#this reminded me how much i love them... maybe tonight i go through my fic bookmarks

[symphorine]

i’ll make you feel alive with me, alive with me

T, 5,909 words, Guo Changcheng/Chu Shuzhi, Complete

Canon-Typical Violence, Getting Together, Minor Injuries, Sharing a Bed, Holding Hands, hands are a focus. don't worry about it, set at some ambiguous time during canon

It’s dark; the only light comes from very slim windows at the very top of the walls, and most of them are obscured by dirt and broken tiles. Guo Changcheng can barely make out Chu Shuzhi, just a few feet away from him.

“Ah, hold on!” Guo Changcheng opens his bag and rummages through it, then brings his phone out, turning on the flashlight. “This should help,” he says, looking up.

The basement is empty.

_______________________________________

Guo Changcheng does detective work, gets hurt, and spends some time with Chu Shuzhi.

I wrote this *checks notes* almost two years ago, then got into a writing slump so bad I couldn't even look at it again for editing. Finally got the courage to ask my friends to read it, which made me able to read it also, and dust it off to send it into the world. I'm not actively into Guardian anymore, but my god I do love Guo Changcheng and Chu Shuzhi still. Thank you Raleigh, Robin and K for encouragements.

Enjoy! Remaining typos are my own. Title is from Love me blind by Thick as thieves, which is my go-to chuguo song.

Title is AO3 link, but I also have the fic under the cut.

Guo Changcheng fiddles with the strap of his bag while reading his notes. Most of the witness statements are confusing and hard to make sense of, as much as he’s tried. Their culprit is described as both tall and short, an old woman and a teenager, fat and stick-thin, and that’s only when the witnesses actually saw a person. If all the incidents hadn’t happened close to each other, the SID would probably not have been involved, and this would have gone under their radar. He blinks furiously and rereads the page from the top, frowning like it’ll help him make out the characters better. He has to find something, he has to, or Chu-ge…

“Changcheng.”

Guo Changcheng jumps around, eyes wide. “Chu-ge! But I thought- Are you okay? Are you recovered?”

Chu Shuzhi huffs. “Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. The chief sent me to see if you needed help.”

Guo Changcheng relaxes. “I’m glad you feel better. It was… it was scary.” He swallows and turns back to his notebook, flipping back a few pages. “Several of the people we’ve talked to reported things happening around the same building. That’s all I have so far,” he adds, looking down.

“Sounds like enough to me,” Chu Shuzhi says with a half smile. “Let’s go.”

It’s a short enough walk to the building; an old schoolhouse, abandoned for a few years now. Guo Changcheng had looked it up: the roof and walls had been falling apart, sometimes on the students, and the city had organized a hasty transfer and shut it down when the teachers’ room had flooded. It is now a decrepit, empty building, covered with climbing vines and ivy, waiting for the day it will finally be torn down and repurposed. Guo clutches at his bag and steels himself before opening the gate to the courtyard, and hears Chu Shuzhi chuckle behind him.

“Afraid of ghosts?” Chu Shuzhi asks, walking past him.

“No!” Guo Changcheng replies, definitely too fast. He has reasons to be, okay? With their job, meeting ghosts is definitely in the realm of possibilities; and he’s been uneasy since Chu-ge got taken down by their criminal of the week. Sure, he seems okay now, but…

Guo Changcheng frowns, something nagging at the back of his mind, but Chu Shuzhi is already at the door of the building, looking back at him impatiently, and so he rushes forward instead.

The interior looks mostly like Guo Changcheng had expected: dusty, with lots of debris and bits of plaster littering the floor, and some hardy plants growing from the cracks in between the tiles of the hallway.

“Stay behind me,” says Chu Shuzhi, glancing at him before going down the corridor. He opens the door to the old classrooms as silently as possible (not very), and Guo Changcheng stands at the ready behind him, peering over his shoulder with his electric baton ready. He tenses at every door, but they reach the last one without anything happening.

“Maybe this place has nothing to do with the attacks,” Guo Changcheng says, lowering his weapon and stepping back.

Chu Shuzhi turns back towards him. “We should check the whole thing anyway.”

“The whole thing?”

“There’s a basement.” Chu Shuzhi nods towards a sign right next to Guo Changcheng’s head. When he turns around, he sees the faded and scratched characters white characters on the sickly green sign, and the double doors next to it.

“Oh.” Guo Changcheng sighs a little. “Okay.”

Without waiting for his mind to tell him it’s a terrible idea, he pushes the doors open and walks in, almost falling down the steep stairs.

“Be careful!” Chu Shuzhi snaps, glancing at him to make sure he’s unharmed before going down the stairs himself.

And this - makes Guo Changcheng pause. Chu-ge… Chu Shuzhi - this Chu Shuzhi - hasn’t touched him once since meeting him earlier. And Guo Changcheng feels a little guilty for noticing, his ears growing warm, but he’s used to (enjoys probably a bit more than he should) Chu-ge’s many casual touches; rough, often, yanking him back from danger or pushing him out of the way. Gentle, other times, a warm hand over Guo Changcheng’s neck, a comforting one on his shoulder.

He hadn’t even tried to hold him back from falling down. And the witness accounts...

“You coming or not?” Chu Shuzhi calls, scowling at him.

“Yes!” Guo Changcheng steps inside, the doors closing behind him with a soft whoosh. “Sorry, Chu-ge.”

It’s dark; the only light comes from very slim windows at the very top of the walls, and most of them are obscured by dirt and broken tiles. Guo Changcheng can barely make out Chu Shuzhi, just a few feet away from him.

“Ah, hold on!” Guo Changcheng opens his bag and rummages through it, then brings his phone out, turning on the flashlight. “This should help,” he says, looking up.

The basement is empty.

Someone grabs him from behind violently, sending his phone and his baton both tumbling to the ground way too far for Guo Changcheng to reach them, and pulls his arms tightly behind him.

“Now,” says Chu Shuzhi’s voice, cold and angry and unlike anything he’s sounded like in a long while, “you’re going to be a good little hostage and tell me about the SID.”

Guo Changcheng swallows. “Chu-ge?” he asks, more for show than anything else. He tries to wriggle out of his attacker’s grasp, but they only tighten their hands - Chu Shuzhi’s hands and yet not - to the point of hurting enough to make him gasp.

“I’m not your Chu-ge. Fuck that man,” they say, wearing his face, and it makes anger spark in Changcheng’s chest. “Now tell me. Who else knows about me?”

“All of us,” Guo Changcheng says, before whimpering. “You won’t get away.”

“Dammit,” they murmur. “I guess we’re in for the long haul, then.”

They let go of one of Guo Changcheng’s arm, their hand coming up to his throat, but he’s ready. With a pained cry, he throws himself backwards and elbows them, flailing his limbs with as much energy as he can. The fake Chu Shuzhi’s grip loosens for a split second in surprise, and Guo Changcheng lunges forward, slipping out of their reach and throwing himself at his baton but falling just a bit short

“You little rat!” they hiss, and they’re on him before he has even managed to scramble up. “I’ll teach you!”

They pull their fist back, and Guo Changcheng can only hold his arms in front of him, thinking back to Chu-ge injuries, the way his jaw had looked like it had been split apart, his legs swollen and bleeding with open fractures, and he thinks, I’m going to die.

When the fist connects with his arm, Guo Changcheng screams. It feels like his bones are splintering, the pain reaching his shoulder, his heart, his neck, unbearable in its intensity. The fake Chu Shuzhi grins and prepares for another punch while Guo Changcheng reaches back, hoping for anything, anything he can use- 

His fingers close on his electric baton and he brandishes it, terrified, sending all the strength of his fear in violent electric currents point blank in his attacker’s face with so much force that Guo Changcheng drops it.

The light from the electricity blinds him, and for a moment after it subsides, he thinks he missed - he wasted his shot, and he going to in horrible pain and-

But there are no other noises than his laboured breath, and he slowly, slowly sits up, trying very carefully not to let his left arm brush against anything (he fails, and it hurts a lot). He blinks a few times, listening for any sign that the fake Chu Shuzhi is still up and moving, about to hit him again, but it’s only when his own breathing calms down that he can hear the other, faint and shallow.

“Oh,” Guo Changcheng says, and then repeats when he feels his whole chest hurt as he speaks. His arm is throbbing and the pain makes him nauseous, but he makes himself sit up and look around, and finds his phone. The screen is cracked, but still functional, and he turns the flashlight on again, shining it before him.

The body of Chu Shuzhi is lying prone, eyes closed, chest rising and falling. There’s a huge burn on his face going down and under his shirt, and Guo Changcheng almost panics again before he remembers it isn’t Chu-ge. He still feels a little bad - he never means to hurt people permanently, or at all if he can help it - but the pain and the adrenaline overwhelm him, and he lies down on the mercifully cold floor, dialling the office’s number before passing out.

  Professor Shen sits back and puts Guo Changcheng’s arm down, the pain finally reduced to a mere ache.

“Thank you,” Guo Changcheng says.

“It’s not entirely healed. You will need a splint, and painkillers.” Professor Shen looks down, apologetic. “That’s all I can do for now.”

“It’s more than enough,” Guo Changcheng reassures him. “Thank you so much.”

Chief Zhao interrupts before professor Shen can reply. “If I let you two go on, we’ll be at it until tomorrow,” he sighs. “Someone should be here in a couple minutes to patch you up the normal way. You did good work,” he adds, his voice serious. “How did you realize it wasn’t Lao Chu? Far as I could tell, the replica was perfect. Did he say something wrong?”

“No,” Guo Changcheng says before he can think of lying. “He, uhm. I, uh, just thought it was strange that he had recovered already,” he mumbles - he tries not to think of the intense relief he had felt, or the lack of suspicion.

“Hm. Yeah, I guess even if Shen Wei had helped out, it was fast,” Chief Zhao said pensively. “Well, either way, that probably saved your life.”

Guo Changcheng shudders. “Yes,” he says. “I’ll write it all in my report.”

“You do that.” Chief Zhao goes to pat his shoulder, but remembers Changcheng’s injuries at the last moment, and settles for an awkward thumbs up before taking his hand back.

“Guo Changcheng?” A nurse calls, standing in the door.

Professor Shen rises and Chief Zhao grins. “Ah, that’s our cue. Now, be good and don’t go fighting perps on your own again,” he says, wagging his finger at Guo Changcheng.

“I won’t,” Guo Changcheng promises.

They leave and the nurse comes over, inspecting his arm with a puzzled frown, but she only makes idle chat while applying the splint and giving him painkillers.

“This is a peculiar injury,” she says when she’s done, “so I don’t know how long exactly it will take to heal. I’d advise you to keep the splint on for at least a week, and then come back here for another look. Take painkillers whenever needed, we’ll give you a prescription.” She stands up and gathers her tools, but stops before turning around. “Oh, I almost forgot! Your friends told me to tell you your other friend is in room M202.” She looks at him with raised eyebrows, and smiles when he nods. “You should find him awake.”

“Thank you,” Guo Changcheng says again.

He hops off the examination table and goes through the door that she’s kindly holding up for him. He pauses outside, not sure where the room is, and she points left with an amused smile.

Guo Changcheng thanks her once more and watches her go in the opposite direction, waving awkwardly with his right arm - he’d gotten mostly nasty bruises on it, and it hurts still, but not nearly as much as the left one had.

Room M202 is a little further, in a less busy part of the hospital. Guo Changcheng hesitates when he finds himself in front of it. Should he knock? What if Chu-ge is resting? He probably needs it a lot. What if he’s too tired and Changcheng is just making things worse?

Before he can take a step back, though, he thinks again of the fake Chu Shuzhi - restraining him, hitting him, lying on the ground with a burn scar across his face. Guo Changcheng doesn’t know if it stayed when the Dixingren had switched back to his own appearance. He isn’t sure he wants to know. But he wants- he wants to see the real Chu Shuzhi, without the scar and with the kinder hands.

Guo Changcheng pushes the door to find Chu Shuzhi sitting up, already looking at him, with a half smile Guo Changcheng had seen just earlier today.

“Thought you’d never come in.”

“Sorry.” Guo Changcheng closes the door behind him and walks closer. There’s a chair next to the bedside, and he sits gingerly in it. He’s still quite sore from the fight.

“Dumbass,” Chu Shuzhi says. “Stop apologizing for nothing.”

He reaches out, his hand warm and familiar on Guo Changcheng’s neck, and he melts into the touch, just a little.

“Yes, Chu-ge,” he replies with a smile. “How are you doing?”

“I should ask you that.” Chu Shuzhi’s smile falls away, but his hand stays where it is, tightening in a way that would be imperceptible if Guo Changcheng wasn’t so aware of Chu Shuzhi’s touches - today especially.

“I’m fine, Chu-ge,” Guo Changcheng lies, because he isn’t above it. “Barely a scratch left.” He holds up his left arm with a wince. “Well, a bit more, but it’s a lot better now that professor Shen helped.”

This does not satisfy Chu Shuzhi. He takes his hand back and his face tightens. He stares at Guo Changcheng for a moment that seems to stretch forever, then looks down. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been here to protect you.”

Guo Changcheng smiles softly. “Now who is apologizing for nothing?”

“I’m not-” Chu Shuzhi grinds his teeth and glares at his hand, resting upon the light hospital blanket, tightened in a fist.

“I was able to take him down thanks to what you taught me, Chu-ge,” Guo Changcheng says. His voice is low, like his throat is too tight to let all of it come through. “And you- you were injured so badly, I couldn’t-”

“But he had my face,” Chu Shuzhi spoke to his hand still. “If I hadn’t been so useless, it wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t even have had to go there and…”

He trails off, and Guo Changcheng looks at Chu Shuzhi’s hand too. “You weren’t useless. He’s powerful. It’s a miracle you’re still alive,” he adds in a whisper.

Chu Shuzhi snorts. “Just good old Dixingren tricks. We’re lucky to have the Black Cloak Envoy.”

“We are,” Guo Changcheng murmurs.

Quiet falls between them again, punctuated by both of their breaths; regular, strong, Guo Changcheng thinks as he watches Chu Shuzhi’s chest rise and fall. They’re both alive, and a little worse for wear, and the silence becomes awkward in a way Guo Changcheng is surprisingly not used to.

Because there seems to be nothing else to do, and because he’s been wanting to since he came in, Guo Changcheng reaches out and grasps Chu Shuzhi’s hand with his, his long fingers folding around Chu-ge’s calloused ones.

Chu Shuzhi looks up sharply, but the corners of his eyes are soft and his mouth is half open, and Guo Changcheng's heart does strange things upon seeing Chu-ge look so unguarded.

"He had my face," Chu Shuzhi says again. "Changcheng, are you…"

He doesn't finish, but Guo Changcheng thinks he knows. Are you afraid? Do you trust me still? 

He shakes his head and holds Chu-ge's hand more firmly. "I'm fine," Guo Changcheng says, and this time it is the truth. "I'm okay. We're fine."

Chu Shuzhi does not reply, but he turns his hand over and slots his fingers between Changcheng's, his grip warm and comfortingly strong, and they stay like that for a while.

  "Um. What?" Guo Changcheng blinks, not sure that he heard right.

"You heard me right!" Chief Zhao says, shattering his hopes. "You've got functioning legs, Lao Chu has working arms, between the both of you, I'm sure you'll figure things out."

"But um. Uh." Guo Changcheng looks down at his arms - free of the splint, but still sore and fragile. "That doesn't seem very… Wouldn't it be better if someone else helped Chu-ge? Someone who, um, isn't injured at all?"

Chief Zhao waves his objection off with a nonchalant gesture. "And who do you think Lao Chu would tolerate in his home? You're literally the only person who's been there other than Shen Wei."

"Oh," Guo Changcheng says faintly. "That's… that's a good point, I suppose."

"You suppose?" Chief Zhao tuts disapprovingly and starts unwrapping a lollipop. "Youth these days, no respect for authority. Well, go now! You've got your assignment!"

Which is how Guo Changcheng finds himself helping Chu Shuzhi up the stairs to his apartment. He only lives on the first floor, thankfully, but he is very clearly unhappy about the crutches. He leans back when they get to his door and Changcheng slides the key in, then Chu Shuzhi hobbles in with a low but steady stream of curses.

Chu-ge is usually so dextrous, Changcheng reflects as he closes the door behind them. It’s strange to see him struggle so much with the crutches - although it is also quite funny to see how much he loathes the things. As soon as he's taken off his shoes and made his way to the couch, Chu Shuzhi tosses away the offending objects. His puppet flies out of sight, probably to check everything is where it should be.

"Would you like some tea, Chu-ge?"

"Sure." Chu Shuzhi looks at him and nods towards the kitchen. “You know where it is.”

Guo Changcheng busies himself with putting the kettle on and gently pouring the loose leaves in a strainer. He’d bought the tea for Chu-ge, as a very unofficial and entirely deniable birthday present, and it makes him smile to see more than half of it is gone.

He brings empty cups into the living room, and then the pot of tea, cradled between both his hands, careful not to drop it. He pours the tea and hands the first cup to Chu-ge, who takes it with a mumbled thanks. Guo Changcheng watches him bring the steaming cup to his mouth, inhale the floral scent of the tea with obvious pleasure, and busies himself with pouring his own cup to hide his smile.

They sit like this for a while, in companionable silence. Guo Changcheng is grateful for it; his aunt has been fussing over him ever since the - incident, and his uncle hovers around him whenever he lifts a single finger. It’s touching, but tiring.

He lets his eyes wander over the room. He’s been here before, but little has changed: the walls are still bare (except for a row of coat hangers that predates Chu Shuzhi’s tenancy), as is the scuffed wooden floor, but the mismatched furniture is clean and neat. The couch is getting older, but is covered by a nice comforter, and he hears the soft clicks of the clock that he knows hangs in the kitchen (also there independently of Chu Shuzhi; Changcheng had found it at the back of a cupboard and insisted on getting batteries for it).

“Changcheng,” Chu Shuzhi starts, breaking the peaceful quiet.

“Chu-ge?” Guo Changcheng looks at him, and is surprised to see a complicated expression on Chu Shuzhi’s face. 

He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, and eventually says, “Nevermind.”

“What’s wrong?”

Chu Shuzhi huffs. “I said nevermind.” He turns around and uses his strings to grab the crutches, and hauls himself up on them.

“What are you doing?” Guo Changcheng asks, puzzled.

“Getting stuff out for dinner,” Chu Shuzhi grumbles as he hobbles into the kitchen.

Guo Changcheng puts his cup down so fast the last of the tea almost sloshes out. “I’ll help!”

“Sit down! Aren’t you supposed to rest your arms, dumbass?”

“You shouldn’t be standing around so much either!” Guo Changcheng replies, definitely not whining, as he follows Chu Shuzhi in the kitchen anyway. “I’m supposed to take care of you! Chief’s orders!”

“Yeah?” Chu Shuzhi grunts, dropping one of his crutches to reach for the fridge. “Well, I’m supposed to take care of you. Go sit.”

Guo Changcheng shakes his head. “I can help as long as it’s not too heavy.”

Chu Shuzhi inhales sharply and spins around. “Listen-” he starts, clearly worked up, holding a box of leftovers in one hand and pointing the other at Guo Changcheng.

He starts taking a step forward, and Guo Changcheng meets Chu Shuzhi’s eyes at the exact moment they both realize he’s going to fall.

Guo Changcheng lunges forward, arms outstretched and ready to catch Chu-ge, but they crumble under the weight and force of Chu Shuzhi’s fall, and they both fall to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs and pained exclamations, very soon aching too much to even try to sit up, and stay there in dead silence as the container of leftovers spins on itself for a very, very long moment before landing (thankfully) upright.

They stay silent some more, until Guo Changcheng looks up and catches Chu Shuzhi’s dismayed expression, and can’t help but start laughing. It hurts his body - he’s definitely gained some new bruises - but he can’t stop, and eventually, Chu Shuzhi relaxes and lets his hand fall back down with a soft thud and a smile.

“Are you hurt?” he asks when Guo Changcheng eventually manages to calm down.

Guo Changcheng shakes his head. “I think I’m okay.” He starts carefully (and a little regretfully, but nobody else has to know) detangling himself from Chu-ge. “Are you?”

“I’m fine.” Chu Shuzhi leans up on his elbows, and doesn’t push Guo Changcheng away when he helps him sit up and hands him his crutches.

“I think we’d better order food, Chu-ge.”

Chu Shuzhi hums, amused. “Probably.”

They make their way back to the couch together, and Guo Changcheng pours them more tea before curling up on his side of it, while Chu-ge orders for them.

 “Thanks," Chu-ge says when he's done, but he doesn't grab the cup. Instead, he puts his phone down and turns towards Guo Changcheng, face carefully blank.

"Are you really fine?"

"Yeah! It hurts a little," Guo Changcheng admits sheepishly, "but-"

"That's not- It's good that you're healing, but I meant more…" Chu Shuzhi makes a face. "Mentally."

Guo Changcheng's mouth hangs open for several seconds before he remembers to close it. He struggles, unsure what to reply, his thoughts swirling in a confused maelstrom.

"I- I think so? I mean, yes," he says, more firmly than he truly feels.

Chu Shuzhi looks dubious for a moment. "You've been jumpier than usual. And you…" He pauses, frowning. "You look afraid whenever I touch you."

Something very cold bursts in Guo Changcheng’s belly, spreading to his chest and back and making it hard to breathe. He’s been a lot more reactive to Chu-ge’s touches, it’s true. Each one means that the Chu Shuzhi with him is the real one; they also remind him, sometimes, of the impostor, of his strength and the pain he’d inflicted, both on him and Chu-ge, of the moment of sheer terror he’d experienced when Chu Shuzhi had been dragged into the SID office by a wide-eyed Chief Zhao, bloodied and broken and unconscious.

Guo Changcheng does not consider himself vindictive, but when he’d seen the Dixing man who’d attacked him, his own face on, the large scar inflicted by Guo Changcheng still there, he had felt no regret.

He swallows. “I’m not afraid of you, Chu-ge. I promise. I just- it’s hard to not think about, at least some of the time. I was so scared...” He trails off, words stuck just behind his tongue.

Chu Shuzhi’s shoulders are still tense, but he nods after a minute. “It won’t happen again.”

It’s Guo Changcheng’s turn to nod, the cold feeling in his chest slowly seeping out of him. He doesn’t trust himself to talk, but he stretches his legs a little, wiggling his toes under Chu Shuzhi’s thigh, and settles like that.

The rest of the evening passes in between idle chatter and familiar silence, and appreciative slurping noises when their food arrives. It’s warm inside, and the couch is comfortable, and Guo Changcheng eventually finds that his eyes are closing of their own accord while he scrolls through his phone, looking for interesting tidbits to relay to Chu-ge.

Chu-ge snorts when Changcheng is interrupted by his own yawn for the fourth time in a row. “I think you should go to bed.”

Changcheng rubs his eyes and shakes his head. “I don’t want to chase you from the couch if you don’t want to sleep.”

“The couch?”

Changcheng hums, a little surprised by the question. “Yes! Where I’ll sleep?”

Chu Shuzhi frowns. “You’re not sleeping on this. It’s shit.”

“But then-” Changcheng meets Chu-ge's eyes, and he tilts his head back towards the bedroom. “Oh.”

“What?”

“It’s fine,” Changcheng rushes to say. “It’s fine? If it’s okay with you.”

“I wouldn’t say this if it wasn’t.” Chu-ge nudges him. “Just go lie down, you look like you’re about to fall over.”

Changcheng blushes, but he can’t deny he’s exhausted. “Okay. Good night, Chu-ge.”

He stops in the bathroom first; he does his best to clean his teeth without a toothbrush, and splashes some water on his face, wiping it with his sleeve.

He’s stayed overnight before, during some truly difficult cases, but he’s never slept in Chu-ge’s apartment. When Changcheng turns the bedroom light on, he notes that the bed looks very inviting, and not just because he’s desperate to fall asleep. The bedroom looks nicer than the rest of the place; there’s a smaller bed to the side for Chu-ge’s puppet, a pair of black pants hanging out their drawer, and a book resting upside down on the bedside table. It’s not like the walls look less ancient or the floor in better condition - it just looks more like Chu-ge spends time there.

Changcheng hesitates for a second, then takes off his pants and his sweater and folds them neatly before placing them on top of Chu-ge's drawers. It's not quite cold without his clothes on, but he still hurries under the covers. He has to wriggle for a while to find a position that doesn't hurt, but he manages to take up only a third of the bed. It seems fair, Changcheng thinks: Chu-ge is basically twice as large as he is.

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, counting out how long he inhales and exhales to calm down. He is exhausted; part of the reason is that he hasn’t been able to sleep very well. He knows, theoretically, that the danger has passed, but it’s harder to believe it when he’s alone in the middle of the night.

He listens to the distant sound of Chu-ge shuffling around the flat, throwing away the empty containers from their meal, then going back to the couch, calling out to his puppet, giving a displeased grunt - maybe at the crutches, Changcheng thinks with a smile. Before he knows it, he slips into unconsciousness.

He blinks awake some time later. He has no idea where he is or what woke him up, at first, until he feels the bed dip next to him and sees Chu-ge's face, lit by the soft glow of the streetlights standing outside, a few floors below.

"Go back to sleep," Chu Shuzhi murmurs, tugging the blanket so it covers them both.

"Mhm." Changcheng looks up blearily, letting his eyes linger on Chu-ge's face. He traces his jawline, up to his ears, his cheekbones, his handsome nose and his eyes. Oh, his eyes, Changcheng thinks, lost halfway between sleep and consciousness. He really likes them. They're so expressive, and beautiful, and they're watching him, intense in the grey light.

"You have really nice eyes, Chu-ge," Changcheng mumbles, reaching out to touch his face before he gives up, betrayed by the gravity of his own limbs.

Chu Shuzhi doesn't say anything. He keeps watching Changcheng for what feels like a long while, and he breathes a little hard, just loud enough for Changcheng to pick up on it. He frowns and tries to reach out again, but Chu Shuzhi catches his hand first. "Go back to sleep," he repeats, weaker than before.

Changcheng stays silent while Chu Shuzhi arranges himself, without letting go of Changcheng's hand. He stays silent after, too, caught up in the softness of this secret moment, an intimacy that came more easily than he'd ever thought. He feels Chu-ge's hand in his, dry and warm, and he squeezes a little. Chu Shuzhi squeezes back - an acknowledgement or a question, Changcheng doesn't know. His chest feels heavy, his belly and his spine warm with a feeling he cannot name.

"I'm really happy you're alive," he says, the words lifted out of him by a sigh.

Chu Shuzhi turns around to look at him, familiar frown softened by the dim light. "Where did that come from?"

"When Chief Zhao brought you in," Changcheng replies, "I was so scared. I was so scared you were going to die." His voice trembles and he clutches Chu-ge's hand harder. "I'm really glad you didn't."

Chu Shuzhi's eyes widen and his mouth opens a little, and it makes him look almost defenseless, here in his bed, holding Guo Changcheng's hand. He swallows once, twice, Changcheng following the line of his throat before coming back to his face.

"When." Chu Shuzhi swallows again. "When Zhu Hong told me you'd faced that guy alone, I was… angry." He grits his teeth. "And I thought she was going to tell me he'd killed you." He rolls on his side, a little closer to Changcheng. "I'm proud of you. And I'm really glad you're alive, too." His voice breaks on the last word.

Changcheng rolls on his side too, wincing at the pain in his shoulder, and brings his other hand over Chu-ge's, holding it firmly as he feels his chest constrict around his heart, like it's about to be squeezed out of him by the strength of his emotions. "I was so scared," he repeats, staring at Chu Shuzhi, letting his words be ripped from his core. "I don't want to lose you. I can't-"

He stops himself right before crying. His eyes are stinging and his vision is a little blurry, but he can still feel Chu-ge, smell him on his pillow, feel his warmth under the blanket, and it's enough to push the tears back a little.

Chu Shuzhi scoots forward, a little awkwardly, and stops only when he's close enough that Changcheng can feel his breath. Their tangled hands are trapped between them, warm and safe. Changcheng sniffs and blinks away the tears, and Chu Shuzhi… Chu Shuzhi looks undone. His eyes are roaming around Changcheng's face, looking for something, and when he raises his free hand, it's shaking. He brushes Changcheng's hair back, his thumb brushing the corner of Changcheng's eye, before his hand finds its place at the nape of Changcheng's neck.

It feels heavy, like good pressure, the kind you get from a weighted blanket or a dog cuddling you, from hot water in the shower after a long day. Chu Shuzhi's eyes finally settle.

"You won't," he says in a rough voice. "I swear."

Changcheng feels him promise and knows it's true. He nods, and lets his head yield under Chu-ge's hand, bringing their foreheads together, their noses almost touching. Chu Shuzhi starts sweeping his thumb back and forth across the side of Changcheng's neck, gentle, almost like petting, and this is how Changcheng falls asleep a second time.

  Changcheng wakes up slowly. The morning light is still weak, but he feels rested in a way he hasn't in a long time. He's alone in the bed, the memories of the night fuzzy but solid.

He gets up and puts on his clothes from yesterday, then makes the bed, appreciating the soft sound of fabric sliding against fabric.

When he emerges from the bedroom, Chu Shuzhi is sitting on the couch again, and his puppet is standing on the coffee table, facing him. Chu Shuzhi's head is bent down, towards the puppet, like they're having a conversation, but he looks up when he hears Changcheng's footsteps. He looks tired, Changcheng thinks to himself with a tinge of worry.

"Good morning," Chu Shuzhi says, sitting back up.

“Good morning! How did you sleep?” Changcheng steps forward, putting his hands on the back of the couch. “Did I keep you up?” he asks, biting his lips.

Chu Shuzhi narrows his eyes at him a little. “Not… you, exactly. Sit down,” he adds, patting the space next to him once.

Changcheng does, and notices as he goes around the couch that Chu-ge’s puppet flies out the window and away, leaving them alone. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, everything is fine,” Chu Shuzhi says. “But we need to talk.”

"Oh." Changcheng's mouth feels very dry suddenly, and his heart falls down to his stomach. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" Chu Shuzhi lifts his hand, as if to reach out, but ends up twisting it into the comforter. "You didn't."

When, after a minute, nothing else is forthcoming, Changcheng scoots a little closer. "What do you want to talk about?" he asks, voice soft.

Chu Shuzhi grits his teeth. "What you said last night." Changcheng feels his ears get warm, remembering how open he'd been. "Did you mean it?"

I don't want to lose you. "I did." Changcheng's heart is beating strong in his belly now, giving him courage. "I still do. And I… I've been feeling that way for a while, now," he confesses. He can hear nothing, now, other than Chu-ge's breath, can see nothing but him, the rest of the apartment seemingly falling away in a blur.

Despite this, Changcheng jumps when Chu-ge brings his hand to his neck, stroking the same way he had last night. The way he looks at him, though - tender and afraid and determined, is nothing like the previous night.

"Me, too," Chu Shuzhi admits in a whisper. "But I want to be clear about this."

He leans forward, slowly, so slowly, until their noses are touching, and Changcheng almost has to go crosseyed to hold Chu-ge's gaze. He doesn't lean back; he lifts his hand to cover Chu-ge's wrist, keeping his palm on him, without breaking eye contact.

And finally, finally, finally, Chu Shuzhi kisses him. It makes Changcheng combust and anchors him to the points where they are touching, and it's short and imperfect because he cannot help but grin into it, overflowing.

When Chu Shuzhi leans back, a hint of uncertainty still lingering on his face amidst the wonder, Changcheng mirrors him, placing his own hand on Chu-ge's neck and rubbing gently at the junction between his throat and his jaw.

"You want this?" Chu Shuzhi speaks with his whole chest despite his words not being very loud, and Changcheng feels the question make its way up his throat.

"I do. I really, really do, Chu-ge."

When Chu Shuzhi kisses him again, Changcheng laughs. He has never been this happy.

[kisses4reid]

date night | ·˚ ༘ aaron hotchner ,,

summary - you’re late for date night after your own kindness distracts you, but aaron doesn’t care as long as you’re with him.

genre - fem!reader x aaron, reader has a job not at the bau (you can decide), fluffy fluff, date night, selfless reader, angst if you squint really close??

warnings - light swearing, r being rained on, blabbering and near crying, haley doesn’t exist neither does jack

w/c - it’s short. trust me.

a/n - pov: pia asks for requests, starts writing those requests, and instead uploads an original fic. enjoy!!! (this is from a year ago so beware the writing. i just need to upload something before the engagement goes down 😭)

It got dark quicker this evening. A storm was approaching, you could tell by the drizzle outside of your office window. Your colleagues were already packed up, waiting for you, and you shot them a small smile and scurried to pull on your jacket.

In the elevator there was a rumble, a girl you had begun to get close with gripped your arm obviously scared and you looked at her concerned. Her eyes batted at you and all you could do was squeeze her arm in reassurance - you weren’t going to point out her fear in an elevator of office men. She looked great, a nice dress shirt, hair done nicely. You recalled her giddy whispers from that morning, I have a date tonight!

The excitement felt weirdly familiar, you couldn’t put your finger on it.

And although the restaurant she was going to was close by, you still worried about the rain.

See, you often opted for the outdoor afternoon stroll, but now the dark clouds had rolled over and it felt more like walking home at night with no moon as your guide.

You waved your friend goodbye and stepped out from the covers of your office building, into the rainy street with a thin pink umbrella overhead. Your small heels clicked against the roads, your jacket barely saving you from the chill, and you set off to your fiancé’s apartment. Your apartment now, you reminded yourself.

The trees lining the avenues and backroads swayed in the rain that was starting to pound harder, and the puddles you avoided started to get, well, unavoidable. You had always loved rain. Spending the weekend snuggled against the large window of your apartments living room with a good book and a warm drink was one of your favourite things to do, but right now you slightly cursed the storm and wondered why you didn’t check the weather app this morning like you always do.

Your sole focus was seeing your fiancé, and yet when your attention catches on a struggling older lady, you can’t help but step through mud to help.

“Shit.” A shorter lady, maybe in her late 50’s, was pull a wagon of flowers and plants along the sidewalk, and each step she took, the back left wheel would spin uncontrollably or not spin at all.

You scurried over and approached the woman, talking from across the wagon, “Can I help you with this?”

The woman’s face crinkled with relief and she nodded furiously causing you to smile back.

Helping people was your way of paying back the world for how well it treated you (most of the time). Your parents were constantly helping others and you had no choice but to follow suit. And at times your friends had to tell you to calm it down, saying you were being selfless and sometimes even a pushover.

That didn’t stop you.

“Thank you so much! My legs are getting too old for this.” You pulled the wagon up by its back legs and moved with the woman to pull it under cover, closer to what you assumed to be her flower shop. She locked up the store promptly and thanked you again but you stopped her.

She was dressed in a lovely floral dress, a thick cotton apron and small ballet flats and you just couldn’t stand to see that outfit go to waste. You held out the handle of the pink umbrella, rain immediately dampening your hair.

The lady held a wrinkled hand to her heart and placed a red-lipsticked kiss on your cheek. Your heart sank slightly, realising you would not be coming home in the state you wanted to. It wasn’t like Aaron would care, it was your own worries about ruining the apartment’s carpet and probably the elevator too.

You started down the street, not attempting to avoid puddles or mud anymore, just attempting to hide under bus stop covers when you could. The rain was truly heavy now, but luckily you were only a block away from your apartment.

“Hi Aaron Hotchner.”

“Hi Y/n Hotchner.” His hair was combed nicely and he was still in his work suit, he looked stoic and so manly - you placed a chaste kiss on his lips. His large hands took your jacket off and a cheeky smile slipped on his face. “Why are you drenched?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He definitely remembered you taking your umbrella before you left for work.

“Oh I,” you sighed, knowing you would get a small scold for your actions, “I walked in the rain.”

Aaron sighed, knowing you were lying for your and his own good. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You pouted, “I didn’t know if you’d be home.” You moved yourself further down the hall, Aaron trying but failing to keep you back. He clenched his fists as you stopped at the end of the hall in shock, you were supposed to close your eyes.

You held a hand over your mouth and let your eyes wander the room. Your dining table was decorating with candles and petals, there was an amazing smell coming from the kitchen and suddenly you felt the whole world crash onto you. How could you forget about date night?

“Oh my god, Aaron. Aaron, I am so sorry I completely forgot, oh my god.”

Aaron moved in front if you, a small smile adorning his handsome face, “Hey it’s okay, I understand it was raining and your umbrella magically disappeared. I only got here 10 minutes ago, I wasn’t waiting or anything.”

“Aaron I ruined it I mean- Look at me!” You looked down and extended your arms to motion at your whole being. Drenched dress, stuck hair, a shivering disaster.

“What do you mean-“

“My makeup is trashed, and- and my hair. There’s leaves in my hair! I’m wet and now your suit’s wet and- oh Aaron I’m so sorry, I don’t look like a good date at all.” Shoulders slumped, eyes tearing up, you looked down at your feet and felt your heart attacking your ribs.

“You don’t have to be sorry honey. I should be the one sorry, I didn’t think to come find you so you wouldn’t have to walk home in the rain.” He placed two fingers under your chin to lift your gaze back to his, and moved his other hand to pluck out a leaf from your hair.

“I ruined our date.”

“No you didn’t.” Aaron talked smoothly and low, as if you coming home looking like you’d been to hell and back wasn’t concerning him at all.

“Aaron I look horrible.”

“You look…”

“Awful? Hideous? Like Poseidon put me on a hit list?” You brought a hand up to wipe your eyes of slightly smudged mascara before Aaron’s larger hand caught it.

“You look beautiful. You look gorgeous, like always.” His eyes stared deep into yours, his hand squeezing around yours.

“… Thank you.” You sniffled, “You should just break up with me now.”

“Eh, that engagement ring was too much to let you go that fast.” He twisted your hand slightly to smile at the dazzling ring on your left hand. His hand moved from your face down to your waist and leaned in to place a loving kiss on your trembling lips before he caught a glance of something and paused. “How’d you get that red mark on your cheek?”

“Oh- I helped a lady out with her flower cart because it was stuck in the rain. And then I gave her my umbrella, and she kissed me on the cheek.”

He pulled back, sighing, “Y/n…”

“Her dress was very pretty, and I could tell her hair was freshly permed, okay. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.” You crossed your arms over your chest and smiled cheekily.

“You’re unbelievable.” He couldn’t help but smile, he knew his girl was unforgivably selfless. Aaron took your hand and lead you to your bedroom so you could change for your date.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

He leant against the doorframe, “I meant it as a good thing. Let’s eat, and then we can shower, and you can tell me about your day was.”

You opened your closet and sighed, “I’m really sor-“

“Don’t say sorry. You can apologies but wearing something nice and complimenting my subpar cooking.” He shot you a charming smile that warmed your heart and exited to set up the food, all you could think of is how lucky you were to have him.

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover

[sarahscribbles]

thirsty thursday idea! since you've done a marking kink drabble, maybe a bruising kink drabble? I've never seen a fic about it. I'm thinking that the reader is really turned on by Loki bruising her with his grip/ roughness. him grabbing her hips while she's riding him so hard it bruises. bruises the next day on her arms/wrists from where he held her. bruises on her thighs from loki holding her down while he eats her out. okay I'm done now, hopefully this inspires you😂

Oh, Lord, I hope this suffices as a bruising kink! I did my best!

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟖𝟓𝟎

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The very first time Loki had left a mark on your skin, you had thought the guilt would consume him.

Tiny splotches of purple and red had quickly blossomed beneath your skin - the aftermath of eager fingers following a week apart - but to Loki, those tiny marks indented in your skin were akin to a bullet straight through your heart. 

“I hurt you,” he had said, ghosting the tips of his fingers guiltily along your thigh. “My darling, I can’t apologise enough.” 

At first, you had thought it was an act, but the heaviness that settled across his face and the pain shining in his eyes brought the realisation that he meant every word. He truly believed that ten little bruises no bigger than a fingertip had left you in agony. 

“Loki,” you had called to him softly, watching his eyes quickly rise to meet yours. Those pretty green irises held so much remorse that you wanted to wrap him in your arms and never let go. “You didn’t hurt me, love. Not in a way I didn’t enjoy, anway,” you added, reaching a hand down to cover his. 

Two perfectly groomed eyebrows had furrowed in clear confusion. “How do you mean?”

Beneath your hand, his thumb still traced slowly over the bruise it had left there, and, for some strange reason, it made heat creep slowly to your cheeks. You had talked about so many of your kinks with him - hell, only a few weeks ago you had told him it gets you going when he finishes on you - yet it was this that made you embarrassed?

“I…I like it when you mark me,” you had admitted. “Brusies, biting, I don’t care how, but I like it. I like the physical reminder that I’m yours. I like other people knowing that I’m yours.”

His hand around yours had tightened and you watched the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Say that again, darling, please. I need you to say it again,” he had said softly, a new roughness lacing around his words. 

You had bitten your lip coyly in the way you knew drove him crazy. “I want everyone to know that I’m yours, Loki. Please.”

A grin had spread cross your lovers face, one that was both soft yet wicked, and he had climbed back eagerly between your legs. “Your wish is my command, darling.” 

That had only been a few short weeks ago. Now, as he thrusts into you almost ruthlessly, his fingers are gripping your thigh so tightly to his waist that you might pass out at how good it feels. 

He’s lost the hesitancy and the fear, and now a patchwork of purple and red splotches covers every part of your body that he can reach. Your chest and stomach are covered in bruises - all courtesy of his beautifully sinful mouth - and similar marks pepper the inside of your thighs from where he had held them apart to lick you to your first orgasm. 

Tonight, you’re riding a high so powerful and so blinding that you yearn for the ability to stop time, to stay locked forever in this bed with this god between your legs. 

Loki’s hand tightens around your thigh as your climax builds, making tiny stars dance enticingly at the edge of your vision. “Oh, fuck, Loki!” you groan, clutching him to you in sheer desperation. “Please! Let everyone…let everyone know…I’m yours!” 

He rolls his hips against yours with a ferocious force that makes you whimper and pants roughly in your ear, “I promise you…no one will question who you belong to…when they see you tomorrow morning.” 

His lips find your neck and you explode on his cock to the feel of him leaving a trail of fresh marks along the column of your throat. No part of you has been neglected tonight. 

Your orgasm has barely faded when Loki pulls his cock from your cunt, and you’re still floating so blissfully on the pink cloud of release that you don’t even raise an objection when he maneuvers your body so that you’re on all fours on the bed. 

“Oh, fuck,” you slur out when his cock thrusts back into you. Vaguely, it registers somewhere in your mind that you’ve had two orgasms while Loki has still to have one. 

A shiver wracks your entire body. 

“Oh, darling,” Loki purrs in faux sympathy. You feel a large hand clamp firmly around one hip while the other gathers your wrists to pin them against the small of your back. His grip on you is heavy and unyielding, and your cunt clenches joyfully around the aching length of him. “It looks like there’s still more canvas for me to paint.”

He gives a single roll of his hips and squeezes your hip in his iron grip. A sharp cry of pleasure tumbles from your lips while you wriggle back against him, silently begging for more. “I do hope you have no prior engagements, my love, because I don’t intend to stop until every inch of you is covered in my marks.”

[sanguineterrain]

could I request a fic with insomniac!reader and tim? i love your writing im excited to see how you make his character your own! <3

thanks for the request! first time writing tim... kinda nervous like I'm on a first date 🫣 hope you like! this one isn't as mushy gushy as my usual fics (jason) so yeah. also my knowledge of yj is purely through fic 🤙

tim drake x gn!reader. tw insomnia, tim being so awkward but maybe... there are feelings... who can say. tim's character is so interesting to me (probably because I identify with him the most lmao).

****

It's really, really nice of the team to let you stay over tonight. Like, really nice.

You haven't even done much. You're pretty much a nobody in the superhero world, not even a D-list hero. Certainly not anybody that should be hanging out with the likes of Wonder Girl and Superboy and, God, Tim freakin' Drake.

Kon was just overly generous in his cool, brash way, herding you into a spare room after last night's battle. After tonight, you'll politely break away from the team to give them some reprieve. It didn't escape your notice that they didn't hang out last night like they usually do.

You've been awake for an hour now, listening for sounds of life in the corridor. If you were home, you'd already be on the couch watching crappy TV. But you really don't want to run into anyone here.

Maybe you have some chamomile tea leftover from the last time you stayed over. You hadn't stayed the whole night, slipping away without interference as most of the team had gone to their own homes.

You get up, stretching and popping joints. It's always a little cold in the Tower, and it wakes you up as you walk to the kitchen first. You're as quiet as you can be in heating the water and finding the tea.

You take your mug and head to the den. As you enter, you freeze.

Tim turns his head from his place on the couch. The blue light from the TV makes him paler, and his eyes bluer. Sometimes, he looks so much like Bruce Wayne, it startles you.

"Oh," you say, unsure what else to say. Your brain is tired and fried. "I... was just looking for my watch."

That's definitely your dumbest lie. You don't have a watch. Tim sure as fuck knows that.

His eyes flick to your wrist, as if reminding you both how stupid your lie is, then to your mug. He mutes the TV.

You stay where you are. Tim stands, obviously shouldering his own bout of insomnia.

"It's... you can come in," he says, just as awkward as you.

That's comforting. Tim's usually so suave, the few times you've interacted. He's all Gotham Heights, his upbringing never quite sloughing off no matter how many times he's probably tried to blend in and not be so... private school.

"I was just going to bed," he says quickly.

"No, you weren't," you say. You don't mean for it to come out so shrewd. Tim looks a little startled.

"I mean, you don't need to go," you add. "I'll take this to my room. It's fine. Sorry."

"No, I've been here too long anyway. I should work on my case."

Here's the thing. It's not that Tim avoids you because in order to do that, you'd have to see him more than three times a year.

But there's a distance. You've tried not to take it personally, tried to chalk it up to the fact that you're introverted and Kon and Bart are Kon and Bart, and Cassie's too straightforward to beat around the bush, and you've somehow won her over, which is nice.

And Tim is just... cautious. Paranoid.

Those are understatements, and you can't imagine the psychological damage caused by being raised by Batman, but, well, you've seen the previous and current Robins, so you can hazard a guess.

Anyway, Tim kind of acts like an unsocialized cat with you. You once mentioned it to Kon, in nicer words, but he dismissed you, saying, "Whaddya mean? Rob likes you!" Which had assuaged nothing, but whatever.

"I won't be here long," you say, as a last-ditch effort to not make it feel like you're kicking Tim out of his own space. "I just, uh, couldn't sleep."

He watches you in that freaky Bat way, like he's trying to determine if you're a threat or not. Jesus.

"It's hard for me to sleep after a battle," you add, trying to show your belly. That's how it feels, being around Tim Drake. Like you always need to be vulnerable first. Like you're in a battle of wills you didn't know you entered.

He doesn't sit down, but he does say, "Me too."

You nod and drink your cooling tea. "There's more tea in the kitchen if you want. Chamomile."

"I'm... good. Thanks."

You edge over to the armchair diagonal to the couch and sit.

"You can work in here," you say. "Unless, uh, it's too distracting. I'll keep the TV muted."

His laptop is on the other side of the couch. Tim is still, only his eyes moving from you to the laptop.

"I don't wanna push you out," you say.

"It's really fine," he replies immediately.

It's so not fine. This isn't boding well for your insomnia. You're definitely going to be agonizing over this interaction all week.

"I won't bother you," you say.

"I didn't say you would."

Then what's the problem?

Slowly, Tim returns to the couch. You look away, so it doesn't seem like you're watching his every move (you are), nor is Tim clocking your every move (he is).

He settles on the couch and opens his laptop. You drink and try to figure out what's playing on TV. It looks to be a rerun of Columbo. You smile.

"You like Columbo?"

Tim looks spooked that you're still talking to him, but he answers. "Yeah."

"Me too."

You watch Columbo silently look for clues. Tim types, fingers flying over the keyboard. Then his fingers pause.

"I used to watch it with Dick," he says. "When I first became Robin."

You nod, giving him your full attention. "Yeah? He seems like the type."

"He does a pretty good impression of him. He likes detective shows."

"You don't?" you ask.

Tim shrugs. "They're fine. I guess I just hate how predictable they can be."

"Of course the boy genius would say that," you say, smirking.

Instantly, Tim's face turns to stone. He hums, looking back at his laptop. You blink. What happened?

"Sorry. That was a joke," you say.

"I know," Tim says, any trace of warmth gone.

You're startled by the shift. "I don't—I wasn't making fun of you. I mean, you are smart. Really smart."

Tim carefully looks at you. "...Thanks."

You nod clumsily. You should've just stayed in bed.

It's quiet for a long time. You're trying to muster up the confidence to escape to your room when Tim speaks again.

"People have said stuff like that to be facetious. I... reacted without reading your tone."

It's not an apology, but it's probably the closest thing you'll get.

"It's okay," you say.

Tim nods. His shoulders aren't so tense, though his posture is atrocious when he's off-duty.

He gets up and gives you the remote. You take it, smile small. Tim retreats.

"You can unmute it if you want. I don't mind."

So you do, and you and Tim spend the next hour half-watching Columbo and half-watching each other. Eventually, your tea finishes, and the episode ends, so you get up.

"I think I'll try and sleep," you say.

Tim nods. "Good luck."

You hum. "Thanks. Good luck with the case."

"Yeah. Thanks."

You wash the mug and leave it on the dish rack. Then you escape back to your room. You really do feel like you could sleep again. Maybe Columbo reruns are the magic ingredient to a good night's sleep.

[nadvs]

I love your SWTE series! What about their first night alone after the twins are born!?

thank you so much!! 🥹 oh they def go to a hotel for a little getaway 🤭

based on this fic! 18+!

» au masterlist

it’s months before they finally feel in a good enough place to leave the twins with a close friend. they go over everything with her twice, reminding her not to hesitate to call over any little thing.

the hotel they booked is in the city, only half an hour drive away from home. it gives them both peace of mind knowing they’re close, but they vow to treat it like a vacation.

rafe’s season has been rough. the team just hasn’t been gelling and he’s not so sure about their chances in the play-offs.

it’s been a while since his girlfriend has felt confidence in herself, too. she’s been a stay at home mom, still getting used to the chaos of having twins and to the fact that her body has changed so much.

her relationship with rafe has been mainly focused on parenting. they need a date. desperately.

they get a private room in the restaurant so that they don’t have to deal with being recognized. tonight is about them only.

dinner is a long overdue chance at fun. rafe is reminded of why she became his best friend within months of knowing her all those years ago in college. they talk and laugh and order way too many appetizers.

when they walk into the hotel suite rafe booked after dinner, she’s almost at a loss for words.

“wow,” she breathes.

“you approve?” rafe says. she steps forward to look out at the city lights through the gigantic windows.

“it’s fine, i guess,” she jokes.

she feels him press up against her, his lips against the side of her neck. her body is on fire immediately. it’s been so long.

but the few times they’ve made love since the babies were born, it was in their bed, in the dark. the suite is softly lit, but it’s more than enough for him to see her naked body for the first time since she gave birth.

when his hands drag down her hips, she freezes. rafe is so intoxicated with the way her ass feels against him that he doesn’t even notice.

he continues to kiss her neck, his mouth hot on her.

“hey,” she says softly. “you know my body is… it’s different now.”

“hmm?” he mumbles.

she turns in his arms, still stiff from the feeling of his hands on her hips.

“i have a scar from the c-section,” she tells him, “and i carried two babies. i don’t look how i used to.”

rafe’s brows furrow in confusion.

“i just mean,” she says, eyes darting away, “don’t expect for me to be as hot as i used to be.”

“are you insane?” he asks. “you’re even hotter.”

“you haven’t seen me,” she says. she purposely doesn’t change in front of him and doesn’t give him opportunities to see her naked around the house.

his body is in perfect shape from his constant training and practice. but she doesn’t have the cheerleader’s body she had when they met. not even close.

“then let me see you,” he rasps. she bites her lip.

“maybe we shut off the lights?”

“fuck no,” rafe mutters with a chuckle. his hand trails up her back, finding the zipper of her dress and slowly pulling it down as he keeps his eyes locked on hers.

“rafe,” she says quietly. “i’m serious.”

“so am i. you’re not going to hide from me.”

her dress drops to the floor, pooled around her feet, leaving her in just her bra and panties.

she swears the man actually growls when he pulls her in by the waist, dipping to kiss her chest. she shudders as his fingers dip under the hook of her bra, taking it off impatiently.

she can feel how hard he is under his pants. while he could lie using his words, his body definitely can’t. he actually, really does want her. the feeling is overwhelming.

she finally eases into the motion, unbuttoning his shirt as he kisses over her collarbone. their bare chests are pressed together as he guides her to the bed, lying her down on the plush comforter.

“i’d have you up against that window,” he tells her, “but i don’t want anyone seeing what’s mine.”

his words make her feel dizzy. she pulls him down and kisses him hard. she didn’t expect to feel so wanted after he saw her naked for the first time in so long, but he seems even more passionate than he was back before she got pregnant.

rafe feels like he’s coming home when he’s on top of her like this. he can’t control his aggression, ripping her panties down and not even having the patience to take his boxers all the way off before sinking into her.

they exhale in sweet harmony when they meet, his hands pinning her wrists down against the bed as he starts to thrust.

“how hard do i have to go for you to know how hot you are?” he whispers through his short breaths.

she trembles, linking her legs around him, adjusting to his size like it’s the first time. he straightens his arms, hands still tight on her wrists, and meets her eyes as he rolls in and out of her with deep, perfect strokes.

“hard,” she challenges, simply because she knows he has it in him and that she can take it.

they make love over and over that night, lost in each other’s bodies, kissing so much that their lips get sore. afterwards, they’re tangled up naked in bed, panting and exhausted.

“i’m always going to want you, you know that?” he mumbles lazily against her neck.

she stares up at the ceiling. it’s hard to believe, considering he’s gained so much fame and popularity that he could get any woman he wanted.

“what?” he says when she doesn’t answer.

“you sure?”

“baby,” he half-chuckles. “i’m so fucking sure.”

“but my body isn’t-”

“your body gave me my children,” he interrupts. “end of story.”

she cracks a smile, gently slapping his shoulder.

“fine,” she murmurs. “end of story.”

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

01/15/2024 Crew Recap

Hey all, today has been a very very very long day. I’m typing this with my eyeballs glazed over and half open. However, so much has happened in such a little amount of time I wanted share a few things before I pass out I know a lot of you are in different timezones, are busy with life, and taking a break, so maybe this will help with parsing through some of the crazy stuff the crew has been up to.

The petition hit 50K, and is at 52.5K at the moment

Fundraisers: I didn’t even realize there were two different fundraisers for Palestine/Gaza going on but we blew both out of the water. (Note: the second picture is from a November campaign but I think its just as important to highlight— ty for the correction anon!)

The Emmys hashtag turn out was great tonight. There was some pretty amazing and creative stuff going on across all the platforms. Some can be seen on IG, but if you wanna see the majority of it, check out twitter #SaveOFMD #75thEmmys

---We have new ways of protesting and advocating for our show, see here for the thread on tumblr (from twitter):---

And to support that @saltpepperbeard was kind enough to put together a wonderful guide on how to Call It Through as a Crew: Alleviating Some Phone Anxiety which as someone who is socially anxious and sometimes verbally vomits on people when on the phone, is AMAZING and thank you so much for doing that to help.

-- > There is also this new thread on some new places to call into. Don't quote me on that being an official thing we should do, I'm sure @renewasacrew and others will have more in the AM, I just wanted to share it so people could follow if they wanted to.

------------------

New Articles!

Our Flag Means Death: Here’s why season three deserves to be aired

Petition to save BBC show with rare Rotten Tomatoes score gets 50,000 signatures

------------------

There's so much more that's happened today-- but I can't write it all down because my brain is couscous.

<---So instead, I'm going to use this last part to gush over you all and your amazing contributions in all your unique ways. The community support the last few days has been SO INCREDIBLY UPLIFTING.-->

I saw (and experienced) people reblogging asks where random followers, anons, and mutuals just reached out and sent love because they could tell people were struggling.

I've seen comments all over the place on Tumblr, IG, Twitter, and Facebook where each and every person is encouraging each other to speak their mind, or complimenting their artwork, encouraging them if they were feeling uncomfortable with things outside their comfort zones, coming up with new and exciting ways to fight back, people reaching out to the cast/crew just to say hi and remind them we love them.

I've seen Self-Care checkpoints all over, reminding people to drink water, take a break, block your notifications for a while, not engaging in negative behavior.

I've seen people being so nice on instagram posts that the people who were being dicks about all our comments turned around and decided to watch OFMD!

I saw so many people doing new analysis of scenes and characters, and having really deep and friendly discussions that make everyone think in new ways.

I saw people digging through old tumblrs to bring life back to old posts and artwork.

I saw so much NEW artwork, new FICS! New GIFS! So much new art and love!

I could literally go on and on, but I've just...I had to dump this out of my brain otherwise I'd explode. I've just seen so much today that continues to make me so proud of our little safe space ship and so happy to be apart of this community.

You all continue to be the best of the best of humans, and I am so very grateful to get to witness and be apart of it. Rest up lovelies and have a good day / night, wherever you may be. May you dream of sexy middle-aged gay men kissing, or hugging, or whatever else you want them to be getting into.

[tragedybunny]

hehehe~ perhaps a cute fic with reader and Astarion and he talks about all the parties he used to go to before he was turned- and he dances with you 😳

Anon - So this took on a life of it's own, it reminded me of some of my Tav's backstory, so I worked in some elements of it. I hope it's still good. 🥺

Rhythm Like a Heartbeat - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion and Reader share a dance that reveals more than they planned.

Wyll was teaching Karlach to dance, of all things you'd seen on this journey, this was somehow amongst the most surprising. The Blade and the "Devil" he should've slayed, moving together along with the melody from an enchanted music box someone had picked up along the way. The two of them seemed to be growing closer, and you couldn't be happier for them. You took a long drink from a pilfered wine bottle while you watched, you were all blowing off a little steam, which was well needed. Digging around for Kethric's weakness was a daunting task and the clock inside of all of you was still ticking. "Not rethinking your choices I hope." 

You'd been so lost in thought you hadn't heard Astarion come up behind you. Or he'd intentionally snuck up on you. When he wanted to go unheard or unseen, you usually didn't have a chance of not getting ambushed. Mostly he seemed to enjoy the little jump you made when surprised. Tonight you didn't disappoint, exuding a high-pitched noise along with jumping. "Astarion," you scold, "honestly! And no, of course not, just impressed by Wyll's form." 

"Really," he scoffed, not hiding his jealous streak very well at all, "he looks like a gangly teenage boy at his first gala. Clearly, you haven't had much experience in the ballroom." Part of you wanted to laugh a little, the insult was obviously ridiculous, but you knew his jealousy came from fear that he barely held on to you and could still lose you. Maybe sometime you should use the tadpole to show him just how impossible that would be. If only the thought of it didn’t fill you with revulsion. 

“I didn’t know you were such an expert, love,” you know he feels comfortable with the playful banter, and you hope it pulls him away from that place of insecurity. 

A sharp laugh answers you, “I’ll have you know I had plenty of experience, both in life and unlife.” You shoot him a look, he rarely speaks of life before Cazador, you’re not even sure how much he remembers of it. “What? I had an important job, I knew important people. Or are you just trying to get me to teach you?” An outstretched arm beckons you to join him. For a second you freeze, knowing you’re risking exposing everything you’ve held back. But hells, if you say no, he’ll take it the wrong way entirely. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be a quick study.” 

Taking his arm, you let him lead you a distance from the tent, glad Wyll and Karlach are still the center of attention, and gracefully dip your knee as he bows. Gently, one hand takes yours, the other held properly tucked behind his back. The rhythm is an easy one, but you let him take the lead. Soft steps, elaborate turns around one another, your eyes locked with his. Gods, his eyes are breathtaking when he’s looking at you, when his guard is down, soft and shining with light. Tonight, they seem full of mirth, but you’ve seen them overflowing with his sorrow and tears as well. They’ve distracted you and you forget, he’s supposed to be teaching you, your form is too good. 

Step away, one spin, back to back, face each other, palms touching. Skin like ice presses against yours, heating up with the exertion and the emotions humming through your every nerve. One night he asked if it bothered you, lying next to the chill of the grave. You only hugged him tighter and told him not to be ridiculous because you couldn’t find the right words at the time to explain that it was part of who he was and you loved all of him, even the pieces that might not seem loveable. Thinking of it that way now though, you should tell him. 

Another turn, facing away from one another again, a chance to catch your breath. It’s madness how he still affects you, even after you’d confessed to one another, you’re still swooning nervously. He’s right when he calls you “silly girl” teasingly. The finale, one more elaborate twirl, you’re no longer even thinking of the dance, muscle memory taking over. His hand catches yours and you step close to him, closer than the propriety of a noble’s dance floor would’ve ever allowed. Cheekily, he leans forward, stealing a quick kiss. “It would seem you have more talents than you’ve let on.” 

“I…”, you really don’t want to lie to him. The silence stretches far too long. “It would seem so.” 

“Hmm,” you feel him studying you, and you realize his eyes are guarded again, his posture rigid. “So tell me one thing,” you nod, terrified you’re about to shatter that fragile bond you’ve built. Lies by omission are still lies. “Which noble house are you a runaway from?” His voice is cold and hard, the Astarion you met on the beach that fateful day. How fast he can change wounds you, just like that, he’s ready to be done with you. But it’s your fault, you know how years of horror have left him with walls he’s too quick to bring up. “Or do you want to keep lying to me?” 

You shake your head. “I wish I could say.” 

“And here I thought we really had something, but clearly,” he gestures wildly, unable to contain his rising temper. 

Stinging tears begin to prick your eyes. “No, no, I wish I could say,” you emphasize, praying he’ll understand. 

Suddenly, he stills, hand coming to your cheek, eyes wide. “Is this a warlock thing?” A thumb brushes away the tear that escaped and you hear agonized regret in his voice. “Oh darling, I’m sorry, don’t cry.” Arms pull you into his chest. “Please, I didn’t realize, it’s fine.” 

“I wanted to tell you,” you sniffle into his shirt.

“Hush love, you can tell me what you’re able to, when you’re ready. Although I must insist you consider us even for any prior deception of mine. Even ones you haven’t realized yet.” He laughs that awkward, nervous laugh that happens when he’s upset, but he’s trying so you let yourself giggle a bit. “There’s my girl. Now how about we dance again and no holding back? I need to know if I can actually keep up with you.” 

The music box is still playing but you’re no longer aware of anyone else in the camp. There’s only the two of you, softly and slowly moving together. Gone are the thoughts of the elaborate courtly show, you move by instinct, bodies responding to one another as you press close together. Then you still, let yourself be wrapped in his arms, your lips brushing the hollow of his throat. “I can at least tell you that you’re the best dance partner I’ve ever had.” 

“Never doubted it my sweet,” you feel him kiss the crown of your head before resting his cheek against it.

[onceuponastory]

first footing - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Bucky thought he was going to spend New Year's alone, just how he likes it... until Y/N showed up. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: A few mentions of alcohol and being drunk. There's also some light mentions of Bucky's past as TWS. But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: Happy New Year my lovelies! In Scotland (where I'm from if you didn't already know) we have a tradition called first footing, where the first person to enter your house in the New Year brings luck with them (and usually alcohol, hahaha). I realised I wanted to write something with Bucky and this tradition (because lord knows he needs the luck) so here we are! Consider this fic me first footing you all ❤️

Also, incase you're wondering, a dram is a small measure of whisky. Not beta'd (I wrote this quickly bc the idea hit me like an hour ago), so any mistakes are my own.

“Happy New Year!” The TV host announces, cheering with the crowd behind her, and Bucky rolls his eyes, switching it off. He hates this time of year. He knows that the old him, the Sergeant, would be out there wooing girls, with a promise to kiss each of them as soon as the clock struck twelve. He misses those days. Back when the worst thing he had to worry about was looking good for his dates, and not… everything that’s happened to him in the last seventy years. And although New Year’s exemplifies change and bettering yourself, Bucky still hates it. Sure, everyone can make a change. He’s living proof of that.

But New Year’s is just so… loud now, and there’s so much pressure to better yourself, to change something about yourself. It symbolises everything he hates. God, he really is an old man.

Or maybe he hates it because he’s spending it alone, like usual. Or that despite the amount of personal growth he’s done over the year, each new year always seems to be a horrible reminder of everything he once was, and everything he’s lost.  

Now that’s not to say Bucky hasn’t been invited to things tonight. He’d just… rather do everything but. All he wants is to go to bed and pretend tonight never happened, like the old man he is.

Suddenly, a knock on the door cuts through the air, causing Bucky to frown. He’s not expecting someone tonight. He can tell who it’ll probably be though - Steve or Sam, telling him to stop being boring and to get over to Tony’s party with the others. The knock sounds again, the person clearly impatient. “Alright, alright!” Bucky groans, making his way to the door and opening it. “Steve, I told you I’m not- Y/N?”

“Took you long enough.” She teases. Bucky’s mouth drops open, and his mind goes blank. He’s speechless. All he can do is look at her. The snow caught in her hair seems to sparkle in the light, and the way she looks at him, her trademark bright smile on her face, makes his heartbeat increase and his stomach flutter. 

God, she’s so beautiful.

“Happy New Year, Buck.” She smiles, holding up a bottle of whisky. 

“What…what are you doing here?” Bucky gasps in confusion, yet he still can’t stop a relieved smile from gracing his lips. He doesn’t have to spend his New Year alone with his thoughts. This time, he gets to spend it with his favourite person. But another thought, one that makes his heart skip a beat, hits him. Y/N chose him. Out of all the options she had, including a fancy Stark party with the others, who are most definitely more fun than he is… she still chose to spend time with him. And that makes Bucky Barnes feel like the most important person in the world.

“Well, I was going to first foot you.…” She chuckles. “But I can’t do that if you don’t let me in.” Still frowning, Bucky steps aside and helps Y/N take her coat off. 

“You’re going to what?” Y/N laughs, another burst of laughter that Bucky swears is improving his mood by the second.

“First footing. It’s a tradition where the first person to enter your house after the clock strikes twelve brings good luck with them.” She grins. “So…here I am.” 

“Y/N, you don’t have to be here. I know spending tonight with an old man like me isn’t very fun. Go party.”

“No way!” Y/N shakes her head, heading to his kitchen. “There’s no place I’d rather be than here, with my favourite person.” She calls. Bucky’s heart almost goes into overdrive.

“Thank you.” He smiles, watching her go. “It means a lot.” More than she’ll ever know.

~ * ~

“Here we go.” Y/N grins, passing Bucky his dram of whisky. “Cheers Bucky.” 

“Cheers, doll.” He chuckles, clinking his glass against hers. Together, they down their drink. Despite the minimal amount of alcohol, and the fact the serum means he can’t get drunk, Bucky still feels the familiar warm feeling pooling in his gut, and the heat spreading across his cheeks. And especially how all he wants to do is smile.

But that could just be the beautiful woman sitting opposite him, the candlelight casting a soft glow over her features. The one who chose him over everyone else. The one he’s so deeply and irrevocably in love with. He swears he could just kiss her right there and then. He just can’t bring himself to do it, or even tell her how he feels. Despite how much he loves Y/N, Bucky swears that the pain of losing her and her friendship would be enough to finish him off right there and then. So, he stays quiet and lets the pain of not telling her, and the thought she could be with someone else eat him up inside.

“Any other traditions for me tonight?” Bucky raises a brow. 

“Other than finishing this whiskey? Nope.” Y/N chuckles as Bucky pours them both some more.

“Thanks again for tonight, Y/N.” Bucky smiles. “I mean, I wasn’t going to spend it alone. I wanted to go to the party, but-” He lies, trying desperately not to sound so lonely and pathetic. But a gentle, reassuring touch on his forearm stops him. Despite the gentleness of her touch, Bucky’s skin burns under it.

“It’s alright.” Y/N smiles. “I know.” What did he ever do to deserve someone like Y/N in his life? Perhaps he was a saint in a previous life. But even that wouldn’t be enough, make him anywhere close to worthy of having Y/N as a best friend. She looks at him intently, staring into his eyes. Bucky feels the heat on his cheeks deepening. “You know….” She chuckles.

“Mhm?”

“I know you think resolutions suck, but I have one this year. And there’s no better time than half twelve in the morning on January 1st to do it, huh?”  

“I don’t think they suck, they’re just not my thing.” Bucky corrects her, but he can’t stop his brow from quirking up. “What’s your resolution?” Y/N leans in, so close Bucky can feel her breath against his skin. It’s enough to drive him crazy.

“To not let anything pass me by, to take each opportunity as it comes.” She grins.

“That’s a good resolution.” Bucky nods, regretting his words almost immediately. Why the hell would he say that, of all things?

“So. Here it goes.” Y/N takes a breath. “This may be the whisky talking, but… I refuse to go another year without telling you this. I am in love with you, Bucky Barnes.” Bucky almost keels over. He almost asks her to repeat what she just said, or even to pinch him. But then she continues. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way… well, it would hurt a lot, but I just have to tell you because I couldn’t bear another day without you knowing.”

Bucky chuckles, cupping her chin. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that for so long.” He smiles, and Y/N’s grin grows just as wide. “You know….” He whispers. “There’s another New Year’s tradition I can think of.” Leaning in, he softly presses his lips to hers.

Something tells him this year is going to be pretty damn incredible.

~ * ~

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[armysantiny]

12:44 – 재민 (Jaemin)

P: Jaemin x female reader | G: timestamp, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff | Inc: office au, lunch breaks, established relationship, descriptions of self-loathing, planning dinner, Jaemin offering to pick y/n up from work | Wc: 463 | W: self-loathing| R: G

Min's notes: fun fact I literally started the word doc at 12:44 on Thursday :D this whole fic is self-indulgent honestly, I needed this on the day, bc this was exactly how much lunch break went haha. Just without Jaemin.

There’s an ache in y/n’s chest as she slumps into the booth. The office is awash with conversation, her colleagues all walking past on their way to the cafeteria. She’d join them, on a normal day, and bask in the reprieve it grants her away from her desk. But today, she just can’t seem to bring herself to get up, to go and join the general office population. Not when her chest is tight and coiled with self-loathing, a thick sludge that coats every part of her brain and body.

She just can’t do it today.

Lunch itself doesn’t seem all to appealing anymore, and she sets her lunchbox aside, silently grieving the lack of appetite while she downs an iced coffee, the second caffeinated beverage she’s had today. Maybe that’s what’s toying with her, y/n’s mind supplies, subtle palpitations aching to prove her threadbare theory right.

But the HR admin’s had more coffee without any adverse effects, and the true culprit of her turmoil taunts her again. It’s almost pathetic, how easily her train of thought slips into cruel lies, reminding y/n by the second of her imagined incompetence.

Always bothering them, always wasting everyone’s time. Utterly useless human being.

Her phone’s ringing. Her personal phone. The call’s answered before y/n can think about letting it ring out, a whisper of desperate hope that wants whoever it is on the other line to either save her from her thoughts or put her out of her damned misery. One way or another. She isn’t picky.

“Hello, my love,” Jaemin hums, his voice bright and cheerful and undeserving of y/n’s inner misery, “I’m picking up some things for dinner tonight, how’s work going?”

“I..” and the words clog in her throat, suffocating her with the threat of burning tears until she can force them out. “I think I’ll head home early today; I need a break.”

And on the other end, in the middle of the supermarket, Jaemin’s face knits into a frown, concern making a home in his chest. Y/n didn’t sound like she was upset that morning, but now? Now it sounds like the love of his life is fracturing around the edges, desperate for salvation of any kind. He needs to get a move on, hurry home and make sure everything’s in place to give his girlfriend the tenderness she needs.

He can start with a simple offer, however.

“Do you want me to come pick you up when I’m finished with the shopping?” Jaemin offers, standing in line for the cashier. He waits for an answer, counting the seconds as they drag on, each long and—

“Please, Min. I miss you..” Y/n’s voice hovers through, and Jaemin’s plans are set.

“I’ll be over as soon as I’m done, my love.”

© copyright work of armysantiny 2024-2025

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[stickymolasses]

NEW SLANG

pairing: harry osborn (marvels spiderman 2 ps5) x reader (no use of y/n, not gendered)

summary: you are a young adult who had to put a pause on your schooling due to unforeseen circumstances. you work at a cotton candy stand on coney island and harry and you chat, perhaps leading to a new beginning for the both of you.

characters: harry osborn, peter parker, mary jane watson

warnings: mention of gambling, writer being stupid :3

an: hello! this is my first fic on this blog. if you like this first chapter let me know and i'll write another one! i have never really written fanfiction on tumblr or at least never uploaded on here but i figured i'd give it a try. i love harry in spidey ps5 so badddd and there just aren't enough fics for him :> be on the lookout for another an at the end of the fic! i don't really know how this stuff works yet but if you're interested in being put on my tags list for this work let me know!

Coney Island was so beautiful at this time of night. The night sky was illuminated with the sparkling shine that the entertainment district gave off. Despite the enchanting scenery, a sense of melancholy enveloped you on this particular night. The realization of your current situation hit home as a teenage girl, clad in an Empire State University sweater, approached your cotton candy stand—a stark reminder of why you were working here. 

You could’ve been in her shoes if not for the string of unfortunate events that unfolded in quick succession. Moving out of your aunt and uncle's place had been challenging due to the soaring living costs in New York City. To make matters worse, your ex-lover's reckless gambling had drained your finances, forcing you to put a pause on your education. The dream of becoming a great astronomer remained unfulfilled, and instead, you found yourself working at a shitty cotton candy stand.

Nights like these were bustling, contributing to your current state of dismay. The boardwalk teemed with people, immersed in the company of their significant others and friends—something you currently lacked.

The lingering summer heat made you sweat a little. Adjusting your uniform, you opened the topmost button, and as you looked up, three people stood before you—two redheads and a brunette. "Hi, welcome to Coney Cotton Candy. What can I get for you guys?"

You smile and greet your customers with as much delight as you can conjure. One of the redheads, a very handsome young man, opens his mouth to speak but quickly closes it and furrows his eyebrows instead. 

You greeted your customers with a forced delight. The handsome young man among them hesitated before making his order. His friend, addressed as Pete, clarified the order, and the other two in the group walked away, seemingly a couple. 

“Alright, can we get three of the little cones?” He fumbled through his wallet, and you noticed his striking green eyes. As you handed back his credit card, his gaze lingered in a way that made your stomach twist. 

“Have we met before? I feel like I know you,” he pondered.

“Um, I don’t think so. Maybe you’ve shopped here before?” you suggested, playing it cool.

“Did you go to Midtown High? Or maybe you went to Empire State?” he continued. 

“I went to ESU. I couldn't finish my degree, though–unforeseen circumstances,” you replied, throwing up finger quotes. He looked sympathetic, a reaction that both touched and frustrated you.  

“I’m sorry, I’ve had some of those lately too. I graduated from ESU in ‘21. What were you studying?” The line behind him grew, and despite wanting to chat further, you had a job to do. 

“Astronomy. I’m sorry, but there are customers behind you,” you said, cutting the conversation short. He apologized to the people in line, turning to leave but hesitating for a moment. 

“When you get off tonight, come meet me at the Speed Demon!” he called back. 

“Please!”

As you continued working, typing into the cash register, and dealing with an impatient mother, you awaited the hour when you would be free.  

You sigh, locking the register and slinging your tote bag over your shoulder. The remainder of your shift proved fairly uninteresting after your run-in with the man with pretty green eyes. Walking across the park, you take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the Atlantic. The waves crash on the shore, creating a soothing backdrop to your uncertain life.

When you arrive at the Speed Demon, the designated meeting spot with the intriguing young man from earlier, you find him leaning casually against the head requirement chart.

"How did you know when I got off work?" you question him, suspicion coloring your tone.

"It said the booth closes at midnight on weekends. I only assumed you wouldn’t have to stay much later than that," he replies, eyeing your face and studying your expressions.

"So, why did you want to meet with me?" you inquire again.

“You said you were studying to be an astronomer, right?” he replies, matter-of-factly.

“Yes, but I told you I couldn’t get my degree. I—”

He cuts you off, “It doesn’t matter; are you good at it?”

“I mean, yes, I would hope so. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been passionate about. I wanted to heal the environment, starting with the stars.” He smirks and looks at his feet, shuffling them.

“Well, would you be interested in not working at Coney Cotton Candy? N-Not that this job isn’t worth your time or anything…” He stumbles over his words a little, getting to his point.

“What are you saying?” Your left eyebrow kicks up in curiosity at his remarks.

“I have a startup foundation in Manhattan. I’m trying to gather as many great scientists and innovators as I can. You seem like a great fit, and it could help you finish your studies.” He smiles wide, and you note that his teeth are perfect.

“Why should you hire some person you don’t know? Isn’t that a little bit sketchy?” You place your hands in your thin jacket pockets and fidget around a little bit, thinking. If he is serious about this, you could kiss him. You would rather work any job other than your current one, no matter a real job where you can actually do what you went to school for.

“You just have that look in your eyes; I can see what type of person you are. You want to help people too. We’d still have to do a real interview, of course; I need to make sure you’re qualified.” He laughs, and his eyes sparkle with enthusiasm; he means what he says.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt.” You roll your neck around a few times, tired from a day's work.

He holds his hand out for you to shake it, and you do.

“We are going to heal the world.”

“So, you haven’t even told me your name yet,” he remarks, walking by your side to the subway station.

“I can say the same thing about you, mystery man. If you weren’t so handsome, I would think you were just some creep trying to murder me,” you admit, probably a little bit too honestly.

He gasps and places a hand on his chest, in faux offense. “I would never, and my name is Harry. Harry Osborn.”

You tell him your name, and he repeats it to himself a few times under his breath. “That's a nice name; it suits you.”

He looks at you, as you are examining your feet. You feel his gaze on you but don’t want to scare him away, so you continue to feign interest in the floor.

“What happened to the people you were with earlier? They ditch you?” you ask, curious about the whereabouts of the group he was with earlier.

“I told them I had some work stuff to do, and they didn’t ask many questions. It was date night for them anyway. I was kind of third-wheeling.” He lets out a small laugh at the admission.

The two of you continue to engage in small talk throughout your walk. When you eventually reach your destination, he stops you.

“Hey, I just wanted to say thank you for giving me the time of day. Not just anyone would do that; you said it yourself, I could have been some kind of psycho freak murderer.” He pauses for a second, opening his mouth and closing it again, thinking about his next words. “I have to be honest, I really wanted to talk to you because I thought you were beautiful; it just helped that you were exactly what my startup is looking for.”

You feel heat rising to your face due to his gentle compliment. Since your last relationship, no one had ever called you beautiful; they only ever called you asking for a check. “Thanks, you’re not too bad yourself. I seriously hope I knock that interview out of the park; I’d rather not go back to slinging cotton candy.”

He chuckles and shakes your hand again, clasping over it with his other hand, lingering for a while. “I’ll see you then.”

part 2: here an: hello! what did you think? reader lowkey miserable until harry shows up LOL. i really wanna do fun stuff with this story idk. i am hoping it came across the way i imagined it! i just like need harry carnally and i realized no one was gonna write about him so i had to take matters into my own hands.

[msbigredmachine]

Coming In London (Jey Uso/OC)

A date night for the ages across the pond. Post-Money in the Bank 2023. Jey Uso/OC one-shot.

Warnings: SMUT

Word count: 5.5k

A/N: New Edition's 'Can You Stand The Rain' was my muse for this fic. It kinda fit. I'm not weird I promise.

Enjoy!

--------------

Money in the Bank was so much fun! 

Zainab had attended a number of WWE shows with some great audiences in the past couple of years, but there was something about the atmosphere in the O2 Arena that could not be replicated elsewhere. They were on fire all night, especially for the main event, yet another one her boyfriend and his twin brother were headlining this year. Watching him feed off the fans’ energy and tear it up with his three brothers was mesmerizing. Emotions ran high afterwards and she ended up hanging out in the hotel lounge with the Bloodline and several other Superstars till the early hours of Sunday morning. It was hard to fall asleep with how happy everyone was about the great show they’d put on.

Jey was still passed out at breakfast time, buried beneath the white sheets of the plush bed of their hotel suite. Deciding not to disturb him, Zainab went alone, and ran into Jimmy and Roman at the buffet table. They were still buzzing from last night. As she kept them company, she noticed there was something else exciting them. They kept checking their phones, smiling from ear to ear and sharing secret looks. Her curiosity was piqued, but before she could press for more info, both men finished up their breakfast and quickly kissed her goodbye before leaving for their flights back home.

When she returned to her man, he was awake but still in bed, with his phone in his hands, the sheets pooled around his waist and his hair all disheveled and sexy. Damn, he looked so good. Like, “I woke up like this” kinda good.

“Morning, sexy. Hope you didn’t miss me too much,” she greeted, giggling when he yanked her down to the bed the moment she was within reach, almost knocking off her glasses. She accepted his soft, gentle kisses as his arms wrapped around her. He tasted like mint, like he’d just brushed his teeth. “I brought you a couple of muffins, a banana and some yogurt. How ya feelin’?”

“Like I been hit by a damn truck,” he murmured, sitting up to rest his back against the headboard while keeping his hold on her waist. “How was breakfast?”

“Good. Your twin and Roman were there. They were acting real sus. Kept smilin’ all wide and shit and checking their phones like you’re doing now. Who are y’all gossiping about?”

“Haha, no one, babe. We just goofin’ around.” Clearing his throat and putting his phone away, he smoothly changed the subject. “Date night at the London Eye is a go. Tonight gon’ be lit, baybeee.”

Zainab pursed her lips and adopted her most neutral expression. “Are you sure we’ll be able to go? You still look really tired.”

Jey couldn’t hold back his laugh at her faux concern. “Z, I’m good. We goin’. Don’t know why you so scared.”

“You know I don’t like heights, Mr. Day One Ish,” she rolled her eyes.

“Last time I was in London, I went on the ride. The view was unbelievable and I told myself I’d take you there if we ever got the chance. Don’t be a scaredy cat. I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

Whenever his mind was set on something, he went through with it no matter what. Since he only wanted to show her a good time, she decided to indulge him. “Fine. Bianca invited me for afternoon tea. Imma do a little shopping afterwards, maybe get my nails done too. I’ll be back in time for tonight.”

Jey reached for his wallet and handed her his black American Express card. “Here. Go crazy with it. Just make sure you look sexy for me tonight.”

Zainab sighed dramatically and plucked the hard plastic from between his fingers, previous back-and-forths reminding her that he would not take no for an answer. “You spoil me too much, babe.”

She tried to sound stern, but that smile he loved was bright and happy, and he couldn’t stop himself from stealing another kiss. “For you, baby, ain’t no such thing as too much.” He meant it. She had him sprung, head over heels for her. He would give her the world if she asked for it. She worked so hard on the daily and she deserved to be spoiled and pampered all the time.

Zainab’s fingers trailed over his pec tattoo as a fiendish idea came to her. “Hmm. Would you like something in return then, Daddy? It’ll be unfair for you to do all the giving.”

“Well, if you insist…” he rasped, taking her hand and putting it between his legs, making her cup him through the sheets. His other hand curled dangerously around her neck, squeezing lightly, watching the flame of desire ignite in her gorgeous eyes, “...You can gimme that throat.”

His gruff demand, topped by his darkened irises and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, had her pussy purring. She drew the sheets off him and exposed his mouth-watering erection. Adjusting her frame on the bed, she closed her fist around his dick, leaning down to flick her tongue over the slit of his head, and her smirk widened when a sharp hiss escaped him. 

“Whatever Daddy wants, Daddy gets,” she said to him with a wink, licking him one more time. As her mouth sank lower down his shaft, Jey felt his bones melt, and he laid back with a relaxed sigh and let her work her magic on him.

Today was going to be a great day.

-----------------

The weather was nice, mostly sunny with none of the infamous London rain showers in sight, thank God. After tea at the highly esteemed Fortnum & Mason, she headed out to the High Street with Bianca Belair to find a knockout outfit for tonight. The odds were in her favor as she quickly found a pair of heels that would rock her man’s world once he saw them. That inspired her to search for an equally stunning dress, and several stores later, she came across one that made even notoriously-hard-to-impress Bianca’s jaw drop. So that was settled. Next stop was Agent Provocateur. The store was stacked with so many beautiful designs of lingerie, it was tough to choose. With Bianca’s approval, Zainab finally settled on a blood-red, backless lace push-up bra and matching thong. She was highly impressed with the amount of cleavage the bra afforded her and how the color made her skin pop. She looked forward to watching it get torn apart by her boyfriend tonight.  

Her predictions were headed in the right direction, as said boyfriend was already drooling before they left their suite for dinner. “Damn, girl. I ain't sure I wanna let you leave this room no more,” Jey drawled, resting his hands on her shapely hips. “You look good enough to eat, baby.”

Laughing as he tugged her backwards right up against his crotch, Zainab didn’t take her eyes off the mirror as she bumped him away with her backside. “Down, boy, before you make me drop my contact lens. This was your idea so we’re going. But who knows?” She locked darkened eyes with him through the round shaped mirror and twerked her ass for his benefit. “If I enjoy myself, I’ll be sure to let you…eat me…later tonight.”

Damn. “We’re gonna have an awesome time tonight, later and afterwards,” he declared loudly and confidently, finishing with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows that made her laugh. Her boyfriend could be so goofy sometimes.

—-----------

Dinner was quiet and intimate, and Zainab couldn't help but feel loved up and romantic as her man kept sweeping her off her feet. He was super attentive and she was enjoying the attention and their playful banter. She loved that he topped up her wine glass whenever it emptied, loved that he fed her the last piece of his steak. Being together like this was really nice; thanks to their busy careers, this kind of alone time was a luxury, one neither Jey nor Zainab took for granted.

The walk from the food market to the world famous ferris wheel was thankfully a short one. Zainab beamed as she entered the structure known as Cupid’s Pod and was greeted with rows of red roses and candles decorating the enclosure.

The ride came with a complimentary bottle of Rosé Champagne and a luxury box of Pink Champagne Truffles, set up on the wooden oval bench in the middle of the pod. Jey was right about the views from inside the London Eye. They were unbelievable, overlooking the boats gliding along the River Thames and several high rise buildings. The higher they went, the quieter it became, save for the personalized playlist playing softly in the background. Snuggled up with Jey on the bench, Zainab sipped some more champagne, indulged in some chocolate and basked in the ambience and the safety of her man's arms, which currently were around her waist, the heat of his body pressed against her from behind. His soft lips dispensed tender kisses along the curve of her neck, eliciting a small, welcoming moan from her at his gentle caresses. 

“You so damn fine, girl,” he complimented, pressing more kisses to her skin, absorbing her intoxicating scent. “I’m glad you’re in London with me.”

“Thank you, my love. I’m glad I’m here with you too,” she smiled up at him, lazily rubbing his thigh.

“We met on this day two years ago. Do you remember?” he asked.

Zainab sighed dreamily, her eyes closed as she nuzzled her face against his. “Like it was yesterday.”

“Mm-hmm. I also remember your stubborn ass ain’t want nothin’ to do with me.”

“I told you why. I dated a soccer player and a basketball player. They both put me through some shit. Didn’t want to deal with another athlete.”

"Naw, baby girl. None of them dudes was right for you, that's all," Jey stated matter-of-factly, his toothy smirk showing off his silver jeweled grill.

“Ha, ‘course you’d say that.” Their romance was a slow burn, as both were still struggling with recent personal heartbreak when they first met. But their deep attraction to one another was something neither could stop themselves from exploring. When he was still working in the Thunderdome, he would make the trip to Fort Lauderdale to see her after the show every Friday night so they could bond and get to know each other better. They didn't even start sleeping together right away, because they were more interested in learning about each other first. When he resumed traveling, Zainab was sure that she would never hear from him again. But nothing changed. Not a day went by when he didn’t call her; a month did not pass without them meeting up at least once. She had been afraid of falling for him, but it was impossible not to. The man was beautiful, inside and out; not without his flaws and bad habits, but who wasn’t? 

At first, she wasn’t sure how long they would last, given his crazy schedule and his history, along with her own bad breakups. But somehow she shelved all those fears and worked with him to strengthen their relationship. The fact that they were now one of the few couples in their circle still going strong to this day, meant they were doing something right. 

She studied his features as he took her hands in his. There was a nervous energy about him tonight he'd been trying to conceal, but it only felt more palpable now. “You okay, baby?” she queried. 

“Any regrets? Ya know, gettin' with me?” he asked, his voice quiet and shy.

She made a show of thinking about it. “About two or three, maybe,” she shrugged, and burst into laughter at his bombastic side-eye. “I’m just playin’,” she chortled, nudging him playfully. “We’ve had our ups and downs like any other couple, but it’s been incredible. I won't change a thing. You're an amazing boyfriend, Jey.”

“You’re amazing, Z. You’re a special person, and you been so good to me these past couple of years. I love you.” He smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but shiver at the intensity in his eyes. 

“I love you too.” The feeling was still so surreal after all this time. Every time he said those words to her, she had to catch her breath. She knew about what he had endured in his past and how long it took for him to open up again. Knowing that he felt this way about her made her heart swell. She had never felt as happy and as loved as she did with him.

The moment stretched with them gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. Zainab raised his hand to her lips and placed a soft kiss across his knuckles. With that same hand, Jey caressed her cheek, down to her jaw, cupping her chin. His thumb softly rubbed across her bottom lip. Boldly, she sucked the tip into her mouth, her heated stare locked on him, and he could not resist replacing his thumb with his lips, feeding her with warm, languid kisses that made her lady bits clench and her toes curl. 

Their little make out session was interrupted by the British A.I. woman’s voice announcing that they were at the very top of London. Jey reluctantly released Zainab and helped her to her feet. “The best of all the views is right here, babe. Take a look.” He pointed, gently rotating her and stepping back.

Summoning enough courage to go closer to the railings she’d been avoiding all evening, she cast a cautious glance out at the wondrous skyline before her. “You know what? I think I’m getting used to the height now,” she agreed, turning back around for his rebuttal.

Jey was down on one knee. A little velvet box was open in his hands with a sparkling diamond ring shining out of it.

Zainab burst out laughing and covered her face. “Oh my god you asshole! Are you fuckin’ serious?!”

Jey feigned hurt. “I know your ass ain’t cussin’ me out while I’m about to propose to you, woman,” he exclaimed, watching her walk away with her hands still on her face. He could hear her laughter gradually disintegrate, and when her shoulders began to shake with sobs, his eyes prickled. “Z…Baby, come here, I got somethin’ I wanna ask you,” he called out softly to her.

She was sure she was dreaming. It was a struggle processing this overwhelming surge of happiness, a happiness that only Jey Uso made her feel. She had to sit back down because her legs were shaking. She would definitely fall over and ruin this beautiful moment he'd clearly worked hard to set up. Luckily, Jey was kneeling before her, his hand resting on her thigh while holding up the ring to her. Her tears flowed freely, but he was there to wipe each one away, being there for her as he had been for the last two years.

“Fuck, I had a whole speech planned out and shit,” he whispered, his own voice clogged with emotion, “But now I got nothing, except that I’m so in love with you, baby. You changed my life, and I wanna be with you for the rest of it. Thank you for teaching me how to love again. Zainab Ortega, my queen, my love, will you marry me?”

Tears kept streaming down her cheeks, threatening to ruin her makeup as she stared at the man she loved more than anything in the whole world. She had only one answer. “Of course. Yes, yes I will,” she replied without hesitation, nodding enthusiastically as she watched him slide the stunning diamond ring on her finger. It fit perfectly.  

Jey’s head was spinning. He never thought he’d be in this position so soon after Nisha. He thought he would never find love again. The morning Nisha breathed her last breath, he all but lost his will to wrestle, to function, to live. Never did he imagine that just eighteen months later, at a fundraiser to combat the disease that took his wife, he would meet someone else that made his heart flutter again, that caused his skin to sprout goosebumps with just a smile. At first, he felt so guilty and so ashamed of his feelings. But before her passing, Nisha had made him promise to move on, to open his heart again if he ever found the right woman. 

So he did. Allowed himself to fall in love one more time. He couldn’t believe he’d found such a beautiful, caring, patient, sexy ass woman like Zainab. Her kind soul, her perennial optimism and her zest for life inspired him to push on with his own. Now, his career was thriving and he was in the best shape of his life. In so many ways, she saved his life. Putting a ring on her finger made all the sense in the world to him. With this, everything between them would become that much more final, much more complete. 

Zainab stared down at her finger in complete awe. “It's so pretty! I can’t believe it. This must have been such a difficult step to take, baby,” she said, looking at him.

“At first, it was,” he confessed, wiping the corners of his eyes with the pad of his thumb. “But then I quickly realized how much in love I was with you, and I couldn’t live without you. I got that ring made two months ago, ma. This weekend wasn’t gonna go by without me poppin’ the question. Nisha will always be in my heart, but it’s you and me now, Z.”

She nodded in understanding and pulled him close, pressing her lips against his. “I would be honored to be your wife. I love you so much. Thank you.” She was literally on top of the world. She would never forget this trip to London, ever.

They spent the next ten minutes calling up family and friends to tell them the good news and show off her brand new engagement ring. There were a lot of happy tears and a lot of love. Apparently everyone had been waiting for this day to come. Roman and Jimmy had merely grinned proudly, and just as Zainab suspected, they both knew that this was going down tonight, which was why they’d been so cryptic and secretive at breakfast. Jey and Zainab were so happy to have the support of both their wonderful families.

She couldn’t stop fawning over the sizable diamond glowing on her ring finger. “Baby, this rock is so big.”

“Thought you liked big things,” Jey teased with a light squeeze of her waist, flashing her a knowing wink. 

“You know first-hand that I do. Oh my god, Jey…we're getting married!”

“Mm-hmm. I’m so fuckin’ lucky, babe, you have no idea,” he gushed. He cupped the side of her face and bent down to kiss her, gently at first, then harder, leaning into her. Zainab ran her hands up the bulge of his biceps, moaning into his mouth when his tongue lashed against hers and his hand slid over her ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

“You know, proposing to you wasn’t the only thing I imagined doing in this here pod,” he said.

One look at the heat in his eyes made her understand right away. “No. You wouldn’t.”

“That a dare, baby?” He moved his mouth down to her neck, a small groan rumbling through him as he nipped and licked her skin. It served as the perfect distraction for his hands to slip under her dress and massage the round, ample globes of her backside. 

“Babe, people can see us,” Zainab gasped, but melted into his arms anyway, “We’re gonna get in trouble. There’s cameras in here-”

“Fuck the cameras,” Jey dismissed. His penetrating stare shot tremors down her spine. "Do you know how fuckin’ hot you look tonight? Do you know the nasty shit I wanna do to you right now?”

She could already tell with the bulge pressing insistently against her. But she wanted to hear him say it. She couldn't quite think straight anyway. She wouldn't have been able to stop him if her life had depended on it. "Tell me, Daddy," she moaned.

"You drive me crazy when you dress up like this, baby, all sexy and provocative and shit…I seen dem thirsty ass motherfuckers at dinner, starin’ at you, wishing you were theirs...I wanted to bend your fine ass over our table and give you this dick in front of everybody. Let ‘em all know you mine."

“I will always be yours,” she whispered. "Always."

He walked her back to the bench, sitting down and pulling her to sit on him. As always, she fit perfectly on his lap, her ass resting between his muscular thighs. They hugged and kissed, his eager hands all over her body while she rocked back and forth against his hard erection. He took his time maneuvering her dress up to her waist, caressing her thighs the whole way and amplifying her already rabid need for him to be inside her. His fingers dipped beneath the lace edge of her panties, finding her wet and ready for him. He teased gently, lightly stroking her pussy lips, causing her to moan into his mouth. He knew just how to touch her, knew exactly how to make her body react to his every whim.

His hands slipped upwards to rest over her delectable bosom. “This a pretty ass bra, ma. You got it for me?”

“Yes, Daddy. You like it?” she asked. Jey answered her question by freeing her breasts from the confines like he was opening up a present. Her titties were nice and plump and made his mouth water. He eagerly took a nipple in his mouth and sucked while he massaged the other one.

“Baby…” she whimpered, hesitancy thick in her voice. 

“Z…” he growled, his lips giving her nipple a quick, audibly wet tug that momentarily short-circuited her brain, “Unless you tellin’ me to fuck you harder, ion wanna hear it.”

His mouth covered hers before she could speak again, and this time she completely surrendered to him, allowing his tongue to slide in and wrestle with hers to a no-contest. She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants to get access to him. As she pulled him out of his briefs and dragged her palm up and down the hard, smooth length of his cock, she gasped as he immediately tugged her new lace panties to the side and lowered her down onto him. The stretch was incredible, and they both moaned. She looked at her new fiancé, who sported a sexy smirk on his lips, watching her mouth fall open as she sat all the way down on his long, hard dick. They’d had sex many, many times together, but each time something new was awakened in her, even more so now as it occurred to her that anyone in the surrounding capsules could take a close look through the darkness and see what was happening. Her heart pounded in her chest in anticipation. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening, but she wasn’t going to stop it. 

She moved on top of him, moaning as his dick twitched inside her, welcomed by her warm depths. He grabbed her breasts again, kneading them expertly, which made her bite her bottom lip harder than intended. When he pinched her nipples, her back arched and her head hung back. His long fingers then met her waist as he leaned in to suckle her throat and smell her, basking in the pleasure and feral desperation in her voice. Her thighs locked around his hips, giving her a little leverage to lift herself up and down on him with ease. She was dripping but still so tight around him thanks to how endowed he was. 

“Damn, baby…keep ridin’ me like this and you gon’ be a mama in nine months,” Jey choked out, his eyes rolling back as she kept grinding herself on him, squeezing her walls snugly around his cock. “Imma give you all the babies, fuck, you feel so good…”

He already put a ring on it. Babies were the next step, surely. The thought of conceiving his child on the night of their wildest sexcapade yet, aroused her to no end. “Hmm, then breed me, Daddy,” Zainab groaned. Threading her fingers through his hair, she gave him a kiss so passionate that he moaned into her mouth, he then forced her to do the same when he smacked her ass, the sharp sting zipping down to her loins. The bench was not comfortable, but they were so into it, and the ambience was so romantic and sexy, that neither of them cared. 

“Unnnhhh god, baby,” she whined with her lips parted over his own, tasting his heavy breaths, “Shit, you feel so good inside me.”

"I can see that, you creamin’ all over me,” Jey looked down at her gyrating hips with a smirk. Her creamy mess had visibly smeared his exposed gray-colored briefs. “You love this dick, don't you, baby?" he taunted, flicking his tongue over her lips.

“Yes Daddy.”

“I know you do. Fuck me, beautiful, bounce on this dick.” His moans had dissolved to primal growls now, mingling with the soft music and the wet, slapping sounds of their lovemaking. She pushed him down flat on his back, and the surprise on his handsome features evaporated when she began riding him harder, taking his dick deeper inside her with each drop down, with each salacious roll of her backside. Her moans mingled with his groans as he started to bounce her himself, his hands clutching the meat of her hips, moving her more vigorously up and down. His pouty lips were parted and gasping in stereo with hers as he made her fuck him, that big dick meeting the sweetest of her spots. 

“Shit, Daddy, that dick in me!” she groaned. The atmosphere was so incredibly hot, she buried her face in his neck, moaning her pleasure as she felt herself start to tingle and throb. "Oh, fuck, Jey, I'm gonna come,” she breathed heavily, her voice vanishing into thin air as she bounced harder and faster on his dick, hunting down that potent high. She nearly lost her balance as it seized her, a glorious cascade of orgasm, her thighs quivering and skin humming as the explosion eviscerated her senses.

She felt him sit back upright and rise to his feet with her still in his arms, his mouth moving against hers with more purpose than usual. It wasn’t until she felt something cool and hard pressing against her bare back that she finally broke the kiss out of curiosity. Looking behind her, her heart stopped cold inside her chest.

Jey had pressed her directly against the clear glass wall of the capsule, with nothing below her but the twinkling lights of London. Zainab screamed and squirmed against his body, her head spinning with both fear and the remnants of her orgasm as she struggled to get away from the glass.

"Jesus! Fuck, Jey, what…" 

"Hey, hey, shhh," he whispered, keeping a careful hold around her trembling frame. His lips swept tenderly over her jawline as he tried to keep her calm. She was shaking, her arms and legs gripping him with the strength of a boa constrictor. "Breathe for me, Zainab. Look at me. Look at me."

She twisted her face away from the view, her pretty eyes wide and frightened. 

“I-I-I…”

“Calm down for me baby. Relax.” His mouth brushed along her throat, doing his part to quell her nerves. Her squirms subsided, but only a little. He could tell she still wanted to get away, but he kept her body firmly secured between himself and the glass. “Do you trust me?”

Right now, on the cusp of grave danger, she wasn’t so sure she did. “Yeah,” she finally ground out.

“Then you know I’ll never let anything happen to you. I gotchu.”

His kiss was gentle but insistent and full of reassurance. She felt his hand sneak along her hip, then the sharp tug of her panties pressing into her skin, and a tearing sound and the flimsy material falling away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him tuck the ruined undergarment into his back pocket. Keeping his body flush against hers, he molded her bare ass cheeks in his hands, grinding against her for a few seconds before sliding his dick back home. She clenched around his girth immediately, greedily, and Jey groaned softly as he worked himself into her with slow, winding circles that touched every single sweet spot her pussy possessed. He was a tight fit, always was. It felt so good that she couldn’t stop the moans that spilled from her lips.

“You like that, huh? Daddy’s gotchu,” he said, repeating the action again and again. He stared with wonder in his eyes at his love, the most wonderful woman in the world. “You so beautiful, baby. I love you so much.” Placing another gentle, calming kiss on her lips, he increased his pace. Zainab did what she could to block out the very real threat of the deathly drop behind her and focus on her fiancé now pounding into her. The sound of his body meeting hers was almost deafening in the exposed enclosure.

“Damn, Z, you soppin’ wet. I knew you’d like this shit. Love this pussy so much.” His expression was one of lust-filled triumph as he studied her face, the parting of her lips panting for him, goading him to angle his hips and fuck her harder and deeper, bottoming her out. “This turnin’ you on, huh, your ass and titties out, all of London watching you take my big dick…”

With another whimpering moan, her head rocked back against the glass as she felt her climax creep closer again. Her eyes fluttered shut as her nerves settled and more erogenous sensations took over. Her legs tensed around his waist as she rotated her hips in rhythm with his thrusts, each one pressing her ass deeper against the glass, making her wetter and wetter and bringing her closer to succumbing to that euphoric feeling that only her man, now her betrothed, could give her. Her breath was stolen from her as his dick continued to toy with her g-spot, his grunts and gasps warming her neck, her pussy walls quivering and rippling around his girth in reaction. “Fuck, Jey, right there…Mmm fuck, you ‘boutta make me come again!”

Holding his girl in place with his big strong hands, Jey intensified his strokes, his gruff voice grunting with the effort. "You fuckin’ right, baby, gimme that nut,” he mumbled, himself starting to unravel from the near-crippling pleasure. “Give it to me cuz it’s mine. Drain your pussy all over my dick."

Zainab hugged him even tighter, her nails digging through his shirt and into his back as her moans devolved to whimpers, and the faster he thrust into her, the further their bodies seemed to plunge from the same dizzying heights as the capsule they were in. She cried out as her release tore her apart, her walls suffocating his cock. Jey was right behind her, his guttural groan at the pulse of her throat, his dick lodged in the back of her pussy as he came just as hard for her. Desperately, she clenched around him, taking it all, milking him for everything he had as the world seemingly collapsed around them.

Seconds later, the A.I. woman’s voice popped up again to announce that the ride was descending in ten minutes. Jey leaned in for a breathless kiss as he pulled out of her and finally edged her away from the glass. She clung to him as he carried her back to the bench. He pulled wet wipes seemingly out of nowhere and cleaned her up, sharing more kisses with her while helping each other redress. 

“You good?” he asked, smoothing her hair back into place and drawing her legs onto his lap.

Zainab nodded, biting her lip as the last of her climax rippled between her squeezed thighs. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“You loved it though,” he said, his deep voice seductively low as he stroked her thigh. “Don’t lie to Daddy now. I could tell you loved every second, you got so wet for me, babe...”

There was so much amusement and cockiness and love in his eyes. All for her. “You always make me wet, Daddy,” she admitted, glancing back at the sheet of glass she’d been trapped against just moments ago. She had to give him his props for his highly unique sense of adventure. “You think we’ll still be this lit after we’re married?” she questioned.

“Ay, as long as we work on it, together, like we been doin’, and we don’t let none of that outside noise creep in…we’ll be good. That’s what I want for us, Z.”

She liked that answer a lot. It was what she wanted, too. “I made you a promise earlier that if I enjoyed myself, you can eat me when we get back. My offer still stands,” she noted, batting her long lashes at him.

Jey smiled like the cat who got the cream. Literally. Picking out a truffle from the box, he popped it into his mouth and licked up the morsel that stained his finger.

“Mmm. I bet this goes great with pussy,” he commented with a sly smirk.

Fuck. Zainab’s throat went dry and her body instantly flooded with heat, despite having been thoroughly fucked just minutes ago. “You might be right,” she uttered back.

The capsule finally came to a safe stop on the ground, bringing the ride to an end. Jey and Zainab settled for a few more chocolatey smooches as the pod's doors opened. Expecting to be confronted about their antics by someone in authority, they were relieved when no one approached. The newly-engaged couple walked out hand in hand with big dreamy smiles on their faces, eager to retreat to their far more private hotel suite to continue their raunchy celebrations.

They took the box of chocolates with them…for research purposes, of course.

THE END

---------------

I really enjoy writing soft Jey.

Please leave comments. I love comments!

Banner made by me. Jey gif by @jeysuso. Credit to owners of all the other pics and gifs.

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[lethalchiralium]

You Leave Me Wounded And Bleeding | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: the long awaited 1940s simon fic!! it’s been done for a while but i just had to tweak a lot so i’m able to write the second part :)

warnings: 1940s-Immediately after the End of WWII. 3RD PERSON - Heartbreak, mourning - let me know if I missed anything!

summary: It’s September 9th, 1945, the trains are running non-stop to bring soldiers home. Wounded, alive, and dead - families wait on the platforms, desperately awaiting the arrival of their family member. Those crowds would include you - Mrs. Simon Riley, awaiting the love of your life who has been deployed as long as the war had been waged.

REMINDER: This is a side-blog, not my main! If you have any questions, feel free to message this blog or reblog! Reblogs are always appreciated - as well as any comments, they keep me motivated to write stuff like this!

Dear Simon,

I am writing to you this in case something happens. Something I cannot think about, something that can very well happen and I don’t wish to dwell upon it. These words are the only way I can express it if I am no longer able to voice them.

There was thunderous applause in the square, surrounding the gray train station. Screaming, crying, cheering - loudness that she’s never heard before in her small town. She was one to steer clear of the loud noises, to sit away from the excitement in a small cafe or bookstore in the town square. Maybe walk around the plaza, take the time to enjoy the sun.

This September day was different - much different. The always fresh air tasted stale, the bright green trees began to grow gray. Her deep blue dress swished against her shins as she struggled through the crowds of cheering women, crying children, and proud and grieving parents. She glanced around the crowd, noticing how most of the people were draped in grays and blacks - mourning colors. She looked away from them, towards a glass encased list of names.

You’ve written me almost every week during this horrible time, about every thought and moment that caused you pain. It hurts me to know that I cannot ease your agony. It pains me that I cannot be by your side, even for a fleeting moment. You have such a kind soul, Simon Riley. I can only imagine how it will all of this affect you after the war.

A kind hand gently grabbed her wrist, the woman in deep blue jumped in her skin before turning to see a familiar face. An elderly woman she had grown to know in the past few years, a woman she often visited as the elderly woman was her neighbor. Her name was Mavis, her husband had died in the first World War and her only two daughters were nurses now. Mavis knew why she had arrived at the plaza today - she was a patient woman, a gentle voice that the woman in blue desperately needed.

“Will I see you when you arrive home tonight?” Mavis inquired, her black shawl draped over her front. She looked frail in the gray dress she wore, her feet buckled in worn gray kitten heels.

The taller woman in deep blue heels shrugged. “It depends, Mavis.” It depends if I will be coming home without him.

“He will come home to you, darling.” The old woman smiled gently, still holding onto her wrist. She gave it a squeeze, the woman in blue gave Mavis a soft smile.

“I’ve been hoping he does.”

Even long after your letters have stopped arriving, no British Army soldiers have appeared upon our doorstep yet - no telegrams have graced my fingers with your name upon them. That must mean something, right? That you are safe, breathing? For the past two and a half years, I’ve waited for your return; not to mention the three years before that. The danger is gone now, Simon, and you’re not here. They’ve been arriving by the train load for the past week, and none of the lists have your name.

Mavis had let go of Mrs. Riley’s hand and let her be, let her gaze at the large white pages with printed names in black ink. She was still too far to read any names, she still pushed though the crowd - getting closer. She watched as women in white walked away sobbing, or women in black excitedly running towards the train platform.

Fear trembled in Mrs. Riley’s blood, the purse that sat in her left hand felt too heavy, the air felt suffocating as the crowd pushed her towards the board. Today was the first day she felt like this, pain in her heart and fear in her lungs. Maybe today was the day she would see his name on the board, written with the same black ink as the rest of the soldiers coming home to Manchester. She was only behind five more people before she would be at the front of the crowd, reading quickly to find his name - maybe the names of his friends too. She’s met Soap and Gaz before, it has been a long time since she’s even seen Price. Maybe the mysterious Alejandro and Rudy will appear, even though their home is across the world - All living and breathing, she hoped.

Another step forwards, closer to the board as an older gentleman and lady both turned away from the board in tears - the young woman beside them with a teenage boy laughed with excitement. They moved away, she grew closer. She could almost read the names on the papers now.

I musn’t worry, I know you will come back to me. You have a habit of keeping promises, my love - as well as secrets.

“Move it along!” The conductor shouted as he came towards the board, shooing away more people as she quickly scanned the names now that she could read them. She started with the Gs, reading quickly.

Gardner, KIA. Garrett, Garrett, Garrett, KIA…

Garrick, Kyle. Sergeant. Gaz.

She felt hope filter into chest, at least one of them made it - she moved to the Ms.

MacDonald, KIA. MacDonald…

MacTavish, John. Sergeant.

Thank God, Soap. She remembered to breathe then, hurriedly going to the Ps as she noticed that the list was much shorter than yesterday. She didn’t dare dwell on it.

Powell, KIA. Powell. Price, Price, KIA…

Price, John. Captain.

Another step forwards, two more people had gone and now she only had the elderly couple ahead of her. They had worn white as a symbol of hope, as have many of the other families awaiting their turn to read the list. She read the Rs, her heart beating out of her chest like a train engine.

I’ve heard stories from wives, whispers among the streets about some soldiers coming home and no longer being themselves. They’re hollow, lifeless - I’ve seen a few myself. It is like the undead have invaded Manchester, they walk about with no emotion in their eye, no care for their family as they walk beside them. I’ve watched them from our bookstore, watching as their small children tug on their father’s hands and he vaguely responds with a lifeless smile, sending them away from himself. Their wives do not give away any note of worry, perfect smiles and small touches to their husbands as if to comfort them in a small way. It’s not hard to recognize the wife’s pain, it’s a pain I hope I will never know.

Radley. KIA. Raines. KIA. Redgrave. Ridley. Ridley. Rigley. KIA. Rivers. KIA. Robbins. KIA.

I’m scared, Simon.

A rougher hand grabbed her arm then, she didn’t look away. She kept rereading the list. Today is the last day for arrivals, she knew that. She has known that for the past week. Where was his name? Where was Lieutenant Simon Riley?

“Mrs. Riley,” A soft voice came from the person pulling her away, she kept staring at the board as it grew smaller. She almost stumbled, tripping over herself before she turned to look at the man who knew her.

Gaz.

“Are you alright?” She asked the man in pea green, he looked bewildered. They were now just outside of the crowd, he rolled his shoulders. “You aren’t harmed?”

“Mrs. Riley, there is no need for you to worry about me.” Gaz placed a hand on the strap of his dufflebag that was across his chest, he had a concerned look on his face. “Have you seen Soap? He had gotten off of the train with me, I’ve been looking for Price-“

Her hand gently pushed Gaz backwards, away from the crowd. The soldier had let her, her hand left his arm as she led him towards a bench. She sat down, smoothing out her dress and crossing her ankles. Her dark shoes were sort of scuffed, she stared at it for a moment before looking back up at her husband’s friend. He looked upon the train station, seeing the crowd began to dissipate slowly.

“Mr. Garrick,” She whispered, hoping he would hear her just like Simon would. But he just kept watching, waiting. “Gaz.”

Gaz turned his head to look at her, his face solemn. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Please, just call me by my name.” She answered, she then patted the bench. “Sit with me.” The wind picked up then, rippling through her straightened and victory rolled hair - the common style that she hated. Her normal hair was beautiful - is what Simon would always say, gently pet it against her head. If she wished hard enough, she could feel his hand touch her cheek. She closed her eyes then, letting the wind breeze her face without the malice of a dull world.

“I haven’t-“

“Is there someone waiting for you, Mr. Garrick?”

Terrified, really. What if you do not step off that train tomorrow? What will I do if I must return home in silence, no longer in your grasp? No longer sleep without the knowledge that you’ll be coming home?

Her eyes fluttered open as the gentleman sat on the bench, a couple of feet away. He didn’t even look at her, his eyes staring at the station. “No, ma’am.”

“I see.” She answered. “You are welcome in my home, just until you’re able to get on your feet.” She looked towards the train station again, her hands sat like stone in her lap, her purse against her shoes. “The invitation is extended to Mr. MacTavish, Mr. Parra and Mr. Price as well, should you see them - even Mr. Vargas if he makes his presence known.”

“Are you leaving?” Gaz asked and the woman didn’t offer an answer, only silence as she watched families in black walk with either their loved one in their arms or a folded flag. She didn’t know what he was asking - was she leaving the plaza or was she leaving Manchester?

“I’m not sure.” She commented to the air, recounting the past week and knowing that Gaz could hear her. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve had company in my home.” She patted her dress again when she changed the subject, a nervous habit. “Many of my own friends in Poland and the Netherlands have perished.” She brushed off invisible dust from her lap, smiling sadly. “I’m afraid I no longer have any friends.”

“Mrs. Riley, you’re my friend.” Gaz commented, looking at her as she still stared at the train station. “Ghost has done all of us well, told us many times that you are a person with a kind heart. I’m very glad you decided not to just ignore me earlier.” He sort of chuckled, then continued. “Look, Mrs. Riley, I haven’t seen Ghost since March. I was moved to a different unit, he was upset with me when I left. Not sure if he’d want to see me-“

“Mrs. Riley!” Came a loud Scottish boom, Gaz’s head swiveled towards the train station as she stood, she would have smiled but the information Gaz gave her sent an arrow into her heart. The Scot slid his bag across the pavement to Gaz before wrapping the woman in a tight embrace, rocking her side to side as he chirped, “Oh, lass, how I have missed you so!” He kissed her cheek, his smile as wide as the moon. “You won’t believe what they’ve fed me!”

Well, I suppose I haven’t had that knowledge since February, but it still feels crushing to say. What will I do if you return to me and you are no longer yourself? I know war must change a man but I’m not sure how I will live if I never see your smile again.

“Soap, you’ll squeeze the poor woman to death.” Gaz’s hand grabbed Soap’s shoulder and the Scot let go of her, his hands held onto her shoulders.

“How are you, bonnie? Still workin’ at that measly book store?” Soap looked like he had not slept in weeks, the poor thing.

She shrugged. “Yes.“

“Gaz, lad, how’re you?” Soap then turned away from her, almost strangling Gaz when he hugged him. Soap then began to babble on to him, while she watched the train station again, seeing how it was now becoming less crowded, yet…

There was a man with a boonie hat on, walking towards them with just a small bag. And it felt like someone had grabbed a hold of her ankle and pulled her underwater, she couldn’t scream, cry- Breathe. Just breathe.

She felt something in her heart then, but it wasn’t confirmation. No, she wouldn’t get confirmation until her fingers brushed his dog tag - the only one she would receive from the British Army would be the red one, the hardened rubber imprinted with his identification number, religion, his first initial and Riley.

“Mr. Price.” Her voice was a whisper, the gentleman raised his head to look at her.

What will I do if you do not return? Will I become like the hundreds of widowed wives, crying forever and waiting for their husband’s remains to return home? Will I be able to go to the plaza everyday, knowing that you’ve touched this place before? Will I be able to stay in our home that you’ve put sweat and blood into, just for us? I can’t think anymore of it.

“Mr. Price, please.” She walked towards him, her steps uneasy. She could feel her heart in her throat as it constricted, the air becoming sour as he came closer. The world began to lose her focus, her hands at her side. The man finally stopped, a few feet from her.

He took off his hat and held out his hand.

“Mrs. Riley.”

Her right hand trembled when she held it up, taking his hand and he shook it.

“Please.” Her request made Soap and Gaz go quiet, she placed her left hand upon Price’s. The Captain merely stared at her. “You have to know something about Simon.”

Price merely whispered your name. “You haven’t seen his name on the boards?”

All color drained from Price’s face, and Soap’s hand touched her shoulder. She looked up to Soap, his friendly excitement was now gone. “He isn’t here?”

I don’t think I could ever understand it, that I would ever want to. We’ve talked about it, but it still doesn’t make the ache in my soul any lighter. I cannot think of you anymore, it feels like my heart is playing a melancholy tune on a piano well beyond its years; playing a song I never knew it had memorized. And it’s like my fingers are stuck to the keys, dancing ever so slowly as if the crescendo in the sheet music keeps darting away. The climax of our story hasn’t even crossed the page yet; I keep playing this haunted tune and I don’t want to anymore.

“Y/N, what do you mean he’s not here?”

I want to rip my fingers from the keys and push myself away from the piano. But I only play this tune as I wait for you, only when you’re away from me. What will I do if this will be the only song I can play for the rest of my life?

Her knees went weak then, she almost collapsed if it wasn’t for Soap grabbing her, quickly placing her on the bench before kneeling in front of her. Price did the same, both men held one of her hands.

“No list has had Ghost on it? At all?” Price questioned, tears didn’t even dare reach her eyes. All she could do was stare at the train station, seeing how the train had gone - only a handful of people remained. She could count on both her hands how many people stayed behind, looking like lost souls, wandering.

Soap’s voice wavered when he spoke your name, “Lass, please answer him,” he squeezed her hand, her eyes looked to his before flickering back to Price.

She took a breath in, trying to calm herself but it was a futile attempt. “No, no.” She took another breath, shuddering. She closed her eyes and her head moved down to face her lap. “I…He has to be here, you have to know something.”

“The last time I saw the LT, shite, would’ve been the start of August. We were headin’ back from Hong Kong.” Soap muttered, his hand still firmly squeezing hers. “He was fine. He was with Alejandro, they were heading back, weren’t they?”

Price hummed in agreement. “Maybe he gave his seat up, maybe he escorted Alejandro to London. It’s okay, we’ll figure it out.” The Captain looked to Soap. “Go check the boards again, maybe they’ve put up the MIA list.”

Soap gave her hand another squeeze before he leapt to his feet, speed walking towards the station while Gaz took his place; Gaz’s hand had a softer grip, much more comforting.

“Mrs. Riley, it will be okay.” Gaz’s voice was soft now, Price was looking over his shoulder. “He’ll be here.”

My mother sent for me. This morning, actually. I was sitting in the study, going through the mail. My father is dying back home in America, and I must go. But I feel that I cannot leave here without knowing. I cannot leave our home without knowing if I get to kiss you or kiss the stone that will lay above your head.

“We should take her home,” Gaz commented to Price, she couldn’t even feel her hands then, her husband’s friends holding her hands tightly. “She needs to go home, Price.”

“Wait.” Price murmured, still watching Soap. She didn’t dare look now, her gaze moved away and to the right. The trees danced with the gentle breeze, leaves twisting and turning on their branches. The lights of the cafe had now burned out, the post office dim too - it seemed everyone had decided to abandon their work today. It made sense.

All she wanted to do now was sit in the bookstore, reading one of those romance books that Simon finds silly in the little reading nook she loved. He’d tell her that reading about romance is not the way to find someone, that all of the romance she’d need would come from him. What a way to woo a woman, she had said. He had smiled.

I’ve wondered what it would be like for you if I leave for America this very moment. You place your key into the lock, twisting it and opening up the front door. The house would be dark, no warmth from the fireplace, nothing to signal that I would be home. Maybe you would think I abandoned you, maybe you would think I had perished. But, I know you. There will be no need to worry, Simon.

“Soap,” Price called, her eyes didn’t move from the bookstore, its lights still on and bright. It was almost like she could see Simon sitting on the window seat across from her, reading A Farewell To Arms by Ernest Hemingway while she read Gone With The Wind by Margaret Mitchell - stealing glances from each other often. They were young then, he was 21 while she was 18, almost 19.

It was their first date. Sitting in the bookstore, stealing glances and being near each other. He had asked her what she was doing here in Manchester, noticing her American accent. She said, “I’m visiting my friends, I’m staying with an aunt.”

Simon sat up, closing his book before looking at her. “And you’re sat here, in a bookstore?”

“You have a much different and bigger selection than home,” She answered, a smile danced on her lips. “But I still love reading my favorite book.” She closed her own book, swinging her legs over the side of the bench, letting her shoes touch the ground. “Say, do you know any good romance books?”

That was the first time she had heard him truly laugh.

I’ve waited so long for you. So long for our life to grow, to spend more than a fleeting moment behind a bookshelf like we did when we were young. I’ve sat in every room of our home, praying and wishing for your safe return. I’ve hoped and wished so hard that I feel that the universe no longer hears me. Oh Simon, I’ve waited centuries in the collective almost six years you have been gone from my side. I’m not sure if I can wait any longer.

She didn’t even hear Soap’s answer. She didn’t even care that Price had pulled her to her feet, asking Soap where she lived. She mindlessly walked beside the soldiers, her ears began to ring.

The sky was gray, whistles of rain fell from it and kissed their heads. She would have normally been walking faster to avoid the rain, her hair taking almost an hour to put up but it felt like her soul had fell free from her chest. It was thrown away on the side of the street, discarded until she decides to find it again.

She was sure she wouldn’t.

The breeze felt bitter now, it was no longer her friend that ebbed by through her hair. It was a dangerous being, whispering in her ear taunts of loneliness, even though her friends walked beside her. Her arms were around both Gaz and Price’s, her hands gently rested on their forearms as they continued through the Manchester streets.

The ring felt heavy now. It felt like someone was pulling on her hand, trying to tear her ring off of her skin; like something was trying to burn it off. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t take it off. It was the only part she had connected to him.

When they finally arrived at her home, she blinked. She refocused her eyes, staring at the black door that seemed to mock her now. Soap fished the key from her purse, opening it - the soldiers pulled her into the house, her dark shoes scraped against the floor, scuffing them. They walked into the living room, gently settling her onto her couch. Their arms left her then, all of the soldiers kneeled before her.

And all she could do was blink, feeling tears burn her cheeks. And none of the men there dared to touch her now, Price’s eyes stayed on hers as Gaz and Soap looked at each other.

“Did you hear him?” Price’s voice was much softer than it was before, kinder - patient. “Did you hear John?”

She shook her head, letting the razor sharp tears slice down her face.

Price held out his hands, to which both of hers settled in. He clutched them gently, as if she was made of porcelain.

“Simon Riley is missing in action.”

I will love you forever. Even if you have left this precious Earth, even if your feet still tread upon it. But I can’t wait for a ghost when I have been waiting for my husband almost our entire marriage. My father is stable enough, they believe. He has two months to live. And because I love you, Simon, I will wait exactly one month after the last train arrives in Manchester with a list of soldiers.

Her tears fell against her dress, louder than anything else in the room. Her hands shook in front of her, she clenched them before she looked up at her husband’s friends.

And if you arrive when I have gone, I am sorry. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come back to our home empty handed, even if you are there - because you always leave. You always leave and I have always needed you, Simon. Always. You have hurt me in unimaginable ways, my love, even if you always find your way back home to me. So, just this once - I will be the one leaving. I can’t come back. I won’t come back. I won’t come back to a house that is no longer ours. I will not come back to a house that is just mine.

“Please don’t let me be alone.”

I love you, Simon Riley. Don’t ever forget it.

Forever yours,

Y/N.

—

𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡! 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢!

———

Copyright © 2022 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[shadowsandsunset]

The BuckTommy OF!Buck fic (with eventual BuckTommyEddie)

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE (You Are Here)

PART FOUR (Had to split part three, it got too long, posting soon)

notes: No smut, but 18+ to be safe.

Eddie figures himself out. Buck, Tommy, and Eddie talk.

Tommy remains amazing, Eddie falls in love. <3

3000-ish words. Ooops.

I should also find a title for this eventually, for when I post on AO3.

From this post here.

Weeks go by before Eddie feels ready to talk to Buck.

He's been reading about compulsory heterosexuality, polyamory and queer platonic relationships; he's been watching queer media and movies; he's been exploring himself, his body, in a new context.

He talked to Hen and Karen and they pointed him in the right directions: queer bookstores and gay bars and how to find the information he needs to let him get a new feel for how he fits in the world.

So, he's ready. Or, well, he's as ready as he can possibly be and too impatient to wait longer.

So, he has to face things. Face Buck. Face his desperate horniness for his best friend and his best friend's boyfriend. Face the fact that he's in love with Buck. Face the fact that he could see himself falling for Tommy, too. To be with both of them, not a love triangle but a love circle, a hand reaching for each of them, a completed circuit.

Does he know that they'll be into it? No. Is it moving too fast? Absolutely. Is he even out to anyone but Hen and Karen? Nope. Is he slowly going insane? You know it.

But in his head and in his heart, he knows what he wants: a king size bed, a walk in closet, two of the best men he knows to raise his son with him, a house full of love and nights full of the kind of things he can't speak about without blushing.

He's watched so much gay porn these past weeks to get a grip on what he likes, what he doesn't like, and what he would like to do to another and what he would like done to him. The first time he came from having his own fingers inside of his ass? Revolutionary. He doesn't have a preference, top or bottom, or, ideally, both. Oh yeah, he's imagined being inside of Buck as Tommy is moving inside him, using him, to fuck both of them. When he came imagining that scenario he thought he was going to pass out, his heart beating so fast.

So now all he has to do is talk to Buck and Tommy. Buck first, then the both of them together.

He's standing outside of Buck's apartment building and getting ready to go up. He's terrified. The ways in which this can go wrong are innumerable. But, they've been through worse together. They'll talk it through. Buck won't hate him for this, he just has to remind himself of that.

Really? That's the best he's got at the moment outside of just info-dumping everything he's read about?

But what does he say?

"Hey I accidentally saw your porn and it made me rethink my entire life and sexuality?"

He's nervous, he's scared, he's absolutely getting ready to turn around and run when he sees Tommy approaching.

"Hey man, didn't know you were hanging out tonight." Tommy motions at the building in front of them.

Eddie just nods, "Yeah, uh, he doesn't know I'm here, actually, and I…fuck."

Tommy peers at him, eyes taking in how nervous Eddie is, the fidgeting and sweat pooling at his hairline.

"Everything ok, Eddie?" Tommy puts a hand on his shoulder, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Eddie freezes when Tommy's hand makes contact with his shoulder, his skin heating up at the touch, but then he feels himself relaxing.

Maybe it would be better for him to talk to Tommy first, another gay man, who might understand what he's going through.

He won't mention that he wants to fuck them, Buck and Tommy, he'll just talk about what he has discovered, yeah, that'll work.

And then he can talk to Buck when he's a little calmer.

He turns to Tommy, "Yeah, I think I do. Want to talk about it. But you're here to see Buck and I don't want to keep you."

Tommy smiles, "I'm actually early, so he's not expecting me yet if you want to talk." He motions to his truck, "We can sit down for a bit, if you want."

Eddie agrees and climbs into Tommy's truck, as Tommy climbs in and turns it just so the A/C is running and music plays softly over the radio.

"So, are you ok?" Tommy asks, gentle and quiet.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm ok, Chris is ok, nothing like that. It's just…"

Eddie twists his hands together, squeezing his finger in a little pinch, just to ground him.

"So…a while back I, uh, I realized something. Something about myself. Something I wasn't ever able to realize before, growing up in Texas and being…well, married young, had a kid young, joined the army… It was just…" He trails off, looking out the window.

"Ah," Tommy breathes out, "I see. And when did you realize…that you're?" Tommy leaves the end of his sentence as a question, let's Eddie fill in the blanks.

"That I'm. That I'm gay? Weeks ago. Almost two months now. I, uh, went to Hen, and Karen, and they were really great about it, taught me things, places to go to learn, and I guess…" Eddie takes a deep breath, holds it for a second, "I guess the way I grew up, it was be straight or bust. It was the only option. I remember being like, younger than Chris is, and the things people would say, not just about queer men, but about masculinity and the expectations of it, the 'right way' to be a man. And I just… didn't let myself think about it. I did what was expected."

Tommy nods, "I was at the 118 under Gerrard. He was not an accepting man, and I knew, I realized about myself, but it wasn't allowed, and it wasn't until Hen came and shook us all up that I had any hope of it ever being different. So it seems we both owe Hen a giant fruit basket." Tommy winks at the last, and Eddie bursts into jovial titters, relief that somebody else gets it.

Eddie giggles trail off. "It's ok, right? I'll be ok?"

"Yeah, you'll be fine, better than fine. Because you already have people who love you and will accept you. And I'm here for you, too."

Eddie releases the breath he feels like he's been holding his whole life.

"There's something else, and I, I'm not sure I should even mention it. The thing that made me realize and rethink and all that?" He looks at Tommy in the eyes, "I saw a video on a porn site."

He stops, looks away, looks out the window, everywhere but at Tommy's patient, lovely face.

"It was from OnlyFans. It was you and Buck. I didn't know that Buck had one. He's so open with so much and closed about other things, and I don't know why I watched it, I just recognized him, his back, his scars, you know? And I clicked on it and I watched it and," he curses low under his breath and looks at Tommy again, "I've never come harder in my life."

Tommy's eyebrows are raised in surprise, his mouth is open in a little gasp, and Eddie feels himself burning in shame. He can't help it. It's awkward.

Tommy, whose brain seems to kickstart back into gear, laughs lightly.

"When we first became friends, before I got with Evan, I thought you two were together. You were so close, you know? But now, Eddie, I've been a part of both of your sexuality awakenings and I have to admit it's a good little ego boost."

Eddie smiles at Tommy, "You're incredibly attractive, Tommy. You have to know that, right?"

Tommy smiles back, ever gentle, "Thank you. But, uh, I'm with Evan. And I don't cheat, especially not with my partner's best friend. And I don't think you're that type of guy, either."

Eddie feels something warm in his chest, a small bit like what he feels for Buck, a candle flame versus an inferno. Oh, he could love this man.

"No, I'm not. And I didn't mean to imply that, anyway." He gathers his inner strength, "But have you heard of, uh, polyamory?"

Tommy blinks, "Polyamory. The three of us? Or open? Because…Eddie, I like you, but I don't want an open relationship, not with anyone, but especially not with Evan. I love him."

Eddie shakes his head, "Not open. Just…I've been imagining it for weeks. I love Buck, I'm jealous of you, truly, and I wish I had got my head out of my ass sooner. But I love him, am in love with him, and have been for way longer than I realized, if I look back on things. But Tommy, you're also a wonderful person, and I can absolutely see myself falling for you, in addition, not in replacement of Buck."

"I don't know, Eddie. I have no idea if this would work, or if Evan would even be willing. Am I attracted to you? Well, I have eyes, so yes. But… Maybe you should talk to Evan. Or maybe I should. I don't know."

Eddie places his hand over Tommy's bigger one, "I'm not going to try and steal him from you. I love him, yeah, and it'll suck to see him with somebody else, but I am not a homewrecker. I want you both. I've spent a lot of time fantasizing about it, actually. This is something I've thought through, and I know that this is a sudden and unexpected thing, and maybe I'm just in my head, which is why I didn't bring it up until now. Now, I'm sure. And maybe you and Buck aren't interested, but, I really think this could be amazing."

Tommy sits quietly for a few moments but doesn't pull his hand away from Eddie's. He glances at the time on the radio. "You should come up with me, I believe you when you say you won't try to steal him, but I know he loves you, Eddie. You won't have to try."

Tommy looks sad, resigned, like he knows the outcome. Eddie feels his heart break, he already knows how that feels. He won't let them lose this man, not if he can help it.

"He loves you, Tommy. I'm not going to make his decisions for him, but I'm not willing to cast you aside either; not now, not ever. Cause yeah, I love Buck. But I'm pretty sure I'm already halfway in love with you, and I know you don't trust that yet, but I'll show you, if you and Buck will give me a chance."

Tommy turns off the ignition off and climbs out of the truck, Eddie following after.

They make their way upstairs and into Buck's apartment, Buck greeting them warmly but seeming to pick up on the tension.

"So, uh, what's up?" Buck scratches the back of his neck, confused and wary.

Tommy nods at Eddie, giving him the floor. Fuck. Fuck, ok. Go time.

Eddie takes in a deep breath, releases it. This is it. This is where his best friend either breaks his heart or gets awkward or Tommy ends up being right and that doesn't sit well with Eddie at all.

So he goes for it.

"Sit down, Buck. I think you need to be sitting down."

Tommy is leaning against the wall, looking nervous and ready to bolt, like his heart is already broken. Fuck, that's not what Eddie wants. He has to do this right, put his years of therapy to good use.

Buck sits. Eddie stays standing, paces a bit but doesn't take his eyes off either of the other men.

"So. Uh. A couple of months ago, I watched something. Something I should have never seen."

Buck seems to understand, going pale, stuttering out a disbelieving "what?"

Eddie continues, "I'm glad I did see it. It put things in perspective for me," he makes air quotes, "brought forth the real me".

He stops pacing, settling down next to Buck. "I recognized you, I'll always recognize you, your scars and freckles and skin. I know you probably thought no one would, but I could recognize you in the dark, underwater, anywhere. I'm sorry, that you probably didn't want me to see that."

Buck seems to be close to breaking down, breath heaving, eyes looking for Tommy who nods back at him to keep listening to Eddie.

Eddie takes Buck's hand in his, comforting as he can, and continues.

"I realized I'm gay because of that video. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, I know that we don't keep things from each other but I was struggling to understand how I could go so long without realizing. But I wanted to tell you, tell you everything."

Buck snaps his head to look at Eddie, "You're gay?"

"I'm gay. I can explain about compulsory heterosexuality and the way I grew up, later, but I needed to tell you."

"Why do I feel like I am still missing something?"

Eddie looks at Tommy, motions for him to take a seat on Buck's other side and then waits for him to do so.

"Buck. Buck, you're my best friend, my kid's other Dad. I love you." Buck looks at Tommy, Tommy looks at Eddie, Eddie looks at both of them: Tommy tucked up behind Buck's back, protective, Buck leaning on Tommy but reaching out for Eddie's hand.

Eddie takes a few quick shallow breaths, and then starts again.

"I love you. And you are one of the most important people in my life and I am terrified of losing you. I know you love Tommy, and that's wonderful, Buck, I'm so happy for you both. I love you, and I'm in love with you," he hears Buck's breath stutter, but he continues, "I'm in love with you, and Tommy is someone who is so amazing, and I think I'm falling for him too, for all the same reasons you did."

"What the fuck."

Buck pulls his hand out of Eddie's, Eddie feels his heart shatter. Oh no.

Buck stutters, "You, you what? You realize you're gay and then you tell me you're in love with me AND my boyfriend, and what? I'm supposed to choose? You or him? That's fucked up. And you think you're falling for him? So what? Are we all just supposed to date each other?"

Eddie interrupts before Buck can spiral further, "Yeah, ideally. If you want that, and if Tommy wants that. Because that's what I want."

Buck stops, looks at Tommy, looks back at Eddie. He stands, pulls Tommy up with him, then points at Eddie.

"Stay here."

Tommy and Buck go into the bedroom and Eddie can hear their voices but not make out words. He can't help but think that he's ruined everything.

They're gone for what feels like hours but is only about twenty minutes. Buck's eyes are wet and shiny, but his cheeks are dry, if red. Tommy is following Buck, quiet but looking steady.

Buck approaches, sits back down, Tommy standing behind him, supportive and protective, and Eddie can't help but appreciate the strength of Tommy, not just the physical, but his emotional and mental. These men. These men are something truly special.

Buck begins speaking, "Ok," he takes a shaky breath, "Tommy and I think it's best if we approach this like any relationship, even if we already know each other, we should, uh, date. We should learn how this'll work, if it'll work, and take it slow, or, as slow as feels right."

Tommy nods, "Evan and I didn't jump into things either, for what it's worth. And I know this is new for you, and I don't want to rush this and things go south." He shrugs, "But we agreed to give it a shot."

Eddie feels something inside of him relax. "So, I didn't ruin everything?" Fuck, that's not what he meant to say.

Buck's expression goes tragic for a second before reaching to pull Eddie into a hug, "Eddie, no. Even if this doesn't work out, you're always going to be my family, you and Chris. It just might be awkward for a bit but we've been through too much for anything to ever get between us." Buck grins, playfully, "Except for Tommy, sometimes, I mean, we'll have to take turns being in the middle, right?"

Eddie and Tommy both laugh, relieved.

"Right." They agree in unison.

They sit and talk for a while, joking and smiling, flirty comments and all.

Before Eddie heads home for the night he stops, turning to the two men.

"I know we said we'd take it slow, but I, I haven't kissed a man before and I really want to kiss you, both of you…if that's ok?"

Buck and Tommy share a look then nod. Buck takes Eddie's face in his rough, warm palms and kisses Eddie gently, sweetly. Eddie feels like he has honey in his veins, warm and syrupy. He relaxed into the kiss, it feels good, so incredibly good, great, spectacular. It's a simple kiss, no tongue, but it's confirmation of what he knows to be true.

Buck pulls away and Eddie is slow to open his eyes, overwhelmed with gratitude and affection.

"Wow." He takes a breath, "Yeah, ok, damn."

Tommy smiles at him, "I had the pleasure of being Evan's first kiss with a guy, I thought he would like to be yours."

Buck nods, "Absolutely."

Tommy pulls Buck into a hug with one arm and Eddie with the other, and they wrap around each other, and it feels right, it feels like he is where he belongs and Eddie could cry, if Tommy didn't tilt his face up to kiss him.

Where Buck's kiss was soft, almost chaste, Tommy kisses him with a bit more pressure, and it's wonderful. Eddie isn't a small guy by any means but being held by these two men makes him feel small, but not in a bad way, more like being cherished.

Tommy pulls back, kisses Buck on the temple. Eddie feels his heart pounding.

"Thank you." Eddie says, voice wavering with emotion.

They make plans for their first date together, and Eddie wants to take flight, soar through the sky on wings he doesn't have, he's so happy.

[junglemax]

this is set in the 90s. i was very much so not alive in the 90s. we’re bullshitting our way through this one, folks (also this is for an au I wanted to write but now will probably not get to, so instead I will maybe give you one or two more fics related to it and that will be that)

darby accidentally finds a gift for hook.

[fic]

“I don’t understand why I had to come with you,” Anthony groans. “I have better things to do than to look for toys for your little brother.”

“I was not walking to this store myself,” Darby says, picking through the action figures. “Besides, you love spending time with me.”

“Not when I’m spending the time at a damn Toy’s R Us,” Anthony whispers angrily.

Darby rolls his eyes. “Shut up, you big baby.” He passes by some Barbie dolls, then stops and steps back. He picks one up and inspects it. “Anthony, come here for a second.”

“What? What is it?”

“Take a look at this Ken doll and tell me you see what I see.”

Anthony takes it from Darby. “Earring Magic Ken? What about it-“ Anthony stops, and then gasps. “No. They did not just make a gay Ken doll.”

Darby grins and bites his tongue, nodding. He grabs another one. “I’m getting both.”

“Why do you need two?”

“One for me, obviously,” Darby says, “and one for you know who.”

Anthony raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re giving him one?”

“What? It’s cute. It’ll remind him of me, and we’ll both have one.”

“You don’t think anyone’s gonna question him having a Barbie doll?”

“It won’t upset me if he shoves it into his closet,” Darby shrugs. “Just as long as he gets it.”

“Alright, whatever then,” Anthony sighs. “Two Ken dolls it is. You still gotta find something for your brother.”

“Should I just say fuck it and get him a game system?”

“Probably.”

~

Darby picks up his landline phone and dials the number he still has in his notebook. It rings once, twice, and then someone picks up.

“Hello?” A woman, presumably Hook’s mother, answers.

“Hi, this is one of uh- Hook’s buddies from college? I was in town and wanted to know if he wanted to hang out.”

“Oh! I’ll go get him,” she says.

Darby can hear her call him, and then he hears the phone get passed over.

“Yo.”

“Hi, Hook.”

“Darby? What the fu-“ Hook stops, then drops to a whisper. “What the hell are you doing calling my house?”

“You didn’t answer at your dorm,” Darby shrugs. “Figured you had to be home.”

“And the first thing you do is lie to my mom. Cool.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, should I have told her how we really know each other? That you fuck my brains out every other week-“

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Hook groans. “What do you want?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? For what?”

“Just saw it and thought of you.”

“…Okay?”

“When do you get back?”

“I’m leaving tonight. I can stop by your place before I go back to the dorm.”

“Perfect. See you then, babydoll.”

“Don’t call me that.” Hook ends the call.

~

Darby hears the front door unlock and he slides out to the living room.

“Hey,” Hook greets, shutting the door behind him quickly.

Darby finishes closing the space between them and wraps his arms around Hook’s shoulders, placing a kiss on his lips. “Hey.”

“What’s this surprise you have for me?” Hook asks, placing his hands on Darby’s hips.

“Oh! Come on. It’s in my room.” Darby slips out of his grasp and jogs to his room.

He pulls it out of his closet and hands it to Hook when Hook ends at the doorway. “Here.”

Hook takes it and looks at it before looking at Darby, confused. “A Ken doll?”

“Look at the necklace.”

Hook does. “Oh, hey, it looks like yours,” he chuckles. “Cute.”

“So whenever you’re away or whatever, you can just look at him and think of me,” Darby says nonchalantly. “Or just shove him up in a closet, I don’t care.”

Hook laughs and smiles softly. “I’ll find somewhere for it,” he says, tossing it between his hands. “Thanks.”

[someonesmoth]

Hiiii!!

Saw your moon knight fics and they’re amazing!! 🥹

Could you do a hurt/comfort about the boys? (Steven & Co, maybe even platonic “I’m not actually worried I just decided to take care of you cus whatever” Khonshu)

I’m thinking smth about the reader coming home from a stressful work day haha. I work 7am to 4:30 pm with like 30-40 1st graders (sometimes other grades but mostly them) so I’ve been pretty busy.

(The reader def don’t have to work in a school environment tho)

Totally get it if you’re busy and/or can’t.

Have a great day/night! 😊😊

Hey!! Waaa I’m glad you enjoyed my writing! It makes me super happy to hear that <3

Sorry for the wait and sorry if it’s a bit short, but here it is^^

Comfort after a long day at work

Marc Spector:

- he was probably figuring out his next move for his moon knight activities when you came through the door of his apartment

- those tired eyes of yours and the way you tried to suppress your yawns concerned him.

- Marc walks towards you and puts both his hands on your shoulders, “how was work today?”

- you started to give a brief synopsis into your day, making it insanely obvious today was too much for you

- he nods in understanding as he hears you, a small smile laying on his face while he runs his hands on your shoulders in comfort

- “I get it sweetheart, I have alot of those too…” reminds me of his painstakingly tiring missions.

- he left a small kiss on your forehead, “I’ll make you food tonight, you should go lay in bed for a bit.” You couldn’t even protest, you were too tired

- he held your hand to lead the way, softly laying you down, he was planning on taking care of you until you fell asleep.

- you felt a bit guilty, watching him turn on the stove.

- he looks back at you with a charming smile, “i promise I won’t burn it.”

Steven Grant

- oh my, right when you walked through the door with dragging footsteps, he went to you in a hurry

- “you’re finally back!” He grins, cue you softly leaning your body against him

- he hugs you gently, rubbing your back soothingly, “oh darling, work was rough today it seems?” You nod

- steven then pulls you back, grabbing your hand and sits you on your shared bed

- “do you want to talk about it while I make some tea? Or would you like coffee?” You say whichever of those two options and nod at the idea of talking

- he seemed happy to have you home, you work too hard sometimes and he would love for you to take a break. He’s glad he’s able to hear your worries and doubts.

- steven stands up and heads to the kitchen, “now, what has you so worn down, love?” He has a small gentle smile on his face as you start talking

Jake Lockley:

- Jake hums as you appear opening the door

-he hugs you in a firm embrace, before backing away and noticing how tired you look, “well, aren’t you a bit too happy?” He sarcastically said, a smirk lingering on his lips

- you huff, hitting him softly on the back, he lets out a small laugh, “ay mi amor, do you want me to make you something to eat?” You nod, letting go of his embrace and kissing him on the cheek without saying anything

- he rolls his eyes, “I’ll make you your favorite, so don’t be a baby.” “Jake, just cook and don’t burn the house down—“ “you know I cook the best meals in this universe, stop complaining and tell me why you came back so grumpy. Who do I have to kill-“

- you raise an eyebrow and laugh, “Jake, I’m fine really…just lots of work.” He hums in response, he is happy to hear what happened during the day, he tries to keep up with you.

“If I were you, I’d point a gun at your boss and I’d tell him to give you a break, si?” “No-“ half of the things he says are sarcastic…but you never know.

Khonshu:

- He was planning on just talking to his avatar briefly, maybe even scold him—

- he saw you walk into the room with tired movements, he stared at you with an invisible raised eyebrow

- “you look like you have been run over by a vehicle-“ you huff, rolling your eyes.

- you put your things on the floor, not minding that they were in the way, “if you came here to bother me, go away big bird.” You said, passing by him.

- he stands and stares at you, he felt a bit awkward with his tall frame standing in the small room.

- “staring into my head isn’t going to get you anywhere, khonshu.” You give him a side eye as you go to the kitchen to get a glass of water

- he softly taps his spear on the floor, carefully choosing his words to speak and not sound like a worried dad

- “I was just looking for my avatar. Have you seen Marc today?” You shook your head, “been working all day.” That’s evident by the eyebags and how messy your hair is.

- “have you gotten any sleep?” You again shook your head, “don’t have time for that.” Khonshu tilts his head a bit, “why don’t you rest now? You have come home from your duties.” “Gotta work on report cards, khonshu.” He had no idea what report cards were, he audibly sighs

- he walks closer to you, “take a break, y/n. It won’t hurt.” “If I don’t get it done-“ “your work can be done tomorrow, it is best for you to be wide awake when working so you give it your best.” You look up at khonshu, thinking he was right

- “…fine. You’re actually right this time.” “What? I am always right!” “Whatever khonshu.” You head towards your bed, getting the covers off of the bed for you to get in. You breathe in peace finally, “im surprised you stayed to give me advice, big bird.” “Y/N, close your eyes before I close them with a hit to the nose.”

- you laugh, finally going to sleep soon after. Surprisingly, khonshu grabbed the blanket you have thrown off, tucking you in carefully. He figured he’d find Marc later.

[emocxnteddie]

Prompt Fics

A/N - Just to make it make more sense as to what this is. This is something I've seen other people do however I don't know the name of the whole thing as a subject. Though it is basically I make prompts which you guys can pick up to 3 and I'll have to include them in a fic of the character of your choosing and it'll fit the theme of the prompts. Are we on the same board? Okay!&lt;3

"We aren't made for one another, it is clearer beyond belief."

"Sometimes, words can't describe you and I."

"Put your hand in mine and I'll show you just how much you matter to me."

"What is life without a goal but a pointless reason to live?"

"Honestly, last night was the most..thrilling experience i've had."

"The moon shields our forbidden act, so we shall take cover by it's beauty tonight."

"I couldn't take my eyes off of you, you were truly a natural earlier, though of course, you are also a natural at pleasing me.."

"Life is short, my sweet, which means there so much to experience before it ends."

"The only reason to hold on is alcohol, yet I hold on for you, it's stupid."

"My love, I promise, we will meet again, under better circumstances, please be safe."

"You should watch your tongue, i'm quite good at making pets obey me."

"Never let them know your next move, ey~"

"This is your end, thief, now face the consequences or my blade through your throat."

"I'd never settled myself for someone to get down and dirty with just anyone, yet here I am with a nobody, good for you that you're handsome."

"None can ever take you from me, you belong to me, you better know that."

"You never think before acting do you, pup? Oh, no need to be a sour pup, be good."

"I know, I know, my love, it'll be fine, it's gonna be okay."

"Oh god! So much fucking blood! What happened here? A bath bomb gone wrong!?"

"I hate this, couldn't we just have stayed home and eaten shit food instead of going outside?"

"Hey, I got a date idea, let's take you to therapy!"

"You know, I've never felt loved before however, you made it..possible, thank you."

"Yeah, no, we are not fucking in there, now if you want to fuck, we are going back home you horny bastard."

"This tastes like ass, did you put mouldy fucking salt in this or some bullshit like that?"

"Listen, I love you, but I am not having a chi- oh? maybe i will."

"Marriage is fucking stupid, I believe in branding your lover to show people that you love them!"

".. I hate socializing, can't we drink at home instead of going to the bar?"

"You look as pretty as the first day I saw you, every day you remind me how much you mean to me."

"Calm down, we will fix this, you haven't done anything wrong."

"Who hurt you? WHO HURT YOU!? I'll make them fucking pay, none hurts you, my darling."

"Why did you talk to him? What did he say? You know you shouldn't talk to others, why did you do it? Do you not love me anymore?!"

"You sing beautifully, my love, I could listen to you forever."

"..Did you just slap my ass and call me 'my pretty princess'? What the fuck."

"Test my patience and I will not go easy on you."

"You've been bad, bad behavior has consequences, now get on the bed."