#it's a super soft fluffy falling in love with your enemy when he's no longer your enemy fic. 'hes seen the worst parts of me and decided I | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( SOMETHING COMFORTING. )

Jeon Jungkook loves Overwatch, drinking games, and Halloween. What he loves more than that? You.

pairing. gamer!jjk x named f!reader.

genre + rating. idol!au set in room filled with bunnies and a cotton candy machine that’s exploded. it’s just that fluffy. (but also explicit cause why not.)

tags / warnings. established relationship, gaming (overwatch), dorky weeb references, mentions of drinking, yugyeom makes an appearance (!!), fingering, soft soft soft love making in the shower.

wc. 9.7k

beta reader(s). the lovely @kerikaaria read through this to make sure i didn’t get too nerdy. tysm! 💛 i may like further changes once my beloved @hobi-gif gets her hands on it but i’m a potato who wanted to post this quickly. oops...

author note. this fulfills the “jeon jungkook” square of @btsholidaybingo‘s bts holiday bingo 2020 and this is the couple from angels & airwaves. while this story isn’t super plot-driven, it’s meant to be a little peek into the lives of a couple that live in my mind rent-free and continue to make me soft and gooey inside. i hope you enjoy it!

You don’t know how he talked you into it or how it really happened. You remember, faintly, the mention of a party. Something about it being a small thing - just a few close friends, the members, etc. He’d said it so offhand, like commenting on the sky or asking for another package of Choco Boys, so you hadn't given it a second thought. If it was important, he’d bring it up again and if not, well, you hardly remembered it anyway. Win-win or whatever.

So you’d given up some intelligence points, traded them for space to fit more gaming knowledge. Somewhere along the line went your memory too - the conversation wiped from your brain like Will Smith had lasered it clean.

“Zarya’s one! Zarya’s one—“ You’re not sure how many times you can repeat yourself, shrieking through comms to a team that doesn’t seem to want to listen. You’re blasted into oblivion, Mercy’s prone body launched across the map as you watch your Rein fall too. There’s an irritation bubbling in your stomach, fizzing uncomfortably like the Japanese honeydew soda you’d had at lunch. “Zarya’s actually one!”

No one cares. She’s healed by the time you respawn and make it back across the map.

“Jesus—“ Your push-to-talk remains off for that flippant comment, distaste colouring your words a bitter shade of blue. You almost want to let your Ashe get headshot by the enemy Widow, only switching the stream from damage boosting to healing when your teammate starts spamming their hotkey.

I need healing! I need healing!

What you need is a team that listens to your calls or at the very least communicates in some way. Doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen though. There’s near radio silence in the voice chat, the only other person remotely helpful being your bouncing booping Lucio that’s trying to keep a flanking Tracer off point. Stupid. You almost feel bad for him, Guardian Angeling to him when no one else seems to want to offer any support.

Ah, the life of a support player in masters ranked. So infuriating and yet— nope. Just infuriating.

You lose the first round with 1:56 to spare, to no one’s surprise. Okay, maybe to your Reinhardt’s surprise. He’s being surprisingly chipper in text chat, sending WP and a dorky smiley face. You think he must volunteer at the local animal shelter and buy coffee for the people behind him in the drive-thru. He’s far too well-adjusted, not shooting off a single accusation to anyone on the team. A silver lining, you suppose.

Your second round starts well enough. Your comp is solid - as much as it can be in the current off-tank dominated meta. Hog, Zarya, a private profiled GM Widowmaker, Tracer, Lucio, and you as Ana. You’d prefer to play Mercy - find the most comfort in her skill set - but on an attack map, you’re not risking a headshot right out of spawn. Broken maximum damage good stuff means healers are squishy and you don’t have your usual DPS to boost. (He’s off doing god knows what - maybe filming an ad for Samsung or breaking the internet with his permed man bun.)

You make it through the choke without much ado. The enemy Rein is wildly out of position, eager to make some big brained play that goes terribly wrong. Your Lucio chuckles through voice and you join him, tossing a nade when your Zarya looks like she’s about to die to a poorly executed 360 shatter.

“You winning?”

It’s your boyfriend peeking over your shoulder, so close you nearly scream, mouse launched across your desk with the intensity of your reaction. You hadn’t heard him come in, the stupid sneaky bastard as quiet as a mouse.

(It’s not your own fault. He knows you can’t hear anything when you’ve got your headphones on, the noise cancelling in your state of the art Sennheisers not something to scoff at.)

“Jeez, Kook!” You want to be more mad. Really, you do. You’re scrambling across your desk to retrieve your mouse, squeaking a quick apology into team voice when your hero stays in one place for too long. Luckily, Hog - previously sweet kind Rein - throws his big fat piggy self directly in front of you, effectively saving you from an otherwise miserable death at the hands of Torbjorn.

“What?” Jeon Jungkook has the audacity to look scandalised, shiny eyes so wide and innocent they feel more as if they belong in an early 2000s anime.

You’re not even looking at him when you huff - too invested in your Overwatch game to give him the hell he deserves. All you manage is a swift don’t scare me like that! as you pump your tanks back to full health.

You notice Jungkook hasn’t moved away, still peering curiously over your shoulder. You know he hasn’t had much time to play lately, too involved with appearances for their comeback, his schedule too packed even for you some days. You don’t blame him when he pulls his chair up behind you, rolling into place so he’s just within your periphery.

It’s a little distracting; he smells good, like his - and by extension your - favourite laundry detergent and a fruity, nectarine-heavy shampoo you’d picked up for him when he’d run out of his usual. You notice then that his hair is wet, just the wrong-side of too damp with droplets beading over his neck. Moisture soaks into the top of his shirt and you think it might be more soaked than you can see; it’s hard to tell when it’s a jet black shirt, one of the many he keeps in your closet for the nights he stays over. You realise then that he must’ve been home far longer than you’d thought, if his freshly washed pink cheeks are any indication. (Because he takes seriously long showers, nearly doubling your water bill in the year you’ve been together.)

You want to ask what he’s doing here - you’d sworn he was busy for the next few days - but can’t find the adequate brain power to do so. You’re playing an incredibly high skill character (your words) and if you don’t get this goddamn shot on your Lucio to keep him up, your team is going to die (your ego’s words).

‘Ask Kook about his day’ gets scribbled on a paper on the desk in your head and filed away under To Do Later in your overflowing brainiac filing cabinet.

“Can we pleaaaaase focus their Zarya? She has grav.” Though you offer the tidbit of information, you don’t assume it’s going to be relied upon. Your team is well on their way to taking first point - surprisingly - and there’s still nearly three minutes left on the clock. If the six of you idiots can keep it together and kill that goddamn Zarya, there’s no doubt in your mind you’ll win the game.

Alas, fate is but a cruel mistress and said Zarya gets said grav off, sucking your own Russian tank and Tracer-turned-Soldier into her hell void. Not even your well-timed nade can save them from the Genji that dragon blades directly into their faces. Your poor Lucio dies to the same ult and you imagine you or your Widow are next. Your Hog’s just respawning, his lumbering silhouette not even on screen.

“Rip,” says your boyfriend - like the sound, not the letters - from beside you, a droplet of water splashing across your wrist when he shakes his head. He looks disappointed - as if he’s the one that’s lost the match. It makes you laugh, the sound tripping off your tongue despite the overwhelming rage you’re currently battling.

“Rip is right,” you mumble back, tossing yourself off the map. If you’re gonna die, it'll be on your own terms. Jungkook chuckles at that.

By the time you respawn, both you and Widow are joining a fight that looks like it’s going surprisingly well. There’s no one on point and you’re capping uncontested. Widow even headshots a wayward Moira.

“You should go top left.”

You don’t turn your head. Jungkook’s always been a bit of a backseat gamer, whether he’s watching your stream while he’s out of town or sitting right beside you. Sometimes, you love it; other times, you hate it. Most times, though, he’s right. He has surprisingly good game sense, despite being lower ranked than you (something you remind him of constantly, without shame).

“Can we go top left?” You parrot into your speaker.

For once, your team listens, most of them running up the sidewall with Widow right down main. Not for the first time you wish you were playing Mercy, if only to be able to damage boost your sniper while she distracts the enemy team. Still, you make due, taking your boyfriend’s next piece of advice when it comes, unsolicited. “You should be back right by the stairs. You can see up the hall and still heal Widow on top.”

You’d kiss him if you weren’t so intently focused, unable to tear your gaze from the screen when the enemy team seems to pluck their strategy directly from Jungkook’s skull and hold conservatively on point. Amazing.

“Your Zarya has grav. She’ll probably throw it on point so you should nade as soon as you get in and Widow can pick them off without full charge.”

If he were anyone else, you’d probably be giving him hell for mansplaining your favourite game to you. As it stands, you follow his instructions to the letter and the Team Kill marker flashes across your screen.

“Told you,” he quips, ever the snooty dork you adore.

“I was going to say thank you.” Just not right now. You can’t multitask quite like he can.

If you could look over, you think you’d see him grinning from ear to ear, buck teeth and dimples on full display. “I know.”

As it stands, the other team has trouble getting on point fast enough and you’re left with a whopping 3:56 left on the clock. Thank freaking god. You can win this, you think. Easy. No problem.

“Go Ana on defense.” At some point, Jungkook had gotten up to find a snack and he returns now, bag of shrimp chips in his hand and packet of matcha Pocky held between his teeth. You open your mouth for a stinky tasty treat and he shoves four crisps in, unceremoniously and with his signature dummy grin.

You manage to crunch crunch crunch through it all but shoot him a glare the entire time. He only smiles wider, all perfectly white enamel and enough cuteness to make your heart skip a beat.

“Do you just want to play?” You don’t mean it seriously. You don’t mind him watching and you know he enjoys pretending like he’s better than you. It’s a strange give and take but one that’s uniquely yours, built over nearly a year of online friendship and another year of a real-life relationship.

“Nah, I’m snacking.” He punctuates his response as a child would, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. You wonder, briefly, why you love him so much when he’s a certifiable goon.

The third match begins and you’re not too proud to say you spend most of it following Jungkook’s directions. He tells you to sleep the enemy Genji trying to scale the right wall - you do. He tells you to nade once their Rein gets in because your own Rein is going to shatter - you do. He tells you to do the macarena and— okay, that, you don’t.

You sweep the match, leaving the other team without a single tick.

When it comes to the final round, he seems to have lost interest in the game, instead rolling himself back to his computer with a parting, wayward ruffle of your hair. You don’t blame him but you thank him nonetheless, blowing a kiss before he settles his headphones over his ears.

You, of course and unsurprisingly, win the game. There’s nothing like using a Sym portal onto point when they’ve got a Bastion set up off point and no shield to protect him from the back.

Satisfied, you don’t bother requeueing and instead force yourself into your boyfriend’s personal space, draping your arms across the idol’s neck as he scrolls through YouTube like a zombie. “We won,” you sing-song into his ear, proud and a little smug.

“Of course you did.” He sounds equally smug and you suppose the win does belong to the both of you. He’d been a great coach.

“What’re you doing here?” It’s pure curiosity offered in the form of a kiss to his cheek, fingers locked across the broad expanse of his chest. He’s delightfully warm beneath you, familiar and unyielding as you sink over the back of his computer chair. (You can feel the chair creaking as it reclines. You don’t care.)

“Whaddya mean?”

The look he levels you with makes you think you’ve grown a second head.

“Your schedule said you had a thing tonight.” You remember, because you’d been disappointed. Halloween was one of your favourite holidays and all you’d wanted was to watch some campy horror movies and use him as a personal eye shield and security blanket combo.

“We have a thing,” he states, like he’s talking to a moron. You know it isn’t meant meanly, too emphatic and amused to hurt your feelings.

When you echo his words (“We?”) you swear you see him roll his eyes in the reflection of his computer screen. Luckily, he laughs, sweet and cracky, somewhere high in his throat - a barking hyena. It’s so cute - your favourite thing in the world - that you don’t have it in you to shame him for it.

“Yeah, we,” Jungkook repeats around something close to a snicker. “Halloween party, baby. Seriously— you forgot?”

It’s then and there you have two crises: (a) you don’t have a costume and (b) Halloween party? You didn’t think idols had those. Weren’t they all too hip and cool to get together to dress up and act stupid?

(You know the answer is no. Exhibit A being the costume-wearing dance practices BTS put out.)

“I don’t have anything to wear.” It’s truly the one thing holding you back, creasing the soft skin between your brows to resemble a peach. It’s also nearing seven in the evening and you’re absolutely certain you’re not going to find something so late in the day.

To your surprise. Jungkook looks flabbergasted, that same you-have-two-heads stare wrought across his face. It’d be endearing if it were directed at anyone else but with it trained on you, it’s rubbing you and your confusion the wrong way. Why’s he looking at you like that? Why’s your memory so bad? Why hasn’t he said anything to answer all of life’s questions?

“You said you’d go as witch Mercy.”

All at once, you’re pulled back to the offhand conversation, the pleading in his eyes, your half-asleep acceptance. It’s the memory you’d lost somewhere along the way in upgrading your in-brain video game storage. A conversation had in bed, his cheeks so big and full of joy they’d waned his eyes into crescents, and your uncoordinated answer because you’d just wanted to go to sleep and not think about anything after indulging in a few too many mochi cream buns.

“I— don’t remember that.” You’re lying through your damn teeth. Your parents would be devastated, all their hard earned money wasted on the braces-straightened enamel that was now letting lies pass.

“But you did!” He’s like a kid being denied candy, rounded bottom lip dropping into a pout that should, frankly, be illegal. It’s far too powerful on him, paired with those Bambi eyes that scream don’t eat (hate/deny/etc.) me! You can only scowl at him, because you know your own puppy dog eyes only work 100% of the time half of the time whereas his track record was immaculate.

“Okay, but I forgot to get the—“

“I have it!”

Jeon Jungkook has an answer for everything, it seems.

“I picked it up on the way here. It’s in your room along with my costume.”

The knowledge of his own intrigues you, squarely centring your curiosity on that and not the fact that you apparently need to get tested for early onset dementia. “Who’re you going as?”

“You’ll see.”

Your costume is spectacular. You can’t even find it in yourself to put up much of a fight when your boyfriend reveals it like you’ve won the lottery, throwing his arms wide in a flourish.

It’s incredibly well made, intricately tailored in a way that makes you worry how much it costs. (When you bring it up to him, Jungkook simply shrugs. You think it’s as much a gift for you as it is for him.) It’s witchy and eye-catching, the belt hung across your hips clipped with an actual book - hollowed out, thank god but also poor thing. The hat that sits on your head is neatly crumpled, sitting at such an angle you worry whether you’ll need to avoid too-low door frames. Your wings - well, you’re almost too afraid to touch them; Jungkook has to help you pull them over your arms, falling into near hysterics when you twitch your elbow the wrong way and smack him right between the eyes.

“I don’t think I can pull this off,” you state, somberly, despite the fact that you’re not terribly self-conscious. (You were, once. Being in a relationship with someone that worships your body has helped with that.)

The top of your outfit is fitted, boned and ribbed and snapped together in all the right places. Leather stands in stark contrast to your skin - summer-soft and gently golden - and hugs curves that don’t quite exist, falling short in a way that has you glaring down at your own chest. You’ve never wanted a Playboy body but in this sort of costume, it practically demands it. (You try not to dwell on the fact that you’ve been conditioned to want to look like an impractically designed video game hero.)

From the foot of your bed comes a snort, a derisive sound that draws your attention. Jungkook’s unabashed in how he admires you, stare roving over every inch like he’s about to devour you. You’re not sure how you can feel so soft for him when he looks completely the opposite, jaw set and expression sharp. A Greek god carved from hardened honey, dressed in Balenciaga blue. “You look great, angel.”

Your heart skips a beat - plays a funny little game of tag with itself - and you can’t help the smile that comes, brought to life by his reassurance. It isn’t necessary to rebuff him then - eyes rolling, laugh spilling - but you do it anyway. “You have to say that. You’re my boyfriend.”

“I don’t have to say anything,” he retorts, levelling you with a look that has your insides molten. It’s the look that reads don’t test me but also I love you and you’re my idiot. It’s your favourite look in the world, lending wings to your flimsy heart. “You look great because you always look great, no matter what.”

“What about when you found me in the shower ?”

Jungkook hesitates then. He’s no liar and he had almost had a heart attack the first time it’d happened. He’d been minding his business, half-asleep and battling the need to piss, when he’d noticed you curled up in the bathroom. How he hadn’t realised you were missing from bed, he’s not sure. All he knew was that you’d terrified him, mentioning something about invading refrigerators when he was pulling his dick out of his boxers.

His scream was what had woken you up; yours was what had him bashing his head into the wall, foot slipping on the soft pink bathroom rug. You could laugh about it now but at the time, you’d thought he’d cracked his skull right open, shouting his name so loudly the neighbours had complained.

(Lucky for you two, they were a nice elderly couple who sometimes had you babysit their grandson. They’d laughed it off when you’d apologised with a loaf of fresh bread and a bandage wrapped around your boyfriend’s head.)

“Okay— that was scary. I thought you’d crawled out of the drain or something.” A shudder rolls through Jungkook’s body, shaking him from his shoulders all the way down to his knees. It’s a strangely adorable reaction from someone who looks like he could bench press you.

“You’re calling me the Grudge?” You’re deeply offended, gloved hands clasping over your chest as if to pull out the treacherous dagger he’s just lodged there. He only rolls his eyes, leaning forward to catch you in his arms; he’s relentless as he drags you to him, side of his face pressed to the bare skin of your thigh. His cheek’s searing but you’re not surprised; Jungkook ran hot, keeping you warm in winter and sweltering in summer. (Ah, the price you paid for love.)

“Yeah, you haunt me in my dreams.”

“That’s not the Grudge, Kook.” Your scoff earns you a pinch, right where the top of your stockings end. It blooms red beneath his fingers, a little reminder of his competitive I’m-never-wrong nature. You swat his hand away, not too bothered when it only finds a home elsewhere, hooked behind your knee. Jungkook had a habit of needing to be in constant contact. A little quirk of his you adored.

“I’m serious. You look—” You should clock the look on his face, the wiggle of mischief up his nose. A dead giveaway shining bright - a beacon. “—bewitching.”

If the book weren’t attached to your hip, you’d be clobbering him with it. Instead, you’re left to whack him with the equally intricate Caduceus staff, booping it over his shoulders. You feel like a certain shamanic mandrill, Jungkook the idiotic lion that’s asking for an earful.

“Shut up!” You’re laughing despite yourself and he is too, holding you so recklessly close it’s hard to hit him without hurting yourself. All part of his plan, you suppose. “You’re so freaking corny.”

“It’s because I’m a-maize-ing, ang—”

Another wap! to the head, shielded only by a tattooed hand that curls over his ear.

“Okay! Sorry!” Except he doesn’t look very sorry. More pleased that you’ve stopped the assault, dark hair pushed back from his forehead as he stares up at you. You hate how he’s so handsome - how you forget yourself when he smiles that smile, nearly yeeting your whole heart directly into the sun.

“Are you going to put on yours yet?”

It’s quarter past nine already and all you’ve done is rope him into eating some chapaguri - you’ve been obsessed with it since a few weeks ago - and play real life Witch Barbie. You have a feeling if you don’t get him into his own costume soon, you’re never going to leave the apartment. (Not that you really mind.)

Your boyfriend - bless his heart - pretends not to hear you, suddenly intently focused on an indiscernible spot past your hip. It’d be more believable if he was glued to his phone or doing anything remotely interesting. Instead, you stare down at him and count the seconds until he realises just how silly he looks. It usually comes around six, paired with a forced chuckle and that lisp you love.

Today, it comes after the fourth count.

“You’re gonna think it’s lame.” Well, of course you will. As his girlfriend - and one of his best friends, you’d like to think - it’s your relationship-given right to shame him for his more often than not absurd ideas. It’s what you deserve for suffering through all his bad jokes and 3 AM Instagram spams.

With a hand on his cheek, you squeeze the apple like you’ve seen a certain member do a million times. “So?”

He’s not really sure how to respond to that, mouth drawn into a pout that reminds you of children’s television show about penguins. It’s unfairly adorable. Still, you push. Jungkook’s bad at saying no to you - always has been, even before he really knew you. From “one more game!” to “bring me bingsu”, you always got what you wanted.

(Which wasn’t to say you asked for a lot. You were happy - more than that, ecstatic and over the moon - with the bare minimum. A selfie while on the plane, some shoddy cinematography during dance practice, a voicemail to wake up to. You didn’t love Jungkook for all the things he gave you; rather, you loved him for who he was, who he’d always been even before you knew who he really was.)

“Don’t laugh.” By the look on his face, you’re worried it’s something awful. The cheesiest thing in the world come to life to haunt you on your beloved spooky holiday.

It turns out to be the opposite: one of your favourite characters realised in the form of your achingly handsome boyfriend. He looks so good you’re not certain whether it’s your attraction to him or him in that particular guise that’s stronger. You figure it doesn’t matter one way or another. For tonight, they’re one and the same.

“Joker? Seriously?” You can’t hide the delight. It colours every syllable, sets them glowing like a neon sign.

Your boyfriend only rolls his eyes, as if he’d predicted this reaction. Dressed as he is, the movement is impossible to miss, brought into focus by the white domino mask. “Don’t sound so excited.” It’s an actual concern of his. He’s seen you sink upwards of ninety hours on the video game, playing it in the early hours when he’s fast asleep and you’re battling another night of insomnia.

Once, he’d asked whether you loved him or Joker more. He hadn’t liked the answer (joking as it was) and had spent the better part of the evening pouting.

This time, you’re sweet as pie, eyes so dark and twinkly he wonders whether he’s staring at the night sky. You wonder the same yourself almost every night, lost in the constellations of his irises. It’s the most intimate form of stargazing you can afford, a luxury you indulge in frequently. You’ve mapped the different formations, named them in honour of all the special moments you’ve shared; you think to label one for this night too.

“You look so good.” You don’t hesitate to brush his hair from his eyes. It’s still relaxing from the perm he’d gotten days ago, curling like classic calligraphy over his eyes. It’s surprisingly soft between your fingers, silk despite the constant heat styling. Bastard. “I can’t believe you’re going as Joker. You don’t even like Persona 5!”

By how Jungkook looks at you then - the same way he did the first time you met standing on the street corner in Dotonbori and a hundred more times since then - you realise it doesn’t matter. He’s dressed this way because you like the character.

“Oh,” you say, because there’s not much more to say. Nothing that needs to be said as he grins down at you, so heartbreakingly handsome you’ll never get used to it.

“Yeah,” he parrots back, a little smug.

Bangtan’s golden maknae is having the time of his life. He’s four cups deep into a game of beer pong that’s played like the Wimbledon classic, back hunched, jaw set. You’d think he was battling it out for the title of God of Beer Pong if you didn’t know better. (You suppose he is.)

“Angel, come here!” He’s giddy - slightly glazed in the eyes - as he waves you over, a red-gloved hand beckoning you to his side. Despite how good he looks in the costume - every weakness of yours encapsulated by the intricate dress shirt that hugs him like a second skin - the gesture is decidedly adorable, an eager puppy seeking unconditional love. There’s simply too much affection in his voice, so much sugar-spun love that you can’t deny him (even as you consider jumping his bones at a party full of people).

He’s shining as bright as the sun and you want nothing more than to live within his warmth.

With your fingers twined, he pulls you to him, drawing you tight against his side like he doesn’t need that same hand to throw another ball. You don’t mind. You know he’ll sink it even with his left hand.

“I’m winning,” he states, as if it weren’t wildly obvious by the fact all cups remain untouched on his side.

Across the table, Yugyeom’s eyes roll so far back you want to laugh. Jungkook’s competitive side is endearing at best and infuriating at worst. Luckily, his competition is enjoying himself too much to give him shit.

(He’s also probably too drunk to, given how badly he’s doing.)

“I see that.” You’re not a big drinker yourself but you like seeing Jungkook in his element. He thrives in this sort of setting, showing off all the talents he has and then some. It’s just another stage to him, somewhere he can prove himself (even if it’s over something as small as how good his bounce-shot is). “How many games have you won?” Because he’s been at this table for the last hour, dropping his competition like flies.

“All of them.” God, his ego. You know you shouldn’t stroke it but you can’t help it, brushing a hand through his tousled hair in the way he likes best. Fingers over his scalp, thumb rubbing soothing circles across the nape of his neck. He nearly melts then, tilting his head into the gentle caress.

“Good job, Kook.”

You’re so lost in your own little world that poor Yugyeom has to pull you both from it, launching a poorly-aimed white ping pong ball at the two of you. To no one’s surprise, it careens past your heads, hitting the wall behind you and disappearing off to god knows where.

“Can we play?” Again, that eye roll, visible just past the bandages that loosely wrap his cheeks. You know he’s only teasing, that he’s actually quite a fan of your and Jungkook’s dumb coupling (he’s told you), but you return his mockery with a raised hand, thumb and forefinger waving in salute.

“Losers don’t get to complain.”

The idol throws a hand to his chest, the gesture bordering on sloppy from the liquor that threads his limbs. Still, it’s cute, earning a sweet laugh from you and a witch’s cackle from your boyfriend. (How fitting.) “I’m hurt, Yoojin-ssi.”

It’s Jungkook’s turn to tease, brattiness flipped on like a haywire lightswitch. “No, you’re just bad at games!” He’s a sniggering schoolgirl, lines wrapping the delicate skin of his nose, streaking joy into the wrinkles beneath his eyes. Slightly-too-big front teeth are on full display, his expression the embodiment of an “uwu” emote.

That riles Yugyeom up, powder puff of hair bounding over to you before you have time to blink. In the next moment, your boyfriend’s half-wrestling with him, their arms locked around each other like some sort of weird four-limbed octopus. (Video game protagonist vs. hot mummy— who will win?) You jump back just in time, avoiding a wayward fist and laughing merrily. Idiots, the both of them.

“You guys have fun.” And then you’re gone, off to busy yourself with people who won’t accidentally give you a black eye or knock over the nearest thing not bolted to the ground.

You can still hear them tussling when you latch yourself to the back of a certain blond. He’s dressed like one of your greatest nightmares - an actual clown, drawing inspiration from a certain 2017 blockbuster - and yet somehow still manages to look good. You don’t understand it and frankly, you’re a little envious, but such was life.

“Jimin-ssiiiii.”

“Ahhhhhh, stop!” It’s the same reaction he always has, paired with wiggling shoulders and sweet laughter that bounces around the room and stirs to life your own. Indisputable and lovely, the sound is brighter than the sun or the lights that currently swing through the chandelier lights above your heads. “You two are ridiculous.”

“He’s ridiculous, not me!” You know it isn’t true. Separately, you and Jungkook were idiotic enough, finding humour in the silliest things (funny threads on r/Relationship_Advice and four year old Vines). But together? It was a two-person circus, graduate professors at clown college.

You absolutely loved it.

“Sure, sure,” the dancer hums, delightfully disbelieving as he takes another shot. One of three lined up across the counter, clear in little orange cups made to look like pumpkins. A whiff tells you they’re strawberry soju - your least favourite flavour. You decline with a wrinkled nose and waving hand when he offers you one. Jimin shrugs and downs the next, delicately wiping the corner of his mouth when he misjudges the pour. “Aren’t you drinking?”

You wiggle the half-empty Cass bottle in your hand in response and receive a scoff, different bottle - green, unopened - thrust into your other.

“Drink this!”

“You want me to drink an entire bottle?” You’re incredulous. Jimin’s seen you on the edge of intoxication and more than a little sloppy, giggling like a schoolgirl. It’s not unbecoming - you know better than to get blackout - but laughable nonetheless. Something to record and post on Snapchat with a voice-altering filter.

“It’s Halloween!” The pumpkin shot glass makes you go cross-eyed before he’s knocking it back too. “Live a little!”

Who are you to say no to the recent birthday boy? It would simply be bad manners and you were nothing if polite (though, you’re sure some might beg to differ - Yoongi, maybe?).

The remnants of your beer are swallowed down in the next moment, so quickly you almost choke on it. Your life flashes before your eyes, Jimin’s hand on your shoulder as he beats breath into your body. “Don’t die!” He cries, despite the fact that it’s his fist that’s making it worse, doubling you over with hacking coughs.

“K-Kook’s g-going to kill you—”

“No, you’re fine.” He’s reassuring you just as much as himself, laughing too loudly as you straighten up. You wonder how red your face is when he takes your place, slapping his own knee as he shakes with amusement. “Your face, oh— Your face.”

It’s not meant to be offensive but your buzzed brain demands payment for each giggle.

The base of the green bottle collides with the back of his knee - gentle, gentle - just hard enough to have him properly toppling over, collapsing onto the carpet like a frail old grandpa without his cane. You can’t help the snicker that careens off your liquor-laden tongue.

That is, until he’s pulling you down with him and the two of you are a giggling, giddy mess, tucked beneath the edge of the bar as you laugh together. It’s a chorus of sound, unrelenting and building the longer you both sit on the floor. Jimin’s practically hunched over, head caught between his propped up arms. You imagine it’s a funny sight - two people in their twenties acting like college freshmen.

“Baby?” It’s your boyfriend, amused and confused as he stares down at your and Jimin’s prone bodies. He’s got that dent between his brows, the colour of his eyes all but swallowed up by the way his cheeks press wide with his smile. “What’re you doing down there?”

“Just hanging out,” you answer, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. At your side, Jimin’s still trying to collect himself, parroting your words around his lungfuls of quieting laughter.

“Are you drunk?”

You’re not, but that doesn’t stop you from gasping, overdramatic and with your unopened bottle of soju held aloft. A modern day olive branch. “No?”

Jungkook snorts and then all at once, he’s close. Too close - smelling of beer and your favourite cologne of his, citrusy and woodsy and every other nice thing you like. It fills your senses just as his smile does, blindingly bright and bunny-like. Even behind the mask, his good looks take your breath away. You must be staring up at him idiotically, all one hundred and sixteen pounds of ooey gooey tenderness. “You sound drunk, angel,” he teases, warm red-covered palm coming to cradle your cheek. It sears heat everywhere it touches, guiding the same hue over your skin. It creeps up your chest and over your ears, standing in contrast to the material of his gloves. “Pretty.”

(He really is, you think.)

“Get a room,” comes Jimin from beside you. There’s no malice in his voice - just soft affection for a couple of lovesick idiots.

“That’s the plan,” Jungkook replies, as if he’d been waiting for the moment. It skips off his tongue and settles into your ears, tipping your head curiously as you stare at him. He’s never been very shy about wanting you - at least, not since you’d made things official, so many months ago - but you’re surprised by the insinuation. When he speaks again, you realise your brain has been rolling around in the gutter, fallen out of your ears like candy from a worn pillow case. “Want to head home?”

You do. You really, really do.

When you stumble into your apartment - the same one with the polka-dot welcome rug and crisp white paint - you realise you were perhaps wrong about how drunk you are. Everything’s coming at you quite quickly, the ground beneath your feet somehow suddenly rushing at you like Mach Five.

“Whoa—” There’s an impossibly solid warmth against your back, fingers locked around your wrists that feel more like flimsy chicken feet. “Careful.”

Your boyfriend’s keeping you upright while stepping out of his boots - impossibly expensive supple dark leather - and you’re giggling all the while, practically sinking against him as he does his best to shuffle his shoes away and get you further into the hallway. “Sorry,” you offer in a terrible stage whisper, smiling wide when you catch sight of his, small and endlessly amused. It slips across his face even as he tries to bite it back, warring with the patience he holds in spades.

“Let’s just get these off.” He means the boots - the intricate, vaguely absurd things that creep up almost the entirety of your leg, neatly wrapped and knotted midway up your thigh. Dexterous as he is, it’s a task to unravel the strings and thread buttons when you’re weighing on him like a bag of bricks.

You’re fumbling for the tops, haphazardly smacking his hands away. “Here, let me.”

Somehow, you manage to get them off in what feels like record time. (In reality, it takes a good five minutes of futility before they’re left on the ground and Jungkook’s swept you into his arms, seemingly over waiting for you to do much else.)

“Oh, my prince charming,” you tease, clinging to him like a koala. You’re locked around him, practically suffocating him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s used to it when you’re this way, just a little too much liquid courage turning your level of affection to eleven. “Or are you the court jester? That’s what Joker is, right?” It’s a joke and a bad one at that. Still, your boyfriend indulges you, depositing a forced laugh against your shoulder as he navigates to your bedroom.

“You’re drunk.” He says it more kindly than you expect. Perhaps even more kindly than you deserve. You know he’s not exactly sober himself, his gaze verging on heavy-lidded. There’s sleepiness blending seamlessly with intoxication, softening the edge of his jaw, the narrow of his stare. It’s terribly tender, skipping your heart when you look at him dead on.

It comes without thought. You have to tell him. Your drunk brain and your puppy dog heart demand it. “I love you.”

Jungkook returns the confession with humour, eyes sparkling despite the haze of alcohol that dims them down. As always, he indulges you, giving you support in the form of his heart and his hands. (Literally, he’s still holding you even though you’ve reached your destination.) “Love you too.”

“Is it time for bed?” You’re surprisingly tired, despite the fact that you’d slept until late in the afternoon. You certainly wouldn’t mind falling face first into your mattress.

“You need a shower first.” It’s a simple statement of fact, you know that. You’ve got at least ten pounds of makeup on and your hair’s the furthest thing from soft and silky, carefully coiffed to mimic Mercy’s signature style. You still pretend like you’re just a bit offended, scowling into the face of your boyfriend even as he rolls his eyes, already somehow able to read the words written into your expression. “I meant we and no, I’m not calling you stinky.”

He’s stolen your thunder, as he so often does. You pout, as you so often do.

“Okay,” you relent, finally, moving to rest your head against his shoulder. You could get down - walk on your own two tired feet - but you’re enjoying the closeness, how warm and real he feels in comparison to the swimming surroundings. “Will you wash my hair?” You don’t really need to ask but do anyway, because you like the sound of his voice when it’s so close.

“You know I will.” Because he always does when you shower together (and it falls on a designated hair washing day - that was important).

You offer your thanks with a kiss, laid right over the jumping pulse in his neck. When Jungkook hums in acknowledgment, you feel the way the muscles constrict, his Adam’s apple jumping beneath your lips. You zero in on it with laser precision, mouthing over his throat. Somewhere above you - against the shell of your ear - he exhales a laugh, breath hot.

“We’re showering, baby.” As if that’s meant to stop you. He, more than anyone, should know how adamant you get, singularly focused on whatever’s got your attention. He’s been on the receiving end of it more than enough times, strung into playing another one, two, ten matches of Overwatch or hunting down the limited edition Funko Pops that now sit proudly on your white shelf (and behind your plants and on the ledge by the front door).

“We can shower and have fun,” you mumble into the expanse of his chest. He’s so pleasantly warm, unyielding and firm and so, so comfortable. You think you could live in the feeling of his arms. (You’re lucky you get to.) You don’t even mind the sudden cold of the counter or the space that forms between you when he sets you down, because he’s still caging you in where it matters most. “Right, JK?”

It’s a nickname you rarely use now - one that only comes out in times of desperation. You’ve never quite understood why it affects your boyfriend the way it does, stuttering the rhythmic beating of his heart, but you love it nonetheless. It makes you grin, high on power and giddy with nothing but sweetness.

He’d explained it to you once. Jay was how you’d met him, the version of himself you’d loved first. Jungkook was the side of himself he’d wanted to give you but couldn’t. JK was the in-between - the chaos and the calm. Hearing you say it brought back all the memories of year one and he liked that. You could only laugh at his sentimentality and tuck the piece of knowledge somewhere deep, to be pulled out in instances like this.

“Right, angel.” You don’t miss the colour on his cheeks - so pretty you reach your hands out to cup them, squishing them between your palms like an old grandmother testing a watermelon. You continue to hold him until he pulls your hands from his face, guiding them to the edge of the counter with gentle pressure. “Gotta get undressed to shower,” he chides, that twinkle in his eye that makes it hard to look away.

Really, how can he expect you to do anything when he’s got an entire unexplored galaxy hidden in his irises? It’s an absurd ask.

“Or I’ll help you.”

Your clothes fall away while you’re still staring up at him.

First, the gloves, peeled from your fingers with utmost care. Kisses fill the spaces between each finger, passed from knuckles to wrist, all the way up to your elbow. You squirm when his teeth graze the sensitive underside of your bicep. He stifles a snicker into the skin.

Next goes your cape and wings, hung on the door handle. His mouth warms the suddenly bare skin, pressing affection into the line of your shoulder, up over your neck. You don’t squirm this time, instead humming a noise of delight. You hardly notice when the corset goes next, undone by surprisingly nimble inked digits. There’s hardly a moment to savour the freedom - you can finally breathe - when his hands replace the cups, palms eager over your chest. He doesn’t hesitate to hold you, pinching your perked nipples with a sly grin.

“I thought we were going to shower.” The words are barely out before turning breathless, stolen by the way he easily palms your breast, dropping his face into the crook of your neck.

“We are, angel,” Jungkook teases, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, other hand moved to splay across the now-bare small of your back. It’s almost embarrassing how easily you fall into him, drawn against him like a moth to a flame. “Just need to get you warmed up first.”

“The shower’ll be warm,” you say - or think you say, anyway. It isn’t quite articulated, half your brain left somewhere at the party (or maybe caught dead centre in the coil that’s tightening in your stomach).

“Do you want me to stop?” It’s so quiet you almost miss it, too distracted by how he slips the rest of your costume off. Shorts, thong, stockings, silly witch’s hat. “Tell me if you want me to stop, baby.” Ever the gentleman, he’s patient, meeting your glazed stare with something close to concern. You almost laugh in his face then - stopping short only when you note just how serious he is, the tell-tale set of his jaw shining like a familiar beacon.

You return your hands to his face, palms cradling his chin like he might break otherwise. “I never want you to stop.”

That’s all Jungkook needs before he’s slotting himself between your legs, mirroring your motion with hands creeping up the side of your neck, fingers ascending into the roots of your hair. He holds you close and kisses you like it’s all he’s ever wanted. “I love you,” he breathes, speaks against the corner of your mouth.

You parrot the words back at him and he grins, stepping away in the next moment. He laughs when you pout, offering a kiss in apology as he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt, slipping the soft cotton off. You stop then, entranced by the revealed skin, how it shifts with each adjustment of muscle, sinew tight over his arms and shoulders. You wonder, not for the first time, how you’d managed to luck out so spectacularly.

“Start the shower.”

You hop down with the direction, slipping past him to do exactly that. You don’t miss the way he rotates, brings himself closer as you move away. The magnetism is undeniable - always has been.

“I love you,” he states, again, bare against your back as you hover by the edge of the glass door, one hand stuck past to test the slow-warming stream. He’s solid, familiar and comfortable, as he slinks his arms back around you, heat burning the shape of his hands over your ribs, the shape of your hip. You think he might mark himself there, just as neatly as the floral ink does. You wouldn’t mind.

The water is welcome, bathing the both of you in steam when you step inside. It’s an incredibly relaxing feeling, being caught between the spray and the hard body behind you. You hum a noise of pure delight, turning your face toward the one that nuzzles itself into your neck, and bring your hands to rest over his, fingers slotting between ink.

“Hair?” You’re not in a terrible rush but you like redirecting his attention (pretending to, at least) - the teasing that formed the base of your relationship presenting itself in the quiet reminder. It earns the laugh you expect, muffled into your hair, featherlight over the delicate shell of your jewelled ear.

“Patience, baby.” It’s something Jungkook tends to say a lot, whether waiting in queue in Overwatch or in bed, with you a complete mess. He repeats it easily, like he’s the poster boy for the virtue. (He isn’t.)

“What am I waiting—” The question dies, swallowed whole by the gasp he draws from you with a wandering hand. Fingers slip across your stomach, digits deftly seeking out warmth as if you weren’t already enveloped in it. It’s a touch that’s tantalisingly slow, unfairly light, but it still makes you keen when it drags over your lips. A single digit pushes past muscle - so shallow you’re not sure you’re not just imagining it - before retreating, dragging your slick back up to your clit. The moment the pad of his finger makes contact with the sensitive bundle of nerves, you almost jump. Would, if he weren’t caging you with his other arm.

You feel the cold of his teeth bared against your neck then, the throaty laugh that pulls out of his chest and deposits itself into your hair. “Patience,” he repeats, swirling his fingers over your clit, his mouth moving in tandem with the twist of his wrist. He peppers love and affection in the form of kisses, presses devotion with the edge of his teeth, soothes all your nerves with a sweep of his tongue.

“Kook,” you sigh, already well on your way to being a boneless mess. There’s tingling in your toes, fizzing in your stomach, butterflies in your chest. A whirlwind of emotion and sensation that he stirs to life effortlessly.

“Relax for me.” You do so because it’s easy, because he’s so devastatingly good to you.

The figure eights skating over your clit cease, fingers dropping further down to nestle against your cunt. He pauses there, almost experimentally flexing against the muscle that aches and clenches around nothing, eager for more. You think he’s smirking by the way his lips form with his kisses, a little lopsided and devilish. (You wish you could see him.)

A single digit enters you then, to the third knuckle as if your body was made for this, for him. (It was.) He coos against your neck when a garbled mess skips off your tongue and nearly laughs when another slips in alongside it, turning the mess into nonsense. Despite how badly you want it - need it, really - it’s a sensation that’s too much and not enough all at once, toeing the line between pleasure and pain.

It was how Jungkook loved you - recklessly, shamelessly, in no half measures. With more love than you could ever hope for, giving you things you didn’t even know how to ask for.

“Relax, angel,” comes as he begins scissoring both fingers inside you, stretching you out with an otherworldly amount of care. Even your neglected clit is given some sort of relief - anything to ease the sting of two long fingers - his thumb gliding over it with each stretch of your walls. He knows exactly where to touch you, how much pressure to apply, and you’re melting, lost in the feeling.

When he’s had enough and he curls his fingers within you, seeking out that particular spot, you’re trembling, caught off guard. Heat builds quickly with the precision of which he taps against that spot; it starts low in your back, climbing each vertebrae of your spine until you’re quivering in his arms.

“K-Kook.” It’s both a plea and a demand, nonsensical as he guides you through your orgasm, keeping you upright against him when your knees feel like they might give out.

“I’ve got you.” And he does - hook, line, and sinker. He holds you steady as the pleasure crashes over your head, keeps you anchored to the here and now and the pleasure that rolls through you like a relentless wave. It sinks beneath your skin, settles heavy into every atom, and he never lets you go. He’s got you.

When sensation returns - slowly, so slowly it feels like you’re stuck in the Twilight Zone - you only want to turn. See him, hold him, whisper sweet nothings as you kiss him silly and thank him for his service. Instead, you’re held in place, two hands firm upon your hips even as you crane your neck to look over your shoulder at him. You should recognise the look on his face. “Kook?”

“My turn.” It’s a statement more than anything, a kind heads-up as he nudges you forward. There’s that same twinkle in his eye, the only source of light around the pupil that’s blown out, otherwise engulfing the constellations he so normally offers you. It’s a black hole and one you’d gladly get lost in. “Hands on the wall, baby.”

You’d never been one for shower sex - it’s too small a space, too much happening at once, a guaranteed freak accident waiting to happen - but you can’t deny him when he asks so nicely. (It really hadn’t been that nice but you were a certified sucker for one Jeon Jungkook.)

Hands find themselves on the wall, palms flat, fingers splayed. In the same instance you wiggle your hips, there’s a ghosting touch over your spine. It trails up and down, soothes the residual heat that lingers, and then slips higher, palm gentle over your throat. His thumb rubs reassuring circles over the nape of your neck, pressing gently into the sensitive spot behind your ear. It’s distracting and you realise much needed when he sinks into you with one fluid press of his hips, filling you so full you can’t help the gasp that bounds past your lips and bounces around the glass enclosure. “Oh fuck,” he sighs, his grip on your hip tightening incrementally.

He sounds like sin and feels like heaven.

“Always so good for me.” Another thing he says, often and without prompting. It still feels just as good the umpteenth time, sparking pride deep in your chest as he pulls out and drives himself back in, staring in rapt fascination at where your bodies meet. “Always so perfect for me.”

“Because I love you,” you quip, more than a little out of breath and jostled by the way he thrusts into you, measured and with enough force to shake your legs.

“Love you too, angel.” He doesn’t need to say it back - you know, can feel it by how he holds you, drives you to brink of insanity with his cock - but he does it anyway. He always says it back, no matter what, even if he’s half-asleep or distracted. He’ll never stop saying it.

The hand on your hip falls, slinks across your hip and between your legs, and you’re pushed further forward, his feet gently kicking yours further apart. Jungkook assaults your clit then, timing each pass with each thrust. An attempted glance back has fireworks going off before your eyes, specks of pleasure lighting up your vision; it’s a technicolour lightshow, framing the way his face scrunches, brow set and jaw hard. He’s determined, focused on bringing you to another orgasm before he hits his own high. You assist him as best you can, swiveling your hips and grinding back against him even as the coil pulls impossibly tight in your stomach, barely held together by threadbare strings.

“Kook,” you whine when the tension becomes too much, hands scrabbling across the wall of the shower. The same overwhelming tingle sparks beneath your skin, entire body trembling like a leaf when the head of his cock brushes that spot inside you at just the right angle.

He doesn’t relent, rhythm turning almost punishing as he drives you over the edge, launching you headlong into your second orgasm. You’re not sure how you stay upright, near sobbing when you crash into euphoric bliss, neither his fingers nor his thrusts ceasing. It’s almost too much and yet you know how close he is, so you push back, whimper words you know he wants to hear.

“P-please, Kook. Please.” You’re reaching a hand back, desperate to interlace your fingers with his. He gives in easily, catches your hand in his own and plants it on the swell of your hip as he chases his own release with desperation. “Come for me, Kook. Fill me up.”

Jungkook does just that, balls tight as he spills himself inside you, hand at your throat so tight you’re seeing stars. Somehow - with the feeling of him grinding into you, overcome with so much sensitivity - you come for the third time, crying very real tears as the sensation washes over you. It’s weaker than your first two but unravels you all the same, seeping the energy from your limbs. You’re grateful for how well he knows you and the fact he catches you before your arms collapse, pulling you to him with gentle movements.

“I love you,” he whispers against your temple, out of breath and sweat-slick despite the water that rains down upon you.

“I love you,” you answer, pressing a kiss to the hand that still twines with yours. “But I still need you to wash my hair.” It’s cheeky and you know it so you don’t even mind when he bites into the meat of your shoulder, leaving a pretty red mark that’ll bloom for the next few days. “Ow!”

“You’re a brat.” Said even as he’s reaching for your shampoo bar, teasing it through your roots with practiced movements. He’s careful despite his scathing tone, gentle despite how he glares at you from the corner of your periphery. Each tangle is neatly undone and not a single bubble gets in your eye, much to your joy.

“I thought I was an angel.” You’re taking a page out of his book, speaking in fluent pout.

He catches your lips with his own, pushing your lathered up head beneath the steady stream when he withdraws and speaks. Suds run across your cheeks, eyes shielded only by the hand he keeps steady along your hairline. Even so mean, your boyfriend is still terribly nice. “You’re my angel - but you’re still a brat.”

You can’t argue with that.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi

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helpinghanikan · 3 years

Text

Sleeping arrangements

Avengers (and Matt Murdock x Reader)

Sum: It's late and the bed is so nice. It's time to sleep and to bring your heroes along with you. (Fluffy little snippets of sleepy time with the Avengers)

Steve Rogers:

It’s the last train home and only one thing in this world is warm. The wall of Steve Rogers your head rested against was beating softly through the jacket and shirt he wore. Keeping your arms around his center to keep any of the heat from getting away. His own arm protects around your shoulders, keeping you in and gibing his hand something to do instead.

He could’ve driven, he should’ve driven, instead he wanted to take the train. He wanted to walk around like he did years and years before, but this time with your hands intertwined.

Although far away the train has started to shake the earth. Taking you out of the almost sleeping world and back into this cold one. The change in worlds brings out a yawn and lets the cold back in. It’s been a long day. With your eyes closed and clothes heavier than they could ever be Steve was the only thing keeping you up. His chin rests on your head after a while, thumb rubbing over your shoulder as the train finally pulled to a stop.

Inside it was the same story but in a seated position. Guided into his lap and landing with a groan as it was just so much work. The practically empty strain allowed your legs to stretched straight out over the seats.

Steve could stay awake longer than most, but he was tired. He was cold and annoyed and really wished he had driven instead of taking this stupid train. He took his frustration out on squeezing you tight, holding on as if you were liable to fall right out of the seat if he let go. At least it was warmer inside the train.

Tony Stark:

Someone staying up late, not getting enough sleep, and making exhaustion their personality trait is funny for maybe week. But After days of trying to coax him to come to bed, to try something other than just giving up on sleep or even talking to a doctor it gets concerning. After weeks of these same issues, it becomes frustrating.

Everyone, from Pepper to Peter have done their fair share of lecturing. Happy has gone out of his way in helping you get the dumbass to appointments. All of which he has walked right out because, unfortunately, he was still an adult who could make his own decisions.

It’s only after using the nuclear word that he pays attention.

“Anthony,” You say just before he leaves the room.

Although speaking to his back he does stop. His shoulders have tensed under the t-shirt and he’s listening in.

There’s an audio book’s worth of things you could say about this issue. But it would all be a repeat that he’s heard before, from many different mouths. Instead, you kept it simple, not even bothering to turn on the light.

“You didn’t even try.” It comes out from a tired partner just wanting the best for him. Yet Tony walks away from the advice, again.

Thor:

Power doesn’t stop for sleep. It’s still in the air when he’s laying sideways towards the window. Because of the whole nighttime thing it’s hard to tell if clouds are actually coming in or darkening. Maybe you’re just insane but Mr. Weatherman didn’t say anything about rain tonight, right?

It was a jolt that really woke you up. Looking over your shoulder at the expanse of muscular back. Thor movements were always a bit too…loud for this world. Whether running through a fight or moving in his sleep it calls attention to everyone. He doesn’t mean to, but it does wake you up enough to see your glass is dryer as a bone.

As if reading your mind, the rain has come down. It could almost be described as torrential how hard it was all coming down. Matching the dramatics of rain, a lightning strike coming straight down into some poor tree.

This wasn’t the first time Thor had a nightmare. Asgardians just seemed to be humans 2.0, making Thor just as a victim to horror as we humans are. At the same time, he was still another worldly being, translating to giving him a few feet when waking him up.

Another strike of lightening and another tree is taken out of this world. Without the lights on that blast was your only moment of lightening. The rest of the journey made to Thor’s side of the bed was done in darkness and pounding rain. Following the outlined Asgardian until reaching his shoulder. A gentle hand on his should does nothing. A little shake and a whispered “Thor,” finally does the trick.

The two strikes of lightening outside somehow reached his eyes. For the briefest of seconds blue, cracking energy is directed right at you. Stopping just as quickly as they appeared, replaced with Thor’s regular blue eyes that blink a few times.

“What is it?” he asks.

There’s no point in telling him the truth about his nightmares and their effect. Then again, there’s no point in lying either. Instead, it’s better to distract. “It’s still super early. Back to bed.” You say instead, kissing with until he takes the hit and holds you.

Bucky Barnes:

Sleep is a luxury that isn’t worth chasing. With the pillows and sheets there were nightmares and enemies that could sense his weakness. Trying to get at least six hours and all that guarantees is waking up sweaty and a call to doc, making sure to get everything back in order before you could ever notice.

Instead, he takes walks. Maps out the city at night, the changes and differences that happened without him. He recognizes the buildings, the structures and bricks that were too strong to be a victim to time.

Most of the time he does this alone. Watching a show about nothing until you were asleep before starting his walk. But there were times you catch him, calling out to him like the neighborhood cat trying to get away. Getting on your own shoes and jacket quickly. Then enforcing the handholding during the little adventure.

It’s only when passing by something important that words are shared. “One of my buddies worked here when this place was a mechanic. Broke his leg just before the draft, I still think it was on purpose.” He’d say then never bring it up again.

These walks are always shorter than most. After two times Bucky learned when to make the loop back home with you. When your building comes back into view the handholding has gotten sweaty. The walking had slowed to a crawl and you were dragging him down by the arm. Even less talking was done after getting through the door; just landing face down onto the bed without bothering about the shoes.

These kind of walks were Bucky’ favorite.

Natasha Romanoff:

The bed was used almost exclusively for sleeping. As the couch was both comfy and expensive. And, as Nat puts it, “Should we do it with the lights off too? Under the covers like grandparents?” Although it was probably another reason to use the overpriced couch more often.

Like any good, and overworked, soldier Nat could sleep anywhere. When a mission is done, and there’s nothing to worry about, a shower and a nap is the best in the world.

“I smell nice,” She says walking into the living after the shower. Steam still behind her, hair wrapped up and a sweater purposefully bought to be several sizes too big.

She stretches and lays over you like a cat. Resting as close as possible so you, too, can smell the expensive shampoo she uses. Making sure that the body wash isn’t ignored either as that, too, was expensive.

“Might as well spend this pay on something,” She says when asked about the prices.

Although she asks what you’re up to she won’t be awake for the answer. Already teetering into sleep land when you answer.

Natasha was as athletic as she was heavy. Only sometimes managing to carry her bridal style and most of the time having to walk/guide her into the bedroom. Either letting her drop onto the bed with the same weight you had carried in, or she holds fast and takes you down with her.

Just like a cat, Natasha gets to decide cuddle time.

T’challa:

Although the mattress was new, the bed’s size was traditional, and passed on through generations of rulers. Forget California king bed, A Wakanda king bed was that and a half. Ten feet length, twelve feet tall. Combined with blankets, pillows and more it was easy to disappear into the thing. But it was also easy to get lost in it all.

In the middle of the night, in the very center of this ocean of bed, you can reach out forever. Finding pillows (both the decorative and the usable kind), smaller blankets or stuffed animals that have managed to be added. But it’s a tiresome journey, one that doesn’t seem to have an end even as you stretched to pointed toes and fingers.

It’s only after touching body heat that you can relax. Finally finding your king that turns to your touch. Making his own journey through sheets and bedding. Using you as the trail into his love. Neither of you thinking about the absolute nightmare it will be to make this bed tomorrow.

Pietro Maximoff:

For most of his life Pietro is moving. Be it running or just running his mouth, he’s not the kind of guy to sit still. Unfortunately, this also applies to sleeping.

“He’s been sleep walking since we were children,” Wanda once said. “Our father once found him crying in a puddle. He had slipped and woken up in the street. He’ll deny crying, though.”

As an adult Pietro doesn’t actively get up and walk around anymore. The man made up of strong and lean muscle still moves quite a bit. Waking up from freezing feet finding yours or because he’s sat upright in bed again. Using soft, but firm, pressure to get him to lay back down or to guide him back to his side of the bed. If you weren’t careful his arms would find you, almost dragging you back to his side of the bed.

He'd deny it in the morning. Smiling with barely open eyes as you’re still pressed against him. No matter how much you’re going to insist this was his fault he’d still mock you. Nuzzling in since you insist on cuddling so much.

Peter Parker:

There’s a time limit next when sitting next to Peter. You have ten minutes before his head finds your shoulder. If you don’t shrug or lean away he’ll stay there, slowly leaning in until he’s all settled.

Although not completely asleep he does rest. If your hands are held in those moments you could probably feel his pulse slow down as his breathing slows. Maybe his eyes manage to stay open, but his eyes do get heavy. Someone could say his name, and he’d respond, but it be from his throat. An annoyed groan directed to whoever was ruining this moment. Even if it was usually a teacher or adult.

It’s only when traveling, and you’re sitting for a while, that he completely falls asleep. Progressing past just leaning his head and adding his arms. If you allow him, putting an arm around your back and the other over your center. With your own arm over his back, he sleeps in a position that, although sweet, always left a pain in his neck. Something he’d complain about until you ask if he want’s you to rub his shoulders.

Stephen Strange:

During aura projection Stephen’s body is dead weight. No muscles or bone working with the individual trying to help them. It’s just taken over by gravity and his entire weight wants to be on the floor. Sleep does the same thing.

Short of a bucket of water to his face he won’t wake up. Part of his experience in med school was taking every bit of use sleep could give him. Which leads to sleeping fast, and sleeping hard, usually opened mouth. No snoring yet, but the moment he does there’s an open target for shutting him up.

Matt Murdock:

It’s a mixture of meditation and caffeine that he is still functioning. Too busy, much too busy, as a lawyer for the two of you to share a bed most of the time. Making any comments you have about his sleep schedule mute.

Watching him doesn’t change give any information either. Coffee in the morning, some deep breathing and self-centering in the between moments at work, and sleep ins on days off were all you could gather. Between that it’s easier to just assume he’s fine.

Just laugh at his “not like I need to rest my eyes,” jokes and move on.

Carol Danvers:

After going through every time change known to man, alien and beyond Carol has developed a very specific still. Carol Danvers, woman with the power of a star and to sleep literally anywhere at any time. Be it a cleared-out corner of some ship, an open floor that keeps her hidden from passersby or on your lap. The latter being her personal favorite.

Like a massive golden retriever, she wants to be in the middle of your lap. Close as possible with a arm holding around your shoulder and the other on her toy, or phone. A being of wiry muscle and heat keeping you pinned to the couch. Most of the time she’s out ten minutes into the movie, most of the time the remotes’ out of reach, and most of the time you gotta go pee.

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

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An Artful Revenge pt. 6 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation series.

This is the last part of this fic! Gonna work on some asks next, then start the Nessian story (see the link above for details)

~Feyre~

Men, in general, are beyond stupid.

I honestly don’t even know how the male population is still around.

I mean sure, they have their moments. Fire? Pretty cool.

Maybe I should amend my statement: Men are stupid when it comes to women.

Because if Tamlin had any common sense, he would wonder why I drag myself into his office downtown, the day after I found out who he really is.

He’d wonder how I even found his posh little office, since he sure as hell never told me about it. (Answer: Rhysand).

He’d wonder why I’m crying and having an emotional breakdown, but am still dressed in a lowcut dress with my hair done. (Answer: men are even stupider when it comes to a woman with exposed breasts).

But he doesn’t.

He sees me stumbling toward him, a mess of tears and fluffy hair, and jumps to his feet, coming to my rescue.

His arms wrap around me miraculously at the same time my legs give out, and I fall into him dramatically.

That was a little much, but what can I say? I was a theatre kid.

“Feyre,” he says calmly, stroking my hair like he didn’t insult me twenty-four hours ago. In fact, he’s acting like we didn’t even break up. “What’s wrong?”

I press my face in his shoulder, trying not to think about how wrong this feels, how wrong he smells.

Rhysand smells like citrus and the sea and something so manly it makes my knees go weak for real. Tamlin smells like dirt and bad decisions.

“You were right.” It’s something all men love to hear a woman say, even though it’s hardly ever true. “You were so right, Tamlin.”

He pulls back and runs a thumb over my cheek, swiping a tear away.

His green eyes question mine, so calm and understanding compared to yesterday’s rage. His hands are gentle as they cradle my face, and I want them off off off.

“He’s a monster,” I wail, dredging up some more tears. Knowing there needs to be more of a concrete reason for my breakdown, I make some pretty seedy shit up. “He... killed his driver! Because he took a wrong turn!”

Gods, Feyre. Really?

I can practically see Rhysand rolling his eyes. He’d see through my lies in a second.

Tamlin, however, bites the bait... more like he swallows the whole damn line.

He hugs me again, so tight my feet leave the floor, and I go limp against him, pressing all the soft parts of me against the hardness of his chest.

Don’t get me wrong, Tamlin’s attractive. Wide shoulders, surfer boy hair, tan skin, and green eyes that look like the deepest of emerald.

But he also is a fucking asshole, and everything about him irritates me.

It’s crazy, I think as his hands slip lower on my back, that yesterday he called me a whore, and now he wants to sleep with me.

Prick.

“Tamlin,” I sigh against his neck.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

I almost throw up at the little pet name, but I nod and act like he’s the greatest thing on this planet, the gods’ personal gift to all things women.

But then he kisses me, and I get tired of this little charade.

I keep my eyes open as his warm lips meet mine, wanting to see his face as the needle sinks into his skin.

His eyes fly open, and he drops me to my feet roughly, a hand pressed against his neck. It’s too late, of course.

Whatever black market shit this is, it works fast.

His legs give out, and I shove his shoulder so he lands in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk.

“Feyre,” he growls, no longer happy to see me, “What the fuck are you doing?”

I roll my eyes, because even the dumbest of men should be able to figure that out my now.

You’d think he’d pass out or be too paralyzed to talk, but just like Rhysand promised me, the drugs have paralyzed him from the neck down but left him perfectly conscious.

I want him to see exactly what I’m doing.

Straightening my dress, I saunter over to his desk, eyes scanning the messy papers and folders for what I want.

Three rings, the exact copy of Rhysand’s, sit in a glass box, the shining titanium making them look like treasure. And they are.

But they’ve been here fucking long enough.

I try to open the box, but it’s locked, so I sigh and grab a paperweight, then smash it to bits.

“You do this, Feyre, and I’ll come after you.”

“Ooooh, scary,” I deadpan, completely writing him off in a way I know drives him crazy.

Glass flies everywhere, but I just grab the rings and put them on whatever fingers they’ll fit on.

Yet another piece of evidence men are idiots: I was wearing Rhysand’s ring when I walked in here.

A small detail, sure, but when I took that ring from him yesterday in his car, I made a vow to never take it off.

It’s a little big, resting on my thumb, but it’s perfect.

It means I’m his, and he’s mine.

“He might have Chicago, but I’ll make you’re life miserable!”

“You did that for two years,” I remind him with a smile.

Then I set the radio exactly like I’d been told to, turn back to Tamlin, punch him square in the jaw, and smile when I hear a crunch.

That wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but I was tired of his threats.

He howls in pain, and I know it makes me meaner than an adder, but I blow him a kiss and laugh as I walk out of his office.

A sleek black sedan, driven by the very much alive Rolando (I’ve officially stopped thinking of him as Beefcakes), waits for me at the curb. I swing the door open and climb in, turning to Rhysand with a grin.

I hold up my hands victory.

Rhysand smiles and laughs, relief and love and awe written across his beautiful features.

He’s so fucking handsome, I can’t hold out anymore.

Muttering an apology to Rolando for what he’s about to witness, I sling myself across the leather seat and pretty much attack Rhysand.

It might be the fact that I just drugged someone with illegal substances--my very first crime!--or maybe just how he looks when he’s happy. I don’t really care.

My hands are on his jaw, running down his chest, tangling in his hair.

He lets out a surprised laugh as I paw at him, and I use the opportunity to sweep my tongue into his mouth, holding back a moan at the taste of him.

The car stops, but I sure as hell don’t.

Until Rhysand takes me shoulders in his hands, and gently pulls away. “Adrenaline junkie,” he accuses with a smile, pressing one last kiss to my cheek.

I nod, because it’s probably true.

He gives me an amused look. “Then I can’t wait for what happens in twenty minutes.”

I stick my tongue out at him, ever the mature adult, and he smiles. Then he takes my hands, examines the rings, and takes the two that fit the worst.

He slips them on, and even though it’s a casual gesture, I almost break out into tears.

Too manly to cry like a baby, Rhysand just opens the door and walks out, taking my hand and pulling me with him.

Even though he looks calm and cool as a cucumber, I know he’s not exactly thrilled I’m here. We had our first real argument about me coming along for this part of the plan I’ve secretly begun to call Toppling Tamlin the Tool.

I won, obviously.

He warned me time and time again about what I was going to witness today, but I don’t care. His revenge is his to take, but I want to be here for him.

He’s been fighting for so long, completely alone.

And no matter how it started, I fell for him. He isn’t alone anymore, and won’t be ever again, no matter how dangerous the situation is.

Hand in hand, we stroll into Leperchaun’s Luck, the last remaining Irish stronghold in Chicago.

When I asked why he’d let it remain all this time, Rhysand smiled that cruel smile and said, “Revenge is only worth it if it’s slow and painful.”

I’d shuddered, half in horror and half in excitement.

I know it’s horrible and beyond absurd, but what he does for a living doesn’t scare me. He explained the gory details last night, and I listened. And even though I was scared, it wasn’t of him.

It was for him.

He has enemies with rap sheets longer than my arm.

The guy Rhysand blocks from buying Degas? Russian arms dealer!

But Chicago, he’d told me with a smile, is his. Someone would have to be suicidal to come after him here. So I guess I’ll just blow up his plane and never let him leave.

Sounds realistic.

I’d like to think it was my smile and charm that made him give in and let me tag along, but it was likely the fact that we aren’t in any super big dangerous.

We walk through the empty bar and to the courtyard in the back, and it’s a little amusing how quickly the six men sitting around a poker table jump to their feet and start shouting questions.

“What the fuck?” is the most popular.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Rhysand greets smoothly, ever the gentleman.

Someone behind us loads a gun, the sound making my eyes go wide.

But it’s never fired.

Because all of a sudden, red dots are on every single chest besides mine and Rhysand’s.

“Pull that trigger, McCallen, and all your friends die.”

They all look down and around at each other with huge, saucer-sized eyes.

Not one to dally, Rhysand smiles and tells the group, “I just bought this establishment. Needless to say, you’re no longer welcome. In here, or Chicago. You have six hours to leave my city.”

‘Bought’ is a bit of a strong word. He hacked into Tamlin’s bank account and bankrupted him, forcing him to sell to the highest bidder. Guess who that was.

“Or what?” one asks, feeling brave.

Another dot makes its way to his chest.

Gods, how many snipers does Rhysand have?

“Or you’ll die, and your precious little daughter Lena will be an orphan.”

The man’s jaw sets, even as his face pales.

Checking his watch with a casual gesture, Rhysand reminds, “Six hours and counting.”

Then he says, directly at the small box in the middle of the poker table, “That goes for you too, Tamlin.”

Since he didn’t want to risk coming back to Chicago, much less his last property here, Tamlin had been keeping control of his men by listening to everything that happened in this place on a private radio frequency.

Which, somehow, Rhysand knew.

He’d told me the number, and I’d turned the radio in Tamlin’s office to it before leaving. The drugs haven’t left his system and won’t until later today, meaning he’s still lying limp in that chair, listening to every word.

“Leave before I lose my patience,” Rhysand growls, and the men take the warning and haul ass out of the building.

Turning to me, he smiles and asks, “Ready, Feyre darling?”

“Ready.”

We walk out of the restaurant again, pep definitely in our steps, then get back in the car. Rolando starts driving immediately, leaving the restaurant behind us.

“Do you want to-”

“Yes,” I answer immediately, grabbing the phone from him and hitting call.

"So violent,” he murmurs with a smirk, turning in his seat to watch as the explosives he’d placed there years ago during a mandatory “city inspection” finally came into use.

The explanation I got on that one: “In case I got bored.”

Gods, he’s sexy.

The car rocks slightly as orange and blue and yellow flames race out of the building, leaving absolutely nothing behind.

Even though the violent woman in me wants to keep watching, I look at Rhysand instead.

His eyes find mine, and he smiles softly. “It’s done. It’s over.”

I nod and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, linking our hands together. We both stare down at the rings. “It’s over.”

Tamlin will run back to wherever he’s been the past seven months, and since there’s absolutely nothing for him here, he won’t come back.

Rhysand has complete control of the city again, his empire built brick by brick through hard work and rage. He’s gotten his revenge, taken everything from the man who left him with nothing.

And he got me.

“Was that enough adrenaline for you, Feyre?” he asks, hitting a button to roll up the barrier between us and Rolando.

Someone else, it seems, is an adrenaline junkie.

Smiling, I slide down on the soft leather and lift an eyebrow. “Come find out.”

~Feyre, three months later~

Somehow, I feel nauseous, excited, and doomed all at once.

I don’t even know how that’s possible, but it’s true.

I’m so nervous, I might be sick. I’m so excited, I can hardly walk. I’m so unsure of myself, I might fail.

Focusing on the one in the middle, I walk down the aisle between chairs, ignoring the people watching me and focusing on the destination.

I can feel his eyes on me, and just like the first day we met, I can hardly breathe. But I ignore the tingly feeling in my spine and focus on what I’m doing.

I walk up to the slightly lifted stage in the large auditorium and turn to my peers, smiling and feigning confidence.

I’m presenting my senior project today. And even though I’m excited and nervous and doomed, I’m proud of it.

It turned out better than I expected, honestly.

It took me forever to finish the painting aspect because I wasn’t quite satisfied until late last night.

The paint’s interrupted and surrounded by photos I’ve collected this year.

Rhysand, covered in paint. Art from both Chicago’s museum and the private collection I visit almost every day. Random bits of architecture and the night sky and shots that just work.

Up close, it’s a bit of a mess, but from a distance--particularly, the distance between me and Rhysand’s chair--it looks like three dancers, twirling and leaping under the night sky.

My professor hugged me when she saw it. So did Rhysand.

No offense to Prof. Jones, but I enjoyed his a little more.

“This is called Starlight Dancers,” I tell the room, my voice surprisingly level. I’m glad for the bright lights, because I can’t see anyone’s actual face as I continue. “It’s a rendition of Degas’s work, Dancers in Blue, which is my favorite piece. I’ve also incorporated photographs of art and people who mean a lot to me. Like a lot of pieces from the Renaissance, it’s meant to be viewed at a distance.”

I keep talking, going through the difference elements and explaining how, essentially, it’s a celebration of painting and love.

More than once, my eyes are drawn to the photographs of Rhysand, and I find myself searching for him in the crowd.

I also get a little distracted by the mass of sparkles adorning my ring finger.

We’ve been engaged for three days, eight hours, and a handful of minutes.

He proposed in the museum, right where we met. When I almost feinted at the site of the biggest diamond I’d ever seen and told him it was too much, he’d just laughed and said, “It was this or the painting behind you.”

Ridiculous, wonderful man.

I know it’s fast to get married after less than five months together, but the scary truth is that I can’t imagine life without him.

I scan the crowd again, and it might be my imagination, but I think I see a pair of violet eyes watching me.

And I could swear one winks at me.

~Rhysand~

I’m not supposed to be in here.

I’m not a professor, and I’m sure as shit not a student.

But I snuck in anyway, ignoring the millions of things I actually need to be doing, because I want to support her.

I don’t even know what she’s talking about--impressionism and romantic elements and different types of photography--but she’s so passionate and beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off her.

She has me completely wrapped around her finger, and it should probably scare me that I don’t even care.

Years and years of planning, and everything that’s happened in the past month still surprised me.

Not the part about running every last Irish bastard out of my city; that’d been set in stone.

The part about me getting engaged.

Ironically, that’s the only part that makes me smile.

Sure, I sent Tamlin running for the hills with his ragged band of leprechauns, set his stronghold on fire, and finally have peace over what happened all those years ago.

But even that pales in comparison to waking up next to the woman up on the stage.

She’s a bed hog and always puts her freezing feet on me as soon as I crawl next to her, but the way she smiles at me when she wakes up makes up for it.

Everything about her makes up for it, actually.

She’s still absolutely crazy and wonderful and I now have paint splatters on more than a few of my suits, but being loved by her is like... standing in the sun after being locked in a cave. Or some other shitty metaphor.

The fucking point is, even though getting down on one knee in a museum and asking her to share her life with me is the last thing I expected to happen, I’m glad it did.

Because being with her gives me something I’d thought I’d lost ten years ago: happiness.

________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

TAGS: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @alpha-omegas @joyceortiz13 @sapphic-beauty @meowsekai @ahappyhistorianreader @courtofjurdan @acalypsot @acourtofsjmtrash @highladyofthesith @bookwormq702 @swankii-art-teacher @lunaroseperdomo @leaf-love-life @mari-highladyof-feels @raghad-50725 @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#feysand #feysand fanfiction #feyre archeron #feyre #rhysand #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #a court of frost and starlight

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karasunovolleygays · 4 years

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UshiIwa Fic Recs

(that nobody asked for)

Hello! It’s my distinct pleasure to welcome you all to UshiIwa hell! I’ve been malingering here for years, but with new developments in canon, it looks like I am no longer stuck on Gilligan’s Island (me plus the six other sad bastards i’m stranded with).

As a long time sufferer of this ship, I would like to introduce you to some of my favorite UshiIwa stories, including a few of my own bc tag smol. :’)

Rating: G/T

I Lose Control by voices_in_my_head Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, OMC (Coach) Summary: "He looks to the bench, where Iwaizumi’s eyes dance from player to player." Words: 1,538 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: this is an interesting study of how Ushijima would deal with an injury at a crucial moment when everyone is counting on him, plus a dose of priority.

Cordially Uninvited by Karasuno Volleygays (that’s me) Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Possible Current Manga Spoilers, Established Relationship, Paparazzi Summary: Paparazzi haunting notable people has always been a problem, but Hajime and Wakatoshi opt to clear the air on their own terms. Words: 1,279 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: I thought it would be interesting to see how Ushijima would deal with celebrity and subsequently strangers poking their noses in his personal business.

Three Doors Down by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Fluff, More Fluff, pretty bara men bonding over dogs Summary: When Ushijima inherited a property that had seen better days, he found himself spending a lot of time and effort in a new part of town restoring the house to its former glory. However, he didn't expect a litter of puppies in a yard a few houses over to revive his spirit, as well.

He certainly didn't anticipate their owner stirring something to life within him, either, but that was a development he didn't need much coaxing to get used to. Words: 13,145 Chapters: 2/2 My notes: I have no excuses for how fluffy this is.

you're good, too quickly admitted by pyrality Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Coffeeshop AU, College AU, Fluff, Getting Together, Awkward Flirting Summary: Iwaizumi sits back in the chair, "Oikawa thinks I could do better."

Ushijima swallows, eyes still on his laptop screen, "And what do you think?"

"I think I'd like to go out to lunch with you sometime."

He looks up at the other boy, feeling warm at the sight of Iwaizumi's crooked, barely there smile, a challenging twinkle in his eye.

"Oh," Ushijima manages before he recomposes himself, "I'd like that.” Words: 2,731 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: UshiIwa dating to spite Oikawa is too good to turn down.

Alight by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Time Skips, Rivals to Lovers Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime can't believe his soulmate is the guy who just wiped the floor with his team, but there is no denying the fact that he is irrevocably linked to Ushijima Wakatoshi. Words: 4,504 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: If you’re interested in them getting to know each other through their failures and vulnerable moments, this is probably your jam.

Baby It's Cold Outside by RarePairGremlin Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Winter, Cuddling, light grinding, hints to smut but nothing is described, jaw kiss, Kissing, Fluff, Established Relationship Summary: The childish grin spread over his lips again as he faced them, his gaze roaming up them slowly as an idea formed. Ushijima, ever prepared, was fully dressed in thick socks a pair of blue sweats, which they had tucked into their socks like the crime against fashion they are, and a thick hoodie. He knew for a fact, since he’s stolen it enough times, that the hoodie was fuzzy and soft on the inside. Beside them lay a steaming cup of tea, the bag still steeping inside as they liked their tea strong, and the aforementioned throw lay comfortably across their lap. A perfect image of warm and cozy.

It would be a shame if someone was to disturb that now wouldn’t it? Words: 1,471 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This is exactly what it says on the tin, plus a bonus NB Ushijima!

the ghost in your room by mousecat Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Unrequited Love, Unrequited IwaOi, oikawa is a bit of a dick Summary: Hajime finds a way to get over Oikawa Words: 1,173 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: It’s an oddly pleasurable mixture of fluff and a punch in the throat.

Good Graces by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Established Relationship, Arguments, Mending Fences Summary: Hajime is pissed at Wakatoshi for something he admits he did until he finds out the real reason he did it. Then he feels like a jackass. Hopefully, his live-in boyfriend is up for a good old fashioned groveling session. Words: 2,059 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: Making your otp mad at each other is hard and it hurts, but the communication afterward is so important.

lit the very fuse by mousecat Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Getting Together, Unrequited Love, Christmas Eve, Mostly Fluff, ushiwaka is a soft boy, you can never convince me otherwise Summary: Hajime isn't sure what he and Ushijima are to each other, but he knows he's still stuck on Oikawa. Words: 2,609 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: If you like FWB to Lovers, step right up and scream into the void with me.

Once An Enemy. by BGee93 Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Getting Together, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends, Aged-Up Character(s), Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Not Beta Read, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, Volleyball, Volleyball Dorks in Love, Volleyball Dorks & Nerds, volleyball mentioned not played, Getting to Know Each Other, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Declarations Of Love, Dorks in Love, Confessions, Enemies to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Coffee Shops, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Coffee, First Dates, Awkward Dates, Aobajousai, Shiratorizawa, boyfriend sweater, Confusion, Cliche, cliches, Awkward RomanceAwkward Meetings, meme team - Freeform, Slow Build, Slow Romance, very slow burn, Sleeping Together, Sleepovers, Bonding, Forced Bonding Summary: 'It took several minutes to catch his breath again and to stop hissing through his teeth at the areas that throbbed, until they were just a dull ache. Once Iwaizumi felt he was able to move again he slid his hands up the strangers chest, ignoring the ripple and twitches his touch caused since the situation was already awkward enough without Iwaizumi appreciating the well toned muscle under his fingertips, as he pushed himself up till he was able to look at the persons face. There was more lighting on the bottom floor, as it was closer to the illuminating street lamps outside, so he was able to make out exactly who the man was within mere seconds despite the face still being quite shadowed. And the identity shocked him into stilling every joint, muscle and fiber of his being.

Oh hell no.' Words: 20,130 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This was written for me as a gift in an exchange a while back. Have I stopped screaming about it? Not bloody likely.

Rating: M

Focus (On Me) by Verbrennung Tags: Underage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ushijima is a 1st year, lots of staring, and looming, and crowding, Seijou!Ushijima, rated for ~makin' out~ Summary: Nobody had foreseen future Super Ace Ushijima Wakatoshi transferring from Shiratorizawa to Aoba Johsai for high school. Everyone's curious to know why, and as Iwaizumi discovers, some of his reasons are... unexpected.

An AU in which everything is mostly the same except Ushijima is a first year at Aoba Johsai and has a huge, looming crush on Iwaizumi. Words: 12,454 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This should probably be rated T instead, but whatever. If you ever wanted to know how much of an awkward bastard both of them are when they’re into someone, this is your jam.

Point Blank by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Future Fic, Brief (but pertinent) Mention of Homophobia, Slow Burn, Financial shenanigans, Scary Men with Guns, Minor Character Death Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime accepted a position at a company that was going places, and he knew he had a bright future ahead of him if he just kept his head down and worked hard — a future his family desperately needed him to achieve. He didn't count on an old rival working in the same building, nor Ushijima Wakatoshi's surprisingly cordial demeanor, yet he managed to make an unlikely friend and an even more unlikely roommate.

But when Iwaizumi climbed up the company ladder and into some of the more shadowy recesses of the corporate realm, he knew they would both get more than they bargained for, and the only person he knew he could trust was Ushijima. Words: 44,981 Chapters: 12/12 My notes: This was my first UshiIwa and I still think about it a lot. Imagining these guys in regular jobs is strange, but kind of endearing when you get a feel for how they live their lives after volleyball.

Rating: E

Flare by fish_wifey Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, From dislike to like, Tension, Sex Toys, Anal Sex, Dressing Room Sex, Topping from the Bottom, Orgasm Delay/Denial Summary: Ushijima's forwardness makes Iwaizumi edgy, but after they figure their shit out, it's Iwaizumi who brings Ushijima on edge. Words: 7,687 Chapters: 2/2 My notes: Enemies to lovers speed run ahoy!

Tangled Webs by Karasuno Volleygays (Restricted) Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Black Widow AU, Assassin Iwaizumi, Crime boss Ushijima, alcohol use, Drugging, dubcon elements, Angst Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime is a seasoned killer, with wit sharp enough to cut and reflexes to match. He's never missed a kill. That is, of course, until he meets his new mark — Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Can Ushijima offer Iwaizumi what he truly desires, on top of a night of heated passion that can only end one way? Words: 4,120 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This was some fucked up stuff, but sweet baby jesus it was a wild ride to write.

Unraveled by Karasuno Volleygays (Restricted) Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Bondage, Knife Play, Edging, Rough Sex, Flogging, Breathplay, Toys, Dubious Morality Summary: After his liberation from his past life, Iwaizumi adjusts to life with Ushijima. But something is missing, and Ushijima picks the strangest (and most erotic) way to give it to him. Words: 5,145 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: It’s cute that I thought the first fic in this series was fucked up. This one was clearly more so, but noragerts.

Poly/Multiship ft. UshiIwa

4 AM by ApparentlyAda Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, this is so stupid, I'm Sorry, Oikawa and Ushijima talk about dogs, Iwaizumi is Oikawa and Ushiwaka Trash #1 Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: "Ushiwaka."

"Yes?"

"What if one day you woke up as a chicken?"

"What if one day you shut the fuck up?", interrupts Hajime groggily.

(Or, simply put, the awful(ly amazing) conversations these three dorks have during sleepless nights) Words: 1,064 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: I hope you like banter and Oikawa roastage haha

Bridge the Gap by FindingSchmomo Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Polyamory, Established Relationship, Divorce, Past Child Abuse, Lawyer! Oikawa, Police officer iwaizumi, Flower Shop Owner Ushijima, child kageyama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks, Anxiety, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Meet the Family, chap 6 is the familys ongoing mission to keep kags hydrated, chap 7 is meet the parents edition, Internalized Homophobia, just a touch of it really Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru and Ushijijma Wakatoshi love each other more than anything, but sometimes that’s not enough, especially in a world that doesn’t love them back. Tiny cracks begin to widen, ever so slowly, until the gaps they leave seem insurmountable.

They find their answers with each other, and surprisingly enough, with the little boy loitering outside their window.

—-

Or, a story of disconnects and the love it takes to bridge them. Words: 121,443 Chapters: 18/18 My notes: It’s long with a lot of heavy themes, but if you look at the tags and think you can get through them, it’s so worth it.

a taste of heaven by beatboxbmo Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Polyamory, Birthday baking, Cuddles, Established Relationship, Aged-Up Character(s) Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: tooru comes home early on his birthday to see his two boyfriends asleep on the couch. they baked him a surprise. Words: 2,141 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This is exactly as warm and gooey as it sounds.

Three's A Crowd by FindingSchmomo Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Romance, Comedy, Romantic Comedy, Miscommunication, Dating, First Kiss, a mess, These Boys are a MESS, Chatlogs, Light Angst, Polyamory, OT3 Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: Iwaizumi loves Oikawa.

Oikawa loves Iwaizumi.

Neither of them will say anything.

Then, suddenly, Ushijima is there.

And things get very complicated. Words: 32,385 Chapters: 9/10 My notes: Normally I don’t put WIPs on rec lists, but this one is close to completion and it’s so, so worth it. Boys are dumb and you should appreciate them.

adolescence and all its glory by pageleaf Rating: E Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Established Relationship, Developing Relationship, Wooing, Future Fic, College/University, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Fluff, Flirting, Established Iwaoi, eventual OT3, Threesome - M/M/M, Manga Spoilers Summary: Iwaizumi was supposed to meet new people. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do, when you go to a different university from your best friend? Now that his life isn’t filled with Oikawa, he should have been making new friends, trying new things, whatever.

Instead, he shows up barely on time to his anatomy class, hears a small noise from beside him, and turns around to see Ushijima Wakatoshi. Words: 20,024 Chapters: 2/2 Relationship: UshiIwaOi My notes: Accidental rivals to lovers? Enjoy the sound of me screaming into the abyss, and the abyss screams back.

Close For Comfort by Leryline Rating: E Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, NSFW, ushioi - Freeform, really sinful but great, Angst, it has a happy ending i promise, iwaoi - Freeform, Phone Sex, Rough Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Romance, Threesome, Double Penetration, Spitroasting, Bottom Oikawa Tooru, Cheating, but look it's integral to the plot ok, ROMANC E AHGHGNJD it's so gay, turning a oneshot into a multi-chap out of spite: a novel by me, also: don't cheat on people irl my dudes it's not cool. not cool.like legit please DO NOT Summary: Oikawa Tōru has always seen his future with Iwaizumi Hajime - solely, utterly, completely. After all, Iwaizumi is his pillar, the only person he needs in the world.

...right?

[or: Ushijima Wakatoshi comes in and fucks everything up, as usual, but Oikawa has never given in easily, and neither has Iwaizumi, for that matter.] Words:61041 Chapters: 15/15 Relationship: UshiIwaOi My notes: If infidelity makes you uncomfortable, even if it has a happy ending all around, I would pass on this one. The smuts, however, are top shelf.

Privacy by plumtrees Rating: E Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, House Party, Alternate Universe - College/University, Future Fic, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Riding, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking, Partner Swapping Summary: Iwaizumi reaches for the knob by his hip, easily twisting it open and getting them both inside. They stumble in with their lips still sealed over each other’s, silent giggles passing between mouths as Oikawa hurries to flatten his hand against the door to shut it and crowd Iwaizumi against the surface, other hand winding around his waist to pull him close, keep him there—

But then an alarmed noise rips from Iwaizumi’s throat, the hand steady on his shoulder suddenly pushing him away Iwaizumi’s looking behind him, expression a mix of shock and mild horror and Oikawa follows a split second later, just in time for a moan to resonate past the muffled music being carried over from downstairs.

“Oikawa.” Ushijima greets, only the slightest tremor to his voice as Shirabu sinks down on his cock. “Tendou didn’t mention you’d be here.” English Words: 9,736 Chapters: 1/1 Relationship: UshiShiraIwaOi My notes: Good lord this is spicy. This is ‘swinging’ in its truest form.

Show Me You Own Me by preciousghouls Rating: E Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Threesome - M/M/M, Threesome, Rimming, Barebacking, BDSM, Daddy Kink, on oikawa's part, Dom/sub, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasms, Bottom!Iwaizumi, bottom!Oikawa, top!oikawa, top!ushijima, switch hitter oikawa, Established Relationship, Developing Relationship, i have sinned, sleeping drug in five lines, Consensual, Begging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Petplay, Collars, Cuffs, Butt Slapping, Spanking, Butt Plugs, domestic AU, Crossdressing Summary: It's Oikawa's idea, of course. But Iwaizumi finds himself loving the way Ushijima has Oikawa wrapped around his fingers, and before long they're both moaning at the hands of Ushijima.

aka the kinkiest shit I've ever written in my life. Words: 20,819 Chapters: 4/4 Relationship: UshiIwaOi My notes: Sometimes wanting to be dommed by ushiwaka is a communal mood, ya know?

Tumblr Fics

(mostly not rated/tagged; proceed with caution and at your own discretion)

Untitled by notsuchasecret

Untitled by worthlesspride (this is definitely E)

Untitled by raspberrydevil

Untitled by deathbelle

Comfortable by raspberrydevil Relationship: ushiiwaoi

Morning Kisses by raspberrydevil Relationship: ushiiwaoi

Meet My Nephew by raspberrydevil Relationship: ushiiwaoi

#ushiiwa #iwaushi #ushiiwaoi #ushijima wakatoshi #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #hq!!#hq chapter 395 #hq manga spoilers #manga spoilers #fic recs #haikyuu fic recs

154 notes · View notes

yukiwrites · 4 years

Text

The Kitsune Hamlet’s Vice-Chief

Thanks for the support as always, @breeachuu! It was super fun to write Pashmina, so I hope you like it! Watch out, ye who enters, for the sin!

Summary: Kaden was someone who was serious in his own way of repaying favors in the most varied ways. While was out, it was Pashmina, the vice-chief of the Kitsune Hamlet, who kept things in order. Though she was much more than that to Kaden; she was someone he held dear in his heart and with whom he would want to spend the rest of his life with.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

______________________________

The Kitsune Hamlet was a tiny settlement rumored to inhabit the western mountains of Hoshido -- such rumor had gained momentum especially after the end of the war between the Light and Dark Kingdoms with the marriage of King Ryoma and Princess Camilla.

It was said that the army that fought against the common enemy of the previously warring countries was composed of wolfskin and kitsune both, something that had never happened in recent -- or ancient! -- history. Nevertheless, the fact that the Kitsune Hamlet was no more than a vague mystery despite the kitsune being seen more often after the peace talks was simply because of their unique illusory abilities.

They would hide the mountain in a thick fog; create paths that did not exist or, more often than not, play pranks on the eventual adventurer who tried to go up the mountains in search of their den.

Because of that, although the chief of the kitsune, Kaden, was widely known as a social butterfly, not many humans were seen within the premises of the securely guarded hamlet.

... Though, honestly, most of that had to do with their competent vice-chief, Pashmina, who made sure to strengthen the den's illusions and scolded the foxes who had quite too much fun pranking humans instead of misguiding them back to where they came.

With their contrasting personalities, the duo managed to perfectly balance their views, opinions and protective measures to keep the hamlet hidden and safe. While Kaden built up their connections with useful humans (though mostly by accident while repaying this or that favor), Pashmina worked from the inside to assure the kitsune people a good, stable life.

The war against the Forgotten Dragon hadn't done much damage to the little settlement, since the brunt of the battles that had happened before Its defeat happened in human lands.

Still, many kitsune warriors -- the nine-tails -- joined Kamui's army alongside Pashmina and Kaden, resulting in quite a few regrettable casualties.

The hamlet was small and tight-fitted -- they all considered themselves part of a bigger family -- so it was no wonder that the entire kitsune people mourned their lost ones, resulting in all of them cooperating to aid their immediate families who were deprived of them.

"Phew." Pashmina dried the sweat off of her face with her fur bracer, looking up at the pile of materials she just helped deliver. Many fully transformed nine-tales scurried around, using their larger frames to carry big logs around. Some sprawled themselves around, allowing their humanoid companions to brush the fur they were shedding so it could be used for stuffing the new beds, cushions and even making new brushes. "You there, if you are done with the grooming, move to the next one." She pointed to a couple who was taking longer than necessary with the brushing. "We must finish this centre before the rainy season catches us."

"Y-yes, vice-chief!" The adolescent kit yelped, the brush falling from her hand right on her companion's belly.

The transformed fox, startled with the hit, let out a cry and transformed back, quickly sitting up. "I'll help too, vice-chief!"

"Good. Off you go, then." Pashmina's lips curved up slightly, dismissing them with a gesture.

The two quickly ran off with their bushed tails and eager smiles.

Foxes were naturally laid back creatures, so Pashmina's rather strict remarks were an absolute necessity to get any work done, so her work was widely appreciated.

Still with a small smile on her lips, Pashmina's dark, long and fluffy ears picked up a far-off sound of steps, turning to its source before she could turn her head to check.

"Miiinaa!" Kaden called from afar, knowing she would hear even though he was still but a tiny dot in the distance.

The vice-chief snorted as Kaden approached, sprinting towards him to help with the luggage he carried -- there was a basket larger than his shoulders over his head (which he balanced with one hand) and another one between his waist and remaining hand. From the smell, they seemed to be fresh vegetables as Pashmina noted once she was close enough to discern.

"Welcome back, Kaden," Pashmina snorted as Kaden almost lost his balance with the upper basket, quickly putting herself on her toes to take it off of his head. His ears sprung up instantly with the gesture, followed by a vigorous head shaking so as to bring back the sensation to them.

"Phew, ya really saved me there, Mina! Thanks!" He placed the lower basket on the ground with a soft thud, drying the sweat off of his forehead much like how Pashmina had done just a few minutes previous, with the back of his arm.

Still holding the basket, Pashmina brushed her dark, silvery tail on Kaden's, urging him to return with her. "C'mon, we need to take these to the storage lest they go bad."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Kaden grinned widely, shoving his hand inside the basket and retrieving two tasty-looking leeks. "A snack!"

"Oh!" Pashmina's ears and tail perked up, her pupils dilating slightly. Kaden chuckled at her reaction, but when she innocently opened her mouth so he could give it to her, he blushed slightly and hesitated. Tilting her neck towards the unmoving leek, Pashmina raised her gaze to the chief. "Kaden? My hands are kind of full..." She urged him, licked her lips and opened her mouth again.

Gulping, Kaden carefully placed the leek between Pashmina's teeth, who eagerly munched on it slowly. "A-ahem," he cleared his throat before biting his own leek and taking the basket once again, now with both of his hands. "Mowu's fjarm's beally awjome!"

Still with half a leek out of her mouth, Pashmina narrowed her eyes as they resumed the walk back to the settlement. "... Don' jpeak wid your mouf full." She reprimanded, though 80% of the intended intimidation fell flat considering she wasn't following her own advice.

Kaden snorted, holding back a laughter lest he choked. "Dook bho's talking!"

The two quickly munched the sweet, juicy leek that left a delicious aftertaste, making them both carve for more. "Hmmm," Pashmina licked her lips even a few seconds after finishing her portion. "Mozu truly is a genius when it comes to farming."

"Isn't she?! I'm glad she settled down just at the foot of the mountain! Benny's real good with the animals, too, so they don't trample on their stuff like it happens sometimes with the other folks."

"Still, isn't this a bit too much? This can probably feed our entire village for a week if we ration it, so wouldn't it last much longer with only the two of them? Won't it be an inconvenience?" Pashmina huffed, adjusting the heavy basket on her hands.

"Mina, you wouldn't believe the size of that farm! With Mozu's instructions and Benny's muscles, I think they can cover the entire foot of the mountain by the end of the decade!" Kaden's eyes shone. "Besides, she said she supplies other folks' farms, too, so she was actually glad to give us this much!" He hummed happily. "I helped her harvest it all as thanks, so she said we could go back for more later."

"Which we should," Pashmina nodded, the alluring smell of fresh vegetables making her want another snack. She refrained, of course, but she couldn't help but lick her lips again in anticipation.

Noticing her perked up ears and swaying tail behind her, Kaden pressed his lips into a thin line, a slight blush covering his face. "You want another one?" He adjusted the basket on his side, taking two more leeks with his now free hand.

Pashmina's eyes followed every movement he made with them as though under a trance, but quickly cleared her throat and turned back to watch her steps. "... No, thank you. We must prepare well for the rainy season. Besides, the little ones also love to eat these." She smiled softly, almost motherly, making Kaden's heart skip beat.

"M-Mimi!" He blurted out, taking a larger step than her so he could place himself in front. At the mention of her most intimate nickname, Pashmina's ears straightened up in surprise, her bushed tail following suit before deflating in embarrassment, her cheeks flushing slightly.

She poked the tip of her tail on his side, pouting adorably. "I told you not to call me that outside our hut."

As though infected by her embarrassment, Kaden also blushed slightly, "heeheehee, you're so cute when you're shy, Mimi. It's just the two of us here, though, right?" He looked around the deserted outskirts of the hamlet, brushing his silky, fluffy tail on hers.

Her cheeks puffed a little wider, her citrine eyes avoiding Kaden's golden. "Yes, but we're in the middle of something..." Her words contradicted her shy expression, making Kaden's heart beat faster.

"Hhhhng, you're SO cute, Mimi!" He nudged his nose on hers, then kissed her forehead and ears. "... Can I brush your fur later as thanks for helping me with the baskets?"

"...!" Pashmina let out a soundless exclamation of surprise, her entire face down to her neck reddening in embarrassment.

... Kaden never stopped touching her once he started brushing her hair and fur. The intimate brushing would always, always, always evolve to a lot more intimate and inappropriate touching. Knowing full well that that was what he meant, Pashmina's brain short circuited for a second, though the weight of his shameless yet shy gaze managed to bring her back to her senses.

"A-ahem," she cleared her throat, lifted her chin and resumed her walk. "... If you do what you have to do first, then yes." Her voice got lower and lower until the last word was a simple whisper.

But Kaden's sensitive ears picked it up, of course, and he laughed loudly. "Heeheehee, leave it to me, vice-chief! I'll show you my handsome and flawless work!" He winked and ran ahead of her, putting the basket on his head and holding it with both hands so he could move faster.

A few vegetables fell behind him, leaving a trail. "Hey, you're dropping them!" Pashmina hit her foot on the ground, but Kaden was long gone, leaving her to grumble lovingly under her breath on her own; something about placing his eagerness in more productive stuff.

As the little hamlet was building some sort of social center -- a large hut with many toys, ahem, different facilities inside -- for the families of those lost in war as well as an indoors playing ground for the children during the rainy season, there were many things to prepare.

Every single day was busy, but they were all looking out for each other, so it was fun and fulfilling.

"Huff," Pashmina was the first to retire to her and Kaden's hut, undoing her high, tight bun until her long, raven hair fell across her back. She shook her head to relieve it from the pressure of the hairdo as she looked at herself in the mirror.

Her ear twitched to the entrance as the sound of steps approached, her shoulders immediately sagging.

"Minaa, I brought a new brush!" Kaden barged in with a large grin, "and I just had to give a bit of the fur I was shedding to make another one!" He pointed to the brand new brush in his hands, walking towards his mate with intimacy of a lover.

He wrapped his free hand around her waist as he placed a kiss on the side of her head while she examined the brush on his other hand.

"It is of the finest quality, indeed. But why did you have to pay with your fur for a brush made... with your fur?" She closed one eye as he kissed her temple, his trail of kisses intent on ending on her lips. "H-hey..." She pouted slightly as he continued to smooch her cheeks, the tip of her nose, chin and all around her mouth instead of quickly diving into her lips.

"Mhmm!" Kaden hummed as though he had savored the most delicious meal, "Mimi is cute as always!" He giggled as she opened her mouth to retort, her face painted in red.

"You didn't answer-mmph!" Before she could speak, however, Kaden finally went for the kiss, sucking on her lips and inserting his eager tongue into her mouth right after. "Mhm..." She rolled her eyes with the depth of the kiss, the brush falling on the floor with a dull sound as she wrapped both hands around his shoulders.

Inebriated by how he didn't separate from the kiss and only kept deepening it, Pashmina didn't notice how they were slowly descending to the floor -- Kaden patted it to find the brush before picking her on his arms and heading to the bedroom.

"Eek!" She squealed with the sudden movement, grasping on his clothes for support as he walked the short distance towards the bed on the floor.

"So cute, so cute," Kaden chuckled as he kissed Pashmina's eyebrow, then forehead, then the base of her ears.

"H-hiya...!" Her whole body started as his hot breath reached the sensitive spot of her ears, digging her nails on his back even after he had placed her on the bed.

"It's such a shame you put your gorgeous hair up like that, Mimi," he huffed as he trailed his kisses from her ears to her forehead, then away from her slowly, intent on actually brushing her first.

Panting, Pashmina leaned on the wall as though all strength had left her limp body with the passionate kiss. Kaden's golden eyes glinted with the hidden fire of the predator inside him -- and every kitsune, for that matter -- seeing the tasty, oh so tasty, Mimi right in front of him.

He kissed the tip of her hair as he brushed it softly, looking at her with the melted golden of his eyes. "Turn around, Mimi?" He asked with a smile, though the hunger of his gaze made the vice-chief clutch her chest and huff in response.

Still short of breath, she obediently turned around, sitting loosely over her legs as she exposed her hair and tail to Kaden.

His first touch made her jump a little, but soon he took her hair around his able hands, brushing it carefully. At the tip of her long strands there was her tail, which he massaged carefully, slowly going towards its base, right a bit over her butt.

Once there, he saw how Pashmina covered her mouth with one hand, breathing heavily and squeezing her eyes -- he knew it was a sensitive spot of hers to be caressed at the base of her tail; it always made her entire body shiver and crave for his, so he absolutely loved doing it.

"Mimi, you're so cute I can't stop saying it." He whispered by her cheek, smooching it as he slid his hands under her short sleeves, grabbing her breasts.

"K-Kaden- if you touch me like this, I-" She winced as he ground his fingers on her nipples, still under her kimono, arching her head back towards him.

"Mina, Minaaa, Mimi..." He whispered her name over and over as he tasted the sweetness of her soft skin, slowly opening her kimono to reveal her underwear.

Pashmina dug her claws on Kaden's thighs, which were on either side of her body, as he slowly reached for the inside of her underwear, finding that she was already wet in expectation.

He inserted one of his declawed fingers as he called her name teasingly, making her shiver in pleasure and huff his name lovingly.

"K-aahnden..." She leaned her back on his chest, unconsciously rubbing her tail on his crotch.

"Turn around, Mimi? Lemme see your face?" He took his finger out, sliding his hand to her waist so as to turn her to him -- to turn her adorably embarrassed face to him. She blushed so brightly even a human would be able to see her in the dimly lit room. "So cute, so cute," he finally dove into her lips again, carefully pulling her underwear to the side with one hand.

Feeling the heat enter her body through Kaden's kiss, Pashmina rolled her eyes in pleasure as she felt him release his throbbing erection and rub it against her clit. "...!" She let out a cute squeal under Kaden's relentless kisses, her entire body trembling in wait for him.

She adjusted her legs on either side of his body, rubbing her vulva on his glans while he placed both hands on her hips, slightly pushing her down in his eagerness.

"Mhmmm..." Pashmina bemoaned as she felt him slide inside of her slowly, her busy tongue rolling with his inside her mouth. Once he was fully inside, Pashmina huffed, feeling him rub on her sensitive spot.

Kaden trailed his kisses from her jaw to her neck, sucking on it as he left countless marks and bites. "Mimi, Mimi..." He huffed, moving his hips up and down to rub all the way inside her.

Her mouth now free, Pashmina dug her face into Kaden's neck, her entire body bristling with pleasure. "K-Kaden, you're mhmm... teasing me again..." She cried softly, her body wanting him to move, but his simply rubbing all around inside her instead.

"I can't help, ah, it... Mimi's so cute, I just want to eat you up slowly..." He chuckled as he trailed his hands to the back of her legs, spreading them open in front of him so he could regain more control of the penetration.

Gasping, Pashmina dug her claws on his back, giving herself entirely for him -- he slowly pulled it all out, then shoved back in, enjoying how her entire body trembled with each stroke.

She could feel his entirety inside of her; the hunger of his strangled voice and the teasing of his never ending compliments, making her head spin with embarrassment and pleasure.

She could barely think straight as the fog of climax enveloped her the faster and the deeper Kaden dug into her, making Pashmina squeeze her eyes and let out the most adorable voice; Kaden's most favored voice, in her trance of the climax.

"K-Kadeahnn..." She cried out tears of pleasure, her entire body shaking as he liberated himself inside of her, though she squeezed him so much he could barely move after.

"M-Mimi, how can, hahh, someone so perfect like you exist..." He panted, filled to the brim of love towards his adorable vice-chief. Officially, however, she was the first in command of his heart, mind and body, who ruled over all of his being.

How could he not love and desire someone like her!

"I- ah..." Having difficulty breathing, Pashmina's insides still felt his lingering erection, sucking him in instinctively, "I could say the same to you..."

"M-Mimi!" Kaden felt his erection coming back at full swing, enjoying how she squirmed under him in surprise. "I love you!"

#kaden fire emblem #fatesona #kaden #fire emblem fates #fe 14 #my writings #Yuki's commissions #a sin a day keeps the thirst at bay

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writingsofmyimagination · 5 years

Text

Conjecture |7|

Yoongi x Reader

Idol Reader Au, Enemies to Lovers AU

Summary: Your management refused to renew your contract unless you collaborated, so you ending up working with Min Yoongi. A guy you’d disliked from before both of your debuts. There is more to their past than meets the eye.

Links to all other parts in my masterlist :)

Words:3293

Warnings: SMUT!! Domme ReaderxSub Yoongi. BDSM themes.Oral (F receiving). Slightly Soft Yoongi.

if you want to be tagged let me know :)

Reblog, Like, Comment pwwwweeasse :)

//For the second time that day you made Yoongi choke on his drink.

“You just look like you’ve received the filthiest message” Jin teased observing the pink flush Yoongi’s cheeks framing the grin plastered on his face.

“And who exactly would I receive those messages from?” he returned without hesitation with Jin going back to checking his own phone in defeat. Observing the proximity of the other boys around him he re-read the message taking more time to hang on to every last word before his concentration of his surroundings dropped completely off the radar and painted himself in your picture.

His chest already falling and rising in rapid tides trying to recover from practice, his skin slick with sweat hoping the next time it was at your doing. Your delicate fingertips tracing his every outline, down his side, up his thigh…Your nails marking his skin as you came around him.

Stop! He scolded himself feeling the stirring of his cock.

His pulse skyrocketed.

“Hey breaks over” Jungkook nudged him.

“Yeah, one sec” Yoongi replied typing in the only response he had.

-Fuck-.

Your message completely knocked the sincere talk he’d been rehearsing nervously in his mind straight to the back burner.//.

Your insides where a whirl of excitement they had you nauseous, the vocals were done and edited. You had the overwhelming excitement of a puppy; as an artist to get this rush without any clouding of doubt was rare and it was to be cherished in its entirety. You’d rushed round the apartment rendering it acceptable. The large open plan living area enabled you to observe your handiwork from all angles. Charlie’s toys were chucked into a box in the corner by the window next to his excessively large bed you’d thought would be a good idea even when the little guy lives curled into your legs or next to you given every opportunity; you spared a thought and wondered if Charlie would approve of Yoongi. You had the largest TV that would mount on the wall opposite the just as large 8 seater deep corner sofa that was worth every penny of the 3000 pound you’d spent on it. It still looked brand new apart from the corner seat which was blanketed with one of Charlie’s blankets; you didn’t have an issue with his fur anywhere but if it was at least localised it made cleaning slightly easier.

It was gone 10pm by the time the knock kick-started your heart at 50 miles an hour. It soon stopped dead when he walked in looking as equally comfy as he was gorgeous. The grey-blue hoody sat loosely on his frame, his phone weighing down the front pocket. A long lighter blue shirt peaked out over running the length of the hoody resting mid-thigh and longer at the back; his pale knees drawing your eye through the slits in the black skinnies accessorised with a red bandanna. His dark hair sat fluffy and slightly damp strands holding on to his forehead and shading his eyes making them all the more endearing. There was something off in his expression which sunk your heart to the bottom of your stomach.

You beckoned him with a graceful gesture, he slumped the large holdall which had been clinging at his side.

“The drive was okay?”

“Yeah, the hour flew by” he responded

“Because you had something good at the end of it I bet” you slowly encroached on his space.

“Mmhmm” he mumbled past the kiss he received, his lips weren’t quite as responsive as they had been.

“You okay?” the pang of concern hitting your chest harder than it needed to.

“Yeah, just can we talk a minute” the words that left him were hesitant, his hand rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish eyes unable to settle anywhere.

“Sure, go make yourself comfortable, want anything to drink?”

“No I’m good thanks” he made his way and perched on the sofa and watched you sit beside him, you tucked your legs under you and rested your palm at your temple, elbow resting on the top of the chair. He didn’t say anything, the silence stole the oxygen from the room, you decided you hated seeing him nervous or in any kind of emotional turmoil. You placed a supportive hand over his, he squeezed it and then stood and proceeded to pace in small shuttles.

“Okay so…” he began and then paused rehearsing the words in his mind for a moment. “I just have something to say before anything more happens between us, for my own sanity I need you to hear it and I don’t want to keep anything from you”

He paused again, you did nothing but wait patiently for him to continue with reassuring eyes.

“Like I really like you, and I have for years. When you stopped talking me and made it more than clear you hated me it destroyed me; there was nothing in my mind I could think of that I did and I had no idea how to fix it.”

You’d never thought until now how he’d felt after you’d so harshly cut him off, and now you did and it hurt, it hit you like a steam powered engine.

“I’d never stopped thinking about or wishing you all the success in the world that you truly deserve. When you finally agreed to collaborate I was ecstatic, I didn’t care that you’d be difficult or awkward I was just happy to get to see you up close again.” The words were rushing out almost in a babble.

“I can’t even begin to explain the relief when we realised it was a horrible misunderstanding, things became so much more natural between us again. I guess I just wanted to say how I felt before anything else happened because I can’t really do casual, I need real connections and the thought of sharing you with Wonho or anyone else destroys me. I guess I just wanted to know where you stood or if you feel…” You crashed your lips to his, eyes scrunched and weeping tears at their sides.

“I’m soo sorry I put you through all that, I had no idea. I was such an assuming jerk.” His eyes has glazed over as he willed no tears to fall. His hands were holding yours at your sides, you never wanted him to let them go, they felt so warm and perfect, interlocking fingers to their rightful place. “I’ve always liked you too” you admitted.

He eyes narrowed a sarcastic ‘really’ look.

“Okay, obviously before I hated you like a dick for years” you corrected. The pair of you sat bleary eyed gazing at each other with such focus. “Remember that night of your accident?” you asked, he replied with a small nod.

“You fought me hard on not telling your parents or anyone remotely to do with BigHit. I saw a guy who was literally willing to hide a serious shoulder injury out of fear of not being able to carry on being a trainee. For one that was incredibly stupid, but two the passion I empathised with and I saw myself in that. I wouldn’t have stayed with you the whole night at the hospital if I wasn’t fond of you and even then you were more worried about what my mum would say. From then I saw nothing but this sweet and passionate guy what wouldn’t I like about that?”

“Your mum is terrifying!” Yoongi added, his cheeks were flushed an adorable pink colour.

“You say that, she has a right soft spot for you. She calmed right down after I told her what guy I was out all night with. I’ve always wondered how you managed to get on that woman’s good side.”

“Remember your dads face” Yoongi chuckled, his laugh was infectious and you became symptomatic immediately.

“Yeah, he didn’t believe me for one second until he saw us at the hospital”

“Well you’re his little girl. What dad wouldn’t be a bit defensive at their 18 year old staying with a boy all night?”

Yoongi was right of course.

“Yeah I know, anyway back to now, of course if we’re going to do ‘us’ properly of course I wouldn’t see Wonho in that way anymore, I told you we’re just friends. I’d be yours and yours only”

A content peacefulness overtook his aura, the sweet smile that ached to be kissed. You were powerless and kissed him softly saving him from having to talk anymore about his feelings.

“Shouldn’t you be super smiley right now?” you asked perplexed as his expression had grown thoughtful and pensive.

“Sorry, just thinking of all the time we’ve missed out on, we could’ve been together all this time”

“Well I can tell you we haven’t missed anything” his gaze puzzled.

“I had a no dating clause for 2 years when I first signed and at 18 it should've bothered me but after what happened there was no way I wanted anything to do with guys” He didn’t seem to surprised at this revelation.

“Come on, come and see what I’ve worked on today! I’m sooo happy with it. Just our duet to record now.” You beamed switching back to non-serious mode and dragged him into the studio.

“It’s incredible, I love it so glad you put the vocals in from the other day” you shot him a look feeling defensive of his tone.

“But?” you asked, you were in the chair dials and knobs at your fingertips, Yoongi was leaning over your right shoulder a headphone to his ear. You tried not to get too lost in the scent of soap and just him radiating of his body; it enveloped you in cotton wool and you wanted it to be home. He leaned closer to you turning a few of the dials and clicking away with the mouse.

“Here” he handed you the headphones back and you slipped them on and listened to the edited section. It was even more incredible than before.

“Okay, okay you’re a genius. Now it’s done”

“Now it’s done” he affirmed. You wasn’t sure if it was the way his eyes swamped over with a playful, needy sparkle or the way he bit his lip under a smile but you were done, he was yours. His mind must have had the same thought process driving his actions when he yanked you out of the chair and pulled you flush against his chest, his hands finding their way underneath your tank top to knead at your chest. Blood rushed southwards as the air around you became saturated with hot and heavy breaths.

You grappled at the hem of his shirt until he let you pull it over his head exposing the opalescent skin of his own chest which felt like heaven underneath the trail of your fingertips.

“Wait…wait” you breathed “not here” you directed as much as it pained you to break up the atmosphere.

You pushed him on to the bed and straddled his waist, pulling the back of his hair exposing his neck for you to mark lightly, his quiet moans conducted the grinding of your hips into his groin. You stripped off your shirt and unhooked your bra and disposed of them somewhere on the floor. Yoongi’s head turned side to side trying to take in the surroundings, you redirected his face forward to yours.

“Let’s play a game” you pulled the bandanna from his belt loop and blocked him from seeing your grin grow anymore wicked. You stroked under his chin his head obediently followed the direction to your lips.

“If you want to stop at any time for any reason say ‘Red’ okay?” he nodded. You ground in to him, hard and pulled the back of his hair eliciting a groan which spoke directly to your core.

“You will also always use words when spoken to or asked a question okay?”

His grin returned “Yes, I got it. Can I call you noona please?” his words escaped as a whine. You halted your movements of unhooking his jeans and just took a moment to adore the view beneath you with an un-received warm smile.

“Look at you being all good for me already” the jeans ended on the floor in a heap. “I like my queen, I’ve never let anyone else call me that but honestly the thought of you calling me noona … so yes you can” You left him pouting on the bed as you went over to you walk in wardrobe, doors doubling as body mirrors, immediately on the left beneath your jackets and coats you went into the draw and retrieved what you needed.

“So we’re going to play a traffic light game. I’m going to give a sensation on the palm of your hand and If you like it you’re going to tell me where to put it on you, your cock is not included. If you don’t like it just say also you must keep your hands to yourself, no touching” You watched his face become the epitome of excitable anticipation.

I can’t even, when he bites his lip

“Aren’t you going to restrain me?”

“One thing at a time, besides I want to be cautious of your shoulder and I want to see how much self-control you have without the assistance of restraints” You noticed the slight sulk and exhale of air through pouted lips. You’d let the sulk go, this time.

You started with a simple kiss at his palm

“Neck”

Good choice you thought. As directed you sauntered your lips around his neck delivering heavy kisses, his chest hitched upwards as he swallowed hard. You loved how reactive he was.

“Sides” you danced the delicate feather in elegant brushes at his sides, flicking the end gently towards his hips bones.

His face creased slightly as the spikes of the pin-wheel dragged across his palm. He paused a beat, lost in thought.

“Ne..no thighs” he requested

Necks a weak point then you noted for further utilisation

Towards the apex of his thighs you increased the pressure of the wheel, you took the reaction of his fisting at the sheets as a positive one. You battled with the urge clawing at you to just take him as he was, riding him until you both stopped being able to form words.

“You look so beautiful for me, it’s hard to not just fuck you right now” you admitted. He fidgeted ever so slightly at your words. “Bet you’d like that though right?”

“Yes noona” he pleaded.

Fuck

You’d never been much for the noona thing but holy hell coming from him in the deep husky whine.

The bullet reverberated against his palm.

“Chest…please” he struggled over the last word, apparently your mouth encircling his cock took him by surprise.

“You asked so nicely”.

You rearrange yourself, at his waist again, your restraint was tested with his cock so close. It twitched when the buzzing and vibrations toyed with the skin at his chest, his hips bucked.

Your hands flooded to grip at his hands to stabilise yourself as his cock went straight to your spot. The volume of your cry amplified from surprise almost shrouding the groan tearing from Yoongi’s throat.

“Did I say you could fuck me?” you warned when you’d adjusted to him.

God he felt so good

“No, but…” he tried, while forcing himself not to move anymore even though every fibre of his being was telling him to do so.

“No buts!” you scolded testing your own will power to not move, you waited and waited. The frustration quickly built up to be unbearable, you took yourself off him, leaving you feeling empty.

“I think you can wait a bit longer for that now and I was so looking forward that, but you had to be impatient”

He squirmed beneath you “I’m sorry, please don’t make me wait I can’t…”

“You can and you will, there’s only one more round left ready?” he surrendered the fight and his body sighed sulkily.

“Yes I’m re…”

“My tongue” he managed as he gasped, his fingers guided by yours stroking at your arousal

Keeping your breathing calm, filtering the strong breaths past your lips.

“Well, I was hoping you’d say thighs but I mean that’s much better” His lips creasing at your approval. You slipped the blindfold off him and were met with famished eyes. You let him sit up

“You can use your hands now”

You were victim to a hard drawn out kiss which threatened your capacity to breathe, his hands desperate to make up for lost time glazed everywhere they could as you laid back. Your neck and chest were quick to break out in small petal blemishes; he had you twisting your fists at the sheets. The amount of times his lips ghosted past where you needed them the most creased your brows and the frustration translated into ignored whimpers and writhing for literally any contact.

“Now who doesn’t have self control” he teased looking up at you, eyes not yet content.

“Trust me if I didn’t self-control you’d be in a whole different situation right now” you replied strongly.

“Lucky for me then”

Your hand shot to grip his hair when his lips finally answered your need for contact. His arms hooked under your thighs, palms securing your hips. The way his tongue adeptly caused your undoing, dipping into your entrance in between firm circular swipes of his tongue. The aesthetic of his head between your thighs deepened every time his eyes snapped up to lock with yours, it was becoming harder and harder for your eyes to stay open, your eyes were forced closed as you neared your end.

“Come up here” you panted, he replied with a hesitant look before moving, you pulled his lips hard to yours and guided his hand desperately back to your clit.

“I just like to be close” you explained as his head nestled at your neck; the hot breath skimming your skin. His needy cock pressed at your thigh. His fingers navigating to your g-spot with blissful accuracy, palm applying pressure to your bud. Your hips took a moment to fall in sync with the movements of his finger, when they did, every muscle below your waist built tensed. Your nails locked onto his shoulder blades as you stilled under him, body convulsing whimpering his name. The heat completely engulfed you both, his lips also spilling out moans as hips jerked against you, the humidity leaving a pair of breathless bodies.

“Did you just cum without me doing anything?” you enquired with nothing but a triumphant smirk etched on your face.

“Hearing you like that just fucking did me over, sorry” he admitted rolling over slumping back into the mattress.

“Hmm well I don’t remember giving you permission but if you go and make me a drink I’ll forgive you”

He planted a kiss on your cheek

“You got it”

Your drink was gone in seconds, your body was crying out for some serious hydration.

“So what do you want?” you asked Yoongi your fingers tracing a delicate pattern across his chest.

“What do I want?”

“Yeah, you’re always entitled to some form of aftercare after you’ve subbed for me”

“Is that so?” you nodded.

“Like what?”

“Whatever you want, massage, bath, cuddles, watching tv, food”

“Can sleep be on that be on that list?”

“If that’s what you want” you laughed, internally kicking yourself for not suggesting that to the guy who happily wants to be a rock in his next life.

“Can I hold you?” he asked, smile drowsy and satisfied.

“You don’t even need to ask”.

#btssmutclub #sub-bts-network #kwritersworldnet #bts smut #networkbangtan #btsguild #kpopwonderlandtag #bangtanarmynet #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #BTS suga #suga x reader

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lululawrence · 5 years

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lululawrence’s April 2019 Fic List

Click here for previous months’ fic lists

Guess who’s back, back again... I actually wrote that when I drafted this post a month ago and I’m keeping it cause it’s funny ahhaha So this month has been a ride, hasn’t it? I’ve read some amazing fic though, so I’m super excited to talk about it with you! I read quite a few from the Shake Off the Dust collection as well as fics from the beginning of round 2 of @onedirectionbigbang and other various things as I tried and failed to keep up with all the new fic coming out haha We are so blessed to have so much amazing fic. So, without further ado, here are the fics I read and loved this month!

Hazy by @nikogda / nikogda This fic was written for me because I was anxious one day and they saw a post referring to it and they wrote this as a soothing fic for me and lemme tell ya, IT WORKED. It was so soft and... well... hazy. haha I loved it. A great fic to come back to on a rough day, for sure!

Keep Your Hands Up, So I Can See by @goodmorningtoyouuniverse / GMTYUniverse This fic was such a great HP AU! It was enemies to lovers with a touch of misunderstanding and frustrations and just all the good things with cameos by some of our favorite characters from the original series! I loved it very much a lot. It threw me into the world and made me smile quite a bit.

it's in his kiss by @disgruntledkittenface / disgruntledkittenface This is where Maggie took what she wrote through requests on ask and posted them to ao3 for the kiss meme and lemme tell ya! There’s some ships she wrote that I never felt a desire for, and she wrote them so perfectly that I almost started shipping them hahahaa Each chapter is it’s own little world and it pulled me in so entirely that they felt like full fics! How does she do that in such few words? I dunno. But they’re all glorious. Every last one. Defo a great read when things are hard too, i’d read a chapter when I had a moment and it made my busy, stressful days so much better.

Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now by @allwaswell16 / allwaswell16 I think this one was written for the short fic fest, and I loved it so so much! She describes Harry’s movements as “giraffing about” or something like that and I will never stop laughing about that. Add to it that Harry in the fic legit thought Louis was a mannequin and I just DIE. It’s amazing. Such a silly, fun fic!

Soju (소주) by @gettingaphdinmomo / gettingaphdinlarry This is a Shiall fic that just drew me in. It has such a visual and atmospheric pull to it, like all of her fics do, and it makes you almost feel as if you’re somehow there. I dunno how she does it, but her magic is worked for sure with this fic and I had to just sit there, and process when it ended. A fun, short fic to easily get lost in.

Just Go With It by @rainbowsandlovehl / rainbowslovehl (Larrymateforlife) This fic!!!! Meet Cute heaven! It was light and fluffy and awkward and silly and I loved it so much and for real this Brett character was TOO MUCH. hahahahaha With the added fun of the little jokes like talk of organic guacamole etc and I loved it so much. It was the smile I needed.

All I Want Is To Fall With You by @2tiedships2 / 2tiedships2 Mel keeps posting fics that are so fun! How does she do it? This time the crew takes on a ski trip and Louis has to deal with stupid alphas staying in the same cabin without knowing about it beforehand and of course nothing goes to plan! That’s half the fun, though, right? Besides. The alphas aren’t that bad. haha

Do You Wanna Ride by @phd-mama / phdmama She wrote this fic for @justalittlelouislove and I screamed reading it the whole time. I took so long reading it because I kept stopping to scream and share how uncomfortable I was over the obvious awkwardness and sexual tension and it was just SO SO SO GOOD. The embarrassment just gahhhhhhh I loved it.

Strawberries & Cigarettes by @dimpled-halo / dimpled_halo A year later I FINALLY read this and I loved it as much as I knew I would. I wanted pain, and it gave it to me! It gave me pain and healing and a gorgeous story. It was such a great read, I’m so so happy I finally had the time to dedicate to it because it was just. So much of everything I love.

Let It Down by @red--special / red_special This fic has also been on my to read list for ages and I am also so so happy I got to read it finally! It was such a great fic and so much fun and so sexy and funny and awkward and I wanted to bask in it a little longer. It was so so good. hahahaha I keep thinking about the tattoo and I can’t stop giggling. Just do yourself a favor and read this fic. haha

Like A Siren In The Night by @crazyupsetter / whoknows This is an a/b/o fic that I could not get enough of or read fast enough. It’s historical, though that doesn’t play a major role, and the playing with the world building was SO MUCH FUN to read. The way their relationship developed as well was just DELICIOUS. I loved every second of it.

please forgive me if my lips quake by @disgruntledkittenface / disgruntledkittenface Girl direction! With a cat! I was heart eyes the entire fic and once again, such feeling was evoked in it that I wanted to just sit and enjoy it for awhile longer. Sigh. What pure enjoyment! I loved it.

I was the King (tonight let it go) by @sadaveniren / SadaVeniren I... Okay listen. lollll I didn’t write this obviously, but it felt like such a self indulgent read I almost wished I had? If that makes sense? It was everything I love. I LOVE the emotional side and thought behind BDSM. Like, that’s most of what makes it so so so interesting and fascinating for me to read, and Sada gave that to us with this fic in DROVES as well as the fighting against natural inclinations etc etc etc. It was just a fab fic and I loved so so so much of it.

Failure to Launch by @all-these-larrythings / Rearviewdreamer Michelle has a way of taking things I don’t know about and making me love them so so so much. This film was one that many I knew loved and I felt mainly meh about it, but I knew if Michelle wrote it I would love it, and I WAS RIGHT. She took all the things I was not fond of in the original and twisted them so it still referenced the original source, but made it so much better. I loved it so so so much because it was so very much like the original film, but also very much her own.

Come Home to Me by @pocketsunshineharry / ishiplouis I wanted pain, and pain was what I got. I cried and I kept waiting and waiting for things to come together again and they finally did! But WOW the pain leading up to that! It was amazing how much was harnessed in it. I will say, please beware the tags. Some heavy topics are handled in the fic - including some depression/anxiety etc - so please be safe with that. A great read, though!

fondre ton absence by @scrunchyharry / scrunchyharry OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG I just. I’m a sucker for WWI and WWII period anything. It’s one of my favorite periods in history for the social, political, militaristic, just EVERYTHING historically. I find it fascinating and I adore it. I was both excited and wary how this would go then, knowing how much I love it. Well. I cried the entire way through and was in awe of how the time period and everything was handled. It’s an amnesia friends to lovers wartime period-typical homophobia acknowledging fic which basically means it is my dream fic. I cannot rave about it enough, much less the incredible art that was done by @whenthebodiesspeak!!! It was STUNNING and yeah. Just. Amazing. A masterpiece.

An Unbalanced Force by @kingsofeverything / FullOnLarrie MAROLD HAROLD with art by @goodmorningtoyouuniverse! I cried a few times during this one and it was such a realistic and beautiful and comprehensive view of a relationship, of adulthood, of trying to find love again after, just... all of it. It is a study of flawed individuals trying to make do and learning where their lines are and it is gorgeous. I loved it so so so much and I keep randomly thinking about it. A great fic and worth the wait and teasing she gave us over the months! hahahaha

That's What I'm Here For by @taggiecb / taggiecb ANOTHER DREAM FIC, ANOTHER FIC THAT MADE ME CRY! I cannot rave enough about how this big bang has kicked off, like, I just truly cannot. @noellehenry did a gorgeous moodboard for it as well, and I just. Demisexual farmer Louis who has been on his own for so long he just. Hardly knows how to be social anymore and Harry has to come and teach him and I’m about to give away spoilers so I’ll stop but this fic is so close to my heart, okay? I love love love love love it.

To Carry Onward by @londonfoginacup / LadyLondonderry THIS LITTLE FIC!!! I keep yelling, I know. Sorry not sorry. But for real it’s 500 words and just...so full of love and longing and mystery and hope and I cannot. I love Emmu’s words and worlds and this is no exception.

A Spell and A Spark by @dinosaursmate / dinosaursmate It’s out in the world! This fic was everything I needed when I read it. I was having a really rough time, and I would get to the end of those days and get to read this fic and it soothed me, cheered me, and took me away to another world. It was so much fun and just pure joy to read. And then the art that @londonfoginacup made for it! It was such a great combo of writing and art. Another wonderful fic for big bang!

{insert acclaimed artist} was never even in love anyway by underthesunlight This is the first of several fics I read from the Shake Off the Dust collection and it was such a fun read. It was domestic and silly and soft and it made me smile.

Primtemps by @londonfoginacup / LadyLondonderry She’s just so good, isn’t she? I finished this fic and almost immediately went back to the beginning because I wanted to read it again. It’s so soft and you could almost SMELL what she was describing. It was a perfect read of a perfect day and it made me long for the days in the past that I’d had like it. Glorious.

Taking Care of You (Is My Favorite Thing) by @allthelarrylovex / cherrylarry Niam! Not usually my pairing of choice, but I loved it so much. I also very much identified with the shitty allergies aspect of it as I am dealing with that myself at the moment, so it just had me sitting there nodding like IT REALLY DOES SUCK BABES I GET IT hahaha

You Keep Me Warm by @crinkle-eyed-boo / crinkle-eyed-boo (KimmieRocks) I’ve not read Own the Scars yet, but I still read this despite it being a time stamp, and I’m so glad I did. I loved it and it made me smile. It also made me want to read the original, so I can’t wait until I have a chance to!

Love's Gentle Spring by @laynefaire / Layne Faire (HisDarlin) This is also a continuation! It’s a fun addition to her spring drabbles from last year, which are not necessary to read in order to enjoy this, though it does add to the fun hahaha I loved that little series so much and was very very glad she made this addition!

Housewives of Our Lives by @homosociallyyours / homosociallyyours I’ve never watched any of the housewives shows, but that didn’t matter. As usual Megan wrote a fic that had me wanting to be their friend and hang out with them as they did these ridiculous things because it sounded like such fun. I loved it as well.

A Larry Limerick by @kingsofeverything / FullOnLarrie I know this was mostly silly and to be funny, but I enjoyed it so I’m including it here hahaha

sun, here it comes by @louandhazaf / YesIsAWorld and It's been a long, cold, lonely winter by @kingsofeverything / FullOnLarrie I’m putting both of them here, because if you haven’t read them yet you should. They are two sides of the same story, and I fully recommend you read them in the order I listed them too haha I did and it was wonderful and delightful and basically all things good. SO much fun.

just me, him, and the moon by HazHas4Nips This was cuuuuuuute! I don’t even know what more to say, I just keep sitting here and smiling thinking about it. So I guess if you want a fic that makes you smile, this is a great little one.

Spring Break by @allwaswell16 / allwaswell16 This fic came out of a partially true story and it was so much fun to finally be able to read what Anitra did with it haha I was giggling and loving it so so much the entire way. As usual. Can’t go wrong.

What's Mine is Yours by @uhohmorshedios / yeah_alright This fic is listed as a Narry fic, and it is, but it’s Narry friendship which made me giggle so so so much! hahaha It was so funny and the way Harry was described and Niall’s just...almost annoyance? I can’t even explain. It’s so much fun.

Latching Onto You by @reminiscingintherain / reminiscingintherain This fic is pure fluff. Fluff and silliness and all things sweet and good. I was trying to find the best way to describe it and the first thing that came to mind was it was a bowl of sweet dessert and I finally realized it’s a parfait. It’s got layers, but all of it is sweet and soft and yummy. hahaha SO if that sounds like something amazing in a fic, then you defo wanna give this a read!

Face Your Fears by @sadaveniren / SadaVeniren I’ll be honest, I finished this one around 2 am after a very long day and had to wake up too early again this morning, so I still haven’t fully computed this fic lollll Just know the pain is real, it is glorious, the journey the characters all take and the way Harry and Louis’ relationship grows is so incredible, I just... this fic is everything I’ve wanted in an a/b/o since I started reading a/b/o almost five years ago haha

And that’s my very long fic list from this month! I hope you enjoy them as much as I did if you give them a try. And please remember to leave nice comments and kudos for the authors who work so hard to gift us with these stories! Happy reading :D

#mine #fic list #my fic rec #fic rec #april 2019 fic list #28th appreciation #fic writer appreciation

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jikook-is-soft · 5 years

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JIKOOK FIC REC

I made this whole thing once before and accidentally deleted it and had to do it all over so RIP me. This time there will be less oneshots but that’s because I’ve read a fuck ton of chaptered fics this year so get ready.

ONESHOTS

The Arrangement: Jikook are roommates in the BTS dorm and often find themselves sleeping in the same bed. the problem is Jungkook keeps waking Jimin up with his morning wood. Jungkook is in denial about his gayness and Jimin is hiding his until they come up with a little plan. Jimin will help him get rid of his boners so that Kookie’s sexual frustration will go away and stop waking Jimin up in the morning simple right? This is low-key really hot but I wish it was longer.

A Knight’s Duty: Who doesn’t love a little porn with a plot am I right? Jungkook is in charge of guarding the crown prince Park Jimin, and it’s no secret that Jimin likes to get up to more than inappropriate things with the pretty knight. Read it read it read it

Thigh Highs: This one is super cute and super hot all at the same time. Jungkook comes home to find Jimin wrapped up in blankets and christmas lights. When he asks Jungkook to unwrap him he finds that Jimin is only wearing a t shirt and some thigh high socks. I swear this is some actual shit that Jikook would do, it makes me giddy.

Live in Osaka: oh boy I LIVE for this oneshot. It’s based on the iconic vlive where Tae cock blocks Jikook by coming into Jungkook’s hotel room. you know the one “Jungkookie isn’t wearing any clothes” and Jimin hiding in the bathroom, yeah that one. Anyway this fic does a good job of describing the gay chaos that was this vlive.

The Adventures of Jikook boyfriends: Okay this is precious. It’s a series of 12 oneshots in which Jikook are domestic as fuck. It’s so cute and fluffy (with the tinniest hint of smut) and definitely worth the read.

White T-shirts and Brown Timberlands: shit. yes. okay. I swear this is an emotional rollercoaster. It made me laugh and cry and smile. Jimin and Jungkook have been together for eight years and Jimin realizes that it’s finally coming to an end as he holds the divorce papers in his hands. YOU GUYS, if this doesn’t hook you right away I don’t know what will. Don’t worry it has a happy ending, but that doesn’t mean it won’t make you cry.

Okay those are the only really good oneshots that I’ve read in a while so now on to the juicy stuff, the Chaptered fics. There’s actually so many of these that I’m not sure I’ll even have time to put them all down but I’m going to try my darn best.

CHAPTERED FICS

Comfort in lies: First things first TRIGGER WARNING there is rape and non consensual activity in this fic so if that bothers you in any way this may not be the one for you. That doesn’t dominate the whole story though. It’s canon compliant and is mostly about how Jungkook and Jimin come to terms with their feelings for each other. It made me cry big time just a warning. Their relationship in this is so pure and precious and not toxic like a lot of fics. Highly recommend this one (36 chapters)

Like Fire, Like Stone: YES YES YES. This is yet another fic that made me bawl like a little child. It’s a shadow hunters AU but don’t worry you don’t need to know the show to enjoy this (I’ve never seen it and still love this fic). Jimin and Jungkook are childhood best friends that become each other’s Parabatai which is a bond made between two soldiers that connects them spiritually in order to help them in battle. The thing is parabatai are forbidden from being anything more than platonic, which is very hard for Jungkook when he starts to realize he may feel more for Jimin than he should. Please read this, it’s so good. (12 chapters)

High For This: It’s easy to grasp. Jimin is a stripper and a certain young Jungkook starts to pay for all his time. It’s here that Jungkook convinces Jimin to be his BDSM sub. This is cute and sexy and also angsty. But still good check it out (18 Chapters)

All Your Glory: Fucking yes, this is so great. Jungkook and Jimin are both from rich powerful families that also happen to be sworn enemies. The two are supposed to hate each other and they somewhat do when they aren’t fucking each other’s brains out. Fuck buddy AU meets enemies to lovers AU meets business men AU. it’s fucking good okay? Read it (11 chapters) +a second part to the series.

Whiskey: out of all the fics I’ve read in the past couple months this one stands out in my mind a lot. All I have to say is that if you read this please please listen to the music that goes with it because it’s an experience. Jimin is an omega cam boy but even with all the thirsty alphas watching him Jimin won’t ever succumb to his natural instincts, he’s independent and doesn’t need an alpha. However that changes when one of his viewers sends in his shirt and his smell sends Jimin into heat. this fucking hot and Pyscojimin has a twisted little mind that I love. (15 chapters)

crushes are the plague (and I caught your fever): Jungkook is the school bad boy and everyone knows that he has a reputation. However what people don’t know is that he’s dating the school angel and class president Park Jimin. this is so freaking cute but also really hot and I love it so much. (30 chapters)

Longing: a yearning desire: cry’s in Jikook. This is a soulmate AU in which the first words that your soulmate says to you appears on your wrist when you turn 18, unless your soulmates has already died. When Jungkook turns 18 his wrist is blank. This is really beautiful and Jimin is so soft here? I love love love this one so check it out. (11 chapters)

Cherry: AAAHHH. Good old ABO fic. This is actually the sweetest thing it gives me butterflies inside. Jimin and Jungkook are childhood neighbors and best friends. When they are young they can’t help but sent each other and nuzzle into each other’s necks even though their parents get angry and try to stop them. Jungkook likes that Jimin smells like cherries. This is so freaking good you guys. there’s fluff and smut and angst and everything nice. (25 chapters)

Where you Belong: if Daddy kink makes you uncomfortable do not read this fic. I personally find this one absolutely adorable. Jimin thinks that he may be a little and decides to sign up for a website in order to find a daddy where he meets Jungkook. (There isn’t really any age regression here it’s mostly just Jimin being fragile and soft). It’s very sweet and soft (30 chapters)

(my heart beats) for you: Oh my God this one is so freaking cute. Jungkook becomes friends with Park Jimin who gets bullied at school. He thinks Jimin is the most adorable boy he’s ever laid eyes on from the day they meet and well into their older years. This warms my heart. There’s fluff and smut here which is a perfect combo. (4 chapters)

Times Six: Okay I am SO SORRY. I know this is utter filth and completely fucking crazy but I HAD to add this fic. I don’t want to go into too many details and keep you from being surprised. Jungkook gets chosen for a super secret scientific project. As it turns out, super genius Park Jimin has succeeded in human cloning. When I say this is udder filth I really don’t say it lightly so please be cautious and good fucking luck to anyone that reads this one. (5 chapters)

Falling for you again: Okay I remember reading this but I don’t actually remember if I liked it or not. I think I might have? who knows I read too much fanfiction. Anyway Jungkook gets into a car accident that leaves him badly damaged and erases his memory, specifically the memories of his boyfriend Jimin. The tags say happy ending so I assume that this one won’t make you cry too much....(4 chapters)

Into You: I read this a long time ago but I do remember liking it. Jimin is a very famous model and Jungkook is his bodyguard, but the fans don’t have to know that they are actually much more than that. There’s fluff and there’s smut and there’s angst so what more do you want. (7 chapters)

Expiration Date: Yes yes yes, a million times yes. I’m just going to add part of the actually story summary because they can put it into words better than I can “The age old story of two people that love each other so much that they are reincarnated because their bond is stronger than death. Take that, multiply it by 20, and switch the word love with hate.” Basically Jimin and Jungkook are like the opposite of lover soulmates. They are reincarnated and in every life they find each other, but the thing is once they meet all their memories of their past lives come back and they only have three months to live before they die and have to start it all over. THIS IS SO GOOD READ IT (30 chapters)

Appetite For Stars: Okay so you’re going to read the summary for this one and go “what the fuck”, but hear me out. The first chapter is defiantly uncomfortable so let’s get that shit out of the way. The second chapter is the reason that this fic is on here and don’t worry their is no pedo shit or underage sex. The second part to this fic is something I find very interesting so don’t get turned off by the first part. I”ll let you dive into this one alone (2 chapters)

Redo: Gonna be honest don’t remember this one too well, it was pretty far back in my ao3 history. Jungkook tries to get over his ex by having a one night stand and soon finds out that that one night stand just so happens to be his new roommate. (7 chapters)

Mono no aware: Ah the old “We were married and got a divorce so I haven’t seen you in years but suddenly you show up in my life again trope”. I think you can probably guess how this one goes, I highly recommend (10 chapters)

Tastes like victory: Why are there so many fics where Jimin is like a fragile stripper? Where does that even come from? But this fic is still really good, Jungkook is an underground fighter that meets Jimin, he teaches him how to defend himself from some nasty clients. (13 chapters)

Twelve: A New Chance: This one has a very interesting concept. For every person that you fall in love with it leave a mark on your skin. Gold is the most rare meaning that person is your soulmate. Black means mutual love, you may not be destined for each other but you’ll love each other none the less, and red means unrequited love. So far Jimin has 11 red marks. (13 chapters)

Coconut Head and McThiccens: Holy SHIT. Okay this might be my favorite fic on this list. I kid you not this is one of the softest and cutest jikook fics I’ve read in my life and I can’t believe I only found it recently. Jungkook is super boring and emotionless, almost like a robot. Jimin is the asshole of the school that everyone avoids because they know that he’ll tear the shit out of them if they get too close. However, Jungkook seems to be immune to anything Jimin does no matter how hard he tries to get a reaction, it frustrates Jimin. please please please read this oh my God you won’t regret it. It’s not finished yet there are still two chapters to go, but the author is updating soon (33/35 chapters)

Alrighty I think that’s the end of this Jikook fic rec. There are more chaptered fics that I didn’t add to the list just because they weren’t special enough for me to remember/recommend. Enjoy all the jikook!

#jikook #jikook fic rec #fic rec #bts #bts fic rec #Jikook fluff #jikook smut #bts fanfiction #jikook fanfiction #here is the jikook fic rec that I promised I hope you enjoy

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wayward-pendragon · 5 years

Text

Klance Rec Part 2

Hello and welcome back to another Klance rec! Since the last rec was a success I have decided to make another one. I just wanna say a huge thank you to everyone, you were all super sweet and enthusiastic about the last list :)))). For any newcomers, I will link the first rec list here. Without further adieu, lets begin!

Roommates by manamune

Summary: (13:24) Lance: Thank you!! Love you, Keith!!!

(13:55) Keith: I’m screenshotting that for the next time you deny it.

One of very first Klance fics!! Klance become roommates and they’re hella cute. Idk what else to say that’s really it.

Would You Like Fries With That? by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee

Summary: “Hello, welcome to Burger King, can I take your order?” And that’s about when it all comes crashing down on him, and like a tidal wave of terrible, Lance realizes, on an emotional level, how truly awful his day was. For no good reason at all other than here’s a human voice – steeped in apathy perhaps, but not overtly antagonistic – and literally all he wants is a little human comfort… he starts sobbing in the Burger King drive-thru.

Keith is a junior in high school just trying to get through working the midnight shift at Burger King when Lance staggers into his life. The course of true love is a freaking disaster.

I laughed my ass off holy. I can picture this happening so vividly it was such a fun read. Plus, high school klance is fricken cute as hell so squishy and fluffy.

it had to be you by Redburn

Summary: Keith and Lance are both professors at Garrison University.

“... I remember Lisa saying it was when you ship two people together, romantically, for your own enjoyment. I’m sure…” Shiro trails off when he sees Keith’s eyes start to grow impossibly wide. “Uh, Keith?”“What the fuck?” Keith manages, his heart suddenly beating faster, his face warming up despite himself. “They ship Lance and me romantically?”

YOO. Basically all of Keith and Lance’s kids ship them and its a good time. I love oblivious Keith honestly, oblivious Keith is the best Keith.

Dorks by GriffinRose

Summary: Inspired by a post on Tumblr!

Lance is the only one listening to the current presentation, and oh boy is it something to listen to. The kid has been rambling on about aliens for ten minutes and he is trying so hard not to laugh. So hard. Turns out the kid didn't even think Lance was paying attention, so when he finds out Lance was he books it. Like, as fast it takes Lance to turn his head, that kid was gone.Keith wants to die. The Hot Guy in his bio class was actually listening to him talk about aliens. That's it. He's done. Kill him now. Poor Shiro is just trying to keep his little brother sane.

AGAIN YO. You know how I said oblivious Keith is the best? Whelp embarrassed Keith is also fuckin great. Honestly now that I’m in Uni I relate to this so hard, its really a fun read.

Hearts Don’t Break Around Here by klancekorner

Summary: Lance and Keith have been best friends since first grade. Lance’s brain is always on overdrive and Keith’s blunt, realistic ass can never keep up. They both come to realize that sometimes you can learn a lot about loving yourself by loving someone else.

So this is a longer one, its over 130K but don’t let that deter you please. This fic is so good and everything a friends to lovers klance AU should be. I cannot scream about this fic enough its like a young adult romance novel, honestly I’m shitting its so good.

Better than coffee by Anonymous

Summary: Lance can’t help but linger around a perpetually grumpy-looking employee who works at the nearby teahouse. Keith, despite all the Yelp reviews, turns out to be surprisingly kind. Lance starts coming every day—although he insists it’s only for the boba.And to complain about the customer service, of course.

Hehehehehe grumpy and soft Keith mixed with Lance being Lance. A shorter fic to last one on this list its really sweet and fluffy please enjoy.

Shut Up and Dance With Me by wittyy_name

Summary: Lance and his friends have been regulars at the Altea Dance Studio for years. Not just for classes, but to hang out, practice, and spend time with good people who love dancing. Every year, they audition to be one of the few representing Altea at the regional dance competition. Lance always auditions solo, but this year he misses out on auditions and blows his chance to participate. And so does his self-proclaimed rival, Keith. Luckily, Shiro comes up with a brilliant plan: convince Lance and Keith to audition as a duo. With a little convincing, and a lot of effort, these two might just be able to pull it off and go to regionals... or they might crash and burn.

This fic is the real deal holy crap. wittyy_name my god istg one of the best klance writers out there. The relationship built up from enemies to lovers and the sexual tension omg this fic is a masterpiece js. I cannot stress enough read anything klance by wittyy_name and you will be happy. This fic also has art!!!

CANON

All the Way Down by speaks

Summary: “You make it sound like we’re going into battle,” Hunk laughed worriedly on Lance’s other side. “I thought this was like, some kind of carnival.”A chortle bubbled of out Coran’s throat as he slapped his side in amusement. “Some kind of carnival, he says! What an understatement! Allura, I think it’s high time to show the paladins precisely how and where we’re going to be spending the next three days. After you, Princess.”A happy, childlike grin rapidly overtook Allura’s regal professionalism, and then a brilliant chink of light shone into the castle hall as she opened the front doors to the mountain they’d landed on twenty minutes ago.Lance went slack-jawed as his eyes adjusted to the white-blue light of Krossin’s distant neutron star, and he almost stumbled as he and the other paladins followed Allura and Coran out onto the grass to take in the view laid out before them. This place was a utopia.

This is a more recently written klance fic in comparison to some others on this list but oh man. Basically klance being all cute out on a date on an alien planet. The build up omg and fluffffff I was squealing.

Red is the Coldest Color by EnglishCivilWar

Summary: Keith’s startled look had quickly turned to one of annoyance. “You’re in my way,” he stated. Lance blinked uncomprehendingly. Keith let out a groan. “Lance, MOVE.”(In which Lance is an epic fail at flirting, Keith is an oblivious walnut, and the rest of the team collectively groans and sighs.)

Oblivious Keith is back kids!!

Love Bug by Cour104

Summary: While exploring an alien planet, Lance get's bit by a strange bug whose venom causes him to fall in love with the first person he sees. Of course that person had to be Keith. I've seen a lot of fics based the Love Bug AU where Keith is bitten by the bug and I thought: What if Lance is bitten?

Literally out of all of the fics I’ve read about klance and the lovebug AU this one wins. It’s almost always Keith that gets bitten but I really loved reading the story from a POV of Lance being bitten it was great.

Make Me Your Home by Reader115

Summary: “Oh my god, Keeeith,” Lance wheezed. “Keith you’re the best drunk space cadet I’ve ever seen.”“Space cadet,” Keith mumbled. He repeated the words again although his eyes had zeroed in on Lance’s hands and Lance offered no resistance when Keith picked one of them up and pulled it possessively towards his lap. He began to gently trace over Lance’s fingers, sending shivers up Lance’s arm and down his spine. “You have looong fingers,” Keith murmured after a few moments.Keith’s face perked up then, as if he’d just had a brilliant idea, and Lance could almost not wait to hear what new obscure thought had entered Keith’s pretty head. He was prepared to laugh, and instead found himself shivering again as Keith leaned far into his personal bubble, lips practically touching Lance’s ear when he spoke next.“I bet you could reach all kinds of things, Lance.”

Set in season 2. These boys crushin hard even if they don’t realize my god.

Your Love Has Shown Me Proof by freshia

Summary: “This situation is a bit more complicated than we initially realized.”Lance raises an eyebrow, but Pidge is the one to question that. “Define complicated.”Allura takes no more time beating around the bush, “Well, I received a transmission. Keith and Lance--from the future, that is--would like to have their daughter back."or: Lance and Keith deal with a walking spoiler, in the form of a little girl who just wants to get back to her own home.

Klance and a kid oh my god. Watching the teenage versions of klance deal with a child was so pure and their reaction to them being married in the future, priceless.

time out of mind by aknightley

Summary: Keith and Lance wake up married. In the future. He lays there a moment, processing the faint throbbing in his head, a strange bitter taste like lemons in his mouth. When he opens his eyes, the room spins wildly into a kaleidoscope of colors, so he closes them again, breathing in and out until he feels less like he might throw up. He suddenly registers a warm weight over his waist, and lifts his head to see a brown arm thrown over him. It looks startlingly familiar, but different, bigger than he remembers, more toned. Keith turns all the way around and comes face to face with Lance sleepily blinking his own eyes open.

Another future marriage fic. These awkward little beans omg its really cute.

Cheeky by rideahorse

Summary: Keith pinches his eyes shut, slamming the book down again and swiveling to face Lance. “Oh my god,” he groans, standing up and crossing the two feet between them before Lance can get out a word. He grabs Lance’s face between his hands (perhaps a bit rougher than needed, but hey, he’s always wanted to slap Lance’s stupid face) and the last thing he sees is an expression of pure surprise before he leans down and presses his lips against Lance's.It’s a peck, and it lasts a second, and then it’s over. Keith leans back, releasing Lance’s face, and hisses, “There.”

Cute and short fic basically just klance kissing with some feelings involved. The summary really says it all.

Well, we’ve made it to the end of this rec list. As always, please rec me fics I love getting recommendations. I loved reading all of your comments from the last list so please keep them coming, I love to hear from all of you, so feel free to message or ask a question. Hope you’re all doing well, until next time :)

#voltron #klance #klance fic #klance fic rec #vld #Voltron legendary defender #vld keith #vld lance #lance mcclain #keith kogane #shiro #Allura #Pidge #hunk #coran #vld season 8

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myriadimagines · 5 years

Text

Glorified Babysitter

The Man From U.N.C.L.E. One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Napoleon Solo

Other Characters: —

Warnings: swearing

Requester: anonymous

Request: “Hi there Sam! I love your writing so I’d like to request a Napoleon Solo x Reader one shot where the reader is a CIA agent whose sent to essentially keep an eye on him. He doesn’t trust you at first and when he confronts you about it, you’re hurt bc you genuinely had feelings for him. He realizes his error(and his feelings) and goes after you later that day and takes you on an evening walk and confesses. Super fluffy ending! Thanks lovely!”

Word Count: 1,898

A/N: oof it’s been ages since i wrote for tmfu but thank you so so much!!! i am...... not the biggest fan of the structure but i hope you like it!!!

please reblog/leave comments, they’re very much appreciated!

Your name: submit What is this?

Napoleon perks up upon hearing someone unlocking his hotel room, and he reaches for his gun on the desk as he hears the doorknob creaking open. Quickly lifting his arm as the door swings open, he lowers his gun as you step inside, hands raised above your head as you offer him a curt smile. Placing his gun down, he nods at you as he gestures for you to take a seat beside him. Clearing your throat, you outstretch your hand as you approach him, introducing, “Agent Solo, I’m-”

“Please, no need for the formalities, Napoleon is fine.” Napoleon waves his hand as you take a seat. He leans back in his chair, eyes narrowed as he smiles at you, assessing you as his gaze wanders over you. “And I know who you are, Agent y/n. You’re the glorified babysitter that I already told the CIA I don’t need.”

“Glorified babysitter? Wow, thanks.” you repeat, rolling your eyes. Leaning closer to him, you snap, “Hate to break it to you, Napoleon, but the CIA doesn’t care what you want. It’s not like I want to be here supervising you, either.”

Napoleon chuckles, clapping his hands together. “Good to know we’re on the same page about this.”

You frown, sinking deeper into your armchair as Napoleon gets to his feet, checking his gun again before tucking it into his waistband. You watch as he puts on a jacket dangling from the edge of his bed, and he smooths down the collar before flashing you a charming smile. “Well, I’m off. Why don’t you just wait here until I get back?”

“Sorry, Solo,” you get to your feet, and you can see Napoleon’s eyebrows shoot up as you approach him. A suggestive smile creeps onto his face as your hand slides down his chest towards his back before you snatch his gun from him, taking it for yourself as you shrug. Patting his shoulder, you continue, “You don’t get to be solo anymore.”

Napoleon rolls his eyes as you make your way out of the hotel room. Under his breath, he sarcastically mutters, “Haven’t heard that one before.”

—

Napoleon frowns as he watches you looking over the files and photographs he has laid out on the hotel room desk. His mission is proving to be longer than expected, and it feels even longer having you constantly looking over his shoulder at every move, listening intently to his every word as if you’re going to use it against him. It’s almost been two weeks since you had been assigned to him, two weeks of arduous torture of having you practically attached to him. He has to put up with your silent judgement, a raised eyebrow here, a quiet scoff there. He knows his every decision is being recorded by you to report back to the CIA, and Napoleon has never had to overthink so much in his entire life.

Not only does he have to be careful not to do anything that could potentially piss the CIA off, but he also has to deal with his mistrust of you.

Napoleon learned not to trust anybody from a young age. It came with the job, he supposes, as both a thief and a CIA spy. Trusting someone was a risk — it was practically an invitation for things to go wrong. Napoleon always worked alone, as he knew he was the only person he could trust.

And having a new partner who triggers almost every alarm in his head was making things complicated.

Reaching over to snatch the files off his desk and shoving them into a manila folder, Napoleon pointedly stuffs them in his briefcase which he situates by his bedside, raising an eyebrow at you as you frown at him. “Hey, I was looking over those.”

“Thank you,” Napoleon responds sarcastically. “But I don’t need your help.”

“Look, I’m not going away.” you roll your eyes. “So we might as well work together.”

Napoleon shrugs. “I don’t work with people I don’t trust.”

—

Being assigned to an agent that the CIA didn’t trust wasn’t exactly the type of fieldwork you’re interested in doing. But, as a rookie agent, you’re desperate to prove something, desperate to make an impression, so you’re willing to take any job they assigned you, including this one. You had read up on Napoleon’s files one week before flying out to meet him, getting to know every single detail of him you needed to know. His files were impressive, you had to admit, and he seemed like the perfect agent to learn a thing or two from.

When you first met Napoleon, the first thing you could think of was how his pictures truly didn’t do him justice. It took every nerve in your body not to react too noticeably when you saw him, took every ounce of power within you to stay calm and try not to appear too flustered, despite the fact that you were almost certain your fiery red cheeks gave you away.

It was easy to banter with Napoleon. His sarcasm and charm made him an easy person to hold a conversation with, and you found yourself falling for him more and more with each day. Your heart would flutter in his chest each time he smiled at you, every time he laughed at your silly jokes, and it didn’t help that you were forced to practically attach yourself to his hip. The CIA expected extensive reports from you, and you were determined not to screw it up.

And it wasn’t like you were complaining about having to spend more time with Napoleon, anyway.

However, despite your blossoming feelings, you couldn’t help but have reservations. Despite all the jokes, there were times you could see Napoleon looking at you from the corner of his eye, watching you almost as intensely as you watched him, as if he were trying to catch you doing something suspicious. He never truly opened up to you, never revealed that much to you even when you would try and pry at him every now and then, tried to have a personal conversation with him rather than a bland one about his mission.

Like now, how he grabs his papers away from you as if he’s hiding something from you, not wanting to share something with you even though you’re not the enemy. You can feel a sinking feeling in your stomach as you protest, your chest tightening as he gives you a condescending look that you can’t quite place, and his cruel words almost knock the air out of you as he casually shrugs, “I don’t work with people I don’t trust.”

You gulp, eyes stinging with tears as you struggle to maintain composure. You take a few shaky breaths, your bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. You’re being stupid, you think, letting this stupid man hurt you with his words, but they do hurt. They hurt.

“Thanks, asshole.” you spit, and Napoleon’s eyes narrow. He can see the anger, the frustration, but there’s something else in your expression that he wasn’t predicting. The pain. The type of pain that accompanies heartbreak. His eyes widen as he opens his mouth, quickly wanting to apologize, but you continue, “I just wanted to help.”

Before Napoleon can stop you, you storm out of the room, slamming the door behind you and leaving Napoleon to dwell in his mistakes. He lets out a loud groan, running his hands through his hair as paces up and down the room. Shaking his head, he grabs his coat before running after you, muttering under his breath, “Shit.”

The elevator takes forever to take him downstairs into the lobby, and he glances around the bustling room before catching sight of you exiting the front doors. He jogs after you, immediately hit with the cool evening breeze as he steps outside. You make a sharp turn onto the nearby street, heading for the river that stretches beside the hotel and through the city. Your shoulders are stiff, your steps quick, and Napoleon struggles to catch up with you as he weaves in between the tourists blocking him before he calls out, “y/n!”

He can see you pause. You hurriedly wipe away any residual tears before turning around to face him as he walks up beside you. Your expression is drawn, guarded, as you snap, “What, are you here to tell me all the reasons why you don’t trust me?”

“No.” Napoleon shoots you a look. He glances out to the river, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he remarks, “It’s a beautiful evening.”

He gestures for you to walk, and you reluctantly walk with him as the two of you stroll by the river, looking out at the glistening city lights reflected in the dark water. The waves are gentle, the sound of water lapping against the edges of the canal soothing and calm as the two of you continue to walk in silence.

“I’m sorry. I just… I have a hard time trusting people.” Napoleon finally speaks up. He presses his lips together in a flat line, unsure of how to decipher the revelation that is slowly coming to him, the revelation that perhaps his trust issues weren’t the problem — perhaps he was mistaking his feelings for you as trust issues, unsure of how else to deal with them. He had never gotten along with someone as well as he did with you, had never been able to have such easygoing conversations and you were the only person who had managed to get so many smiles out of him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You can trust me.” You look up at him. A hint of a teasing smile appears on your face, and you quietly joke, “I’m more than a glorified babysitter, you know.”

Napoleon returns your look, a soft smile appearing on his face as he chuckles. “I know that now.”

“I really like you.” you suddenly blurt, unable to hide the truth anymore, and Napoleon smiles, pleasantly surprised as you awkwardly shift your feet. “And I just- it means a lot having you trust me.”

“Despite the fact that I wasn’t very good at showing it, I really like you too.” Napoleon finally comes to terms with his feelings, and you blink at him in surprise. “Even though you called me an asshole.”

“I mean,” you mutter under your breath, but just loud enough for Napoleon to hear. “You deserved it.”

Napoleon laughs, and you can’t help but chuckle as the two of you continue to walk a bit further, your arms brushing as a smile slowly returns to your face. Napoleon can’t help but smile to himself too, seeing your anger slowly dissipate as you look out to the river, hoping to hide your growing smile from him. Napoleon suddenly notices you shivering ever so slightly, and he doesn��t hesitate to quickly whip off his coat, draping it over your shoulder as you flash him a grateful smile. Awkwardly running your hands through your hair, you point out, “We should, um, probably get back, huh? Keep working the mission?”

“Ah, the mission can wait.” Napoleon waves his hand, eyes sparkling as he leans closer to you. “I happen to know a very good restaurant nearby, and I think we ought to get dinner together.”

tag list: @melody-of-scream

#tmfu imagine #napoleon solo imagine #reader x napoleon solo #napoleon solo x reader #tmfu #tmfu one shot #napoleon solo #napoleon solo one shot #imagine #imagines #reader insert #one shot #oneshot

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anuschkalova · 6 years

Text

Till Death Do Us Part (Newt x Reader)

Requested by anon: Hey! Could you write an imagine where Newt and the reader are in the middle of the battle and one of the bad guys throws a spell at Newt but he doesn’t notice so the reader covers Newt by hugging him and whispering that she loves him (they’re in a relationship). Tina takes a hold of Newt and apparates to a safer place. Everybody thinks that reader is dead and Newt is devastated but after sometime she apparates to the apartment and it’s a happy and super fluffy reunion!:) Thank you♥️

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader

Word count: 1,757

Masterlist

It was all a mess. Bright flashes swished pass you, roaring in your ears. You gripped your wand tight to block another attack.

You looked behind your shoulder to check on your friends. Tina and Queenie did their best to defend themselves but they couldn't do this for much longer...

Newt threw a spell towards their enemies which was easily blocked. Like all the others. The wizard cursed under his breath.

A loud noise, almost like a thunder, got you attention back to your opponent. Grindelward's supporters were clearly in the majority, this battle was already lost before it even started. But you needed time to figure a way out.

"Ah!" The scream of your boyfriend made your head turn back immediately. Newt kneeled, his side was pressed against a damaged car to seek shelter.

"Newt!", you shouted, but the noises of the battlefield swallowed up your desperate calls. You were worried, even more as a spell hit the ground in front of you. The impact of it caused the street to explode and duste your view.

You coughed, waiting for a clear vision, the endless seconds fuelled your worries.

"Come on..."Then, you could finally see him again. You felt relieved.

The Hufflepuff was still leaned against the car, but he kept attacking their enemies.

"Newt!!! Watch out!!" Tina's piercing scream made you flinch and scanning your surroundings hectically when your eyes stopped mid-way. There it was: A dark figure stood out of Newt's sight, wand raised high in the air to send him the finishing stroke.

There wasn't enough time for the magizoologist to flee, instead he stumbled and fell.

Panic floated your body, the adrenalin allowed you to apparate quickly next to Newt.

His wide eyes met yours. The faint screams of the Goldstein sisters melted with the nearing droning of the powerful spell. Your arms embraced Newt's body firmly, but Newt wriggled. He tried to free himself which made you intensify your grip, whispering something into his ear.

Then you got hit.

"NO!!" Although the attack didn't harm Newt directly, your pain drenched scream did. It ripped his heart apart.The wizard held your lifeless figure tight in his arms, tear drops falling on your face as Newt bent over you.

The opponent took advantage of it and shot another spell. Tina saw it coming, so she sprinted to Newt, grabbed his coat firmly and pulled him back, apparating them to the Goldstein's apartment.

Jacob had waited there for his friends. He immediately rushed to Tina and Newt. He knew something was wrong when he saw the wizard's teary eyes.

"No, no, no, no, no, no... Take me back, I need to go back, Y/N, she needs me...", Newt stumbled over his words and feet as he tried to get up. The female Auror had trouble keeping him in place.

"Newt, no! It's too dangerous!", Tina explained, but Newt wouldn't listen. He pushed her hands away, just to fall on the ground again. His ankle was worse than he thought.

"Newt, buddy, calm down!" The baker kneeled next to him, but Newt shook his head. "No, we need to get Y/N!! She's still there! She's...-" Newt paused as Queenie appeared inside the apartment, exhaustion drawn on her usual pretty face.

She was crying, Newt could tell, her eyes were swollen and red and for a second the Hufflepuff felt as if he was looking into a mirror.

Queenie slowly shook her head, fresh tears escaping her eyes.

The salty liquor streamed down Newt's freckled cheeks and then he collapsed. He hit the wooden ground with his fists, again and again. So hard that his knuckles began to bleed, but the pain didn't numb the pain in his heart.

Newt pressed his forehead against the ground, his body shaking violently as he cried. You couldn't be dead, how should he live without you? Why? Why did you sacrifice yourself for him? Why was he so weak?

...

"You are truly amazing, Newt Scamander." The wizard turned to you and blinked in confusion.

"Pardon?" You rolled your eyes with a smile, jumping off the table you had sat on. You walked over to Newt who was working with various potions, creating some medicine for the niffler.

"You take care for all these creatures, giving them shelter, nourish them, protecting them and most importantly...", your hand found Newt's",... understanding them."

The magizoologist was lost in your eyes. Your words filled his heart with warmth and gratitude - he squeezed your hand in response.

"Well, I try my best", Newt mumbled, a sheepish smile on his lips as he continued his mixture. But you didn't step back, instead you pulled at his hand to get his attention back to you.

When his nervous eyes met yours, the long locked words escaped your lips:

"I love you, Newt."

Newt smiled sadly at the memory. It was the first time you'd confessed your feelings - here, in his shed, as he was mixing medicine. You were always so persistent and brave. The exact opposite of him, as Newt thought.

It had been three days since your death and the wizard found himself linger inside his case, confronted with heartbreaking memories.

His eyes felt sore from crying. He got so used to it that he didn't even noticed when new tears came up. They silently caressed his face and in his most desperate moments he imagined it were your gentle fingers. Sad enough, Newt found comfort in this illusion.

His blurry vision found your picture that decorated his desk, he reached for it and pressed it against his chest.

"Forgive me... please forgive me, Y/N." The pain was overwhelming, forcing Newt down on his knees. He couldn't' endure your loss, you were the first woman who had shown him true love.

The Hufflepuff looked at your picture for a while, then he pressed his trembling lips on the photo, closing his eyes. He found himself in the darkest corner of his mind, the place where he had abandoned the most hurtful memory.

Your arms embraced Newt's body firmly, but Newt wriggled. He tried to free himself which made you intensify your grip. He could feel your breath and lips against his ear.

"I love you, Newt", you whispered.

Then you got hit.

He was sobbing hard, the picture of you still pressed against his mouth as he cried. Newt hated himself, he blamed himself for your death. If you two had never met, you wouldn't have... The wizard let out a shaky breath.

His mind tried to soothe his breaking heart, so it made Newt remember another blissful memory.

Newt had his arms around your body, your delicate scent made him sigh in happiness. He buried his nose deeper to your neck, you laughed.

"Hey, I'm ticklish!"

Newt grinned against your soft skin. He peaked his lips to give you a small kiss. Now it was your turn to sigh.

You leaned back onto your boyfriend, admiring the endless stars of the night sky. You two had found a nice spot in the Mooncalves' habitat, resting on one of the hills to be closer to the stars. You couldn't believe that Newt had created such a beautiful world.

"Say, how much do you love me?", you asked into the silence and it got Newt surprised. You could hear him thinking and it made you smirk.

"More than anything in this world", he whispered truthfully near your ear, but you knew that he also loved his creatures. Maybe more than you, but you didn't blame him.

But when the wizard put his hands on top of yours you turned your face to him. "Newt?"

"I love you so much... till death do us part."

You smiled, guiding his hand to your mouth to kiss his knuckles.

"Till death do us part", you agreed.

A loud thumb above Newt pulled him back to reality. Next there were voices, all talking at the same time. Footsteps were rushing, then more voices. Newt frowned. He got up and climbed out of his case to investigate what was going on. With his wand in his hand, he carefully entered the living-room of the Goldstein's apartment and froze in place.

There you were. Surrounded by Jacob, Queenie and Tina who hugged you. Then your eyes found Newt's and it made him flinch.

"Y/N...?", he whispered, his wand slipping from his hand. You just stared into each other eyes until you started to cry. "Newt...", you sobbed and then he rushed over to you.

His strong arms embraced your body, his hand stroking your head gently. Your scent got him believe that it was really you.

"I though you were dead... Oh Merlin's beard you're alive! I love you so much, Y/N, I love you more than anything in this world...", Newt's muffled voice made you cry even more.

He pushed you back, just to cup your face with his hands, his eyebrows knitted in concern.

"Are you alright? Where were you, love?"

You chuckled. "It's a long story... But I managed to apparate here. Don't worry, I'm alright, Newt."

You promised him, but his eyes scanned your body for any injuries. He didn't find any, so the magizoologist relaxed a little.

...

After your group had celebrated your reunion with lots of giggle water and fire whisky, Newt and you had decided to spend the night inside his case.

You loved his little world and he was aware of that. So he did his best to make it comfortable and cozy for you by lighting some candles inside his shed.

The flickering flames fascinated you and it were Newt's hand who broke your trance. They squeezed your waist and his full lips ghosted over your shoulder and neck. You shuddered.

"Did you miss me?", Newt's grip intensified. "Of course I did, you have no idea, love", he confessed, voice broken at the thought of his misery. You felt bad, so your hand reached behind you to caress his cheek.

"I love you, Newt. I did it to protect you and I would do it again." The wizard turned you around and you were taken aback when Newt's lips pressed against yours.You kissed him back, letting his hands worship the curves of your body.

The kiss was gentle, but at the same time so desperate that it made you tear up. Nothing in this world could tear your love apart, that was a lifetime promise.

You would love, adore and protect each other... till death do you part.

Masterlist

#newt scamander x reader #newt x reader #eddie redmayne #eddie redmayne x reader #fantastic fanfics #fanfic #imagine #harry potter #fantastic beasts and where to find them #angst

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samingtonwilson · 6 years

Text

Dusk Till Dawn - Bucky Barnes

Summary: based on Dusk Till Dawn by ZAYN feat. Sia (watch here, listen here).

Warnings: language, a little angsty, a little fluffy, a little funny (you know how i do), metaphors involving boners (is that a real warning?). it’s honestly just super long

A/N: i love this song, i love bucky, i kinda like this super long fic. if you listen to the song, wait until zayn’s lil raaga vocalization at the VERY end of it. i love my desi king

Not tryna be indie Not tryna be cool

The pace was always slow with Bucky.

You’d understood why— you’d understood every facet of why.

It’d taken months to graduate from receiving two word replies to receiving sentences and stories, it’d taken months to move from one second smirks to lingering smiles and booming laughs. And in those slow, syrupy months, you’d found yourself trading stolen glances for knowing stares and forced conversations for comfortable silences.

In those drowsy, sluggish months, you’d found yourself longing for something more. You’d found yourself wishing he would open his door for you at 3 A.M. when his screams in the bedroom above yours shook your ceiling, you’d found yourself wishing he would let himself go a little further when he kissed you deep enough for heat to find the tips of your toes.

But, eventually, the pace became too slow with Bucky.

You’d wanted to understand why— you’d wanted to understand every facet of why.

Steve asked you to keep patience, Natasha asked you to not hold your breath, and you asked Bucky to follow you to your floor. You then asked him to kiss you, asked him to hold you, asked him to not be so afraid of what lied beneath clenched jaws, darkening slate blue eyes, metal appendages, and leather jackets he wore over cotton t-shirts even in the summer.

You thought he might be afraid of vulnerability, you thought he might be afraid of risking control— he could’ve held you a little tighter, he could’ve slammed into you a little harder, he could’ve stayed a little longer.

While Steve thought it was a matter of Bucky trusting you, Natasha thought it was a matter of Bucky slowly realizing his feelings for you, and Wanda thought it was a matter she should keep herself out of, you convinced yourself it was largely a matter of Bucky trusting himself.

You stared up at the ceiling. One of your hands sat flat against your forehead, your other hand flat atop your stomach. You shut your eyes. You breathed deeply and evenly. You opened your eyes once more. “It’s not working, Sam.”

There was a snort to your left but you didn’t bother looking at him. You could just picture the wide grin brightening his deep brown eyes and creasing the skin beside them. “We’re trying to build your patience so you need to be...” he trailed off with a smile to himself. “Well, you need to be patient.”

Your hand slid from your forehead to cover your eyes, blocking what little sunlight seeped through your curtains. You sighed loudly. “I’m tired of patience. It smells like a fucking spice cabinet in here.”

“It’s incense.”

“It’s ludicrous.”

You finally spared him a glance, propping yourself upon your elbows and nudging at his chest with your socked toes. You scowled at him when he looked up from his phone. His posture was relaxed with his back against your headboard, his lips pulled into a small smile, his head tilted— you were extremely jealous.

“If you had a boner,” you almost smiled at the sudden shift in his features, “like, a full raging salmon, a total stonker— and, for whatever reason, you were left to deal with it on your own, would lighting a few incense sticks help? Would a pink candle that smells like a burning rose bush help?”

“A stonker?” he repeated with an eyebrow raised. He looked to be struggling against laughter. “You’ve been left with a stonker?”

“An emotional stonker, baby boy,” you answered with a single nod, lying down once again. “A huge, totally emotionally engorged stonker that doesn’t go away no matter how much I jack off in the shower.”

Sam made a face. “Maybe you should consider using a different metaphor.”

“I understand why he look so long to reach this point,” you continued. “And I understand why he’s a little hesitant about all of this, about everything. But I still want to cry my fucking ass off.”

You propped yourself up again, your elbows digging into the mattress. You narrowed your eyes. “I’m betraying feminism, aren’t I?”

“Think it takes a hell of a lot more than this to betray an entire movement—”

“I’m betraying feminism and pledging allegiance to stereotype,” you continued. “I��m undoing years of progress because Bucky put his penis in me and I can’t stop thinking about it, about what it all means, about what it makes us.”

He made a move to hop off the bed. “We might need a little something more than incense and candles.”

“If you suggest yoga, I’ll tell you what Bucky looks like when he climaxes.”

“So that’s a hell fuckin’ no to yoga.”

Just tryna be in this Tell me, are you too?

You’d memorized every last detail of your ceiling by now— where the bumps were more concentrated, where the paint was faded from sunlight, where the shadows of the ceiling fan’s blades stretched and ended.

You could hear the sink running in the bathroom over the booming of your heartbeat in your ears. Your breathing had yet to even out fully, the air conditioning almost harshly cool against your sweat-slick skin.

Lying as you usually did with your head at the foot of your bed and your heels by your pillows, you held your phone above your face and narrowed your eyes at the messages to Sam you typed out only to delete moments later. When the bathroom door clicked open, you took a breath through your nose and tossed your phone aside. “I miss Sam.”

“Yeah, that’s what a guy wants to hear after some of his best work.”

You snorted, craning your neck so you could meet Bucky’s gaze— albeit upside-down. “Sam’s easy to talk to.”

“I’ve never felt that way.”

You rolled over onto your stomach, the sheet wrapped even tighter around you as a result. You propped yourself up on your elbows and smiled at him as he grabbed his shirt from where you’d tossed it. “God, you’re like my grandparents.”

“Is that a dig at my age?”

You snorted once more. “Wow, Sergeant Barnes has jokes.”

He shook his head, smiling a bit as he sat beside you. “Sergeant Barnes has a coping mechanism.”

You smiled to yourself, the brief expression faltering when he leant down to retrieve his boots. “You don’t have to leave.”

He hummed questioningly though you knew he heard you.

“You can sleep here,” you pressed, still hesitating to even attempt meeting his gaze. “Bed’s big enough, everyone’s on that mission so the compound’s practically empty except for Bruce, and I don’t snore or sleep-talk.”

A sigh that forced your teeth into your bottom lip left Bucky’s parted lips. You were glad to not be looking at him. “Doll, —”

“Sam tried incense and candles,” you interjected, clearing your throat. “But they make my allergies go haywire. Then he tried introducing me to meditation— but I can’t really clear my head. So he finally tried retail therapy and now I have a closet overflowing with things Tony paid for but no peace of mind.”

Bucky sat silently, his eyes tracing your profile. He intended to look away when your eyes found his but was unable to.

“I’m usually really good at this,” you added, looking from one of his eyes to the other. “Sleeping with people without asking them to stay, I mean. I asked Steve to include that in my file as a superpower but he said everyday powers don’t count, let alone a power so crass.”

A corner of his lips quirked up, parted with the intention to speak.

You cut him off, though. “I’m not asking to marry you. It’s just sleeping here. Sleeping’s not a big deal, I mean—”

“I haven’t said no, doll.”

Your mouth snapped shut and you offered him a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

He leant down once again, this time to remove his boots and toss them away. He then leant towards you, his back still bent so his eyes could meet yours. He wrinkled his nose. “Has anyone ever told you that you ramble?”

You let yourself lean in his direction as well, your nose brushing against his. “Only when I’m nervous.”

“Avenger and genetically enhanced world-class spy, and I make you nervous?”

“Don’t let it inflate your ego, Buck. I’m always nervous around people I like.”

He tilted his head and raised a dark eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips which were so, so close to yours. “You like other people?”

“Would it be a problem if I did? S’not like you and I are a thing.”

He sighed, narrowing his eyes before he shifted around so he was lying on his stomach beside you, propped up on his elbows the same way you were.

There was something about the gentle way in which he looked at you— eyes soft, features relaxed— that made your heartbeat stutter in your chest.

“We aren’t?”

“Well, you never sleep here.”

He bumped his shoulder against yours. “You’ve never asked.”

“So this is a thing?”

“I’d like to think it is.”

Can you feel where the wind is? Can you feel it through All of the windows Inside this room?

Bucky stared at your ceiling. He traced the city lights pouring in from your curtains, tried to figure out what part of the ceiling his bed sat above, and even resorted to counting the bumps on the plaster surface.

He couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep. He knew he’d have a dream, he knew he’d throw his limbs around in a battle with an unseen enemy, he knew he would hurt you. He couldn’t risk falling asleep.

Just like he couldn’t risk holding you too tightly, kissing you too roughly, or slamming into you too forcefully.

It could never be that he didn’t trust you enough— he thought he might trust you with every bit of humanity he had left in him— he just didn’t trust what lied beneath it all, what you worked so hard to convince him to see the beauty in. Because under that clenched jaw, those slate blue eyes, that metal arm, and the leather jackets he wore no matter the weather, he saw nothing but destruction, ruin, and harm.

He turned to face you, tracing your features with his tired eyes. He saw the beauty in you— he saw it easily. He saw beauty, and purity, and light— a light he thought might be too bright for hundred year old eyes that had shut too many times to keep splattering blood out.

There was peace spread over your skin, a softness in your parted lips. Your hair was a mess, tangled and tousled in the most angelic way. The dark grey henley you wore was loose, buttons undone so the collar slipped off one of your shoulders.

He glanced at his own shoulder then, following the jagged scars, the permanently pinkish skin, the raised imperfections where flesh met metal. He sighed and faced the ceiling again, balling his fist and letting it loose once more.

His breaths came in short puffs now, the air conditioning suddenly pinching his skin harshly.

He shook his head and shut his eyes. He tried to slow his breathing to no avail.

He pulled the covers to his chin, attempting to snuggle further into the mattress.

It took mere moments for him to grow too warm. He tore the covers away, adjusting them so he was partially covered, partially uncovered. He let the comforter sit over his shoulder and tucked it under the metal of his arm.

He was still too warm, the air conditioning suddenly inadequate.

He thought he could crack a window, crack a damn hole in the wall if he had to, if it would help him breathe even a little.

Shutting his eyes again, he took a deep breath. He felt you shift as you moved closer to him, your breath washing over his skin. There was a hitching in his chest and a rhythmic beating began. His eyes stayed closed.

But you'll never be alone I'll be with you from dusk till dawn Baby, I am right here

He wasn’t sure when sleep took him under so deeply and so all-encompassing in its nature but, the next thing he knew, the covers were on the floor and you were straddling his lap, your hands holding his wrists to the bed tightly.

Your eyes were squeezed shut, features twisted in visible struggle. Your grip tightened on his wrists, your eyes opening one by one when you noticed he’d stopped in his squirming and thrashing. You let out a breath of relief. “Buck.”

Alert and present grey-blue eyes searched yours and you thought you saw disappointment in what he read, his lips falling open once he swallowed thickly. He shut his mouth and swallowed once more.

“You’re okay,” it wasn’t a question and nothing in your voice made it seem so, your hands releasing him when he twisted his thick wrists a little. You smiled at him. “All safe.”

He thought he needed to look away, he thought even his gaze on your smile could corrupt you, could ruin you in some way. He looked at the window that he’d left shut, the thin layer of sweat over his skin sticky. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you asked with a soft snort. “Nothing to be sorry for. I was probably snoring my ass off anyway.”

His lips quirked up on one end despite himself. “You said you don’t snore.”

“I did say that— never said I don’t lie, though,” you laughed slightly, placing your hands flat upon his chest.

“I should probably leave.”

You stared down at your fingers, spreading them over his bare skin. You took a breath through encircled lips. “You don’t have to. But if you’re more comfortable in your room and—”

“It’s not about being comfortable, I just— If I fall asleep, it’ll probably happen again.”

“Then I’ll wake you up again.”

He sighed. “Doll, —”

“If you want to leave, I won’t force you to stay.” You offered him a small smile. “I just really want you to.”

“Why would you want that?”

“Room’s cold, you’re warm,” you shrugged, climbing off his lap to sit beside him. “I also really like you.”

He glanced at you. “Even after that?”

You tilted your head before you lied down. “Maybe even more after that.”

“What, are you a lot more sick and twisted than any of us realize?”

You met his gaze and laughed, twisting your fingers through your hair so the strands didn’t obstruct your vision. “All of us in this tower are more sick and twisted than anyone else realizes. S’why we’re here.”

“Touché.”

“But me liking you more isn’t an indication of that.” You sighed and propped yourself up on your elbow, body lying on your side to look at him. “Everything that just happened, everything that’s happened with you and to you— You’re still the way you are through all of it. Warm, kind, protective.”

You smiled when his eyes found yours and raised your eyebrows. “You know, when you first got here, you didn’t smile much and, when you did, it was a little broken, a little hesitant. But now, —”

Something pinched at the border of his throat and he decided he couldn’t let you finish. He let out a soft sigh of your name as he shifted so he was holding himself above you, his hand on your shoulder to push you onto your back. He leant down so his nose brushed yours and his lips were only a centimeter away— pink, plump, and so inviting.

You closed the distance before he could, your fingers combing through his dark hair as your lips moved with his. You sighed into his mouth when his metal hand slid from behind your neck to your shoulder, his thumb brushing over you in a soothing manner that still made goosebumps erupt over your skin.

He needed to be woken up one more time that night, but it took less effort then. You only needed to place your hands on his and squeeze with a few soothing words, the warmth rolling off of you comforting enough to rouse him from a nightmare that would otherwise incapacitate him.

He looked at you with dilated pupils and parted lips, his arms going around you instantly. Tighter this time, almost as tight as yours.

We were shut like a jacket So do your zip We would roll down the rapids To find a wave that fits

You were sat atop the kitchen island, swinging your legs and humming a tune you could vaguely recall hearing on some advertisement for carpet steaming. A bowl of washed strawberries sat on your lap, one of your hands cradling the ceramic carefully as the other flicked through the pages of one of the many magazines Tony bought just because he was on the cover.

You read each word of his interview in which he expressed the need for a rise of women in STEM jobs with a smile pulling at your lips, your eyes rolling when he took any opportunity he could to brag about how many women held high-position jobs in his company.

“That’s one of my favorites.”

You glanced up from the pages, narrowing your eyes at Tony as he set his mug under the Keurig you still had no clue how to use. “You shouldn’t count how many women work for you.”

He pursed his lips in confusion. “How else am I supposed to brag about it?”

“You don’t.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“It’s in here,” you said as you pointed to your heart, smiling at him when he snorted. “Being a decent human being in silence is so much fun. S’like Disneyland, or that feeling I get when I jack one of your cars.”

“Ah, so that’s the opposite of the feeling I get when you borrow one of my cars without asking?”

“The legal term for that is joyriding, Tone.”

“What’s the legal term for leaving melted milkshakes in the cupholders?”

“Courtesy because at least I took all the empty fries cartons out.”

He cracked a wide smile at that. “You’re lucky you’re my favorite.”

“I am. Otherwise there’s no way in hell you’d be okay with me telling you that your R8 is in some impound lot in Brooklyn.”

He let out a long and loud sigh, shaking his head. “Which one?”

“The one on Sands and Navy. Apparently red curbs are only for firemen and not firemen and Avengers.”

He shook with laughter and a roll of his eyes. “What were you doing in Brooklyn anyway? Red October show you his old stomping grounds?”

“I asked Bucky,” you said pointedly with a glare in Tony’s direction, earning only a smile in reply, “where he goes on all his walks considering he’s out for hours at a time—”

“Walk-in freezer at that bulk wholesale store?”

“You know the store is called Costco, I know you know the store is called Costco— stop pretending that ten-foot teddy bear you got for Pepper last year is from anywhere else.” You let out a soft whine of protest when he took the bowl from your lap. “He told me he takes this familiar route to his family’s old house with his bike, helps him remember things that are still a little fuzzy. He wanted me to get on that damn motorcycle with him— but this hair and that wind? No.”

Tony’s smile was small when you looked at him, a warmth in the depth of his brown eyes you always found adoration in. “Seems like he’s opening up to you.”

“Took him long enough.”

He nodded, leaning his backside against the edge of the counter. “Patience, kid. All he can do is try.”

You smiled and took the bowl back, unable to frown even when you noticed there were only two strawberries left. “Didn’t think you’d be advocating for him.”

“I’m advocating for that smile of yours. If you like Grease Lightning, I guess I can give him a chance.”

“Good,” you replied with a nod, setting your elbow atop Tony’s shoulder. “So when are you adding the cooling system to my suit—”

Before you could finish what you were saying and before Tony could make forty-thousand excuses in response, Bucky’s heavy footsteps announced his arrival loudly. He was rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, t-shirt still creased thanks to your balling-up of the fabric the night before.

Tony waggled his eyebrows at you, making a face before he playfully and silently saluted at Bucky with two fingers and left the common area with his coffee abandoned beside you.

You shrugged and picked it up, taking a long sip of the still-warm liquid and sighing out.

“D’you tell him ‘bout his car?”

You frowned. “I can’t believe you made that my responsibility. What happened to chivalry? What happened to that nineteen-forties gentleman nonsense I always hear about from you and Cap?”

“You told me to get with the times, doll,” he replied, voice still thick with sleep. He offered you a tired smile, swollen eyes narrowing from its impact. “I’m gettin’ with the times.”

“Real fortuitous timing on that.”

“‘Sides, you’re Stark’s favorite. You could total twenty-nine of his cars and he’d still give you the keys to the thirtieth if you asked.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Still.”

“You doing anything today?”

You watched as he retrieved a bowl and the box of instant oatmeal Tony and Sam would always scowl at, his steps carrying him to the refrigerator for the milk. “I wanted to train but my ankle hasn’t healed yet which means Steve will probably shriek if he sees me in the gym.”

Bucky laughed through his nose, ripping a package of maple-brown sugar oatmeal and dumping the contents into a bowl. He poured some milk in next and set the bowl in the microwave, starting it up instantly. “There’s this café a few blocks from here. Food’s nothing special, coffee’s just okay, and their AC is always on full-blast— but I like it there, I usually go for lunch.”

You nodded wordlessly, smiling softly so he’d continue.

“Maybe it’s because everything in there is so much slower than it is everywhere else. Maybe the temperature agrees with me, or the owners are too old and uninterested in current events to know who I am. I don’t know what it is.”

“There doesn’t have to be a reason— you can like something without justifying it.”

He nodded, glancing at his oatmeal through the microwave door. “I want you to come with me.”

“You do?”

He nodded again but there was a bit of insecurity in the bluish grey of his eyes when they met yours. “You don’t have to say yes— it’s not too exciting. We could go somewhere else, anywhere you like— I just,” he shook his head, “wanted to show— You know what, it’s fine—”

“I haven’t said no, Buck.” You bit down on your bottom lip to stop your wide smile. “Has anyone ever told you that you ramble?”

He shook his head, his sigh heavy and loud as he took the bowl from the microwave. “S’the first time I’ve ever done that.”

“You know, I’m glad you’re showing me more parts of your life. I love it, actually.”

“Yeah? S’not boring?”

“I’ll tell you this as many times as you need to hear it: I’m happy whenever I’m with you, doesn’t matter what we’re doing.”

He smiled to himself, stirring the oatmeal with his spoon. “S’corny.”

You scowled with a wrinkled nose. “I know, I don’t understand what’s happening to me. Don’t tell Sam.”

I'll hold you when things go wrong I'll be with you from dusk till dawn

You tried not to groan with each step you took, a sharp pain shooting up your leg each time your ankle so much as jostled. There was an ache in your head as well, resonating as a pulse which seemed to expand and contract the hard bones of your skull. You continued to your room, though, only able stomach being under the bright lights Dr. Cho subjected you to in order to patch you up for so long.

You would be fine in the morning, if not sooner— your enhanced healing abilities always made sure of that— you just needed a bottle of water and a lot of rest.

You wouldn’t call it an unsuccessful mission— the larger victory, the more important achievement was earned by your small team Steve had ordered while small losses were suffered by each one of you individually. And perhaps that was what made the smaller losses so much more difficult to cope with— they were yours and yours alone, the experience was entirely individual and almost too shameful to even discuss.

You sighed as you took a long drink from the water bottle you’d retrieved from one of the Tower’s many kitchens, relishing in the coolness that ran down your throat. You held the bottle against your forehead, hoping to cool your skin as you slid it down to your cheek.

You had thought of taking the elevator up to Bucky’s room, knocking on his door and maybe asking him to hold you in the way you often held him when his hair was in knots, his skin was coated in sweat, and his eyes were wide with freshly seen horrors. You decided against it, though, and got off at your floor.

It wasn’t until you approached your door and heard the deep snores that your chest collapsed in surprised relief.

The door clicked shut behind you, your hands making quick and quiet work of your tactical suit. You stole few glances in his direction as if he would sense your gaze in his sleep and the peacefulness over his features would break, the disillusionment of it all would break, and he would vanish.

Though it had been months since the first night you asked him to stay, you never stopped fearing that it would all come to a screeching, abrupt end. You never wanted to push too much on him too quickly and that soon resulted in never pushing anything on him, never leaning on him when you needed to— and you needed to often.

It wasn’t that Bucky wouldn’t oblige, you knew he would. You felt he had too much to deal with already, too much weighing his shoulders down, too much occluding the beautiful mind you’d seen more than just glimmers and peeks of at this point. You didn’t want to be just another thing that disrupted his sleep, his peace, his happiness— you wanted to be a reason for their promotion, not for their demise.

And it certainly wasn’t as if Bucky didn’t try. He often told Steve how much it frustrated him that it didn’t feel even, it didn’t feel reciprocal. He was unloading his every worry onto you, watching as you smiled reassuringly and held onto him with a contradictory gentle-tightness he’d never been so comforted by before— but you never did the same.

He’d grown to trust himself around you, he’d grown to trust who he was around you. He wasn’t a metal arm wielding weapon around you, he wasn’t a tired, washed-up HYDRA assassin with a swiss cheese brain and pathetically violent muscle memory around you. He was Bucky— and, around you, that was enough.

Or so he thought. Perhaps if just Bucky was enough, you’d tell him more, you’d lean on him more. Perhaps if just Bucky was enough, it would be equal.

He stayed around you more and more, he showed you more and more, he loved you more and more all with the hope that you would be able to see enough in him to stay more, to show more, to love more— hell, to love at all, really. After all, you were all light, and beauty, and purity and he wanted nothing more than to preserve all of it.

Sam often asked you if it was even, if it was reciprocal, if it was equal— and you’d respond the same way each time. “The pain itself isn’t equal, Sam.”

Sam hated it— the response, the awful Hardship Olympics you’d given yourself a bronze medal in. He knew, perhaps better than anyone else, that pain couldn’t be measured, it couldn’t be given rankings. Pain was pain and your pain was just as important as anyone else’s. He also knew, however, that you never did anything for Bucky with the intention of having it reciprocated— you did it out of love, and there were no expectations of reciprocation in love.

Still, it worried him and he hoped and encouraged that you would open up to Bucky just as Bucky had done to you. Sam knew for a fact you needed Bucky just as much as he needed you and showing him that wouldn’t hurt anything, if anything it would help both of you. The love there was evident, the trust there was evident, the respect there was evident— it just needed to be expressed.

Stripped down to just a pair of spandex training shorts and a matching sports bra, you stood before your bathroom mirror and squinted through the bright overhead lights at your reflection. Your eyes followed every bruise on your body, zeroing in on a particularly angry cluster of them starting above the waistband at your hip.

Shaking your head to rid yourself of the images of the bruises’ attainment, you took a shaky breath through encircled lips before noting the stitched up gash on your right forearm.

That was an image you couldn’t shake, a feeling you couldn’t rid yourself of. The helplessness of it all, the almost pitifulness of it all. You were capable of more, you were always capable of more and of better— you just couldn’t rise to it, could you?

You set your hands far apart atop the counter, dropping your head so your chin touched your chest as your eyes stung and grew flooded. When the first soft cry left your lips, you couldn’t stop the ones that followed, your shoulders shaking as tears splashed against the pale grey marble. It didn’t take long for your tired legs to give out on you, forcing you backwards until you could sit upon the edge of your tub, your face in your hands.

His phone’s constant dinging with new useless notifications from applications he didn’t know how to delete or, at the very least, turn off, interrupted Bucky’s sleep but didn’t wake him entirely. It was the sound of quiet, strained whimpers from the bathroom that woke him entirely.

He sat up quickly, glancing at the pile of clothing in the corner of the room he recognized as your suit. He then noted the slightly open bathroom door, a sliver of light shining through and stretching across the floor.

The beating in his chest grew irregular as he knocked on the door once, twice, three times. He heard you sniffle and shuffle around, clearing your throat to say quietly, “Yeah?”

He dropped his forehead against the door. “Can I come in?”

There was a brief pause. “I’m okay.”

Then another whimper, another heavy pull in his chest. “Doll, please?”

The next whimper was louder, akin to a chest-shattering sob. He shook his head to himself and opened the door anyway, trying not to focus on what came over him upon noticing your crumpled form, your defeated posture.

He knelt before you, placing his hands on your knees. He looked over you, taking inventory of your injuries and noting that you’d been down to medical by the looks of it.

You dropped your hands when a metal thumb rubbed comforting circles against your skin. Your eyes met slate blue irises that forced your teeth into your bottom lip, caging in a soft cry. “I’m sorry.”

He tilted his head, eyebrows together. “You haven’t done anything to be sorry for.”

“You were sleeping.”

He nodded. “Phone woke me up— but I wish you would’ve. What happened?”

You shook your head, wiping your cheeks with your palms and taking a deep breath. You sat up a little straighter. “Hostages are free and we got what we needed.”

“That’s good. But what happened?” He didn’t care that his voice was growing increasingly desperate.

Another shake of your head. “Nothing, Buck, I’m just tired.”

He placed his flesh hand under your jaw, fingers closed around the back of your neck so his thumb could brush your cheek lightly. His eyes never left yours. “You can tell me.”

“It’s noth—”

“I know it’s not ‘nothing.’” He sighed. “You can trust me enough to tell me.”

You watched him for a moment longer— the pain in his eyes, in his voice, in his soft grip. You thought Sam might be right, you thought it might need expressing. “I had one, small job. Clear the western wing of the building. It wasn’t supposed to be heavily guarded but— The heat scanners didn’t show anything either.”

He nodded.

“I got past most of them, I was even able to do that thing Nat showed me where you use the wall as leverage to get on their shoulders,” you continued, sniffling and accepting the three squares of toilet paper he offered you. “But someone got past me and got to this little girl.”

“Is she okay?”

“Cut her pretty badly but Bruce said she’d be fine, said the injuries are temporary and she was just in shock but—” you inhaled deeply. “But she has to live with the memory of it for the rest of her life and I didn’t— I didn’t make it any easier, I made it worse. She could’ve had such a happy ending and I just tainted it.”

“Doll,” he sighed, pushing himself up so he could sit beside you and take your hands in his. “She’s okay, she’s safe because of you. She got her happy ending.”

“I could’ve done better. I’m capable of doing better.”

“You went into a terrible hostage situation and took an entire wing to yourself. You got past every guard on your own, got every victim out alive. Doll, no one is capable of perfect— but you were almost as close as it gets.”

For a minute, you didn’t believe him. You’d always been told perfection was attainable and was the only acceptable standard— and you fell short. He should’ve clicked his tongue in disappointment at you, he should’ve looked at you with less admiration in his eyes rather than stare at you with more love than you’d ever seen.

It shook something deep within you and, without a second thought, you threw your arms around him and let out whatever was left against his t-shirt.

His metal arm wound around your waist and pulled you into his lap, letting you adjust yourself so your legs were spread apart to sit on either side of him.

Careful of your bruises, he tightened his hold ever so slightly and you sighed against him, words spilling from your lips before you could help it. “I love you,” you admitted softly.

A smile pulled at his lips, turning his face so his face was buried in the crook of your neck. He pressed a kiss to your skin. “I love you.”

It was all even, it was equal, it was all reciprocal.

Baby, I am right here

#FIRST BUCKY FIC AND LIKELY THE LAST LMAO #DEPENDS ON IF LITERALLY ANYONE LIKES THIS HDFGH #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #buck barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #why do y'all have so many tags for this mans

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just-jordie-things · 6 years

Text

Thunderstorm - Theo Raeken

word count: 2555 warnings: swearing, awkward tension request(s): Hey, I don't know if you take requests right now, but could you do one with Theo raeken? The reader is a witch in Scott's pack and she hates Theo (who has a secret crush on her), but they have to work together because of the wild hunt and he slowly earns her trust and her love. Your writing is amazing, it would be so cool of you to write this request😘 thanks and: Can you please do a theo raeken imagine where like its after 6b and theo is more involved in pack and they have like a game or movie night and theres like a thunderstorm and reader is super scared and they all go to bed but he like hears her heartbeat and goes to comfort her and its all really cute and fluffy. sorry this was sooo long dedicated to: @high-functioning-fangirl02 bc she loves theo so much

Theo wasn’t always exactly a friend of yours. In fact, you used to hate his guts so much that you nearly killed him, if it wasn’t for Scott holding you back. There was a time when you still would’ve gone behind your alpha’s back just to end the chimera.

But now things have changed. It’s been a year since Theo and the Dread Doctors were a threat to the pack, and you no longer felt like Theo needed comeuppance. In fact, after he came back from hell to help you all retrieve Stiles and stop the Ghost Riders, and later help take down the hunters that threatened not only your pack but every supernatural creature, you felt he’d really changed as a person. You could even go as far to say you were almost best friends.

You could definitely admit you felt a little more for him than you thought you ever could… not that you’d admit it to anyone else.

You were sat on the sofa while Liam and Scott were challenging each other to an arm wrestling competition. Lydia, Stiles, Malia, and you had put your money on Scott winning. While Kira, Mason, and Theo had put their bet on Liam winning.

Pack sleepovers were always weird, but in fun ways. Last time you had a Just Dance competition, but it got too intense and Stiles and Liam nearly broke out fist fighting.

“Three! Two! One! Arm wrestle!” Stiles spoke excitedly, and everyone gathered around eagerly to watch the tournament, all wide eyed and chanting excitedly.

“I swear sometimes I think I’ve joined a cult” Theo told you, sitting down next to you. You chuckled and nodded in agreement.

“I know I’m in one” You replied, and he laughed as well. The both of you watched the alpha and beta for a few moments, and it seemed like neither of them were moving at all, even though you were sure both were putting as much force as they could into it.

“I didn’t think that this is what your sleepovers would be like” He said, and you began laughing, making him look at you in confusion, wondering what he’d said that was funny.

“You saying sleepover, it’s just hilarious. Theo Raeken is at a sleepover” You snorted with laughter, clutching your stomach. Theo rolled his eyes, not finding it as humorous as you.

“Yeah yeah you’re a dork you know that l/n?” He said sarcastically, but you just grinned at him, affirming his statement.

“Yep! A proud dorky killer werewolf right here” You said with a small laugh. “Well, not really a killer. Dorky werewolf” You corrected. “Hey! That could make a really good tv show” Theo laughed, shaking his head as he smiled at you.

You were something remarkable to Theo. Because you held firm beliefs when it came to your view on the world and the people in it. But that didn’t mean that your mind couldn’t change. For instance he was sure that you’d never accept him into the McCall pack, or that you’d even let him lend you a pen in class. But after the events with the Ghost Riders, and Gerards werewolf hunters, you grew much closer to him. He earned your trust, and a few other things he wasn’t aware of. He got to see the real you, the you that you were when there wasn’t a threat to Beacon Hills. The cute, funny, sometimes spastic, sweet girl you were. And he grew to have quite the soft spot for you.

While you could also be a badass, golden eyed werewolf that could tear the throat out of her enemy in two seconds flat, he liked both sides of you. In fact, he really liked both sides.

And normally, Theo Raeken was the kind of guy who held more confidence than he could handle. But seeing the strange and rather violent history between the two of you, he refrained from working his charms on you. Figuring that he should just be happy that you’re friendly with him.

“I win!” You and Theo turned to see Scott had shoved Liam’s hand against the coffee table, making a small crack in the wood from the force.

“Goddamnit Scott, that one’s new” Lydia grumbled. He’d broken her old one a few weeks ago jumping on it. You couldn’t recall why he’d done it, probably to prove a point of some kind.

“I’ll buy you the next one” Scott said bashfully, and you were laughing quietly to yourself.

“Most teens deal with romance and angst and school stress. Not us. We fight villains and break tables with super strength” You announced, getting up to go find a drink in Lydia’s kitchen.

“I got a really nice red wine you can try if you want” The banshee called to you from the living room.

“That’s alright” You shrugged, opening her fridge for something else. You couldn’t get drunk anyways, no point in wasting good wine. “Another downside to not being a normal teenager” You mumbled to yourself, deciding on a bottle of water anyways.

“Well it’s not any better for me” Stiles said as you came back in.

“Yeah. Me either” Mason agreed. “You think I want to get drunk in front of all of you where you can make fun of me for being an idiot?” Him and Stiles chuckled, both understanding the awkward struggle of being human.

“Well, at least you don’t go insane twice a month” You said, plopping back in your seat by Theo.

“Twice?” Liam mumbled. All the girls gave him a pointed look ad his mouth made an ‘o’ shape. “O-oh right y-yeah” His face turned red as he looked away from their laughter.

“Poor Liam” Theo chuckled, and you smiled at him, your own laughter quiet as you looked at him. His eyes seemed to… sparkle when he laughed.

No y/n. You mentally slapped yourself, your smile softening. Don’t do that, don’t notice things. But you couldn’t help it, he was easy to look at.

You turned away when his eyes caught yours, taking a long drink of your water. Lucky for you, he didn’t say anything about it. But you didn’t catch the way he smiled at you.

“It’s late, why don’t we put in a movie and settle in?” Lydia suggested, and everyone tiredly nodded in agreement.

“It’s my turn to choose!” Malia leapt up from her spot on the floor by Scott, racing over to Lydia’s DVD collection (you swore she owned every movie ever).

“On the bright side, it won’t be a romantic comedy” You said, and Theo sighed with relief.

“Thank. God. I can’t handle one more re-run of The Notebook” You laughed, remembering the way he had stared at the screen with disgust.

Malia ended up choosing some action movie you’d never seen before. Something with aliens but also had a James Bond theme. You found it difficult to follow, sleepily slumped on the couch as your eyes threatened to fall shut.

“You’re gonna pass out during the big fight scene” Your eyes opened just enough to see a blurry splotch shaped like The next to you.

“I happen to be alright with that” You responded dryly, and he just chuckled.

“Well do you want like a blanket or something?”

“No I’m alright” You said in a quiet voice, already closing your eyes again.

You fell asleep not minutes after shutting your eyes.

The movie was nearly three hours long, and Theo wasn’t sure how he managed to stay awake during the whole thing. Shortly after you’d fallen asleep, you’d begun to sprawl across the couch, so he’d moved to the last open chair so you could have the space of the couch to lay out on.

Malia and Scott had set up a makeshift bed of blankets and were currently wrapped up in each other. He thought for a moment they were too cuddly to be cute, before he turned to see Stiles and Lydia on the other sofa.

Okay, that’s worse, he thought, cringing and looking away instantly. Hell, he couldn’t tell where one of them started and the other ended. Shaking his head, he looked around other places, the sound of the rain hitting the roof being the only noise in the room. It was kind of calming, sitting in the dark and listening to the weather outside.

Kira and Liam and Mason were sprawled out separately across the floor as well, no where near the two couples.

He looked back to you, curled up to preserve your warmth seeing that you’d refused a blanket. You took up less than half the couch, and Theo found it amusing you were so compact. If he didn’t know any better, he’d take a photo just to mess with you later.

It was quiet for a few minutes longer, until thunder clapped outside and the lightning lit up the room. It didn’t bother Theo, he was used to the storming weather of Beacon Hills, it was just a part of living there.

But someone here wasn’t as okay with it as he was. His ears instantly caught the sound of a rapid heartbeat. Fear, he noted. They were afraid. He sat up further, looking round for the owner of the heartbeat. And not moments later, you were shuffling off of the couch, and leaving the room. Not even noticing Theo was upright and watching you go.

You were afraid of storms? He shook his head out of confusion. y/n l/n, designated badass? Afraid of storms? How could that be?

Without another thought Theo got out of his chair and followed after you towards the kitchen. You jumped from where you stood by the sliding glass door, your senses heightened more than usual because of the fear you were in.

“Theo?” You whispered, not wanting to awaken anyone else. “What’re you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same thing” He shrugged. But he already knew the answer. Your eyes left his and turned back to the glass, looking up at the dark sky cautiously. “Why’re you afraid of storms?”

Your head snapped over as you glared at him, not exactly… appreciating… his directness.

“I’m not afraid of storms” You told him in a snarky tone. He looked back at you expectantly, knowing there was more to that statement than you’d said aloud. But he didn’t push you again, just wandered over to stand next to you at the large window. Your eyes were wildly flicking across the sky, watching the storm clouds move.

Your whole body flinched when the thunder boomed, and a strike of lightning flashed miles away. The light of it being the only thing that illuminated in the dark kitchen.

After taking a deep breath, you spoke up again. “I’m afraid of what comes after” Your voice shook in it’s whisper, and Theo looked over at you with confusion laced in his expression.

“What do you mean?” He asked. Your teeth sunk into your lip, embarrassed that you were even talking to him about this.

“Storms they… something bad always happens” You admitted. “People get taken and… and erased and it makes others go insane and-” You cut yourself off, taking in a sharp breath. “I’m really fucking tired of losing people” You said weakly.

Theo’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He just stood there, staring at you with sorrowful eyes.

“y/n…” He trailed off, not really knowing how to say ‘I won’t let that happen’ in a non-cheesy way. “That’s over, it’s not happening again-”

“How the hell do you know that?” You asked, not in an angry way, but a helpless one. “How do we know these things won’t happen again? It doesn’t just end when we go to college. What if no one’s here to help? What if something happens before we can get to it? What if one of us-”

“Hey” Theo said softly, reaching for your hand and grasping it gently in his. “Trust me on this, it’s going to be alright”

“But how can you say that?” You choked.

“Because… because I wouldn’t let that happen” Your brows cinched together and your lips parted slightly, unsure of what he meant by that.

“Theo things don’t work like that…especially not around here” You mumbled. “And even if it did there’s nothing you could do to-”

Theo’s hands captured your cheeks and in moments his lips crashed down to yours. A soft sound left the back of your throat in surprise, not having expected… that. But it didn’t take you long for your hands to link around his neck and kiss him back. Even if it was spontaneous, you were still kissing Theo Raeken.

Your eyes were squeezed shut tight, fingers curling into his hair. He was leant down slightly, enough to reach you.

Something between a whimper and a sigh left your lips, making the both of you pull apart briefly, only to take in a breath before you were pulled back into another kiss. Theo’s hands traveled down, settling on your hips and tugging you flush against him. You were just beginning to melt against his touch when lightning struck again and you practically jumped away from him.

Instantly you sighed, putting your hands over your face and running back through your hair stressfully.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright” Theo smiled as kindly as he could, his palms rubbing over your arms warmly. “It’s alright” He repeated. “Just a storm, nothing else” You nodded shakily, and he tucked your loose strands of hair back behind your ear.

“Okay” You whispered back.

“You want to go back to bed?” He asked, and you nodded again. Theo smiled, and lead you back into the living room. “I’m gonna go find you some actual blankets, okay?”

“Okay” You said again, sitting down on the couch and watching him leave in search of something comfy for you.

You were sat there for a while, doing your best not to focus on the storm, to try thinking of anything else. But the rain was coming down so hard and the lightning kept striking and sounded so close, you weren’t sure how else to distract yourself. Until a thought came to mind that made your heart stutter.

“Did I just kiss Theo?” You mumbled to yourself, unknowingly drawing the attention of a certain strawberry blonde that hadn’t been able to fall asleep.

“You did what!?”

i’m sorry this is shit idk what happened xoxo ~ jordie

#teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf scenario #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fanfiction #theo raeken #theo raeken x reader #theo raeken imagine #theo raeken scenario #theo raeken fanfiction #cody christian #cody christian x reader #cody christian scenario #cody christian fanfiction #cody christian imagine

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latynren · 6 years

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Of course my first post would be a Reylo writing prompt! I figure other people have written for this prompt, but I couldn��t help it! It was too touching!

Inspired by this prompt- Kylo hears a woman singing a lullaby and sees a hazy vision of a brunette woman with a black-haired baby. At first, he thinks it’s a memory, until the vision comes into a focus and he realizes it’s not Leia singing to him, but Rey singing to their future child.

This got longer then I originally planned, unbeta’d and very first drafty. Here goes nothing! It's super fluffy of course, so yeah... Let me know what you think!

Force visions did not come to Kylo often. His last one had been with Rey, when they’d touched hands so many months ago. Even then it hadn’t really been a Force vision so much as the Force showing him hints of Rey’s childhood. He hadn’t just seen her parents in that brief moment, he’d seen snippets of what she’d suffered on Jakku. Her fear, her desperation, the never-ending drag of hot days and freezing nights. How many more times had she gone hungry? How many more times had she been beaten? How many times had she come within centimeters of death during mishaps on those forsaken, rotting ships of the Empire?

What would he do with that information?

Kylo often resisted the urge to create another world destroyer just to eradicate that sandy piece of shit planet. Even within the First Order he had a sound reason to do so, since that planet marked the final resting place of the Empire. If he could destroy any trace that the Empire had ever ended Hux might stop hounding him. Hux always appreciated grand and zealous gestures, especially in worship of the past.

There was only one remnant of the past he wished to think of, and he was currently staring into it. The empty sockets of Vader’s melted mask felt as if they may just be glaring back. Or looking with sorrow. Kylo had never been sure which of the two emotions was more likely. Either was possible considering the life and death of the man who’d worn this mask. Anger or agony it didn’t matter, this was the one piece of history he treasured. And a part of that was due to the Force vision he’d seen when he touched this very helmet the first time.

Because he had seen her.

The vision of her was just a single moment in time, a flash of beige clothing and brown hair, but now that he’d met her he knew. It was the eyes in that second that sealed it, alive and vibrant. Hazel. The other moments had been all darkness, swallowing everything he knew. His own hand destroying hope, his knights as they were after he became their master, his conquest of the stars, all of that was there. However even in all that dark, one moment of light had wormed its way in. His Rey.

Still he was surprised when he felt this one take him, no matter how many times he’d begged the mask to show him again. Kylo felt the rush, the disorientating flux of reality. He expected rapid fire scenes of destruction, the death of his enemies, or even views of the worlds he conquered, the First Order sigil flying. None of those things happened.

At first nothing happened.

He heard her then, her voice sounded far away. Swiveling in his chair he followed the source of the sound. The world around him turned blurry, and for a moment everything went black. Then slowly soft light appeared, the golden light of dawn. It slowly seeped into his room, lighting the black walls and floors until they gleamed ivory. Warmth suffused him next, then shadow. A tree outside a window shading him, the green of new leaves as real as if he was there.

The song came again, stronger this time. Still soft, but as if she was in the room with him. Moving slowly this time he tracked his eyes across the room. A woman stood with her back to him, brunette hair flowing down her back in a silky river. Her dress was light and meant for comfort, the pearly material translucent. If not for the under slip he’d have seen more then just her legs.

Intrigued he moved closer, slow steps so as not to disturb this place, that woman.

Her song came to him a bit clearer now, her voice low and melodic as she sang. She was standing in front of something, some type of furniture he thought. The shape hadn’t completely solidified yet so he wasn’t sure what it could be. Studying her closely he noted a bend to her arms, as if she were holding something. Cradling something. Something that contrasted heavily with the light of her clothing. Black, silky strands against the crease of her elbow, her head turned just so to look down. Devotion, and a love so deep he could sense it, in the softness of her lips and jaw. The rest was hidden by her unbound hair.

A baby he realized. Very small if the soft mewling sounds were any indication. Not a real cry yet. He wasn’t sure how he knew, maybe it was some deeply buried instinct. It must be considering what it triggered inside of him.

Protectiveness.

Breathing evenly, he tried to put that feeling back where it belonged. This was obviously the past, there was no undoing what would be done to this child. Although why the force would choose to show him his own childhood he wasn’t sure. What good was this going to do? He’d already failed to kill Leia in his quest to destroy the past, and he was not planning to try again.

Whatever happened to the Resistance he was going to stay as far away from that woman as possible. She made him falter, made him weak, just like another brunette that came to mind.

The words of the Leia’s song became clearer, of course it would be that morbid tune she’d sing. It had always been her favorite to sing to him.

‘Mirrorbright, shines the moon, its glow as soft as an ember’

Something about that voice didn’t sit right. What memories he had of his early childhood were hazy, at best, and sometimes distorted. However he knew this song, Leia had sung it at bedtime many nights to help him sleep. And considering it actually had aided him in finding dreamless peace he’d often begged her to sing it. Something about her singing always soothed him, and he wondered now if she had unconsciously imbued the song with her own light force.

‘When the moon is mirrorbright, take this time to remember’

Trepidation left him wavering as he toed forward. Only his belief that he was watching his own past kept him from feeling like an intruder.

‘Those you have loved but are gone’

Han and Luke’s faces flashed through his mind. Desperately Kylo tried not to think of why that lyric would bring them to mind. He had to push them back, something wasn’t right here.

That wasn’t his mother’s voice. Kylo was sure now. He felt nothing but her love for the tiny being cooing in her arms. No force to chase away his darkness. He wondered, would he have needed it then? Is that why she sounded different? He was starting to see the outline of the child’s face, a button nose and rosy lips. The lips were the same for sure, but how had he grown this long nose from that tiny, up-tilted bump?

‘Those who kept you so safe and warm- ’ The woman gave a gasp and turned more toward him, he’d come too close. He noticed the lips first, pink and healthy, but not quite right. In fact everything about her face was not quite Leia, but heart-rendingly familiar. Tracing his eyes up he looked into her eyes.

Hazel eyes, not warm brown.

‘Ben.’ Those eyes smiled as he felt a shock run through him. Stronger then anything Snoke had ever thrown his way, electricity ran from his feet to his head and left him stunned. Still she smiled. Looking down swiftly he stared at the child in her arms. Her nose, his lips.

His lips…

His.

His! That thought beat with the rhythm of his heart and spread joy through his veins. Rey was cradling his child to her, singing his lullaby, and most importantly she was happy. Nothing of this place spoke of pain or unease, only the warmth of happiness. And love, hers for the baby as well as hers for him. Suddenly without a doubt, his love for them flowed around them too.

‘Here, take her, she’s so fussy!’ Rey giggled softly, without hesitation she moved the baby to her hands. She trusted him, unquestionably. With extreme apprehension, but boundless desire, he reached for the baby.

His daughter!

Somehow the force allowed it, her slight weight was tangible in his hands. Rey continued to support the baby’s head until he got her into the cradled position he’d seen Rey adopt. ‘She always has such a hard time sleeping, unless you sing to her of course!’

He knew why he had a hard time sleeping as a child.

The little girl looked up at him with shining eyes. Little tears still clung to her lashes, and Ben wanted to destroy anything that brought her unhappiness. Nothing was allowed to make her sad, no sorrow was to touch her. He felt the force in her, and he despaired at the idea of a creature like Snoke finding her. As he looked into those eyes, a strange gray that seemed to be turning brown, he felt horror fill him at the idea of anything using her.

Never!

He would die to keep her safe!

‘My little crabby girl, you make it hard for your brother to sleep.’ Ben’s head snapped back to look at Rey. She had been looking at the baby in his arms, now she was gently reaching into the object he’d noticed before. A crib, and a long one, almost like two had been shoved together. As she straightened he saw why.

‘Poor baby boy, did sissy wake you?’ Bringing this baby to her face she nuzzled his head and snuffled into his neck. The babies face was turned toward Ben, he saw the interaction of mother and son closely. Being so young the baby didn’t giggle, but his eyes widened and he cooed with obvious delight. He was going to have her eyes, and her hair too, but he’d been cursed with Ben’s nose and ears. And the force was in him too, just as strong as his sister.

Tears were freely falling down Ben’s cheeks in silent rivers.

Looking down he saw his daughter watching him with eyes that seemed too old for her little face. Like she knew. Holding back a sob he mimicked Rey’s hold so he could bring her to his face, supporting the baby’s head carefully.

She even smelled real, and so fresh. Like spring and mother’s milk, a scent he recognized subconsciously.

Her skin was silk against his cheek. He was so thankful he’d actually shaved today, so at least he wouldn’t hurt her with his stubble. She made a little sound, almost an animal sound, as he rubbed his nose into her unbelievably soft hair. He chuffed back at her, all of it instinct.

My baby, my babies.

He felt a little bump against his shoulder, Rey was resting her head against his shoulder. Turning her head up at him she gave him a tired smile, but there was such joy infused he could only share in it.

Our babies

‘She loves when her daddy sings the song for her, it always put her to sleep.’ There was a tiny grumble of envy in her tone, but he easily sensed it was meant in good-nature. Then her eyes slid to the baby boy. His expression was much different than his sisters, he seemed content where she was conflicted. Still he had turned his bleary eyes to Ben in a way that made him believe that was definitely watching his father. Rey huffed, ‘and him too.’

‘Should I start over?’ He asked softly.

‘Sure, I’ll join in, but they never respond to me like they do to you.’ Rey nodded.

Taking a deep breath he found the song easy to remember. Even after all these years, even with him willing himself to forget it.

‘Mirrorbright, shines the moon, its glow as soft as an ember

When the moon is mirrorbright, take this time to remember

Those you have loved but are gone

Those who kept you so safe and warm

The mirrorbright moon lets you see

Those who have ceased to be

Mirrorbright shines the moon, as fires die to their embers

Those you loved are with you still—

The moon will help you remember’ They sang together, and as in all things he found they balanced each other perfectly. Her voice was just the right pitch to suit his much lower tone. The babies cradled against them had both fallen asleep.

Together they created wonderful things.

‘See,’ Rey whispered as she moved toward the crib again. ‘You always make them settle and get to sleep. It’s handy.’

He realized then that he’d imbued his own force into his words. Light force.

Rey nudged him again and he knew she wanted him to put his daughter in her side of the crib.

What are their names?! What was she called? Did he have nicknames for them? He was desperate to ask, but he didn’t want to do anything to stop this vision. And even though he was loathed to do so he knew he had to put her down. She needed to sleep.

Silently he stepped forward, bending over the crib to set her down as gently as possible.

When he straightened his hands felt empty.

‘See, you were so nervous waiting for them to get here, but I knew you’d do fine.’ She was resting her head against him again, it was a gesture that was familiar to her. They’d stood this way many times in her reality. ‘You’re going to do fine Ben, you’ll see.’

He just nodded.

The vision became hazy again. Inside he was screaming and howling, never wanting this to end, but outward he stood still, not wanting to disturb that moment anymore then he already had. They faded, darkness crawling back in. Swallowing the soft sunlight, eating away at his vision with a savagery they he almost couldn’t stomach.

When it was all gone he felt to his knees. He was alone again. The pain was cutting, it sent him down onto his elbows with his head pressed to the cold floor. Tears finally fell from his face, dripping onto the floor. Great shuddering breaths wracked his chest, and some of the suppressed agony rushed forward in incomprehensible roars.

Why!

Force, why!

Why did it take them away from him? Why had it shown him so much? Allowed him to interact with that shade of the future?

Ben had never wanted anything more then to relive those moments in this reality. Nothing had ever infused him with such longing before. Not even the power he’d been promised had drawn him as inexorably as that one moment.

How was he to achieve such a thing? He’d built a home with her, created a family, and lived in peace. How was that even possible? Would he ruin it by knowing? Would he never have reached it had he never seen that vision? Did he do nothing, or did it try?

How could he simply do as the force willed when he wanted that so badly?

Trust in the force

Words spoken by every one of his relatives at some point in his life.

His mother had said it constantly when he was nervous, or doing new things.

His father had said it just before he’d been sent to Luke.

His uncle had repeated that quietly when Ben questioned his pacifist teachings.

Ben’s grief finally subsided, and slowly it was replaced with something that he had long cast aside. That he’d long thought dead within him.

Hope.

#reyloprompts inspired #reylo babies

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