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jobean12-blog · 10 months

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Perfect Kind of Trouble

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 4,566

Summary: You’re new to the neighborhood and you’ve landed a great job bartending at one of the local spots. So far it’s been a good change and things are going smoothly, that is, until Bucky Barnes, the neighborhood’s most eligible bachelor, walks into your bar and sets his sights on you.

Author’s Note: I love the idea of Bucky chasing after a girl who gives him a run for his money! Hope you enjoy! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: Lots of fluff, flirting, tension, Bucky might be a bit possessive but in a good way and he definitely goes for what he wants and that’s you, some sass in there, Bucky is protective too :) and Nat is the best wingman ever!

“Oh my god, he’s here.”

You stop drying the glass in your hand and go stiff, side eyeing your friend Nat.

“Who Nat?”

She doesn’t answer and instead slides closer to you, leaning her head toward your ear.

“Bucky Barnes.”

“Who?” you ask again, starting to crane your neck to look.

“Don’t!” she snaps then instantly softens her tone. “Just meet me in the back in two minutes and don’t make it look suspicious.”

You give her a tiny nod and go back to your work on the glasses but you can feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. You can feel his stare.

“Ok. What the hell is up with you?” you ask when you shut the door to the back room.

She’s pacing back and forth and it’s making you nervous but when she meets your eyes you relax slightly at the smile on her face.

“Bucky Barnes,” she repeats.

“Yeah? And? I have no idea who that is!”

“Of course you don’t!” she muses. “You wouldn’t know because you only moved here a few weeks ago.”

“Righttt…so, who is he?”

“Just the perfect man.”

“How do you know?”

“Everyone knows.”

You quirk your brow and cross your arms over your chest.

“Well, everyone who lives in the neighborhood,” she laughs.

“If he’s so perfect I’m sure he’s married with two point five kids, a dog and a house with a white picket fence.”

“There are no white picket fences in Brooklyn babe,” she says. “And you’d think that but he’s been a bachelor for as long as we know him.”

“Then he’s probably a player and an asshole!” you state.

“I mean sure, all the women, and men, talk about how hot he is and how much they want a shot and boy do they try but as far as I know he doesn’t date.”

“I don’t get it,” you say.

“Me neither!” she agrees. “But he hasn’t been at this bar in forever…”

“Maybe he wanted a change of scenery?” you say with a shrug.

“OR MAYBEEEEEEEE,” she starts, her grin growing. “He heard there’s a new girl in town and he’s here to see you!”

“You’re insane! And he sounds like a player to me.” you huff. “I’m going back to work. Come on, you have to point him out to me. I at least want a look.”

“I won’t need to. You’ll know who he is…”

At her wistful tone you roll your eyes, pushing open the door and walking out with determined steps.

When you hit the bar you discreetly scan the seats. You don’t see anyone that stands out, mostly just the usual crew that shows up on a Saturday night for four-dollar drafts.

A customer calls you over and you head in his direction with a smile. You’re just greeting him and taking his order when you feel that familiar heat at your back, your skin tingling.

Once you’ve got the drink order you turn toward the bar only to lock eyes with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. It momentarily stops you in your tracks and if it weren’t for Nat lightly bumping your shoulder and whispering, “told ya so,” you would stay rooted to the spot to stare.

Instead you blink several times and look away, trying to remember what drink you’re supposed to make.

When you’ve finished making it you deliver it to the customer and try to take another peek down the bar.

“I’m not taking his drink order,” Nat singsongs when she comes to stand beside you. “That’s all you.”

Your mouth falls open and you give her a glare with narrowed eyes. She just smiles brightly and sashays to the other end of the bar to take another order.

With a huff of annoyance you square your shoulders and turn toward Bucky. As you approach him his eyes light up with his smile.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

He returns your greeting and sticks his hand out.

“I’m James Barnes but you can call me Bucky.”

You wipe your hand on the towel at your side and shake his. The shock of electricity at his touch doesn’t seem to be one sided when you feel the slight squeeze from his hand. You introduce yourself, hoping you don’t come off as confused at his direct attention.

“Apparently you’re rather popular around here?”

It comes out as a question and he chuckles.

“Don’t believe anything you’ve heard,” he says with a wink.

“So what about a drink?” you ask, focusing on doing your job.

He orders and before he can say more you rush off to fix his drink. You drop it off with nothing more than a smile and move toward the next person who calls for your help.

As you’re making your next few drinks you notice Nat chatting with Bucky and you can’t help but wonder what they’re saying.

You move back and forth behind the bar, trying to ignore the feel of Bucky’s eyes, but he finally catches your attention and waves you down.

“Another?” you ask.

“Sure doll, thanks.”

While you’re pouring his drink he tries to keep you engaged.

“So Nat told me you’re new to town?”

“Yeah, moved here at the end of last month.”

“Do you like bartending better here in the city?” he asks.

You look down at the bar and scold with a single name.

“Nat.”

Bucky leans in. “Don’t be mad. She’s just trying to help me out.”

You lean in too, elbows on the bar and your head tilted his way.

“You usually need help? From what I’ve heard you can have your pick of anyone.”

At the slight scrunch of your nose he can tell you’re not saying it with a positive tone.

“Not my style. I’m pickier and right now, I need all the help I can get because I think I’m in real danger of striking out.”

His eyes drop to your lips and when they turn up every so slightly he relaxes.

“What is your type?” you ask. “Maybe I can help you out too.”

He scans you slowly and the proceeds to describe you perfectly, the tension building in the inches between you with his every word.

You steel yourself and lift your chin. “Does that usually work?”

“It’s not a line. Meant every word doll face.”

“Do you use these endearments on all the girls? I bet they love it.”

“Nuh uh,” he answers adamantly.

You nod, looking completely unconvinced.

Nat reappears at your side. “You have no idea how much I hate to interrupt this, but I need three long island iced teas at table four or they’re gonna have a hissy fit.”

You straighten yourself. “Oh sorry! Of course. I’m on it.”

You’re busy for the next forty-five minutes but Bucky never leaves his spot and every time you meet his eyes they are heavy with intention as they follow your every move. You can feel them, the heat singing every inch of your skin.

At least two women have approached him at the bar but they both walked away after a few minutes of mundane conversation and lack of interest on his part.

As much as you hate to admit it you can’t help but steal glances at him too, though you try to keep them quick and subtle.

He’s broad shouldered in the tight tee shirt he’s wearing, his biceps on full display under the stretch of the fabric and his dark hair is loose at his shoulders. His full lips are framed by a dark scruff that also covers his cheeks and is peppered with patches of gray.

Your fingers mindlessly caress the glass you’re holding before you catch yourself and look away.

You drop off another glass of whiskey with a smile and he nurses it, shooting you a cocky half smirk when he catches you staring at him. It’s like the intense silence is some sort of foreplay.

Feeling his gaze along your skin, drinking you in and driving you wild, you do your best to keep up with orders.

When things start to slow down and customers go home, you finally make your way back toward Bucky, drawn to him, despite your best efforts.

“Couldn’t avoid me anymore?”

“I wasn’t really…”

The words taper off at the sharp lift of his eyebrow.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“Apology accepted,” he smirks. “So, do you have plans when you get off?”

You don’t answer, instead fiddling with his now empty glass. He lays his hand on the bar, his fingers just an inch form yours.

“Are you really gonna ignore my question doll?” he chuckles.

His fingers slide closer and he brushes his thumb over your knuckles, gauging your reaction. You giggle at his second question and his eyes drop to your mouth as he licks his own lips.

You’re almost lost in the bubble but then the world outside comes roaring back into focus when you hear Nat yell “last call.”

“Work…I still have to work.”

His lips part on an exhale but he let’s you go.

You rush around the bar first, clearing glasses and debris before heading over to one of the tables where three guys sit in conversation.

Distracted, you lean over the table, trying not to interrupt them. But the blonde closest to you runs the back of his hand up your arm.

It makes you cringe.

“Hi there,” he says.

“Hey,” you answer coolly, shifting away from him.

One of the blonde’s friend gives you an apologetic look, scolding Rob before he hands you one of the empty glasses that’s far out of reach. You reach for it and as soon as your fingers wrap around it, Rob grabs your hips and yanks you into his lap.

You drop the glass to the floor and it shatters before you push against his chest, loudly yelling, “what the hell?”

Rob starts to speak but you’re suddenly lifted in the air and whirled around then planted gently on your feet behind Bucky’s broad back.

Bucky now has Rob’s tee shirt fisted in one hand as he gets in his face.

The bar goes silent and the next thing you hear is the low growl of Bucky’s order. “Don’t touch.”

Bucky slowly lowers Rob’s feet to the floor, keeping a careful eye on him. His eyes narrow a split second before Rob bellows, “motherfucker!”

The asshole rears back and punches Bucky clean in the jaw.

You gaps in horrified shock, but Bucky grins, his tongue peeking out to test his lip and you can’t help how your eyes linger there.

“You threw the first punch shithead,” Bucky says before winding back and punching Rob in the gut.

All the guys now rush toward their friend, muttering curses at him as they drag him to his feet and eye Bucky warily.

The owner of the bar, and your boss, Barry, comes over and gets in their faces. “Get out and don’t come back!”

They drag their belligerent friend out as quickly as they can, apologizing to you, or maybe Bucky, the whole way.

“What just happened?” you ask, your voice quiet.

Bucky steps close to you, his knuckles brushing over your cheek, light as a feather.

“Are you okay?”

His eyes are filled with emotions. Worry, fury, fear, and tenderness.

“I think so. That was just…crazy.”

Nat wraps her arm around your shoulders comfortingly. “Let’s go get Bucky some ice, ok?”

You glance down at Bucky’s hand, puffy and red.

“Oh no,” you say, gently taking his hand in yours.

He smiles. “It’s fine. Been there, done that.”

You watch him go back and sit at the bar, most of the other customers now cleared out. When you come back out with the ice and ointment your gentle, “you okay?” pulls him from his musings.

“Yeah, no big deal. As long as you’re okay?”

You sit next to him, resting his hand on your thigh and carefully pressing the ice to his knuckles. He stares at his hand on your skin.

“I don’t know if okay is how I would describe how I’m feeling right now…that was…”

Your words trail off when you can’t find a suitable label for the last ten minutes.

“Sexy?” he suggests, deadpan.

Your jaw drops open in offense.

“What? NO!”

He breaks and his lips spread wide in a grin.

You deflate and bump his shoulder, not trying to hide your own smile.

“Seriously though,” you say, shaking your head. “You didn’t have to…why did you do that?”

He looks at you evenly, his voice soft. “Look I’m not some crazy guy who goes around lookin’ to beat people up doll face. But you shouldn’t have to put up with shit like that. I’m sure that wasn’t the first time that piece of shit has pulled a stunt like that, but hopefully next time, he’ll have some decency and sense before laying hands on a woman without an explicit invitation.”

“Well in that case…that’s pretty nice.”

He scoffs with a lopsided smile and his eyes drop to your lips; his hand still pressed to your thigh. His head tilts and he leans in slightly, watching your lips part. He curls his fingers around your thigh but winces at the pull on his knuckles.

You see it and pull back, looking down at his hand.

“Let me get you fixed up.”

Once you have him bandaged up he whispers, “thanks,” still staring at his hand held in yours.

“You ready to go, or do you need to close up first?”

His question is light.

“Go where?”

“Out with me. Ice cream? A walk? Anything you want.”

“It’s the middle of the night. I’m not going anywhere but home.”

“Or we could go to the twenty-four-hour deli on the corner and get ice cream sandwiches then I’ll take you to the roof of my building and we can watch the sunrise.”

Your light touch traces along the calluses on his fingertips.

“Are you usually this friendly to everyone who is new to the neighborhood?” you ask behind a sly smile.

“Not at all doll. Only for you. You’re special.”

Your jaw goes rigid and your eyes narrow. “You can stop whatever game you’re playing.”

You pull back, releasing his hand and starting to put the first aid kit back together.

“What just happened? I’m not playing games,” he says, keeping his voice steady. “But I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”

“It’s fine. I need to go help Nat close up.”

You stand and walk to the door, your head held high. He’s not going to fool you with his sweet words.

The next evening is slow so you spend most of it helping Nat stock the bar and clean. The hours pass by and nothing exciting happens letting your thoughts wander to Bucky. Then, as if on cue, the door opens, and you automatically look over to see who the latest customer is.

Bucky fills the doorway.

Your breath hitches and you can’t look away. He’s more dressed up tonight. A dark button down opened at the collar and dark jeans that are tight across his thick thighs.

You can’t help but think he’s here to meet someone for a date. The jealousy that surges through you is surprising and infuriating. That is, until he walks up to the bar and sits down. Right in front of you.

“Hey, doll.”

“Hey, Bucky.”

“What can I get you?” you start. “Or are you waiting for someone?”

“Yep,” he says, popping the p. “What time’s your break?”

“Oh,” you breath out. “Um…I don’t really get a long one…”

You start to wipe down the bar aimlessly, remaining quiet while you wait. You can feel him watching you, his eyes tracking your every movement.

He calls over Nat and asks, “can I get two of the special for tonight, please?”

He’s speaking to Nat but looking at you, daring you to disagree.

When you stay quiet, the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly, victory lighting up his eyes.

“If you want to take it to-go for later, that’s fine. But I thought it’d be nice to have dinner together and figured ya wouldn’t want to go out with me after I fucked up last night.”

“So dinner while I’m supposed to be working is a better option?” you shoot back.

He cringes, despite the lack of heat in your accusation then sighs defeatedly.

“I’m trying here. I want to get to know you better. I promise my intentions are good.”

You stare, getting lost in his beautiful eyes before you scan the rest of his face. He seems more vulnerable now and you want to believe him.

Nat comes back with two plates of steaming food and sets them down.

You give in and unwrap the silverware, digging into a bite of baked potato.

“Mmm,” you moan around the taste.

He freezes with his own bite halfway to his mouth, and mutters under his breath. “Are you trying to kill me?”

You fall into easy conversation about what he does for work, how you like living in the city and everything in between.

After you explain why you moved, spilling the truth between bites, he replies with, “I’m glad you picked Brooklyn.”

His fingers slide over yours and the touch is full of heat. His eyes follow the movement and his jaw tightens. He threads his fingers through yours, holding your hand across the bar.

When he meets your eyes, his are hooded and dark. “How about that ice cream tonight with a roof top view doll?”

The ‘yes’ is on the tip of your tongue as your body leans over the bar, but then you remember that you want more than just a fling and even though he said his intentions are good you can’t help but wonder why a guy like him is still single. You’re not looking for a fling.

You untangle your fingers from his, pulling back.

“Thank you, Bucky. Really. But…”

He nods, not letting you finish before he reaches into his back pocket and sets down some cash to cover the dinners.

“See ya soon doll.”

The bar is closed on Mondays but Tuesday has you running beers up and down the bar for game night. Bucky’s back. Same time, same seat.

“You need a break doll? Something to eat?” Bucky asks before he takes a sip of beer.

He sets it down as he waits for your answer, studying you intently.

You grab a French fry from his plate and wave it around before bringing it to your lips. He grins wolfishly, catching your wrist in his hand and before you know what’s happening, he’s snagged the fry from between your fingers with his teeth. His tongue snakes out to the lick the salt from your fingertips, then he chews with a self-satisfied smile.

“I’ll let you have the rest,” he says, holding one up to your lips.

You tentatively lean forward, watching him warily in case he tries to pull it away, then chomp down.

“Just let me know when you want more,” he croons.

You continue to work, constantly aware of Bucky and the way he never takes his eyes off you. You check on him regularly, engaging in some deep conversation even with the little time you have.

As your shift nears its end he calls you over.

“Ice cream and rooftop tonight?” he asks, setting money down on the bar to pay for his food and drinks.

“I can’t tonight.”

He smiles. “No worries doll face. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next night comes quickly, your tired feet aching from marching back and forth between the bar and the pool tables since it’s half price games tonight.

It’s getting late, and despite your best efforts, you can’t help but wonder where Bucky is. Maybe the last time you turned him down was the final straw. You feel a deep twinge of disappointment at the idea.

The door opens, and you look over, your eyes filled with hope, but it’s just some random couple.

You’re stomach grumbles and you realize you’ve had dinner with Bucky the last few nights and now that it’s late and he hasn’t shown you haven’t eaten.

Checking that everyone has full glasses you wipe your hands and head for the kitchen, hoping to snag something to eat.

The chef, Suzanne, greets you warmly. You ask her for a bowl of the soup and she hums in agreement, yelling out for Charlie.

A guy you’ve never seen before pops around the corner.

“Hey, I’m Charlie, the sometimes kitchen help,” he explains holding out his hand.

“Nice to meet you Charlie.”

You give him your name and tell him you’re the new bartender.

His face changes instantly, eyes going wide and his brows shooting up to his hairline. He pulls his hand back quickly.

He’s still smiling but he seems guarded all of a sudden.

“You forgot to mention the most important part…Bucky’s girl.”

“What?” you say incredulously. “I’m not Bucky’s girl! We’re just friends. He just stops by for dinner and a drink!”

You know it’s more than that. Charlie nods like he knows it’s more than that.

“Sure, whatever you say. But no offense, I’m gonna take his word for it. I’ve never seen him do anything like this before. It has the whole neighborhood talkin’.”

With that he disappears, only reappearing a few moments later with your soup, then he runs off again.

You inhale the soup, not wanting to leave Nat alone and rush back to the bar to check the drink orders.

Nat slides up next to you. “Those drinks for table six?”

You don’t answer her, instead filling her in on what happened in the kitchen.

“Charlie said I’m ‘Bucky’s girl.’ I’m not his girl. What does that even mean?”

“Aw that’s sweet! He’s never said anything like that before and I would know. Been living here my whole life.”

“No it’s not!”

“I think it’s sorta romantic,” she says wistfully. “He’s all in, claiming you far and wide when you haven’t even realized what’s right in front of your face!”

She punctuates the last words of her sentence as she stares you down.

“What’s right in front of my face?” you ask, unwilling to concede that it might be the tiniest bit sweet…in a cave man sort of way.

“He’s here,” Nat whispers, but it’s more of squeal.

You turn toward the door, your whole face lighting up even though you’re still mad at the claim he made. The door is closed, Bucky no where in sight.

Nat’s finger is suddenly in your face. “That! You want to see him. You like him coming here to see you too. Shit, when was the last time someone made this much of an effort for a date!”

She throws her hands up! “Just go out with the man!”

“You mean have sex with him?” you bite out, not forgetting about her earlier warnings.

“Either or, maybe both! What could it hurt?”

“Me!” you say defensively.

Nat’s expression softens. “I think maybe I gave you the wrong idea about him…” she fumbles. “What I really mean is I think maybe we all had the wrong idea about him.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs with a heavy sigh. “Bucky is man. A hot as fuck man,” she teases. “And he does have a reputation…but only because everyone wishes they could get a piece of him. I really don’t remember the last girl he went out with. So either he’s really quiet about it, but if you haven’t noticed in this neighborhood everyone is up everyone else’s ass, or he hasn’t really dated.”

Nat eyes you carefully, curiously.

“Oh shit,” you mumble, laying your face in your hands. “I do want to go out with him, but I’m scared…have you seen him?”

Nat grins. “Oh yes. I have and…”

“He’s gorgeous. Like drop dead gorgeous,” you finish for her.

“Exactly,” she agrees happily, a dreamy look on her face.

You swat at her shoulder, getting her attention and gesturing to yourself.

“What? You look amazing!” she says. “It’s not like he hasn’t seen you at work before.”

“You don’t think is just a thing because I’m the new girl in the neighborhood?”

“Do people do things like that where you’re from?” she asks. “And no!” she finishes, shaking her head.

Just as her words sink in your heart sinks with them.

“Doesn’t matter anyway. I blew it, he’s not here tonight.”

“Yes he is.”

The door opens and when you look over, it’s him.

Finally!

The air charges across the space between you and you know something has changed and when his eyes meet yours it’s almost as if he knows it too. He nods toward the door, silently asking if you’re ready for that date.

“Hey Nat, you think if I ask Barry to let me off early…”

“I swear if he says no I’ll kick him in the balls myself,” Nat screeches.

You rush back to the office and find Barry sitting behind his desk. Your question rushes out and he holds up a hand to stop you before you even finish.

“Go,” is all he says, but the smile he gives you reaches his eyes.

You cross the room to Bucky, his eyes wandering over you with possessive heat and unguarded want.

When you’re standing right in front of him, your toes touching, he asks, “you ready?”

Your lips lift ever so slightly and when his large hand cups your cheek your eyelashes flutter closed. His motions are slow, teasingly so, but he’s giving you time to stop him. He bends down, letting his intentions be quite clear.

He kisses the corner of your mouth then brushes his lips over yours, so lightly, you can feel his breath. You sigh into him and his hands slide over your curves and down to your waist, his grip tightening.

Nat let’s out a cheer, effectively interrupting the moment but you can’t help but smile at her excitement.

Bucky doesn’t let go of you, his hand sliding into yours as he pulls you out the door and onto the street.

“Hey,” he says soothingly.

“Hi,” you say, tucking your chin.

His fingers press under and he lifts your eyes. “You good?”

He waits patiently for you to formulate a reply.

“I just…I’m not sure…what you expect.”

“Anything, doll. I want to know you, spend time with you.”

Dropping his voice lower and bringing his lips to the shell of your ear, he whispers, “kiss you again…for real this time.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Okay,” he agrees, his voice heavy with intention as he takes you in his arms again and drags you into his chest.

Your lips meet, tender and soft at first but as your fingers dance up his arms and grip his biceps, he growls and takes it deeper.

You moan into his mouth, working your hands higher into the hair that brushes his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels you give his hair a little tug.

He pulls back and you chase him for one last kiss which he happily obliges in.

“I promised you ice cream and a roof top sunrise,” he murmurs. “And I keep my promises doll.”

@book-dragon-13 @sebstanwhore @late-to-the-party-81 @goldylions @laineyreads @randomfandompenguin @lookiamtrying @beccablogsthings @justkinsey @hallecarey1 @blackwidownat2814 @flordeamatista @buckysdollforlife

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #beefy!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #beefy!bucky #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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chrisevansonly · 6 months

Text

𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 | 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬

ʚ lando norris x female reader (best friends to lovers!!)

ʚ you’ve always been in the background, never experiencing the love everyone’s talking too, except you’ve been watching lando experience that feeling your yearning for…are you really meant to be alone? or have feelings been kept hidden for too long…?

ʚ a bit of angst, slight arguments, miscommunication but super fluffy and cute too (i hate angsty endings, you all know this already)

ʚ hehe the fic is finally here! thank you to everyone who voted and helped me choose someone to write this for! i hope this is okay! where it says ‘best friends found a new guy, imagine it saying girl’

ʚ word count 2k+

Moved put to a new city, June is dawning down on me, and all that I can find….

You’d moved to Monaco to pursue a sports journaling degree when you’d turned nineteen, leaving the hustle and bustle of London to come to the glitz and glamour that Monte Carlo held. The one thing that was nice is you’d been staying with your childhood best friend Lando ever since you moved to the city, more than happy to be back with a familiar face, not to mention being able to attend many events and grand prix’s to gain a more hands on experience with your degree.

“Okay, are you all settled in?” he’d asked coming to his guest room to check on you

“Yeah, just a few more things to unpack, thank you for letting me stay with you”

He smiled

“Of course, I love you, you know I do, wouldn’t want you to stay anywhere else!”

There is was, the constant three words that brought butterflies to your stomach whenever Lando said them to you. The two of you had always been affectionate with one another, but you couldn’t help but wish he meant it deeper than he did.

“I’ll let you finish and then we’ll go get some lunch?”

“Sounds good! I shouldn’t be long!”

Nodding he looked around once more before leaving you to your thoughts once again, what a lovesick teenage girl you were.

A sickly romance in the air, lovers stroll without a care in sight, oh this can’t be right…

If there was anything you adored more in life it was love, you’d always been a romantic at heart, but as you began to reach your twenties, never experiencing love romantically or ever really having your opportunity to be loved on that level, seeing the romance within the city streets had begun to bring a sudden dark cloud with it.

It wasn’t that you hated love, no far from, it was more a longing for that feeling of warmth and comfort that only a partner could bring, and wondering when it would finally be your time.

“Pipsqueak?”

Snapping yourself out of your daze, your eyes focused back on Lando who sat across from you at the café the two of you had been frequenting, his silly little nickname he had for you slipping out

“Hmm? Sorry I didn’t hear you”

“I was asking if you wanted to come to the grand prix this weekend, I’ll get it organized with my team if yes”

You were quick to smile, nodding your head

“Yes please, that would be great, I’ve got a paper to write so maybe I’ll find inspiration there!”

Lando nodded, the brit matching your smile, an unreadable emotion flashing across his eyes, but it was gone before you could figure it out

“Sounds good”

Cause the sun’s engaged to the sky, my best friends found a new guy, I’m only getting older, I’ve never had a shoulder to cry on, someone to call mine…

The paddock of the Hungarian grand prix was where you met Lando’s girlfriend for the first time, something you were not expecting to happen, and in all honesty, you’d wished you stayed home now.

“Perfect, you’re here, Ella this is Y/N my best friend, and of course Y/N, this is Ella my girlfriend”

You smiled holding your hand out to shake which she took gently

“Nice to meet you! I didn’t know you were coming, if I did I would have stayed home, I don’t mean to intrude”

Ella smiled sweetly

“Oh no, I don’t mind having a buddy to walk around with, Lando’s told me lot’s about you, you’ve been friends since you were kids?”

And there was the word that soured in your mouth, friends, yeah you and Lando had been friends for years, and yet for some reason you hated that word with a passion, you’ve never had before

“Yeah since we were kids!”

Elbowing Lando slightly he laughed, only when you joined him, it didn’t feel right and your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

Why did you come this weekend.

Everybody’s falling in love and I’m falling behind.

Now almost 4 years later you were twenty three and finally finished your degree, working at a small publishing firm in Monaco, only you’d long moved out of Lando’s apartment and settled into your own little studio. You often looked back on how the weekend ended all those four years ago, Ella was great, she and Lando seemed perfect for one another, but you hadn’t expected it to be a huge problem.

“Are you okay?” Lando asked, his hand touching your shoulder gently

“I’m fine, just super tired”

“I don’t believe you, I know you better.”

Taking a deep breath you continued to pack your things, getting ready for the flight home

“Where’s Ella, shouldn’t you be with her?” you chirped back, trying not to give away your bad mood

“She’s packing and I wanted to check on you, what’s going on pipsqueak?”

“Well I’m fine, and stop calling me that.”

Lando couldn’t get anything else in before you were snapping your suitcase shut and wheeling it out the hotel room door, confusion all he felt watching you walk away, he was determined to find out what was wrong.

Touched the ocean, fell right in, stepped outside and burned my skin, my life won’t go my way..

You had been falling for Lando ever since you were teenagers, his eyes trapped you into him, his words filling your heart with a warmth and love only he could provide, except he was never yours, and never would be. Life had a funny way of working you thought, it was almost too good to be true to imagine yourself and Lando getting together, despite the same idea from both of your parents.

The more you saw Lando and Ella on social media together, the more you pulled away, a constant discomfort in your chest as you watched her have what you yearned for, holding his hand the way you wished you could, kissing his lips like you dreamed you could.

She had everything and right now you had nothing.

Bossa nova in my room, hope that I’ll find someone too to love…because the sun’s engaged to the sky my best friends found a new guy, I’m only getting older, I’ve never had a shoulder to cry on, someone to call mine. Everybody’s falling in love and I’m falling behind.

There had never been an argument so huge between you and Lando before today, it had been weeks of you avoiding his texts, calls, and missing out on weekly friend dates that he had finally shown up at your apartment, anger in his eyes.

“I told you I’ve been busy Lando, can’t you accept that?”

“No! Because ever since Hungary four years ago you haven’t been yourself, ever since you met Ella something changed.”

You rolled your eyes at her name

“That’s such bullshit, I’ve just been doing my own thing and getting used to working, besides my degree was kicking my ass back then.”

Lando didn’t believe a single word you were saying, he could see it in your eyes you were lying

“Stop lying to me, we used to be close and now you’re a stranger, I don’t even know who you are anymore!” his patience wearing thin and you could tell by the way his hands were clenching

“Lando just leave!”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

“Go away!” you yelled back only causing the driver to yell louder

“TELL ME!”

“I LOVE YOU OKAY?! It’s too painful to be your friend, my chest constanly hurts, I see everyone else have you all to themselves, watch you love someone else, hold someone else and I’m in the background, wondering when it will be my turn-”

You paused taking a deep breath as your eyes began to well up with tears

“When it will be my turn to be loved, to love..to experience what it’s like to be happy with you, and I’ll never have that Lando, so just go!”

Lando remained frozen, nothing coming out of his mouth which was enough for you to go upstairs and close yourself off in your room, figuring he would let himself out of your apartment and go home. Minutes later after hearing the door slam, you let yourself break apart, not caring if your neighbours heard the sound of your sobs.

Losing Lando for good, seemed better than settling for anything else.

Everybody’s falling in love, everybody’s falling in love, oh..everybody’s falling in love but me…

Two months had passed since you’d had that argument, yet no matter what you did the ache never left, the hole remained where you once had him, only now it hurt more than before. What could be so wrong with someone that they’d never been given a chance at love, to feel that euphoric feeling lovers talked about. Truth be told it seemed like some sick joke to you, it wasn’t fair, even if you were being slightly dramatic, never having that kind of love began to affect someone as time went on. Leaving you feeling more insecure and even hesitant to imagine yourself with someone romantically, but let’s face it…you still weren’t over Lando in the slightest.

It wasn’t until Friday night rolled along that you were making your way to the door of your home, fervent knocking could be heard on your door

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

When you twisted the knob opening the oak door, you froze seeing Lando on the otherside, his cheeks a rosy pink as if he’d sprinted over, his eyes filled once again with the same emotion you couldn’t read the day you’d moved in with him, all those four years ago

“Lan what are you doing-”

“I love you too.”

His words flew out frantically, his hands wringing together

“Funny joke, see you later.”

“NO! Please…I-I just please let me in baby…”

Curse your heart for speeding up at the pet name, something that felt so familiar yet foreign to you. Despite the logical side of your brain telling you to close the door, you found yourself letting him inside, closing it behind him.

“Why are you here…”

Lando didn’t waste any time as he took your hands, holding them softly in his

“I’m an idiot, and I only hope I’m not too late because I love you, so much and not in the way we used to say it as kids, god I love you with everything in me and all these years I’ve been so unfair to you, missing the signs, I should have known”

“What if it is too late?”

Hearing you speak up you watched his shoulders drop, maybe it was a bit mean to lie to him, but part of you wanted him to feel just a sliver of what you’ve been feeling for years

“Oh-um then just pretend I wasn’t here”

“Lando?”

You tightened your grip on his hands when he went to pull away

“Yeah?”

“It’s not to late..”

Nothing was said between the two of you after you said this, your eyes meeting as you watched a certain light come back to his, knowing he hadn’t totally lost you. In this moment he did the one logical thing he thought of, pulling you to him and leaning down to kiss you, his hands moving to hold your face, like he was afraid you’d turn into dust and slip away from him. When you pulled away he kept your face in his hands, a little smile on your face

“I love you Lan..”

He smiled leaning down to kiss you once more

“I love you too baby…always will”

As you moved to rest your head on his chest you couldn’t help but feel your entire world shift, had this been the feeling you’d been searching for all your life? The love and the warmth you’d been deprived of for so long? Nowhere would feel like home more than Lando would now that you were in his arms, this was home.

“Lan?”

He hummed hearing your voice mumbled into his sweater, realizing this was where he was meant to be his whole life, and now that he had you, he would never let go, because a life without you, would be a life he would never, ever want to live again.

“Yeah?”

A pause fell over the two of you before you hugged him just a bit tighter,

“Thank you for choosing me…”

#rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks #lando norris x you #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 masterlist #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #lando norris f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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galesdevoteewife · 4 months

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Gale may not be so typical squishy wizard/scholar?

-My Galeology study note-

Looking at his character sheet in the Deluxe pack gets me thinking, maybe our wizard is not exactly designed to be the typical squishy one...?

[Act2 spoiler warning]

2 things caught my eyes:

1) Great physical fitness, and good reflexes. (For your reference, Gale & Wyll are the two companions who have the highest Con: 15. I put everyone's sheets at the bottom of the post.)

His Con and Dex are... very high?? I mean, higher than Karlach and Lae'zel...????

Note 1: I suspect it could have something to do with his background as Mystra's chosen, as they are somewhat "transformed" when they agree to become the goddess's chosen. A topic for another day since I haven't quite figured it out yet, for anyone who is interested there's a chapter about it in The Seven Sisters. Also, I have little clues on how much chosen lore credit Larian was taking into account while designing him, or how Mystra's "taking back the given ability" works. Note 2: Again, Mystra's chosen are often sent on missions that involve a lot of traveling according to Elminster's series. Mystra also mentioned that Gale and she used to have adventures together, which leads to an assumption: despite his preference he might be traveling quite a lot until he was cast aside and quarantined himself in his tower. Might be the type of scholar who is very keen on field studies?

Note 3: Can someone undress Elminster to exam my theory please??xD Neh won't work I think all human might share same body model in game

Come to think of it, there was a party banter between Karlach & Gale that went like :

Karlach: Whoa! Almost slipped there. Gale: You wouldn't be the first, I'd wager. It's been some time since these walkways felt the carpenter's hammer. Karlach: You gonna catch me if I eat a brick? Gale: With my reflexes? I'd catch you before you so much as stubbed a toe.

At first I thought that was a sarcastic joke but, seems like it wasn't? Also this:

Karlach: Ready to enter the belly of the beast? Gale: It's the stairs I'm dreading. I shall close my eyes, and pretend I'm climbing my own, far superior tower in Waterdeep. Karlach: In that case, welcome home.

...So it seems when I pictured him as a homebody, I should reimagine the concept of home... His has...lots of stairs? Just walking around in the tower could be counted as a workout, sort of thing? Note: I don't think the place he shows in the Act 2 cutscene is his tower. Otherwise, aren't these neighbors pretty much doomed?

2) Not THAT smart. Well, I love him, so I will speak in his defence: [1] He has a warm(s) digging holes in his brain. [2] Poisonous magical bile running in his blood. Maybe he's just not at his best, makes sense, eh? Wyll mentioned he is nerfed after tadpole too. After all, this man obviously memorized a DICTIONARY:

Gale: You promised to stay in Waterdeep. 'Promise,' verb, meaning to swear something will or will not be done. Tara the Tressym: And I decided 'will not'. And a good thing, too. You look like you haven't had a good meal in days

Player: When I said we could be more than friends, you answered 'perhaps'. What does that really mean? Gale: If I recall correctly, the Waterdhavian Dictionary of the Common Tongue of Faerûn defines it as an adverb that conveys the meaning of 'it may be that', or 'possibly'. Gale: Sorry, sometimes I just can't help being quite insufferable. In seriousness, I'm glad you asked that question.

Along with a bunch of you-may-never-need information:

Everything about ceremorphosis? Myconid? Why in the world have him read about Cazador??? And how can he not know the distance between Waterdeep & Baldur's Gate, even Karlach ―who spent a decade, which is likely half of her life in hell― knows better geography than him. Gale either totally ignored the subject or portaled everywhere; distance meant nothing to him?? Uh, but you can't take party banters too seriously; it's buggy. How could a bug bit Karlach in the swamp? It should've been burned into ashes before it even reached her, no?

Anyway, just rambling some thoughts <3 I would have gone to Harvard if there was a major in Gale...

-DISCLAIMER- Brought to you by a brainrot wife, Galerian missionary. Be warned the article might has (strong) bias because the writer is braindead and she thinks Gale is the most awesome character in the world.

#baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 gale #ramblings #Galeology #bg3 datamine

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mutable-manifestation · 4 months

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Actual Scientists Jack & Maddie AU Part 3

Part 1 & 2

***

The lab is empty when they get to Fenton Works, his parents busy off helping the JLD wherever it was they were working from.

The journey the rest of the way to the Far Frozen passes relatively quickly under the weight of discussing how to reverse engineer the sarcophagus of forever sleep to make Naptime Box 2: Vlad Edition.

Could they probably just beat him up with the right plan and aid? Sure. But then they risk having to play royal hot potato (Danny doesn't want it and he doubts most of the allies he has would want the extra responsibility. Assuming there are responsibilities - Danny wouldn't know since there hasn't been a king, for all intents and purposes, since well before he became a halfa so who knows what the position even means in the context of the Zone).

Plus it would be way more satisfying to shove him in a box. Vlad gets a nice long nap and Danny gets to live the rest of his half-life without worrying about his Dad getting stabbed or something if Vlad starts feeling impatient.

It would also give Danny plenty of time to find some way to buy the Packers - not because he wants them, just because it would be really funny if Vlad eventually woke up to find that the only thing he wanted other than Maddie was now also very permanently out of reach.

The city of Green Bay could fold eventually, after all. But Danny? Danny would never yield, just to spite him, and Vlad would know that.

He probably won't actually do it, seeing as a) expensive and b) probably complicated.

But it would be really funny.

Their discussion on the ethics of using the Fenton Stockades as the base for the Box cut off as they land.

Without the distraction of their chat the adrenaline of panic comes rushing back, and he transforms as he steps out of the Speeder, nyooming to hover in front of Frostbite so quickly that the entire welcoming party - Frostbite somehow manages to have one arranged every time he drops by, and Danny is usually willing to at least try and indulge them since it seems to make them happy - jolts in surprise.

"Greetings!" Frostbite smiles wide, arms open in a grand welcoming, the only hint of lingering surprise the trails of slightly puffed up fur up his arms and the sides of his neck that has already mostly smoothed itself back out. "The Far Frozen welcomes the Great One and friends-"

"Hey Frostbite sorry for being abrupt but I'm kind of freaking out and you seemed like the best person - uh, ghost to go to because you always seem to know lots of things and I kind of need to know what's going on as soon as possible just in case it's a worst case scenario because the Justice League came to talk to my parents about some papers and I probably haven't mentioned them to you before because they're awful and I thought my parents made them but surprise I was wrong! Which is good! Except the League was mostly worried about them maybe causing the new ghost king to war with the human realm because apparently there's a supernatural branch of the Justice League and they think there's a new Ghost KingTM as in the Ghost King after Pariah Dark and I'm kind of freaking out because if there is a new ghost king there's actually a chance it's Vlad and oh ancients please tell me it's not Vlad or that the League heard wrong please."

Sam and Tucker had caught up by then, coming to stand on either side of him as Frostbite blinked.

"You are...asking me the identity of the current High King?" He asks, face scrunched in a bewildered expression.

"Oh my gosh Batman was right!?" He floats a bit higher at the news. "Please just tell me it's not Vlad! Uh, Plasmius."

"Plasmius?" Frostbite asks, eyebrows crawling higher. "Certainly not! What in the realms - do you truly not know?"

"Oh thank goodness," Danny sighs, sinking back to his usual level. "Not Vlad, okay, one less disastrous possibility. And whoever it is probably already knows they're the king and nothing bad has happened yet so it's probably fine, right?"

He looks back to meet Frostbite's eyes.

"Wait, nothing bad has happened yet, right? Like, is everything okay? I know Pariah caused you guys a lot of grief before; the new guy 's not going around causing trouble for you and you just haven't told me because you're worried about being a bother, right?" He frets, eyes flicking about, searching for fresh injuries on the various members of the welcoming party.

"...No, Great One," Frostbite answers, blinking away the surprised expression to be replaced by something soft. "Though I, and all the Far Frozen, are honored by your concern. While Pariah Dark is no longer the High King of the Infinite Realms, I can assure you, with utmost certainty, that you have nothing to fear from his successor. But I believe we have much more to discuss. Come, let us find somewhere more comfortable to talk - and get your human friends out of the cold."

***

It didn't take them long to reach a sitting room, and soon enough they were all settled into the enormous, fuzzy chairs in one of the warmer rooms available, Danny and Frostbite each with a cup of shaved ice tea while Sam and Tucker were offered beverages warm enough to steam in deference to their need for warmth.

Once everyone had taken a sip - or bite - Danny launched back into his questioning.

"So did Dark have a kid hidden away somewhere or did some kind of council finally decide on his replacement? Actually can ghosts even have - wait right Box Lunch, forgot about that on purpose but never mind. Or is there some fourth option that isn't those or trial by combat that we didn't think of?"

"Before I answer that, Great One, may I ask why you have already discounted trial by combat?" He returns curiously.

"Because if it was trial by combat it would be Vlad - er, Plasmius - and you already said it isn't him."

"Or it could be you," Tucker ribs, waggling his fingers at him.

"We already talked about why it couldn't be me, Tuck," Danny huffs, rolling his eyes and taking another bite of his... smoothie?

"Oh? And why do you think it would be Plasmius?" Frostbite asks.

"Because! I may have fought Pariah Dark, and sure I put him back in the sarcophagus, but I was running on fumes by that point, and he was still slamming around in there! Vlad, as much as I hate to admit it, is the one that turned the key and made sure he stayed locked away. It took almost everything I had to keep him pinned long enough. If...if he'd been even a few seconds later I probably would've died the rest of the way before he even had the time to break out a second time."

"But had you not put him there, no key would have mattered," Frostbite begins quietly. "Plasmius was no match for Pariah Dark; he was defeated in an instant the first time they clashed."

"Well, yeah, but so was I," he protests, not liking the direction the conversation is beginning to take.

"And yet, you alone went to face him a second time. You alone stood against the King of All Ghosts while your armies clashed."

"Our-!? I didn't have- you mean the ghosts that came to help me???" Danny sputtered, incredulous. "They weren't an army they were just-"

He pauses, searching for words that would not come.

"They were just a large group of ghosts who sided with you, who aided you in combat and kept the multitudes distracted while you went to face their leader alone. However you thought of them at the time, whatever they were to you up till then or are to you now, after, in that moment they were your army."

"Danny's totally the ghost king, isn't he?" Sam drawls after the brief silence that follows.

"Indeed," Frostbite answers her, but he looks Danny in the eyes as he does so. "You are the savior of the Ghost Zone, Pariah's Bane. And you are the High King of the Infinite Realms."

"I cheated!" Danny blurts out, shooting up to float above his chair.

"Cheated?" Frostbite's lips twitch as he fights down a smile.

"I had the Fenton Ecto-Skeleton! That's totally cheating! Don't combat trials have to be honorable or something?!" He begs.

Frostbite chuckles.

"I apologize, Great One, but I am afraid there is no such thing as an honorable war," he says, expression briefly turning solemn. "And even if it were, just as you had your "Ecto-Skeleton," did not Pariah have his ring and crown?

You issued a challenge and he answered, your armies clashed while the two of you stood against each other and each other alone; you alone put him back into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, and you alone held it shut long enough for Plasmius to turn the key.”

Danny drifts back down to his seat as Frostbite speaks, then continues slouching further with every word.

“I am given to understand that Plasmius likes to think of others as pawns on his own personal chessboard,” he says, “But at the time he was but another ghost, come to fight Pariah's army on your behalf - as a member of your army. A pawn, to paraphrase his own words, that you used to topple a king - not through any intentional manipulation, but through the sheer magnetic charisma of your willingness to stand against monsters like Pariah Dark and of your ability to do so. The confidence to stand alongside you that such strength inspires.

He would not have approached if he did not believe you could win - would not risk endangering himself so. At best, you could consider him a referee, calling the match to a close once it was decisively in your favor.

Plasmius may think of existence as a game with himself as the only player, and he may have been acting in his own self-interest overall, but by every measure, in this instance, he was undeniably your piece.

The Zone itself acknowledges your right to rule by the way the crown of fire sits where you left it, unmoving on the floor of Pariah's keep until the day you finally choose to wear it, no matter how many hands may try to move it."

Frostbite's words are slow and measured, but as undeniable as the creeping of a glacier. And by the time they cease, Danny has sunk so far as to end up an undignified heap on the floor before his chair.

The trio remains silent as they absorb his words.

Minutes pass before Danny finally speaks.

"If the crown can't be taken, then how did I get it from Pariah?" He questions, a final hope that Frostbite may be mistaken.

"It will only remain unmoved until you first put it on. After that, it will be up to you whether it stays safe on your head."

Danny groans his despair, final bit of hope shattered.

"I must apologize again, Great One," he says solemnly. "Had I known you were unaware of your station, I would have informed you sooner."

He frowns heavily, looking into the distance thoughtfully.

"The Observants should have informed you long before now."

"Well, that explains it. The Observants hate Danny's guts," Tucker says.

"To neglect their duties for such a reason...," He trails off, his glower highlighting the inhuman nature of his visage.

The trio fidget.

Danny coughs after a few seconds of tense silence.

“Uh, speaking of duties,” he begins, relaxing as Frostbite’s expression smooths back into something kind and polite as he listens, “What exactly does the Ghost King even do? Like. Pariah was locked away for… a long time? I guess. So does the Zone even need a King? Can’t I just, like, resign?”

“I suppose it might seem that way from a younger ghost’s perspective - Pariah has been locked away for millenia, after all, and the Zone is still in one piece.”

Frostbite pauses, leaning back in his seat and taking another bite of his drink.

“However. What you must understand, Great One, is that the problems caused by the absence of a king in the Infinite Realms are not the whirlwind that such a thing would be in the living realm - social order is affected, but the speed of bureaucracy is slower by orders of magnitude in the Realms, and there is not the same level of inter-reliance that the living tend to require - but rather, they are winds and waters sliding against a rock, chipping away at it bit by bit until it is either worn smooth… or the whole structure collapses under its own weight.”

“How does not having a king cause dimensional collapse!?” Tucker shrieks, clutching his cup like a lifeline.

“How long do we have before it collapses?” Sam asks urgently not a second later.

“Oh shit, how long do we have before it collapses???” he echoes, hunching over his cup enough that the steam adds a layer of fog to his glasses.

Danny sits bolt upright, whipping wide eyes away from his friends to join them in staring at Frostbite.

“Total collapse would take millenia more to truly begin,” he placates before taking a more grave expression. “This does not mean that there will not be issues before that point, however; the symptoms of the High King’s absence have begun to show this past millennium. But rest assured, there is time enough to heal the wounds that have been wrought. The only permanent damage would be the collapse itself, and that, as I said, is millenia away.”

“Is… is that why you never mentioned it to me before?” Danny asks, dropping back to the ground in relief. “Because it’s not urgent and you figured I’d just…get to it eventually? Actually, why did you think I knew if you knew that the crown was still in Pariah’s Keep?”

“It is the duty of the Observants to observe, but also, as you have experienced, to oversee - the timeline, trials, the general functioning of the zone. Without a king to report to, much of their ability to act is crippled, of course - their ability to interfere directly with the timeline has always been severely restricted, their options for sentencing are severely reduced, and there are some things the Realms require that only the High King can provide - but one duty remains unaffected: overseeing the ascension of new kings.

Coronations have taken many forms in the past, from a quick swap in the battlefield to a formal ceremony to a celebration that lasted a decade. Given the dark era we are, at last, able to put behind us and the non-urgent nature of even the most severe problems that the Realms are currently affected by, I had assumed that the large delay was in preparation for that last form - the lead-up to a grand celebration.”

“Except instead it’s just them being petty,” Sam notes, sitting back up from her own relieved slouch.

Danny groans, leaving his tea to float and covering his face with his hands.

“Why couldn’t it have just been as easy as shoving Vlad in a box,” he whines.

“I mean, we still can?” Tucker offers, prompting Sam to smack him over the head before pausing consideringly.

“OW!”

“He might be right, actually,” she says, ignoring his exclamation. “Given Vortex’s trial and sentencing, there’s clearly some kind of legal system in the Zone that isn’t just Walker on a power trip. No doubt he’s broken some kind of Actual Realms Law - I’d be surprised if breaking Pariah out like he did wasn’t some form of highly illegal - so you could probably send him to actual Ghost Jail. It’s certainly where he belongs, given all the….”

She makes a vague gesture with her hand in lieu of words.

“That doesn’t resolve the problem of I Don’t Wanna Be A King!” Danny exclaims, sitting back and throwing his hands in the air.

Then he turns to Frostbite, eyes pleading.

“Can’t you be king?” he asks.

Frostbite opens his mouth to reply, but Danny steamrolls over him.

“It makes sense! You already know how to lead people! And your people love you! You already know about all the king stuff too! You’ve beaten me in spars before! We’d just have to go to the keep, I put on the crown, you beat me, and problem solved!”

Frostbite’s smile is a mix of amused and pitying.

“I have only ever beaten you in training spars, Great One, and you and I both know that is largely because they were focused on improving your skill with ice and ice alone. Even if I could defeat you in a true all-out fight as you are, I believe you underestimate the boost granted by the crown of fire.”

“I can just put it on then take it off again before we fight! And we can stick to ice!”

“I’m afraid it is not so simple,” he shakes his head. “If you do not give it your all, the crown - the Realms - will not recognize the transition. The only way to “throw the match” successfully would require your opponent to fully End you: to crush your core and snuff your spirit from the very fabric of existence. I am unwilling to do such a thing, and I sincerely hope you would not ask it of me - or, indeed, of anyone.”

Danny paled enough that he nearly matched his human form in skin tone.

“Right. Let’s… let’s not do that, actually.”

“On the bright side, you can probably weasel ruling tips out of Aquaman in exchange for not declaring war on the Living Realm!” Tucker chirps, aiming to cheer him up.

“I’m not going to threaten the Justice League!” he yelps, scandalized.

“But you probably won’t have to threaten them,” Sam chimes in. “They’re already trying to summon you, you already know their goal is to avoid a war. As long as you don’t ask for anything unreasonable, they should be inclined to give you what you want in exchange for peace.”

“Once you offer peace, they will be invested in your successful rule of their own volition as a means of perpetuating said peace,” Frostbite corrects. “If you would like to set preconditions to an accord you should make them things that will not readily be given as a result of said accord. But before we discuss further, perhaps you can fill me in on why war was a concern in the first place? I believe you mentioned something about papers?”

#dpxdc #Actual Scientists Jack & Maddie AU #starring: Not Jack and Maddie lmao #Frostbite #the Trio #lots of dialogue #guess how many ghosts knew about the AEA before today #surprise it was just Danny and Vlad #the GIW were too incompetent to bother anyone except Amity Parkers #guess how many know after Danny fills Frostbite in?#surprise its a lot more #Danny: *harmless no longer useful information I can tell my buddy Frostbite bc it's no big since everything is being handled now*#Frostbite: ...#yeah Danny does the casual horrifying trauma dumps to ghosts too

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elysianeclipxe · 1 year

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secret soft boy revealed | enhypen sunghoon

warnings: insults towards build a bear, sunghoon being a judgemental bitch /hj, irony or like little hypocritical (not that bad i swear), also like mega soft hoonie

genre/au: fluff, boyfriend!sunghoon au

word count: 1.4k

summary: build-a-bear is a cliche and old thing that couple do. only lame people would go there to build a bear when it's obviously easier to just buy one.. so tell me why THE Park Sunghoon just so happens to be there, enjoying the fact that he's building a bear... whipped af

sidenote: pls don't question where my mind's at these days, idk either. like this idea legit just popped outta nowhere and has been stuck for like a week. i had to do it, i had to so deal with it. sunghoon's cute like this anyway, also hoping he isn't super ooc in this, i tried my best y'all

Sunghoon is a man with a lot of pride. That pride slowly increased as the years went by and never stopped to fall. It rose from ice skating, it rose from his fangirls at college, and it definitely rose when and as he dates you. But right now, his pride is easily being challenged by a stuffed animal store. What exactly is he looking at right now?

“Ya! What the fuck is this nightmare of a store?” He felt his feet halt at the sight of the -what’s a nice way to describe it- childish looking store. Well that’s way better compared to what he did say. His eyes are wide and figure is just frozen cause he definitely did not see this as part of his day when he said that you could take him anywhere.

“What do you mean? It’s build-a-bear, it’s cute.” You replied in a questioning tone. You tug at his arm trying to pull him inside the store but it gets progressively harder as if he doesn’t want to go in.

“It looks stupid.” You knew it, this wasn’t the ideal place to go to.

You frown at his response and let go of his hand with a huff, “you look stupid. If you really don’t wanna go in then I won’t force you to. I just thought it would be fun to do together.” Maybe you should’ve picked a different place for the two of you to go to instead of something so immature. You probably look like such a childish significant other in his eyes right now. Great…

He looked over at you and felt his figure slump at your down state. Was this build-a-bear thing such a bad thing that he would shut it down before even trying it? For others, maybe. But for you, no way. He likes you too much for that. So he lifted your chin and forced a smile, “I want to do it, just don’t expect me to be too into it. Just want you to have fun.”

“REALLY HOONIE!? You’re serious about this, promise?” With a slight nod of his head, you beamed your smile at him and excitedly dragged him into the store. This’ll be fun, right?

Oh boy were you soooo right! You and Sunghoon had only entered the workshop around 15 minutes ago and anyone can obviously see how much you’re enjoying it so far, but what you didn’t expect was to see your boyfriend enjoying just as much as you. Maybe even a little bit more. The way he paid so much attention to the worker who explained what to do first since you were both first time build-a-bear makers, or maybe how he said how you two should surprise each other with your build-a-bear and see who made a better one like it was a competition. Nevertheless, you agreed to his proposition.

So here you are, looking around the store trying to find a design you think would be best. Frogs, nope. Bunnies, cute but no. Unicorns, why. Everything seemed so basic and incomplete until there, your build-a-bear chilling on the second shelf. A little penguin.

Awwww, it’s so cute! It kinda looks like Sunghoon. My ice prince and my ice related animal, makes sense

“You are way too cute not to get! Come on, let’s go get you all plush and personalised.” You happily walk over to the worker and move onto the next step, the worker instructing you to do this silly but amusing heart warming ceremony for your almost stuffed penguin. Rubbing the plastic heart between your hands and giving the heart a wish for your plush was one of the most entertaining things to do. Screw being childish, this was terrific and you didn’t care. And it seems as though your boyfriend doesn’t care either since he comes rushing over to you with an unstuffed bear and a huge grin on his face.

“I FOUND IT!! I found the perfect one to get, a classic with my personal touch. I am definitely winning this!” He confidently handed it to the worker and worked on his heart warming ceremony. A serious look on his face as he warmed up the plastic heart in his hands, rubbing it on the fully stuffed animal to create memories, promising to care for his new build-a-bear, and sealing that promise with a kiss.

HE’S SO CUTE OMG!! HOON YOU ARE SO CUTE LIKE THIS, STUPID MY ASS, YOU ARE THE SOFTEST BOYFRIEND EVER

After everything was done, the workers placed the hearts in each stuffed animal and closed them up before handing them to you. You both thanked them before looking at each other with determination in both of your eyes. “Sorry Hoonie, but I think I won this one. I got a penguin while you got a basic bear.”

He loudly gasped at your words, hands over his heart before placing the bear’s paw over their heart. “How could you? My bear is not basic! He is a classic with a customised scarf as a personal accessory. I for sure won this challenge, step down babe.”

“How does adding a scarf make it that much better, Hoon?”

He froze. “Hoon?” He bit his lip and turned his head to the side, not noticing that his cheeks and ears began to turn the lightest shade of red. “Hoon~, wanna answer me?” You teasingly ask him, closing the distance between the two of you. “Please..”

“IgavehimasimilarscarftotheoneIgaveyouwhenwestarteddatingandiputourinitialsonthescarfaswell…” Sunghoon said quickly, squeezing his eyes shut. This is embarrassing, too embarrassing for him.

“Sunghoon, I understand nothing from that. Could you repeat it again, a little slower this time?”

“Ishhhhh, okay. I gave him a similar scarf to the one I gave you when we started dating and I put our initials on the scarf as well…” His blush deepened to the point he started covering his face with his hands. You bit your lip in pure amusement and happiness.

Yep, I’m right. My boyfriend is the cutest thing ever, I love him so much

“Can I see?” He hurriedly nodded and pushed the bear in your direction. The classic brown bear with a different colour for the heart shaped paws and the scarf that did indeed have both of your initials in it. PSH <3 Y/N. You could feel your heart melt at the sight of something so simple yet weirdly touching. This man is too much for your heart. “You win, Hoonie. I-I don’t think I can beat this.”

He peeked out of the gaps between his fingers, “really?” He saw your nod and your shy smile and started smirking at you all smug like. “You really like it, huh?”

You push his face away and begin to walk towards the counter to pay for the build-a-bears, “don’t get too cocky, Park Sunghoon!” He followed after you with a loud laugh. “Oh yeah, what do you think we should name them?”

“Tofu for the penguin and Mapo for the bear?”

“Like mapo tofu, the dish? Just why?”

“Because mapo tofu is two parts that make a great dish together, just like how you and I make a great couple together and plus we made these build-a-bears together… also I’m kind of craving some mapo tofu right now.” You slapped his shoulder and chuckled at his dorky analogy. Mapo and Tofu, kind of cute.

“Hoon, do you still want to buy them some clothes?”

“Nah, I’m kind of tired. Spent too much time trying to win the competition. We can just buy them clothes next time if we want to and order some takeout at home..” He handed over his credit card and waited for the cashier to place the stuffed animals in the bags before heading out the store with you.

“So there’s a next time?” You cheekily grinned at him. You can see that shy smile that only shows when he’s admitting to something he judged too quickly but enjoyed.

“Maybe… It wasn’t so bad going to build-a-bear with you.” He wasn’t lying, it was pretty entertaining. Especially since he saw just how happy you looked while getting your penguin. It wasn’t so much that building a bear was fun but more on how fun it was to be with you. Okay, he’s lying a bit. Maybe building his own bear was pretty fun. But he won’t admit it. Cause who would ever think that the so-called ice prince would be so into building a bear?

I hope you all enjoyed reading this random fic, I'm hoping it was okay. All support is very much appreciated <;33

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soapisahimbo · 1 year

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NSFW ABC - Alejandro Vargas Edition

Ah yes, Alejandro! I asked you guys if you wanted to see Alejandro or Soap first, and while there weren't a whole lot of responses, the majority leaned towards our beloved Colonel Vaquero!

Contains heavy smut elements, so minors stay away!

Up next will be Soap MacTavish, but until then, I hope you enjoy this! Let me know what you think, and what else you would want to see!

warnings: senseless smut, alejandro may as well be gomez addams at this point, hinted at female reader, far too detailed for my own good, please help me

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

He will spend an exorbitant amount of time just kissing you, slowly and deeply, as a way of bringing you both back to reality. If you want to take a shower after, you're the one who needs to bring it up, because he is utterly at peace with just laying there with you for the remainder of the day or night. If you mention it, he'll hum out a "of course, querida" against your lips and lift you up in his arms even if you insist that you can walk (careful now, he might take it as a personal challenge to make sure that you can't next time).

Will keep kissing you while in the shower, and it feels a bit like kissing in the rain. You try to wash him off as best you can, but he won't turn around to let you scrub his back, not wanting to part his lips from yours any more than he absolutely has to. He will be diligent with washing you off, though; maybe a bit too diligent. His hands tend to wander when he has you like this, and you might need to keep him in check if you don't want to go for another round. If given the chance, he'll be down on his knees with his face between your legs and insist that he just can't help himself - "the things you do to me, cariña."

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

If you were to actually ask him how he felt about your body, he might see it as a cause for concern - are you doubting yourself or his feelings towards you? - but he'd grin and say, "My sweet, there's no part of your body that doesn't drive me wild." He is by no means lying, but when push comes to shove, if he really took the time to think about it, he'd come to realize that he has a specific weakness for your neck and chest. Your neck is where he buries his face and leaves the sweetest, most simmering kisses, and your chest is where he rests his head and marks you up the most when he has the chance to. He likes to plant his lips at your neck whenever he greets you, and licks and bites all over these spots during sex.

As for himself, he takes great pride in knowing that he's strong and capable, and that you like what you see. He's rarely fully clothed when at home with you and likes that you watch him whenever he walks by. He's probably most proud of his shoulders, chest and abdomen; loves it when you run your hands over them, when you trail kisses on the way down and when you leave scratches in the heat of the moment. He'll absolutely melt if you place your hand, or a kiss, over his heart.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Wants to be as deep in you as he can be when he cums, pushing his hips against yours as if the closest he can get still isn't close enough, and he wants to stay inside you like that for a while to savour the heat. He wants to fill you up, and he wants to do it properly. He sees it as something intimate, as something between true lovers, and will ask you if you feel it, deep inside you.

Especially when coming home to you from a mission, he'll make sure to cum in you as many times as he can, almost as if to make up for all the times he hasn't been able to, to remind both of you that this is where he belongs. Once he's pulled out, he'll almost want to cover your hole with something so that it won't leak out; he wants you to carry it in you for as long as possible.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

When the two of you started dating, you took it slow. Neither of you were in any rush, and he wanted to be sure that both of you really wanted this. He was flirtatious, but courteous; bold, but respectful. He'd give you a taste, then step back to let you think on it and see how you felt about it. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel pressured.

One night, you had invited him over for dinner and the two of you were simply chatting, sitting up close and cuddled in the couch with some drinks and dessert, soaking in the coziness of the moment. He told you he needed to excuse himself for a moment, planted a sweet kiss on your lips and headed to the bathroom. Nothing was out of the ordinary, until he turned to dry his hands on the towel and saw something hanging on the edge of your otherwise empty laundry basket. Before he realized what he was doing, he held a pair of black lace panties in his hand. He found himself running his thumb over the fabric that would rest against your most intimate part and his mouth watered.

For the rest of the evening, he felt like a child that knew he had done something bad and was waiting anxiously for his parents to find out, but you were none the wiser. Once it was time to call it a night, he gave you a loving goodbye, perhaps a bit more heated than usual, and left you flustered in the hall. It wasn't until he walked through his own front door that he nearly had a crisis, because in the back pocket of his jeans were the panties. That night, he sat in his bed with them tightly gripped in his hand, conflicted and unsure. He swallowed hard and ran his fingers over the fabric again, then held them to his face and gently inhaled the traces of your scent still left in it. He couldn't bring himself any further than that, and shoved them back into his pocket. He laid down, still fully dressed, and stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep that night while the scent of you still lingered in his nose, and his dick sat rock solid in his pants.

He secretly returned the panties to you the next time he visited you - a full week later (he had smelled them a couple of more times while he had them) - and that just so happened to be the first time you had sex with each other.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

He's got quite a bit of experience - he's been a popular man nearly all his life. He hasn't been the type to mindlessly sleep around, but he has had few passionate nights with strangers, and a few relationships that he, at the time, had hoped would've been true love. None of them turned out that way, and after a particularly bad breakup, he sort of locked that thought away in the back of his mind. Stayed pretty much celibate up until he met you, and once he had you and knew for a fact that this was real, he sure took his sweet time finding out how to make you tick.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

He's not at all picky; he just wants to see your face. Even if he's taking you from behind, he'll turn your head so that he can look into your eyes and kiss you. He likes being able to grind deep into you, and having your legs wrapped around him, so any position that can give him these things is highly favoured.

He will of course give you what you want - if you have some favourite positions of your own, he'll be sure to follow your lead to make sure that you're having just as good of a time as he's having (if not greater). He's not going to hold you back if you want to take control; if you want to go for a ride, he'll simply grin and lean back to watch.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

He absolutely loves laughing with you, and more often than not he'll have you grinning like a love-struck fool (don't worry, he looks like one too 99% of the time). He loves it if he can get a proper raucous, full on belly-laugh from you, the kind that'll have tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

He flirts with you nonstop, as if he's still trying to seduce you even though you're already naked and in bed with him. He'll tell you all sorts of seductive and dirty pickup-lines, switching regularly between English and Spanish. He's the type to walk in through the front door, or into the room you're in, and rock up to you like he's just laid eyes on you at a bar for the first time and plans to take you home for the night. He's got a bit of a cheeky sense of humour with you and he'll keep the dirty talk up for as long as the two of you are coherent.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

Thick and black hair running down the center of his abdomen to his groin. He's a bit of a hairy man overall, and doesn't do much to fix it. Might give it a trim every now and then, just to make sure it doesn't turn into a jungle. He washes himself regularly and thoroughly. Other than that, he doesn't give it much thought unless you point it out.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

Alejandro is nothing if not a passionate man; he wants to take everything that you can give him, and give everything he can in return to you.

But sometimes he just needs to love you, and be loved by you. Be it after a tough day, or having been away from you for an extended period of time, or just the burden of his line of work in general. There will be no flirting, no jokes, no teasing - any and all words he can muster up will be about how much he loves you and how he never wants to leave your side. He wants to be strong for you, to be your protector, but if you return those words and that same sentiment, if you tell him he's yours, that you love him and that he's safe with you, he might cry.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

Almost never. Not because he doesn't have urges; he has plenty of those. He thinks about you and he misses you when he's away, but he won't touch himself, for two reasons mainly.

First, focus. He has a will and determination of steel, and if he's on a mission, all of that goes into doing his job. Frankly, even though he thinks about you every day, he's too focused for any thought to cloud his mind - getting distracted doesn't belong in his line of work. It becomes a type of motivation for him in a way, because the sooner he gets through this, the sooner he can come back to you.

Second, conviction. He has an almost religious belief that that's to be shared with you, to be given to you. His pleasure is yours to have and yours to take.

The few times that he actually does touch himself will be the rare times he can get you on a phone or video call, and you can actually talk for more than ten minutes. But even then, those times are usually used for a more emotional reconnection and satisfaction rather than sexual.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Body worship to the highest degree. If you by any chance have any sort of insecurities about the size of your body, or the way you look, or the way you move, he will purge those thoughts out of your head. Funnily enough, that's not necessarily the reason he does it - he's just so in love with you and your body that any notion that it would be any less than divine practically doesn't exist to him. He'll sing your praises as if in a church, it's like you don't even get the chance to feel insecure about yourself. If you worship him in return, his mind will be fully occupied by you, and he won't be able to think of much else other than how lucky he is to have you and how honoured he is to have you treat him this way.

Loves leaving hickeys and bitemarks on you, and wants you to scratch him up, and if he's feeling extra spicy, he might blindfold you - "no distractions," he says. He would probably lose his mind if you dress up for him in pretty lingerie, and you might give him an actual heart attack if you give him a lap dance of any kind. Use that information wisely.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

You're pretty sure that you've christened practically every surface in every room in your home and he's no stranger to having you for dessert on the kitchen table, but he prefers the more cushioned areas, like the bed, the couch, and the lush carpet in your living room. The bed is definitely his favourite, because he feels like that's where the two of you can be the most at peace - it's where you can lock the rest of the world away and really just spend nothing but time with each other.

He doesn't really want to take any chances outside the safety of your home - just the idea of you getting caught and someone else seeing the two of you in such a vulnerable state (as well as your naked body) makes him uncomfortable.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

You do this thing when he scratches your scalp or back, or gives you massages; you usually sigh out in a groan as you melt into his hands, but he swears up and down that you're purring, and for some reason it drives him wild. He'll fuck you extra gentle just to hear you make that specific sound. You think he's purring when you massage him, though, so you don't bother to counter him. If Spanish isn't your native tongue, but you use it to flirt with him, he'll get an intensely mischievous glint in his eyes and ask that you keep talking like that.

He wants to treat you with the utmost respect and care, but as mentioned before, by God, if you surprise him with lingerie or treat him to a lap dance, you will practically hear something snap in his mind.

He's a sucker for your touch, too; run your hands over his arms, trace your fingers along his skin just above the waistband of his pants or your hands over his abdomen under his shirt, play with his hair at the nape of his neck and you'll have him turned into absolute putty for you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

He won't ever cause you any sort of harm, or speak to you in a way that is anything but loving. If you tell him that you want him to slap you or choke you, he'll be horrified that you would even think he'd be capable of doing such a thing to you. A loving smack on the ass is as far as he'll take it.

He'll also never want to invite anyone else to join you in the bedroom; he wants that to be between you and him only.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

You would think he's seen the face of his maker with the way he looks at you when you go down on him. He lets you set the pace, mumbling and groaning as you work him up. He'll stroke your hair out of your face, maybe hold it up in a ponytail if it's long enough, but he does very little to control you. He starts to slur when he gets closer and will try to warn you when you pick up speed, throws his head back then goes dead silent and stick stiff for a moment until he cums in your mouth with a loud groan. If you keep sucking on him, you'll give him full body shivers and he'll let out an almost startled moan as he starts swearing and telling you to slow down - "ah, calmate, c-calmate, baby, it's- mierda, baby, slow down!"

No matter what you tell him afterwards, he will return the favour. There doesn't even need to be a favour for him to return; it's practically a principle at this point to have you cum at least twice on his tongue before he actually fucks you. Wants you on his face and will hold on to you like a vice, leaving you very little room to wiggle and barely a chance to get away from him. This is probably the thing he's the absolute boldest with; he'll tell you straight up how badly he wants to use his mouth to make you cum and lick his lips, he'll do a 'V' with his fingers and mimic a lick between them from across the room when you make eye contact, he'll stick his tongue out and stare at you through his eyelashes as a drop of saliva drips down the length of it to the tip while you're out and about and no one is watching. Is it just you or is it getting hot in here?

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

He wants to take his time with you, but that doesn't mean he's taking it slow. Racing hearts, heaving breaths, dripping sweat; regardless of if it's fast or slow, he wants it hot and heavy. It's just shy of overwhelming, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

He'll be slower and more sensual when he feels that the moment is more emotional - when the two of you have shed tears at his return home and you need to catch up on lost time.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

If it wasn't clear by now, Alejandro is no "one-and-done"-kind of guy. Quickies are very rare; they only really happen if you were already undressed and something happens, like he gets a phone call from Rodolfo, Laswell or 141 and he needs to get going, but he doesn't want to just leave you. Firmly believes that sex deserves time in order to be truly emotionally and physically fulfilling, especially between established lovers.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? Etc.):

He'll throw some daring pickup lines and wink your way and maybe tease a bit while you're out and about, but other than that he wants to keep it inside the walls of your home. He's not afraid of trying new things, as long as it's between the two of you and as long as no one will get hurt.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

Which one of you will tap out first? Because that's kind of what dictates how long you go on. Sometimes it's you, sometimes it's him, but all in all, you can expect to get at least 2-3 rounds out of him (or 1 really long one). How many times you cum during those rounds may or may not be irrelevant (which is often why you're the one to tap out first, and you're pretty sure he does it on purpose).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

Cariña, reinita, preciosa - toys? When he's right there? No, no, no. "Mi corazón, since when do you need those? Am I not enough?"

He's joking, of course. He's got a massive grin on his face when he says it. If you need or prefer using toys, then he's not one to turn it down, but other than that he wants to be the one to bring you to climax. If you have a toy or two that you use while he's away, he won't fault you, but prepare for an endless amount of teasing when he returns.

"Isn't this just so much better than some piece of silicone? Can your toys ever replace this, huh?"

He's going to need some convincing if you want to use a toy on him, though. Maybe if you disguise it as a sort of challenge, or tell him very sweetly that you just want to try something, he might give it a go. But it's not going to be something that he'll think about often.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

The two of you can tease each other endlessly while out in public or hanging out at social gatherings, sure, but once you're behind locked doors and within arms' reach of each other, you're done for. He doesn't have a whole lot of patience to drag it out anymore than he already has, and if you try to keep him at bay to keep teasing, he might actually have an aneurysm. Don't drag it out too much, it's not good for the blood pressure.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

He's not necessarily loud, but he sure is vocal. He's always talking, breathy groans and moans into your neck and ears, he mumbles your name and numerous praises and sweet nothings. They vary in tone, from deep gruffs to some lighter and breathier sighs, but he never really goes higher than that. If you want him to shut up, you'll have to shut him up yourself. He likes hearing you, though, and if you're ever trying to stay quiet, he'll admonish you, tell you to let it out. If you stay stubborn, however, he might take it as a personal challenge.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

He really isn't that much of a jealous person - he trusts you with his life and he knows that you would never do anything to betray him. But there sure is something that rears its' ugly head inside him when he sees other people look your way, or when he sees other men approach you when he's not there with you. He knows that they wouldn't dare get near you if you were standing next to him, so the cowards try to shoot their shot when they think he's not looking.

And this ugly thing with its' head whisper in his mind, "go over there and show everyone who they belong to," "rip those clothes off and let everyone see how well you take them." But he settles with simply sauntering up to you, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into a searing hot kiss, right in front of their dumb fucking faces, pushing his tongue into your mouth and all. Once he pulls back, he turns to glare at them. They usually don't stick around for long after that, and he'll lean in close to you and tell you that he wants to go home now, because he might not show everyone how he does it, but he sure is going to take you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Solid 6-6.5 inches, damn near perfectly shaped and just the right thickness to hit all the sweetest spots inside you. A bit thicker in the middle, giving you a delicious stretch every time.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

Pretty high; he'll give in easily to you, but he needs just as much time with you not having sex. When he comes back home to you from longer missions and deployments, there will be about a week of you spending a whole lot of time in bed, but then it calms down a bit and leans more towards sweet cuddles and gentle kisses. You're still quite active and passionate, but the calmer moments in between are just as valuable and important.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

It might actually take him a while to fall asleep. He wants to check in on you first, and make sure that both of you are clean and comfortable. Once that's done, however, he'll wrap you up in his arms and hold you close as he closes his eyes and drifts off.

#alejandro vargas #cod mw2 #cod mw2 fic #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas smut #cod x reader

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bbsantc · 10 months

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my favorite bts fics so far (hyung!line)

hello lovely readers, i hope all of you are doing great. i've been wanting to make this post for a while now. i really want to share the amazing work and talent that many authors have on this app. as a literature fan and hopeless romantic myself, i made sure to pick out all the fics that i think are beautiful and amazing :)

disclaimers!!!!:

some of these fics contain nsfw content (minors dni), or some heavy themes, i am yoongi biased so excuse me if the fic ratio compared to the other members is waaayy bigger (like by a lot i am so so sorry), also this post is insanely long heh (once again, i am so so sorry :p), all pictures are from pinterest!

fluff- ♾️

angst- Ω

smut- ☻

crack/humor- ☼

i would sell my liver to read this again for the first time- ¶

Kim Seokjin

Turn Back Time- @raplinesmoon ♾️☼Ω☻

''pairing: baseball player!Seokjin x doctor!reader (based on the movie 13 Going On 30) genres/au/rating: fluff, humour, angst, smut, time travel au, 18+ summary: After total humiliation at his middle school baseball try outs, Kim Seokjin wants nothing more than for his awkward years to fade away until he’s thirty. Cue a magic baseball glove, and his wish is finally granted. Seokjin suddenly wakes up seventeen years later, now the star pitcher of the team he’d always dreamed of playing for. Confused and overwhelmed at the prospect of the new life waiting for him, he turns to the only person who seems to understand him — you. Will Seokjin learn what it truly means to be thirty, flirty, and thriving? Or will he find himself wishing he could turn back time?''

Every Year- @another-army-spot ♾️Ω☻

''Pairing: Jin x Reader, some implied Yoongi x reader and Namjoon x reader

Word: 15.6K

Genre: friends-to-lovers!au, richkids!au, chef!Jin, bookworm!oc, hard fluff, smut angst?

Summary: As the daughter of the Kim’s closest friends, you’ve attended their extravagant annual New Year’s party since the year you were born. No matter what you always spend time with your favorite childhood friend, Jin, who has always been there for you. Here are the highlights of you and Jin realizing just how important you two are to each other.''

Let's get married as a joke- @burningupp Ω♾️

''Genre: angst, fluff

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader

Wordcount: 8210 (I’m so sorry)

Summary: Your best friend Jin has always had a talent of getting you into trouble. Maybe that’s why you’re not surprised that he asks you to marry him as a joke - or that you agree.''

friends get married all the time- @hobipost♾️

''The silly promise you made ten years ago comes back to bite your asses, and you’re both too weak to pretend it never happened

pairing: seokjin x f. reader

genres/tropes: friends to lovers, fluff

words: 2k+''

Min Yoongi

series:

The Truth Between Us- @jimlingss @gukyi ♾️Ω ☼ ¶

“⇒ summary: a book deal should be the most exciting time of your life, but there seems to be a constant and omnipresent damper on your mood in the form of a certain min yoongi, who you would just cut out from your life, if he weren’t your editor. but then, the world shifts beneath your feet, and you begin to wonder if maybe you’ve always been looking at life from the wrong angle.

⇒ enemies to lovers au with various other au’s thrown in there

⇒ word count: 14k (first chapter)

⇒ genre: fluff, angst, drama”

Dating advice- @taleasnewastime ♾️Ω☻

''Summary: It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: fluff; angst; smut

Word count: 54k

Status: Complete''

unexpected lovers- @jjkeverlast ♾️Ω☻

''-> pairing artist!yoongi x female reader

-> genre fake dating!au, romantic comedy

-> summary what happens when you meet min yoongi at the club, or well accidentally use him as your pawn to not get hit on. not knowing your cousins friend overhears and suddenly your whole family knows.

-> word count 19.8k''

Only Yesterday- @borathae ♾️☻Ω ¶

'' “Your life in a small countryside village was nothing of the extraordinary, you owned a quaint little teashop, enjoyed warm evenings in your garden and liked taking walks by the river. One day a handsome stranger moves in the abandoned cottage opposite side of the river and it is not long that he becomes a source of comfort in your life.”

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: s2l!AU, Neighbours!AU, Teashop!AU, Slice of Life!AU, Romance, Fluff, Smut

Warnings: This is a very feel good story, meant to comfort the soul and warm the heart. However it contains talks about car accidents and memory loss, as well as sexually explicit scenes. If you are sensitive to such topics I advise you read with care.

Wordcount: 78.620''

Signed in Black- @yoon-kooks♾️☻

''Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, BadBoy!AU, FLUFF, Smut [in future chapters]

Summary: Min Yoongi. That was the name magically tattooed to your skin. You were told he was your lover by fate. And as cute as it would be to have a soulmate, Yoongi was the last person you ever wanted to be bound to. But thankfully, there was a way to remove the tattoo. All you had to do was convince six Bulletproof Fairies that the two of you were in love.

Word Count: 3.3k'' (first chapter)

neon signs- @pantoneyoongi ♾️¶

''title ; neon signs [ drabble series ] pairing ; campus crush!yoongi x campus crush!you

description ; namjoon doesn’t think it can get any clearer outside of yoongi building a giant neon sign saying i have the absolute biggest crush on you but apparently, book smarts don’t exactly translate when it comes to you and your massive crush on min yoongi.

(alternatively: namjoon and hoseok try for three years straight to get you and yoongi together.)''

Reflection of You- @agustdakasuga ♾️Ω ¶

''Genre: Historical!AU, Timetraveller!AU/ Different Dimension, Romance

Pairing: SUGA x Reader, Yoongi x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Idol!Suga, King!Yoongi, Guard!Seokjin, Guard!Jungkook, RoyalAdvisor!Namjoon, Servant!Jimin, Servant!Hoseok, Prince!Taehyung

Summary: Confirming you were dating the famous Min Suga of BTS, you knew you were bound to make some enemies. But what you didn’t expect was to be cursed, leading you to meet a cold-hearted, arrogant king that shares the same face as your rapper lover. ''

your universe- @muniimyg ♾️☻Ω ☼

''in which min yoongi refuses to lose you

regretting rejecting oc, min yoongi goes through a circus load of gestures and tasks in attempt to be loved again

pairings:

basketball captain // tsundere yoongi + sunshine // preschool edu major oc

au/genre:

friends to lovers

uni au

one sided pining / rejection / redemption / a sad excuse of a slow burn

smut, crack, angst

social media au + written

warnings:

implied + actual smut

angst (oc is heartbroken and trying to move on from being initially rejected)

name calling, love/hate friendships, big egos, overprotective friends, childish social culture, and a burnt out era <;3

parts:

ongoing ( ongoing/25 )''

andante cantabile- @kkulfm-2 ♾️☻¶

''pairing: myg x f!reader

genre: historical / regency au, fluff, smut

wc: 30.6k + 3.8k smutty bonus

summary: You are convinced Mr. Min is nothing but a rude and gloomy man after he leaves a horrible first impression on you. His friends' attempts to convince you otherwise are met with mixed success.''

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

oneshots:

Man of The Year- @raplinesmoon ♾️¶

''pairing: single dad!Yoongi x gn!reader genre(s): pure fluff, very minor angst au(s): graduation au word count: 2.7k warnings: some swearing, Yoongi is a little nervous, Yoongi is bad at flirting, this is so cute I could cry

rating: PG

summary: For the longest time, it’s always been Yoongi and his daughter, celebrating every milestone of life together. But today, that could change.''

Shut Eye- @alpacaparkaseok ♾️

''pairing/genre: idol!Yoongi x reader, fluff

premise: In a world where every night you meet your soulmate in your dreams only to forget their face and voice when you wake up, you’re now more desperate than ever to find them.

word count: 2.6k''

gold- @aquagustd Ω♾️☻

''↣ you’re in love with Min Yoongi, yes, you are, but why do you keep thinking of the boy who broke your heart into a million pieces when you should be focusing on the one who’s mending it.

pairing: yoongi x reader (past jungkook x reader)

genre: angst, fluff, smut, bff2l

word count: 17K''

stood up. -@parkdatjimin Ω☻♾️

''Three years after dumping your toxic boyfriend, you decide it's finally time to try the dating scene again. What you don't expect is for a handsome and confident CEO to come to your rescue after being stood up.

"Just play along. My name is Yoongi and whoever stood you up is a douche."

Pairings: CEO!yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: HEAVY angst, smut, lil fluff, slice of life, mutual pining, non-idol!au''

First-Date BAIT!- @jimlingss ♾️

''Words: 11.3k

Genre: Fluff

First dates are embarrassing. First dates are awkward. I’ve been through countless ones, sitting across from people who bored the living daylights out of me. It was less exciting than watching paint dry. Some dates were so utterly rude - I think you and I both know what it’s like to be on the receiving end on that. But now we both don’t have to waste our time anymore!

With First Date Bait they went out for me! Afterwards, they informed me if it was recommended to go out on a second date. It’s amazing with a 99.99% accuracy rate! That’s how I ended up meeting my husband!

First Date Bait. Why waste your time with awkward first dates?''

DreamCatcher- @jimlingss ♾️Ω

''Words: 13k (oops)

Genre: Fluff & Angst

Summary: When your dreams are more or less nightmares, monsters inside your head that eat you alive, it seems like the only person who can help you is Min Yoongi, professional dream chaser.''

Purr-haps I like you- @taleasnewastime ♾️

''Summary: You have a no pets policy where you live, but when you find a tiny kitten in a box on the side of the road, what can you do but bring it home with you? The only problem? The landlord who made the no pets rule, also happens to be your flatmate.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: pure fluff; Flatmates au

Word count: 11.6k''

Wild Strawberries- @yoonia ♾️☻

''➤ Character / Genre: Min Yoongi x reader/female OC (told through Yoongi’s POV) | Lucid Dream!au, fluff, smut''

first love- @jungnoir Ω♾️

''⇢ summary: yoongi meets you, seated next to him at a familiar brown piano, and he steals you away hours before your wedding day, seated next to him at a familiar brown piano + yoongi’s been in love with you since childhood and he only has the courage to tell you when you’re about to marry someone else.

⇢ relationship: min yoongi/reader.

⇢ genre: best friend!au, angst, romance.

⇢ words: 5.6k''

strike a chord- @snackhobi ♾️☻¶

''pairing: yoongi x reader // word count: 15.8k // genre: smut

summary: your idea of a good night certainly doesn't involve being stood up by yet another blind date and finding yourself alone in a fancy bar; fortunately for you, there's an attractive man playing the piano to keep you busy, instead.''

Anyone But The Groom- @yoonjinkooked ♾️Ω☻

''❅ Summary: After a meet-cute that brings all the romcoms to shame, you realize that for once in your life, the stars have finally aligned and presented you a guy that might be able to make you believe in love at first sight. Only to find out that you’re in charge of planning his Christmas Eve Wedding.

❅ Pairing: Yoongi x female reader

❅ AU: Wedding Planner reader x Arranged Marriage groom Yoongi

❅ Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, will-they-won’t-they type of relationship

❅ Word Count: 36.5k (I AM SO SORRY)''

Not Even a Mouse- @softyoongiionly ♾️☻¶

''Summary: The week before Christmas, you are tasked with delivering some paperwork to your father’s former business partner in order to secure your ownership of their legendary toy store. However, things don’t go as planned and a sudden blizzard keeps you cooped up inside the tiniest town you’ve ever seen, Snow Falls. You keep telling yourself that it’s the weather that’s keeping you here, but after a visit to Min’s Mini Mart, you aren’t so sure anymore…

Pairing: Single Dad! Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Romance, FLUFF, Smut (18+ only please)''

All I Want for Christmas (ft. Yoongi)- @hayjeon ♾️Ω

''→ singledad, CEO!yoongi x secretary!reader→ 13k words''

ceo!yoongi- @jungshookz ♾️☻☼ ¶

''→ pairing: min yoongi x reader

→ genre: ceo!au, clumsy!y/n because that’s always nice, jimin is ur best friend, floofy fluff, a touch of nsfw aka office sex

→ wordcount: 21k+ so u should probably read this using ur laptop and not ur phone''

first love | myg- @lavienjin ☻Ω

''synopsis: After an incredibly long day, Yoongi found you crying in the copy room. Though he doesn’t talk much, you’ve always found his presence comforting, and it didn’t surprise you when he stayed and listen to you vent. However, while you sought comfort in his embrace, he proposed a special offer to reduce your stress with the magic of his hands. The only catch to your arrangement? You couldn’t fall in love.

But wouldn’t you know it, just as your friendship deepens into something more, you find an old notebook sitting on his bookshelf, and in it, a collection of poems. The last entry has you reeling because it’s addressed to you. And in that page, a single line is written: Without you, I am nothing

pairing: yoongi x reader

wc: 11.3k

genre/rating/au: 18+ | fwb, coworkers, f2l au | smut, angst

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, semi public sex, multiple smut scenes, multiple orgasms, oral (m. & f. receiving), masturbation, exhibition, lots of feelings. like a lot of feelings :(''

A Boy Like You | Yoongi- @cinnaminsvga ♾️¶

''→ summary: for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you.

{or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

→ genre: coworker!au, f2l, fluff''

when the stars align- @itskimtaehyung ♾️Ω

''Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: FakeDating!AU with a hint of roommates (well actually more like apartment-mates but roommates is catchier), College!AU, fluff, angst

Word count: 10.5k

Content/Warnings: Mentions of heavy drinking, drug usage, strong language, but also cute things like adopting a dog together

Summary: With cuffing season approaching its end, you thought you had escaped the pressures of finding a boyfriend for the holidays. That is, until your friends set you up on a blind date that goes horribly wrong. This prompts you to enlist the help of your roommate, Yoongi, to fake a relationship so your friends will stop meddling in your love life. And it turns out Yoongi is a lot better at this romance thing than you originally thought…''

p.o.v | myg- @jtrbluv ♾️Ω

''summary: you were eight when you first met your soulmate. then you were eighteen when you realized that the boy who just got hired at the local record store next door, is also your soulmate. the issue at hand: you are the only one that knows.

pairing: yoongi x reader (fem)

genre: fluff, angst, soulmate!au, redstringoffate!au, college!au, high school!au

word count: 17.9k''

Yoongi is a Rock- @yoongsisbae ♾️Ω ¶

''rock!Yoongi x reader :D fluff a bit of angst a lot of silliness

Word Count 1.3k''

android!yoongi- @jungshookz♾️Ω☻☼ ¶

''→ pairing: min yoongi x reader

→ genre: android!au becauSe for some reason android aus are popping up everywhere, the usual heaping serving of fluff and comedy, N S F W like reALLY nsfw i poPPED OFF this time i don’t know even know what happened,,, forgive me god for i have sinned, a n g s t, i definitely teared up a little writing this because i was listening to kim bum soo’s i miss you and it made me 100x more emo

→ trigger warnings: this does get a little intense! beware!!

→ wordcount: 24k like that bruno mars song''

you’re so concerned about the ending that you don’t even know the plot- @joonsgalaxy ♾️☼

''° yoongi x reader x taehyung

° 1.9 k words ° fluff/humour

🌟 you bring your broken laptop to Tae—the IT specialist—who you have a crush on. you drag your bff Yoongi along with you, who—you’re certain—has a crush on Tae too. what a mess, right? well, the thing is, you never even considered the possibility of your assumptions being totally wrong.''

better place- @cupofteaguk ♾️

''summary: you might be in love with childhood best friend Min Yoongi, and he might be in love with you—and everyone seems to know it. except for the two of you.

pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

genre: hogwarts au, friends to lovers au | fluff

warnings: slow burn, alcohol consumption, truly lowkey an idiots to lovers au word count: 14k''

something to hold on to- @fantasybangtan ♾️Ω ¶

''❦ word count. 17.7k ❦ genre. parent fic, fluff, angst, a bit of boob action ❦ warnings. illness, mention of hospitalisation, mention of minor character death, yoongi is kind of a dick sometimes, accidental(?) flashing ❦ summary. it’s not that you don’t like your job. on the contrary, reading bedtime stories to a certified little princess is something you still can’t believe you get paid to do. it’s just that between all the school runs, snow days and secret second hot chocolates before bed, you may fallen a little too hard for those dimpled cheeks and gummy smiles…. worse still, you’ve fallen for her father too.''

the proposal- @dreamescapeswriting ♾️Ω☻

''WORD COUNT: 35K (No its not missing a decimal point)

PAIRING: CEO!Yoongi x Assistant!Reader

GENRE: Smut, enemies to lovers, CEO x Assistant, fake marriage, angst, movie inspired, slow burn''

basketballcaptain!yoongi- @jungshookz ♾️☻☼ ¶

''→ pairing: min yoongi x reader

→ genre: basketball captain x water girl, cheesy cheesy stuff, the FLUFFIEST fluff, jungoo is an idiot, humour, nSFW = smut, cocky yoongi, spoiler alert yoongi does a body shot off of u it just be like that sometimes

→ wordcount: 18.4k this will definitely make the app crash as per usual don’t come for me''

Hug-o-gram- @cinnaminsvga ♾️☼ ¶

''→ summary:

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au,fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to scream, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: 13.3K''

I Wanna Hold Your Hand- @minisugakoobies ♾️

''Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, fluff, Roommates!AU

Rating: T

Warnings: pining, a lil’ smooching, Yoongi is very persuasive, reader is easily duped, it’s as fluffy as freshly fallen snow

Word Count: 1.4K

Disclaimers: None, other than obviously I don’t own BTS - they simply inspire me

Summary: It’s hand-holding season, according to your roommate.''

subtle- @joonary ♾️Ω

''↳ summary: just another memory added to the long list of drunk memories that you’ll forget but wish you’d remember, while yoongi will remember but wish he could forget.

↳ genre: fluff; light angst; friends (?) to lovers (?); min yoongi x reader

↳ rating: pg-13

↳ warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, and yoongi’s soft spots being exposed to the light of day. yknow, just another joonary fic.

↳ word count: 3.5k''

Hobi's Girl- @jjungkookislife Ω☻

''↬ pairing: f. reader x Hoseok, f. reader x Yoongi

↬ genre: smut [18+], angst

↬ summary: Yoongi had a wonderful night with you… but you’re Hobi’s girl.

↬ wc: 4.8k''

The King Isn’t Dead- @another-army-spot ♾️Ω☻

''Pairing: Yoongi x oc (fem)

Rating: M

Word: 19.7k~ (my finger slipped?)

Genre: historical fic, smut, romance, fluff, angst, political upheaval shit

Summary: After the invasion and the King’s miraculous survival, the nation aims to secure stability and his position of power through the prospect of marriage and continuing the Min line. As a promise to your brother on the battlefield, the King promises to consider you as his potential wife - to love and to protect. Or maybe it’ll be the other way around?''

the landlord- @ppersonna ☻

''↳ summary- your air conditioner breaks right at the height of a recordbreaking heat wave. good thing your hot landlord, yoongi, knows how to attend to any needs you may have.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 4.3k

↳ pairing- yoongi x reader

↳ genre- smut, light crack, PWP''

CYBERSEX- @gimmethatagustd ♾️☻☼

''The whole point of being a phone sex hotline operator is that you’ll never have to meet your clients. So what are you supposed to do when you find out your favorite client is your brother’s best friend?

» pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

» wc/date: 14.6k | July 2022

Jung Hoseok

hot rod- @kinktae ♾️☻

''a 1950′s inspired fic where greaser Hoseok can’t keep his eyes, or hands, off the new waitress at his and his boys’ favorite diner.

pairing: greaser!hoseok x reader

word count: 10k

genre: 1950s au, smut, fluff''

Kim Namjoon

The Bodyguard- @rmnamjoons ♾️☻Ω

''➳ summary: You’re the daughter of the ambassador to a small, peaceful, barely-on-the-map country in Western Europe, working as a diplomat to help your mother with her endless meetings and politics. After a kidnapping attempt gone wrong, you and your protective bodyguard Namjoon are on the run across Europe, jumping from trains, stealing cars, and pretending to be a couple on your honeymoon to stay hidden. As the would-be kidnappers close in, Namjoon promises you that he’s going to keep you safe, no matter the cost.

➳ pairing: bodyguard!Namjoon x reader

➳ genre: bodyguard au, romance, smut, fake dating/fake marriage, road trip (kinda), very slight angst

➳ word count: 62.9k – this is a complete, VERY long oneshot''

Show Me How- @imaginationofacrazyfangirl ☻ ¶

''Summary:You swiped right on a nerd, instead you got a Greek God. Or tired of your virginity, you decide to throw caution to the wind and find a hook up on tinder.

— PAIRING: Namjoon x f!reader

— GENRE: smut. 18+ minors dni.''

I'll continue in a pt.2

(tumblr doesn't let me write more lmao)

972 notes · View notes

fandomxpreferences · 1 year

Text

Heartbroke Bitch

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Ex!Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

TW: 18+, drug and alcohol use, angst, fluff, self destructive behavior, I think thats it

Summary: When youre left heartbroken, you cope in a less than healthy way. But what happens when Rafe sees you hanging on the arm of one of his best friends? (Loosely based off Escapism by Raye)

Word count:3.2k

A/N: Let me know if you want a part 2!

Ever since that night, you've been a different person. Rafe ending things sent you reeling and the words keep playing in your head like a record.

"It's just not going to work. I'll have Sarah drop off your things."

That was all he gave you before all but kicking you out. He didn't even have the respect to give you a reason, though you've come to the conclusion it's because you're a pogue. You and Rafe never should have started anything in the first place; you knew you were playing with fire.

JJ and John B tried to talk sense into you, but you were too lovestruck. All you cared about was the misunderstood kook king, and now you're heartbroken. The first week you cried and drank as the group tried to get through to you.

The following weekend, you went out to a kegger at the boneyard and saw Missy Thompson giggling into Rafe's ear and something inside you snapped. You were tired of feeling hurt, so you decided to beat him at his own game.

"Where are you going dressed like that?"

There's a teasing lilt to Sarah's voice, but you don't miss the concern in her eyes. She already knows the answer to her question. You've spent the last three weeks staying out until sunrise, various drugs coursing through your veins and different men sneaking out every morning.

Your eyebrow quirks as you look down at your less-than-modest outfit and shrug.

"Out. I was invited to that new club."

JJ frowns and stands to walk over to you. He stops a few feet away and you look at him expectantly.

"Again? Y/N/N, you can't keep doing this. I mean I'm always down for a good time, but you're going to hurt yourself."

The pain in his voice causes your chest to tighten and you roll your eyes to cover it up. That's exactly why you're doing this; you're tired of feeling hurt and so far losing yourself in white powder and men whose outfits cost more than your car has proven to be effective.

"So what if I do? I'll be fine, JJ. Don't worry your pretty little head." You smile while patting him playfully on the arm.

They watch as you walk off and give each other worried looks, unable to do anything but stand by as you set out on a path of self-destruction.

An hour later you're in the VIP section sipping on champagne that's expensive enough to solve all your money problems and having a great time. The music is loud enough to drive your thoughts away and you let yourself get lost in the moment.

You aren't sure who the people here are; you've made a lot of new acquaintances since going out more and you just happened to strike up a conversation with the man that brought you here. You're not even sure what his name is.

You think it's something along the lines of Andrew, or maybe Everett. You don't really care enough to remember; you just know it's something pretentious that reeks of old money. Not that it matters much. By morning he'll just be another notch in your belt and you'll never see him again.

You're just about to do a shot when a familiar voice calls your name. You look up with a frown, trying to place where it came from. A smile breaks out when you place its owner and Topper plops down next to you.

His arm wraps loosely around your shoulder and you lean in a bit, happy to have someone you know around.

"Didn't expect to see you here."

Topper isn't exactly known for tolerating - much less liking - pogues but he grew fond of you during your time with Rafe.

You nudge him lightly with your shoulder and he grins.

"A pleasant surprise, I hope."

He leans in a little closer and nods. You can't help but notice his spicy yet sweet cologne as his body heat radiates against your skin and it's almost as intoxicating as the alcohol.

"Very pleasant. You smell good. Like cotton candy and tanning oil."

Your eyebrows raise at the forward comment and you let your eyes drop down to look at his lips.

"You like it?"

The other man is long forgotten as Topper invades your personal space and suddenly your target changes.

"I love it. What is it?"

You lean back with a laugh and the way his body chases yours isn't lost on you. The game is afoot and you've discovered you love the thrill of the chase.

"Something expensive. That's all I'll say, a lady never reveals her secrets."

His smile turns devilish and his nose presses against the column of your throat to inhale your scent again.

"Something tells me you're not much of a lady."

Butterflies erupt in your stomach as he flirts back and your hand laces in his hair to tug his head back.

"You have no idea, Top."

Your words hang in the air for a moment before he pulls you closer so you're halfway on his lap. You watch as he pulls out a baggy and waves it at you suggestively, your face lighting up as you nod while he sets it up on the table.

You don't think twice before bending down and snorting a couple lines, tilting your head back with closed eyes. This has become a regular occurrence for you, and Topper lets out a surprised laugh before copying your previous movements.

"Didn't take you as the type to do party drugs." He admits and you press farther into him.

"Mmm, there's a lot you don't know about me."

A few minutes later you're both feeling the effects and you gladly follow Topper as he takes your hand and leads you to the dance floor. You aren't paying attention to what song is playing as you grind on your ex-boyfriend's friend, your hands wrapped around his neck as he nips at your shoulder.

Rafe immediately feels annoyed as he walks into the loud venue, his first instinct being to turn around and leave. Before everything with you, this would have been his scene. However, despite being the one to call it quits, he's been having an exceptionally hard time.

He thought it would be easy to move on, but every time he tries, his thoughts are consumed by you. He gave up hope after he moaned out your name with another woman and she slapped him before storming out. He didn't realize he was in love with you until he watched your tail lights fade in the rain.

He downs a shot to settle his nerves, the burning sensation distracting him from the thumping bass. He's just about to take a seat when his eyes land on you. Bile rises in his throat as he watches you party without a care in the world.

He thinks this hurts worse than the initial breakup. Seeing you laugh and dance as if you aren't feeling the same heartache as him is bitter and he doesn't like it.

He knows he's the one that tossed your relationship in the trash, but he thought he meant more to you. At least enough for you not to be living it up a month after he left.

You were never one for the. club scene, and he's honestly not sure why you're here. It's not until you bump into him on the way to take another shot that he really takes you in.

You stop to apologize and his eyebrows pinch when it takes you a second longer than it should to realize who he is. Recognition finally crosses your features and much to his surprise, you give him a short hug with a smile.

"Hey, Rafe."

He stares at you in shock for a second, trying to figure out why you seem so unbothered by his presence. He's certainly not feeling as relaxed with you standing a foot away. An unfamiliar scent washes over him and he realizes it's coming from you.

He's always loved the way you smell, and that is certainly not your usual perfume and body lotion. It almost makes him sick to his stomach. His eyes rake over your face for a moment as he tries to place what's so different about you.

He doesn't even recognize the woman in front of him and his heart breaks as the realization sets in that this is his fault. He broke you.

Your body is covered in a skin-tight dress that's six inches too short and glitter. He notices you seem taller than usual and his eyes pan down to the sky-high stilettos on your feet.

That's not what concerns him most though. You're clearly drunk as you struggle to keep your balance and your pupils are completely blown.

If he had to guess he'd say coke or Molly, maybe both based on your apparent indifference to your life. Either way, it makes his stomach turn and he barely resists the urge to break Topper's hands as they sit a little too close to your ass.

"Hi."

It's all he can manage as guilt and pain consume him and he wants nothing more than to go back in time. He doesn't get to say anything else before you're stumbling away, resembling a newborn fawn.

He ignores his friends' protests as he pulls out his phone and steps outside. His thumb finds Sarah's contact and he presses the call button without hesitation. The line rings a few times before she answers and he leans against the brick wall.

"What do you want?"

There's music in the background and he knows he's interrupting her night but he can't bring himself to care.

"Is Y/N okay?"

There's a moment of silence before his sister sighs and his eyes squeeze shut.

"Rafe, you lost the right to ask about her."

He knows she's right, but he's going to get answers even if he has to drive to the cut himself.

"I know, okay? I know. But I'm at this night club and she looks absolutely wasted. I'm worried."

He can almost hear her mulling over her next words on the other end of the line when she finally responds.

"We all are. Between me and you, she's been on a bender. She's gone out almost every night since the breakup. She comes back completely fucked up with random men at like 6 am. We thought it would pass, but it seems like she's not slowing down anytime soon."

His stomach lurches at the idea of you going home with strangers while completely intoxicated and he takes a deep breath. He hates that he's been sulking while you've been sleeping around, but that's not what's at the forefront of his mind.

His main concern is your safety. He knows that sooner or later you'll take too much or trust the wrong man and something will happen.

"Thanks."

He hears her start to ask something but doesn't wait to listen, quickly ending the call and heading back in. He's on a war path to find you and when he does, his blood boils.

You're laid on a table while Topper does a body shot off you and his feet carry him forward before his brain can catch up. He rips his friend backward and Topper is about to cuss him out when he sees the look on his face.

His hands come up in surrender and before you can process, you're being thrown over Rafe's shoulder and carried outside. Your arms and legs flail as you slap at his back and his grip tightens.

"Fucking put me down!" Your voice is slurred but loud, and your heels click as your feet hit the pavement.

You take a second to get your bearings before snapping your head up to glare at your ex-boyfriend.

"What the fuck, Rafe?!"

Your anger does nothing to deter him and his arms cross over his chest as he blocks you from going back inside.

"I could ask you the same thing."

His voice is firm yet gentle as he looks at you and it pisses you off.

"Actually, you can't, asshole. What I do is none of your business."

He scoffs and if you weren't so far gone, you'd probably take your shoe off and stab him with it. All of this is sobering you up and you definitely need to be high to deal with this conversation.

"This isn't you. Why are you doing this?"

It's a stupid question, he's aware of this. Still, he wants to hear you say it.

"Maybe it is. You don't know who I am anymore."

The words are harsh as you snap at him and his fists clench while he tries to hide how much it hurt him.

"Yes, I do. So I'll ask one more time. Why are you doing this?"

He softens when he notices the way your chest is heaving and you're gnawing on your lip the way you always do when you're trying to fight back tears.

"Because I don't want to feel how I did that night, okay? I want to be numb. Is that what you want to hear?"

His heart clenches when your voice wobbles and he reaches out to grab your hand. Pain shoots through him when you recoil from his touch and take a step back.

"Don't fucking touch me."

His hand drops back to his side and his mind spins as he tries to figure out how to fix this. That first week was hell, especially when you sent him drunk texts and left voicemails with jumbled words. He figured you were drinking away your sorrows the same as him, but he never imagined it was this bad.

He fought the urge to call you back and fall to his knees while he begged for another chance. He figured pushing you away was in your best interest. He knows you think he did it because you're a pogue; Sarah called to chew him out over it.

If that's what helped, he was happy to let you believe it. In reality, it couldn't be farther from the truth. He didn't care about that at all. He knows he's fucked up and all he did was hurt you.

He figured cutting ties and letting you find someone else was the better alternative to hurting you over and over again.

He knows that you would never leave him, even if you should. So he decided to do it for you.

"Okay, I won't touch you. Just please come back with me so I know you're safe. You don't have to talk to me or look at me the entire time if you don't want. Just crash in the guest room and I'll take you back to John B's in the morning."

You know it's a bad idea, but you're starting to come down and you really miss how comfy the beds at Tannyhill are. He does an internal victory dance when you nod your head and has the valet pull the car around.

The ride back is dead silent, but he doesn't mind. He's just happy to have you back in his passenger seat where you belong. It's a relatively short drive, and before you know it he's pulling into the long familiar driveway.

He opens the door for you and you have to remind yourself not to grab his hand the way you normally would. He puts his hand in his pocket to keep from placing it on the small of your back and lets you take the lead.

An amused smile splits his face when you stop to take your shoes off and thrust them into his stomach. He takes them without any hesitation and carries them without complaint.

This is familiar to him; your feet always hurt at the end of the night and it wasn't uncommon for him to end up carrying you or toting your shoes and bag around while you were dating.

He even went as far as keeping a pair of flats in his truck; they're still in the back seat and he kicks himself for not remembering to offer them to you.

"You're back ear-"

Rose stops mid-sentence when she sees you, and Rafe shoots her a look that tells her not to ask questions. His heart leaps as you trek up the stairs, the path second nature to you.

He isn't expecting you to swing the door to his room open though and he wonders if it's intentional or just because you're too inebriated to realize.

He takes a detour to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and painkillers before joining you. He stops in his tracks when he sees you rummaging through his closet and watches as you pull out your favorite hoodie of his, struggling to put it on.

He debates offering to help before deciding not to push his luck. You're already back in his room when he never thought he'd see it again. The last thing he wants to do is drive you away.

He stands in place as you crawl under his comforter and settle into your side of the bed, nuzzling your head into the soft pillow. His scent is overwhelming and it brings you comfort.

You're sure you'll regret this tomorrow, but right now all you can focus on is being back in his white Egyptian cotton sheets.

He hesitates for a second before going into the bathroom and grabbing a washcloth and moisturizer. His movements are calculated as he sits on the edge of the mattress and starts wiping away your makeup.

You don't protest and he takes that as his sign to continue. Once your face is clean, he rubs the expensive lotion that you love into your face, making sure to use upwards movements the way he always saw you do.

He grabs a pair of joggers and starts to leave when your voice rings out.

"Just get in the fucking bed, Rafe."

He doesn't need to be told twice and moves at lightning speed as he slips off his shirt and throws on his sweatpants. He makes sure to leave plenty of space and his heart stops when you roll over and lay on his chest.

You seem to sense that he's about to say something because your hand comes up to cover his mouth.

"Don't ruin it with words. Just enjoy it while it lasts."

He nods against your palm and you return your arm to its previous resting place across his abdomen. He hears his phone vibrate and grabs it off the nightstand, careful not to disturb you. You're already snoring softly when he unlocks the screen.

There's a text from Sarah.

Do you know if Y/N is okay? We can't get ahold of her and Topper said she left with you.

He snaps a quick photo of your sleeping figure and sends it. Her response is a red heart and he locks the phone before setting it back down. He settles in and falls into a peaceful slumber, elated to have you back in his arms.

#Rafe Cameron #Rafe Cameron imagine #Rafe Cameron fic #Rafe Cameron x reader #Rafe Cameron angst #Rafe Cameron fluff #Rafe Cameron outer banks #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks angst #outer banks fluff

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yeyinde · 9 months

Text

lavender skies | Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader

Then suddenly, and all at once, there's a loudness in your head: a hundred whispers echoing in time to the same off-beat rhythm, full of memories and moments shared between you, threads woven throughout the years all buoying to the surface as you realise you're a little bit in love with him. (And that, maybe, you've been a little bit in love with him the whole time.)

tags: friends to lovers (but the type of friends who are basically already dating and everyone knows except them - until suddenly they do), mutual pining. Slight Kent bashing, oops. Golden Girls as a coping mechanism. warnings: none. very tame, considering who I am as a person. Heavy make-out sess, though. word count: 6,6k notes: This has been sitting in my requests forever (I lost the original, but the gist was: Gaz + pining + idiots in love). You can blame a lot of this on summer rain and 80s city pop. Been going to the pier and listening to it while I wrote this. Not my best, sure, but it was fun.

The Tinder date he warned you not to go on (and seriously, mate, who uses Tinder anymore?) ends like this:

Your date, the biggest gentleman in Kent, as proclaimed in his bio (a red flag in hindsight—there's no such thing as a gentleman from Kent), sneaks his number to the waitress, and then leaves you behind in downtown Manchester to go bar hopping with a group he just met.

It's not a great loss. All things considered, it's not even the worst date you've ever been on. It was just a spur-of-the-moment whim—equal parts anxiety and megrim: the sudden fear of being single forever (and no, despite what Kyle might say, it has nothing to do with the wedding invitation you'd gotten on Facebook, or the three others that came before it)—and therefore, there isn't much to be upset about. Not really.

But the world doesn't work on half-hearted lies and shaky truths, and on a dank little corner in Manchester, abandoned by your ride home, your abysmal date who barely looked at you, you can't deny that it hurts. That it's a little bit of a hit to your self-esteem in a way that makes you angrier than you were before, because, honestly—he wasn't even a catch to begin with.

Stupid.

You should have listened to Kyle, to his immaculate wisdom and emotional maturity far beyond his years, but you hadn't because—

Well. Sometimes the world should work on little lies. If only to the ones you tell yourself. Ones like:

It's completely fine—really it is—if your friend of nearly eight years is moving on with his life. And it's totally, absolutely okay if your best friend meets some flighty barista in Amsterdam and won't stop talking about her for the meagre three weeks he's been back from his impromptu trip to the Netherlands, then to Mexico. It's fine. It's all fine.

Because maybe you are, too.

And maybe that's the reason you went out with David from Kent.

From Kent? He texted, only hours before your date. (Hours because he'd been busy with this thing for his job—his boss is corrupt and the world is, too, but at least Amsterdam Barista is doing fine). You can do so much better than that, birdy.

You wanted to say, what? Like someone from Amsterdam instead? but you're doing this new thing where you try not to sound as mad as you think you are. Zen, maybe. Internal peace and happiness. So, instead, you say:

He's nice. I like him.

Words that, of course, have come back to bite you.

He isn't nice. He wouldn't stop staring at the waitress, and talking over you, or just generally ignoring your existence. He left you downtown, stranded without a way home. You don't like him. You really don't even think you were that interested in him.

But it makes sense.

Kyle is moving on. Your friends are getting married.

And where does that leave you?

Well—

It leaves you stuck downtown with shoes that were intended to be used for aesthetics, the kind that means standing entirely still and immobile, and not walking the fifteen kilometres to your flat because you'd spent all your money on this super flattering outfit and these unfunctional shoes, and can't afford a cab or an Uber.

Sometimes, you pretend you're a functional adult—one who knows how to navigate everything with ease, and you live in the present, the real world, where time is fluid and unchangeable, and things make sense (maths and geometry and physics) unless they don't (black holes and the vastitude of space and fate)—but moments like these remind you that you don't. That you live, instead, somewhere in the parentheses of both.

The indigo sky, murky black and void of any stars, seems to grumble along with you as you turn toward the street, readying yourself for the long walk home. Except the groan sounds less commiserating and more ominous. A noise that seems to reverberate through the crowded street, and right into your bones.

Some have the wherewithal to find shelter. A smart move because almost a moment later, the heavens split, and a summer deluge drenches the street. It's unrelenting in its downpour, soaking everything in its path in a shrill roar.

Caught in the middle of St Peter's Square, there are not many places to duck under for sanctuary, but you find an alcove beside a store, and dart toward it. The non-functional boots are pretty to look at, but with each step, you feel the hard synthetic rubber grind against your heel. Blisters form, break. The burn makes you inhale sharply against the pain, hobbling now on tender feet.

The wall is slick with condensation, but you lean against it to keep your feet from taking the brunt of your weight.

It reminds you, quite suddenly, of that night in Cardiff with Kyle. When you'd drank three-dollar margaritas at some downtrodden bar with your friends and ate rather limp-looking fish tacos (a mistake, of course, and Kyle still can't look at corn tortillas the same way), and laughed until your belly hurt at something he'd said—the words lost to alcohol and faded with time—and then leaned over, promptly throwing up in a bush.

You still can't drink tequila without giggling (and gagging) at nothing, a phantom memory, and the thought presses against a tender spot in your chest in all the wrong ways.

Time is fluid. An unavoidable truism that you can't escape.

There are people you've known since you were a child whose faces you can barely remember. Ones you promised the world to, to always be together, who you hardly think of anymore.

Moving on. Moving forward.

You think, then, of Kyle. Of the distance that lingers between you both, widening each day. It's nothing you've done, nor he; it's just—

Life. Concurrent. Everpresent.

It hurts to lose a friend, you'd always think. A small moment of grief, of loss. But not like this. Never like this.

Stuck in a downpour in the middle of Manchester, you realise you miss him. Have been missing him.

Huddling under an awning, you fish your phone from your soaked pocket, and pull up the only person you want to be around right now, in this moment of vulnerability. Loneliness.

You send him a quick text, date was a bust. Stuck downtown. Are you busy?

Kyle's reply comes three breaths later. For you? Never. Send me your location.

You send him your pin.

Another message pops up: stay put. I'm on my way.

You met Kyle Garrick at university.

It's one of those things in life that just sometimes happens. A happy accident. An eventuality that makes the world feel a little less daunting. A lock and key sliding into place. Sunsets in pretty ochre.

Someone you knew and someone he knew (two people who are now best man and groom in the upcoming wedding) decided to invite all of their friends out for a night, and it was then, slightly tipsy on cheap ale when you realised the boy in the back—a head taller than everyone else and more befitting inside the glossy pages of a magazine—was different, somehow, from anyone else you'd ever met.

It started when some stupid kids decided to pick on another. A smaller boy with a blue cap.

Kyle was the only one who noticed. The only one who seemed to care.

It was his anger that drew you to him in the first place. Moth to a flame. It's quick—the sizzling flame of a lit match: suddenly burning the wick and nearly uncontrollable. But it's short. A flickering star, burning bright, burning hot, and then being tempered and swallowed down until it's smouldering. Still hot, still dangerous, but—

Managed.

It was a snap. He was laughing, jovial. Telling jokes, and having fun, but still maintaining that enviable enigmatic persona: reserved but kind. Funny, but mature. And then it crumpled in an instant, folded away into anger. Bright and blistering. He walked to them, eyes blazing, and didn't wait for any excuses when the kids noticed him, just quickly decimated their foundations, and crushed their feeble lies between his teeth.

"Bullyin'? That's a pretty foul thing to do, innit, mate?"

And that was that.

He handed the kid back his hat—the one the others knocked off into the gutter—and told him, clipped, that he was better than them.

Just keep your chin up, yeah? Fuckin' losers, that lot. Don't go messing about with them anymore. Fucking pricks. That's a nice hat, too. Where'd you get it? Really? Oh, that's mint—

It was that moment when, unprompted and unnoticed, he easily slipped away from the group to help some kid he didn't even know that you realised you were very keen to get to know him.

"Fancy a kebab, hero?" You asked, smirking up at him.

A grin broke across his face. Sharp, feral. "I could always go to a lamb kebab."

The rest, really, just came quite naturally. Your best friend. The person you go to for anything—even terrible dates that leave you stranded in the rain.

You just wish you knew when it all began to change, to fall apart.

Kyle meets you near St Peter's Square.

You spot him first from your hiding spot beneath the awning, catching sight of his form moving through the (now) empty streets, hands shoved in the pockets of his denim trousers, the bottoms tucked, sensibly, into his fawn-coloured boots.

Even with the hood of his windbreaker pulled low over his brow, you can pick him out of a crowd with an ease that is as warming as it is jarring.

You wave him over when he stops on the mouth of Mount Street, looking in toward the Starbucks on the corner.

He finds you just as easily. And oh, his expression makes your toes curl in your misshapen boots.

Anger pinches the corner of his mouth, and hangs off the furrow of his brow, the divot between his eyes.

"Unbelievable," he huffs when he reaches you in the middle of the street, and sucks his teeth when you open your mouth to protest.

"It is what it is," you offer, playing the peacekeeper. You fall into step with him, trying not to wince. "I'm over it."

"Yeah?" The shadows across his brow deepen. "Are you sure? 'Cause… I'll fuck him up for you."

Setting your friend on a man from Kent feels entirely too vindictive, despite how much of a rush you get at the thought of seeing the man cowed a little bit. You shake your head, playing the part of a reasonable adult.

"It's okay. I'm just—I'm just, over this, yeah? Can we—"

Kyle stops you with his hand against your shoulder. "You alright?"

"My feet hurt," your smile is strained. "Terrible shoes."

"Take 'em off."

"Are you crazy—?"

"I brought slides for you. Figured you'd wear something stupid."

"Okay, fair. But—ouch? We can't all be crazy good-looking Armani models. Some of us have to work for it."

Kyle snorts. "Just take your shoes off, yeah? Throw 'em in my bag."

You can't deny it feels blissful when you lean against the slick wall outside of a shop, toeing off your tight boots. Aching feet freed from their prison. The sigh you let out makes him glance up at you from the pavement, bent over the rucksack he brought.

There's disapproval in his gaze—maybe at your choice. Choices. The date he warned you about. The boots. The socks he spots are stained with blood on the knob of your foot.

He tuts. A soft admonishment that cuts through the silence of the empty square. But it's all he says. He swallows the rest and drops the shoes he grabbed on the pavement in front of you, slowly pushing them forward with the tip of his toe.

You try not to grin when you see them.

Crocs. The ugliest ones you could find in Schuh. You'd bullied him into getting a matching pair with you. Neon yellow adorned with little clips.

You slip them on as Kyle reaches down to grab your boots. He pauses with them in his hand, eying them with something that taints the air with his disdain.

"When did you buy these?"

"On Friday." When he was sleeping off his impromptu trip to Chicago. He brought you home deep-dish pizza, frozen, and promised that it tasted much better fresh. "For the date."

"Why?" Is all he asks.

You shrug. "They're cute…?"

His eyes stray to your shoulders. The wet fabric of your shirt. His chin lowers slightly, but his eyes stay fixed on your flesh, on the goosebumps that bubble to the surface, spreading over your exposed skin. Eyes flicker, catching a droplet of water you can feel running down from behind your ear, falling over the slope of your neck. It breaks against your collarbone. He watches it all.

There's tension in the air. Static. The pressure builds and reeks of ozone when it presses into you, knuckles digging into the hollow of your throat. It renders you unable to speak—locked in a paradigm where the world beyond the honeycomb of his eyes ceases to matter, to exist almost. Thick honey ensnares you. Molasses. It clots against reason, logic, and makes you feel weightless. Floating, unmoored, in this unfamiliar abyss that closes in around you.

Except—

It isn’t.

There’s something aberrant about it, anomalous, that you can’t ignore; but beneath it sits a preternatural sense of familiarity that bends the paradox into knowns. Into tangibles. Concretes.

This is the same tension that has been simmering—festering, almost—since before he joined the miliary. In Cardiff when he leaned against you in the taxi, boney shoulder digging into your arm, and said, ‘dunno what I'd do without you, y’know?

It was the hazy smear of neon from the shops perched on the street. An ethereal gold hue streamed in from the window, cutting across the tenebrous in an asymmetrical chiaroscuro. The light was soaked up by him. Warm honey, the perfect compliment to his eyes, to the soft pink of his lips.

How could you possibly describe the feeling that spumes in the pit of your stomach outside of undiluted comfort?

Home.

It feels like like in shades; muted. A soft undercurrent that lingers inside something else, something deeper—

Moments in the foyer when he was heading back home for the evening. When he’d linger in the doorway, shoulder balanced against the frame, arms folded over his chest, and warned you not to watch Taskmaster without him.

He’d know, he said.

When you asked how, he just said:

“Because I know you.”

It feels like that. Like that and something more. Everything, all of it, coalesces into this. Into this moment where you can’t stop staring into the flecks of mahogany and charred birchwood in his eyes, and he can’t seem to decide where to keep his, vacillating between the slope of your neck and matching your stare. A lurch, a flash of something in your chest when your gazes meet. The deep sfumato of a bare forest in the middle of winter—rich browns, raw topaz, honey and amber in a sea of white. A sleepy hinterland. Solemnent and peaceful. Dreamy. Hypnogogic.

The world always seems to shudder into a deep slumber whenever he’s around.

He dips closer, swaying into you. Gravity, maybe. Tidally locked satellites on the same rung. Something bubbles in your chest. Unwinds from its dormant perch between the gaps in your ribs, and climbs up your esophagus. Ready, you think, to be free—

In the distance, tyres squeal against the pavement.

—and all at once, the moment burst, breaks. Shatters into a million pieces, cosmic dust, and you watch them fall around you, blinking rapidly, as though you’ve just woken.

It feels like slowly coming down to earth when you quietly gather your things, words now stuck in your throat. In their prison.

Kyle tears his gaze away from your bare skin, clearing his throat.

"Hardly." He murmurs after a moment and slips his jacket off his shoulders before wrapping it around yours. It smells of rainwater, wet rubber. Beneath the polymer, you can smell Kyle—vetiver, cypress, jasmine; sweet and heady—and you bury your nose in the hood when he turns back to the empty street. “Well, uh—”

You can’t speak. Not yet.

He seems to understand.

"Yeah," he nods, and reaches out, tugging on the end of the drawstring. "Let's get out of here."

The rain lightens into a muted drizzle, soft droplets that fall, almost rhythmless, on the wet pavement. The town sleeps, the streets bare. Empty. The only sounds come from your slick footfalls, a horn in the distance.

It’s an easy silence that lapses between you—not at all unlike the lulls before, when things were easy and featherlight and endless; when you could talk to him about everything, anything, and all of the worries in your life were saved for something else. Never him. Never, ever him.

But it tugs at something in your chest. The same pressure blooms at the edges, lingering in the periphery. You think of the spell you fell under—quiet yearning—and shake your head, desperate now to break it.

It’s just as easy to slip into familiarity. To tease, and taunt. And so, you do.

"I'm surprised you haven't said I told you so by now. That's so impressive self-restraint."

His gaze slides over to you. "Well, you know, it's implied."

"Oh, is it, now?"

"Yeah, like when you messaged me and told me about it and I said—"

"Who even uses Tinder?"

"—that he's knobhead, and you're gonna get hurt."

You scoff. "He's from Kent, so."

"Even worse," he makes a face, derision contrasted by the jaundiced lamp spilling over the pavement. "A Tinder date with a guy from Kent? What's next? Moving to Bristol?"

"It's a nice area."

He rolls his eyes. "Sure. As nice as Essex, maybe."

"The two are not even comparable—"

"'Dunno why you're rushing into anything, anyway,” he angles his chin toward you. “If this is about Carver's wedding, I said I'd go with you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but…"

"But what?"

"That's sort of—like, you just have your own thing going on. I don't want to get in the way."

"I've always had my own thing going on. So have you. But that's never stopped us before, has it? What's changed."

"What about—" you swallow down something thick, bitter that wells in the back of your throat. "You know. Amsterdam. The Barista, or whatever."

His brow knots together. "And what about David from Kent?"

You sweep your hands out, motioning morosely toward your Crocs, your damp outfit. "This is what happened with David from Kent. Not exactly the fairytale meet cute you have with Amsterdam—" he makes a noise, like he means to interrupt. You cut him off. Bury it. "And besides, you should take her. I'll just—"

"I want to go with you."

"Why?"

Kyle falls to a stop near the Kebab shop you usually go to whenever he comes back from his missions, when he's craving good, hearty food that will rot his insides and clog his arteries. A small comfort from before, when everything he has now was just a dream, and you were struggling students in university who could barely afford a meal each and would split a lamb dinner over ale and terrible movies from the noughties back at your flat.

The suddenness of it all makes you blink beside him, slowly angling your chin up at him. A questioning noise wells in the back of your throat, but when you finally turn your gaze to him, it does out. A snuffed flame.

He brings his hand up, finger scratching at the soft patch of skin on the bridge of his nose where it starts to arch up. The look on his face, hidden, slightly, by the night blanketing overhead, but just illuminated enough by smears of neon and flushed street lamps for you to see it clove into something slightly flustered, hesitant. Sheepish, almost, like he hadn't meant to say what he did, and now doesn't know how to proceed forward. Cards tucked tight to his chest. Does he play his hand or fold?

You blink. Then blink again. Struggling, almost, to take in the suddenness of his flustered state.

Because the thing is:

Kyle doesn't get embarrassed or sheepish.

A running gag in your mutual friend group is that Kyle is twenty-eight going on sixty-five. An old man crammed inside the body of a young adult. He runs hot—passionate about his beliefs, quick to temper when he thinks an injustice is being doled out; a disciple of loose stoicism, but of a new age variety that is half parts stereotypical stoner chillness and ripe maturity—but he rarely is ever caught unawares enough to become embarrassed by something. He just has a perfect gauge of himself and those around him, able to quickly make friends with anybody he meets, and self-aware enough to know when he's in the wrong, when he needs to dial it back.

Being his friend for so long, you know the nuance of these expressions. His mien is ingrained in your head: known and catalogued. Nothing about Kyle is a mystery to you except the things you're barred from knowing (his second life away from home, you often joke: wholly confidential, entirety draped in secrecy).

But the look on his face is entirely alien to you. An expression you hadn't thought him capable of making.

It's jarring. It bludgeons into you with a ferocity that takes your breath away.

You know the man standing beside you, but this, everything else, is so unearthly. So foreign.

"Kyle," you hedge, taking a small step closer to him. You're not sure why. Maybe to reacquaint yourself with the man standing before you. Maybe to find something of familiarity within him to comfort the sudden crescendo of your pounding heart because even just the heady scent of his cologne—vetiver, amber—quells the sudden bloom of anxiety in the pit of your stomach. "Are you—?"

"No," he mumbles, then huffs out a soft laugh. It sounds mean, in a self-deprecating way, and your heart lurches for him. "Yeah, no. I'm alright. I just—shit, you know? 'Course I'd wanna go with you. Should be kinda obvious, no?"

Sure, you want to say. Sure, no, totally. Very obvious. And maybe had he not stopped, not made this peculiar expression on his face—like he isn't sure what to do when he always knows what he wants, what he's meant to do—you might have said them. Might let them tumble from your lips, equally self-deprecating and a touch forlorn despite never really knowing why, but that would be a lie, now.

Because you do.

The look on his face is upsetting—not because Kyle never makes that expression, or because he's never uncertain about anything, ever, but because you don't know it. It's not something you've ever seen before. And it hurts.

It's stupid. This whole thing. It shouldn't make you feel some sense of loss when he does something you don't expect. He always does. It's his brand, now—jettisoning across the world to catch bad guys and slap the trite American sense of justice and liberty for all across the faces of anyone who tries to oppose it—and you're very much acclimated to this side of him, the one he hides away from you, giving nothing at all about where he's going, what he's doing, what he's done, until he's back in England, safe and sound, and texting you at six in the morning for an English spread because he missed home. And maybe, maybe he missed you, too.

Those quiet moments are tucked into a cosm where it's only you and him, and greasy food, and reruns of Golden Girls together with your feet in his lap as you sit on the chaise and pick favourites (his is, of course, Rose) until the sun goes down, and he heads home because he has a debriefing in the morning in Hereford, and you have work. It's bereft of unease, of tension. Time slips through your fingers fluidly, and you hardly notice it's been hours since he first arrived. Comfortable, wholly, in his presence and in your skin.

Soulmates, everyone used to joke. You just get each other. Near finish each other's sentences.

Except for lately, where there has been this undeniable tension simmering between the two of you—a sense of fragility that you can't comprehend.

Growing apart, you thought. And then: guess it's time to do the same.

It made sense to make the first move. To download Tinder—much to his chagrin—and start looking for your—

Your Barista from Amsterdam.

And oh.

Oh.

Maybe it's the way the street light frames the angles and plains of his face, or the shadows that run deep lines of tenebrous across the valleys in his eyes, the sharp slope of his lips, the soft pout. The inscrutable expression that rents a jagged divot between his brow, and an unsure twist of his mouth. Maybe it's everything. Nothing.

But the only thing you know right now is that you know him. Have known him. Deeply. Intimately. In a way that goes beyond the boundaries of bodies, of flesh and blood. Bones and marrow. You know his soul. His essence. The foundations of who he is cobbled together in a lonely kebab shop over cheap ale, commiserating on an endless stream of papers and assignments; the eventuality of ever after when you hand in the final one. Over beans and toast in the afternoon, a whole day spent lounging in your flat watching reruns of Golden Girls, and petty arguments over Taskmaster that always seem to go a little bit too far, and never far enough. Fights that end two days later when he shows up with Greggs and a complete box set of that show you said you wanted to watch but never had the time for. Bargain shopping in Tottenham on an early Saturday morning because there's this chair, you see, one that you saw on their Instagram page and you simply must have it.

Soft moments in between, brackets where life doesn't seem to wrap its cold hands around your throat. Time spent in each other's company just for the sake of it.

Climbing onto your roof—a thatched mess of moss and straw and broken asphalt shingles that will one day give under your weight—and watching the stars, always searching for one that rockets across the sky while he murmurs beside you, quiet in this stillness that falls like snow in the dead of night around you. A hushed whisper as he relays the places he's been—all stars, he rasps, hand brushing wide strokes across the raspberry sky, dusted with light pollution: I'll take you there one day to see. Best fucking beer I'd ever had, too, just don't tell my cousin because he thinks the shitty lager he makes for his bar is good—and you try to picture it amongst the grey clouds. A life on the opposite side of the world. Just the two of you. Always.

And that's what it's always been, hasn't it? Just you. Just him.

It's sometime past midnight on a street corner in Manchester. Your feet hurt from walking all night, and your clothes are damp from the rain that caught you off-guard. A summer downpour. It clings to your skin in a way that's both freeing and wholly uncomfortable, but you're not thinking about that. You're not thinking about anything at all, not now. Not really. There's a silence in your head as the world falls into pieces, breaking like the jaundiced light that cuts crevasses and canyons in the tenebrous that colours sharp valleys of his face. He turns, then, a gentle list of his head as he takes you in, breathes your silence and questions the wideness of your eyes, the soft parting of your lips. The movement makes the light spill over the arch of his nose, the slope of his brow. The dawning of a new day. A new world. The untouchable of the moon where no light shines now burning hot under the sun.

(And maybe you've been a little bit in love with him the whole time.)

So, you say it. You whisper all the words that bubble up, impatiently waiting between your teeth, effervescent and burning white-hot as they throw themselves over bone and flesh to be free.

Confessing goes like this:

Molten agony in your guts as the secrets you barely understand yourself dissolve into the atmosphere, spoken aloud and born on cobblestone and petrichor. Wide-eyed shock, uncertainty, as a new quiet falls over your shoulders, louder than anything you'd ever heard. Guncotton in your nose. A million detonations in your ears.

You've never much liked the silence. You break it, then, with your bare hands.

"...and that's basically it."

It isn't much. It isn't poetry. You're not even sure the words were real. A figment of your imagination, broken free because of baristas in Amsterdam and losers from Kent, abysmal dates and the unending fear of being wholly alone in a world you're not prepared for, all without the person who makes you feel a little bit better about the nothingness that permeates around you.

And sure. Sure. You don't need him. If Kyle decided never to speak to you again, you'd cry and you'd hurt, but you wouldn't be less of a person because of his absence. He doesn't complete you in the same way you've read about in thick books with strong-willed protagonists and an abundance of petty misunderstandings, but he compliments you. Elevates the good and stifles the bad. You want to experience things with him—not because there's some grand force at play, red strings knotted around your fingers that lead you back to him—but because you like his company. His thoughts. His mind. His presence. His essence fills you with joy in the same strokes it makes you want to pull your hair out sometimes. Good and bad. You want it all.

You want it. Want him.

And he—

He's taking you home a little past midnight where you'll make yourself beans and toast and maybe try and sleep, or turn on the television to watch four women you're intricately connected to eat cheesecake and solve each other's problems. He could be at his own flat right now, playing that video game he said he wanted to try when he got back, or watching that movie he was supposed to with his flatmates, his friends. He could be talking to some barista in Amsterdam.

But he isn't.

He's here with you. Still. Still.

"I just—," you say, or try to.

But the rest is a muffled gasp against soft lips when he presses his against yours, stealing the words out of your mouth.

You can feel your heart beating through your lips. Taste him on your tongue when he draws you closer, hands reaching, grasping. Pulling you into him, into his body. You fit against him, tucked safe between the parentheses of his arms. He tastes of cardamom and cornflower. Lavender notes between his molars. Hints of milk on his tongue. You drink him down and know, then, that this is what they mean they talk about love being a feast because you chase this taste for the rest of your life and never be satiated.

He loops his arm around the small of your back, dragging you closer still. As if any atom between your bodies is an affront. There’s no hesitation in the action, in the way he burrows into your skin. No trepidation.

And maybe it would be silly for there to be any. You know him—every iota, every inch; secrets whispered at midnight in a shallow breath and dreams uttered at noon. To be known, to know, is a powerful thing. You feel it ghost across your flesh, featherlight, and reach for it with your bare hands. Seeking, searching. You don’t stop until the tips of your fingers meet his warm skin, curling around him. Anchoring yourself to him. Stuck, now, in permanence.

You find spots that were untouched before. Behind his ears, the dip of his brow, the curve of his nose, and the slope of his jaw. Cupping it in the palm of your hand, a plinth for him to rest his chin.

Your canvassing makes him groan, makes him tilt down into you as he begins his own exploration, chasing you in a mad pursuit. Sliding over your valleys, your plains. Running over the rugged mountains and the steep cliffs. He scours your topography with eager, nimble fingers. It’s slow, languid. There’s no rush with this, a consensus you both seem to come to rather quickly when he pries open your mouth and tangles his tongue with yours. It’s sweet, soft. His hands mimic his chase, sliding along your body as if he means to commit the entirety of you to memory, searing it in his brain.

It’s only when he comes to a crossroads at your navel, pushed flush against his body, does he stop. You moan in despair at it, wanting more and more, not ready to give up this taste that curls over your tongue—saccharine sweet, salty—and Kyle echoes the noise with a groan, a quiet plea for air that both of you desperately need but can’t quite make yourself take.

“Fuck—” he groans again, breath stuttering out in sharp, deep gasps. “Can’t bloody tell you how long I wanted to do this for, fuck—”

His words seem to peel back the dreamy gossamer of a slowly burning sensuality. It ignites in a blaze, not at all unlike the swiftness of his anger. The sharp, sudden strike of a match. The crackle and hiss of flames renting the air.

The blaze starts at the point where your upper lip touches his, and almost immediately, it consumes you.

It's frenzied when he kisses you again—feral and wild: all teeth and tongue and nips against your bottom lip but the moment you sink into the fervour, Kyle changes it. Slows down. Chaste pecks to your sore lips amid a sensual onslaught. A languid roll of his tongue, soothing the burn his teeth left behind.

The way he kisses you feels like a paradox.

It's organised chaos. Refined madness. A cluttered mess of finesse and deliberate suckles; an artist's masterstroke.

You can't keep up. His rhythm is fierce and uncatchable.

Each step seems to stutter. An avartan you can’t keep pace with. Elongated taals, dips. A crescendo of harmony that is matchless, unreproducible. You struggle along with his swift current, his unerring tide that sweeps you away; unmoored, adrift. The tentative exploration ends. He knows you, now. All of you. And this is his summit. His scramble to the top. It’s biting passion; roaring flames.

You cling to him, holding tight to the liferaft he offers in a slow huff, a gust of mirth across your lips and into your lungs, slowing down to accommodate you. Malleable, now, he lets you lead, lets you take over, and move seamlessly with him. In tandem, parallel. Equilibrium brings you to heel, and you sigh into his mouth—a deep exhale of everything that has been building and building, tipping the scales around you until it was unbalanced and precarious. Teetering on the edge a precipice unknown.

His hand roams across your known geography—hills and streams, rivers and canyons—until he reaches your hand still bracketed around his cheeks, slowly peeling it away from his flesh to slide his fingers between yours, holding tight, and—

Kissing is immaculate. Bending at an altar, and making an offering to something bigger than yourself. It’s the spark of lightning flashing overhead, static in the air. Magnets drawing closer and closer until they snap together in the middle.

But holding his hand?

It feels like coming home.

The world tipping back into place. Amber warmth in your veins; the softness of a jasmine petal. You suck in a deep breath at the shock of it all.

You think of missing puzzles and loose sea ice drifting alone in the vastitude of the ocean. You think of a life where he isn’t in it and find yourself shuddering at the wrongness that emanates from it.

You want him. Want him—

It’s Kyle who pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours. You blink slowly, eyes catching dark amber, honeycomb. It draws a smile from you, full and deep. Giddy on the taste of him, of this.

The only thought in your head is finally, finally.

You see his lips curl in response, eyes lidded and heavy. Blooming with want, affection. Adoration.

"What, ah—," he laughs a little, then, breathless and happy, and the noise anchors itself to your breastbone, pressing into the hollow of your ribs. A place you'll keep it forever. "What now?"

He hands you the starless sky, and places it into the cup of your palm. Breathes laughter in the air, paints the moon with his joy. You think about the places he wants to take you, and the ones he swears you'll never go. You think about aeons from now when the world is gone and the stars all die out, when there's just the hazy lavender of endless abyss you can't make sense of. You think of him, and you think of you, and you wonder when it started to just make sense for there to always be two.

Maybe that night in Cardiff when he held your shoes and gave you his coat. When he draped his arm around your shoulders, laughing at something stupid you'd said. A year before he joined this task force he makes cheeky remarks about but never goes too deeply into detail. When it was just endless summers spent working and drinking and eating good food.

He'd asked the same thing, then, half slumped over in the taxi, and three sheets to the wind. It made his eyes darken, endless pits. Black holes. The expanse of the sky is framed by brown lashes, and drooping lids.

And you'd said—

"Beans and toast?" It feels right. It feels good. "We can—"

He huffed, too, just like he does now, and squeezes your hand once, tugging you along.

"We're not watching Golden Girls."

You watch Golden Girls. Kyle wraps his arm around your neck, keeps you tucked in close to his side. He steals kisses from you when Sophia says something that makes you laugh until you're breathless and trembling.

When David from Kent texts you, he grins wide, and whispers in your ear, think I've always been a little bit in love with you, you know?

Yeah, you say, and kiss back until the taste of him is etched into the space between your teeth. Since Cardiff. For you?

"Since Uni for sure." He smiles again, sheepish and a touch flustered. It glitters on his brow and nips the apples of his cheeks. "You stole my heart when you devoured four lamb kebabs and then ate my tabbouleh. Said to myself, yeah, that's the one for me, innit?"

"On second thought, what's that Barista's number? Might try my luck instead."

"Nah, you're smitten," he presses his lips into the hollow of your throat, nips his teeth against your pulse point. "And you're all mine. No take backs."

"Ah, for fuck's sake—"

Ahhhhhhhh. Sappy romcoms are my kryptonite and it shows.

COD MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #cod gaz x reader #cod mw2 fanfic #ehhhhhh #these are my sloppiest tags #i didn't feel like making a gif so i threw this together real quick #will fix in the am #when my eyes aren't on fire

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galactic-magick · 11 months

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hey! can you please write something with peter quill when the guardians needs informations from a guy and his girlfriend starts flirting with him. at the end she got what she wanted but also a jealous/angry boyfriend

Starlord Charm: Peter Quill x Reader

Summary: Peter always flirts with people in front of you on missions, so you decide it’s your turn.

Words: 0.8k+

Warnings: some language

You’ve lost count of how many missions you’ve had to witness your boyfriend’s “Starlord Charm” on people other than yourself. Flirting with people is one of his favorite tactics for getting information, and it works maybe about half the time (although he likes to insist that it works more than that). Usually you don’t mind at all, especially because you know that under the act he puts on he only has eyes for you, but lately it’s been getting particularly annoying.

He’s gotten a lot more intense and elaborate with his flirting, and it usually happens after you’ve gotten into an argument. It’s his way of messing with you and getting back at you. Sure, you could be the bigger, more mature person and just talk to him about how it makes you feel, but you’d rather have fun with it.

The next time you’re on a mission with the Guardians, you’re tracking down some dangerous weapons and trying to figure out who’s manufacturing and selling them. You really don’t have a lot to go on so far, so currently you’re looking through the archives in the largest library in the galaxy. You’ve all been at it for hours, and you haven’t found so much as a single clue or lead. Whoever it is you’re looking for, they basically don’t exist.

You stay long after dark, and eventually the librarians have to kick you out. You’re all feeling defeated and exasperated, trudging back to the ship in the city lights.

That is, until a certain symbol catches your eye.

You see the same symbol you saw on one of the weapons on the window of a store down the street, and the last employee seems to me walking out right now.

“Come with me, guys,” you say softly, running towards the man.

He watches you as you approach him, understandably on guard.

“Hey!” you wave, trying to be friendly and not scare him away. “Could you help us with something?”

“I guess so?” his eyes dart around the whole group. “I was about to go home actually-”

“Great, thank you,” you beam at him, completely disregarding the last part of what he said. “That symbol on the window, what does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I just work the closing shift, I don’t really ask questions,”

You sigh, a bit annoyed that you ran into yet another dead end. But maybe, just maybe, he just needs a little persuading.

This is your time to have a little fun.

You look Peter dead straight in the eyes, and then back at the man.

“Hey,” you get the worker’s attention again. “I’m sure you’re tired, handsome, but I could really use the information,”

Both his and Peter’s eyebrows raise at your words.

“Well, I mean, I think my boss has a deal with some company that uses that symbol,” he says. “That’s all I know, though,”

“Oh, you’re the best,” you laugh, briefly touching his arm. “Do you think we could take a look around inside to find out more?”

“I really shouldn’t let you do that-”

“Don’t you want to help us, honey? It’s important,”

“I-” his face changes color from your deep, doe-eyed stare. “I can’t let you in after hours because I’d get in huge trouble, but I can give you my boss’s information. That way you can contact the people who know about it directly,”

He transfers the data to your device instantaneously, as well as his own contact information.

“Oh, thank you!” you peck his cheek and wink at him as he walks away, “Have a good night!”

Peter’s face is still scrunched up long after you part ways with the man, and he finally breaks his silence once you all reach the ship.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I was just getting information, Peter. And I got it, didn’t I?”

“Not like that, you’re not!”

“Oh, so when you flirt with people in front of me it’s fine, but when I do it it’s a problem? That was nothing compared to what you do!”

“My charm is just part of who I am, okay? What do you want me to do, turn it off?”

“Only if you’re going to throw a fit about me turning mine on!”

He sits down with a thump, still glaring at you.

“Does it-” his face softens a bit. “Does it really bother you that much when I flirt with people on missions?”

“A little bit, yeah,” you admit. “Especially because it seems like you do it to make me mad. That’s why I wanted to make you mad back,”

“Well, it worked,” he chuckles. “Although I’m not as cute as you when I’m mad,”

“Wow,” you punch him playfully.

“C’mere,” he pulls you closer, and you sit on his lap. “If it really bothers you, I’ll tone it down, I promise. I’ll find some other way to get back at you when I’m mad at you,”

“Oh really, you’d do that for me?” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes at his antics.

“I’m serious. I love you too much to let something like this cause problems,” he kisses the side of your head. “Besides, you’re my favorite person to flirt with,”

You smirk, succumbing to his enticements, “I better be.”

Read this to make a Guardians request!

#peter quill x reader #starlord x reader #guardians of the galaxy x reader #peter quill #starlord #guardians of the galaxy #gotg x reader #guardians of the galaxy vol 3 #gotg 3

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wilbursoot-updates · 1 year

Text

Lovejoy is in this article!

Wake Up! Lovejoy are already a phenomenon

Squashed into a tour bus somewhere in Berlin are the biggest band that – unless you’re as chronically online as us, Dear Reader – you’ve maybe never heard of. With sold-out tours across the UK, Europe and North America, millions of monthly Spotify listeners and a spot in the UK Top 40 with their latest single ‘Call Me What You Like’, Lovejoy could be mistaken for veterans.

Far from it. Their first proper bit of press is, well, this very cover interview. They’re gearing up to release only their third (or maybe fourth, depending how you count their just dropped ‘From Studio 4’ collection, released under the name Anvil Cat) EP, ‘Wake Up & It’s Over’, and those sold-out tours? The first shows they’ve ever played. It’s rare this amount of hype surrounds a guitar band these days, so who the fuck are Lovejoy?

Formed during the early 2021 UK lockdown, Lovejoy consists of Will Gold as the frontman, Joe Goldsmith on lead guitar, Ash Kabosu on bass, and Mark Boardman on drums. Seemingly brought together by sheer luck, their epic ascent is the result of a lifetime of individual hard work and some serious fan devotion over the past couple of years.

It’s taken a while to pin the band down, and we catch them just after their first full UK tour as they embark on the European leg. It’s all been a bit of a whirlwind.

“I think it was our 32nd show yesterday, which is just nuts,” says Ash, who introduces himself as the one who doesn’t talk and proceeds to lead the interview. “Literally every show we’ve played, we’ve been like, ‘That was the best one!’ Then the next one, ‘Oh, that was the best one!’”

“I’ve especially been enjoying acclimating myself to not knowing where I’m going to be falling asleep every night,” says Will, “which is a very hard thing to get around. But it’s a lot of fun. I’m really enjoying it. And I love seeing everyone’s faces because we’ve been somewhat of a lockdown band. To now be able to put faces to the numbers is great; it’s lovely to see and speak to them.”

Describing their very first live shows at the end of 2022 as “teething”, Lovejoy admit they’re still getting to grips with it all. Although the size of their fanbase means they could’ve easily sold out bigger venues than the humble Electric Brixton they headed up on this tour, they didn’t want to skip steps for a good reason.

“Rock music has always been what me and Joe were the most interested in” -Will Gold

“We didn’t want to be bad,” says Ash, frankly. “It’s a completely different ballpark to just, you know, playing guitar in your bedroom, and there are so many moving parts and so many things you don’t think about that you need to learn and understand. We didn’t want to deliver a show to the fans that wasn’t good enough, so we’ve been deliberately ramping it up step by step and going through the process as naturally as possible.”

“It’s so much more personable and fun to make mistakes in front of a crowd of a couple hundred people who are along with you for the ride than when you start to get into the larger crowds,” adds Will. “Making a mistake, at least for me, really gets to me, but if I’m in a room with less people, and they’re there for the story, I feel more ready to make mistakes.”

Will and Joe cut their teeth playing with a folk punk band a few years prior to Lovejoy forming. After what Will describes as a “very dramatic first gig”, they went their separate ways, but his lust for live never went away. Finding one another at the beginning of the pandemic, Joe came to visit Will before the lockdowns kicked in and decided to sleep on the sofa rather than risking taking public transport back and forth to London.

“We wrote our entire first EP in my basement and very quickly decided we’re going to need a drummer and a bassist because all the stuff we were writing was band stuff,” Will explains. “It wasn’t our normal folk stuff that we were used to – and rock music has always been what me and Joe were the most interested in; even when we were in that folk band, we used to implore the lead singer if we could write some indie music please, and he would always be like, nah, not really into Arctic Monkeys actually.”

So they set out to find both a bassist and a drummer. Fate did its thing, and upon walking into a Smashburger in Brighton, Will met Ash, bass guitar in tow, and asked him if he’d like to be in a band.

“Ash is not one to say no to many exciting adventures,” says Will, “so he said yeah, and I gave him my address. Joe was very sceptical at first when I said I found a bassist in a burger shop.”

“I think for me personally,” adds Ash, “I’m living in Brighton – which is kind of a young, creative place – you often have conversations in pubs and places where people are like, we should do this, we should do that, and I genuinely thought that this was just another one of those conversations. Like, ‘Hey, I’m in a band, do you want to play?’ I never thought in my wildest dreams anything would even come of it. I didn’t even think we’d practice, let alone be playing shows in front of thousands of people.”

As for Mark, he was booked for the day via the freelancer hiring website Fiverr. When they couldn’t pay him the fee he was owed, they instead offered him a spot in the band.

“I said, look, you’re sick at this, do you want to just join the band?” Will explains. “Mark thought about it for a good five seconds and then said yes.”

“I was really determined, playing acoustic guitar and learning stuff from YouTube and Arctic Monkeys songbooks” -Joe Goldsmith

Echoing Ash’s sentiments, Mark recalls, “I thought it would be another band that I’d join that wouldn’t even release on Spotify. Now we’ve sold out tours in the UK, Europe, America….”

Life before Lovejoy was very different for most of the boys. Mark was at university studying editing, hoping to work in visual effects, letting drumming take the back seat. “It would have been a grind for like 40 years to get a good paying job, and Will came along and saved me. So I’m very grateful for that,” he says.

Ash was working in broadcasting as a producer for TV, a job he’d gotten into after studying film production at uni, and had taught himself animation as another means of income. “Unlike Mark, I actually enjoyed it,” he adds.

As for Joe, he was working as a tree surgeon, which is a flashier-sounding name than what the job actually entailed. “I was literally just cleaning up branches on the floor,” he says. “I wasn’t even allowed to go up the trees.”

Will isn’t such a stranger to the spotlight, as he edited for the YouTube channel SootHouse in the late 2010s, later creating his own channel as Wilbur Soot and amassing a sizeable following on the streaming platform Twitch (although the other boys say they had no idea about his following when they joined the band, Ash noting, “I just thought he was quite a tall, handsome man, we’re just here because we fancy Will”).

With the band assembled, they started recording together in Will’s bedroom. In early 2021, the UK was still firmly in lockdown, so with all studios closed, it was their only choice. When they finally made it to a studio, the group had two days to record five songs, the ones that would make up their first EP, 2021’s ‘Are You Alright?’.

“We didn’t get enough done,” says Will, “which is why the first EP actually has scratch vocals. We just used my draft vocals that are then doubled up and thickened out. And also because it would have been far too expensive to just keep going back.”

“Which is why, little easter egg,” adds Ash, “some of the lyrics are wrong. We don’t sing those anymore, so the fans get very confused when we perform some of the earlier songs.”

The whole journey has been a learning curve for all four members. With none of them coming from a proper musical background, there was no one to guide them in the process. “We kind of had to jump headfirst in and see what we can do off the back of it,” says Will.

That isn’t to say they haven’t put the work in, though. With each of the boys picking up their instruments in their childhood or teenage years, it feels like they’ve been setting up their own individual dominoes, hitting the ground running when they were knocked down in perfect formation.

“There’s a photo of me when I was a baby,” Mark begins, explaining where he got his start in music. “I couldn’t even walk, and I’m on my auntie’s lap, who originally taught me drums. I’ve been wanting to play since I could speak, basically, but we could never afford a kit. And then I got to about eight years old, my parents finally got me an electric drum kit, and my auntie started teaching me. I caught up with her quickly, which was crazy. I always wanted to be in a band, but I was thinking more realistically, it’s the same odds as becoming a famous football player or something like that. Then along came these boys, and it all changed.”

“I was really determined from when I was about 13, 14?” Joe recalls, “Playing acoustic guitar and just learning stuff from YouTube and Arctic Monkeys songbooks, working out tabs and things like that. I was pretty dead set on at least giving it a shot to try.”

Ash’s start was similar, learning to play guitar with his dad. “When I was very young, my dad found an old Spanish guitar in the attic of our family home that wasn’t ours,” he tells us. “I’ve kind of always played guitar, and I’ve always been interested in music; my dad is in a band as well, bless him, doing dad rock. It’s always been a part of me, but I never ever thought I’d do anything with it.”

“Not for me,” Will jumps in. “The minute I first started learning guitar, I was like, this is what I want. When I was a teenager, I used to follow around bands and go to all their shows, and I knew from that moment I want this as my creative outlet. This is where I want to put my creative energy. I literally remember I shut myself in my room and practised guitar for like ten hours a day in the beginning. I missed two summers doing that. To finally be in this position I’m in now, thanks to all the wonderful support we’ve gotten from people, a lot of them have come across from the YouTube space, is just absolutely humbling. I’m trying to give it back in any way I can.”

“I like to make rumours amongst the fan base; we’ve made up a bunch of nonsense” -Ash Kabosu

It’s fair to say Lovejoy have been pulled substantially further up the ladder by a deeply devoted fan base, but that’s part of what makes their trajectory so exciting. There hasn’t been a new guitar band that’s had venues bursting at the seams like this for a long time. Just two self-released (on their own label Anvil Cat via AWAL) EPs, debut ‘Are You Alright?’ and follow-up ‘Pebble Brain’ garnered enough love to have fans queuing around the block for hours on end when the live shows finally came. It’s reminiscent of what 5SOS were seeing at the start of their career ten years ago, or that other numbers band.

And the devotion goes both ways, too; Lovejoy play games with the fans, leaving puzzles on social media for the fans to solve, firing confetti with QR codes printed on every other piece out at their London headline show. Their involvement hasn’t gone unnoticed.

“Oh, man, I love them,” Ash gushes. “One of the best feelings for me is when we create something, even if it’s something as simple as a little photo shoot, the response is incredible. And to inspire other people to create through our creativity is just so rewarding. My favourite part of it is seeing the writing, the poetry, the paintings, the drawings, like all the art that comes back to us is incredible.”

Joe adds, “Every single person that I’ve met after a show or before a show, they’re all so respectful and all so lovely. And they’re just so generous.”

Ash continues, “They make such an effort and go out of their way to listen to the support bands’ music and show up for them; they show up on time and fill the place out for everyone. And then they go crazy jumping around and singing to everyone’s music, and that’s just so fucking cool.”

With new EP ‘Wake Up & It’s Over’ on the horizon, it’ll be their first proper release since 2021. A break away from recording to do the touring part of being a new band has led to Lovejoy’s longest writing phase yet and has played a part in shaping the sound of their new material. This time around, being able to take more time to record and more studio options, they’ve fined tuned their sound and brought it closer to their personal ideal.

Aiming for something a little heavier this time, the boys wanted to pull in their individual influences more drastically. For Will, that’s shouty British lyrics and overdriven guitars (he calls Arctic Monkeys the most famous example), with Ash also growing up on the late 2000s indie of Foals and Bombay Bicycle Club. Mark, on the other hand, was introduced to bands like Bring Me The Horizon and Asking Alexandria by his sister at a young age, pushing him into heavier territory when it came to discovering his own tastes and allowing the band to take on the slogan of ‘the only indie band with a double kick drum’. (Joe simply adds, “In the words of Brandon Flowers, it’s indie rock and roll for me.”)

Opening track ‘Portrait of a Blank Slate’ pulls in those influences most brazenly, employing the mathy Foals-y lead guitar, ‘Favourite Worst Nightmare’ era Arctic Monkeys fiddly bass, and wordy vocals a la The Wombats. “I can’t wait to play that for thousands of people,” says Joe.

They’ve been road-testing some of the other tracks too, the poppier (see: jumpier) ‘Consequences’ and ‘Warsaw’, as well as the single ‘Call Me What You Like’, but the rest have been kept a secret, one track particularly well.

Initially beginning the recording of this EP late last year, the boys weren’t 100% satisfied with the tracks. Having already played some of the tracks live, fans developed a particular affinity for one called ‘It’s Golden Hour Somewhere’, and up until the EP drops, have been under the impression it isn’t going to be released.

“I like to make rumours amongst the fan base,” says Ash, “I sort of said yeah, it’s scrapped, we just don’t like it, it’s not up to scratch, it doesn’t fit the nature of the EP, blah, blah, blah. We’ve just made up a bunch of nonsense. And they’ve bought into it. And as I expected, they’re also campaigning to bring it back. We’ve seen signs at shows saying ‘PLAY GOLDEN HOUR’. It’s just a bit of fun, and I think the relief and the excitement they’ll feel on the day that it comes out to just see it in the tracklisting will be worth it. I think for the amount of time that the fans have been waiting, we want it to be as special as possible.”

Even with ‘Call Me What You Like’ landing at No.32 on the UK Top 40 – an enormous feat and a rarity for a new band these days – it’s still what the fans think that means the most to Lovejoy.

“It was very validating to see it go that far,” says Will. “I think that was our longest-ever lyric writing time; we had the tune down for about ten months before I even penned the lyrics that ended up going in the final release. To see that time pay off is amazing, but we had no idea it would get that reception. It’s more important that our fans really love what we’re putting out. We’re aiming to create music that will really connect with our fan base, and you know, we’ll give them back what they’ve given us.”

With formative years that any new band would dream of, a knockout first tour and an audience hungry for more, Lovejoy are keen to maintain the hype. Currently using soundcheck time to write new material, every spare hour is used wisely while they’re on the road, Ash hinting they’ve already got new songs saved up for when they return home. This summer, they’ll be hitting the festival circuit, playing Reading and Leeds for the first time and undoubtedly not the last. The path may not be fully paved yet, but it’s definitely leading somewhere exciting.

Will says, “We’ve felt that wave of energy from the audience singing our words back at us, and that’s really influenced my lyrical style and our music instrumentally, which took a lot longer. 2022 was a sort of foundational year; I feel like this is the launch in 2023 into this next era of Lovejoy.”

#thanks for spending actual money on this one mia lmao #lovejoy #wilbur soot #ash kabosu #mark boardman #joe goldsmith #articles #dork magazine

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hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha · 15 days

Note

hantengu (+plus all of his clones) reaction to their wife giving them their first ever kiss on the lips. This would probably take place like at the beginning of their marriage. Also if you don’t feel comfortable with making wife reader kiss Zohakuten on the lips, you could do like his nose or the area above his lips. Thank you! :))

𝓐 𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓖𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓴.

Hantengu x Fem!Reader Kissing HCs

Synopsis: The Upper Rank 4's now wife couldn't resist kissing her sweet husband just to see his reaction, or in her case, her sweet husbands.

Warnings: A bit of NSFW elements on Sekido's, Karaku's and Urogi's parts, otherwise it's just a whole lot of sweetness \(>v<)/

Divider credits:

Saradika's roses, golden railing and that weird green thing

Purples sparkles and paint roll splodge thing

Water like waves

Note: OMG THIS IS SUCH A CUTE IDEA!!! I LOVE IT!!!! ALL OF YOU HAVE THE BEST IDEAS!! (I wrote this really quickly cuz the smut is taking WAY too long for even me so have at it in the meantime, anyways, enjoy the food ^3^) + please forgive me if this isn't too great, this is my first time doing HCs. I couldn't really picture a full on one-shot with this so I turned them to HCs, it's also a great way for me to try it out for the first time (° 3 °) + did not proofread (I never do)

The mere fact that the Upper Moon Four out of all the six (eight) upper moons actually got married, much less got into a relationship and somehow managed to keep it is a shock in itself for not only the other moons but for Muzan himself. If anything, he thought it'd all end in just a few days, but no, his fourth strongest demon is married now. Oh well, he could care less for any of his employees, as long as he did as they were told, they were free to do as they wish.

As for the newlyweds, they were perfect and happy. The wife's family was very happy for the pair, though, they had been under the impression that it was just one man and not a demon that could split into younger versions of himself. That would've been quite the scandal. Now, the day – or in this case, night – after the wedding, they are all simply relaxing in their shared home after having returned from a mission.

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮

— The first thing this little demon does is rush to his wife, sobbing and bawling his eyes out about the fact that demon slayers tried to kill him, claiming that he "can do no wrong" or that he's being "wrongly accused of crimes". It's the same old thing and even then, she listens to every word he has to say as he shivers in her palm.

— Is quite surprised to say the least. He didn't expect the soft lips of his perfect wife to press against his small head but that doesn't mean it wasn't welcomed, if anything he cried more, though this time, not about the fact that he was hunted by demon slayers. Well, maybe that too, but that was only so his wife could pity him more and give him more kisses.

"T-They were all s-so awful! Their b-blades against my n-n-neck was so a-agonising!! It scared me!" He sobbed while hugging her thumb, wiping his tears and snot on the sleeve of his kimono as he continued his complaints. "Oh, my poor husband. Maybe some kisses will make you feel better." She said as she places a multitude of soft pecks on not only his head but also his small body. The small demon could not resist the feeling of his wife's lips against him and thus moved closer so more of his body could gain the sensation of her lips pressing against it.

— Is far too shy (scared) to ask for kisses. Instead, he uses his manipulation tactics to get her to pity him and so she could kiss him. A little bit of guilt here and there but it is all worth it for a few of his wife's kisses.

— Is the one who enjoys getting kissed by his wife the most after Aizetsu and surprisingly enough is very greedy for them to the point where he forgets being shy and simply begs for her to kiss him.

"P-Please kiss me again, d-dear! Just o-one more time!" He pleaded, almost on the verge of crying again at the thought of his wife's show of affection stopping. She chuckles softly at his desperacy for her kisses and is even a little bit surprised at how much he craves them. Usually he's busy cowering in a corner or something. "Of course, my love. I'll give you all the kisses you want." She cooed before her lips pressed themselves against his cheeks.

— Gets extremely flustered if it's on the lips. He'll begin to stutter and perhaps even forget how to speak as his face flushes a bright red despite his still heart not really giving a proper blood flow.

— Must always kiss him whenever he leaves for a mission or in general, or if you go to bed or anywhere else really and it must be on the lips, he will settle for nothing less. And I mean nothing less.

— Will kiss you softly in your sleep if he returns from a mission and you're already lights out before cuddling up beside you.

— Favourite places to kiss you are your lips, forehead and cheeks, how cute.

𝐒𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐨

— Sekido is probably at the patio rubbing his temples, trying to get a moment of silence and peace all to himself after having dealt with his annoying younger selves. Their tomfoolery and clown-like behaviour makes him want to absorb them so they shut up, especially Karaku who doesn't know when to keep his trap shut.

— The tension in his head is instantly relieved at the mere sound of his wife. He had heard her approaching from a few rooms away and is pleased with her presence before standing up to give her a firm hug and sighing heavily to begin his complaining about the other clones.

— Completely caught off guard and stunned to silence when he suddenly feels his wife's lips against his face, only blinking in pleasant surprise as his crimson eyes stare into hers. He never knew how much he liked her kisses until now.

"They are such a pain to manage and it makes want to rip them all to shreds so they could shut their traps for once!" He spat angrily while shaking his head in annoyance. The urge to punch something grew ever so stronger as he then got up to grab and throw something before he was interrupted by the feeling of soft lips on his jawline. "Don't break stuff, Sekido, those are expensive." Her soothing voice rang out in the large space, the soft sound waves of her voice reaching his hypersensitive pointed ears and instantly calming his extreme rage.

— Will immediately ask for more kisses and is not ashamed about it, though that won't encourage him to openly ask infront of the others, especially not Karaku.

— Surprisingly enough, he gets a bit hot and bothered at just your kisses alone and even moreso when on the lips. Poor clone is constantly stressed out that any outlet of relief already gets him so worked up. Doesn't mean it's unattractive, if you know what I mean 👀

"Again." He huffs softly, rough hands grabbing onto her waist and pulling her to his frame before his lips connect to hers. Immediately, his tongue fights its way through her mouth, intertwining with hers and venturing as deep as it could. His hands hold onto her waist firmly before one of his them slips just below her buttock and groped it firmly, the other slipping upwards and cupping her breast.

— He was beginning to enjoy himself before his advances were stopped by you with the excuse that the others would hear and would also want to join, much to his disappointment and irritation.

— Nevertheless, he's well-aware that you're right. While he doesn't mind sharing you with the others in the slightest, he'd like to have you alone for a little while due to how worked up he is.

— Will give you kisses should you go anywhere that's not near them and may even follow you just ensure your safety and expect the same when he's going on missions.

— Favourite places to kiss are neck, lips and jawline.

𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐮

— At this point, she's had the idea to go around and kiss the other clones to see how they'd react and she had a fair idea of what Karaku's reaction would be. Karaku, who was in the kitchen doing God knows what, was surprised when his wife suddenly approached him and kissed him on the lips.

— I mean, who said he's complaining? If anything, he can put aside time he had made to play fight with Urogi for a few kisses and perhaps more from his wife (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)

"Am I that irresistible to you, sweet thing?" He purred teasingly, face leaning in far beyond her personal space (not that she minds). "Perhaps." She teased back before backing away her head. "Oh no, no, stay a little. I'd like to have some more little kisses from my little wife!" Karaku wasn't going to let her get away that easily, no way. The demon grabbed her hips and pulled her closer before kissing her neck and jawline, slowly trailing his lips upwards towards her lips.

— Instantly got handsy with you (no surprise there), hands busy down there groping your asscheeks as if they were some stress toys while he's busy making out with you. Almost seemed like he wanted to lift you up...

— His mouth was definitely everywhere, especially near your cleavage. The guy has a weird obsession with your boobs and not just in the horny way.

— Was definitely disappointed when you pulled away and said you still have the other clones to attend to but didn't fuss about it. He's just happy he got to get a few grabs on his wife here and there and managed to get a make out session with her, even if short.

"Alright, alright, fine. But were definitely continuing this when you're done." Karaku says before giving her rear a slap and disappearing into the living room as she stood there chuckling at his behaviour. She expected nothing less from the pleasure demon.

— Will often try to engage a make out session with you whether or not the others are present and not giving a rat's ass about what they may think, do, or say as long as he got to taste your lips.

— Favourite places to kiss are definitely cleavage/boobs and neck. He's that guy.

𝐀𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐭𝐬𝐮

— Shocked but gladly welcomed it as his face gained a light red colour before he kissed back harder. Instantly went soft and (politely) asked for more kisses, also wanting to feel his head be held in her delicate hands.

— Immediately begins to complain about Sekido having yelled at him too much and that he was following orders. Out of each clone so far, Aizetsu appeared the most stressed and frustrated and the only way he could out that was through crying since he didn't really possess any other emotional receptors other than sorrow.

"He always yells so much, it hurts my ears and head... Even when I do what I'm told he still yells." The now crying demon sniffles softly into the crook of her neck. She pat his back softly as she listened to him vent while also scolding Sekido in her head at his brash behaviour. "Please kiss me, darling... Your love always makes me feel better." Even if he couldn't feel the emotion love itself, he loved it when his wife would express her love for him no matter what way that may be (pause).

— The longer this goes on, the sappier he gets as he constantly asks for words of affirmation and kisses while snuggling you more. While he prefers kisses on his forehead and cheek, he isn't too shy to kiss back on the lips and they're not just the soft once you see in those love story movies.

— The man (demon) can kiss just as well as the others, I mean for goodness' sake, they're the same person but at different ages of their shared life (even though that's barely noticeable). Aizetsu can start a whole make out session if he so wished with the way his tongue was dancing with yours right now, but all he wants right now is comfort from the frustration his second oldest counterpart had caused (Urami is the oldest, dumb dumb excluding Hantengu).

— Like Hantengu, he's a sucker for kisses. Please kiss this man anywhere (pause) because he loves it. He'll kiss you too in return, can't only take without giving something in return for his lovely wife, now can he?

— He comes to you when he's sadder than usual for kisses and snuggles so he can calm down or in case the others are too loud.

— Favourite places to kiss are corner of your lip, nose and temple

𝐔𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐢

— Oh boy, this one is already so hyperactive and it only gets worse when he gets attention from his wife, so imagine how giggly and jumpy he was when he suddenly felt her lips connect to his. He could almost ascend to the heavens even though that's not where he's ever going.

— Will demand for more because it makes him happy and according to him, he gets "a pleasant feeling" in his chest that he can't get enough of.

— Will instantly grab hold of her to deepen the kiss, so much so that he forgets she needs to breathe (oopsie). He does apologise for forgetting so there's a plus.

"You taste exquisite, songbird. I could kiss those lips forever and not get tired from it." Said the lively harpy clone before once again going in for a deep and passionate kiss while being mindful of his talons and wrapping his wings around her.

— Guaranteed privacy screen with his wings when your kissing him. It reminds him of how you belong to nobody else but him, that you love only him (and the clones) and have eyes for nobody else. It's also a way of asserting his dominance.

— Absolutely LOVES it when you put your hands on his chest, it fuels his already inflated ego since he's the clone who shows off the most ("How do you like my talons?" ahh). Not only does he like to gloat about his talons and their strength, but he also LOVES to show off his body to you and boast about how good he looks (for you).

— Can't have Urogi headcanons without mentioning his wings now, can I? Since – according to actual research – caressing a bird's wings can get them aroused/sexually frustrated (if you don't do anything else), Urogi loves it when you place small kisses on his wings. It makes him feel oh so good. Sometimes he forgets he can't just grab you randomly and make love to you right then and there. Oh well, a kiss will do for now.

"Kiss my wings, it feels good." Urogi commands rather bluntly as he flared his wings out for her, caressing her face gently to coax her into kissing them. She chuckled softly before doing what was requested from her. She was quite surprised to hear a soft, barely audible moan from Urogi before realising why he wanted her to kiss his wings. That gives her ideas for... future playtime.

— Gets embarrassed when you hear him moan and uses the excuse that you must've heard wrong or teases you about wanting him (I sure do 😝). He will never admit that his wings do more than just get him to moan.

— Favourite places to kiss are ears, collarbone, forehead and lips.

𝐙𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐧

Now, hear me out. While I among many other people see Zohakuten as a child, I've got a more complicated view on it. I see Zohakuten as an adult child if that makes sense. I am comfortable with writing him being married to an adult woman because essentially, he is still an adult, like he has the mental age of an 87 year old man. I can write stuff like kissing and even minor spicy stuff for him but that extends only so far (i.e: him purposely shoving his face into Y/N's breasts like Karaku just to get attention or just very slight groping). I will not go any further than that point. No exceptions. He still physically appears as a child.

— Now, this is a little different. After everyone had calmed down and the wife was wandering elsewhere, they all had gotten the sudden strong urge to fuse. They all realised that Zohakuten wants to have a turn and who could blame him? They just got married and not to mention he rarely ever reveals himself.

— Imagine her surprise when she hears a deep voice – somewhere in the range of Sekido's voice – calling out to her "Woman." and turning around to see a the youngest clone standing there with his arms behind his back.

— Of course, like a good husband, he asked how she fared while he was out on a mission and the usual before respectfully asking for a kiss, however, there was a very faint hint of envy present. She knew he was a tad bit envious of his older counterparts being able to gain her affection at any time of the day or night while he couldn't so of course she couldn't resist him.

"I've missed you..." He mumbles softly before wrapping his arms around his precious wife, reveling the feeling of getting to hold her in his arms even if only for a moment. "I've missed you more, my darling." She coos in return before cupping his small face and placing a soft kiss on his lips. Zohakuten in turn intensified the kiss, his fangs grazing her lower lip as he did so and arms tightening around her waist.

— Believe it or not, this little fella is a certified gentleman. Ignoring what he said to the Love Hashira (💀), this boy is the most gentlemanly after Urami. He's the type to hold your hand like those princes with their princesses to assist you when walking down the stairs.

— I mean, everytime he reveals himself, he greets you with a small bow and a kiss to the back of your palm, idk what more you could want from this little cutie.

— Although, he can be quite vulgar, he tones it down a massive amount when he's around you and is less scornful thanks to the calming effect your presence has on him.

— Do not he surprised when he's simply staring at you with a harsh look as if you've just murdered his main body, that's just him suppressing the urge to kiss you.

"Uhm, d-dear?" The wife calls softly to Zohakuten who's been doing nothing but stare at her with the harshest glare she's ever seen him stare at her with. Zohakuten snaps out of his daze as his expression softens before he hums inquistively. "You've been staring at me like I've just sided with the demon slayers. Is everything, okay?" His eyes then widen slightly before he sighs and shakes his head. "Oh... no. I just simply wish to kiss you, that is all." Her cheeks gained a red tint after that surprisingly blunt and honest confession as she then smiles. "Oh, well... Who am I to say no?"

— Is very honest about what he wants if he's caught. Unlike the other clones – excluding Urami – and the main body, who try to hide what they want, Zohakuten is not shy to admit that he wants your lips against his and he will say that with the straightest face.

— Loves it when you kiss his forehead, it makes him feel all soft inside and he doesn't know why or how.

— Favourite places to kiss are hands, temple and lips.

𝐔𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢

— His presence alone surprised her even more than Zohakuten, especially when he walked out of the room that Hantengu was in. Urami reveals himself every once in a blue moon due to the fact that he simply wishes not to deal with his younger selves' bickering and monkey business. However, seeing as all the others gained a bit of affection from their wife and that they're newlyweds, he too wished to spend some time with his wife.

— Much like Zohakuten, he's very gentlemanly when it comes to asking for affection from his wife. He respectfully asked if he could hold her and lift her up to his level so he could kiss her properly.

— Hear me out. The best kisser after Karaku. I don't know, he just looks like he has so much experience with women (which he kinda does 😒), like look how massive he is 😳.

She was surprised when a rather large hand gently grabbed her waist to turn her around. "Oh! Hello you!" She greeted happily as she looked up at her massive husband before hugging his legs. He was surprised but allowed it and even picked her up into his arms before kissing her temple. "Yes. I figured why not also be present when the others are gaining your addicting love?" Quite a flirt.

— Urami is surprisingly chill when it comes to kissing yet also really passionate. Like think of just wanting a quick kiss from big ass hubby over there and he picks you up only to give the most leg-shaking casual kiss ever 😫.

— He's quite a flirt. You could almost say he's near Karaku's level just minus to pervert stares, touches and so on. Like, he's the type of "Formal old man dilf" type of flirt and knows how to use his words, he just doesn't do it often due to how rarely he's present and even if he is, he's just mostly quiet (most sane clone).

— Should he ever engage in flirting with you, be prepared to have a face painted red and him drinking blood as if it were tea as he sits there with his most neutral expression.

— I swear, his kisses make you think you're a virgin again with how well he does it. Like, he even uses his fangs to graze your lips and even your tongue softly while also (respectfully) touching you to the point where your legs aren't even jelly, they're straight up water (😏).

Urami felt the familiar grip of his wife's hands on his kimono and knew that he was once again doing a flawless job at making her melt like ice in his arms and he couldn't be more satisfied at that fact as his fangs gently graze her tongue that was being twirled with his as if it were a sort of waltz. "You're doing it again." The tall clone teased before resuming their kiss.

— Holds your face or hands when he's kissing you cuz he's just that guy.

— Favourite places to kiss are hands, neck and forehead.

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