#fluffy fluff fluff

[incandescentwarmth]

I think my favorite wolfstar trope is Remus braiding Sirius’s hair

He did it for the first time when Sirius got sick. The curls were sticking to his fevered skin and he wanted to make sure it was out of his face. It was a lose plait in the back that looked pretty terrible and didn’t hold but it did the job and was appreciated.

A few days later, Sirius left the door to the bathroom open when he was getting ready. Remus was watching him quietly, not wanting to disturb, and saw Sirius mess with his hair before getting frustrated and brushing it back out. He did this a few times before giving up and dressing for the day. Later in the afternoon, the two were lounging on the grass in the sun and Remus asked him to sit in front of him. He made two braids on either side, they weren’t fancy but he took his time and they were clean and framed his face nicely. James came out to find them and stopped in his tracks at the smile and blush adorning Sirius’s cheeks.

Sirius never asked Remus to do it but they both knew how happy it made him to have his boyfriend’s hands in his hair so Remus was never hesitant to volunteer. It was always the simple braids though until Marlene got back from quidditch practice one night with two dutch braids that were starting to come undone from the flying. He snuck up to the girls room that night and asked how she did them.

He failed at the fancier styles the first few times, the hair would get tangled or just not sit right. It wasn’t until one night in the common room that Lily was leaning back against Mary’s leg who leaned over and whispered to Remus to pay attention. She did a long French braid down the center of Lily’s hair, going slow enough for Remus to observe. The next morning, Sirius came down for breakfast with two perfect french braids looking at Remus like he hung the moon.

#wolfstar #fluff #fluffy fluff fluff #marauders era #marauders #sirius black #remus lupin

[dontfindmerain]

Okay so like, imagine hearing that Wilbur is insecure about the way he looks (totally valid btw) and just taking him somewhere to sit down. Holding his hands and sitting on your knees in front of him, looking up at him softly.

You kiss his palms, every action full of gentleness, then his knuckles. And you sit there for hours, softly pointing out every little thing you love about him and pressing your lips to it.

“You see this right here?” you point to the dimple on the left side of his face and kiss it, “The cutest thing ever.”

“Your arms, look at these! So strong, so pretty.”

“Oh my gosh and your hands, Wil! Look! They’re gorgeous and so talented, you can play guitar better than anyone I’ve ever known.”

Every comment is laced with giddy love, adoration, worship. There is no lust, just pure unconditional love.

And by the end, he's pulling you into his lap and kissing you gently, whispering thank yous and smiling so big.

Sweet sweet boy :(

#mosslovestherain #moss writes #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur x reader #wilbur x you #insecurity #soft gentle love #fluffy fluff fluff

[awyeahitssam]

“Loki, over here,” he called out, and the room hushed. Morgan wiggled deeper into the crook of his elbow, cooing. 

The Aesir watched Loki approach with wide eyes. Tony ignored their reactions, as usual, and smiled at the other man. 

“Stark,” Loki returned stiffly, eyes locked on Tony's, not acknowledging the baby in his arms. “I thank you for your hospitality. Congratulations are in order.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony stepped closer and nudged Loki with his shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Lokes. It’s been a minute.”

There was a moment when Loki remained stiff, and then he pushed back into Tony’s shoulder and offered him a smirk. “You can’t have had time to miss me in between missing sleep.”

“Oh, I can and I have,” Tony teased back. “Who am I meant to match wits with while you’re away? Lovely as Morgan is, she hasn’t got speech down just yet, and I can only hold both halves of the conversation for so long before running out of oxygen.”

Loki followed his gaze down to Morgan, eyes going wide at his first glance. She was swaddled in the green and gold blanket Loki had left for Tony to find after news of the birth. It filled him with warmth. Introducing a babe to the world was an important event, and this is what Stark chose to wrap her into. A combination of their colors. 

Said mortal caught his eye as he glanced up and smiled. “Would you like to hold her?”

Loki's heart stuttered in his chest. “Truly?”

“It’s safe to say that’s a skill you’ve picked up at some point, yeah?” Tony checked. “I mean, I can show you how if you want.” 

“I assure you I have had many occasions to hold an infant,” Loki said. “Did you wish for a Blessing?”

“A… what?” 

“A protection for your daughter. It is common for me to bless new Aesir on their naming day. Is that not why you wish for me to hold her?”

Tony blinked. “No. I just thought that you might like to? I’m not trying to scam you into… blessing her? And would it even be a genuine blessing if it’s an expectation or request?”

Loki looked up from Morgan to meet his gaze. “I am very powerful,” he murmured. “My blessings are always effective. Genuinity doesn’t enter the equation.”

“Now the question is, did you actually just use that colloquialism, or did All Speak translate one of yours into one of mine?”

Loki rolled his eyes, as if Tony could not see the spark of mirth in them. “It seemed fitting, given my audience.”

“Aww, you’re talking math for me,” Tony teased, smile quick and warm. “If you want to give my kid a blessing I’m hardly gonna stop you, Lokes. But it’s conditional. You bless her, you’ve got to put up with me hugging you.”

Tony watched Loki’s posture ease with interest. The moment the word ‘conditional,’ had left his lips, Loki’s face had done an interesting spasm that meant he was either about to eviscerate him, or Tony had actually managed to hurt his feelings. He’d have to rethink his phrasing in the future, even if he had just been teasing.

“Oh, very well. Hand her over.”

Despite the put upon tone, Loki was careful as he accepted the baby from Tony. Morgan settled quickly in his secure hold, which was a pleasant change. She’d been whining most of the morning whenever Tony handed her off, though admittedly this was only the third time he’d done so. Something about Pepper—presumably the introduction of her floral perfume—had set Morgan off, and Rhodey had been too gentle in his caution. 

She’d more or less been a perfect angel in his arms, though, which left Pepper muttering to their daughter about not inflating his ego. 

Loki began to chant, the sound almost melodic. The eye of every Aesir was on them now, and the others at the party seemed to have caught on. It left them with plenty of gawkers, but relative silence. It was as if Loki’s words were sucking all other noise from the room, soft and old and gorgeous. 

No matter how fascinating Tony found the way All Speak could find no translation for the tongues Loki spoke in, he was more caught up on the way Morgan’s pudgy hand curled into Loki’s shirt, wrinkling the material. The slight imperfection in such a perfect scene made him smile. His daughter would be a force of chaos, and was being blessed by its god. It makes something in him bubble up effervescently, and this was not a moment for laughter but he is tempted by it regardless. 

When Loki fell silent it was with his lips mere millimeters above Morgan’s brow, and then he pressed a kiss to her head. The familiar green spark that Tony associated with Loki’s sedir blossomed at the contact, and the glow of it spread over Morgan in a gentle, pulsating wave. 

“She will be healthy, in body as well as mind.” Loki said, voice just as enrapturing now that he was speaking English again. It's a tone that threatened to catch all of Tony’s attention and pull it away from his daughter. 

He pulled both of them close to him, instead. He had already warned Loki, and the mage hardly seems against being drawn into his arms. He let out an amused huffing noise and tilted his head to rest gently aside Tony’s own. Tony very carefully didn't crush Morgan, who's hold on Loki had not loosened a bit, though she did make a soft noise at the feel and smell of her father so close. 

“Keeping a good hold of him, hm? Good luck, sweetheart.” His chin rose, face alight in a smile, dangerously close to Loki’s green eyes. “Thanks.”

The whispering increased. Loki, aware of their audience, murmured, “Our people shall talk.” 

Tony’s laughter was warm, his response carefree, “Undoubtedly. Should we give them more to say?”

Loki's eyes glittered with mischief and amusement. He smirked. "I've just kissed one Stark. What's another?"

#FrostIron #Loki/Tony #Kidfic #fluffy fluff fluff #my writing

[silverspriings]

CARE — remus lupin

summary: after a long day of work, you feel yourself coming down with something. luckily, you married the most generous man in the world.

pairings: remus lupin x fem!reader

wc: 1.4k

notes: PLEASE send in marauders and golden era requests i want to write for them so bad but i suck ass at coming up with my own ideas :/

moony reads is exactly what you and remus have dreamed of your entire lives. who wouldn't want to run a hole in the wall bookstore in the middle of notting hill with your true love? however, there's always a kink in the road.

you and remus met at albus university getting english degrees you both knew you'd probably never use. you fell in love over oscar wilde, the brontë sisters, and the horrific original poems professor slughorn used to read at the commencement of every lecture.

but before magical love always comes pining.

and remus was in deep as soon as he saw you.

the first class you had ever had together was romantic literature of the 19th century. when going through the gauntlet of choosing courses, this class had been your top pick, so you were elated to find it in your schedule.

remus, however, was not. don't get it wrong, the boy loved the works they would be reading. jane austen made him fall in love with english in secondary school. but it was an 8 am. remus could not stand 8 am classes.

that was until he walked in on the first week and saw you. you sat there reading anna karenina, filling the margins with your thoughts in ink. he was enamored instantly. the way you chewed your lip as you focused on the classic, the way your hair fell over your face, even the large, shapeless yet comfy sweater you wore appealed to him.

there was even an open seat next to you! did remus sit in it? no. he did not.

what he did do was rant on and on to his roommates about you. he praised your intelligence and your obvious love for literature to his listening friends.

"maybe you should try sitting next to her next class," james said.

maybe i will, is what remus thought.

the next time he had romantic literature of the 19th century, he arrived perky as ever ready to sit next to the person of his dreams. and there, sitting in the seat he imagined actually speaking to you, maybe confessing his love, maybe proposing, maybe sacrificing his first born for your requited love, was a boy named... chad.

yes. chad. remus lupin's greatest adversary in his second semester of uni was a boy named chad.

remus never ended up speaking to you in romantic literature of the 19th century. he took chad's presence as a sign that you weren't the one.

next year, as a second year, remus took on the most dreaded course of any english student at albus. explorations of poetry, taught by slughorn.

he dreaded this class more than any 8 am he had ever had. he dreaded it so much that he arrived to the lecture late on the very first day. only one more seat in the hall remained. right next to you.

as remus slowly sat down, you turned and smiled shyly at him. remus will swear forever that he almost went into cardiac arrest at that moment.

this moment with remus was not your first impression of him. you had been noticing the boy ever since that romance class last year as well. as chad would drone on and on about his trust fund or his newest designer watch, you gaze would always travel to the boy in the thick wool sweaters with the unruly dirty blonde hair. you found that you loved his voice in that class. the way he would talk about the intricacies of love and romance was almost pornographic to your ears.

so when he sat next to you in that torturous poetry lecture, you decided to shoot whatever shot you had.

"hey, are you remus from mcgonagall's class last year?" you asked with a fast beating heart and softly blushed cheeks.

"yeah, yeah. y/n, right?"

the remainder of that lesson was spent passing notes between the two of you as slughorn tormented the class with his dreadful prose. by the end of class your cheeks hurt from smiling at the cute boy, and his heart had grown six sizes at the possibility of having a chance with you.

"um, y/n," remus said as everyone packed their bags to escape from slughorn's lecture hall, "i don't have any classes on wednesdays, so i was kinda wondering if you would want to do a study... date?"

your smile grew beyond what you knew was humanly possible. you eagerly agreed to the study date (even though you did have classes on wednesday but they can be skipped), and the rest was history.

after two years of dating, you and remus graduated from uni ready to go out into the professional world. however, the professional world isn't often kind.

you and remus were working jobs that bored both of you endlessly when you took a walk through notting hill. the quintessential london neighborhood was your favorite spot for a casual stroll in rare clear weather. posted on the door of a small, thin townhouse was a "for sale" sign. usually, you would've overlooked this and continued walking. but you were unsatisfied with your current life and the place was so insanely small it wouldn't cost a billion pounds.

on a whim, you and remus decided to throw everything into buying the skinny three story townhouse. and on your first day inside, he knelt down on one knee and proposed.

a thousand seemingly endless renovations and an intimate summer wedding later, moony reads was finally open for business. it was the perfect time to open a quaint bookstore in notting hill, as the holiday gift rush was starting, and tourisits came to london for the winter season.

it turns out to not be the perfect time for you. remus had to visit his family's cottage today, so the store was left in your care. you could close up shop and go up the stairs of the townhome to you and remus's apartment at any time, but the customers wouldn't stop coming.

what did stop coming was the heat.

notting hill is an old neighborhood with old houses, so it shouldn't be a surprise when things break. but it is quite unpleasant when the weather outside is close to freezing, your heating system is cold, and customers keep opening the door to the outside. by the end of the workday, you felt sneezy, sniffly, and chilled to your bones.

once upstairs in the apartment, you made a cup of tea (which was guzzled without care for the burn on your tongue), and hid under the blankets of your bed.

around 9 pm, remus returned home to find it freezing cold. he checked the thermostat to find it shut off, groaning as the one thing needed in london winters broke.

immediately worried for his wife, remus darts through the small house to find you cuddled under a heavy pile of blankets with a pink nose and a halo of tissues around you.

"darling," he softly nudges you through the thick armor of blankets, "i need you to wake up so i can get you some medicine."

you let out a dramatic moan as you're brought back into consciousness by your husband. your head hurts, you have shivers, your nose is running. you just feel like shit.

"no, remus." your stubbornness comes out at the thought of being the helpless one in your relationship. "i'm really not that bad. i'll just call the landlord tomorrow. it'll be fine-"

cue coughing fit.

"sorry, sweetheart. not happening." remus is already moving towards the medicine cabinet in the bathroom for cough syrup.

"i'll call the landlord, and give you this medicine, and make you amazing chicken noodle soup tomorrow, and take care of everything in the bookstore." remus speaks in a no-nonsense tone that makes his word final.

"i love you and i'm not having you die over a common cold because you're too stubborn to let me help you."

"but-" you try to argue.

"nope. just let me take care of you," he says while leaning down to press a tender kiss to your warm forehead.

after you give a melodramatic performance of downing the disgustingly flavored cough syrup (which he rolls his eyes and grins at), remus pulls on pajamas, grabs you more blankets, and crawls under the covers to provide you with more body heat.

he has to sush your protests of not wanting him to get sick, but after that, laying in his arms is peaceful. as the strong medicine forces you into deep slumber, you thank your lucky stars for giving you this gift of a man that will care for you with all of his heart.

don't come for me if i got something wrong abt british culture but this is actually cute i think. also, can you tell i read you deserve each other and i'm obsessed with soft married couples rn.

#marauders #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fluff #marauders era #marauders fic #fluffy fluff fluff

[my-mummy-dust]

I’ll carry you

Just a little ficlet based off a dumb idea I sent to one of my moots, who responded with ‘that’s hot’ ?? Like ok now I guess I have to write it. 😒 (ily)

Warnings: none? Some cm violence but no blood or anything. Misspelled words and grammar mistakes? Word count: 2.1k

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

You grunted softly in pain, limping your way over to hotch and Rossi. Putting your hands on your hips, you shifted all your weight onto one leg, extending your other to alleviate the pain, but appear as un-injured as possible while doing so.

‘Is everything alright?”

Rossi said, turning to face you, one of his eyebrows raised in questioning.

“Yeah, I’m all good. Where’s everyone else?”

Aaron chimed in, turning to face you like Rossi had.

“They started walking back with the unsub. We couldn’t fit the SUVs or sheriff cars onto the road leading here. I thought you went with them?”

In all honesty, you wish you had. If you could you’d be chatting it up with prentiss, Morgan, and Reid; but the unsub had other plans. It took you a solid couple minutes to get out of the room you were in and into the main part of the old building hotch and Rossi were in.

“Yeah, i got caught up with..stuff.”

Shifting in your spot, you were about to move your weight to your other leg, a habit you’d picked up, but the moment the smallest ounce of weight was put on your leg; a sharp pain tore through your entire leg. From your thigh all the way down to your ankle. You had to bite down hard on your lip to stop from audibly wincing.

Hotch and Rossi Boeing profilers trained to pick up on even the smallest of details about a persons demeanor noticed this. Hotch took a step towards you, a look of concern coating his eyes.

‘Are you hurt?”

One of the many things about Aaron hotchner that never failed to amaze you was how quickly his tone can change. Not just his tone, his whole demeanor, everything. He could go from so stern and professional, to the most caring, lovestruck idiot in the world. Like now for example, when you hobbled over he was talking to Rossi in a relaxed, but still professional manner. But now, his tone changed completely. When he asked if you got hurt, his face looked worried, his tone mirroring that but without the sharpness his facial features has.

Weighing your options, you sighed, running a stressed hand through your hair. You could lie, and just say that it hurt from the hours you had been in a car today, or tell him the truth and deal with clingy ‘doctor aaron’ as you called it. Anytime you’d get hurt he would be all over you. It was sweet, but embarrassed you to the highest of heavens and back. Not that you hated it.

‘Y/n?”

The use of your first name brought you out of your careful decision making. Snapping back into reality you shrugged.

‘It’s nothing, just a little sore. No bleeding, no broken bones.”

You watched carefully as hotch’s brows knitted together. None of you noticed that heheh bent down just a bit to look over your face until he stood up fully, straightening himself out and checked his watch.

‘Well the road to the cars is a considerable distance, and if we want to catch up with the others id suggest we start walking now.’

Rossi said as he started walking out of the building, leaving the two of you behind. Once Rossi had left the building, he stepped a little closer, bringing his hand up under your chin to tilt your head up so he could make absolutely sure your face was ok.

You felt a red tint taking over your face as you diverted your gaze away from his, the butterflies in your stomach going feral.

‘Aaron, really…I’m alright. We should go catch up with Rossi.”

After another moment of him just staring at you, he bent down and kissed your cheek, a stern look still on his face.

‘Let’s go then”

You nodded and watched him walk for a few steps, then took a deep breath in and out, and started walking. Biting your cheek to keep quiet, you slowly hobbled behind him; having to stop every couple steps to catch your breath. You held it when you were in pain; a habit you cursed as you started to get lightheaded.

He stopped in his tracks after catching up with Rossi, who, thankfully wasn’t too far ahead. He turned around to look at you, Rossi following hotch’s motions. The look of worry on hotch’s face was unmistakeable as he walked towards you, new wrinkles appearing in his face.

“What?”

You asked, trying to deflect the fact that you were out of breath and on the verge of ripping your leg off completely.

‘You cant walk.”

It was a statement. He wasn’t asking for your protest, he was telling you to stop walking.

“What are we gonna do? We’re not even halfway to the cars”

Rossi thought aloud, eying your leg.

‘She cant walk’

Hotch said, turning his head to face rossi.

‘Well we cant drag her’

Rossi’s half-assed comment made you smile a bit.

‘Then I’ll carry her’

He said, turning back to you. Walking over to you with steady strides, he stopped in front of you; momentarily searching your face for any outright rejection to his proposal.

‘Really, i can walk,’

‘No. And it’ll be faster this way’

He stepped forwards, extending his arms. For a moment, you caught his worried gaze. His brown eyes staring into your soul.

‘Turn to the side for me, hurt leg facing away from me.’

You nodded and did as you were told, pivoting on your heel so your injured leg was facing away from him. He shuffled forward, one arm wrapping around your lower back. As he bent down to wrap his other arm under your knees, he stopped momentarily right by your ear, lowering his voice.

“Are you ok with this?”

He wanted to make sure he wasn’t making you uncomfortable. He knew your interjections and protests were shallow, but he was a cautious guy. You nodded, all you pain melting away for just a second while you basked in the sweetness of his voice.

Hotch bent down a little more, bringing his other arm under your knees and scooping you up. With a low grunt under his breath you were in his arms. You winced at the suddenly contact of your legs hitting each other, and herd hotch softly apologizing. Turning around he walked back over to Rossi, motioning towards the cars in the distance.

‘You cant carry her the whole way Aaron’

‘Says who?’

“Me”

You smiled once again at hotch and Rossi’s banter, clasping your bangs together because you honestly didn’t know what to do with yourself. Aaron leaned his head down a little so it was closer to your ear once again.

“Here, wrap your arms around my neck so you don’t fall”

His voice was so soft and gentle. It was low but not threatening, in a caring way. You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, interlocking your fingers with each other on the back of his neck.

‘So care to tell us what you did princess?”

Rossi’s tone was dripping in sarcasm, the new nickname causing you to laugh. Hotch raised a brow as he kept walking, taking extra caution to walk steadily.

‘The unsub kicked my knee pretty hard and i fell, when i was down he landed another solid kick just below the other one’

You suffered at the thought, the pain growing the more you thought about it.

‘Was this before we got in there?”

Aaron interjected. You simply nodded. He hummed in response, but you could tell he wasn’t happy.

~~~~~~~

After a little more walking, the sound of gravel crunching under his boots almost lulling you to sleep, the three of you finally caught up to everyone else. They were all talking by the ambulance as Morgan was getting looked over. He got a small cut just above his eyebrow, though it wasn’t deep enough for stitches.

All of them went dead silent as they looked first at hotch, then you in his arms.

‘My, my. What do we have here?”

Morgan called out with a smirk on his face. You turned tomato red, not sure if you could bury your face in Aaron’s chest to hide, or if that would make it worse on your end.

‘She couldn’t walk all the way.’

Aaron stated as he walked next to Morgan, urging him to move from where he was seated on the bumper. When he moved hotch gently set you down, kissing the top of your head as he stood up. To your dismay, there was a symphony of ‘ooooh’s and little comments that reminded you of elementary school, when a kid would get called into the principals office.

Prentiss and JJ walked over to you, standing next to you as hotch told the ambulance workers what happened to your leg.

‘What was that all about?”

JJ asked with amusement in her tone.

‘I couldn’t walk.’

You repeated Aaron’s words, wishing they would take that and be happy. But of course, they weren’t.

‘I saw the kiss on the top of the head’

Prentiss stated matter-a-factly, almost sounding like Reid when he would correct something you’d said that wasn’t ‘scientifically accurate’. You looked at Aaron, and he stared back. You silently asked if it was time to tell the team or not. He nodded once, stepping back to let the medics do their work.

‘Hotch and i are kinda…dating”

“What?”

The whole team said in unison. Well everyone except for Rossi. He knew for a while. Aaron nodded, watching you carefully as the medics pulled your pant leg up, revealing a pretty nasty bruise in its early stages.

You winced as the medic poked around your leg. You knew it was only to make sure your leg wasn’t broken, but it didn’t have to hurt so much.

‘I really don’t think its broken….i can walk on it, just hurts..’

You trailed off, being hit with a small wave of nausea from the pain. After another very painful moments of poking, turning, and having you bend your leg the medic nodded.

‘It’s not broken, just make sure to rest and ice it when you can. Don’t put any extra weight on it.’

You nodded, thanking the medic for looking you over and stood. You stumbled for a moment, tying and failing to balance on your good leg. A firm hand grabbing your forearm steadied you. Aaron checked his watch, looking at everyone on the team, as if he was taking mental attendance.

‘Well its getting late. Let’s head back to the sheriffs department and when they’re done with us, head back to your hotel rooms and start packing up. We’ll leave tomorrow after breakfast.’

Everyone nodded and made their way to their respected vehicles. You started to walk away, but got tugged backwards by the hand on your arm.

‘Where do you think you’re going?”

Hotch asked, raising a brow in a joking manner.

‘To the car? Where are you going?”

You raised both of your brows, leaning back a little for dramatic affect. He cracked a smile and bent down a little, bringing your arm over his shoulders as he walked you to the passenger side of his SUV. He opened the door and helped you into the car, clasping it behind you. The car ride was peaceful until he started the scolding. It was a stretch calling it that, but he wanted to get it into your head that you cant just barge into the unsub s territory by yourself not expecting to get hurt.

You could hear the worry in his voice, and when you looked over at him you saw it painted all over his face. Reaching your hand out a little, he took it and rested both of your hands in your lap, his thumb rubbing the top of your hand gently.

‘I’m sorry for worrying you like that’

You sheepishly murmured, staring out the window at the passing scenery.

‘Don’t apologize sweetie, I’m not mad, just worried.’

He squeezed your hand a little when he used the name, still rubbing the back of your hand. The butterflies in your stomach had returned full force, and your felt like you were floating. After a second he spoke again.

‘Hey,’

You looked over in his direction, humming softly in response.

‘I love you’

‘I love you too’

The two of you smiled, basking in the comfort of each other, enjoying the comforting silence. He brought the top of your hand to his lips and kissed it, before resting your hand back in your lap, his still holding yours. You learned the side of your head against the cold window and closed your eyes, not realizing how tired you were from the action of earlier. Once the pain meds had finally kicked in, you fell asleep, still holding onto Aaron’s hand.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

A/n: I loved writing this!! Sorry if there’s any misspelled words or anything, I didn’t spend as much time going over it as I usually would, bc I’m in that mood where if I stare at my writing too long I’ll keep changing it and it’ll lose its charm.

@hearthotchner 🥰🫶🏻

#criminal minds #agent hotchner #super sexy agent hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #fluffy fluff fluff

[dipplinduo]

SURPRISE DROP: FLUFFY DIPPLINSHIPPING ONESHOT FOR VALENTINE'S DAY! <3

It's officially Valentine's Day, but this year felt different for Kieran. He can't hide his feelings for Juliana too much longer - in fact, he feels like he's going to BURST. Juliana will be spending lunch with him as friends, but does he have what it takes to finally fess up and ask her out? And more importantly, will Juliana even agree to go out with him?

(Note: This oneshot is not related to S&S D content)

Special thanks to @blazestar0525 for all of their wonderful fashion art for Juliana! I depicted Juliana in my personal favorite outfit design because it was just TOO good and I have been itching to have it come into a fic!!

Additionally, thank you so much @cosmic-seer for proofreading this for me despite the fact that we're both busy Ribombees juggling many schemes. You a real one!!

Hope you enjoy!!! Would love to hear what you think. <3333

#my fics #dipplinshipping #kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana pokemon #juliana x kieran pokemon #juliana pokemon #kieran x juliana #juliana x kieran #fluffy fluff fluff #flower lore #<33333 #I hope you all can feel some form of love that feels good for today - even if it's just staying lowkey. I see u <333

[failedaethercore]

Frustration

You've got feelings for someone and you have no idea how to process them, let alone deal with them.

Angsty fluff and smutty frustration turn into a satisfying conclusion.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

Rafayel x reader/MC, use of y/n, mention of Xavier and Zayne, masturbation, cussing, smut, smutty smut smut, praise kink, light master play, a little begging, fluff, angsty, unrequited feelings, doubt, cute stuff too

If you are under 18, please refrain from reading this. You have been warned, continuing to read this means you have ignored my warning.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

It had been a long succession of weeks. Too long. If it wasn’t missions, it was training. If it wasn’t those, it was mountains of paperwork. You had barely gotten any downtime lately, and you were fraying at the seams. It kept you busy, at least.

But when Captain Jenna offered you some downtime, you silently fought it. It would be only two days off, but it meant you would be alone with yourself. With your thoughts. So only to keep from being put on suspension, you took it. You figured you could do some self care, an errand or two, some tv…it won’t be that bad, right?

The first day was going fine, you had a long hot bath, soaking away your worries. You even slept in a bit, and you had plans to get food delivered as well. You were gonna pamper yourself and take good care of yourself this weekend. You swore that was the goal.

You had been avoiding this much time off from Hunting because you were avoiding a much bigger issue. One you were far from ready to admit to yourself, let alone anyone else...

This was especially because you had been feeling…frustrated lately. You kept stealing glances at your attractive friend Zayne, who was also your doctor. And your coworker Xavier was not ignored, either. But when you got anywhere near your second boss, Rafayel, you would freeze up and just shut down.

You hadn’t even been with anyone in years, and even then it had been a tame relationship that only lasted a couple months, at most.

So…you were just a little pent up.

You got out your secret stash of toys, just a couple vibrators, a dildo, some lube, the usual suspects. You had been itching for some pleasure down there, and to be honest, you had almost wanted to call someone over to help…

See but, you knew full well it would likely be taking advantage…you knew you could ask Xavier to do almost anything. But in knowing that, the guilt that tugged at your gut made you rethink it every time.

And Zayne would just go along with things to help you, not that he would complain. But he only saw you as a little sister, if anything. So you felt guilt, there, too…

And the only other viable option, well…you were avoiding that altogether. Forever. Buried. Banned. No more.

But no matter, you knew all your own buttons, you wouldn’t have a difficult time of this, even if it had been a while…this’d be a nice time to reconnect with yourself, right?

…

That was THREE HOURS AGO…

You were panting, flushed and frustrated, fingers aching, lips dry, sweat covering your body…and it was like you weren’t able to dip your toe into the water, let alone take that dive into the pool.

You were so frustrated, you started to cry. You were nearly sobbing, your nerves were officially wrecked, and you were ready to just get up and drink all the liquor you kept in your kitchen. At least that way you could relax.

So when your phone rang, you just dejectecly picked it up without a thought. Your voice was hoarse and came out shaky from the attempted masturbation, and the sobs that kept jumping up your throat like frogs from not getting anywhere…among other feelings that kept wrenching your thoughts away from your pleasure.

“…Hello?”

“Y/n! I’m so glad to finally hear from you…you’ve been avoiding me lately, I was getting depressed, you know. It’s not nice to avoid someone so handsome…”

Oh no…not him.

“…Rafayel…what do you want?” Your voice was shaky and hoarse, but cold.

“Wow, do you think so little of me? I just wanted to check up on you on your day off, since we haven’t had a chance to talk in forever…I don’t want a thing. Scout’s honor.” You could almost see him making the gesture of raising his hand as if he were a junior scout in your head. You tried not to smirk at how dumb it looked.

“…Wait, how did you know it was my day off??” You turned to look at your phone, as if to make sure you hadn’t turned on a video call.

“Well a little fishie told me, of course! But that’s besides the point, y/n… you sound bad, did you catch something?” Concern could be heard in his tone, and you almost wanted to scream from frustration, because your patience with him was beyond thin right now.

“I’m. Fine. Just trying to relax, Rafayel.” Anger tinged your response as you still lay, naked, sweaty and annoyed, in your stuffy room. But your voice was getting worse from all the talking, so he just heard you denying you were sick.

If he dared to suggest- “I’m coming over. You sound awful, I’ll make sure to take care of you, Miss Bodyguard.”

“No! Rafayel don’t you da-“ click…

“…Fuck. I am so screwed.” You wonder if you can relocate your entire apartment in a matter of minutes. But then you sit up and reality splashes cold water on that dream, too.

You know Xavier is busy taking over missions while you have the two days off, and apparently Zayne is out of town at some conference of some kind. You have no backup. You have no one to step in if things turn south. You quickly dial Thomas before your mind has time to catch up.

“…Hello? Y/n? Is everything alright?”

“Thomas you have to help. Stop him, he’s headed for my apartment as we speak.”

Thomas could read the situation like he was breathing. He was used to you calling and begging him to stop Rafayel from doing who-knows-what.

“Your voice sounds bad, y/n, you should probably be resting if you’re sick…plus, you know Rafayel, he’ll most likely just order in some takeaway and leave once you pass out. He’s not good at taking care of anyone.”

Yes. You knew this. But right now you were anything but tired, let alone sick. If he caught on to what you had been up to to cause your voice to go like this…fuck. You had to hurry. Your bed was covered in toys and damp from the sweat and lube. “Okay Thomas I gotta go bye!”

You gave him no chance to speak and hung up on him. You rushed to put on clothes, shoved your sweaty sheets in your laundry hamper, and struggled to put fresh ones on. You had moments, maybe. If Rafayel drove like he normally does, then you were almost out of time.

That’s when you noticed them again. The toys. You didn’t have time to clean them, so you couldn’t put them away. That’s when you heard the first knock. Fuck.

You shoved them under your bed in a rush and made sure your pajamas didn’t smell too bad…you hadn’t had a chance to get laundry done, yet…which was tomorrow’s main attraction, unfortunately.

Thankfully, they smelled of detergent still, if only faintly. So you should be good.

You start padding over to the door, as more knocks begin to sound. “I’m coming, I’m coming! Gods, Rafayel, calm down…��� You open the door to find the man smirking confidently down at you, a bag in hand, and one of his classic outfits with his chest somewhat exposed greeting you.

Normally, the sight would make you snort. But your nerves were still heightened, so you only managed a slight blush instead. “Y/n, you look like you have a fever, here…let me help, okay?”

Your irritation seems to know no limits today, as you try to slam the door in his face, but with no real power behind it, he catches the door and lets himself in, chuckling a little. “I see you’re in good spirits, then.”

You glare at him as he sets the small bag on the counter in your kitchen, and then goes to your side to place his hand against your forehead.

For some reason you don’t flinch like you normally would, which tips him off that something’s up. Instead you blush a little more, looking away. “…I’m fine, Raf.” The abbreviation to his name is to infer annoyance, distance. But he takes a small step closer instead.

“You feel warm…and sweaty, you could have a virus, y/n.” He turns his gaze from you to glance around. “Where do you keep your thermometer?” You grumble at him a quiet “don’t have one.” Which you know Zayne would lose his mind over. But that’s future you’s problem, if it ever gets out.

“Hmmm…guess we’ll just have to do this, then.” He leans down and presses his forehead to yours. “Ah! Rafayel, what are you doing?!” You back up defensively.

“Just making sure. Yeah, you’re hot. Let’s get something to cool you down... ice cream? No, you don’t eat that when you’re sick… I’ll order some porridge. You like abalone, right?” “…No, not really…” he looks at you in shock, as if you had just insulted his entire species.

“Well you’re going to learn to like it. And I’ll get some tea started. I brought some, and a few other things.” He waves his hand as if to shoo you to the living room area. You glower at him in a way that would make plants die.

He ignores you, starting the electric kettle and pulling out a canister from the small bag he brought. You were curious what else was in there, to be honest...

You slumped on the sofa and fumed a little, but by the time Rafayel brought you some tea, you wandered into daydreams instead.

Mostly ones involving Xavier or Zayne. Not this annoying little fish who clung to you like bad luck.

He set the tea on the coffee table in front of you before snapping his fingers in your face. You hated when people did that. You looked up at him slowly, the lewd thoughts that had made you blush to yourself now fading, along with the color in your cheeks.

Your eyes settled into a glare and you quickly grabbed his hand and yanked him down to sit next to you. “Don’t. Ever. Do that. Again.” With every word you pinched his arm. Hard.

He yelped at the first one, then just pouted as he rubbed the spots you had attacked. “I was calling your name for a while…I wanted to know if you had any honey.” For a moment your mind flashes to a lewd thought again, someone drizzling honey on your naked body and licking it all off.

You blushed and looked away. “Top cupboard near the fridge. …Green lid.” He sighs and gets up to bring it to you, and you felt a pang of guilt for that. He didn’t deserve so much of your ire, after all, it wasn’t his fault…

He serves you the tea carefully, after adding a spoonful of honey to the cup. The steam fills your senses, the smell is floral, like jasmine, but with citrus and a deeper, unknown scent. Then something that smells like the ocean fills you with a contentment for a moment, before you realize it’s most likely his scent you’re swooning over. Shit.

You take the cup and carefully sip the tea, staying silent. The awkward chill in the room fills you with dread. This is when you make bad choices, usually. That or when there’s…wait, is there alcohol in this?!

“Rafayel, did you put booze in this??” You look at him with incredulity before he gives you a slight grin. “It’ll help your fever. I saw you had some whiskey on the counter and figured it might be a good idea. Don’t worry, it’s not a lot.” He takes the cup from you to set it down.

You feel like a serious talk is about to happen, and you’re not ready to deal with some sort of awkward conversation with your…boss. You stand up abruptly. “I’ll be right back, just need to use the restroom.” You excuse yourself and rush to shut the door behind you. You let out a sigh of relief.

The alcohol is already affecting you, you forgot to eat today, and with all the energy you burned through earlier trying to get yourself off, your body was already starting to feel loose and a little swimmy. Not good.

You had to splash some cold water on your face several times, and silently talk yourself down from a ledge you were dangerously close to jumping off of at full throttle.

He may be a nuisance and frustrating and capricious and downright annoying with how he knew he affected women…but he was a man. A man here. Now. In your moment of need.

No! No y/n! You will not give in to temptation! He would never let you live it down after he rejects you! He would make you suffer for ever even thinking such things!

More splashing from the sink could be heard from the other side of the door. Rafayel was bored, so he started poking his nose where it wasn’t supposed to be. Starting with your room. Because he’s naughty like that.

Hmmm. She has a lot of stuffed animals for such a tough girl. And she doesn’t know how to make her bed, apparently. Oh look, she has photos on her desk of her frie-

Rafayel stops short at a recent photo of you and Xavier, both of you smiling with his arm around your shoulders casually. You were both at the arcade, and he had just won you the special edition plushie that was now sitting next to it on your desk.

He sulkily turns to leave the room before he sees anything else that will sour his mood. But before he gets too far, he sees a bright blue vibrator that had carelessly rolled out from under your bed in your rush earlier.

“Oho…what’s this?” He picks it up, and it’s covered in lube, still. He smirks as it all starts to click. Your irritation, your voice…your scent. He had been wondering why you smelled so amazing today…now he knew. And he was going to tease the life out of you for being so cold to him earlier.

He settles back down on the sofa before you can catch him sneaking around, and he puts on his most casual and bored of expressions.

You emerge from the bathroom ready to send him home, when he looks up from his phone and gives you one of his heartstopping smiles. You still don’t entirely know why, but it had always managed to make you pause, if not blush.

And right now all your efforts to calm yourself down were in vain. He glanced back down at his phone and tapped something. “The food’ll be here soon, is there anything you’d like to do while we wait? I also ordered myself something, since I figure I should stay until you’re feeling a little better.” He smirked at his phone as you stared.

“Rafayel, you can go home, I’m fine.” “Nope, you clearly have a fever. You were just trying to cool down in there, were you not? And your voice is still hoarse. I’m not going anywhere.” He looked up at you and smirked more. You stomped over and tried to grab his arm to pull him off your sofa, but he was too quick for you, and simply pulled you onto his lap.

“Don’t worry about getting me sick, I’m perfectly healthy.” He brushes some wet strands of hair out of your face as you blush and glare at him. “Just leave, Raf. I’m fine, I just…uh…was out all last night singing karaoke. So I sound like this.” You prayed he bought it.

Not a chance.

He wrapped an arm around you idly as he kept doing something on his phone. You were growing impatient with him. The alcohol was making your need only grow stronger, warming your insides and making your decision making skills less than ideal right now.

You weren’t drunk, but you were definitely slightly impaired. So when you finally noticed his fingers softly rubbing circles into your hip while you sat on his lap, you suddenly shot up and put some distance between the both of you.

“Hmm? Is something wrong?” He looks up as if he hadn’t just been touching you intimately. Not even Zayne was that daring. This fish was trouble…

“I need you to go, Raf. I’ve got a lot of chores to do around here, and you’re in the way.” Your tone is cold, and you try to stand firm, despite your slight tremor from your nerves. He only grins in response.

“Let me know and I’ll do them for you while you rest. Just go in your room and lay down for a bit, I can manage.” He gives you a softer smile now, and some part of your heart of steel starts to warm.

But you shake your head to get those fuzzy thoughts out of your mind. He was annoying, remember? All that charm was an act. He was a renowned lady killer, he was just trying to put the moves on you.

“I want you to please leave.” You put your hands on your hips and you stand firm against his persuasion.

That’s when he brings in the big guns. He stands up, almost slowly, deliberate with each step as he approaches you, forcing you to look up into his eyes to try and stare him down.

He places a hand on your cheek and gives you a sad smile. “…You really hate me that much?”

It’s super effective.

Your heart bobs in a dark storm of doubt and guilt, as you try to right yourself in these dangerous waters you’ve found yourself in. You stare up at him, and suddenly a blush blooms on your cheeks.

“…I don’t hate you.” You look away from him, too embarrassed to maintain eye contact now. And, after a long, intense pause…

“…It’s okay... you can stay.”

His heart actually flutters at that. He lifts your chin to look at him again, and he places the softest kiss to your cheek. But you don’t flinch or pull away. You just let it happen.

You almost want to see what he’ll try to do, since he’s clearly up to something…

Rafayel is suddenly drawn to his phone again, a gentle ding notification alerting him to the food now outside your door. He lets his hand slip away from you and goes to retrieve it.

The tension is still there, even after he brings in the food. He’s silent as he sets the bag down on your dining table, and then he looks at you. “…You’re watching me.” His tone is of curiosity, not accusation.

You blush and quickly look away. Before you can summon your barriers around your heart once more, Rafayel slips next to you, silence and stealth being all the easier with you like this. He places a hand on the small of your back to guide you to the table.

“Come, eat it before it gets cold…” your shoulders stiffened at his touch, and you tried to sus out what was going on. You could sense something, but your mind couldn’t figure out what, precisely…

You let him guide you to the table, as he gets out some dishes to serve you some porridge. “They were all out of abalone, so I ordered oyster and scallop. But I’m guessing you’ll prefer it.” He chuckles a little as he sets a full bowl in front of you.

“Why oysters…why not just... chicken?” You look a little bewildered, but take a bite anyways. It’s good, the porridge tastes refreshingly savory and faintly sweet, with a salty oceanic taste you could never mistake. It’s honestly amazing, as you had been meaning to eat earlier…

Rafayel smiles with his boyish charm, sitting down beside you at the square table, serving himself some as well. “It smells so good, I can save the noodles for later. I’ll have some, too.”

He lets out a low, deep moan as he takes the first bite. As if it was the most delicious food he had ever eaten. “C-c’mon Raf, it’s not that good…” you blush and try to secretly adjust yourself in your chair as you’re already struggling to keep from dampening your shorts further.

But he sees all of it. And he gives you a grin. “Maybe, but I haven’t eaten all day, so this is soooo good…” he makes another moan as he takes another bite. This causes your insides to twitch with want. You’re going to kill him.

This has to be deliberate.

And it is.

Before you finish your bowl, Raf has already finished his. He notices your slowed eating, and swiftly steals away your spoon. “You’re eating so slow…it’s not that bad, here I’ll feed you.” You blush immediately. “Rafayel don’t you da-“ a spoonful of porridge is put in your mouth in response.

You slowly chew and swallow, and without a word, another porridge-laden spoon is waiting for you. “Eat up…Miss Bodyguard.” He smirks at you while you silently eat.

After the last bite, he stands to start tidying the dishes and such. You’re still trying to figure out what he’s up to, as he starts to clean. He hums at first, then pauses.

“Y’know…oysters and scallops are sometimes considered an aphrodisiac...”

Oh. Fuck.

“W-what??” You start to sweat a little, as you stare at his back. He finishes washing and turns to smirk at you. Oh shit…he knows.

You start to panic, standing carefully and slowly backing away from him. “You really should clean up your toys when you’re done playing, y/n…” it takes him no time at all to catch you, grabbing your hand as you reflexively put it up to catch any incoming attacks.

His voice is low and his eyes that were once sparkling with concern and caring, are now dark with desire and want. You struggle a little before standing straight and glaring at him. “L-let me go, Rafayel. Just because I ate that doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything with you.”

“Not because you ate it, no…” his voice is husky and he leans down to whisper in your ear. “…But you’re already giving off even stronger pheromones than usual, and you’ve yet to actually stop me…miss Hunter.” he pauses to bring your attention to the fact that his other hand is now resting on your ass. It's true, if you really wanted, you could break his arm in three places and grab your gun while he reels...

“You’re horrible, Rafayel.” He smirks. “But you love me anyways.” His confidence is infuriating.

“I don’t love you.” “But you don’t hate me, either.” “Just because I don’t hate you doesn’t mea-get your hand off my ass, Rafayel!” Your voice rises and he gently slides his hand up to your waist, lifting your pajama shirt slightly in the process.

“Y/n, I know you think I’m annoying sometimes…but I’m not just reading into things that are illusions.” He looks into your eyes, dark and sensual, but also filled with a deep longing. “I’m not the only one here who sees this. You’re just always making excuses to avoid me lately…”

You look away at that, guilt and embarrassment all over your face. “…And I know it has nothing to do with your work, at least…not in the way you say it does. You’re dancing around the issue... Do you not see me as a potential partner?” He gently takes your cheek and turns you to face him again.

His eyes are filled with sadness, even the lust is a distant memory in those beautiful orbs now. “Do you truly only see me as a nuisance?” You try to look away, you don’t want to admit it. Not out loud. But his hand holds you firm, keeping you looking at him as he silently pleads for your answer.

“…I refuse to be another notch on your bedpost, Rafayel.” You shiver from the cold in your own voice, as you look down, your face pale. You admitted it, after all this time.

He paused for a long time, before he suddenly burst into a smile and held you against him. “Whatever made you think I was that kind of man, y/n?” You immediately blush at the embrace, confusion written all over your expression.

“W-what do you mean? All those parties…and those women…the magazines…” “Lies. All of it. And those women?” He leans in close and takes both your hands in his, before whispering in a husky voice. “…they only want what they can’t have.”

Your blush deepens at his confession, and you can’t look away anymore. “Y/n…I’m going to kiss you now. And if you don’t want that…I will respect your decision.” He pauses for a long time, both your faces are only centimeters apart.

But before he can move, after giving you plenty of time to process, you stand on tiptoe and give him a kiss first.

This fully grown man, this confident beacon of swagger…blushes deep red, to the point that his ears become pink.

“I…see.” He grins like a madman before grabbing hold of you and peppering kisses on anything he possibly can. Your cheek? Yes. Your lips? Absolutely. Your forehead? Do you even need to ask?

You start to giggle at him, and he stops after a few minutes to simply inhale your scent and hold you. “I will never give you reason to doubt me, y/n. I promise.” He looks into your eyes with his beautiful twilit-colored ones, and he smiles as if he had just won everything he had ever wanted.

Before you can say anything, he holds out his hand. “I swear to you, I will always love you, y/n…” he makes his hand into a tight fist for a moment, a silent prayer in his mind before he opens it, to reveal a small, blue fish swimming in front of you. You gasp and look at it in awe. “It is my heart. Take it, it’s yours.”

You carefully put out your hand, and when it swims onto your palm, it dissolves into a soft glow that lingers on your skin. “The ocean says that it is true…my promise will never be broken.” You look up at him and blush. “I…don’t have anything that special for you, Rafayel.” You look a little sad, as you say it.

He holds out his pinkie. It’s so childish…but so like him. You twine your pinkie with his and smile. “Don’t ever break this promise, then. I’ll be watching.” He says and gives you a little smirk. You nod seriously, but then can’t help but let the giddiness in your heart overwhelm you.

The months of fighting with your innermost thoughts might not be over, but you were no longer alone. If you had reason to fear, you knew, deep down, he would tell you the truth. He wasn’t a player, he wouldn’t betray you. He wouldn’t do something like that just for a one night fling.

After all that, you’re finally relaxed. You let him lead you to the sofa and sit down to let him kiss you more, and you return the affection in kind.

The kisses are soft, loving. He kisses your eyes, your nose, your chin. He kisses the top of your head, your hands, anything you’ll give him. You kiss his knuckles, then his lips, and his cheek. He bends down closer to let you kiss his forehead, then you start to trail down and before you know it he’s stolen your lips for a deep kiss.

His hand finds its way into your hair as you slowly climb onto his lap. The kiss deepens and his tongue is now exploring your mouth as you let out a soft moan. This. This is what you’ve been craving. You just wanted to hide somewhere safe from this, because even now, it feels dangerous…like a burning inside you that will never extinguish. It’s scary, but exhilirating.

When his other hand grabs hold of your ass again, you gasp and pull back to look into his eyes. “…Do you... want this? I can stop…” he blushes as he looks away. You can tell it would be a huge undertaking for him to stop now, but he would. For you.

So when you pull him by the back of his neck in for another deep, searing kiss, he knows. His hands no longer hesitate, as he fervently grabs hold of you and forces you to straddle his lap, then going under your shirt to play with your bare breasts.

You let out a moan into the kiss as you grind against him, already back on the edge, your want and lust taking over reason as your hands wrap around his biceps to steady yourself as you purposefully grind against his ever-hardening member, as it strains against his slacks.

He groans and pulls away from the kiss to gasp for air. He sucks in a sharp breath when you lean down to start licking his exposed collarbone. “Y/n…” he starts to buck his hips up against your dampened crotch, your pajama shorts soaked now as you are completely unwound from your inhibitions now.

The alcohol has mostly worn off, and all that remains is a hunger and longing that won’t be saited by just one round. You stop to look at his eyes. Yours narrow against his wide and curious ones, as you suddenly grind down and gasp. “I’m going to-ahhh…ride you for the rest of the day, Raf…are you ready?”

He lets out a loud groan and holds your hips still against him. “Nnnnnooot if you keep going at this pace, my love….” Your heart flutters at the pet name and you chuckle. “Then do you want to take the lead…my love?” He smirks and turns a bit so he can push you down onto the sofa.

You blush and quietly look up at him, as he hovers over you. “You know…the last few times I’ve seen you…it’s been driving me crazy. Your smell…your eyes…everything has become even more beautiful…” You try not to chuckle, but a little giggle escapes anyways. “Rafayel…there’ll be plenty of time for romance later…right now…” Your eyes darken and you fix him with a stare that could make a saint go into heat. “…I need you to fuck me.”

He lets out a growl as he buries his face into your neck, inhaling your wanton scent as he starts pulling your shorts to discover no panties. He pauses to smirk and dips a finger into your slit to feel how wet you are. “Could this…all be for me?” His breath still tickling your neck as you gasp.

“M-maybe…” your blush reaches your neck as he finishes tugging your shorts off, exposing your slick folds to the cold air of your living room, the light of the setting sun filling it with radiance, and delivering a halo around the both of you.

You let out a moan when he slips his fingers inside to make sure you’re loose enough for him, as he props his other elbow on the back of the sofa. He looks down at you as you writhe and make beautiful, sensual sounds under his diligent ministrations.

He can’t be bothered to smirk or feign confidence, as he slips his fingers out to lick the juices off them. “Good girl…so wet for me…so ready for my hard cock…” Once he finishes sucking his fingers clean, he moves to remove his pants, the large tent strains against the expensive fabric as he lets out a sigh of relief upon release.

When he slips out of all his clothes, just tossing his shirt on the floor with his pants and boxers, he sees you’ve followed suit with your shirt. His cock is a beast, which you would have never suspected with your curious glances in the past. Your blush reaching the tops of your breasts as he stares for a moment in the dazzling sunset pouring in.

The pause breaks the spell for a moment, and you tilt your head. “…Rafayel?” He snaps back and immediately pulls you by your thighs to him. “I swear I’ll eat your sweet cunt out many, many times tonight…but first…” He slides the head of his cock against your folds. “My master made a request of me…”

“M-master?” You gasp and let out a moan, but the word still feels slightly foreign. But he groans as he presses into you slowly before he can answer the unspoken meaning. “Y-yes…R-raf…” “Fffffuck y/n, you’re…s-so tight…”

He takes his time to settle inside, every inch of him buried within as he pants, all his focus is on making sure he doesn’t cum right that moment. It felt like it had been centuries, and he was like a teenager with his first time again.

So when you shift to get comfortable suddenly, he groans loudly, and you gasp as he holds your hips down to still you. His hands are firm, strong, as he starts to slowly move. Setting an agonizingly slow pace, as he’s filled you to near bursting with his throbbing heat.

You’re suddenly so close after only a few minutes of this slow pace, every full stroke brushing your sensitive nub, the sounds of your slick cunt sucking him in or reluctantly releasing him again and again turning you on so much. Your hands find their way to his forearms, gripping them urgently. “R-raf…s-so close…”

He hears your words through the deep haze of his concentration, and he decides to give you your dearly needed release finally. He stays seated fully inside, as he releases one of your hips to start rubbing your already tingling clit.

You try to bite onto your fist to hold back a scream as your orgasm finally hits you, but he grabs your hand before you can cover your mouth. You can’t muffle enough of it, as his name falls from your mouth again and again, gasping, screaming, shuddering, as your back arcs and he starts to thrust into you, helping you to ride out this elusive high.

“Fuck y/n, you’re taking me so good…you’re so beautiful, f-fuck I wanna make you cum so much…” he keeps thrusting, lost in the sight of you coming undone on his cock in the waning light. His thrusts get more intense as he gets close, his moans and whimpers fill the room as yours finally die down, your walls twitching and sticky around him as he increases the tempo.

“Raaaaffff…” his name a happy sigh as your high leaves you in the decadent afterglow of your first time with the one you’d longed for. So when he starts to cuss and say your name over and over again, like a chanted prayer, you’re overcome with a swelling feeling of affection in your heart.

This man is coming undone because of you, this man who so many wish they could possess, is giving himself to you and you alone.

“Fuck y/n…c-can’t…s-stop!!” His pace becomes erratic as his hips shiver, and he starts to chant your name under his panting breath in earnest, as he stares at you with his fucking gorgeous eyes, the last rays of sunset catching in them and entrancing you as he finally hits his limit.

“C-can…I cum…m-master…” his eyes are dark and pleading as he begs, his hips still thrusting into you as you let out little gasps and moans from the intensity. Without hesitation, you clearly say. “Cum for me, my pet.” He groans loudly as that releases him, he slumps a little to thrust finally in and out, as you feel his warmth spread inside. “F-fuck…y/n…” he finally finishes after the sunlight fades to darkness, and he falls forward to collapse on top of you.

You gently run your fingers through his beautiful purple hair, the darkness not changing how much you adored the color, as both of you let your breaths steady again. “…Good boy…” You gently stroke his cheek as you stare up at the dark ceiling, the streetlights barely adding any light to the room from below.

His hand grasps yours as he pulls it to him to kiss your palm, inhaling deeply. He was still drunk on your scent, your taste, your everything.

“Rafayel…is it too soon to say that... I love you?” Your voice sounds small and meek in the void that surrounds you both, lovers entwined. “…’Bout damned time, y/n.” His voice is hoarse now, a soft mumble against your breast, as he nuzzles it idly.

You both spend the night going through phases of deep romance, to wanton passion. Neither of you wanting to stop, even when dawn began to break and flood the window of your bedroom with a warm glow.

Instead you revelled in the sight of him haloed by the sun as he fucked you again, after having lost count. And he said a silent thanks to the Gods for blessing him with the sight of you beneath him, your body covered in his love bites, his kisses, and your face showing so much love and lust all at once.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

a/n: this is the longest fic I've ever written, and it wasn't nearly as kinky as I had planned initially...(I swear there was supposed to be a lot more praise and master play originally)

I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any requests, feel free to drop me an ask!

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel #fanfic #rafayel x mc #smut #lads smut #lads rafayel #fluff #fluffy fluff fluff #smutty smut smut #happy ending #neer writes

[themrsmunson]

Joseph Quinn looks after your foolish hungover self

Just Joseph caring for you and your hangover like the little love he is. 💜 This may or may not have been a need today.

First up you're sleeping in. He happily gives you whatever contact it is your body does or doesn't need right now. Space and no contact? Fine. Gentle hugs and hair strokes? Absolutely. Weighted blanket in human form? Of course.

He's ever so polite and does not mention the fact that you look like a ball sac and smell like a bin. Just does a lot mouth breathing because he loves you even in this absolute state.

He keeps on top of the housework because he knows it stresses you out. Makes sure your clothes from last night are washed and the fridge is stocked.

Any living things that need attention and looking after in your life - kids, plants, animals, parents - he's got it sorted.

Breakfast is on him and honestly whatever you want you get. If you don't want food he'll gently encourage you "Come on angel you know you'll feel better if you eat something."

He runs you a bath, perfect temp perfect amount of bubbles. He sets your favourite spotify playlist up and makes sure you have everything you need. If you want he'll stay and help you.

After the bath he makes you into a human burrito on the couch with your comfiest pillows and snuggliest blankets - maybe even your duvet. Comfy clothes obviously and no bra because fuck that when you feel like shit. Fave socks too.

He sets you up with phone on charge, a selection of beverages (one hot, one cold and fizzy, one plain water). Knows his baby needs to stay hydrated so he has whatever drinks you want on tap.

He does a corner shop run for all your favourite snacks. Man's got sweet stuff, salty stuff, crunchy stuff. Ice cream obviously too.

He gets you pain killers and stomach settlers. Makes sure you take then calls you his good girl.

TV control is yours and he'll happily watch whatever comfort shows and films you choose, even though he's seen them all countless times. He even quotes them with you and points out your favourite bits so you don't miss them. Pauses them when you nod off and quietly plays games or reads next to you.

He's never far away, you're either spooning on the couch (it's a big couch ok), or you're lying with your head in his lap. Either way he's giving you little gentle head scratches and soft kisses.

He helps you choose the best photos to post and helps you edit them. Listens to you ramble on and on about your night even when you tell the same story three times or laugh hysterically at stuff he doesn't get. He just loves hearing your voice and seeing you happy.

He gets your favourite takeaway for tea and makes sure to order extras so you have leftovers for tomorrow's lunch.

At bedtime he helps you upstairs and you find he's stripped the bed and put fresh bedding on.

You're feeling loads better so you have loads of lovely sex.

The End.

#joseph quinn #eddie munson #joseph quinn fluff #fluffy fluff fluff #hungover #tlc #partnerlookingafteryou #joseph x y/n #joseph x reader #joseph x you

[xo-bug-ox]

OKAY OKAY I GOT ONE.

Lemon x Reader fanfic, but lots of cuddling because that's all I can think of and because WE NEED THAT.

maybe use his actual name if ya want. - anon 🍋

THANK YOUU!! And we do need that. We need that so bad. So does he.

Early Mornings

Lemon x Reader

Warnings: none that I’m aware of!!

The sun shone through the window onto the couch where you’d decide to curl up with your book, the air was still and calm. You’d woken up early unable to get back to sleep with the way your lover was snoring next to you. Heavy footsteps came from the other side of the room, “what’re you doing up?” Lemon yawned leaning against the doorway, you peaked over at him, “you were snoring again” you hummed. He scoffed and took a seat next to you, “you love it”

“Love is certainly a word, don’t know if it’s the one I’d use but it’s a word” you mumbled hiding the smile on your face, Elliott laughed a little turning to face you “you cheeky little thing” he smirked pulling you into a hug. You giggled couldn’t help but laugh squirming around as he pulled you closer to him, “Stop! I’m trying to read!” You smiled. Lemon begun to litter kisses all over your face abs neck, your face was flushed. He pulled you back allowing you to relax once again. “I’m so tired” he moaned relaxing back onto the sofa.

Your arms were draped over Lemon nodding in agreement, “I don’t know about you but I’m going back up to bed, I need at least another hour” Elliott groaned as he stood up, he turned to look at you awaiting to see if you were joining him. “Do you promise not to snore?” You asked looking up at him. Elliott laughed before thinking for a moment, “I cant promise you anything” he smiled reaching his hand out for you. You took it standing up, “god I’m exhausted”

The two of you made your way back to your bedroom, Lemon flopped down onto the bed waiting for you to join him. Gently you sat by him sliding under the covers, he pulled you closer wrapping his arms around your waist, “god I want to hold you like this forever” he smiled kissing your forehead. You hummed in response eyes closed as he slowly drifted to sleep in his arms.

#lemon x reader #x reader #fluff #bullet train fanfic #bullet train 2022 #bullet train lemon #Elliott edwards #elliott edwards x reader #bullet train lemon x reader #fluffy fluff fluff #lemon fluff #I’m so tired #it’s nearly 2am man #I’ve got writers block #screaming crying throwing things #asks #fluffy #i love writing fanfic #bullet train

[superbattrash]

Superbat: Rainy Days

hi, hello, hi

I wrote a thing to get back into writing. It’s for @superbatlvr1 <3

remember that scene with Aragorn in LOTR where he comes through the door all dripping wet? well, I was imagining bruce like that when it started raining on my walk the other day, so. yeah. ENJOY :D

Clark feels like hell. His body is aching in places he didn’t even know it was possible to ache. Granted, Superman doesn’t come home with aching joints most days so it’s not something he’s an expert in but today isn’t most days. Today is another one of those days where Clark wonders where the hell Lex keeps getting kryptonite from. At this point he’s suspecting that he produces it himself, but Bruce has assured him that Lex doesn’t have the technology to do so. Clark trusts Bruce’s word, especially when it comes to kryptonite. He’s the leading expert on it, and while that might’ve made Clark nervous when they first met, now he’s just grateful he has someone in his corner who cares enough about him to learn everything there is to know about the crystal.

Clark knows he should’ve called the League or even just Wally or Bruce, someone close by who isn’t deadly allergic (Wally’s phrasing) to the glowing green rock Luthor has been wielding around like a madman tonight. It turned out alright though, no casualties, and while Lex isn’t in captivity, he’s on the run. For now that’s all Clark can be grateful for as he moves around his apartment slowly. He barely made it back to his place what with the small crystals still embedded in his back. The pouring rain didn’t help either, making it even harder to fly. He was hit in the back - the back! Luthor is getting more unhinged with every battle - with a large piece but managed to pull most of it out. Key words: most.

He feels weak as he roams around in his kitchen for his favorite mug. It’s the one his Ma got him for his twentieth birthday, the one that says “I deserve a medal but all I got was this mug”, or well. It used to say that, now most of the writing is gone (medal and mug is still mostly visible as both words were painted in large glittery blue letters) but the mug is still his favorite. There’s a soft scraping sound and he tilts his head to the side to focus on the sound. The rain pouring down outside is making it hard to hear anything and it doesn’t help that his powers are muted with the kryptonite still in his skin. He shrugs - instantly regretting it as the movement of his back has the small shards move around - and goes about making his coffee. It’s probably nothing. He knows he wasn’t followed. Weakened or not, he would never risk exposing his identity.

As he adds a few spoons of sugar to his coffee, the sound returns. Louder this time. Like hinges protesting under the weight of something. Clark puts his mug down silently and walks to his bedroom. He peeks inside, trying to figure out where the noise comes from. He may not have been followed but he does have a few acquaintances who like to drop by his bedroom window every now and then. Mostly it’s one or more of the bat kids or their dad looking for information, but they usually have the decency to call first or at least knock on the glass before sliding it open.

It’s the well-known sound of his window opening that has Clark step into his bedroom - a burglar wouldn’t be so bold, and they probably wouldn’t go to the fifteenth floor of the building first. He nearly drops his jaw at the sight that greets him. He expected- well, he doesn’t really know what or who he expected but Bruce Wayne hauling himself through his window soaking wet was not it.

While Bruce coming to his apartment isn’t unheard of, he has never showed up like this. He’s not in his suit - or no, he is, but not the one he’s usually in when he invades Clark’s personal space. He’s in one of his fine Italian ones, his white shirt drenched and see-through. He’s forgone the undershirt tonight, Clark notes dazedly. His expensive shoes are scratched because he’s had to crawl up the broken fire escape (that was the noise Clark couldn’t identify, he realizes), which is nearly impossible when he’s not using his grapple. There’s no utility belt that goes well with silk and fine cotton. It would be impossible for anyone else to come up the side of the building, but of course nothing is impossible for Batman. It isn’t Batman who’s here to see him though, is it?

The man perched in his window isn’t the dark and looming figure usually hidden behind thick lenses and a led lined cowl. There’s no voice modulator, no military grade boots dirtying his windowsill, no Kevlar protecting the strong torso moving rapidly as he breathes. This is Bruce Wayne, wet hair falling over his forehead into his eyes, his cheeks flushed, and his breathing labored. His eyes are just as sharp in and out of the cowl though, although Clark rarely gets the chance to see him like this. Bruce doesn’t come into his home just to say “hi” like any other friend would, he’s only ever here when there’s an emergency.

Clark isn’t sure he can take another after the evening he’s just had. He can’t very well turn Bruce away when he looks like a drowned rat. Or, you know, if he was anyone else, he’d look like a drowned rat. Bruce looks like one of those models being sprayed with water to look extra sensual. Clark has had fantasies start exactly like this. He needs to redirect his thoughts. Now. Before he does or says something stupid.

“What are you doing here?” he asks in leu of a greeting. He knows Bruce won’t respond to it even if he made an effort to say his ‘hi’ and ‘how are you’s. At least Batman wouldn’t. Clark isn’t exactly sure how to act in a situation like this.

“Where is it?” Bruce asks gruffly as he pulls himself all the way through the window. He’s dripping water onto the floor. Clark wonders for a second if he should install a rug of some sort underneath his window; it’s the only entrance any of the bats will use, after all.

“Where is what?” he asks in return. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t forgotten to hand anything over to Bruce but at this point he wouldn’t be surprised if Bruce asked him for his favorite mug. His behavior is odd, and Clark is almost certain it isn’t just the kryptonite in his back talking. He always feels a little woozy after prolonged exposure.

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not- what are you talking about?” Clark has found that being direct both in your messages and your confusion is the easiest way to handle Bruce. Anything else always ends up with them arguing and he really does not have the mental energy for another fight, verbal or not.

“The kryptonite. Where is it?” Bruce asks, annoyance very clear in his voice. Like Clark should’ve known from the start that that’s why Bruce is even here.

Oh. The kryptonite. Bruce is in Metropolis in a fancy suit. Of course, he’s seen the fight go down. He never misses anything, whether or not he’s in the city to be honest, so Clark shouldn’t be surprised he’s here. Although he isn’t sure why exactly he is here – if he’s seen the fight, he’s seen that Clark removed the kryptonite barely a second after it pierced his skin.

“It’s gone, I got it out,” he reassures Bruce. Maybe he didn’t see the fight but only heard about it from whoever he was with. Who has he been with?

“All of it?” Bruce asks and he’s crossing his arms over his chest in that way that tells Clark he already knows the answer to his own question.

“What?” Clark squeaks, very intelligently.

“You were slow.”

“Excuse me?”

“Slower,” Bruce amends. “I saw you. You were moving slower than usual.”

“So? Can’t a guy have an off day?” Clark says, a little defensively. He’s not in a great mood and he did win, so he doesn’t know why Bruce has to come by just to poke his nose in where it doesn’t belong. He won, Luthor is on the run, and nobody got hurt. That’s what matters, right?

“Not you. Never you,” Bruce says instantly with such conviction Clark can’t find anything to say in response. Because Bruce isn’t talking about Superman, he’s talking about him. Just Clark. And Bruce sounds… worried. Which in turn makes Clark’s heart beat a little faster.

“Where is it?” Bruce repeats and Clark sighs. He might as well give up now.

“Middle of my back,” he says quietly.

“Let me see,” Bruce demands as he steps closer. He’s already reaching out, but Clark takes a step back. There’s no reason for Bruce to worry like this, he’s fine.

“I got most of it out, the rest usually-” he starts but Bruce frowns as he interrupts.

“Usually? Has this happened before?”

Oops. Sometimes Clark wonders how he’s ever made it through the world as long as he has with his big mouth. He needs to remember to phrase things correctly. It’s not his fault his brain never works properly when Bruce is nearby. Batman is one thing, Batman means work and missions and Justice League, but Bruce… Bruce just means that Clark gets tongue-tied.

“Nothing a good scrub brush in the shower can’t fix,” he tries.

“That sounds painful,” Bruce comments.

“It is.” There’s no need to lie to Bruce, he’d be able to tell anyway. Clark swears the man has to have a lie detector built into his own skull. Or maybe he is actually meta and that’s his power. Mind reading. Wouldn’t that be something. It would’ve saved Clark a lot of sleepless nights if Bruce could’ve just seen straight through his head.

“Let me see,” Bruce repeats. His voice is softer this time but just as unyielding. He won’t leave before he gets his way. As per usual.

Clark sighs but relents. It is quite uncomfortable with kryptonite shards in his back, and he knows he should get them out as soon as possible. He did change out of his uniform before going into his apartment building, but it was with great difficulty, so when Bruce reaches for the hem of his shirt, he doesn’t argue. He does, however, flinch a tiny bit when the fabric snatches at the shards in his back.

“Got most of it out, huh?” Bruce says dryly.

“You don’t have to be mean about it,” Clark mutters as he tries not to pout too much. While Bruce may be a tad harsh with his words, his hands are careful and gentle as he pries Clark’s shirt off. Clark is suddenly glad he didn’t get his jacket on as well; he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle Bruce undressing him for longer than a few minutes. He’s very, very close and he may be looking at Clark like he’s a specimen to experiment on, but he is still very much right next to Clark’s naked chest. His hands are cold, but his breath is warm, and Clark isn’t sure if it’s the kryptonite or Bruce’s proximity but he’s getting dizzy.

Bruce notices right away, because of course, he does. He’s Batman.

“Sit down,” he says, and Clark does as he’s told. He’d rather sit on his bed than end up fainting in Bruce’s arms. There’s the added benefit of not having to look at him too and Clark is grateful for it. He’s not sure why but looking at Bruce’s face like this, his hair a mess, his cheeks red, his eyes focused entirely on Clark… it’s suffocating and not inherently in a bad way.

It’s probably the kryptonite.

“Tweezers?” Bruce asks. He’s standing a few feet away, looking around the bedroom and as he does every time Bruce is in this room, Clark has a few moments of panic. Is there something in his bedroom that will reveal his feelings for Bruce; is there anything he should feel embarrassed about?

“I thought you were prepared for everything,” Clark says instead of letting his eyes dart around the room. He’s dizzy enough as it is, he doesn’t need the added stress of trying to figure out if Bruce likes his bedroom or not. Not that it would matter, obviously.

“Not in this suit I’m not,” Bruce counters with a raised eyebrow.

“Right,” Clark mutters. It’s not the first time he wonders, but this time he wonders aloud: “Where were you anyway?”

“Charity Gala,” Bruce says simply. Clark vaguely remembers Lois talking about how annoying it was going to be to cover the event and nods.

“How did you get out of that?”

“Bruce Wayne has a habit of disappearing with a beautiful lady on his arm whenever he pleases, no matter the occasion,” Bruce says with a shrug. He says it so nonchalantly, like it’s something easy, something he says a lot. It probably is. Bruce Wayne is a solid cover, built up and twisted to perfection over the years.

“Ah.” Clark pointedly ignores the stab of pain in his chest. Bruce isn’t his in any capacity. He’s just Clark’s friend. He shouldn’t be jealous. Still, there’s a small part of him that can’t help but preen at the thought of Bruce leaving some supermodel stranded in the rain. The thought instantly has him feeling guilty – has Bruce really left someone in the rain just to come check on him? He wouldn’t be that rude. He’s probably booked a fancy hotel room and she’s waiting on him right now. The pain in Clark’s chest increases. He wonders what excuse Bruce has used to be able to leave her by herself.

“Now, tweezers?” Bruce repeats when Clark doesn’t say anything else.

The sound of his voice jostles Clark out of his thoughts and he fights back a blush. He’s making things up in his mind instead of asking Bruce, which he knows is stupid. Almost as stupid as getting jealous over it.

“Bathroom,” Clark mutters even as Bruce is on his way in there. “Second-”

“Second drawer on the right,” Bruce finishes for him as he emerges from the bathroom with the tweezers in hand.

“Am I that predictable?”

“I’m that good.”

And how can Clark argue with that?

“Stay still.” Bruce’s voice is gentle but firm, just like his hands. He braces one hand gently on Clark’s back as he leans closer to the wound to inspect the damage. It can’t be that bad because there’s no disappointed sigh or horrified gasp, which is how Clark has come to figure out how gruesome an injury is, whether it’s kryptonite or not.

Clark tilts forward just a bit to be able to rest his elbows on his thighs. It gives Bruce more room to work but he still shuffles onto the bed. Clark doesn’t comment on how Bruce is getting his sheets drenched. He doesn’t think it’d be polite to point out when Bruce is quite literally pulling kryptonite out of his back. He’ll worry about the bedsheets later.

Or maybe he won’t, because he can suddenly feel Bruce’s breath on his naked skin and it’s all he can do not to whimper. It’s nowhere near how he usually imagines them being close – Bruce is still fully dressed for God’s sake – but that somehow just makes it that more intimate. Bruce is on his bed, careful not to let his shoes touch the sheets, Clark notes, and he’s bent over Clark’s back, hands sliding over his skin, and Clark… Clark has a difficult time trying to breathe properly.

“I didn’t, by the way,” Bruce says suddenly as he plucks another piece of kryptonite out of Clark’s back. He doesn’t elaborate and Clark has no idea what conversation he thinks they’re having. He can’t think of anything he’s said that matches that answer.

“Didn’t?” he asks, thankful that his voice is even.

“Leave with anyone,” Bruce clarifies.

“Oh,” leaves Clark’s mouth before he can think better of it. He even straightens a little and gosh, how the hell has he ever been able to keep a secret from anyone? He’s an absolute mess whenever Bruce is involved. He supposes he should be happy Bruce doesn’t work at the Daily Planet. Clark would’ve outed himself in minutes.

Bruce’s free hand shoots up to grab at his neck and Clark has never been so still in his entire life. Bruce doesn’t say anything, but he does push gently at Clark’s neck to get him to lean forward again, just an inch, before he lets go. Clark wants his hand back even as his neck burns where Bruce has touched him.

“It would be awkward leaving them alone in the rain,” Bruce continues as if Clark hasn’t just had a bodily reaction to his earlier words.

“Right,” Clark says just to say something. He can’t very well tell Bruce that he was thinking the exact same thing only moment ago. He tries to focus on the tweezers digging into his back, but the more shards Bruce removes, the less his injury hurts.

Bruce is meticulous as he is with anything he does. He works quickly but carefully and as he usually is when he’s concentrating, he’s being very quiet. Clark wants to start fidgeting but he knows it’ll make Bruce’s work even harder. The silence has Clark’s brain work in overdrive but the steady breathing behind him keeps him calm enough to be able to think.

He could just tell Bruce now. It would probably be easier this way, without having to look him in the eye. Just a quick ‘hey, I like you’. Ripping the band aid off without having to see the shock on Bruce’s face. Or even worse the resignment because he already knows and wishes Clark wouldn’t have told him directly.

Clark has never been good with prolonged silences.

“Bruce?”

“Yes?” Bruce stills his hands as he answers. He sounds almost… apprehensive which makes Clark swallow thickly. With his saliva goes his courage. The confession sinks to the bottom of his stomach.

“Thank you,” he says instead. “For doing this.”

There’s a hesitation almost in the way Bruce starts moving again but Clark isn’t sure if he’s just imagining things because he just chickened out. Again. It’s not the first time they’ve been alone, and he’s been tempted to just confess. He always backs out though. Bruce’s friendship is worth too much to risk ruining it.

“You’re welcome,” Bruce says, and it sounds wrong in his mouth. Too polite. Too stiff.

Clark would rather get a lecture than a polite answer. He tries to twist his head discreetly but even Superman can’t dislocate his neck. He doesn’t have to wait long before Bruce is done removing the kryptonite, but he moves off the bed instantly and walks to the bedroom. Clark can still feel the kryptonite in the room. Bruce puts the tweezers back and folds the kryptonite shards into one of Clark’s hand towels. He doesn’t explain why he’s keeping it, but Clark trusts him. He’d rather Bruce have it than Luthor, and it’s not like they can just flush the things down the toilet.

Bruce barely spares him one glance, which isn’t unusual, but something still feels off. Then again Bruce probably should get back to his charity gala, or maybe he’s just tired. Either way it’s not like he’d stay for coffee even if Clark offered. Should he try anyway?

As Bruce puts a foot onto the windowsill, Clark can’t help but say: “You could just use the front door.”

“What excuse would Bruce Wayne have to leave this building at this time of night?” Bruce asks as he twists to look at Clark.

“Ah.” Right. Bruce Wayne, the image. Not someone who can be associated with someone like Clark. Sometimes Clark curses the whole superhero thing. He may have never gotten up the courage to ask out Bruce Wayne if they weren’t Superman and Batman, but at least it would’ve been less complicated.

“Stay safe,” he says instead of voicing any of his thoughts.

Bruce blinks at him – it always reminds Clark of a cat when he does that slow blink of his – and then gives him a jerky nod before he’s out the window without another word. Very Batman of him.

Clark doesn’t close the window after him, doesn’t even move for a solid minute. Tonight would’ve been the perfect time to tell Bruce how he feels. They were alone, the setting felt private but not suffocating. But of course, he chickened out again. At this point he’ll just have to accept that Bruce doesn’t feel the same way – there’s no way he’s not noticed Clark’s feelings by now, if he can take one look at a TV screen and deduce that Clark is more hurt than he lets on. Clark sighs and finally turns from the window. At least the weather suits his mood just fine. He reaches for the bathroom door when that noise comes again. The noise that means-

Bruce is much less gracious this time. His jacket snatches on one of the latches of Clark’s window but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s even more drenched than before, as if he’s just been standing outside in the rain this entire time. Has he?

“Enough,” he growls, and Clark instinctively takes a step back when he approaches. He has no idea what Bruce is talking about, but he doesn’t have much time to figure it out, much less open his mouth to ask. Bruce’s aura takes up the entire bedroom and Clark has a hard time breathing.

Cold hands find the sides of his face and then he’s pulled forward until his lips smash into Bruce’s. It’s nowhere near as gentle as Clark has been imagining their first kiss – and he’s been imagining it a lot – and Bruce is dripping all over his floor, his wet hair sliding against Clark’s skin as he changes the angle of their faces. It’s wet and cold and full of teeth.

It’s perfect.

Bruce’s tongue is warm against Clark’s lips, a startling contrast to the rest of him, and it doesn’t take Clark more than a second to open his mouth. Bruce tastes faintly of bitter champagne – Clark knows he doesn’t drink more than one glass, even if he’s not going on patrol – and mint. He’s been chewing on mints again, which means he hasn’t eaten dinner tonight. It takes Clark approximately an eighth of a second to realize these things and then his mind is blank. He can smell Bruce’s cologne even through the heavy scent of rain clinging to his skin. The strong hands on his face slide to cup his jaw, guide his mouth, press them even closer. There’s a slight desperation to Bruce’s movements.

Bruce’s suit clings to Clark’s skin where he is leaning close. It’s cold but not unpleasant, especially not when Clark can feel Bruce’s warm body underneath the soaked layers. He wonders briefly what it would take to convince Bruce to stay, maybe take a shower together. What it would take to force Bruce into one of Clark’s plaids or even one of his sweaters. He rumbles deep in his chest at the thought of seeing Bruce in his clothes.

The sound seems to snap Bruce out of whatever trance he’s been in, and he takes a step back. He keeps his hands on Clark’s face though. His cheeks are more flushed than before and something sweet and happy settles in Clark’s stomach.

“Don’t do something so idiotic again,” Bruce grumbles. He’s slightly out of breath. Clark tries to smother a smile. It’s not really working. “Don’t take stupid risks.”

“I won’t,” he agrees easily.

“Call me if this happens again,” Bruce demands as he finally lets go of Clark’s face. He’s looking straight into Clark’s eyes, like he’s trying to prove something. To himself or to Clark, Clark isn’t sure, but he revels in getting to stare into Bruce’s beautiful eyes without the cowl in the way.

“Okay,” he says, grin finally breaking through on his face. Bruce frowns at him, but it’s more fond annoyance than anything, Clark can tell. It’s a look he’s very familiar with, although it’s never been this soft on Bruce’s face before.

“Good.”

Clark isn’t sure what possess him, but before Bruce can turn around again, he opens his mouth and spits out the first thing on his mind: “Can I call you even if it doesn’t happen?”

Bruce seems slightly surprised, but he doesn’t look unhappy. In fact, if Clark isn’t mistaken, there’s a slight hint of smile on his lips. He walks towards the window and for a second Clark is afraid he won’t answer at all.

“Yes,” Bruce finally says, the smile fully on his face now. He’s out the window before Clark can say anything else but that’s okay. He’ll just call him tomorrow. Or maybe earlier than that, when Bruce is home at the manor. He’s allowed to do so now, after all.

#misha writes #superbat #superbat fanfiction #Superman/Batman #superman x batman #clark kent/bruce wayne #clark kent x bruce wayne #fluffy fluff fluff

[grey-sides]

For @chrisbitchtree who may need a touch of fluff after your dentist appointment today!!

What started out as begrudging friendship from being in the same place at the same time has since evolved into actual, real friendship. Billy likes Steve and it's for more than just his good looks. He's funny without realizing it and smarter than he gives himself credit for.

And he cares. A lot more than Billy's used to.

Steve just tends to be very focused on the people he cares about. He likes to check up on people. He likes to stop by for random visits and takes people on car rides just because he can.

It's still a lot for Billy in many ways. He's not used to unexpected visitors or someone asking him to go out on a Thursday evening drive, just to see the town.

And he's definitely not used to being invited over where there won't be a ton of people. Sure, Billy's been invited to plenty of parties, but small gatherings of just a few friends? That's new.

It's...nice. Robin is really smart and she talks enough to fill a whole room, which is helpful when Billy just wants to take it all in. Nancy's less of a priss than Billy thought, though she could still stand to be less serious. Eddie's a fan of metal and he's shameless about his love for life, something Billy's almost jealous of. Jonathan has finally gained a personality since moving across the country and Billy can halfway stand him. Argyle's his favorite new person though, he reminds Billy of California and warm beaches.

And Steve is- he's Steve. He's thoughtful, he's rude, he's nasty when he wants to be. He's breathtaking and the stories about him from Tommy a million years ago feel more real than ever before.

He's warm when Billy leans into his space. He draws everyone's attention. He's charismatic. He's dramatic. He's a goof and a dork and he's Billy's best friend and Billy loves him dearly.

When their little shindig wraps up, after Jonathan has left with Nancy and Argyle, and Robin's mom has come from her. Eddie's long gone too, off to meet Chrissy or something and it's just the two of them, Steve walks Billy out to his car.

A new Stingray. Well, new to Billy and a pretty cherry red with white racing stripes. It's his new pride and joy. It terrifies him to sit behind the wheel.

"I parked like twenty feet from your front door," Billy teases Steve, turning to him and leaning up against his driver's door.

Steve shrugs, shoves his hands in his pockets. His profile shines in the lights off the garage. "Just wanna make sure you get to your car safe."

Billy's teeth catch on his lower lip for just a moment. He smirks, looks away from Steve. He chuckles a little and nods. "You're alright, Harrington."

Steve smiles back at him, takes a small step back. "Drive home safe, okay?"

Billy nods again, watches Steve for just a moment. He takes a step forward, darts a glance around Steve's quiet neighborhood and leans in.

He kisses Steve softly. Softer than either of them have probably ever been kissed. One of Steve's hands lands on his side and Billy can't believe how warm it is through the fabric of his denim jacket.

Steve chases him for a second kiss when he pulls back. He sighs softly, licks against Steve's lower lip and his eyelashes flutter.

"Goodnight, Steve."

Steve pulls back, watches Billy with a small smile. "Yeah, goodnight, Billy."

He waits in his driveway while Billy pulls out and waves goodbye to him. Billy doesn't think he would mind Steve walking him to his car every night, really.

#harringrove #greye writes #fluffy fluff fluff #i promise i would like to write something else #but i am working on my exchange fic haha #anyway #stranger things

[dontfindmerain]

just sweet fluffy silly moments with wil :] plz 🙏

UUUUUGH YES

You and Wilbur waking up next to each other, soft kisses turn into giggles and Wilbur rolls on top of you, not wanting you to get up yet. When your hands reach his side to tickle him he's laughing so hard he's crying and his face hurts from how big of a grin he has.

Finally dragging him out of bed, you get to the kettle to start some tea, Wilbur behind you with his hands on your hips and his chin on your head, pouting of course.

It's a day where neither of you have to work, so you put on some music that you know he'll love and hand him some cleaning items. You both clean the kitchen, hips swaying and singing to each other.

When the water's ready and the tea is made, the two of you head over to the sofa, cuddling up to each other. Some days you read him a book with his head in your lap and your free hand in his curls, gently scratching (he loves those days), other times you pull up a movie to watch. But today was a day where you simply sat and enjoyed each others company, talking about nothing in particular, loving smiles thrown back and forth.

<3

#mosslovestherain #moss writes #moss answers <3 #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur x reader #wilbur x you #anon hellooooo #im in such a soft mood rn #fluffy fluff fluff #i loved writing this

[defectivevillain]

meeting the squad

pairing: rosa santiago x reader

reader’s pronouns: he/him

When you walk into the precinct for the first time, intending to bring Rosa lunch, you’re nearly bowled over within the first few seconds of walking in. You just barely manage to hold onto your food whilst dodging a moving projectile in the form of a police officer. 

“Shoot, sorry,” the brown-haired officer grins sheepishly. Judging from his rather childish energy and messy desk, you think he must be Jake Peralta. You wave him off and head over to Rosa’s desk, but you don’t quite make it before you’re stopped by Jake again. “You’re here to see Rosa?”

You’re not sure what Rosa’s comfort level is in terms of revealing your relationship, so you answer the question vaguely. “Yeah. Just had to bring her something.”

“Hey,” an all too familiar voice sounds. You turn around, only to find Rosa standing before you. You feel a smile breaking onto your face before you can help it. You hand her the food you brought and her eye twitches, as if she’s trying not to smile.

“Oh my god,” a sudden voice interjects. A man pops up from behind Jake’s shoulders. You’re guessing that this is… Boyle. He has an excited look on his face, and you feel your heart begin to race. “You’re Rosa’s boyfriend!”

Shit. Your cover is blown. You send an apologetic glance at Rosa but, to your surprise, she doesn’t seem concerned.

“He is my boyfriend,” Rosa confirms. You’re sure your jaw is wide open. The moment she says this, everyone in the room falls silent and turns to stare at you. You grimace and Rosa notices. She pulls out her phone, taps it a few times, and looks back up to face the group. “You all have… one minute to ask him questions. Go.”

“Are you emotionally repressed, too?” A long haired brunette you recognize as Gina says. She only glances up at you for a moment, before returning her attention to her phone. “G-Hive, thoughts?”

“Not sure, actually,” you shrug good-naturedly. “Also, I think I follow you on Twitter.” This gets Gina’s attention, as she lowers her phone and looks at you with more interest. She looks you up and down—to your dismay—and nods before returning to her phone once more. You don’t bother trying to understand what that meant.

“Who’s your favorite Ninja Turtle?” Jake is nearly bouncing in his chair with excitement. A woman wearing a pantsuit- Santiago, perhaps- rolls her eyes at his question.

“Leonardo,” you answer. Jake gives you a thumbs-up and swivels around in his chair, going back to whatever he seemed to be writing before. The sergeant, Terry, asks you about when you met Rosa. The captain walks out of his office, looms in the doorway and stares at you ominously. At least, you think it’s ominous. It’s rather hard to read the man’s facial expression. You’re starting to feel a bit overwhelmed when the next question comes.

“Have you heard of-” An officer tries to ask. He has marinara stains on his shirt. He must be Hitchcock. Your presumptions are confirmed when you see him exchange a meaningful look with another man, evidently Scully.

“Nope, time’s up,” Rosa interrupts Hitchcock before he can finish his sentence. He only seems bothered by this for a few moments, before he goes back to eating a sandwich.

“Back to work, everyone,” the captain announces. You nod at him in way of apology and he raises an eyebrow before returning to work. You wave goodbye to Rosa and quickly make your exit.

You don’t see Rosa again until later that night, when you’re both in your apartment. You’re scrolling on your phone when Rosa’s voice breaks through the silence.

“Gina liked you,” Rosa mentions. You pause for a moment, before raising an eyebrow at her. Admittedly, you hadn’t expected her to say that. Moreover, you hadn’t expected Gina to tolerate you. You assumed that she hated you, from the lack of eye contact and general disinterest. Perhaps she’s always like that, though. 

“That’s high praise,” you huff out a laugh. Rosa crosses her arms over her chest.

“Gina doesn’t like anyone,” Rosa says, raising her eyebrows to signal how important that statement is. “So, yeah, it kind of is.”

The two of you discuss the occurrence earlier that day for a while. It’s more entertaining to hear Rosa’s perspective on things. Apparently, the squad was in a bit of an uproar after you left. 

“Your coworkers are really nice,” you smile, tapping your fingers against Rosa’s hand. “I can see why you like them.”

“I hate all of them,” Rosa hisses, her posture growing stiff. You know that stiffness to be related to expressions of vulnerability. Rosa hates being vulnerable. You can’t help but tease her a bit, though. 

“Sure,” you laugh. You awkwardly put an arm around the couch and, subsequently, Rosa’s shoulder. Rosa must sense your hesitation, because she rolls her eyes and tugs you closer. You kiss her on the cheek and rest your head on her shoulder, listening as she recounts the rest of her day at work. 

#Brooklyn 99 #Brooklyn 99 x reader #x male reader #x male y/n #rosa Santiago x male reader #rosa x male reader #Brooklyn 99 x male reader #fluff #fluffy fluff fluff

[leiawritesstories]

I had an idea for a Rowaelin prompt: Aelin gathers the courage to give her number to a very handsome stranger -who then messages her telling he's gay, but it was super cool that Aelin had the guts to give her number. He also has a super hot brother, who just happens to be single and he could give the brother's number to Aelin.

She then messages the brother, they start chatting and do end up on a date - and he does not disappoint, for the pine green eyes, silver hair and a body to die for are even better than what she could've hoped for

hi anon!! I love this so much hehehehe

word count: 1,946

warnings: none 

Enda’s Single Brother

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

Maybe it was the liquid courage. 

Maybe it was that she hadn’t gotten laid in seven months. 

Or maybe it was just sheer Aelin Galathynius Confidence™ that made her strut across the crowded pub and approach the tall, handsome guy leaning against the bar, purposely tripping a little to bump into him. 

“God, I’m so sorry,” she apologized, righting herself against the bar top. 

“It’s not a problem,” the guy replied, grinning at her. Yeah, he was cute. “My name’s Endymion, but everyone calls me Enda.” 

“Nice to meet you, Enda.” She shook his hand warmly. “I’m Aelin.” 

She chatted casually with Enda for a few minutes, breaking off when Elide waved at her from the table. “Shoot, my friend’s waving frantically at me, I should go see what she wants.” 

“Nice meeting you, Aelin,” Enda grinned. 

“You too.” Aelin loosed a short huff. Then she scribbled her number down on a napkin and slid the flimsy paper over to him. “I don’t want to seem pushy, but here’s my number, I’d love to keep talking.” She left before her face could erupt into flames. 

“You did it!” Elide whisper-screeched when she got back to the table, blushing a little. 

“Yeah,” Aelin agreed. “Yeah, I did.” 

“You go, girl!” Lys slapped her a high five. “Look at you, all grown up and getting hot guys to notice you.” 

“Bitch,” Aelin laughed. But she was proud of herself. 

~

Enda texted her after she got home, the message pinging on her phone. She glanced at the screen. 

>Hey, it’s Enda! 

<Hey Enda! This is Aelin

>Oh good, it worked :) 

<Glad it did 

>Okay 

>I have to admit something...

<Yeah? Go ahead!

>I...um...

>First let me say I’m really quite honored you gave me your number

>But I have to be honest, I’m gay

Well. That was not what she was expecting. 

<You should know that doesn’t make me think any less of you

>Haha thanks I just had to tell you

>Because you’re really nice and I didn’t want to ghost you

<You’re so sweet

<And it’s okay, I’m not disappointed or anything. If you have a boyfriend, though, please tell him I wasn’t trying to steal you :)

>Hahahaa actually I’m single...and so is my brother. 

>Who’s not gay.

>And is available

Aelin blinked at her phone screen. 

<Damn. I have to admit I wasn’t expecting you to offer him up

>Hey, he’s been single and grumpy for too long, he needs to go out

>Want me to send you his number? 

<...

<You know what, sure

<Why not? There’s nothing to lose

Enda texted her another number and a smiley face. 

>Just warn me when he brings you home, okay? 

<Oh my god, you little matchmaker

>That’s me ;)

Aelin heaved a deep breath as she stared at the number Enda sent her. Really, what did she have to lose? 

Nothing. 

So she added the number to her contacts as “Enda’s Single Brother” and drafted a quick introductory message. She didn’t want to send it right away, she’d rather give Enda some time to tell his brother about the woman he’d met at a bar and then given his brother’s number to. At least, she hoped Enda would warn the man he’d given his number to a woman he’d never met. He seemed like the kind of guy who’d do that. 

It took her until the next morning to work up the courage to send the message. 

<Hi, my name’s Aelin and I met your brother at a bar the other day. He seemed to think we’re both too lonely for our own good and apparently wants us to meet. Feel free to ignore this if you’re not interested, but if you are, I’d be happy to meet you. 

The text read “Delivered,” so she put down her phone and went about her Saturday, forcing herself not to think about the guy she’d just randomly texted. A few hours after she’d sent the text, her phone chimed. From Enda’s Single Brother

>Hi Aelin, I’m Rowan. Enda’s been talking about you. I can tell he thinks I’m lonely and need some company, so I can’t really blame him for giving you my number. And honestly, after hearing him sing your praises, I’d like to meet you too. 

She squealed. Actually squealed like a little girl. And then lightly slapped herself for being so giddy over a text from a guy she didn’t even know. 

<Oh thank the gods, I was beginning to think I should throw away my phone for being so forward. 

>Now that’s not necessary. Enda thinks you’re a great woman, not forward at all 

<Your brother’s way too nice. How is he still single? 

>None of us know. He says he’s “waiting for the right guy”

<Sooooo...he’s shy? 

>Pretty much, yeah

>I was serious about wanting to meet you, you know

<When’s a good time for you, then?

<My schedule’s pretty flexible, but like most adults, weekends and evenings work the best

>Okay

>I’m pretty busy during the week, how does next Friday night sound? 

<Sounds perfect

>Great! Can’t wait to meet you

<Me neither

Aelin put down her phone with a happy little grin. She had a date. In a week. And no, none of her friends were going to hear about it. She needed to surprise them somehow. 

~

Friday night, Aelin put the finishing touches on her hair and took a last look in the mirror, flicking imaginary lint off her blouse. Since it was summer, she’d opted for one of her light, sleeveless blouses paired with a denim skirt that hit just above her knees and a pair of strappy sandals. Cute, casual but not underdressed, and modest enough not to send the wrong message. She’d pulled her hair half-up in a loose bun and left the rest down and was wearing only mascara, brow pencil, and lipstick, letting the freckles sprinkled across her face show. 

She checked her phone again, making sure she’d got the location right. Rowan had texted her on and off through the week, just chatting and asking her about her favorite places in the city, as well as working out a place to meet. Eventually, they’d decided on The Staghorns Taphouse, a relatively new place they’d both been to before with friends and family and enjoyed. 

Aelin drove into town with the radio on, pumping herself up so she couldn’t get nervous for this date. It took her about fifteen minutes to get to The Staghorns, then a few more minutes to get a parking spot close by. She hopped out of her car and locked it up before heading towards the entrance, scanning the handful of people entering the place to see if she could find Rowan. He’d told her he looked almost exactly like his brother, so--

There. Silvery hair and bright pine green eyes set against tanned skin, the tall, fit man glanced around much like she was doing, probably looking for her. So she strolled up to him. 

“Rowan?” 

He’d been half-turned away from her when she approached. The bright hue of his eyes seemed almost to glow in the evening sunlight as he offered his hand, lips quirking up at the corners. “That’s me. You must be Aelin.” 

With the trace of accent he had, her name sounded absolutely gorgeous on his tongue. “That I am.” She flashed him a friendly grin. “Shall we? I don’t want to put you off, but I’ve had a bit of a day and I’m rather hungry.” 

He offered her his arm like they were in a period piece. “Let’s get you some food, then.” 

They were seated right away, much to Aelin’s surprise. “I thought the place was usually busier on the weekends,” she mused. 

Rowan flushed a little. “I...may have made reservations.” 

She laughed, squeezing his arm. “How gentlemanly of you.” 

He grinned. “Well, a friend of mine works here on the weekends as a bartender and he told me I should make reservations, so I took his advice.” 

“Ah, yeah I’d trust the employees.” 

They had a few minutes before their server approached, so they took the chance to look over the drink selection so they’d be ready when the younger guy came up to the table, introduced himself, and took their drink order. As they waited for their drinks, they made small chitchat about their day, Aelin’s introduction having provided a good starting point. Over drinks, she learned that Rowan was a sales rep at a tech company and often got what he called the “picky clients” shuffled to him because, as he delicately put it, his boss was a prick. 

“Jackass knows I practically run the department while he sits on his arse and does nothing all day,” Rowan grumbled, sipping at his beer. “Even the CEO knows I keep the place running and she hasn’t had the guts yet to fire Cairn and put someone who cares in his spot.” He sighed. “Sorry, that got a little heavy for a first date.” 

“It’s okay,” Aelin reassured him. “Hell, I have a prick of a boss too, but at least he barely ever leaves his office.” 

“Want to tell me about it?” Rowan saluted her with his drink. “I’ve heard sharing shitty work stories is a sure way to get to know your date.” 

She snickered. “First off, I’m a graphic designer, and I work with a number of big-name brands.” She rattled off a few of her recent clients. “But I swear to the gods, if this client I’m working with right now doesn’t stop breathing down my gods-damned neck, I’m going to eviscerate him.” She took a long pull of her wine. “Sorry to be so...graphic.” At that, she winked broadly. 

Rowan snorted into his beer, laughing despite himself. “That was horrible,” he chortled. 

“But funny,” she grinned. “Anyway. Cheers to shitty clients!” She tapped her glass to his. 

The evening went very well indeed, Aelin thought as she tucked her hand into Rowan’s offered one as they left Staghorns. After both venting about their respective job problems, whatever ice had lingered between them had dissipated, and they’d spent the rest of the evening talking and laughing like they’d know each other for years. And...she really liked Rowan. He was funny, in the dry sort of way that she adored, polite, a perfect gentleman, and, well, his extremely attractive looks were a wonderful bonus. 

“It’s--”

“Can I--” 

They spoke at the same time, breaking off into soft laughter. Rowan gestured at her. “Go ahead, Aelin.” 

“It seems rather forward of me, but I’d love to see you again,” she admitted. 

He grinned. “I was just going to ask the same thing. When are you free again?” 

She checked her calendar on her phone. “Well, I’m planning to work from home nest Thursday, because I do better artistically when I’ve got access to all of my supplies, so that would work.” 

Rowan glanced through his schedule. “I’ve got a half day Thursday.” His eyes twinkled at her. “So...lunch? Dinner? Something else?” 

“I know a great café down by the riverfront; they’ve got this adorable rooftop seating area.” 

“Perfect.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s a date, then?” 

“Yes indeed.” 

Aelin got home with the biggest smile on her face, grinning into the darkness of her garage like a complete idiot. Gods. One would think she was sixteen and on her very first date again, she was so giddy. But hell, she really liked Rowan Whitethorn. Only one date, and she felt herself falling. 

She’d have to remember to thank Enda for giving her his single brother’s number. 

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed!

@charlizeed

@cretaceous-therapod

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@nerdperson524

@claralady

@fireheartwhitethorn4ever

@morganofthewildfire

@rowanaelinn

@wesupremeginger

@nicolivesinbooks

@story-scribbler

@mackenzieclutt

@stardelia

@shanias-world

@mybloodrunsblue

@swankii-art-teacher

@wordsafterhours

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@violet-mermaid7

@holdthefrickup

@goddess-aelin

@rowaelinismyotp

@dealfea

@irondork

@elentiyawhitethorn

@live-the-fangirl-life

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@chronicchthonic14

@whispers-in-the-darkest-heart

@sweet-but-stormy

@hanging-from-a-cliff

@jorjy-jo

@rowaelinrambling

@thegreyj

@silentquartz

#my writing #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #fluffy fluff fluff #started writing this while waiting for my labs lol #answered prompt

[insanesanitysparks]

Strays

An AU fic where the students of Class 1-A are living through the dark ages or quirk usage and every day is a struggle to survive. Aizawa is just a simple man rescuing these kids from the darkness and adopting every stray he finds. And to hell with the people that say “you can’t save them all” because dammit! Aizawa’s certainly going to try or die trying!

#Mha #bnha #class 1-a #class 1a #Shota aizawa #dadzawa #au #protective Shota Aizawa #Fluffy fluff fluff #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #darkness to light

[camaro-and-smokes]

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Chapter 20: Can't Help Falling in Love

Tags for this chapter: No warnings, wedding fluff. See all tags for the whole fic on AO3.

All chapters on tumblr >>

Summary: And so they stood before the judge

::::::::::

The sun was shining behind white fluffy clouds, and a gentle breeze was blowing from the sea. It made the waves slowly sway to the shore and back, only to rush in a bit faster before returning again to the sea.

On the beach, a curtain was moving lazily in the wind. It was wrapped around two poles, connecting them together to mark a place for an altar. Sunflowers were tied to the poles and buckets of them were placed around the altar to mark an area where the wedding ceremony would take place.

As if on cue, the sky cleared and let the sun shine bright when Billy walked out of the hotel doors. When he saw Steve already standing on the beach with the rest of their friends and family, he stopped to take it all in.

Max glanced at her brother. "Need a tissue?" she asked knowingly, more as a statement than an actual question, already digging the pocket of her dress. "Because if you even dream of running now, I'm going to catch you and drag you to that altar. Steve's the best guy you've ever dated and you'll answer to me if you do that to him."

Billy snorted pursing his lips and took the tissue Max gave him. "I would never do that to him, I love him." When he’d stopped the tears trying to find their way out from his eyes, he looked at Max and took her hand. "Let's go, the rest of my life is waiting for me there."

Steve took a deep breath when he saw Billy looking at him from hotel doors. They'd spent the last night in separate rooms and despite it being just one night, he already missed Billy. It was always a joy to see him, but seeing him now, walking onto the beach with Max, to be wedded to him—it was something special. He looked breathtaking, even though he was wearing just jeans and a simple shirt, his hair up on a loose bun, his golden skin and hair gleaming in the sunlight. The view was instantly burned into Steve's heart and he'd cherish it until his last breath. Dustin, Steve's bestman, slipped a tissue to his hand, and he took it with gratitude.

There was no real aisle because there were no chairs but when the guests saw Steve's smile widening and looking behind them, they all turned to look. When they saw Billy and Max approach, they formed one between them.

Billy had to lower his gaze onto the bright sand even though it hurt his eyes. He had given his sunglasses to Max to hold until the ceremony was over for he wanted Steve to see his eyes when they said their vows. But worse than the sun were the tears prickling right under his skin, ones he knew he was unable to hold back the moment he met with Steve's eyes. Seeing everyone he held dear, the ones he'd known for a long time and the ones who'd become very important very quickly because they were dear to Steve, was the other reason. Yet, he glanced up as he and Max walked through the crowd. Robin was there standing next to her partner Vicky and smiling a wide smile at him and mouthing you're gorgeous. Dustin's girlfriend Emily, who was also a writer, was wiping her eyes. And of course Steve's mother Margaret, who had practically adopted Billy, smiling at him and not hiding the fact that she had clearly cried more on that morning than he had. Chrissy smiling the widest smile, and finally Eddie, who was trying to keep a straight face even though Billy could see that he, too, was overwhelmed by emotions.

And so they walked in front of the judge.

When he stopped in front of the crowd with Max, he glanced at her. She smiled and he squeezed her hand for the last time before she let go and moved to the side. Billy took a deep breath as Steve stepped next to him and took his hand. Billy looked at Steve and when he saw him smiling, his big brown eyes looking at him as lovingly as only he could, the floodgates opened.

“Hey, don't cry, gorgeous,” Steve whispered and gave Billy the slightly wet tissue he had wiped his own eyes into just a moment earlier. “We didn't even get to the good part yet.” He kissed Billy's knuckles. “Shall we?”

Billy smiled, and nodded, for words had totally escaped him.

What the judge said before the vows was just a buzz for them both, sounding just like adults speaking in the Peanuts cartoons. Steve held Billy's hand tightly and squeezed it reassuringly whenever Billy sniffled, wiping his own eyes from time to time. When it was time for the vows, the judge smiled to them both and took a step back.

“Let me just get the paper from my pocket,” Steve said and let go of Billy's hand. “I had to write it down for I knew I couldn't remember a thing when saw Billy. I was right,” he chuckled, making Billy and the guests laugh. He took Billy's hand again turning to face him, and looked at the paper. He looked up at Billy's eyes, and swallowed.

“Billy. Before I met you, for a long time my world had been in turmoil and my attention in things that really didn't matter. When I dreamed of you for the first time, and heard your laughter, it was all I could think of. When I finally met you for the first time, the person who matched the delightful sound that had bewitched me, the freckles on your face, the bluest eyes I've ever seen, the sharpest wit I’ve even encountered, everything that you are - my world turned on its axis. It was crystal clear to me from almost day one, that if I was lucky, there’d be a day I'd be standing on an altar with you. I can't put it in words how happy I am now to be here. I’m so lucky that you wanted me enough you agreed to this.”

“Of course I wanted you, you fool,” Billy mouthed silently, and laughed.

Steve smiled and continued: “You make me want to be a better person. You make me want to work less on the outside and more on the inside and give more of me and to love more.” He paused, and took a deep breath, averting his eyes from the paper, and letting it drop into the sand. “I have never loved anyone the way I love you. The love I feel for you is overwhelming and overflowing, and in its priority it has taken over everything else in my life. I want to give my everything to you every single day. No matter what waits ahead, I will be there with and for you, in sickness and in health. I want to have the family we've both dreamed of with you. And when the end comes, I want to be there with you, too."

“That's the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me,” Billy whispered only to Steve to hear, sniffling. “I don't think I can top that.”

Steve chuckled. “You're a writer. You'll do just fine.”

“Steve. The amount of love I have for you is simply ineffable. When I first met you I was sure I was living in a dream and sure that I was to wake up any moment. But I didn't. Because you weren't a dream. You were real, and you took me in as I am, with my flaws and all. I thought I had loved and been loved before, but I had never felt love so deep, so special, I have with you. You shower me with your affection every moment of every day, and you make sure I always know exactly how much you love me. Which is a lot." He paused to wipe the tears that were falling on Steve's cheek with the back of his fingers. "Maybe I could've lived a decent life if our paths had never crossed. But I'm happy they did, because without the light you shine into my life, I'd be lost in the dark. I can't imagine a life without you because while maybe we would be good alone, we're so much better together. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, to have a family with you, to grow old with you. And as you said it so beautifully, even in the end I want to be with you. I will be there, standing by your side and carrying you in return, whenever needed, in the brightest sunshine and in the darkest storm. Your love is all I want to be worthy of, every single day."

When Billy finished they were both swallowing hard.

Steve set his palm on Billy's cheek. "See, that wasn't so hard," he whispered his chin quivering.

After the ceremony, mandatory teary-eyed hugs and congratulations followed and then the wedding photos were taken on the very same beach.

"The rings?" the judge said.

Dustin handed Steve the rings. While putting the ring into Billy's finger he said the famous words of with this ring I thee wed. The platinum ring locked perfectly into the engagement ring.

Billy repeated the same with the plain platinum ring he set in Steve's finger.

"I pronounce you as wedded husbands. You may kiss," the judge said.

Steve pulled Billy into a tight hug and they kissed long and deep, their loved ones cheering and applauding around them.

When the photographer had taken enough shots to work with Steve took Billy's hand, and kissed his knuckles. "I arranged something small just for the two of us in the bridal suite...if you're interested?"

Billy chuckled. "Oh you did? Couldn't wait until evening" Billy asked with a lilt in his voice. "Why am I now surprised."

"Have I become that predictable already?" Steve grinned.

"At this pace, husband, you gotta up the Ruining Billy game quick or I'll get bored before we’ve been married even for a week."

"Well, then we should stop by the garage first to get you from thinking that."

"You want to take me for a ride?"

"Well, I do have a ride planned for you this afternoon, but not this one. Come."

They walked into the hotel garage hand in hand. Since most of the guests for the party in the evening had already arrived, it was full – of very expensive cars. They walked into the very end of the garage where two cars were parked. Steve's Merc, and another one covered with a dark gray tarp that had a massive white bow with a bouquet of sunflowers on the bonnet.

"No fucking way. You didn't," Billy gasped. “Why did you spend money on yet another car?”

"You don't even yet know what it is!"

"It's some super expensive muscle car because you know I love those."

"Well, remove the tarp and see for yourself," Steve said amused.

Billy walked to the car, and traced the shape of the bonnet and the hood with his hand. “It's low. And the shapes aren't exactly something new. Also the bonnet is too long for a 21st century car. And I have a feeling I've seen one like this before...” He looked at Steve, who had a ridiculously wide grin on his face. Billy shook his head, amused, and took the bouquet off the hood, then the bow. Then he started to pull the tarp off. “Fuck me! It’s a 70‘s Camaro! I used to have one exactly like this,” he gasped out loud as he kept pulling the tarp off the car. Once it was all exposed, he walked around it admiring the midnight blue pearl color that shined in different pearly blue shades from every angle. When he reached the trunk and saw the license plate, he stopped and looked at Steve, tears brimming his eyes. “Oh, baby,” he breathed. He took a few deep breaths to try to keep the tears from falling. Yet he failed. “She's my old car. How did you find her?”

“I have my ways,” Steve said walking to Billy and wrapped his arms around him. “Do you like it?”

Billy glanced at Steve. “Her. It's a her,” he scolded Steve playfully.

“Okay then. Do you like her new outfit?”

“She's beautiful. I assume she's fully restored?”

“Of course she is. Wanna hear how she purrs?” Steve asked, dangling the keys in front of Billy.

Billy took the keys and opened the driver’s side door. The interior was darker shade of blue than it used to be, but otherwise everything was exactly how Billy remembered it. He sat on the driver's seat, smiling his widest smile. “Man, you even had the radio restored to the original eight track!”

Steve walked to Billy and leaned to the hood with his arm. “No, actually it just looks like it. It connects to your phone with Bluetooth, and as you can see...” he said reaching down to the key and turned the power on, “you can control the songs by turning the knob that was used for searching radio stations left or right. The shop that took care of her wouldn't alter the steering wheel to add controls there, so this was the next best thing.”

Billy laughed. “This is absurd...”

“Go ahead, start her.”

Billy turned the key, and the car roared to life. He closed his eyes and lifted his hand from the wheel and pulled up his sleeve to show Steve the goosebumps hearing the engine lifted on his skin.

"So you like my little wedding present? Was it boring?”

“At least you just proved yourself not to be boring.”

“Oh, at least I'm not boring? That's all?” Steve said, mock-offended.

Billy bit his lip. “Okay, maybe you're the best husband in the world,” he mumbled.

Steve leaned further down in the car smiling a smug smile. “I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Care to repeat?”

“Wanna fuck in here?” Billy asked biting his lip seductively.

“Hey, no evading the question! Okay, sure, yes, now that you brought it up we could do that too, but I need to hear those magic words first.”

Billy leaned his head to the backrest and licked his lips. “You're the best husband in the world,” he drawled and smiled. “Happy?”

Steve smiled, and walked to the other side of the car, opening the door and sitting down.

Billy let out a laugh. “You really want to have sex here in this cramped space? On her pristine leather seats?”

“Where else?” Steve asked, brushing Billy's thigh with his hand, finally pushing it between his thighs. “Wouldn’t she be the most appropriate place to have sex for the first time as a married couple?”

“Yeah, she actually would be,” Billy moaned.

“Good. Because I told the guard to lock the garage doors and not to let anyone in for an hour once we got here. Also,” Steve whispered, took his hand away from Billy's crotch and leaned behind the driver’s seat, “I had these brought in.” He pulled out two small bottles of champagne and a small container of strawberries. “Strawberries, because they're your favourite, and something to skol with. Don't worry, it's alcohol-free."

“I was looking for something more flashy from you to start our marriage, but I’ll take this."

“You’ll take it?” Steve asked, incredulous.

“Like I said, you have to up your Ruining Billy game to keep me interested.” Billy trailed the stitches on the wheel with his fingers. “Though she’s a pretty good start,” he sighed.

Steve rolled his eyes as he opened the bottles.

Billy turned on the seat as much as he could to face Steve and leaned in, laughing. “I’m just kidding, baby,” he whispered, and pecked Steve's cheek. “You’re amazing. One of a kind. My husband.”

Steve smiled a crooked smile, and handed Billy the other bottle.

Steve raised his bottle "To us."

Billy smiled and clinked his bottle on Steve's. "To us."

#harringrove fic #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #steve x billy #billy x steve #billy hargrove needs a hug #dream a little dream of me #suometar writes #fluffy fluff fluff