Title: Heartbeat Pt. II Pairing: Josh Dun/Reader, Tyler Joseph/Reader Rating: Mature Warnings: Public shenanigans, phone sex, minor daddy kink, more fuckboy Tyler, sweetheart Josh, lots of fun. A/N: Here’s part two! I’ve already started on part three. This isn’t quite as long as the last part, but it’s still up there! Things are starting to get intense, and they’re only gonna get wilder from here on out. I hope you guys enjoy!
THE PHOENIX RISES Chapter 20 [ Olicity | Bratva AU | Explicit]
SUMMARY: For two years, Felicity has lived as a woman happily married to Oliver Queen. They have had their differences like they always do, but nothing they could not come back from. Until now. Things crumble to the ground as an evil from the past descends upon their married life and tragedy reigns, they face something they never have before. But Felicity knows together, they can brave through. Oliver has no intention of letting go. Neither does she.
As she’d suspected, he was there. Leaning against the open French doors that led out to a small veranda and further into the endless lawn of their property, Oliver stood - wearing dark jeans that cupped his beautiful ass and a simple black t-shirt that hugged his beautiful back - watching something far away.
Felicity admired his form for a long moment, aware that he knew she’d come into the room, and walked towards the plush reddish-brown sofa in the center of the space.
“You know,” she began, her voice still raspy with sleep, “it’s not nice to leave your pregnant wife alone in bed.”
He didn’t reply like he usually would have with a quip of his own.
He didn’t even turn.
Felicity came to a halt beside the sofa, frowning, before she changed directions and headed towards where he stood. Closing the space between them in more steps than she would’ve liked, she finally reached him, extending the hand that wasn’t on the baby bump to fall on his bicep.
“Hey,” she slowly maneuvered herself around, so she stood in front of him, and took in his face.
And for the first time in a long time, he looked haggard. There were dark bags under his tired, slightly frightened but still beautiful eyes, his scruff almost grown out into a little beard, his skin dull.
He put his arms around her waist, pulling her into himself, their baby locked between their bodies, his forehead coming down to rest against hers, his eyes closing as he exhaled softly, his woodsy scent wrapped around her.
“Baby,” Felicity put her hands on his jaw, feeling the soft hair on his face under her palms, her insides clenching at seeing him like this. “Talk to me.”
He sighed. “I’m not proud of some things that I’ve done, солнышко.”
He rubbed his forehead against hers, caressing her nose with his. “I don’t want the way your eyes look at me to change.”
Gripping his face firmly, Felicity urged him to open his eyes.
And then she spoke, right from her heart that even now burst with her love for him.
“I don’t care who you were before you met me, Oliver. I don’t care for what you’ve done for more than how it affects you. I know the man you are now and that is someone I’m proud to have as my child’s father and even more proud to have as my husband.”
Felicity smiled softly, putting her hands on his chest, feeling the harsh beating of his heart under her palms. “You forget I’ve looked under your heart, Oliver. I’ve lived under your skin. And it’s a beautiful place. So, don’t worry that I won’t look at you the same. Because I don’t look at your with my eyes; I look at you with my heart, and what’s here will never change.”
His eyes fluttered shut for a second upon hearing her words. “Promise?”
Prompt smut ideas: doing it for the first time in an arranged marriage; or in the library ;p
HOW ABOUT BOTH
It’s been three weeks. Three weeks married to the man now known again as Ben Solo–though he fools no one, least of all his wife. This man is still Kylo Ren, Jedi Father Galaxy killer, and no amount of supervision and diplomacy will change that.
The old order is dead, and with it its outdated customs. That’s why Rey knows this arranged marriage is for nothing. It was an absurd proposition, and Rey feels like all they’ve done is invited the wolf in among the sheep, no wool cloak needed.
But, he hasn’t touched her. They share a room, and Rey was ready enough to fulfill her part of things. The chaste kiss at the closing of the ceremony, and the less chaste one that followed at the final raising of glasses at the reception, confirmed well enough what she’d known to be true since Kylo pulled off his mask those two years before: He was a pretty thing, and that mouth was made for kissing.
But that was all. They both moved in for the brief touching of lips that sealed them as husband and wife, and it had been Kylo that had tugged her up against his body when the cry went up and near empty glasses were raised: To a united front! To the end of war and a beginning of peace! To hope!
He had a hand resting lightly at the small of her back–for show only, surely–but the cheer surged something through him. She felt that well enough. And he wrapped that long, thick arm around her middle and dragged her up his body and kissed her. More shouts rang out at that and her wine spilled on her dress–but Rey hadn’t cared. That kiss, possessive and hot and achingly soft, that kiss was something that she liked.
So when they returned to their room that night, and Rey’s drink-clumsied hands finally pulled her dress from her body, she was startled at his hand laid over hers as she began to work at her underclothes. Stopping her. He left the room to change and made a pathetic bed on the too-small sofa. Rey changed in front of him–because why wouldn’t she?–and climbed into their bed.
Where she has slept alone, for three weeks.
She is sometimes angry about this, and sometimes sad. Usually she is frustrated. Does he think her untouched? That he’s saving her from some trauma by refusing to consummate what was already forced on her?
Well, she isn’t, and fucking a pretty thing with lips that make her shiver in their softness might be the only perk to being married off to the Scourge of the Galaxy. It’s not gallant. It’s annoying.
Which is probably why she acts before she can think when she sees him sitting alone in the sparse little library. He’s reading a book–a rare luxury in these times–and holding it with such care in those large, blunted hands. It makes her see red.
Her hand fists in his hair and she drags him up from his seat. She tugs him into the nearest aisle and tosses him against the high bookshelf. He humors her, and knocks back hard against it. She’s tall, but he’s taller. She’s strong, but he is so much stronger.
She pokes him in the chest, not really sure what she’s going to reprimand him for. She pokes again, but no words come.
“Spit it out, wife. I was just about to finish that chapter.” Those wide eyes narrow at her and that mouth, that mouth. He pouts when he’s angry. Actually pouts. She could bite him for it.
She snarls. “I’m not your wife. Not yet, and you know it.”
Kylo laughs at her. “I thought you considered the old ways dead? Why do you suddenly see the need to rut to make it official?”
“Then let me get back to my book.” He pouts harder.
She bites him.
What comes next is what she has wanted. Dragged up that body again, like at the reception, like in her wettest of dreams. He turns and crushes her into the bookcase behind her, and she groans. He’s broad and inelegant and pulls no punches. She’d probably the only one who could withstand this without breaking in half. That makes her feel powerful.
She kisses him again, because that’s what is fueling every bit of this. The kiss that won’t leave her alone. The kiss that follows her to bed every night and leaves her wanting. Why would he kiss her like that and then not lay another finger on her? Why, other than to be cruel?
Because I’m cruel, drifts across her mind, and she bites him again. There’s so much give to those full lips.
It’s not how she thought this would finally happen, him dragging down her trousers so fast the fabric burns her skin, her hands fumbling with the fastenings of his, their mouths refusing to separate, but it is. He fucks her against a bookcase that will leave very regimented bruises down her back: a long, straight line across her shoulder blades, the middle of her back, the top of her ass. And she kisses him through it all. The rest of him is nice enough, and if she can convince him to crawl his hulking ass off the sofa and into their bed, she might explore it more thoroughly later.
But what she wants now is his lips, and she takes them. Shows him that he can’t just kiss her like that and leave her be. Rey knows the value of wreckage and her now, completely, finally husband is salvage she can work with.
The old order might be dead, its arranged marriages and truces and alliances counting for very little. But passion–the Dark that still simmers in the man coming apart between her thighs–that can be honed into a murky Grey chain Rey can wrap around her fist.
Kylo Ren assures that, link by link, with every kiss he gives her, every kiss she takes. He may be cruel, but she is crueler, and she’s not done with him yet.
Thank you for doing my request for monsta x! I liked it so much I came back for another lol. Can you also do bts finding your tattoos with long answers like you did for shownu and jooheon? Have a good day :)
I have been at this for awhile and I have only managed to make the hyung line to the point where I like their story. I shall do the rest but i it’s just took so long I want to share the hyung line :)
You and Jin had been dating for a few months now and you never ever took off your top. Even when you and Jin where getting intimate you always kept it on.
Jin, being the gentleman he is never pressed the matter assuming you was just insecure or something and would eventually brave it on day.
But after time had passed Jin began to get a little frustrated. You had seen him, why couldn’t he seen you, you had nothing to be insecure about he thought you was absolutely beautiful so during and intense make out session Jin decided to lift up your shirt. You immediately pushed his hands away but he stopped and looked at you “babe, I love you and you shouldn’t be insecure about your body. You’re beautiful” he said as he kissed your cheek again and lifted your shirt.
When he took off your shirt and saw your tattoo he didn’t react. He just proceeded to kiss down your stomach talking you how beautiful you are.
He lay in bed listening to your “singing” in the shower. He chucked at your off pitched whaling only making him fall more in love with you.
When you stopped singing and got out of the shower you realised you left your clothes in the bedroom where Suga was. You wrapped yourself in a towel and walked out.
Suga raised an eyebrow when you came through the door in nothing but a towel. “Oh.. ready for round two then?” He chucked as you just pulled a face at him ignoring him. You walked past the bed and went towards the wardrobe to pull out some clothes.
“Is that a tattoo?!” Suga blurted out suddenly. “What?” You ask turning around only to see him in front of you. He turned you back around inspecting your shoulder. “Why have I never seen that before?!” He asked himself while trailing his fingers around it. You shrugged laughing at his fascination.
You had gotten into your flat late at night, Namjoon had already gone to bed and you was so tired you couldn’t be bothered changing so you just took of your jeans and top, slipping under the covers to go to sleep.
Namjoon woke up around 8am to you next to him. He gave a soft smile moving the hair from your face around your ear before getting up. He lifted up the covers to see you wasn’t in your pajarmas you was in your underwear and he saw something in your hip. A tattoo?
“Y/n? Is that a tattoo?” You fluttered your eyes open to see Namjoon looking at your hip, the covers on the other side of your bed. He lifted a finger and stroked it across the inked skin “how have I not seen this? It’s beautiful” he smiled at you.
You and Jhope where play fighting on the sofa. You refused to change the channel and hobie wanted the remote so got on top of you and started tickling you. You both tackled each the to the floor untill he pinned you down, in your struggle to escape Hobie lifted your shirt accidentally when he saw a large tattoo in your back. “Woah! Y/n!” He said holding you down even more so he could inspect your tattoo. “Did it hurt? It’s so cool!” He gasped amazed as you still tried to wiggle from his grasp.
Prompt #18: “What’s the matter, sweetie?” #20: ”I don’t want to hear your excuse. You can’t just give me wet-willies.“ #31: “I haven’t slept in ages.” Words: 1,029 Warnings: none!
“Love, could you give mummy a little space, please?” You smiled at your daughter exasperatedly, after nearly tripping on her little toes as you turned to the stove to tend to the boiling noodles.
“I wanna help,” the three-year-old whined, trying to grab at anything she could on the counters above her.
You gently guided her hands away from the countertops, away from the knives and food and lit stove. You appreciated her gesture, but with your five-month-old son already against your breast, you quite literally had your hands full. “Thank you, baby, but I really – no, don’t touch that – I really need some space, okay?” You adjusted your son in your arms and turned around to find something in the refrigerator. The shrill scream from your daughter that pierced the air startled you, making your drop the glass jar of pasta sauce onto the wooden floor below you. It scared your son, too, his face no longer feeding on you but twisted in a pained cry instead. Now you had two screaming children on your hands and a hazardous mess on the floor. “Daniel!” You hollered for your husband desperately while putting your wailing son in his high chair.
Dan was already at the bottom of the stairs when you called, responding immediately to the crashing and screaming commotion in the kitchen. “What the bloody– Oh, my God,” Dan hurried toward your screaming daughter and knelt to her level. “What’s the matter, sweetie?“ He searched her little body for any sign of injury, stopping when he saw her fingers in her mouth.
“I touched the stove,” she hiccuped between sobs, “I hurt my hand, Daddy.”
“Come ‘ere,” Dan picked her up and carried her to the bathroom counter, holding her hand under the cold tap and letting it run, “hold that there for me, yeah?” Dan went to the kitchen once more in search for burn relief cream and was welcomed by the chaotic sight again. There you were, standing by a pool of tomato sauce, screaming baby beside you, with your shirt only half-on from your son’s interrupted feeding session. Your hair was beginning to look a mess too, you couldn’t stop nervously running your hands through it. Dan caught your eye and began to chuckle, it was a funny sight and he couldn’t stay serious for long.
“It’s not funny, Dan,” you sighed, allowing yourself a small smile. At least he was seeing the bright side. You pulled down your shirt when you caught him staring and switched the stove off.
“It’s a little funny,” he laughed, finding a tube of burn cream and returning again to his little girl. You went back to picking up shards of glass from the floor, thankfully there were only a few large pieces you had to find before wiping up the sauce mess, and you attended back to your crying son.
“I know, bear,” you cooed, “we’re all hungry,” you picked him up and brought him over to the sofa, hoping a change of environment would calm him down and encourage him to feed again. Within minutes, Dan came into the lounge with your daughter on his hip, a tired and tear-stained smile on her face, fingers in her mouth. You knew her burn couldn’t have been too bad, but you were relieved Dan could get her to smile again. “All better, princess?” You asked her as Dan sat down with her next to you. She smiled at the nickname and nodded, brown curls bouncing with her head.
“Just a little boo-boo,” Dan commented, adjusting the girl in his lap and leaning his head on your shoulder, watching you feed your son, “right, love?” He looked to the smiling girl and coaxed her hand out of her mouth, “Get your hands out of there, you goof.”
Dan brought her hand down but the mischievous little girl was inspired otherwise, sticking her small fingers playfully into her father’s ear, giggling wildly. “Hey!” Dan shouted, “What’s this about?”
She giggled again, putting her fingers back in her mouth and once more into Dan’s ear, making him yell out again, “I burned my fingers, Daddy, I’m making them better!”
He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, eyes crinkling and dimples showing as he laughed, “I don’t want to hear your excuse, you can’t just give me wet-willies!” He grabbed her hands gently and held them down, neither of them at this point holding in any laughter. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
The girl nodded and squealed as she charged toward his head again. As cute as the scene was, you were rather peckish and growing tired, your son too, and the howling pair certainly wasn’t making the situation better. You shifted irritably in your seat and laid your head back against the cushions and shut your eyes.
“Tired, love?” Dan asked you, still holding your daughter’s hands and playing with them softly.
You hummed and nodded in response, craving the nap you never got today. “I haven’t slept in ages,“ you groaned, “I think I’m dead.” You really did feel like it, you couldn’t remember the last time you had five minutes to tend to your own needs. Not that you didn’t love caring for your family, but you were exhausted. Dan frowned and set your daughter on the ground and whispered something in her ear that led her to gallop toward the adjacent playroom, and he looked between you and your son.
“Give him to me,” Dan said, reaching for the fussy baby. You began to protest, not wanting him to take pity on you, but he shook his head and took the child. “I’ve got him, love,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple and pulling you up, “you go get some sleep, I’ve got them.” You muttered a thank you and leant into him for a hug. You felt your body growing heavier by the second and finally convinced yourself to walk upstairs to bed after kissing your baby’s head and Dan’s lips. You thanked the powers that be for Dan, as it was in these moments that you realised you’d probably be dead without him.
Can you please do a Simon, jay, loco reaction of them forgetting your anniversary?
Simon : you’ll find a extremely huge flower bouquet in front of your door on the next day with a handwritten note “this florist is really suck. i ask them to send you the biggest flower bouquet they had. but it’s still smaller than my sorry to you. i’m so mad!” you can’t help but smile while read his note and he’ll showing from nowhere with another flower bouquet on his hand, kneeling down to you. “if you remember that day when i ask you out at night after our first date, you didn’t answer it right away but the next day. so i’m not missing our anniversary right?” with cutie pouting face.
jay : He won’t even notice that he missed his anniversary with you until he couldn’t contact you because you’re mad at him. he’ll come to your house and ask for explanation why you ignore him, and when you told that he missed anniversary he’ll cut your words with “wait baby, i have incoming call.” he puts his phone on his ear and leaving the room to receive the call. after finished you bombard him with your nagging because he’s really ignorant. “but baby, it was important call” “yeah, more important than me and our anniversary. who’s the hell is that?” “manager hyung. he told me that if we don’t go within 10 minutes, we’ll miss our flight.” “flight?” “just take your passport”. he’ll take you to enjoy sudden trip to celebrate your anniversary.
Loco : he come to your house with chicken and beers to hang out after finished his recording like he usually do. it’s past midnight and of course past your anniversary date. he’ll chill out on your sofa while changing the channel tv. “babe did you forget something?” you ask him. “hmm… no babe, i bring my phone and wallet tonight.” “how about our anniversary?” his face will turn pale and no words come out from his mouth even i clearly see he tries to move it. “baby…i’m …oh my God…i… uuuh… i must be crazy.” tears start piled up on his eyes. you laugh at his priceless expression and hug him, told him that he doesn’t miss the anniversary day and you just tease him (actually he really missed the anniversary day, you just feel bad to him). “really? i’m so scared that you’ll leave me” then he will hug you tight.
Prompt 2: “I am not human, I never was. So why are you expecting me to act like one?”
Y/N- your name
E/C- eye color
Y/S/N- Your sisters name
Hope you like it!
“Damian, please,” You begged, while you already knew that his mind was made up. “Why must you be so damn difficult?”
“Y/N you know what you got into when you decided to be with me. I don’t understand why you keep expecting me to change my mind,” Damian glared at you from his seat on the sofa.
“Because humans can change if they want too,” You whispered, trying one last time to get him to understand your side.
It had been hell these last few weeks, ever since Richard had left Damian refused to talk to anyone, let alone you. All he seemed to do was train and act brashly, and it was starting to worry you. So you being you, you begged him to let you in, but still he refused.
“I am not human, I never was. So why are you expecting me to act like one?” Damian growled out, standing getting ready to storm off.
You looked at him feeling your heart break slightly. “You are too me… I just thought-”
“Thought what? Because you’re my partner that I would just let you in so easily? Just leave me alone harlot,” Damian snapped, turning on his heel towards the training room.
You stood there frozen, not quite registering that he had just called you a disgraceful name. You took a step back, bumping into the wall, gripping the corner for support. Did he really think that about you? He’s just angry..
You closed your E/C eyes, steeling yourself not to break down. You took deep breaths, before willing yourself away from the wall and towards your shared bedroom. You grabbed your overnight bag, moving around the room in a frenzy shoving clothes into the medium sized bag. Once you had gathered everything and booked the hotel room across Gotham, you found a pen and paper, letting him know that some distance would do you both some good. You turned, moving quickly out of your shared loft, all while repeating, “Space will help us.”
You groaned slightly as you sat up in the cold bed. It was hard to sleep, when you didn’t have vice like arms around you to keep you from moving. You glanced out the window seeing Gotham’s dark night sky. At this rate you probably wouldn’t be able to sleep. You glanced down at your left hand, seeing the ring on your finger gleaming slightly from the moon light. You brushed your finger over the ring recalling the small wedding and all of the joy on that day.
Three symbolic knocks on the hotel door had you tensing slightly, only to relax slightly when four more knocks sounded. You got out of the bed, moving quietly toward the door, peeking out through the peephole, seeing you husband standing there, dressed in comfy clothes. “Habibati, open the door please. I know your standing there.”
You bit your lip, unlocking the door opening it slightly so he could see you but he couldn’t come in. “What are you doing here?”
“I promised that we would never go to bed angry, I won’t break that promise. Habibati let me in please,” His green eyes bored into your E/C ones. You sighed, moving back away from the door letting him inside.
“Maybe I should charge you for coming in since I’m a harlot,” You murmured, pushing past him to go sit on the bed. “But I’d say that you couldn’t afford me.”
“Habibati…” Damian started moving closer to you.
“Don’t Damian… I get that I pushed you but you didn’t care to see anything from my perspective. I know you miss Dick, but that doesn’t give you free reign to be brash and retreat into yourself. Love, I know you’re upset and I want to help you, but I can’t if you just push me away,” You whispered, wanting to move closer but it was one of those things where you were at war with yourself. “Damian I love you and I’m here for you, as your wife, your partner.”
“You left…” Damian sat down on the bed, his eyes showing the hurt that he felt, but didn’t know how to properly express it.
“I didn’t want too,” You looked down at your fingers listening to the words your sister had said to you prior to your wedding. “If he needs space, give it to him. If you don’t, you’ll get closer to him and he’ll grow away from you.” You recited your sister’s words, not having the courage to look at him. “Y/S/N told me that.”
“Habibati, that will never happen. I am yours just like you are mine and we will never grow apart. Not just for this moment, not for an hour, or day, or year - I will always love you,” You felt the tears, gather in your eyes, hearing him recite some his vows that he had made to you.
“I love you Damian,” You moved closer to him, feeling him wrap you into one of his hugs.
“I love you Y/N,” Damian kissed your cheek, pulling you closer to him. “I’m sorry for what I said habibati, I didn’t mean it.”
You pulled back slightly, moving your hand so you could stroke his cheeks. “I know, but if you call me a harlot again, you might wake up to one thing missing.” You smirked slightly, glancing down towards his lap. “Understand love?”
A small surge of fear shot through his brilliant green eyes, before he managed a small smile. “I knew you were the right girl who stole my heart. You’re the only one who can make me feel fear.”
You smiled at him, still stroking his skin, “You were wrong you know..” He raised at eyebrow at you. “You are human.”
Author’s Note: Ah, I said I was going to post the Monahan one tonight, but I can’t figure out a satisfactory ending. :( It’ll be up either tomorrow or one night next week. Hopefully Mikael Granlund will curb any disappointment. As usual, let me know what you think!
The door slammed shut, signaling the arrival of your
boyfriend Mikael. You knew he was having a rough day; it had started out with a
flat tire, which led to him being late for practice; almost getting him
scratched from tonight’s game. The game itself hadn’t gone much better for him;
he had coughed up the puck at center ice, a turnover which had led to the game
winning goal for the other team. Knowing he wouldn’t come to you or open
up about his day without some coaxing, you did some quick planning.
“Mikael, come here. I need you.” you called from the sofa, the television turned on softly, curled up in your favorite
blanket. He would resist if you tried to comfort him, insisting he was fine;
but if you claimed you were the one who needed something, he’d do anything for
you, no matter how he was currently feeling.
You heard his footsteps behind the sofa, rolling onto your back you
looked up at him; he bent down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his hair falling into his eyes. “What do you
need, baby?” he asked softly as he loosened his tie; his body tense, exhaustion
in his eyes.
“Cuddles?” you questioned. “The sofa is already
warm.” you said, trying to sweeten the deal.
He sighed, a small smile briefly crossing his face. “Let me
change first.” he said, walking away.
He returned a few moments later, walking around to the front
of the sofa; having changed into a pair of sweatpants, his torso bare. You
lifted the blanket, and he slid under the cover, lying beside you. You rolled
onto your side, wrapping your arm around Mikael, your fingers skimming across his
warm skin. He shifted, his back now pressed against your front. You slowly
pressed a trail of kisses from the back of his neck to his shoulder, his tense
muscles relaxing in your embrace.
“You’re a liar.” he said quietly, the twinge of a smile in
“I said ‘cuddles’, not who would be the little spoon.” you
said. “Talk to me.”
“I played like garbage tonight.” he sighed moments later.
“It was one bad play, Mikael, don’t beat yourself up about
it.” you reassured him; your fingers linking with his, resting by his bare stomach.
“It’s hard not to, we still would have had a chance if I
hadn’t turned the puck over.” he said sadly.
“The team is still second place in the west. You guys are
playing great; one bad play isn’t going to ruin the team.”
“I’m surprised the team didn’t give me shit for it.” he
muttered, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand.
“Remember that game in January when Spurgeon did basically
the same thing? You didn’t give him shit for it, did you?”
“No, it was an accident.” he said with a shrug.
“Exactly babe, one bad play isn’t going to make the boys
turn against you.” you said, kissing his shoulder blade. “And if I remember
correctly, how could they ever be mad at you when you’re leading the team in
goals, and assists, overall points, short-handed goals, power play points…” you
Mikael laughed, rolling over in your arms to face you; he
pressed a kiss to your lips to make you stop. “I get it alright?” he laughed.
“What’s that face for?” he questioned, his eyes catching the smirk on your face.
“I just like seeing you smile.” you answered simply.
“You’re a dork, you know that (Y/N)? And you’re the reason
for this smile.” he said, his lips pulling into a grin for the first time all
night. “I’m so tired baby; I don’t want to walk to bed. Can we just stay like
this?” he asked, snuggling closer to you before you could answer.
“Of course. I love you, Mikael.” you hummed, pressing a kiss
to his cheek.
“Love you.” he mumbled already drifting off to sleep.
Request: could you write something with mikael granlund and him having a bad day?
like he gets really worked up so you cuddle with him as the little
spoon until he just falls asleep on you bc he’s so tired and stressed?
So this is my first contribution to TXF fandom and my first foray into ff for an extremely long time. I never thought I would write ff again, but you simply incredible writers have inspired me so much and… this little piece is kind of the result of that. So, if it’s read or not, I’d like to thank you all for doing what you do and getting this little one writing again.
Pre-revival, Post-IWTB. MSR angst.
He comes to her in the dead of night and the thought prods at the back of his mind that this never used to be something to be anxious about.
In the early days, Mulder had never really worried if Scully would be happy to see him. His wild and reckless young mind had never entertained the idea that she wouldn’t let him in, be perfectly willing to hear his next mad-cap idea.
And then, as the years passed, Mulder has always known that Scully may sigh and roll her eyes, say “ Mulder, it’s late ” in that exhausted way of hers, but the smile at the edge of those lips would say otherwise and he’d slip past her into her living room and down onto her sofa before she could change her mind. (He knew that she wouldn’t.)
please so 1, 15, or 125! or all of them lol :)) can't wait to read, your writing is always great!
1 - “The skirt is supposed to be this short.”
This was the first time you had taken Harry along on a photo shoot and honestly? You had regretted it.
He had not stopped asking questions and complaining.
“What does this light do?”
“That’s a lot of make up, I prefer natural…”
“Why are you walking away?”
It was the final shoot of the day and it required you wearing a tiny tartan skirt with a white cropped shirt, Lacrosse stick in your hand. This shoot was sports based.
Harry was sat on the sofa and you changed in the small dressing cubicle. As you walked out Harry’s eyes bulged out of his head.
“You’re kidding me?” He spat, trying not to laugh in disbelief.
“What?” You hummed in confusion.
“Yeah, might want to pull your skirt down babe. It’s so short!” He winced, jaw clenched.
“The skirt is supposed to be this short.” You stated, ignoring his comments. You walked over to the mirror and sat down in your chair, waiting for the hair stylist to come in.
“Hmm.” Harry said to himself. You groaned and turned in your seat.
“Are you going to be like this all day? Because if you are, just go. I’ll see you at home.” You snapped and turned back round. Harry got off the couch and walked over to you, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“You know I’m only saying this because I am extremely jealous of the fact that they get to see you in this and I don’t.” Harry whispered into your ear seductively.
You felt yourself shiver.
“I’ll try and sneak it home.” You moaned in response. He chuckled and started to kiss his way down your neck and collar bones. As he made his way up to your jaw there was a loud cough from the door.
Harry stood back immediately and you looked at the door through your mirror, giggling to yourself.
“Come in, Linda…”
15 - “Well, you’re coming home with me whether you like it or not.”
You were at your bestfriend’s birthday celebrations in a bar.
And you had far too much to drink. Harry was talking to a few of his friends whilst you were out on the dance floor with another drink in your hand. The music was extremely loud but the alcohol was numbing the pounding in your ears.
After a few more songs and a couple of drinks later, Harry was bored. Really bored. He didn’t drink as he wanted to drive home so sitting sober in a bar surrounded by drunk people was taking its toll.
His phone had also died and there were only so many emails he could reply to without looking anti-social.
“Heeeeeeeey!” You whined to Harry as you sat next to him. He looked up at you with a smile.
“Hello my little drunk angel, how are you?” He chuckled. You widely smiled and rested your head on his shoulder.
“Amazing! I just love alcohol!” You screamed, taking another gulp of the liquid in your glass.
“Hmm, I can tell.” Harry said in amusement, resting his hand on your lower back. You were swaying side to side and he saw you place your hand on his knee to balance yourself.
“You okay?” Harry questioned you, rubbing your lower back slightly. You nodded and smiled before letting yourself fall against his side.
“The room is spinning!” You cried. “Harry! Make the room stop spinning!” Harry reached for his glass of water on the table and held it in front of you to take a sip. After you did, you hummed in relief and downed the entire glass.
“Yes! It’s stopped spinning! Bye Harry!” You squealed, getting up and going to run back to the dance floor. Harry grabbed your hand and turned you back round.
“I think it’s time to go, babe. You honestly look like you’re about to be sick.” He tried reasoning with you but you were having none of it.
“Nope. A-absolutely fine.” You gulped, feeling it build up in the back of your throat.
“Come on, let me take you to the bathroom.” Harry held you against him as he directed you towards the bathroom. You tried to escape his grip and go back and dance.
“I don’t want to go homeeeeeee.” You whined to Harry.
“(Y/N), if you don’t come home you’re going to be sick all over the dance floor.” Harry told you seriously, wanting you to get a grip instead of being so stubborn. “You’re coming home with me whether you like it or not.” Harry chuckled, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.
And it was at that moment that you ran to the bathroom and emptied tonight’s drink into the toilet. And all Harry could do was thank God that it was over himself.
125 - “Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep. Wait…are you…what?!”
Harry had woken up to his little friend being a pest. He was hard and really hard. It was actually quite painful.
He looked over at the clock to see it say 2:56am.
He then looked over at you. Fast asleep.
There was no way he was going to fall back asleep with this problem. He thought about the most disgusting things he could muster. But nothing was putting this little problem to rest.
So, he slid his hand underneath the covers and palmed his crotch, letting out a slight groan. He outlined the head of his cock with thumb and let out a little whine, trying not to wake you.
He took his cock in his hands and he works over his cock. This wasn’t unusual really. More than often he would wake up and be greeted by this. Harry was desperately close to a release until he heard you groan from beside him.
“Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep. Wait…are you…what?!” You squealed next to him. He didn’t quite realise how loud and fast he had been going. So much so he ended up kicking you rather harshly in the shin, causing you to stir.
“Harry! Not in the bed!” You grimaced, kicking him out of the bed, his cock still hard and awaiting release. He smiled cheekily before running into the bathroom.
“You are disgusting!” You shouted from the bed. And the reply wasn’t what you were expecting.
Drabble Challenge - Prompt 85 - “I’m not going to be sympathetic until you go to a doctor” Filled for @zimdan19
Thank you for the prompt, I tried to do caring Harvey for you, but it went a little more toward the dark side. I hope you like it. :)
“Mike, where the hell are you? It’s 8 am,” Harvey lectured, not even bothering with greetings.
“Mm sick,” Mike drawled into the phone, sounding pitiful.
‘Well, I’m not going to be sympathetic until you go to a doctor’, Harvey hears Rachel scold before she says her goodbyes.
“You better not be faking!” Harvey grumbled, starting to think of the enormous stack of work he left on Mike’s desk last night.
“Mm not, I had a fever last night, and my body was all achy, and now there are these weird spots on my chest,” Mike explained, yawning and snuggling back down under the duvet.
“Spots?” Harvey sputtered alarmed, “Mike have you ever had the chicken pox before?”
“Put Rachel on the phone right now!” Harvey demanded.
There was some shuffling, and a muffled yell: “RACH, you still here?” More rustling and a moment later Rachel’s terse voice in his ears.
“Harvey, I don’t have time for this, I have a test this morning, and I’m already running 5 minutes late,” she ranted.
If Harvey’s wasn’t so worried about Mike, he might have pulled her up on her attitude and given her the watch yourself speech, but time was of the essence.
“You need to drive him to the Doctor, adult chicken pox can be deadly in some people,” Harvey insisted, now on his feet pacing his office, uncharacteristically unsettled.
“I can’t,” she spat, “I have to take this test today!”
Harvey hung up on her, grabbed his coat and told Donna he would be gone all day.
Harvey lectured Mike the whole car ride to the doctor about how chicken pox can cause pneumonia, encephalitis, and even infertility in some cases. Mike tried to take his mother hen act seriously, but even Ray was rolling his eyes from the driver’s seat.
“Good thing you came in as soon as you did,” Doctor Lackett confirmed, “Because of that we can give you an anti-viral drug that should limit the severity and length of your illness.”
Harvey was smirking at Mike, so Mike did the biggest and most impressive eye roll he could muster.
“Antiviral meds three times a day, you can take an antihistamine tablet at night and Panadol if you need it,” he advised, turning to address Harvey, Keep him hydrated, and you might want to dab some calamine lotion on his spots to stop the scratching.” The doctor apparently concluding that he is Mike’s significant other.
Even in his misery, Mike didn’t hesitate to confirm that, “Yes honey, that would be amazing.” Then sat back and watched as Harvey’s cheeks turn a dark shade of pink.
Harvey pushed to his feet, “Come on then, pumpkin, let’s get you home.”
Mike grinned at him and held out his hand. That little asshole, Harvey thought affectionately as he grabbed the outstretched hand and pulled Mike out the door.
Harvey liked the feel of Mike’s hand in his, and for Mike’s part, he didn’t hold on loosely, his grip was firm and self-assured. Mike’s hand remained in his until they entered the car, Ray flicking Harvey a knowing look. Harvey directed Ray to drop them back at his condo, silencing Mike’s obvious half-hearted objections.
Mike looked at home in Harvey’s condo, he grabbed a glass of water and took his medication. Moving to the living room he selected a Steven Segal movie from Harvey’s DVD collection, and flopped down on the floor, propped up against the sofa.
Harvey changed into his sweats and joined him, instead choosing to stretch out along the sofa, his hand resting comfortingly on Mike’s shoulder and now and then pressing against Mike’s forehead to check his temperature.
As the credits rolled, Harvey noticed Mike was rubbing his back against the sofa.
“Getting itchy?” Harvey remarked.
“Yeah, I know I’m not supposed to scratch, but it’s so goddamn itchy!” Mike grizzled, upping the ante and rubbing harder, letting out a sigh of pleasure at the relief it was bringing him.
Harvey couldn’t listen to Mike groaning like that for a minute longer. “I’ve got some calamine lotion in the bathroom,” he recalled, dismissing himself.
In the time it took Harvey to grab to lotion and calm the hell down, Mike had taken off his tee-shirt and was looking expectantly up at him as he arrived back in the lounge area. There were angry looking, red blotches covering his back and chest now.
“I’m not going to give this to you am I?” Mike asked, concerned.
“No, once you’ve had them you’re immune, and I had chicken pox when I was six,” Harvey reassured as he sat down behind Mike on the couch. “Lean forward, and I’ll do your back.”
Mike bent forward and Harvey slid a hand gently from his shoulder blade, down his flank, there was no reason for the action, Harvey needed both hands to apply the lotion. Mike sighed and leant into it, silently admitting to himself that it felt amazing and for those brief seconds that Harvey was touching him, he felt nothing else.
Using a cotton ball, Harvey pressed the lotion onto each spot in thick blobs that wouldn’t dry right away; he was quick and methodical, all the while Mike was sighing and arching like a cat underneath his hands.
Harvey filled his lungs to the brink and then started blowing air over the wet lotion, knowing the cooling sensation would feel magical.
“Ohhhhh, Oh God that’s good,” Mike moaned unabashedly. He sounded like the star in every porn, ever made. “Do it again, Harvey,” he begged, head flopping back between Harvey’s legs, staring up at him with pleading eyes. “Please blow on me?” He asked innocently and then grinned when he realised exactly how that sounded.
Harvey looked down and met his gaze with a smirk. Mike was urging him to blow on him, not blow him but his thoughts had already deviated to the idea of having Mike in his mouth and even though it was a long shot, he was hoping Mike had missed him harden in his briefs, right next to Mike’s head, at the thought.
“Mike,” Harvey muttered breathlessly.
He watched Mike’s bright blue eyes morph into dark pools of lust, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he started back up at him.
“Harvey,” Mike whispered.
Authors Note: The end is ambiguous on purpose, I’d like to think that Harvey would put the brakes on because Mike isn’t single, but I also like the idea of bow chicka wow wow. Also, I’m pretty sure there are a few unlucky people that do get chicken pox more than once. This is drabble number 4/8, you can find the rest here - Millie’s Mini Marvey Musing’s. Thanks for reading and supporting me.
Request: I’d like to request an imagine with the reader and Hellboy hanging out together in his room after fighting a monster together
Hope you like it
I rolled my shoulders back and grimaced at the sharp pain. Today was not a fun day. Sure, being friends with Hellboy means that I’ll be dealing with monsters. And I’m used to that. But when you fight monsters every single day, it takes a toll on your body.
But hey, who else can save the world except for Hellboy and (Y/N)?
So the two of us just finished another fight with about ten monsters that are much bigger than Hellboy. So we finished up and decided that we’ll head back and chill out for the rest of the evening. Nothing like defeating monsters before midnight!
“Anything good on TV?” I asked falling onto the sofa in the living room. Ever since I moved in, things kind of changed. More sofas, more homey.
“Don’t know. How about you check? I’m getting some food.” He said before heading to the kitchen.
“Get me something.” I yelled before slumping into the sofa once more.
Ten minutes later, Hellboy came back with a bowl of cereal and a plate with a sandwich.
“Which is mine?” I asked.
“Cereal’s yours.” He handed me the bowl and I stared at chocolate cereal. I ate a few bites while flicking through the different channels. Nothing, nope, no thank you.
“Can I ask you something?” Hellboy asked. I looked at him.
“You just did.” I told him with a smile. He rolled his eyes at me. “What’s up?”
“It’s about Liz.”
I sat up straight, being careful not to spill my cereal.
“What about Liz? Everything okay?”
“Everything’s okay. I just want to talk to her.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“Because I don’t know what to talk about.
I shifted my position on the sofa so I sat crossed legged facing him. I thought and bit my lip. What is there for him to talk about?
“Okay, how about you ask Liz about her photographs?” I suggested.
“Photographs?” He asked.
“Yeah, she’s into photography, right?”
“Then ask her about the photos she’s taken, or about photos she’d like to take. Maybe ask her what countries she’d like to visit.” I suggested. There was a pensive look on his face as he thought. Then he nodded.
Marinette ended the phone call and quietly thanked her good fortune that she lived in a city where restaurants delivered at every hour. She checked the time. Almost one in the morning. She added another thanks to herself for screwing up her sleep schedule before she headed back into her room.
Adrien was out cold on her bed.
In identical circumstances, her middle school self would have died of a heart attack. But Marinette was half a lifetime away from adolescence. She walked over and sat beside him, carefully so as not to disturb his slumber. He’d been asleep for hours.