across his face. you squint at him suspiciously as he fastens his seatbelt back on.

“what’s that smile for?”

“nothing.”

the cheeky raise of his eyebrow says otherwise, however. you got yourself a bratty boyfriend, you think to yourself with a sigh.

“yah, what’s that sigh for?!”

you teasingly exaggerate the shrug of your shoulders as you scrunch your nose.

“nothing.”

—

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[jisungsdaydreamer]

Dress

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»

SYNOPSIS When Minho buys a really ugly dress for you, but you don't want to hurt his feelings.

Pairing: Lee Know x fem!reader Genre: established relationship, fluff Warnings: none :) Word Count: 1.4k

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

“Honey, I got you a surprise!”

You immediately toss aside the book you were reading and practically leap off the couch at the sound of Minho’s voice. You love surprises. Your husband enters the room with a tired look on his face, but nevertheless, he smiles lovingly at you, holding out a cute beige-colored shopping bag to you.

“I stopped by the store after work,” Minho explains, sitting down next to you as he loosens his tie.

You pause while pulling out the sparkly tissue paper at the top of the bag, touched. You know how busy Minho is these days, and the fact that he took time out of his day to get you something made you melt. “Aw, Min. You’re so sweet.”

The tips of Minho’s ears turn pink, like they always did whenever you praise him. “Look inside the bag!”

You tear through the wrapping paper, your fingertips meeting something soft. Intrigued, you pull the mystery item out excitedly, only to realize that it is the absolutely ugliest dress that you have ever set eyes on. For a moment, you just stare at it, surprised in the worst possible way.

“So? What do you think?” 

Minho’s eager voice snaps you out of your mini reverie. You gulp, racking your head for something to say. “Oh! Urm…”

His face falls. “Do you not like it?”

You shake your head vigorously. “No! I’m just so… amazed! You normally never buy clothes for me.”

Minho grins. “I know. But hey, maybe there can be two fashionistas in the family now.”

“Yeah, definitely!” You swallow, hoping he doesn’t see right through you.

Satisfied, he tilts his head towards your bedroom. “You should try it on!”

Defeated, you turn and trudge to your bedroom. Once you’re inside, you quickly pull off your favorite pajamas and change into the dress. Minho enters the room as you step into the mirror, and you truly have to clench your jaw to keep the horrified gasp that nearly escapes you.

The dress is an insult to fashion, if you’re being honest. The geometric pattern sporting an unflattering shade of orange makes you feel like a pumpkin. It looks like a shapeless blob on you, the swaths of fabric pooling unflatteringly at your waist. The knitted design is scratchy on your skin, making it incredibly uncomfortable. And to make everything worse, you catch the number on the price tag, and you want to faint.

Clearing your throat, you glance to your side over at Minho, who gazes wordlessly into the mirror at your reflection. “How do I look?”

He shakes his head softly, genuinely awestruck. “Beautiful. Just beautiful.”

You have an idea or two of what you really think you look like, but you plaster on a fake smile, hoping you’re selling it. “You’re the best husband ever.”

“I saw it in the store, and thought it would look so pretty on you.” Minho beams proudly, and he looks so innocent that you feel your heart break a little in guilt.

“Minho, baby.” You place a hand on his shoulder. “You really didn’t have to.”

He pouts. “But Changbin is hosting dinner tomorrow, and I wanted you to have something nice to wear.”

So what other option do you have than to thank him and give him a little kiss? You would wear that god-awful dress to Chanbin’s party for everyone to see, rather than hurt Minho’s feelings, right? Definitely.

“Y/N, Minho! Come on in!” Changbin opens the door, welcoming you into his home.

You don’t miss his expression of shock as he lets you in, but ever the gracious host, Changbin smoothly covers it up with a smile and hugs you both. As you and Minho walk into the living room, where all of the guests are mingling over cocktails. You get similar looks from the others, but you glance over at Minho worriedly, hoping he doesn’t notice. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to, joining in on the conversation and laughing at someone’s joke.

You inhale and let yourself relax, searching the crowd for Hyunjin and Jisung, your two good friends. You spy Jisung loitering by the dessert table, discreetly piling brownies into napkins and tucking them into his pockets for later.

“Sneaking extra brownies, are we?” You creep up behind him, making him yelp and nearly drop his brownie. 

“Seriously—” Jisung looks over at you, prepared to shoot a comeback at you when he halts. “What in the world are you wearing?”

You roll your eyes. “A dress, okay? Minho got it for me.”

“Oh.” 

“Is there something you want to say, Jisung?”

He stuffs the brownie into his mouth to obviously conceal his laughter, but you don’t miss the faint smirk on his face. “Nothing.”

You give up. “Where’s Hyunjin?”

“Late, as usual.” Jisung swallows his brownie before eyeing the mini pizza bagels at the end of the table. “I’ll be right back.”

You turn and look for Minho, finding him chatting with Seungmin. Seungmin finishes refilling his wine glass and exits the kitchen, and Minho takes the chance to slip his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

“Enjoying the party?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You nod, taking a sip of Minho’s drink. “Mhm.”

Minho looks down at you. “I’ll bet you’re getting a lot of compliments on your dress.”

“So many.” You flick an imaginary piece of lint off of said dress. You hate lying to him. 

Minho frowns, noticing how you’re avoiding his eyes, and opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, Hyunjin waltzes in, two hours after the party began.

You take the opportunity to change the subject. “Fashionably late, Hyunjin?”

“Yes, but I can’t say the same for you, Y/N.” Hyunjin bursts into laughter. “Where did you get that dress? It’s actually hideous.”

Usually, you wouldn’t mind such a comment coming from Hyunjin, because this kind of teasing banter was a normal exchange between you both. However, this time, Minho is the one who is responsible for your outfit.

And from the way the smile fades from Minho’s face, he is also listening. “What?”

You glare at Hyunjin. “No, it’s not.”

Hyunjin snickers, still not getting the hint. “You know damn well—”

“Y/N said she loved it.” Minho steps in, looking equal parts confused and upset. “I bought it for her yesterday.”

Hyunjin shuts up at last, finally realizing why you are shooting daggers at him with your eyes. “Ohhh. I was just kidding, Minho. Please don’t murder me.”

With that, Hyunjin quickly bolts out of the kitchen, leaving you and Minho alone. You peek over at Minho, only to see him sadly looking down at the floor. 

“Min…”

“I knew you hated it.” Minho puts his glass in the sink and walks out. With a frustrated groan, you follow after him, only to catch him in a very deep one-way conversation with Jisung, who just chews on his food while watching Minho rapidly ramble about cars. You understand that Minho is mortified and doesn’t want to talk to you, so you go back to Hyunjin, who has wandered into Changbin’s home gym and is messing with the weights. 

For the rest of the evening, there’s this tension you can’t name between you and Minho, and you both don’t exchange any words. When it’s time to leave, you both say goodbye to everyone before getting into your car. For a few minutes, there’s an awkward silence as Minho drives and stares straight ahead, not looking at you even once. Once you arrive at home, Minho parks, and you prepare to get down out of the car, but Minho speaks up. 

“I wish you just told me that you didn’t like the dress. Then I wouldn’t have been so embarrassed,” Minho says softly.

You sigh. “I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings, and you were so excited.”

“You should have been honest.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

Minho stays quiet for a moment, and you think he’s still disappointed, but then he looks over at you, a small grin on his face. “I’m sorry too. When you opened it I realized it really was so ugly, but I was too stubborn to admit it.”

You chuckle, relieved. “Maybe leave clothes shopping to me. You’re good at so many other things.”

“I agree. I can’t be too perfect, after all.” Minho winks at you playfully.

With an amused smile, you lean over and kiss your husband. His fashion sense may not be incredible, but you love him just the way he is.

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»

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[mssonepiece]

You said you wanted one..

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Content~Fluff

From this poll.

You and Satoru have decided to take the next step in your relationship by moving in together. You've been dating for five years now, and after bringing it up so often you decided to shoot the bullet and ask Satoru if he really wanted to find a place to grow and start a family of your own. You were nervous asking him such a question at first but he agreed that you'd been dating so long that you might as well live together. Adding that it would be much easier to sleep in the same bed when you aren't having to travel to each others houses every night. It's been a serene few weeks breaking into the new house and creating new habits. Picking a house that suited both of your requirements was very stressful on you and finally being able to relax knowing all the furniture was in place, was everything that you needed with this move. With everything being in order, you and Satoru were able to spend days at home resting on the couch or in bed. The move has brought you together much closer than you've ever been. It felt like you didn't need anything else from life in this moment. However, Satoru walking past a pet store on his way from work couldn't help himself from getting pulled into the shop. He took his time browsing around all the fish, birds, dogs, and eventually cats that were in the back of the store. There's a range of colors to pick from of small kittens, they have to be at least 3 months old. Instantly Satoru knew that he had to bring one of these kittens home to you. He remembers how you mentioned loving animals and wanting a few of your own one day, which is only temping him to buy one more. A yellowish-orange kitten with a cream colored patch covering half of its face stretches up the glass as far at it can reach, catching Satoru attention. He can't help but let out an audible 'aw' at its actions, smiling brightly at the thoughts in his head. He takes a minute to watch all the kittens play before walking up to the staff to show them which cat he will be taking home.

You got home from working at your office job about an hour ago, deciding to unpack a few of the remaining boxes lying around the house to tidy up a bit. It’s an attempt at trying to keep yourself busy while waiting for Satoru to get home from a "hard" day of teaching, though after a while you notice it seems to be taking a little longer today than normal. It’s not long before you get tired of emptying boxes and opts for putting on a tv show to past the time instead. Half an hour later the click of the front doors lock and the footsteps of Satoru's boots pulls away your attention from the show you put on. "I'm home," He shouts in a sing-song tone. "and I got something for us!" Closing the door behind him and taking his time to take his shoes off. You lunge off the couch and walk through the living room/kitchen to where the main entrance of your newly shared home is.

"Hi baby. Whatchu get?" You try getting on your tippy-toes to look around his frontside. He was attempting to hide something in his jacket but wasn’t doing a very good job as he was revealing the surprise to anyone in front of him. Satoru giggles, doing his best to not just show the cute kitten he's got on his detour to his lover. "Hey!" dragging out the 'y' when he still doesn’t show you what he's hiding. "Show me already Satoru!" You grab onto his sleeve, starting a small tug of war with him and his arm. Finally you pull him to face your direction with all your might, all he says is a quick 'tada' before presenting the small orange kitten to you in his large hands. "Oh my god.." Your jaw drops for a moment. Before you can register what's going on you're grabbing the kitten out of Satoru's hands.

"Be careful!" He jokes.

"I know. Oh my god Toru. I can't believe this! I've literally been wanting an orange cat for so long!" The smile on your face is more than worth it to Satoru.

"The worker said that this was one of their favorite cats in the store and she's such a little cuddle bug." Satoru laughs at the employees words, enjoying the view of the new responsibility. "She was climbing all over me on the walk home. She's a cutie, just like you sweetie."

"Aww. Really? That's so cute!" Your smiling so hard its starting to hurt but your certain your already in love with this kitten Satoru got. "I love her!" Cuddling the kitten up to your face you feel her purring lightly. Satoru feels a rush of heat flow through him as he watches his girlfriend with the small animal. His smile is also starting to hurt his face but he doesn’t care.

"What should we name it?" Satoru grabs your waist and pulls you into him. He has the perfect view of his girl and his kitty.

"It! Satoru!" You pet the kitten comfortingly as if it understood Satoru's comment. He rolls his eyes, giggling at the face you make and taking the chance to pull you closer. "We should name her.. hmm" You look down at the kitten to see if it'll ignite any ideas in your brain. "How about-"

"How about we name it Suguru?" Satoru chuckles.

"Shut up. We aren't naming her Suguru." You roll your eyes which only making Satoru laugh larger. "We need to pick a cute name, not our dead best friends babe." He juts out his bottom lip. He looks so cute that it makes you laugh. Your laugh always makes Satoru's heart do cartwheels, it makes him feel lightheaded knowing that he's the one making you laugh or smile. He drops his head to your shoulder, nuzzling his face into your neck. The kitten puts its small paws on his face, causing another cute laugh from you. "Aww, you look so cute together." He smiles at your comment, bringing one hand up from your waist to pet the kitten. "Let's name her Honey. Because her furs the color of honey, and she's super sweet." There's no response, you only feel Satoru nod and his hair tickling you from in your neck. You're sure you haven't dropped the smile from your face since Satoru walked through the door. Who would have guess he would have gotten you the kitten you've been wanting to get yourself for years. You always put it off due to work, worried that you wouldn't be home enough to actually take care of a kitten. Now with Satoru around it will be much easier to raise an animal. His warm breath against your neck and collar bones is relaxing, and the view of him petting and admiring your new kitten is causing butterflies in your stomach. You let out a satisfied hum as it seems life could never be better than it is now. Finally moving in with your long-term boyfriend, having a beautiful home, a stable job, and now a new pet to top it off. It truly feels like you are starting a family with Satoru after all these years..

Would y'all be interested in a part 2?

[mattheo-riddles-princess]

Madripoor || Bucky Barnes X Reader

Agent Bucky X Bratty/Agent Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Plot: Making Bucky jealous didn't totally go where you thought it would.

Warnings: praising, dirty talk, language, pet names, jealousy, a little metal arm kínk, no condom (but they are both clean and r is on birth control), implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

I can see Bucky standing by the bar with the same stoic expression on his face. He knows I'm here but he hasn't noticed me yet. I walk up to his left side, so he doesn't see me coming. 

"Are you going to ask me to dance?" I lean against the bar, not looking at him. 

He turns his head to look at me. He doesn't say anything, just staring at me. God. I hate when he stares at me like that. Or...more that I hate the way he makes me feel when he looks at me. My muscles tense up and my breath hitches. Shit. I pause, trying to plan my next moves very carefully. 

I smirk and start to speak, "Well, if you don't want to dance with me, I'm sure somebody else will."

I know he watches as I disappear into the crowd of dancing people. The music blares as I push through people. I walk up to a random guy. I've been watching him since I got here. He's been trying, (and failing), to flirt with girls all night. I know Bucky's seen him too. I pretend to be drunk and stumble into him making sure to place my hands where his abs should be. Emphasis on should be.  

"Fuck. Oh my god. I'm soooooo sorry. God." I pat where my hands were just moments before and slowly look up at him. He's moderately attractive. In a conventional way. He looks like you would imagine an attractive guy to look. He's taller than me. Around 5' 11". I can't tell what color his hair because of lights but its styled to look messy. He's not in bad shape but you can tell he's not one of those gym guys. "Oh. Wow. You're... wow." He smirks like he expected my reaction.

He grabs my hand and pulls me on the dance floor. I start grinding against him. We're dancing for about 10 minutes. All of the sudden, I have a feeling that someone is staring at me. It all happen so fast: Bucky walking up behind us, him grabbing the guys shoulder and pushing him away from me, him grabbing my arm and pulling me off the dance floor, the guy following us, shouting, and Bucky punching the guy in the face. He pulls me further down the hallway.  There are a few people in the hallway. Some making out against the wall and a few smoking joints. 

"What the fuck do you think you were doing?" Bucky's voice low. 

I cock my head to the side, confused, "What are you talking about? I wanted to dance and you wouldn't dance with me. So I found someone who would."

He doesn't say anything and I notice the position were standing. My back up against the wall and Bucky in front of me, his face close, and his arms holding himself up by my head. 

"You know," my voice playful and teasing, "if you're jealous-"

"I'm not jealous," He cuts me off immediately. His voice short. 

"Oh. Of course not. But, if you were, that would be fine." I smirk my eyes not leaving his. 

He grunts in response. 

"Well, if we're done here," I duck under his arms and start walking back toward the dance floor.

He grabs my arm and pulls me back towards him. Within a millisecond, his lips are locked on mine, and they don't seem to have any interest in leaving. 

I break away and Bucky look at me. Before he can say anything, I grab his arm and pull him the opposite direction down the hall. I've been here before so I know exactly where I'm going. We enter a room and I shut the door, locking it behind us. As soon as the door is locked, I'm back to kissing him. He picks me up and puts me on the bed, not separating his lips from mine. I feel his metal arm sliding up my thigh until he's at my panties. I moan at his touch. 

I sit up and start working on his belt. It doesn't take long and as soon as its off, I'm unzipping his jeans. He pulls his boxers down with his jeans and I take off my panties. 

He stares at me in awe. "My god. Are you sure you want to do this? With me?"

I nod.

"Doll," he looks at me expectantly, "I'm going to need you to use your words."

"Yes, sir." I pause, unsure of how he feels about me calling him sir.

He takes a deep breath, "Fuck."

I pulls me closer to the edge of the bed and pumps his cock in his hand a few times before pushing it inside of me. He's slow at first, making sure to constantly check in on me. 

He starts pulsing in and out, faster. He picks me up and flips us over so I'm on top. 

He has his metal arm on my waist, guiding my movement, and his other arm works to unzip my dress. Within a matter of seconds, my dress is on the ground and he leans back as both of his hands guide me. 

He sits up guiding me but also kissing his way down my neck until he reaches my breasts. He flicks his tongue and I moan as he does. Everything he does drives me crazy. His hands grip my waist tighter. 

He leans back so he can see all of my on top of him. Riding him. Enjoying every moment of it. 

"Oh. FUCK! Bucky- oh- fuck," I try not to scream.

"Scream as loud as you want, doll. You're doing so good. I'm so proud of you. Taking all of me. Good girl. Oh. Fuck. Keep going, love. Oh. That's so good." His voice is low and he moans as he speaks. 

I buck forward and lean over him. He keeps guiding me but he takes more control. His hips thrusting his dick in and out. Over and over. Hitting the spot every single time. 

"Fuck. Oh. GOD. Right there. Oh. That's it. Right there." My arms give out and I'm laying on top of him. 

He chuckles under me followed by a deep moan. 

My can feel myself reaching my high and I know he can feel it too.

"That's it. You're so close. Oh. That's it. Good girl." His voice is breathy and full of pride.

My eyes roll into my head and my back arches. I let out a loud moan as I orgasm. 

"Oh. Good girl. Oh. Thats so good. Fuck." I can feel Bucky finish. We lay there, still, listening to each other breathing. 

"Fuck, Bucky. That was amazing." I let out a small laugh as I speak. 

"Doll, you can call me James."

I look up at him in surprise, "Really?" 

"Of course, love. You can do whatever you want to me. I fucking love you. I've wanted to tell you for so long but I love you so fucking much."

I pause. "I love you too. I can't tell you how much I wanted to kiss you every time I saw you. Every time you look at me, I just want to fold and give you everything. I love you so fucking much."

We lay there in silence for a while, neither of us wanting to move. 

"I love you." Bucky whispers.

"I love you too, James."

[jennaajoseph]

❛ Make-up practice. ❜ ⸻ Jake Gyllenhaal x Reader.

── ﹙౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ MASTERLIST&INFO.﹚. ☆

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ SUMMARY. ⸻ Jake agreed suggested to practice your make-up skills on him.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ PAIRING. ⸻ jake gyllenhaal x gn!reader.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ CONTENTS. ⸻ fluff, bf!jake, cursing, I know nothing about makeup artists!!!!, gender neutral reader.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ A/N. ⸻ Jake with long hair inspired me to do this.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ CREDITS. ⸻ photos - pinterest , divider - @/cafekitsune.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ﹙©jennaajoseph﹚

"I feel like I'm losing my make-up skills, I don't like any of my work anymore." You sighed.

You were a make-up artist for nearly 4 years, but now you're feeling like you're not good enough at your work anymore.

"What? Why?" Jake asked surprised, his head peaked out of the kitchen doorframe.

He absolutely adored your work, he was always excited to see new makeups you've done. Overall, he was your biggest supporter.

"I don't know, I'm just not feeling it anymore." You sat on the couch.

"You are saying nonsense." He entered the living room and sat next to you. "I love your work, and you know that."

You chuckled. "I know, I just feel that I need to practice more, I'm not as good as I used to be."

He rolled his eyes. "You are the most talented make-up artist I know!"

"And the only one you know."

"Maybe, but still the best one!"

"Thank you, but I don't feel like it." You smiled gently and pulled him into a hug.

He returned the hug. "You know what, if you want to practice, you can do it on me."

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah! As your biggest fan I would love that!" He said excitedly.

"You're really hyped up for this, aren't you?" You chuckled.

"Of course I am! Bring your stuff here."

You smiled and quickly went to your and Jake's shared bedroom for a bag of cosmetics that you used on your clients.

"You got any ideas?" You said, and placed the bag on the table.

"Anything you do will be wonderful."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "I hate when people say that..."

He chuckled. "Okay then, do something..." He stopped for a moment to think. "Green?"

"Green? Really?" You raised your eyebrow.

"What? Is green a bad color?"

"It's awful!" You laughed.

"I hope that's not what you say to your clients when they want green themed make-up..."

"You are not my client..."

"Oh, so that gives you the privilege to say that my choice is bad?" He faked a shocked face.

"Okay, okay, let's go with green..." You sighed playfully.

"Now I don't want green anymore, you said it's awful!" He pouted.

"C'mon Jake!" You tried to hold your laugh.

"Pretend that I'm your client! Suggest me something!"

You grabbed a hair tie and tied his hair back from his face. "Pink?" You said jokingly.

"Sounds good." He smiled as you finished tying his hair.

"Okay let's get to work then." You said with a big smile.

⭑⭒⭒

"Okay, I'm done." After an hour and a half, you were done with his makeover. Still, you weren't really happy with your work, but it wasn't that bad as you thought it would be.

You handed him a mirror so he could see himself for the first time.

"Oh fuck, I look fucking awful with make-up on." He gasped.

You laughed as you threw yourself against the couch while he was dramatizing about how bad he looks.

"I told you, my make-up skills went down..." You sat back up and zipped up your makeup bag.

"No, I mean, it looks amazing, but god I look fucking awful!" He said, still staring at himself in the mirror. "I don't think I'm a good person to practice make-up on..."

You smiled and pulled him into a hug. He put down the mirror and wrapped his arms around you.

"You look hot" You joked, trying not to laugh.

He rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh, thank you"

You chuckled and untied his hair, styling it a little after. He pulled you into a kiss and you broke away immediately. "I'm going to have this stupid lipstick all over my face now!"

He laughed and kissed you again, you sighed and kissed him back this time.

"Besides, the make-up is really good." He said breaking the kiss.

"You are the most supportive boyfriend in the whole world." You cupped his face with both your hands. The lipstick was smudged all over yours, and his lips. "You can wipe everything off if you don't like how it looks on you."

"You spend half an hour on this! I'm not wiping it off until it's time for bed."

"Are you serious?" You tilted your head to the side.

"Yep, because I'm the most supportive boyfriend in the whole world." He repeated what you said earlier and grinned.

"Let me at least fix your lipstick." You unzipped your bag again and took out the lipstick you used on him earlier.

"Anything you do is perfect, love." He said kissing you for the last time before you fixed the lipstick on him.

Even though Jake said that he looks awful with make-up on, it wasn't the last time he suggested you to practice on him.

[chvnnie]

It wasn’t easy to convince him to agree to this. In fact, you’re not sure if this is what he really wants or if he gave in just to get you to stop bringing it up every time you have sex.

SMUT — MINORS DNI

Even if that’s the case, how could you complain when he looks so pretty in the dimmed lights of the bedroom. Chest flushed, bottom lip between his teeth as he exhaled a shaky breath. His eyes aren’t on you, but on the toy around your waist. The one that’s diving deeper inside him, moving at an agonizing slow pace.

You giggle, reaching out to stroke his jaw. When your fingertips brush his chin, Minho looks up at you. Big, pretty eyes. Helplessness fills every corner of his gaze though he tries to hide it.

Maybe he didn’t really want it at first. But now, there’s no doubt he’ll be begging you for this again.

“Aw, what’s wrong, pretty?” You tease, a thumb on his bottom lip pulling down. Releasing it from his bite. The skin is punctured, dark red blood pearling on the sensitive surface. With your digit, you spread it across the expanse of the lip. Painting blood like lipstick. “Too much?”

Minho whimpers, shaking his head quickly. “N-no.”

“Not enough?”

Ah, that brings a nod from him. His hands come to your hips, nailing digging into the leather strap as he tries to bring you in closer. To have the thick dildo fill more of him up. The one he fought so hard against.

Your hand moves quickly from his chin, finding grip on his dark hard and yanking. Hard. Minho cries out, his cock twitching on his abs from the pain.

“Impatient.” You click your tongue, retracting your hips back. The toy slides until only the tip is inside of him. Nothing compared to what he so desperately needs. “Don’t be such a slut, or you won’t get my cock at all.”

You can see it. The fire hasn’t burned out in his eyes — a piece of him is still angry. That you would speak to him like this, that you would overpower him. That you would demean him by showing him how much he enjoys being pegged by you.

It’s cute. You like watching him suffer.

“Say sorry.” You coo, a cold hand wrapping around his cock. Minho shutters, the feeling of finally being touched enough to make him moan. Loud, deep.

“‘M sorry.” He gives in quickly his time, hands falling from your hips to show he means it. “I’m sorry, j-just please don’t stop touching me—“

“Oh? You like this?” Giving his cock one harsh, rough tug, Minho is verging on tears. It feels so good — your hands, the dildo. God, it’s all so good.

“So much.” He’s whining. You’ve never heard him make a sound like that before. Where’s all that dominance he brags about? Where’s the asshole who you can't stand outside the bedroom, the one who said he’d never kneel for anyone — especially you?

He’s the one begging beneath you so beautifully. It’s so nice to bring the untouchable down.

Humming, you roll your hips. Pushing the strap on deeper inside him. Slowly, the pace agony for him. You move until you’re so close to his spot that it brings tears to his eyes. Right there, you just need to move a little more—

“Do you want to cum?” You ask, rubbing a thumb up and down the vein of his cock.

Minho doesn’t hesitate, nodding quickly. “P-please?”

You lean in until your chest is against his, hand still firmly gripping his cock. Lips hovering above his, the blood staining them a pretty scarlet color. His breath is fanning over your face. Waiting. For your lips to meet, for you to pull out. For anything.

“Anything for you, angel.”

Your hips buck, pushing the toy so deep inside so quickly that Minho cries out against your lips. Pushing yourself back up, you grab a hold of his hips as you set a brutal pace.

He’s pinned the bed, legs spread wide and head thrown back against the pillow. His body is like a sculpture, handcrafted just for you. Yours to please, yours to fuck. Whatever you want to do to Minho.

And now, all you want to do to him is make him shatter. Break the marble into sharp pieces. Destroy the beauty. Leave him as nothing, as he always does with you.

“Is this what you fucking wanted?” You almost have to shout to be heard over his cries. “Hm? To be fucked like a little bitch?”

It’s like all Minho can do is cry. His hands gripping the sheets, head rolled back as he releases the prettiest sounds that you feel deserve an audience.

“Fuck.” He curses. “B-baby, please—“

Oh, the begging is too much. You can’t stop giggling, your whole body on fire from how pathetic he’s acting. “You’re so cute when you cry.” Grabbing his cock again, you start to pump with the beat of your hips. “Let’s see how pretty you are when you cum.”

What a delight it is to have his cock in your hands, the cum running down your wrist. There’s so much of it; puddling on his stomach, rolling down to the sheets. Everywhere.

When he’s finished, you grab his face again. Hold it still as you push your cum covered fingers in his mouth, making him gag on it. Forcing him to lick them clean.

“Good bitch.” You say so sweetly, grinning so evilly down at him.

To your surprise, the fire has died in his eyes. Replaced with awe, a slow smile spreading across his face. You’ve broken the unbreakable, putting the pieces back together in a way that compliments you better.

Though, it’s hard to extinguish a fire like Minho’s.

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe Colors Finale

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also.It's just colors and vibes here. It's been a chaotic journey, but it finally ends today, most likely with a character death, so . . .

Disclaimer: I'm just screaming this entire post.

Surprising absolutely no one, Barbara immediately forgave Charles. Like I wrote last week, I'll hold this grudge for both of us, Babe.

If this bastard is still alive by the end of this, there is no justice in the world.

Did he just give them a key to get out? They could just walk through a door, but . . . I'll take it. Kentana is trying to redeem himself. Now, KILL YOUR SHITTY FATHER, and you will earn the top place in my heart.

Don't do it, Way Way. Don't. I see you eyeing that man, but you will take zero bullets for Pete or Babe. Am I clear?! NONE! I don't care if you are wearing white compared to everyone else's black. You will not die. No.

I'm not even going to say shit about these two's colors because BIG RED JUST KILLED A KID!

OH FUCK! HE IS KILLING EVERYONE!

KIMBERLY! I LOVE YOU!

And this is why you deserve to die. Who does something like this? It's not a porn, sir. This is a murder. You're about to die. Not get laid.

WAYMOND, NO! I TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCKING DO THIS! NOOOOOOOOOO!

I know it's blood, but the 'smoke' being red too is great and I need more of it as BIG RED DIES FOR KILLING WAY WAY!

Y'all are letting Big Red talk too much while Way Way is just bleeding out on the floor, and I just need one of y'all to apply pressure to the wound so Way has a fighting chance. Please for the love of God. PLEASE! LET WAY LIVE!

Oh, shit, this is awful. Do NOT think about any good memories with this man who wore red in the past but no longer does for some wacky reason. Those memories are all tainted. He is awful. KILL HIM ALREADY AND GET WAY WAY TO THE HOSPITAL!

I HATE HIM! Barbara, don't you trade your life for Charles. Don't fucking do it. Charles came back from the dead once. He can do it again. KILL BIG RED ALREADY!

OH MY FUCKING GOD, YES! I LOVE KENTA! KILL HIM!

YOU KILLED YOUR SHITTY FATHER! YOU'VE DONE WHAT NO OTHER BL BOY HAS EVER DONE!

YOU WON MY HEART!

Now, someone go hug him! Pete what the fuck are you doing?! One boyfriend is dying and another is breaking down. DO SOMETHING, PETER!

I knew this was going to happen! I knew Way was gonna die taking a bullet for Babe. I knew it, and I'm still upset! WHY?! Why can't Peter have TWO boyfriends?! Why do we always have to kill someone to redeem them and to cancel them out of the poly plot equation. LET POLY HAPPEN!

Fuck, Alan is crying.

FUCK!

I will not be pacified with Jeffrey finally being consumed by blue. I'm still very upset about Way Way having to die instead of Peter just having two boyfriends.

Vegas' Hedgehog, I'm so over your ass! Red flowers?! At Way's funeral?! That is sooooo rude! What is wrong with you?! Read the room, you pretty bitch! RED IS OUT! Way died for the blue! THE BLUE!

I hate this necklace. I hate that Way is dead instead of being taken care of by his two boyfriends. Where the hell is Ken anyway?! Why is he not holding Peter's hand right now? WHAT IS THIS LIE?!

I trust your dad, Barbie, because he is wearing blue, but you have had to cry a thousand tears this episodes, and I pray like GMMTV's First, you stay hydrated because crying can wreck havoc on a thirsty body.

Y'all cannot fuck the grief away in the blue. You can try, but Waymond is still gonna be dead instead of having two boyfriends. This is a real problem, and I want it addressed. RIGHT NOW!

KIMBERLY! YOU'RE BLUE NOW!

Everyone is in blue, and then we have Vegas' fucking Hedgehog in those damn orange pants, and . . . AHHHHHHH *starts throwing clothes around the room and out the window*

Barbie is lighter. He is still black, but now he has the white mixed with it while he looks longingly into the eyes of his Blue Boy (who lied to him several times including lying about his death, pero I'll carry this grudge for both of us, Barbara)

Now why the fuck are you wearing red, Alan?! Why won't this show just let me have nice things?!

So . . . now that this is all over and I, unsurprisingly, did NOT get poly nor Kenta x Pete, I will be unblocking the tags because seeing black boxes on my dash is driving me crazy, and I need to reblog some GIFs of Kimberly, Alan, and Waymond x Peter x Kentana to fill this huge void in my heart where a poly plot would have perfectly fit.

I will never go back and watch this show with subs. Never. Whatever I got from it was exactly what I needed to get from it, and I need nothing else. Because what I got was a boy FINALLY deciding to

KILL HIS SHITTY FATHER

Kenta, you deserve my respect. You loved Pete. You helped all the guys in your own way. You killed your shitty dad. You committed queer wrongs, and I forgive every single one of them. You deserve a happy life, and I hope you are laying in Pete's bed with his arms around you thinking about what y'all will have for breakfast, so he can read your mind and go make it for you.

I like you.

I respect you.

I love you.

And so does Pete.

GIVE ME POLY, DAMN IT!

[sissylittlefeather]

Your Love's Been a Long Time Coming: Chapter 2

A/N: Second installment of the Elvis x OC Vivian Choquette series! We pick up in 1961 during the filming of Blue Hawaii. I really hope you all stay on board for this one. I have the next 4ish chapters planned out and there's some fun stuff coming...

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

As always, thank you for your help and encouragement, bestie @ccab!

Warnings: Still pretty tame, kissing, cussing, alcohol use, references to sex/oral sex, fist fighting

Word count: ~2k

"Hello again..."

******

"Hi..."

"Oh, you two know each other?"

"Yeah we met in..."

"Germany." She finishes the sentence for him because he doesn't seem to be capable of it. He's still in awe of her. She hasn't changed much since the last time he saw her and he's still spellbound.

"Good. That should make this easy then." The director turns away from the conversation and leaves them to get reacquainted.

"I-I I didn't know you were an actress?" He tries not to visibly cringe when his nerves make him stutter. She gives him a half smile.

"Yeah, I'm just starting out really. This is my first movie role."

"And you're the lead?"

"You're the lead. I'm just your girlfriend." I wish. He thinks, but doesn't say it out loud.

"Well, still, good for you."

"Thanks... so listen."

"Hmm?" He shifts a little as someone walks behind him and forces him closer to her. She looks up at him and he notices how her eyes are the same color as the ocean when it's deep.

"Let's not make this awkward, okay?"

"Oh, of course not." He nods reassuringly.

"We can be... friends." His heart sinks a little. Friends. That's all she wants.

"Sure. Friends sounds good." It doesn't sound good at all, but he'll settle for friends if that's what it takes to be around her.

"Elvis! Come meet some of the other cast members." The director calls from across the room. Elvis nods at Vivian.

"I'll see you around. I gotta..."

"Yeah. Go, Mr. Movie Star." She pats his shoulder lightly and a shiver runs all the way down his spine. He hopes he'll be able to keep it together around her for the whole movie.

******

"CUT. VIVIAN! THAT'S STILL WRONG." The director is yelling from his place behind the cameras. Elvis stands and watches as she struggles to do what she needs to do. He can tell that she's getting more and more frustrated as the takes go on and on. For some reason, she can't seem to wrap her head around the necessary lines. Elvis is dying to try to help her, but it's not the time or the place. She looks at her feet and shakes her hands and he knows she's trying not to cry. Every time the director yells at her, she gets more flustered.

"OKAY. AGAIN."

They try the scene again and Elvis holds his breath, begging God to help her get it right.

But she doesn't. She misses it again.

"CUT. Alright. That's enough for today." They've been trying to get the scene all day long and the director is done. Elvis hangs his head as the director stomps over to Vivian. He can't really hear what he's saying, but when she starts crying and begging, he takes a couple steps closer.

"Please, please let me try again tomorrow. Please don't do this to me. Please."

"I'm not wasting another day of filming. We're replacing you. We have another actress ready to go. You're fired."

"No! Please!"

"Okay. You're not completely fired. You can have a non-speaking part." The director turns and walks away from her. Vivian looks around at everyone watching and takes off running away from the set.

"Viv! Wait!" Elvis calls out to her and tries to follow her. He loses her somewhere in the trailers though and isn't exactly sure where she's gone. When he finds her trailer, he knocks on the door, but he doesn't hear any noise inside. He waits for a few minutes and then turns to walk away. Thats when he hears something hit the door and break. He knocks on the door louder this time.

"Viv, let me in!"

"Go away!" He decides to try the door. It's unlocked, so he opens it and slips inside.

CRASH

He ducks quickly as something hits the wall above his head and breaks.

"Viv! What the hell?!"

"I need another glass." He looks at her sitting on the couch with a bottle of vodka clutched to her. "Or maybe I don't."

She takes a pull straight from the bottle and grimaces.

"Vivian." He walks over and sits down next to her. She offers him the bottle and he declines.

"I got fired."

"I know. Are you okay?" She looks at him and laughs.

"I feel like you're always asking me that. I'll answer the same way I did last time. Do I look okay?" She takes another swig from the vodka bottle.

"No. You don't." He grabs the bottle when she gets it back to her lap and sets it on the coffee table.

"Hey..." She goes to reach for it and he pulls her to him, holding her with her head on his shoulder.

"No, that's enough." Even he's surprised by his command of the situation, but he knows more alcohol is the last thing she needs. He's not sure how much was in the bottle to start, but there's only about a third of it left. Her body quakes as she begins to cry again.

"I p-promised my stepdad I would make this acting thing work out."

"Why does he care?"

"He's tired of the burden I've become since I'm not married. He said he never dreamed I'd still be around." A wave of rage washes over Elvis. He's never met the man, but he imagines punching him if he did.

"Honey, it's not your fault you're not married." She sits up.

"Well I know that. Tell him!" She settles back into his shoulder. "Kinda is my fault though because I won't just marry anyone."

"Oh?" He dismisses the fleeting thought of proposing just to give her a way out.

"No. I want to be madly in love when I get married. I want to be so in love that we can't stand to be apart from each other for another minute." She sits up again and turns to him with a dreamy look in her eyes. "I want to positively burn for my husband and I want him on fire for me. You know?"

He nods as his heart races. Could she love him like that?

"I know exactly what you mean." He whispers.

Just then, she grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him into her, pressing her lips to his. He melts into her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to him. She opens her mouth and slides her tongue into his and the passion mounts as their tongues take turns dipping into the other's mouth. He can feel her hands against his chest and she whimpers a little. He pulls back and looks into her deep-ocean eyes and then leans in and kisses her cheek, down to her jawline, and then on down to her neck. She snakes her arms around his shoulders and pulls him with her as she lays back on the couch. He rearranges so that he's on top of her, rolling his hips into hers.

Is this it? Is this how they begin? His mind is racing as they continue to kiss deeply.

"Elvis, stop."

"What?" He backs away breathlessly and looks into her face.

"Are you in love with me?" His heart skips a beat. Is he?

"I-I-I..."

"Because I need you to know that this would just be sex. I'm really drunk and sad and I'm just not... I don't want to give you the wrong idea."

"How drunk?"

"That was a new bottle of vodka." When she says it, he notices how heavy her eyelids are and that her words are a little fuzzy around the edges. He feels like someone has knocked the wind out of him. Sitting up, he runs his hand through his hair and closes his eyes.

"You are, aren't you?" She asks him calmly.

"I didn't say that."

"Then why did you stop?"

"You're too drunk. I don't even know if you want this." She laughs and he looks down at her sadly.

"Oh, trust me. I want it."

"Well, I don't. Not like this." She sits up and glares at him.

"Then why the hell are you here, Elvis?!"

"I don't know."

"Fine. Get out, then." He stands up, grabbing the bottle of vodka as he does. He tries to head for the door, but she yanks the bottle away from him "Goodbye, Elvis."

Deeply discouraged, he walks out the door and down the steps to go back to the hotel. Is he in love with her?

******

The next day, he's sitting around with the guys during a break. They've brought in the new actress to play his girlfriend and she's great, but he wishes they'd given Vivian another chance. He looks up just as she walks by to sit with another actress about twenty yards away.

"You see her?" Joe asks the group of guys with a wry smile.

"Vivian?" Elvis asks confused.

"Yeah. She's got a hell of a mouth on her." He laughs raucously and pushes one of the other guys.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Joe?" Elvis feels himself start to seethe, hoping Joe isn't talking about what he thinks he's talking about.

"She came to my room last night. She gives great h-" Without another thought, Elvis is on top of him, throwing punches. The idea of him with Vivian makes him see red. And then him here talking that way about her pushes him over the edge. All the guys jump and holler, trying to pull them apart.

"Elvis, stop!!" It's Vivian's voice that cuts through the rest of the noise and gets to him. He drops Joe and stumbles backwards, breathing heavily. Blood drips from his nose where Joe landed a good defensive blow. "God. Men. Come with me."

She drags Elvis to a chair and makes him sit down. Then, she disappears for a bit. He considers getting up, as mad as he is, but he stays put until she comes back with some wet napkins to clean up his nose.

"What the hell were you thinking? You... with Joe?!"

"Elvis, I told you I was drunk and sad. You said no, so I found someone else." He feels another wave of rage rush through him.

"Just like that, huh? I really don't mean anything to you."

"You said you weren't in love with me. I told you we could be friends. That means you're going to have to be okay with me being with other guys. But if you're in love with me-"

"I'm not." It feels like a lie, but he wants it to be true.

"Good. Then, get over it." She says it softly as she finishes with his nose and pats his cheek gently. Then, she puts a hand on each arm of the chair and leans in close to him. "Listen, I like you a lot, Elvis. You're a great guy and it's probably a good thing you said no because I could fall in love with you. But I've seen you with girls. I know you have several on the hook right now. We can never be more than friends for that reason alone. I need someone on fire for me and no one else. Can you understand that?"

He looks down at his hands in his lap where bruises are starting to form. It's true, he does have a steady rotation of girls. And he has no way to make her believe that he would stop all that if they got together. Even he's not sure he could be true forever. But he'd certainly try, for her. Still, why would she ever trust him?

"Friends?" He looks up into her deep-water eyes again.

"Friends." She takes one of his bruised hands and kisses his knuckles gently. He actively ignores the way his heart skips when she does.

"With benefits?" He smiles coyly and she puts her hand on his forehead and pushes it backwards.

"We'll see..."

******

Until next time... thoughts?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed!):

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @jhoneybees @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

pls ma’am… may i have some more gaslamp!au? 🥹🫶🏻

"I don't know Stephanie this seems-"

"Please?" Stephanie pouted, "My stupid brother ruined you. It's the least I could do to get you some new dresses."

"You did find me a place to live and it's not as if I don't have things to wear," you point out.

"And some of them are lovely," Stephanie started, "But-"

"IF," Cassandra started slightly louder to cut her off before she could say something accidentally rude, "you don't let her she'll just have them made and they'll all be- well. Stephanie dresses."

"What's the matter with my dresses?" Stephanie asked archly.

"Nothing, dearest," Barbara said patiently, "except that they won't suit Y/N. Your coloring is different. And she's well- blessed- in ways that you aren't."

"So you see," Cass said, offering you a napkin to cough behind where you'd inhaled tea helpfully, "it really is for the best."

"I- I-" you break off, still sputtering and Barbara gets to her feet determinedly.

"Well," she declared, "if we're going out I'll have to send for a carriage. God knows we won't be carrying our own packages."

"And Tim," Cass said. "He needs to get out of the manor before the maids take to dusting him again."

"And Tim," Barbara amended, "he complains less anyway as long as we give him a book or two to read while he waits."

"What kind of book?" you ask curiously.

"Awful, boring things about math and chemistry," Stephanie sighed. "Honestly."

"Oh-"

"Dearest?" Barbara asked frowning, looking at you, halfway to the door, "What did happen to your books?"

"I- I don't know. I only- I'd imagine most of them were thrown away. Except for the ones I could carry with me. I didn't have many. I couldn't keep many after Papa died and I had to leave the house." Not for the first time, there's a hollow pang in your chest. You miss- you miss a lot of things. But sprawling on your belly in the drawing room while your father answered letters and reading out loud. The thought of your little collection being gone. After carefully carrying it from school to the attic. Hiding it from rambunctious hands and angry aunts. You can't stop the tears.

And you can't articulate why either. Not when it sounds so stupid to say out loud. You aren't a little girl. You're nearly on the shelf. Old enough that it shouldn't matter- but it does.

"Well that just won't do," Stephanie said. "Absolutely not."

"I don't- I'm sorry- I-"

"Hush," Cass said, handing you another napkin, coming to kneel next to your chair to pat your hand. "We'll get your books back- or at least. Jason will. Sometimes him looking big and scary can be good for something."

[saltsicklover]

Part Seven

This one is on the shorter side, but there is so much angst and imagery stuffed into this baby. Once again, hurt my heart to write and I hope you enjoy it!

Title: Once an Asshole, Always an Asshole

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2700+

Rating: R

Warnings: Swearing, illusions to nausea/being sick, mentions of blood and loose teeth, pocket knife/blade, so much angst. Mentions of the Bradshaw's. Dumbass Bob Floyd.

Second Chance Romance!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bob Floyd, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

---

Sunny disappears into the crowd, leaving the Daggers standing there, open mouthed and confused, too stunned to do anything but stand there. Natasha takes that moment to bend down to pick up the object that was thrown at Bob's chest; one of those gift shop pocket knives, the name "Robert" engraved on the side. The paint is chipped, the letters once a beautiful turquoise now flaking and faded. 

The swell in Bob's chest leaves him feeling flaky and faded too, chipped around the edges from the confrontation. Palms are sticky with sweat, his fingers sticking together. He doesn't meet anyone's eyes- she walked out the door with his gaze still stuck to her shoulder blades. 

Natasha is angry now, all the hurt that was directed at Bob has seared pain into her skin. Phoenix holds it out to Bob but he doesn't notice, his eyes unfocused, the colors of the crowd swirling around his vision. 

Bob is drawn back to the Daggers with a swift push to his shoulder. He's met with Natasha's burning eyes melting their way into his own. She slams the blade onto the table, her palm doing little to muffle the sound. Bob jumps, gooseflesh breaking out over his skin. The sick feeling swarming in his stomach doesn't let up, and neither do the eyes of his teammates. 

"What is this, Bob?" Her tone is sharp, so sharp he can almost feel the way is slices across his skin. Maybe bleeding would have been easier to digest. When he finally flicks his eyes over the object, his peripheral catches Natasha's hand tensing and releasing. The turquoise is older now, worn with age and use, but he would recognize it anywhere. His luck knife. He hasn't seen that knife in ten years. He lost it on Prom night, he lost it after his fight with her. All of his luck must have gone with it. 

"Oh my god, I haven't seen that in..." Bob's words trail off, the puzzle pieces finally falling into place. His eyes go wide at the realization, heart beating erratically. 

Sunny had seemed familiar to him the moment her hair dropped from the delicate twists she had it pulled back in. From the way it dropped in front of her eyes, the little hints of color peaking out from behind them. He swore he recognized the gentle slope of her jaw, the undisturbed flesh from the tip of her chin all the way up to the lobe of her ear. 

Her jewelry glittered in the light, yet his eyes were transfixed to her skin- the familiarity of it. The flesh of a long lost love that he couldn't quite place. 

Frankly, he should have recognized her the moment her brows lowered in frustration, after all, he spent the later portion of his teen years looking at that same expression. Suddenly he wishes she was still standing in front of him, giving him that awful look; at least then she would still be standing there with him. 

He had only seen her in a dress once, but it was shrouded by the darkness of the sky, then. He remembers it perfectly, the delicate beading and the cool feeling of the fabric. He remembers the tennis shoes she wore and how the sight of them made his heart flutter, laughter falling from his lips. It was the most authentic he had ever seen her. 

Bob knows that he could pick Duchenne out of a crowd, blindfolded and unannounced. He could figure her out by touch alone- from the way her breathing would catch as he let his fingers trace over the plane of her torso, feeling her bottom rib with a gentle brush of his knuckles.

That's not to say he wouldn't recognize the way he smelt, the vanilla perfume layered over a musky cologne. Or the way her lips tasted like cherry flavored Chapstick, (something she only wore because it reminded her of how his tobacco smelt, not that he was privy to that information), or how her lips were still chapped beneath the viscus, sticky layer of product. 

He would have recognized her touch, the feeling of her knuckles pressed firmly to his own chest. From the way her rings dug into his skin, wrinkling his clothes, and the way his heart tried to beat out of his chest to get even closer to her- if his heart could've touched her hands he would have let her hold it.

After all, Bob walked into love with her with his eyes open; it wasn't until he was already in love that he closed his eyes and let the self preserving hate take him over. His heart was Dr. Jekyll, his brain Mr. Hyde, a story told a thousand times before, yet it's still unclear to himself as to which one happened to be evil. That's how it goes right? The inability to see the evil in oneself only to have it be their downfall, their demise? 

Bob would cut the evil out of himself with that old pocket knife, use up the rest of the luck left beneath the still-there chips of paint , and it wouldn't be enough. He would still be back to the same old story, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, this time with more blood and just as much heartache. 

So, Bob lies to himself- he lies that he didn't recognize her because she had changed so much, but in reality, he was the one who had changed. It didn't matter that he did it for her; he still lost sight of what it was all for. He lost sight of her. But, he thinks, if he could have just touched her with his eyes closed, he would have known it was her. His heart would have known with it's relative location to her hands. His heart calls to them like the moon calls to the waves; he only wishes it was strong enough to pull them closer. 

Bob thinks he might be sick, the feeling of pulling G's nothing compared to the punch to the gut the last few minutes had been. The center of his chest aches, source unclear. 

"You better tell me what the hell is going on right this second Floyd, or I am going to kick your ass so hard you won't be able to sit in the jet next week," Phoenix's voice pulls him from his spiral. She slams her fist onto the table beside her. Bob flinches, eyes squeezing shut, tight. He has heard her angry before, scared before, pissed off before, but nothing compared to the way she was striking the fear of God into him now. 

"Duchenne," Bob begins, not quite trusting his voice, "That's her, that's Duchenne... Oh my God,"

Bob feels unsteady, the ground is swaying beneath him. His body flushes hot then cold then back again, sweat slick and hot to the touch. His stomach twists, threatening to take his heart in with it. He manages to lean against the table, a hand on the sticky wooden top. 

Natasha is steadily putting the pieces together, one by one. It was slow work, like winding red string from clue to clue, not being able to see the whole thing from this close. It's all inky fingerprints and unfocused photographs. Her fingertips might as well have been dyed red from all the the theories she has created in her head, only to unwind them herself to construct another. Her brain aches with the pain of papercuts. 

Rooster is still in the dark, the expression on his face giving light to that fact. His emotion is hidden behind the thickness of his mustache and eyebrows, the facial hair hiding the confused displeasure written into his features. He had been too busy keeping Jake from jumping into the middle of the whole thing to pay enough attention to the details, the entire situation like trying to solve a puzzle without the picture on the box, a couple of the crutial pieces lost. 

Hangman on the other hand? He is just far enough away to see the whole picture clearly. The whole mother fucking thing, the outline of the string from clue to clue; from the way Sunny reacted, her knuckles white, voice pained, all the way to the way Bob sways on his feet, green around the gills, eyes bleary with unshed tears. He sees it all perfectly, and it makes him see red. 

"What the fuck did you do to her?" Seresin speaks up this time, his voice levels above that of Natasha's. Bob flounders, going a shade greener. Hangman is not surprised at Bob's lack of explanation, the man has always been quiet and unassuming, but he doesn't have the patience for this, for waiting. 

Bob manages to stammer out a couple of useless sounds, none of which come even close to an answer that Hangman would deem acceptable. Bob's brain is playing catch up, the whole evening on rewind. Hell, everything Phoenix ever told him plays through his head on fast forward, the stories jumbling together in his brain, lacking detail. 

Bob was so sure he was going to like Sunny, that she would be his absolute definition of perfect. And fuck, she was, she is, she has always been. And he fucked it up so many years ago and now it looks like there is no chance of any sort of redemption, not with the way Sunny looked at him. 

Again, he thinks, maybe the blood would be easier. At least wounds on the outside can be tended with gentle touches and medical care. It's the beyond pained expression Sunny wore and the venom in her words that are forever circulating through Bob's bloodstream that can't be treated. There is no cure for heartbreak, not like this. 

"Bob, you will not get a second warning, I will not be asking you again," Hangman begins to move towards Bob, moving step by step, inch by inch, each micromovement a warning to the WSO, speak now or forever wish he had, likely with a mouth full of blood and loose teeth. Bob shudders. 

He might be sick. He swallows bile and mucus that have begun to mingle in the back of his throat. The mixture doesn't go down easy, a lump stuck in his throat. 

"We went to school together," Bob speaks up finally, the words coming out scratchy, maybe a little detatched, "And I- I was horrible to her. The whole time- I-" 

"Robert Floyd, you better be fucking joking. Duchenne?!" Natasha yells, the lightbulb moment finally hitting her. She angles her body towards Bob, now boxing him, right along Hangman's side. "My best friend, Sunny, is your Duchenne? The girl you tormented for years, the girl who you told wasn't worth it, breaking her fucking heart right before graduation?! That Duchenne?" 

"Yes," The word fell from Bob's lips so sheepishly he barely hears himself utter it.  He lets his vision swim with the colors of the Hard Deck patrons again. He wants to shrink away, fade from existence. 

He has never seen his squad so mad, the anger dripping off of them, puddling around his feet. If he's not careful, he might just drown in it, face down on dry land. 

That began the yelling. Somewhere between the lack of eye contact that the barely heard words, Natasha's heart broke all over again for her best friend, just like it had the night Bob confessed everything to her in the safety of his truck cab. 

Hangman has surpassed pissed. To have seen a woman upset at the hands of a man, was one thing that ignited rage within the man, but when it was Bob who had caused such pain, and when the woman just so happened to be Sunny, Hangman could have torched a whole town.

 They were both ripping into Bob, and he just stood there and took everything they gave him. He deserved every piece of it.

Nothing would change his mind from the fact that he fucked up. He could still hear the sound of her strangled cry, the same one that has been playing on repeat since he walked away from her all of those years ago. That would've been bad enough, the strangled cry a broken record in his psyche, but the look of her tear filled eyes is now burned into the forefront of his mind. 

He fucked up, worse this time than he has ever before. Far worse. 

Rooster used the commotion to slip out of the bar and after Sunny. He found her down in the sand, leaning against a life guard tower. She was sobbing, harsh cries wracking through her body as she shook. He didn't know if it was from anger or if her body was just trying to release all of the tension. It didn't matter either way. 

"Hey, Sunshine," Bradley begins, his voice soft "Do you wa-" Before Bradley can finish his sentence, Sunny has thrown herself into his arms, grasping onto the only bit of loose fabric she can find at the small of his back. She tries to speak, the words coming out jagged and hoarse. They aren't anything Bradley can make out. He doesn't bother to try, he knows that listening to her comes later. What she needs, right there in that moment is something to ground her back to reality. She needs to keep from slipping further and further into the atmosphere, her brain running haywire in the clouds. 

Bradley brings his arms up around her shoulders, one hand coming up to the back of her head. He cradles her head against his chest, his fingers moving gently over her scalp. He repeats the same movements he learned from his mother, the comforting touches he would receive after nightmares and when he had episodes of grief over his father. 

He missed his mother in that moment, as he hums out a melody just loud enough to be heard over her ragged breathes. His brain flashes with images of his father, few and far between and a little blurry. The song was his first. Then it was his mother's. Now it's his to share. 

Slowly he sways her back and fourth, the motion small but deliberate. She lets out a deep breath, one that she didn't realize she was holding. The fingertips against her skull seems to bring her crying to a lull, her body no longer shaking. Her hands tremble a bit, still tangled in the top of his uniform. He can feel that it's no longer tucked in the way it should be, and the tears on the front side have turned the once crisp tan fabric into a dark, patchy mess. 

"Let's take a seat, Sunshine, so you can catch your breathe, then, if you want to, you can tell me all about what just happened, okay?" Bradley's voice is so quiet as he whispers into the hair at the top of her head. All Sunny can do is shake her head yes before she untangles herself from around Rooster, attempting to dry her tears with the backs of her hands. He takes her by the elbow, guiding her down to the sand below. 

Bradley leans his body back against the guard tower, legs spread out in front of him with her body sat between them. He pulls her back into his chest, hands running from her shoulders down to her elbows and back up again, yet another thing he learned from his mother. He had sat just this way with her more times than he'd care to admit. She would say that it helped to regulate breathing, but in reality, it was to help keep her from bursting into tears right along with him. 

He keeps his head back against the tower, eyes looking out at the lapping waves. Sunny looks out at them too, slowly finding the courage to tell Bradley everything.  He hums the tune again, the silence filled by the lapping of the waves. Sunny can still hear her heart beating in her ears, blood rushing. Somehow, she knows, that this is exactly how seeing Bobby again should sound- crashing, rushing, and a gentle lullaby. It's everything they have ever been, and maybe everything they will continue to be, even if Bradley has to sub in the tune right now, in this moment, under the amber glow of the full moon. 

Sunny's hands still shake, pins and needles vibrating from within, like they are being called a million miles away from her; or maybe sixty or so yards away, up the staircase and through the crowd of the Hard Deck, right to where Bob Floyd's heart sits beating erratically in his chest.