waiting for the rest of his hair to grow back

VOLTRON ACTOR!AU HEADCANONS (Season 3 edition)

THE MOMENT YOUVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR

warning: contains spoilers from voltron season 3

  • shiro wanted to grow out his hair for ep 5 out of spite but in the end he lost and just ended up wearing a wig LMAO
  • film crew learned never to leave the cameras on when they’re on break and actors are still on set
    • they came back and looked through recent footage and all of a sudden:
      • lance pops in the screen screaming “YOOOOO I TELL U WHAT I WANT WHAT I REALLY REALLY WANT–”
      • then followed by hunk “–SO TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT WHAT U REALLY REALLY WANT–”
      • and it just continues on with the rest of the paladins screaming Wannabe in the middle of the set
  • sven’s cameo was actually original sven
    • THE WONDERS U CAN DO WITH THE POWER OF MAKE-UP 
    • shiro cried (again) when he heard the news
  • keith broke his sword by accident once when they were filming the scence where the paladins were fighting lotor’s generals
    • IT’S THAT SCENE WHERE KEITH AND ACXA HAVE THAT CLOSE UP UNTIL ALL OF A SUDDEN THEY JUST HEAR A *SNAP*
  • pidge posted a picture of allura holding her whip bayard and just captioned it “Wonder Woman (2017)”
  • hunk: what if instead we increase the SA magnitude?
    • pidge: the spires of the castle!
    • hunk: genius!
      • lance: ha nerds
  • pidge and hunk once replaced the background music of when the blade of marmora were running w/ the naruto german theme
  • they were doing a vlog interview of the actors while on set and when it was shiro’s turn pidge just pipes up “show them the REAL shiro y’all” bEFORE SHE JUST DARTS AWAY 
  • allura’s scene where she tried to hit on Blue was unscripted LMAO
    • she actually asked lance in advance before filming what she should say
    • LANCE STARTS CACKLING WHEN HE FOUND OUT SHE ACTUALLY USED IT
  • THE PALADINS OF OLD??? MORE LIKE WORLD’S MOST KICK-ASS PEOPLE EVER??????
    • treats the new paladins cast like their own kids
    • new paladins love them to death
  • u kno who else treats the new paladins like their own kids - ZETHRID
    • tho she’s more like the really cool aunt
    • could benchpress all of them if she wanted to TBFH
  • everytime Pidge gets asked “WHERE’S MATT” she just looks for wherever he is and takes a photo of him 
    • one time she just barges into the bathroom while matt’s brushing his teeth and snaps a photo of him
    • “WHAT WAS THAT FOR–”
    • “the internet”
  • Lance: shiro pass me ur jesus wig
    • Shiro: ???? *hands it over*
    • Lance: *puts it on keith’s head* akira
    • Shiro: *STARTS SOBBING*

I’LL COME UP WITH MORE AFTERWARDS I THINK THE POST IS LONG ENOUGH LOL

ageisia  asked:

Ah, I forgot to give you a prompt, didn't I? Can I have something where Sam, Steve and Bucky all get deaged together shortly post CACW and Team Iron Man has to deal with their prepubescent shenanigans and their feelings? Like 10-12 years old and they're all little shits. Especially Steve to Tony after Tony guesses that Steve is 8, which is a mortal insult when you are 11.

I am so sorry for the lateness of this! I meant to answer it last weekend but I was still in Sinus Haze at that point. :D I had a lot of fun with this one! 

***

“They were supposed to be here for the signing of the revised accords,” Tony said.

“And Barnes was supposed to turn himself in to SHIELD,” Rhodey added.

T'Challa and Tony both looked at him, Tony’s eyebrows rising.

“What? He killed your parents, I don’t get to be mad about that?” Rhodey asked.

“Sure, but if you’re as mad as I was you also get to be in some pretty intense therapy for like a year,” Tony said, turning back to the glass window, which looked in on three children in the holding room at the Avengers compound.

“We came through an electrical storm in the jet on the way here,” T'Challa said. “When we came out of it…” he gestured at the children. Steve, an incredibly tiny, frail child, was wrapped in a blanket. They’d found clothing that would more or less fit Sam and Bucky, who looked to be on the verge of puberty, but Steve was stuck in an oversized shirt and a blanket he’d tied around his toast-rack chest like a sarong.

“You know how I know this is magic and not science?” Tony asked.

“Wanda wasn’t affected?” Rhodey ventured.

“Neither was I,” T'Challa pointed out. “We think because I was in the shielded cockpit.”

“No, I know this is magic because whoever did this to him gave him a teeny tiny arm,” Tony said, pointing at Bucky’s child-sized prosthetic, as menacing in its own way as the real adult thing.

“I think I can fix it,” Wanda said. Her eyes were glowing red, and the air was sort of dancing around her. Tony wondered how much she’d been practicing since she’d arrived in Wakanda. “But I’m worried about going in there alone.”

“For them or for you?” Tony asked, and she looked – startled, like she’d forgotten he could care about people. That was going to sting for a while.

“Both. There are three of them, one of whom has a metal arm,” she said. “And I need someone to take me down if I lose it, which…is usually Steve’s job.”

“I can go,” Tony said. “The repulsors bracelets are subtle, won’t freak the kids out. And I can distract them if you want to work on them one at a time.”

“Do you have any experience with children at all?” Rhodey asked.

“I’ll have you know I dealt very handily with the last twelve-year-old I knew,” Tony replied loftily.

***

Wanda was sitting on the floor, trying to lure Sam away from the smartphone he was playing with, when she heard Steve yell: “I’m not eight!”

“Hey, calm down, I was guessing,” Tony said, and Wanda looked over just in time to see Steve stand up, his terrifyingly thin little hands balled into fists. Tony, who was crouched down to talk to him and Bucky (probably mostly Steve; she couldn’t imagine Tony didn’t still have some…anger issues surrounding Bucky), held up his hands.

“I’m eleven! Just because I’m little doesn’t mean I’m a baby!” Steve insisted. Bucky was watching them both warily.

“Nobody’s saying you’re a baby,” Tony replied soothingly. “But – ”

“Don’t talk to me like I am one!” Steve said, and Wanda flinched as he swung his arm. He was going to break his hand on Tony’s face –

She watched, awestruck, as Tony reacted. He’d had all his weight on the balls of his feet, legs bent, body balanced over his knees; when Steve’s fist connected (barely) he threw himself backwards, sprawling and then somersaulting – gracelessly – and collapsing spreadeagled on the ground. Steve looked at his own fist, wonderingly.

“He’s down! Get ‘im!” Bucky yelled, the first words he’d said, and he sprang for Tony, landing hard on his chest. Tony let out a whuff, then curled on one side as Steve started ineffectually kicking him. Sam ran over to help Bucky pin Tony down, and Wanda got up to make sure they weren’t hurting him, but Tony was grinning as he hid his face and curled up his body against Steve’s snowflake-like blows.

Eventually Steve flopped down with the others, breathlessly giving up his assault, and Tony lay still underneath the three boys, grinning up at Wanda as she stood over them.

“Okay, you vicious little weasels,” he said, and Wanda waited for all three boys to take offense, but none of them bothered. “You are meant to be big grown adult males who could actually break my bones. Wanda needs to fix you up, put you back the way you were.”

He sat up, dislodging Sam, and then kicked his legs gently to shove Bucky off as well. Bucky clung on grimly with his metal hand around Tony’s ankle, but most of him slithered away.

“Do I really grow up big?” Steve asked, and Tony pulled him into the gentlest of headlocks, one huge palm resting on Steve’s strawlike hair.

“Bigger than everyone else,” he assured him.

“Bigger than BUCKY?”

Tony leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Even Sam grows up bigger than Bucky.”

“That’s a lie!” Bucky insisted, getting to his feet. “Make me grow up first!” he insisted to Wanda. “So I can prove it!”

“No, me first!” Steve yelled, which meant Sam insisted too, and suddenly instead of three sullen little shits refusing to obey her, she had three eager little boys all jostling to be first.

“You did this,” she said to Tony, who shrugged and rubbed at his ankle, which was starting to show a bruise where Bucky had clung to it.

“I don’t know a ton about kids but I know a lot about managing humans,” he replied.

In The Arms Of  A Stranger

God, that title sounds so wierd but I just can’t get that song out of my head?????

Deal with ME, guys, you signed up for this. 

Ayways, based on this cute small comic by @aarspi 

Disclaimer: Voltron and Fanrt don’t belong to me. 


It’s the crying that catches his attention.

Okay, no, he’s lying because after working three weeks on an amusement park, one starts tuning out whenever crying is present.

Keith has seen from young babies crying because their ice cream fell to the floor to grown-ass adults exiting the rollercoaster called The Galra.

So, yes, it’s not really the crying that catches his attention.

It’s the small body that’s crashes, quite literally, against his legs followed by hiccups and heart-breaking sobs that catches his attention.

Keith lets out a small ‘Oof’ as he recovers his balance to avoid falling on his butt. He blinks startled, phone still on his hand before he looks down and sees two big blue eyes filled with tears looking up at him.

“Hey,” he calls softly, heart clenching painfully when the small child flinches away from him when he tries to kneel in front of him, “Hey, hey, it’s okay, I just wanna know if you’re okay?”

The kid, around five years-old probably if Keith has to guess, stares at him carefully, lip still quivering with emotions as big fat tears fall from his eyes.

“I want my Wuncle Lance,” the child hiccups, first rubbing against his right eye.

“Hey, hey, careful, you don’t want your eye dirty now, right?” Keith shifts on one knee, movements slow and gentle as he leans closer to the child and hold out a napkin, “Here, buddy, use this.”

The five years old stares at the napkin in confusion, blinking owlishly at the small square. It’s adorable, Keith has to admit.

“Look, you just hold it like this,” Keith says, holding the napkin by both ends before he continues, “You place it on your nose and then you blow!” he snorts loudly, nose nowhere near the napkin but holding it near for this presentation.

He hears a small giggle and it makes him smile proudly when the kid in front of him covers his mouth in a weak attempt to hide his giggles.

“Did you got it?” Keith asks and the kid shakes his head.

“No.”

Keith shrugs. “Ah, well, looks like I’m gonna back to do it again,” he says, faking resignation before repeating his action and snorting with exaggeration, wincing slightly when he over does it but still smiling when the child giggles.

“You’re funny.”

“Tell that to my brother,” Keith jokes before he holds out the napkin again, “Come on, buddy, let me help you find your uncle?”

The kid hesitates, biting his lower lip unsure. “Mommy told me to not talk to strangers.”

“That’s fair,” Keith nods, “What if I introduce myself? I’m Keith, and you are…?” he coaches gently, while pointing at the nametag that is clipped on the right side of his chest.

“Jose,” is the shy answer and Keith smiles.

“Let me help you find your family, Jose? I promise you I just want you safe.”

This time, the child nods slowly and offers a tiny smile. “Yes, please, Mister.”

Keith beams. “Alright, buddy, up we go.”

He gathers the kid in his arms, huffing softly as he bounces him on his hip. Jose squirm slightly until he find a comfortable position and wraps his tiny arms around Keith’s neck.

“Alright, bud, where was the last time you saw your Uncle?” Keith asks, holding the kid up with one arm as he sneaks a glance towards the clock on his phone and nods to himself. He still has time before his break is over.

He looks up just in time to see Jose pointing towards their right, where the familiar area of carnival games are located.

“Good, can you tell me how he looks like?” Keith asks as he starts walking towards the direction Jose pointed at.

“He ‘s taller than me and he has like, funny cheeks because he always jokes about being a duck.” The fact that the kid says this with a serious expression, as if it was a legit description of a person, makes Keith laugh.

“That’s…well, we got some hunting to do then, huh?”

Jose gasps horrified next to him. “We are going to kill Wuncle Lance?”

Ah, great, yes, scar the kid for life, Keith, why not..


It took three minutes for Keith to convince Jose that they were not going to hurt Uncle Lance and it took another five minutes for Jose to start crying once again when there was no sight of his Uncle.

“Hey, come on now, it’s okay.” Keith tries to sooth, bouncing the kid on his arms gently, “Shh, shh, hey, we will find him, it’s okay.”

God, he couldn’t leave the kid now, there was no way. Break time be damned, he doesn’t care if he might be late for his shift, he’s not leaving this kid alone.

Keith’s starting to consider to get help from security when a booming voice stand out from the crowd, a familiar fame being shouted near them.

“José!” Someone shouts and Keith looks up just in time to see a teen, close to his age, running straight towards them.

In less than a blink, he’s suddenly taking Jose way from him, barely noticing the way the child shouts a distressed ‘Wuncle Lance’ while reaching for the newcomer with grabby hands. Keith doesn’t fight it. He lets the kid go and watches in relief as the pair hug.

“God, I was looking everywhere for you!” The teen exclaims, fear and desperation still clear in his voice as he hug his nephew tighter against him, “I told you not to wander off, buddy!”

“I’m sowwy.” Jose hiccups, sniffling and soft sobs shaking his small body as he snuggles closer to his Uncle’s embrace.

“It’s okay, I got you now, buddy. God, you’re okay.” The brunet sighs, shoulders finally dropping in relief as the familiar comforting weight of his nephew in his arms clicks inside his head, “You’re okay,”

The brunet suddenly seems to remember that there’s someone next to him. He snaps his head back, meeting Keith’s eyes easily.

“God, I’m so sorry. Thank you so much for looking out for him, uh…” he pauses slightly, eyes dropping to the small name tag on Keith’s shirt before speaking up again, “Keith. Thank you so so much, man.”

“It’s no problem, I’m just glad you two found each other,” Keith replies casually, smiling back at Lance and the brunet visually swallows, a small faint blush starting to spread over his freckled covered cheeks, “I gotta go now, though. My break is almost over.”

“You were on your break?” Lance echoes slowly, guilt already twisting inside him but Keith waves him off.

“It’s alright! I just wanted to make sure of José finding his family,” Keith smiles, leaning forward and reaching with a hand to ruffle Jose’s hair playfully, “Stay close to your Uncle, alright buddy?”

Jose looks up, a smile covering his face as he nods to Keith.

The teen nods back at him before meeting Lance’s eyes again as he steps back. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Sir!”

“Wha - Uh - Thank too? Wait, no - I mean - You, you thank - … and he’s gone.” Lance deadpans, using his free hand to smack himself in the face, “Great, that was real smooth, McClain.”

“Bye bye, Mister.” Jose mumbles quietly next to him.

“No, no,” Lance says, a smile growing on his face as he stares at the retreating sight of Keith’s back, “No bye bye, Jose. We will see him again.”

Thanks again the @sparkleywonderful for the prompt. This is my first time writing for Elorcan as well, which I actually really enjoyed. Honestly, its all just a bunch of silliness.


Elorcan: You’re like, five feet tall. How you gonna reach me shortie? 

(note: I don’t imagine Lorcan actually saying the word ‘shortie’, so I changed the wording a little)


 “Lorcan, please… it looks ridiculous.” 

Elide stood with her hands braced on her hips, looking at Lorcan brushing out his hair, or rather what was left of it. He had been sparring with both Aelin and Rowan when he had been distracted. The burst of fire Aelin had sent at him had singed off most of the hair on the right side of his face. The sheer stupidity of the situation was beyond Elide’s rational comprehension. First of all why were they sparring with Aelin’s fire and secondly why hadn’t Lorcan just tied his hair back. And on top of that, it had been her stupid ankle that had distracted him to begin with. When Lorcan sparred Elide’s ankle was left without his magical brace, so when she stood the sudden pain had caused her to wince. And Lorcan, damn him, had heard. 

“It will grow out. I’ll just leave it.” Lorcan grumbled as he stood now, his hair free from restraint. 

Elide couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she looked at his hair. The shortest section now fell just below his right cheekbone then beyond that were messed lengths of hair burnt at the tips. Luckily Rowan had reacted swift enough to prevent the fire from catching and the left side remained entirely unscathed, resting on Lorcan’s massive shoulders.

“Why won’t you let me cut it?” Elide demanded. Lorcan didn’t respond and only took a step towards her and Elide kept her stance waiting for an answer. 

“I just don’t see the point,” Lorcan finally replied, “It will grow back.” 

“The point is you look ridiculous right now with half your hair missing.” Elide used all her control not to scoff at it. “Come on, it’s not like you’ve never had short hair before.” 

Elide looked up but Lorcan avoided her gaze. Then it dawned on her. “Lorcan, you must have had your hair short before. You’re centuries old… are you telling me you’ve kept your hair in this same style the whole time?” 

Lorcan nodded, “Long hair suited me, it just seemed pointless to try anything else. A waste of time and energy.”

“Rowan has his hair short, and it makes him look quite handsome,” this time Elide refrained from rolling her eyes as Lorcan gave a slight growl. “Granted I never did see him with long hair.” 

Silence now reigned throughout the room. Lorcan still wouldn’t meet Elide’s eyes, and she knew somewhere deep inside her gut that this was Lorcan being insecure. Of all the things she assumed Lorcan to be insecure about, it definitely wasn’t his hair. She loved his dark tresses and the glare she had given Aelin has caused the queen to apologise profusely. And Lorcan was right, his hair would grow back. But there was no need for him to look as stupid as his actions that had caused it until it did. 

“Lorcan if you don’t allow me to cut your hair willingly, I will do it regardless.” 

Lorcan closed the space between so that Elide had to tip her head back to look him in the eye. “You’re like, five feet tall. How are you going to reach me?”

A glint of mischief was in Elide’s eye, “Oh, Lorcan,” Elide’s voice was barely above a whisper and it made Elide smile when Lorcan instinctively lent closer. “You forget I have friends in high places. In regards to height and otherwise.”


Prompt list is here if you’d like to send me one

Your Prince

Notes: I am so sorry it took me three days to complete this! I got home at 7 this morning, it is now 1:40 (Don’t ever work as a waitress during the holidays, especially New Year’s), and I wanted to finish this ASAP. I started over so many times and I still kinda don’t like this one. But I hope you like it, even if just a little bit. <3 Now, off to bed I go. c: I hope you all had an amazing and safe New Year’s! 

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What’s in a Name

This ficlet is part of the Claire returns early with Bree AU which begins with A Ringing Phone and a Folder.

This ficlet is a direct continuation from Through It All

My Fanfiction Master List

Available on AO3 as The Nature of Choice.

This is an Outlander canon divergence AU.

As always, let me know what you think.

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Please consider

-Keith met Matt Holt through Shiro and instantly became his biggest fan

-when it was reported that both Shiro and the Holts had gone missing, Keith had to grieve completely alone since he had never met the rest of the Holt family.

-After their disappearance is when Keith decided to grow his hair out. He already had stuff of Shiro’s to remind him of him, but he had nothing to remember Matt by

-He’s growing his hair out to look like this

-why else would he put up with a mullet while living in the middle of the desert if not to remember his idol by?


Bonus:

-Keith absolutely flipped when he first met Pidge

-He graciously waited until they were all back at his shack in the desert and had put Shiro to bed before locking himself in Shiro’s room and breaking down because what the FUCK this had to be a dream

-Shiro home and alive and a Matt freakin Holt look-alike????? In his house??????? THIS KID EVEN HAD HIS DAMN GLASSES

-the only reason Keith managed to calm tf down was when he reassured himself countless times that Shiro was real and breathing and tangible and viciously concluded that the kid out in his living room was a message directly from the universe saying “FUCK YOU AND YOUR HAPPINESS, HERE’S A DOPPLEGANGÄR”

These Games We Play 2

Summary: Ivar awakens the Reader to have her join him in a game of chess. The question is what does he get if he wins?

A/N: yes, there will be a part 3 if your wondering.

Warnings: brief mentions of fingering, NSFW, language, manipulation

Word Count: 1,134 


Part 1

The sun had just began to rise, your room was full of silence with a faint chill. You were asleep. Dreaming of the crippled prince and his hand that traveled delicately up the inside of your thigh. You flinched and let out a quiet moan as images of his fingers brushing against your clit filled in the darkness behind your eyelids.

You became soaked. It felt real. It could have been real because at the moment you were in the great hall and you were feeling the tip of his finger press into your entrance.

“Y/N, wake up!”

You looked at Ivar with furrowed brows. He sounded like Freya. The middle child of the people who took you in.

“What?” You asked quietly.

“I said wake up!”

You jumped awake with your heart pounding in your chest. Freya stood by your bed, watching you with curious eyes. 

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Brian has seen Danny die upwards of a hundred times since they became, in Danny’s words, best friends. It lost its novelty somewhere around the fifth time. Danny always came back in a matter of minutes- sometimes seconds- as good as new. Brian learned to shrug off these little incidents the same way Danny always did. They became practically routine. Something to take in stride. Something, even, to take advantage of if Danny decided to be particularly annoying at any given time.

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Confident

Originally posted by marielgum

Summary: This was from the fluff prompt list: I just shaved; feel my legs.

Warnings: hints of smut, but not really.


It was quiet when Dark arrived at your apartment. Naturally, he let himself in and decided to read one of the many books you left lying around. He could hear the shower running, so he figured waiting for you to get out would be best. Dark had left you a week ago to attend what he called a business meeting, and you hadn’t pressed further on the matter. The fact that your boyfriend was the embodiment of darkness itself was enough for you, so you let him be as long as he stopped by every once and a while.

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Mercy’s Nightmares

Did I ever tell you guys about my headcanon of Mercy getting really bad nightmares when she’s pregnant? No?


Gency. Pregnancy. Fluff. Angst. Hurt/Comfort.


They usually appear after bad missions or a day of remembering things that shouldn’t be dwelled upon, but it keeps occurring steadily now. Nearly three times a week. Vivid dreams of blood and losing him to the fog he always escapes into. The crumbled concrete wreckage of the Switzerland headquarters stains her brain like black ink.  

It’s her hormones, she determines. Pregnancy alters many things in a woman’s body, it’s not unheard of to have strange dreams and nightmares.  

They just seem to stick with her long after she has open her eyes.

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anonymous asked:

I have a fic request! I noticed after Ending B 9S gets really protective of 2B and tries to stand in front of her a few times during the assault mission. When you go in his room during the credits, he talks in a gentle voice, while showering 2B with power up items, money, and tells her to be careful. So, I have this headcanon that they had sex after Ending B and that's why he was acting like that toward her. Would you be willing to write another lewd fanfic of these two again? Thank you!

({Analog})

(Once again, I’m doing the dirty and this time I’m like, fuck it, I’m sin mother and this ship is mine to steer. No real attention was put on the “how” in this one, however. Androids have genitals now; deal with it.)

-Tumblr formatting legend: * = italics -

Her gloved fingers brushed along the side of his face, judging the reality of his existence by this simple set of light movements of leather against artificial skin. Her knuckles curled as they ran over his cheek, a finger tracing his chin and, after a moment of slight hesitation, following the shape of his lips. His shaking breath parted the plump skin, his cheeks lightly dusted with blush pink.

She realized that this moment was something he didn’t expect and wasn’t something she had planned. It was born of a spontaneous desire to assure that it really was him and not another formatted version she needed to learn to love again.

“2…B?” He finally ventured when her fingers finally came to rest against the shell of his neck. She looked down but only saw the blackness of his visor, not the deep, dark blue eyes his model type was equipped with. His voice caught, embarrassed.

“Yes?” She prodded. 9S adverted his gaze even though he couldn’t see her eyes behind her visor. She raised an eyebrow, inviting him to voice his thoughts.

“…I…um,” he took her hand in his own. He gripped her smaller, delicate yet deadly fist in his own as if debating allowing her to fight this internal war with him.

N-not now.*

“Thanks.” He gave her a soft smile, a smile she could could see past with no assistance.

She wasn’t going to push him, not now anyways. This wasn’t the time, time that was running short. At any moment, Command would give an order that would possibly divide them and she would never get this opportunity again.

So she ignored it and gently separated their hands, moving hers to press against his chest before leaning forward and bringing their lips together. The cool and firm skin yielded against hers, warm breath mixing as they each tested the boundaries of what they could do behind the closed door of the room the Resistance had given them. She felt the steady hum of his systems underneath her palms, growing in confidence with each beat before tugging that the buttons of his coat. 9S froze and swallowed, unsure of how he should react or use his hands as they rested uselessly at his sides.

He didn’t have to wait for long before his chest was exposed to her hands, which tugged urgently at his skintight undershirt. Her tongue pushed against his lips, looking for any sign of entry into his mouth as one hand slid up his back and entwined itself in his hair, nails pressing on his scalp.

She felt her pulse rate spike as they gave into the simpleminded desire coursing through their systems, blood pounding in her ears. A combat model, she shouldn’t feel this nervousness. Yes, she was bold and confident but that was in a situation where breaking the other person was perfectly acceptable and the desired goal. 9S wasn’t a person she wanted to hurt, even accidentally.

Gently, she pushed against him, causing him to rest on the bed, her palms on either side of his head. Their lips had came unglued during the transit; 2B panted, a small trail of saliva of unsure origin slicking the skin as she stared down at him. His cheeks and ears had become a shade of red that could only be described as “adorable”, his mouth just as lewdly askew as hers.

She stared down at him, attempting to gage his reaction to what had transpired before. Everything about him urged her on, begging her to keep going, including the obvious stiffness in his pants that was growing harder as movement aroused them both.

Still…she reached behind his head and undid the knot of his visor, pulling the obscuring black fabric from his eyes while doing the same to herself. His eyes, despite being artificial optics with wires and no soul behind them, were the most expressive part of him. One look into them told her everything and sealed the consent she needed.

Granted, she doubted that what she saw behind the thick veil of lust and desire was that look in his eyes she knew and feared. It was that look that was always followed by a swift betrayal in the form of a sword through his chest. He knew something and he wanted to tell her, but he was still searching for the right time and that wasn’t now, thank the God she still believed had abandoned her.

His coat and undershirt were urgently pulled off to silence her own thoughts on that terrifying subject. He couldn’t speak those words if his mouth was occupied with hers, his hands flush against her backside.

She could feel her own body heat rising, the fabric of her undergarments and clothes becoming too tight and heavy for her to bear. It felt similar to a buildup of reactor heat before the inevitable self destruction, her neither regions throbbing with sweltering, wet need.

“9S.” She separated their lips to gaze into his eyes again. He took the hint surprisingly well, but she didn’t doubt the label of “high end” attached to his model type. His logic systems worked far and above hers, able to solve these kind complexities when his own sheepishness finally died. He undid the near invisible buttons right at the side of her chest, the black fabric of her shirt coming loose before falling from her shoulders and arms and onto the ground. His thumbs trailed over her bare skin, tugging at the edges of her leotard to get to more of that smooth flesh he just wanted to feel*.

He visibly twitched when he felt her palm slide along his crotch, fingers grazing his member. One dragged against the damp tip, playing with him mercilessly as he panted uselessly against her mouth. “Ah…a…2B.” She cupped her hand around his length, the leather of her glove smooth and molding to his skin.

They moved against each other, losing clothing and inhibition. Underneath all the layers was bare skin, soft, peachy and a layer of untouched sensitivity. Other loosely regulated YoRHa members spoke in not-so-hushed tones about doing this very selfsame thing all the time around the Bunker, but 9S himself had never been privy to the practice. The way 2B moved for them though, her hands firmly planted on either side of his head and hips hovering above his crotch, broadcasted experience he couldn’t match. A tiny, jealous part of him wondered who else had the undeniable honor of witnessing her lewd and bare, the part also wondering what happened to them. He hadn’t even been inside her and he knew she felt as breathtaking as she looked when her eyes were low and her cheeks red with the effort of restrained sounds.

Keeping the theme of control firmly in her hands, she lowered herself onto him, hissing as she twisted the sheet in her fingers. His systems flushed with heat, his back arching at the sudden but welcome feeling that rushed through his nervous systems.

Who could possibly give this feeling up? After a moment, her hips began to rock against his before they became full thrusts, rapid exhales leaving their mouths in synchronized shallow breaths of air. What kind of idiot would let her go?

She had done this before. With him. Of course, he doesn’t remember, but she knows where he’s weak, the spots he didn’t like to be touched and the way he moved.

He hadn’t changed. They hadn’t wiped him away…and for that, she’s glad. It’s a small consolation prize for the suffering she will soon bring down onto him, pleasure before pain.

She wondered if it was worth it.

Inside, she was capable of burning him alive, smothering him in the greatest way possible with crushing, dominating force. Her slick muscles held him firm, wet, hot and…shit, he’s burning and his blood is boiling in his veins.*

He pushed against the bed, going against her weight to sit up with her in his lap, her head on his shoulder. She followed his lead, wrapping her legs around his back, tightly holding him flush to her. Fuck, it felt too good.* Her head throbbed, processors firing in overdrive as it all began to dull into one feeling of never wanting to stop*. If she didn’t stop…if they never stopped…

“Ngh…ah…ah.” His tongue fought a losing but heated battle with hers, warm saliva trailing down her lips. 9S moaned as she curved her back to allow for deeper penetration and closer contact between them. N-no way he was going to live through this. The way she rode him so desperately, so hungry for him and…well shit she was heavier than him and she wasn’t being gentle. If he broke his new body though, it was a hell of a way to go.

*Man, 21O is gonna be pissed…“how did you break your body again?” “I got fucked by a combat android and I learned that being on the bottom is dangerous to my health yet really awesome.”*

No way in hell he was going to tell anyone about this.

“Don't…don't…” She licked her lips and gasped for words. “Stop…thinking.”

*Just do me one favor please*, she wanted to beg. *Don’t do this to me again.*

Her nails dug into his skin, trails of red left in her wake. The pain was nothing compared to the all consuming pleasure, a mere inconvenience in the face of something he needed if he was going to be strong and…was he really going to tell her? He trusted her with his life, but his own mind was in shambles with what he had learned from digging where he had no right. Was he really going to doom her to the same fate? Was that fair?

“Stop thinking,” that’s what she had demanded.

Losing himself in her, in the feelings she drew out of him, was far better than the truth.

They had been called back to the Bunker and separated by circumstance, preparing the mission that would hopefully end the war. Adam and Eve had been destroyed, leaving the machine network venerable.

This was their chance, and yet *their chance had past. She came to his room one last time, the air heavy with knowledge and tension. His skin still smelled of her, his chest marked by thin cuts. It was fresh, the feeling still raw in his mind.

What could he say…? He was pathetic when it came to her. All he could do was give her a gift and words heavy with barely repressed affection and love.

Maybe…maybe when this fight was over, they could run from YoRHa no matter the outcome. They could escape together, become rouges and relocate where Command could never find them. He could research machines and she could fish and…and…

Was it…selfish? Was this what she wanted? Did she still want war or did she want the same peace he did? Was he only doing this for himself?

He had no time to answer. The mission came first.

Her hand lingered on his shoulder, as if she wanted to say something else, do something else, but nothing came to her.

“…Be careful, 9S.”

There it was, the frigid love he so hated. He wanted more warmth, more heat, more of the genuine person she was, not the soldier façade she put up.

“You too…2B.”

He would tell her. No matter the outcome, she deserved the truth.

Colored Pills (Richie/Eddie) 3/5

Definition of Amaranthine

1: undying

2: dark purplish-red

Summary:

Edward Kasprak has no friends, and this does not surprise him. Richie Tozier has 5, and that surprises everyone (Except all of the friends who love him and would do anything for him.) Eddie’s mom cares too much, Richie’s too little and both of their fathers are gone in some capacity or another.

In a life stuck in black and white, their mental health both in tatters, colored pills are supposed to save them.

But maybe, if they try hard enough, they can save each other instead.

Warning(s):

Bad Language, depression, mental illness’, ANGST, fluff, homophobic slurs, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt

A/N:

Hi, so this my first tumblr fic, and I’m excited slash nervous. If anyone wants to ever be on a taglist, I am willing to add. Comments are so appreciated. This is also if Pennywise was never real, and the boys are 17. I really hope you like it, and I hope I post this right because I have no clue what I’m doing. Thank you!


The two sides of the room were so different amount the boys, even when Richie wasn’t there, his side was still messy. Eddie wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to move or touch anything even though the look of Richie’s side of the room was such a disaster.

Eddies side had no thing out of place, and Richie remembered how long it had taken him to do that.

He remembered sitting there, on his own bed, as he watched Eddie work for 3 hours, scrubbing, moving, working.

Richie couldn’t imagine what it was like to live with something like that, where touching people and looking at messy things made you fall into a panic attack.

As for what Eddie had seen, it was much less pretty.

Sure, most of the time, it was easy to forget Richie was bipolar because most of the time he just seemed like the same happy Richie he had always been.

But one day, at the early hours of the morning, Eddie awake to yelling.

At first, he was confused, but then he turned his head and saw Richie, on the ground, surrounded by the nurses. Eddie turned his whole body around and stood up to getting a better look.

And there was the boy who had become his best friend, practically the only person he talked to in the past month other than the other losers briefly, the doctor, and the kids in group when he had to.

Richie Tozier was laying on the ground, his head bleeding, and the security wire on the window was covered in blood.

Richie had tried to stick his own head through the window, and he had failed because the window was bulletproof glass, but from the amount of times he had hit it against, he began bleeding.

And for the first time in his life, Eddie had the urge to run towards a mess because his best friends blood was surrounding him and he was unconscious.

But Eddie didn’t, he let the doctors and nurses work, and he stood back in tears, covering his mouth and he really had no idea what was gonna happen.

The first thing he did after they wheeled him out of the room was write a letter to Bev.

He told her what happened and he told her how he felt about his best friend trying to kill himself, and he told her about the puddle of blood on the ground, and he sent the letter off.

You see, before the incident of that night, both sides of the room had been clean because Richie knew how much the room being clean meant to Eddie.

But the night Richie tried to kill himself, he had thrown everything everywhere and he had been yelling.

And Eddie didn’t hear it.

He didn’t hear a damn thing.

But now?, Now Eddie’s ears were ringing and he was screaming and Richie was gone and his world was gone, maybe forever and why did this hurt so bad?

But it hurt because every feeling he denied was real

ANd he was in love with Richie.

But don’t tell Eddie, because he would never be able to handle that news because then things were messy.

Although maybe he wouldn’t mind messy so much, as long as Richie was the mess.


Eddie walked into the visiting room, and he looked drained.

All of the losers stood up at once, and he took one look at them before starting to cry.

Beverley immediately moved forwards and pulled him into a hug.

Normally, Eddie would have freaked at the touch, and even now he wasn’t exactly comfortable but at the same time, he needed someone to hold him as he cried because his best friend was in the suicide ward.

He had tried to kill himself, and Eddie didn’t know how to take that.

He could have died, right next to Eddie’s bed, and he would have been able to do anything about it because he didn’t even hear him, he just slept and slept and let his best friend smash his head against the window over and over and over.

“It’s okay Eddie.” Beverly soothed, pulling him down next to him on the couch.

They sat like that, him in her eyes, for what felt like hours but had been mere moments.

She pulled away and then moved away from him to give him space, and he was thankful for that.

He pulled out his hand sanitizer and just began rubbing.

The room was shouting around them but the group was quiet, watching as the young boy began rubbing so hard it was almost like he was trying to get rid of his own skin.

“E-Ed-Eddie?” Bill muttered, looking at the pale boy but he ignored him so Stan moved forwards in front of his face, careful not to get too close.

“Eddie. Stop.” He said. Eddie looked at Stanley and then realized that his hands were now red because of how hard he had been applying his hand sanitizer.

Eddie then looked at the group, all of whom were looking at him, and he was hyperventilating.

“Eddie, it’s alright honey, breath. Richie’s alright, he’s fine and you’re fine.” Beverly told him, sitting up closer to the boy.

“I slept through it,” Eddie said out of nowhere.

“What?” Stan asked, still in front of him.

And Eddie was broken, but he had been broken before he arrived here

“Those damn black and white fucking pills. They make me sleep, and I slept right through him smashing his head against the glass until he almost died. I slept through him yelling, and throwing things. He needed me, and I slept.” Everyone was quiet, and Eddie was so tired because he hadn’t slept in days. “And now those damn pills aren’t working, and I can’t sleep, because I’m afraid of what could happen. And everything is covered in dirt and nothing feels right.”

No one knew what to say.

“I just want my Richie back.”

Yeah, Eddie was broken before he had come here but now, he was shattered.

Those damn pills, they had ruined everything.

They had ruined the whole world.


“How about you, Eddie?” Dr. Maturin asked, looking at him. Eddie looked out at the group of kids sitting in a circle around him. He frowned and looked at her. “How are you doing today?”

“I am doing terrible. I miss Richie, and my room is messy and I can still feel his blood on our floor.” Eddie replied, figuring it was useless to lie. 

“We can move your room if you’d like,” Dr. Maturin told him, but Eddie shook his head. 

“I don’t want to move my room, I want Richie back.” Eddie told her, and he was starting to get annoyed. The doctor looked at him with a soft smile.

“Richie will be back in your room tonight.” The doctor told him. 

Eddie stopped, and slowly looked at her, a smile growing wide on his face.

Eddie spent the entire rest of the day waiting, staring out for Richie, unable to stop smiling

Richie was allowed to come back to him, and he was gonna sleep in his own bed and he was gonna be okay and Eddie wasn’t gonna let anything happen to him.

He had been without his Richie for six days.

Alone for six days.

Eddie sat on his bed late on the sixth night, and he was staring at her door, and he then saw it.

That mop of curly hair that Eddie had fallen in love with so fast and he didn’t know why because it represented everything that Eddie couldn’t stand.

Richie walked through the door, and Eddie stood up.

“Hey there Ed’s-“

But Eddie had fallen against him, pulling him into a hug.

And they both jumped back.

Richie and Eddie looked around and They were breathing heavily, and they were wide-eyed.

And Pennywise waved, ballon in his hand.

The red balloon, and the Richie could see it was red and Eddie looked at the pills on the table and they weren’t black and white but multi-colored.

And the boys both knew this. Because now the world was in color.

Richie looked at Eddie.

“Oh fuck.”


TAGLIST: @edsrich @reddie-is-canon @to-obsessed@jamespottev @exceededexpectations  @eddies-inhaler @mbates12 @welcometotheoceanofno @caterpillars-of-the-commonwealth @the-losers-club00 @blackslipons  @all-my-reddie-fics @temptedtozier @howellhxlic  @tastefulcaring @anniewdoodles @simply-pink16 @plutaars @jerome-valeskalaughs @nirraein @crazybunny02-blog @ahyesfandoms @secondtimethecharm @velvetinetears @beep-beep-gazebos  @cassiejaydee

@buttonfanatic @rockdemonwo
Not Dead Yet (Part 34)

*Well I had a feeling this was what was going to go down when I asked for suggestions. When in doubt do the nasty!*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warning: language, smut


“You know, I thought this was going in another direction when you said you were ready.”

“Yeah, ready for breakfast.” I sat down at one of the tables. “Is it a problem that I’m hungry?”

“No, I am too but my appetite is for something other than a poorly made inn breakfast.”

“Let me guess, it’s sitting right across from you?”

“Stop guessing what I’m going to say.”

“Only when you stop being predictable.” I looked around but the inn was a ghost town. Last night it had been packed, where had everyone gone? It wasn’t even noon yet. “Where did everyone go?”

“I figured this might happen.” Peter reached behind the abandoned bar and pulled a loaf of bread and wheel of cheese that was hiding under on one of the lower shelves. “People are so easily frightened.”

“What did you do?”

“Snapped someone’s neck. Not important why.”

“Peter!”

“Don’t give me that look. I had a perfectly acceptable reason.” he broke off some bread and tossed me the loaf, “At least we know no one will disturb us.”

“Codfish.” I caught the bread and bit into it. “Anything to drink?”

“Well there’s some mead back here.” he grinned picking up a bottle.

“Ha ha, something else please. Anything else.” Peter pulled a pitcher of water out and two glasses. “Thanks.”

We ate in silence, the din of the town outside bustling from the open windows. A couple people came in unaware of any danger. Others saw Peter and turned right back out the doors. “What exactly did happen last night?” I asked, “I know you killed someone and I have the feeling I was a bit of an easy target but that’s not all, is it?”

“It doesn’t matter what happened.” He picked at some dirt under his nails, “Now if we could retire back to our room. I believe I have a favor to fulfill.” He pulled me up off my chair and started heading back upstairs.

“Peter,” I followed shortly behind, “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because this is one of those instances where ignorance truly is bliss. Can you accept that?”

“I believe so.”

“Then for once in your miserable little life, listen to me. The details of what went on last night that you can no longer remember are no concern of yours. Even if they were, those details are now dead.” he held the door open for me, “May we?”

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Word (Bad Boy!Jimin as a Father)

Plot: #05. “Was that a word!?” + #06. “His/her first word better not be a damn cuss word!” + #17. “Why are both you and the baby crying?” + #52. “Do you think I’ll make a good mother/father?” with bad boy!Jimin as a father

Word Count: 1389

A/N: so I’ve actually done an entire series on this concept (click here for part one, it’ll have the links to the remaining parts) of bad boy!chim as a father bc I’m a sucker for anything bad boy!BTS and anything father!BTS so combining them???? Good deal that’s a 10/10 concept right there, the link for this will be bad boy!Jimin (here) and father!Jimin (all of the father related posts are here)

He had never really thought about having kids until he had one. He had never sat down and thought about what type of father he would be, whether he would be strict, the best friend, over protective, whether he’d be a father at all. He spent too much of his time at parties, surrounded by his friends and people he didn’t know and wouldn’t remember in a few hours, to be worried about fatherhood. His life was about his amusement and getting through college in one piece, that was it. He didn’t have many responsibilities outside of a few essays he could whip together in a few hours, due to the intelligence he somewhat hid, and a few hours of work a day. After that, he was free.

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Red (soulmate!Michael imagine)

Summary: A soulmate AU in which you only receive the full spectrum of colours when you meet your soulmate (pls i suck at summaries but it’s good i swear)

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Flufffffy Michael bc who doesn’t love Michael tbh

Originally posted by dimplelashton

Masterlist | Have any feedback?


Michael’s sight has been black and white for as long as he’s been alive. 

Ever since he was a little boy and he was moved into the ‘colour impaired’ class along with twelve other students, he’d been taught about the impact of soulmates. He was told that when he met his soulmate, someone who understood him like no one else, he’d get to see in colour.

Across the country you’d heard a similar lesson but, instead of being promised colours, you were told of the deep blacks and crisp whites that would grace your eyes the moment you touched your soulmate.

To Michael the whole concept of having a soulmate felt like some kind of sick joke. There’s over seven billion people inhabiting the earth and you’re supposed to find one person? It sounded impossible.

But, when his bandmates started to receive the full spectrum of colours as they met their soulmates, he began to collect a yearning feeling inside his chest. It was as if only now he was realising what he was truly missing.

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Limerence - Chapter IV

Limerence Masterlist

Characters: Sehun and OC (Ursula)

Warnings: This series contains mentions of assault, sexual violence, and stalking.

Word Count: 3.2k

Note: To clarify something before this chapter starts, seeing as it may be confusing, when something is in italics it is that person’s inner thoughts. More specifically, something they are saying to themselves. In Sehun’s case, when something is in italics and enclosed in ‘ ’, that is the different sides of his mind talking. Think of it as his conscience arguing with the side of himself that is growing more obsessive as time goes on, if that makes any sense heh.

Limerence:  The state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person, typically experienced involuntarily and characterized by a strong desire for reciprocation of one’s feelings.

I woke up the next morning feeling more rested than I had in days. I ran my hand through my hair and pulled the covers off of me. Wait… Covers? That’s funny. I don’t remember covering up last night. I know I pulled my covers back, but I never actually covered up. I looked around my room to see if anything happened to be out of the ordinary. I noticed my closet door was now shut when I am almost 100% positive I left it cracked open last night. Maybe I am just misremembering things. I picked up my phone to look at the time, 8:02 am.

I went downstairs and turned the coffee maker on. I didn’t have to work, so my entire day was free. I didn’t have a whole lot planned, but I did plan on going shopping at the mall later on. I started working a lot more, so I decided I needed a day to spoil myself.

I made myself a cup of coffee and made my way outside and sat on the swing like every morning. I noticed Sehun and Delilah walking down the road, probably coming back from a walk around the block. I stood up on the porch and called out to him, “Well good morning to you early bird!”

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I Have Your Records ;; th

a/n: i got this idea listening to Patsy Cline, specifically her song She’s Got You. let me know what your thoughts are on this!!!

warnings: literally none, other than a lil angst and extreme fluffiness

;;

We shared everything. When we moved in together, the thought of separation never entered our minds. How could you separate us when we were practically the same person? Always seen together, hardly apart, feeling exposed when his fingers weren’t intertwined with mine. That feeling of emptiness and void whenever we went home to our own separate flats was unbearable.

There wasn’t a better option than having a slumber party every night with Tom. The fact that I got to wake up to him softly rubbing my back instead of his ringtone in the morning was bliss. No longer did I have to drive home in the dark on those late night hangouts or pack my toothbrush when I came over. When we got tired, we didn’t have to leave, we just went to bed together.

And though space didn’t seem like it was apart our vocabulary, it became one of our favorite words. One of us always needed space or privacy. Some days I would spend my time rearranging our books upon our shelves to stay out of Toms way. Or, he would play a movie we hadn’t watched in a while to try and steer the topic away from our earlier argument.

One of our favorite things to do was to visit flea and farmers markets. Though the produce and vintage collections at these places were always better, we kept an eye out for more specific items: records. When I had moved in with Tom, I brought along my old Crosley Cruiser with my very small collection of vinyls. Tom was fascinated with the record like a child fascinated with a hot stove or putting inedible objects in their mouths. He would put a record on and would play it all day long. And when we ran out of “new” records to play, it was his mission to head out and find another to add to our collection. Very soon Tom and I both owned the record player.

Though the record player was originally mine though, Tom had bought the majority of the records. So when we split, I didn’t take the cruiser or vinyls, I left them on the corner table of the living room. I hoped they weren’t just collecting dust and imagined Tom goofily dancing around in his socks to ABBA’s Greatest Hits. I hoped he was sharing the songs with whoever he wound up with after to me.

But that wasn’t the case, because months later after our breakup, he was at my front door. In his hands was the milk crate of all our vinyl records on top of the cruiser. With the amount we had collected during our relationship, the weight of them must’ve been uncomfortable in Tom’s arms. So, I kicked the door open wider with my foot as I gathered the heavy crate in my arms and walked into the kitchen to set them down. Tom followed with the cruiser in his arms, setting it on the counter.

“I hope you got a few extra spins out of them, kinda the reason I left it.” I smiled sadly in his direction as I ran my finger through the thin layer of dust along the spine of a record cover.

He looks down, his lips pressed in a firm line as he mumbles, “Couldn’t listen to ‘em without you. Didn’t feel right, I guess.”

I chuckle with no meaning and clasp my hands in front of my waist, staring at him, “I see you’ve met someone new.”

Someone new and pretty and fit and intelligent. A girl who by now had probably taken the left space on his bed where I always slept because Tom felt more comfortable on the right. He probably watched The Office reruns with her while he dozed off the sleep with a dopey smile on his face, too tired to laugh but still listening to the funny dialogue. Let her wear one of his large hoodies and let her paint his toenails red and gave her piggybacks when she was too tired in the morning.

Things we always did.

“Hm?” He hums, looking in my direction. His face had tanned since I last saw him, but there was a lack of brightness in his eyes that I couldn’t help but remember before, “No, no one new. Just hanging around with Tess is all. She misses you.”

A wide smile creeps across my face at the thought of him being single, but I scold myself silently at the thought of being so selfish. I nod, rubbing my arm as I respond quietly, “Me neither, I mean, I haven’t found anyone yet. I miss Tessa too.”

Tessa was the glue that kept us together for so long. If it weren’t for her our relationship would have most like ended much sooner than it had. She was constantly brightening our moods, bringing us together and laughing, causing the bickering cease to exist. It only last for a while though before I was in another, leaving Tom alone.

I sigh in the silence, smiling in his direction, “Well, thanks for dropping these off, I know they will definitely be playing around here.”

He didn’t seem to be taking this well but he nodded anyway, walking towards the exit. I followed, something both of us always did with each other. When one of us was leaving, even if just for an hour, we would wave goodbye at the front door and keep waving until the car was out of sight. Opening the front door, a sick feeling came to notice in the pit of my stomach. The butterflies that seemed to grow normal had turned into stones, cold and heavy. He steps out onto the porch, standing and looking down at the car parked on the street. He doesn’t turn, I assume he doesn’t want to, and start to slowly creek the door close.

But then he turns.

“I miss you.” He blurts, running a hand through his hair and allowing it to rest on the back of his burning neck.

He looks up at me sheepishly through his eyelashes, his eyebrows pointed upward, waiting for my response. I stand, one hand on the door knob while the other rests on the wood. My mouth is slightly agape, and my eyebrows both cocked up, being shocked by his words. I close my lips, then open them to only shut them again. I was at a lost for words.

What am I supposed to say? I do miss him, but do i miss him enough to get back together with him? Truty is, i don’t know.

Memories of hammocking in the springtime and having bonfire parties in the fall come through my mind. All the good times we had cuddled up together with a blanket or reading books aloud to each other only because we loved each other’s voices. All the many good times that came before the bad. The times that were a sea of happiness, causing tsunami to overtake my capability to form words.

Small road trips during the summer down to the beach and celebrating birthdays. In the winter, meeting each other’s families at Christmas dinners and new year’s eve parties. I missed his family. The fun times I’d spend with his younger brothers, who felt like mine, or sharing secrets with his mother who treated me like one of her girlfriends. Did he miss mine? How my father never shook his hand but hugged him instead, or my mothers long, drawn out stories about my childhood. What about my siblings? Always competing to tell the best riddle or trivia fact.

Random times he would hug me from behind, causing me to gasp and shriek loudly if he’d scare me, while i was fixing a meal or brushing my teeth. How when he would sit down, he’d move my legs to make them lay on his lap and rub over my kneecaps. When i was reading a magazine or working on my laptop, he’d come behind and rub my shoulders or try to braid my hair yet desperately fail every time. Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, and good night kisses.

I miss the “darling"s and "sunshine"s and the random "love"s he would call me, especially when he wanted something. I miss playing with his curls, and helping him choose an outfit when he was indecisive. Or helping him cook breakfast and making the bed with him.

I miss the records. Watching him moonwalk to Michael Jackson and then slow dancing to Simon and Garfunkel. How when we would dance to the Beatles early hits we’d always accidentally step on each other’s toes. A record we’d always listen to would sound crackly and worn, letting us love it even more.

"I-” my eyebrows knit together in indecisive frustration, I nibble at my lower lip, overthinking my answer. It was obvious, “I miss you too, so much.”

Mid-sentence I step out onto the porch and he pulls me into his arms, the familiarity of them helps me relax. I place my hands on his shoulder blades, resting my chin in the crook of his neck. His arms twist even more around my waist and he buried his head into the space where my shoulder and neck connect.

“Scared me for a second,” He breathes, kissing softly at my collar bone, “Thought you were never going to answer.”

I swallow thickly before pulling away, twirling some of the curls at the corners of his face, “Can we listen to a record.”

He smiles wide before leaning in and pressing a kiss on my lips, molding into a perfect fit before pulling back and resting his forehead against mine. With a nod he smiles, whispering, “I’d love to.”

Verdict: Part 4

Notes: alright here it is! havent wrote smut like this…Graphic smut, fluffly. 

Tags (it added some for me so thats cool, if you want to be tagged for the next part, message me!) : @redstarstan @fifi1433@banieldryan@christiestevenson@ccallie-mariee @imanhunter @laurenxyz@canikeepit-imkeepingit @buckytheplumfairy @han35@starstar1012@a1lucidity @yellowtheremarvelfan@dipdies@piercethemelendez@skyfullofharrystyles@trashybuchananbarnes@theavengerthatbringsthesnacks @michellelynne87@sebastian-stans-thighs @slice-of-calum@allyp1023 @candykittykat @krisay @re2d2 @wine-and-space-donuts@catcherintheclifford @allygabriela @wsternhaikus @animeroses318 @unlikelycupcakequeen @tg1297 @your-reflectionn @carabarnes13@sebastians-thighs-of-betrayal @whiteangelheart @givemegiggles @mizzzpink@mrs-lamezec @lottieeeeeeeee @dontstopwiththelyin @slickblitz @isaxhorror @amf71010 @incoherentli @buckysteetime @ashtotes @damnbuckyishot  @trylenawinchester @xunicornwhovianx 

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