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winkofcharm · 3 days ago

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Spinning, Spinning, Spun - Chapter 1

Please help me, this is far longer than I expected it to be lmao.

Batfam x Reader {platonic} [Previous]

Barbara Gordon is simultaneously the first to notice, and the sort-of last to know.

It begins as most nights do for her, preparing for her shift as Oracle, waiting for you to send over the photos of the day. Scanning through the reports, planning out the routes each Bat would take, keeping an eye on any sort of forum, social media, police report, etc - that might drop a hint for what criminal activities may be planned for the night. It was a familiar pattern, one she had held to for years, even before she joined The Family.

She’d known for as long as she could remember that she wanted to be in law enforcement, and since she was strictly forbidden from joining the GCPD by her Dad, what better way than this?

First as Batgirl, fighting along Batman and Robin - being brought into the fold, into the family. She even remembers the first time she was brought into the batcave, and became aware of the men behind the masks; The Bruce Wayne, The Dick Grayson. She was going to work with the legends she modelled herself after. The ones who inspired her to take up a mask, to hit the streets of Gotham, and fulfil her dream. But it wasn’t just the two of them, was it? There was their butler, Alfred Pennyworth, former military, hyper-competent, and a master of what he did. And then…there was you.

Barely a toddler, not able to comprehend what was going on, even if you wanted to. You were a cute kid, for sure, but she didn’t really know much about kids, and wasn’t interested in learning either. She had more important things to do, and yeah, she felt kind of bad brushing you off whenever she stopped in during the day, but that’s what Bruce told her to do - and at the end of the day, he was your dad, and had the final say. If she ever was curious about who exactly was watching over this child while She, Bruce, Dick, and Alfred were all preoccupied, then it was only a fleeting thought before refocusing on the job at hand.

She watched you grow in glimpses and glances. Sighing a breath of relief when Bruce told her you were in on the secret, and letting another when he mentioned you wouldn’t be involved. By the time you were told, she was already Oracle, and balancing another vigilante would be stretching herself a little too thin. You learning the secret, also led to her seeing you less and less. And if she were completely honest with herself, it was a solace, a weight off her shoulders - one less person she needed to lie to.

It became so much easier once you started leaving The Manor, she didn’t need to worry about running into you, and the awkward greetings that would follow. Barbara could get right to work, without needing to censor any discussions or plans. Anytime you were home, you seemed to get the hint quickly and make yourself scarce. The contact was minimal, until Bruce came to her with a request.

You were getting popular on social media, and with that popularity came risk. Risk of people getting too curious, of not just your safety, but the others safety being compromised as well. So a plan was put into motion.

Every day, at 5pm Gotham time, you would send over any pre-planned posts and pictures, and Barbara would scrub them clean of meta-data. She would cross-reference any details regarding the rest of the family, making sure the timelines of events stayed consistent (though, she admits, you were pretty good at that already - and getting better at covering your own digital tracks. It seemed almost redundant to have her backtrack over everything, but who was Batman without redundancies?). Then, once satisfied, she’d send them back, and you would post at predetermined times.

For the last five or six years, this system worked. You were always punctual, provided the few times you were late due to scheduling conflicts with the regular time, but even then, you always let her know ahead of time. Until this time, that is.

5 pm, 18:00, 5 in the evening - came and went, and not a text, or dm, or email in sight. Maybe you were busy, maybe you were sleeping? You were in Hong Kong, possibly on your way elsewhere at the moment, and time zones could be tricky at best - but you never missed the 5pm cutoff.

And honestly, she may have been the first to discover your disappearance, if she hadn’t been immediately distracted by a new thread on the Gotham subreddit. An unconfirmed source, one she needed to follow up on asap, claiming a grumbling in the underground - a rumour, unsubstantiated, but all rumours regarding any of the rogues needed to be followed up on.

Thus, your lack of contact went unappreciated, and unheeded.

The second to notice, and the first to inquire, was one Stephanie Brown.

Steph - as she insisted to be called - was probably just as active in the realm of social media as you were, even if she wasn’t quite as popular. She never really got the invites to collaborate and create as much branded content as you did, but she didn’t really want that. She was okay with being “Gotham famous”, where people who were chronically online may recognize her out and about, but she wasn’t being hounded. Not like you were, and that was perfectly fine.

She didn’t want to be as famous as you, hell, from the few times you actually made conversation, you didn’t want to be as famous as you are. The first time Wayne Enterprises pushed for a collab between you and her, you had been so... so…something.

You had been sat beside her in a boardroom, the company PR team presenting why it would be so great for You, at the time the only known biological Wayne heir, and Steph, at the time girlfriend to their youngest ever CEO, to run a series of posts together online to promote brand engagement and blah-blah-blaaaaaaaaaah. Meanwhile, Bruce and Tim sat opposite her and you, nodding and agreeing with whatever business talk came out of the team's mouth.

She also remembers nodding along, even if she didn’t understand what they were saying. It wasn’t like either of you were going to turn down the proposal, especially since it was coming directly from Bruce. She “uhuhed” and “okay’d” at all the right times, and you…you just sat there.

You never even really looked at her, and Steph recalls how angry that made her. How you glanced over her once before looking away (before looking down) and never really looked back at her (never looked back up). She thought you to be stuck up and rude, some bratty kid living rich off their daddy’s money. It wasn’t until later, when you actually were working together for a supposedly “candid” photo opportunity, that she realized you were just quiet and a little awkward.

In person, you were a complete 180 from how you presented yourself online. Online, you were confident, bold, clever and witty. In person, you shrunk into yourself. Shoulders hunched, eyes looking anywhere but forward - until the camera started rolling and then, then you transformed. Shoulders back, eyes forward, smirk playing on your lips. You went from random nobody, to someone who couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than the child of Bruce Wayne.

It made her curious, and for Stephanie Brown, curiosity was dangerous.

She started by asking Tim about you, but he couldn’t give any more information than she already had, and even then, some of it seemed to just be about the online you - not the real one. When pushed, he got frustrated, and ended up starting a small argument.

“Does it matter? All you have to do with them is pose for some pictures - it’s not like they do anything else.”

And didn’t that set Stephanie off. You were a person, more than an online presence - so she and Tim didn’t speak for a week, until you had left town again, and the reason behind the argument semi-forgotten.

Then she made the mistake of asking Bruce - and fuck, wasn’t that one of the most terrifying conversations (could it even be called that?) of her life. She tried to play off her questioning as small talk -

“Man, they’re completely different in person y’know. I expected them to be just a rich kid, but -”

Bruce cut her off. He hadn’t even been looking at her at first, but the moment he realized she was talking about You, his head had whipped around at her. His eyes hardened, his face twisted into one she’d only seen before aimed at lowlife thugs. Stephanie could feel the fear creeping in, her palms starting to sweat. She had made eye contact for just a moment, before casting her eyes elsewhere. Why had he reacted like this? She just wanted to know more about his kid. She didn’t think that was wrong - how could it be?

“All you were to do was a job. They’re to be left alone outside of that.” She tried to defend herself, mostly out of surprise, but Bruce wasn’t having it. Anything she spoke was met with a cold and stern:

“Drop it.”

So she did. For a bit. The next time you were in town, and you were asked to work together again, she tried to bring it up again - and Bruce got even angrier. She ended up benched, and if she had to choose between you and Spoiler?

Well, she didn’t know you that well. And Spoiler, Spoiler was always going to be more important.

Even after she and Tim broke up, you played the part of her digital bestie - and she would catch glimpses of the real you, the you no one else had seen, whenever she could. At one point she realized she knew more about you then the ones purported to be your siblings, and it sent her into a spiral. At best, you were coworkers, and she knew more than the people who were supposed to know everything.

It helped that you posted several times a day, everyday. And sure, a lot of it was the fake influencer bullshit, but sometimes you’d sneak in the truth. Those were the posts she went out of her way to like and repost. She learned your favourite colour and favourite hot beverage in the same post, and made sure the next time you went out together for content, that it was prepared correctly, in a mug of your favourite colour.

The small smile that lit up your face was perhaps the first real smile she had seen you make. And if it made her heart flutter, well, she kept that secret close.

So it became a habit of hers. To scroll through your posts everyday, except today -

You hadn’t posted anything. Not a thing. Nothing on twitter, on instagram, on snapchat, on tiktok - nothing. She refreshed each one multiple times, just in case, and kept switching between platforms, just in case.

It set her on edge. Made her stand a little straighter - and then - the panic set in as she recalled -

You queued everything.

You queued your posts for up to a week out at a time - meaning while there was nothing made public today, you hadn’t posted anything for the last week.

So Stephanie did the only thing she could think to do, and went to the only person who might know more and be willing to share.

Alfred.

Thus Alfred became the third to notice, and the first to know.

He remembers when you came to the manor. How little you were, the power of your lungs as you cried out into the world. A cry that would, if he were honest, barely ever be answered.

Barely two weeks old, and already being forced to learn how cold the world is - he tried to apologize for it, but how could he? Nothing could replace what had been lost, nothing could replace what would never be given.

Your mother had died in childbirth, or shortly after. The timeline wasn’t quite clear, but she had enough time to list one Bruce Wayne as the father on your birth certificate. Something neither he or Bruce had expected - let alone the call that came from the hospital, requesting someone come pick you up, lest CPS get involved. Bruce eventually relented under that threat, wanting to avoid any sort of government digging, but only if a DNA test proved you to be his child.

The Hospital agreed, and two days later, the results came back positive. You were his, and he was all you had. They refused to allow Alfred to collect you, no matter how hard Bruce pushed - he had to be the one to pick you up. So Bruce brought Alfred with him, and the moment he laid his eyes on you, he was yours. You were, in Alfred’s opinion, the most valuable thing in the world.

Bruce, his ward, his son in every way but blood, to Alfred’s disappointment, did not agree. There was no time for an infant, not in his crusade. Despite trying his best to care for you and Bruce at the same time, Batman’s schedule made it impossible.

An infant needed around the clock care, and if he was in the Batcave watching over Bruce and Dick (who hadn’t even been told about you - didn’t even know you were there in the manor, having been put in the nursery wing at the far end, where your cries were only to be heard by a nanny no one had bothered to hire), then there was no way for him to watch over you - there was more than one morning you woke covered in your own mess.

Alfred at least got Bruce to agree to hire a Nanny after the second week. He refused to have the Nanny in the main house, however. And how was that supposed to work anyway? Another person, poking around Wayne Manor with all its secrets? Bruce would never stand it.

The solution broke Alfred’s heart, even if he agreed it was for the best.

A country house, unused since the days of Thomas and Martha Wayne, and a Nanny, paid an ungodly sum and handpicked by Alfred himself for her silence and skill. Off you went, nearly two hours away, out of the grasp of Gotham and its shadows. The Nanny they had hired was instructed to send reports every week - written and verbal. The written reports went to Bruce’s desk, with any requests for new furniture, clothing, toys and other expenses were signed off on and sent back. The verbal reports? Those were Alfreds.

He was kept up to date with every milestone, from learning to turn yourself over, to your first words and steps. The Nanny mentioned more than once she was worried about how quiet you were, how hesitant to ask for anything, from physical needs to emotional ones - and it hurt him to hear. You were a Wayne, the world would be at your fingertips, nothing should be out of reach - except, perhaps, your own family's affection.

He assured the poor woman that the quiet was normal, that Bruce himself had been a quiet baby before exploding into a vibrant child (until reverting back after the alley). He did insist, as you grew older, that you would be brought into the phone calls. How delightful it was to hear you, even if it was just a few scattered words.

Years passed like this, until suddenly you were at the cusp of puberty. And Bruce had no choice but to bring you back into the main house. The Nanny who had raised you, who you clung to for all your needs, was ready to retire. Alfred was the one to convince him to let you back, Dick was leaving, and he couldn’t imagine the Manor without some sort of childish light. Perhaps you could even get to know your father, grow close to him, and never be sent away again.

How futile a wish.

You never stood a chance.

Alfred went himself, to collect you. Your sparse belongings had been sent ahead, having arrived in the Manor two days before you had - and had been placed once again in the nursery (though the crib had been removed, and replaced with a large four poster bed - curtains in your current favourite colour, and ready to be replaced when you changed it).

You were polite and proper in your greetings, exactly as you were raised and taught to be. A firm handshake, your tiny hand in his - something you should have learned from your father, but was taught by a stranger. You remained silent the entire way home, looking out the window as the countryside changed. And Alfred couldn’t help but look back in the mirrors, and try his hardest to memorize everything about you.

He should have known better. He spoke to you, as you approached the grounds, how your father was waiting to meet you (and held back on speaking about Dick, if only to ease the blow on how your father would rather raise a child that wasn’t you). He had thought Bruce would do the right thing and be waiting to greet you, as he had been raised to do whenever family arrived, so when he finally pulled up to the front doors and Bruce wasn’t there, he felt ashamed. He apologized for your fathers faux pas, and you just brushed it off - claiming you understood how busy he was.

He would later find Bruce in the Batcave, with Jason Todd in tow. He would scold Bruce privately later, for doing all the things he had expected him to do with you, with Jason instead. A tour of the manor, showing you your room, introducing you to the history of your great family - all things Alfred had done instead.

It was Alfred who helped you adjust, who prepared you for your new role as a Wayne heir. It was Alfred who introduced you to Jason, upon escorting you to the library and catching him there as well. And it was Alfred who went and yelled at Bruce for allowing you to assume you were like the others, an orphan taken in by a wealthy patron.

It was an innocent question on Jason’s behalf, one he apologized for immediately after -

“Did Bruce take you in too?”

And you turned to Alfred, unsure how to answer - he could see the words of affirmation forming in your mouth, the questioning furrow of your brow, before he cut you off -

“Young Master is Master Bruce’s child by birth, sir.”

“Oh! Sorry! I’m really sorry, he just didn’t mention anything and I just assumed, and I’m rambling, I’m sorry.” The embarrassed blush that bled onto Jason’s cheeks was probably the only thing that saved him from a scolding for asking such a question, along with your own response:

“It’s okay, you didn’t know - “ and thus your introduction was awkward and stilted, but at least you might finally have someone else by your side.

He should have known better.

He told Bruce of your meeting Jason, of the conversation you’d had, and how for a moment (perhaps much longer) you had thought yourself another ward, hadn’t been assured that the Wayne family was, in fact, your family. And While Bruce never addressed your feeling of lack of belonging - he did stress that you and Jason were to be kept separate, as much as could possibly be done.

Alfred verbally agreed, and mentally decided to make sure you and Jason spent as much time together as possible without Bruce noticing. Which proceeded to blow up in his face when Jason, in the midst of a visit from Dick, inadvertently blew the whole secret sky high.

You never told him of what happened that night. Never looked at him again with trust in your eyes. Never reached out to Jason, or Dick, or even Tim when he arrived. You locked yourself further away, kept to your room outside of meals and school. And Alfred, if he ever heard you crying to yourself, pulled back; never acknowledged the damage done. How could he? In supporting the others, he had failed you.

You lived as a ghost, and when you started leaving the manor more and more, he hoped you would move on. That you would grow into a person all your own, without the shadow of your family. But you never completely broke away - how could you? When they started finally pulling you in, in a grotesque semblance of a relationship that was never really real. It made him sick to his stomach, seeing you on the cover of Teen Vogue , purporting an interview about how great your siblings were. Siblings you hadn’t spoken to in months, hadn’t seen in even longer.

Then Stephanie Brown took an interest, and Alfred, remembering how badly things had gone before when Jason had taken an interest, kept it to himself. Passed on what he could recall of your likes and dislikes, of your habits and rituals. So it wasn’t necessarily surprising when she called to ask about you. He paid no mind to Stephanie pushing for him to call you, gave the excuse of wondering when you’d next be in town, and that she’d tried to text you but had gotten no response. So he did. No answer, straight to voicemail - your phone was apparently turned off.

“Please leave a message after the beep - “

Generic, he was hoping you had changed it by now, but clearly, he’d have to remind you again. But before the beep could go off, his blood chilled.

A laugh.

Not a laugh, a cackle.

Familiar, and cruel - on your voicemail message, on your private phone, and one all too recognizable.

The Joker

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taglist: @holybatflapexpert @electricgg @xoyumiqls @holderoflostmemories @sleeptimes @galaxypurplerose @sassam

(apologies if the tag didn't work, i'm new to this ;3; )

#batfam #neglected reader #batfam x reader #batfamily #reader insert #writing fanfiction #fanfiction #spinning spinning spun #batman #barbara gordon #stephanie brown #alfred pennyworth

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ofstarsandvibranium · 2 days ago

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Given the World

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x GN!Reader

Summary: You like to bring little souvenirs for Bob whenever you travel for a mission.

Marvel Masterlist

You and Bucky were assigned as security detail for a senator in Hawaii. Being part of the new Avengers, you expected various kinds of missions, especially when Val was the orchestrator of the group. Being part of security was the tamest mission you could receive and you were gonna be in Hawaii for a month? Easy.

What wasn't going to be easy was leaving Bob.

You and he were in this weird kind of limbo. You two started off as friends, then the more you hung out with each other, you became best friends. Then, on a random night where you two were cuddled up and watching a movie, you two kissed and confessed your feelings for each other.

You two never put a label on it, but you were together. You didn't say you were exclusive, but you were. There were times you wanted to have the "what are we?" talk but every time you got close to it, you chickened out.

Yeah, you can punch, stab, and kick your way out of any situation, but feelings? Fuck. Feelings were hard and you didn't know how to navigate that.

But still, you tried to show Bob your feelings through other means, and that was through gifts.

Bob still wasn't cleared to go on missions, so he had to stay at the Watch Tower while you and the others travelled all over the world, helping people.

You brought him various keychains, mugs, plushies, books, etc.. You'd take pictures and send them to him. Anything to show that you thought of him.

Now with the Hawaii mission, you started thinking of what little things you could potentially bring back for him.

Even now, as you pack and Bob watches you do so from your bed, you think of him.

"Maybe a book? You said you liked history so maybe I can find a book about some of the local history? Oh!" you look at him with bright eyes and a smirk, "What about a coconut?"

He snorts, "You wanna bring me back a coconut?"

"I'm trying to think out of the box here! I'm trying to stray away from all the keychains, mugs, and magnets-"

"I like all of my keychains, mugs, and magnets."

You sit at the edge of your bed with a pout, "I wanna try to get you something different."

He softly smiles at you and scoots closer to sit beside, "I'll love whatever you bring back for me. Even if you don't bring back anything at all, knowing that you want to bring me back something is enough. You know I appreciate you regardless."

You nod and let out a deep exhale, "I know, but I always feel bad about leaving you here. I want you to experience everything I do."

"I will eventually. Once I get my powers in control and don't let the other guy out, I'll be out there with you, defending senators and civilians alike."

You snort and lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder, "At least I'm going with Bucky. Aside from you, he and I get along the best." You then move away, heading back to your open suitcase on the floor.

"A month long mission with a handsome super soldier in paradise. Yeah, that's the dream right there," Bob says it with a playful smile, but you see it in his eyes: the insecurity.

You look at him with a sad frown. You hate how ingrained his self-doubt is in him.

"I promise you, nothing will happen."

He clears his throat and nervously rubs his hands on his sweatpants, "No yeah. I know. It was just joke."

"Robby," you say his nickname softly as you approach him again, sitting on his lap. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and you stare into his eyes, "I'm interested in no one but you. I have feelings, really strong feelings, for no one, but you."

"I know," he replies softly and he looks away in shame, "I'm sorry." He takes hold of your hips to help ground himself.

"I understand. It's okay," you give him a quick kiss on the lips, "I got you."

"I got you," he repeats back to you.

You both rest your foreheads against one another and sit in silence. You listen to his breathing, you feel his fingers dig into your hips.

"I love you," he whispers, "and if you don't feel the same, it's okay. Because I'll still love you even if you don't love me."

You chuckle, "How can I not love you, Robert Reynolds, when you're all that I think about? Is your collection of souvenirs not proof of how much I care about you? Doesn't matter if I'm one mile away or one thousand, you're on my mind and being away from you for a month is going to be hell for me."

His lips perk up into a small smile, "Is it bad that I kind of find it comforting that you'll be as much as a wreck as me when you're away?"

You throw your head back in laughter, "Absolutely not."

His laughter joins yours and you feel yourself feel lighter. You suppose feelings aren't that scary after all.

____________________________

Bucky smirks at you as you and he follow Senator Collins and her husband around Aloha Stadium. It's a free day for the senator and he and her husband wanted to do some touristy things around the island.

You and Bucky follow her along with her regular security detail. However, your attention is divided between work and all the different trinkets you can buy Bob. Already your tote bag is filled with some funny t-shirts and a hat woven from palm leaves.

Bucky found it amusing and adorable how often you were straying from the group to buy something new for yourself or Bob.

"We're supposed to be working."

"I'm paying attention!" Your bag looks even heavier now.

Bucky snorts, "You trying to bring the whole island to him or something?"

"Gift giving is one of my love languages. Leave me alone."

"Love, eh?" he cocks a brow at you, "So you two made things official official?"

You nod, "He said it first. He was feeling insecure about me being here with you for a whole month. I reassured him that I'm not interested in anyone but him and then he told me he loves me."

Bucky grimaces, "He thinks you and I-"

"I know, right. As if you're not madly in love with Sam."

"...I'm not madly in love with him."

"Suuuure, Buck. Anyway, all of this," you pat your tote bag, "is just me bringing back some of the world to Bob, because he deserves it."

The super soldier chuckles and shakes his head, "You two are disgustingly cute."

_________________________

You dump out two tote bags filled with gifts for Bob. He looks at the pile on his bed and then at you, "Honey-"

"I was on an island for a month and they had cool things! Look," you hold up a palm tree figure, "I know you don't smoke anymore, but this is a palm tree bong and I thought it was hilarious. So I bought it for you."

Bob looks at you in confusion and amusement, "I-Well alright then."

"I swear that's the weirdest thing I bought for you. Everything else is pretty tame."

Bob grabs a t-shirt and unfolds it. He snorts and reads it, "'I got lei'd in Hawaii'?" He laughs and tosses the shirt onto the bed, "You're lucky I love you, because that's horrible," he says pulling you to sit on his lap, "Thank you though. I appreciate all the gifts and I'm happy you're back."

"You're welcome and same. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but here with you," you peck his lips and hold him tight.

Bob will never tell you, but he thinks the best thing the world has given him, was you.

#bob reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x reader #bob reynolds imagine #marvel imagine #marvel fic #bob reynolds fic #robert reynolds fic

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minkieater · 2 days ago

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wait omgg ,,, mingi headcanons pls like fwb IM FEINING RN ,,, foaming at the mouth

SAY LESSSSSSS. i got carried away. its mingi. my bad fr

fwb!mingi who’s always your first text in the morning and your last text before you go to sleep

mingi who’s been your friend since your freshman year of college, who’s had his eye on you through your long-term relationship with your ex, who was the first person to console you after he broke up with you, completely by chance, he just saw you on campus and you spilled everything

mingi who made an effort to get closer to you after that, asking you how you are, if you want to hangout, completely friendly until it’s not

mingi who took you out for drinks, got you just buzzed enough for the lock on your lips to loosen, to tell him all your dirty little secrets, and he was disgusted to find out that your ex never made you finish. did he even realize how lucky he was to have you?

mingi who let you sober up a bit before he put his moves on you for real, who told you it was okay that he makes you finish for the first time because you’re friends, and that’s what friends do!

mingi who took you back to your place and laid you out on your pink and plush bed, all sweet words and careful touches, and took his time with you. open mouthed kisses up your calves, thighs, sweet pecks to your hipbones before he showed you exactly what you were missing

mingi who had you begging for him by the end, he made you cum twice, you couldn’t possibly let him stop there. if he could do all of that with his mouth, what could he do with his cock? he slept soundly beside you after a bath, an arm hooked around your waist, his face nuzzled in your hair, giving you warmth and comfort that you weren’t expecting

mingi who couldn’t quite leave you alone after that night, and you’d be sick to your stomach if he did

mingi who had to be touching you every time he was near you, it didn’t matter who saw, from your friends to your professors to your classmates. if mingi was close to you he was connected to your hip, a hand over your shoulders, around your waist, a finger slipped through the belt loop of your jeans

mingi who was over your apartment every single night, fucking you through the mattress, toying with you in the shower, waking you up the next morning with a face between your legs like he couldn’t get enough

mingi who would bring your favorite snacks over if you were feeling shitty, or if you were on your period. he called you every sweet name in the book, princess, my love, angel, beautiful, and would peck you on the cheek when your face flushed in embarrassment

mingi who started leaving tee shirts, hoodies, pairs of boxers scattered around your apartment, always saying he’d pick them up later, always an excuse to come back, not that you’d ever deny him. he would just add to the pile that was quickly growing, throwing his shirts wherever they landed when he walked through your front door, pressing his lips to yours

mingi who would sigh under his breath, a slight groan when your palm ghosted over his jeans, “fuck baby i missed you so much” he’d fuck you slow just as often as he blew your brains out, holding you close to him as he steadily rocked into you, an arm under your back and another holding your head, pressing open mouthed kisses to the column of your neck, “you’re so beautiful, so perfect for me”

mingi who made space for himself in your life, who was comfortable in the routine you two created, never asking for more, never talking about more

mingi who confused you more than anyone ever has in your life

mingi who laughed it off when yunho asked if he was going to make things official with you as you sat around a bonfire, all of your friends and their partners present

mingi who was confused when you stormed off in the house, but didn’t follow you. he was even more confused when you never came back out, damn near lost his mind when you wouldn’t answer his calls

mingi who came over your apartment to see what the fuck was going on just to be met with your pretty, pouting, tear soaked cheeks. he couldn’t help but ease all your worries, whispering praises and soothing words into your ears as he rocked into you, while reminding you all the same that all you ever were to begin with was a friend

you who let the routine reset, allowing him in time and time again, because at the end of the day he was honest, and even if you didn’t have all of him, you had some of him, and that was more than none of him at all

masterlist

i hope i did fwb mingi justice 🫣

#ateez #ateez x reader #mingi ateez #song mingi #ateez mingi #mingi x reader #mingi smut #mingi angst #mingi #mingi hard hours #mingi hard thoughts #mingi scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours #mingi x y/n #mingi x you

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chiming-bluebells · 2 days ago

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༘⋆ ꙳ what’s in my satchel? . . . fantasy dr edition! ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ˚｡

˖˙ ᰋ ⋆ ˚ ⊹ യ *◞ ˚ ꕀ .*

is it cursed? is it enchanted? perhaps even haunted? who knows. i put a spell on it myself during one of my lessons in magical studies… you decide whether that’s a good or a bad thing.

MAGICAL SATCHEL ꕤ the appearance & its quirks.

my satchel in my fantasy dr is one of my most prized possessions; custom made by some of the most talented weavers in terabitia,, and brought with me everywhere.

it is woven with golden threads and crafted with the finest of indigo-stained velvets. it’s embroidered, intricately beaded with crystal gemstones and freshwater pearls, and decorated with gilded charms and tassels. also!! it chimes like tiny bells where it sways in my hand!! (i feel like a magical fairy)

as previously mentioned: it is enchanted. meaning: it is made to carry just about anything without running out of space or growing too heavy. perks of being a sorceress, i suppose.

the inside has multiple compartments for multiple purposes. let’s go over them!

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᨳ

i , FIRST COMPARTMENT ꕤ practical, anything i might need close at hand.

◞ silver dagger : not so much for protections sake, but more so for paying my respect and showing my gratitude. i was gifted the dagger by a sailor i had known in a previous life. i carry it with me everywhere.

◞ coin purse : for when i’m visiting the marketplace (i always make sure to buy at least one pomegranate)

◞ journal : i cannot go anywhere without carrying something to write or draw on. so, naturally, i have to bring my journal with me wherever i go.

◞ enchanted fountain pen : no ink needed. just intention and a little bit of belief.

◞ hip flask : filled with water (let’s hope)

◞ wrapped bonbons : i might’ve mentioned my sweet tooth once or twice before.

◞ map of terabitia & neighbouring kingdoms : i already know my kingdom like the back of my hand… but, you know, just in case!!

◞ lighter : you never know when you might need one.

◞ hand desinfectant : is the year currently 998 A.D. in my dr? yes. is hygiene still a thing in said dr? absolutely.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᨳ

ii , SECOND COMPARTMENT ꕤ anything beauty.

◞ seashell compact : containing tinted lip balm made from beeswax, rose petals, and honey. the gilded seashell compact was a gift from the merpeople of the sinking islands. the compact is also refillable!

◞ tiny glass vial of perfume : a perfume bottle carrying my favourite signature fragrance. portable and practical.

◞ hair comb : with sturdy metal teeth to brush through my tresses.

◞ folding mirror & powdered blush : cute. foldable. practical. every girl’s best friend. the compact also includes a powdered rosy blush and powder puff, for good measure.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᨳ

iii , THIRD COMPARTMENT ꕤ items of a sorceress on the go.

◞ deck of tarot cards : as adviced by kamaria. she wants me to practice using them whenever i have the chance.

◞ raw black tourmaline crystal : for protection.

◞ drawstring pouch : made out of silk and contains amethyst and clear quartz, labradorite and moonstone, and some dried wildflowers and herbs.

◞ tiny glass vial filled with moonwater : charged moonwater on the go.

◞ a golden key : but where does it lead? or does it even lead anywhere at all? that’s a secret just for me!

inspired by this post by @eddieisashifter !

#chiming ⊹ bluebells #lexi’s fantasy dr #lexi’s ⊹ realities #desired reality #reality shifter #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifter #shifters #shifting #quantum jumping #loassumption #law of assumption #shifting antis dni #shifting blog #shifting community #shifting diary #shifting motivation #shiftingrealities

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ga-lily-o · 2 days ago

Text

Love, Actually

Mark Grayson x (gn) Reader

Tags/Warnings: coworkers to something more // soft boys in food service// fluff // Reader character has not seen Star Wars // Takes place before Mark gets his powers // Mark calls the reader pretty/gorgeous in his head

Summary: It’s just another shift at Burger Mart. Bad lighting, long hours, and an embarrassingly cute coworker who lights up your whole world.

(Author’s note below)

Working at Burger Mart is the bane of Mark’s existence. Or no, that might be getting bullied in high school, or getting in trouble for breaking something he shouldn’t, not having powers like his dad— regardless, it’s definitely up there. Top 10, or 5, depending on how awful the customers are that day. But you? His favourite, pretty coworker? You’re the reason working here is not higher up on the list most days.

Things could be absolutely hectic and stupidly stressful, but just a glance your way could have his heart lighting up like the lights coming on in the cinema as the credits roll. A shock of something bringing him back down to Earth, just enough to realise he’s been standing there like an idiot with the fries for a minute too long. The managers don’t like it, and that certainly doesn’t bode well for him, but the way it makes you laugh? Worth every verbal warning.

Today isn’t like that yet though, thankfully. Only a few customers in smaller groups walk in as the sun dips into the horizon, the distant humming of machinery and offhanded beeping the backdrop of the scene as you and him wait by the till. Or, well— you man the till, and he’s sweeping around it. Supposedly.

He’s kind of distracted just chatting away with you, watching the way the emotions colour your face, breaking through the exhaustion and Food Service facade like light cracking through the blinds. You’re more gorgeous than he could ever put to words even here under awful lighting in this dingy fast food restaurant. Like a freckle of life in the vast empty ocean of linoleum floors and fluorescent lights.

“Wait,” he says, leaning against the counter with his eyes crinkled into a grin, “You’ve never seen Star Wars?”

“Not the whole of it,” you correct, messing with the till absentmindedly just to have something to do with your hands, “Like— I’ve seen the first one?”

“Of which trilogy?”

You make a face that tells him you absolutely do not know, humming as you narrow your eyes in uncertainty. “The one with Darth Vader…”

He’s grinning at that, unable to help the way a smile splits his cheeks as he asks, teasingly, “The one with Darth Vader?”

His heart actually needs to be studied for the way it skips a beat when you nod, smiling like you’ve got the answer right when even he can’t tell which one you’re talking about. The words are shaded in quiet laughter as he prods, “Are we talking about the prequels or the original trilogy— because he’s in both, just… very different.”

And goodness, the way that same expression finds its way back on you, eyes narrowed and lips pursed in a way he wants to kiss you for, before you’re looking at him through your lashes and he can barely stop the fluttering in his chest.

“The… original,” you start, absently nodding to yourself as you break his gaze, “‘Cause my friend was saying something about showing me the prequels after, but we never got around to even finishing the first three.”

That makes him giddy, because suddenly he’s thinking of being the one to introduce you to the rest of the series, asking you over to hangout maybe— before the front door’s bell rings, and you straighten up at the till. He goes back to sweeping, having to move away, but he’s still thinking about asking you as he shoves the broom between bolted down tables and booth seats. Not knowing you wanted to ask him if he would watch them with you; that you felt giddy in much the same way about him.

—————

Neither of you muster up the courage for the rest of that shift, not with the way the late rush hour comes swiftly like a boxer ready to win— a one-two punch via the bustling crowds coming in through the front and the number of cars going through the drive through. Working there bumps itself up again near top 5, but when he glances over at you… he finds it settling itself easily at top 7 instead.

His hands find purchase along the counter on either side of the till as the last of the customers from the rush file out through the front, and a calm starts to settle in the Burger Mart. Mark sighs, breath coming in from the lowest of his lungs and out, though he really should have breathed in before glancing over your way, because he almost feels winded.

“I’m gonna die if I have to keep doing that,” you groan, hands on the empty part of the counter with your face tilted down, and he can’t help but agree. “Like, actually just crumble into dust like they did in Endgame.”

Mark’s surprise settles in with an easy smile despite the exhaustion in his bones, “You’ve seen Endgame?”

When you finally look back up at him, deadpanned but amused, his heart almost wants to beat itself out of his ribcage with the way you still look so beautiful to him, “Everyone’s seen Endgame, Mark.”

“I mean, I thought everyone’s seen Star Wars but—“

“I’ve seen the first one!” you argue, laughing right after, your expression crumpling into something light and joyful, and his heart hurts with all the fondness it has for you. That he has for you.

Then something shifts, for a second, because Mark thinks again about asking you to watch the rest with him, even though he’s seen those movies to near exhaustion. All just to see the way you light up or crumple or rage at the plotlines, washed in the colour of the screen. A bated breath, eyes averted, before he turns back to you just to find you turning back too, the tension in his shoulders snapping into something nervous that buzzes under his skin.

“I—“

“Do you—“

You both shut up at the same time, like you’re stars in Love, Actually and not just two minimum wage workers exhausted at the till after a rush.

“Sorry you—“

“No, I’m just, you go ahead—“

God he’s so nervous, he’s hearing his blood in his ears as much as he’s feeling it warm his face. It helps that you look nervous too, in much the same way he feels, and hope bubbles up as you open your mouth, close it, and breathe.

“I don’t watch movies well, alone,” you start, nervous and hesitant, but you power through, “So… I was wondering if maybe you’d watch them with me?”

He can’t help the way he freezes for a second, long enough for the hopeful expression on your face to crumple just the slightest bit before he catches himself, the words quick out of his mouth and a little louder than he expected, “I’d— I would absolutely— Yeah, of course.”

Someone, anyone, please shoot him for the way he just stuttered so hard. He actually wants the ground to swallow him up whole, but the way you light up like the first firefly of the night makes the embarrassment burn softer, makes the courage swell in his heart until he’s speaking again.

“I have— I know where we could watch it, like, on the tv I mean, if you don’t mind coming over to mine?”

And god does he want to print the way you grin at him into his mind; sear it into the neurons there like the world’s best tattoo.

“I’d love that,” you whisper, and suddenly working here isn’t all that bad.

A/N: I have not written anything like fully in… give or take a while, so my writing’s a lil rusty and this took more than one draft, but I really had fun writing this one!! I forgot writing could be so fun!!

This might not be accurate to the American Food Service Experience™ But that is because I am Canadian and work in Canadian Food Service 🙂‍↕️ Mark might also be out of character, but that’s because I have not finished the show, or comic 😊

Also, tagging @sobbingscripter!! Thank you for the idea for the fic!! And for the title!! I WOULD have named it Double Whopper with Cheese medium combo otherwise I’m ngl

#mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #mark grayson x you #invincible x you #For the animated borders check this tag:#credits #gn reader #lee’s writing

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elodieunderglass · 2 days ago

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Ok, so Bren’n’Blaw have been riding shotgun with me at work this morning and I’ve got questions.

What did they think when Bill married Helena? Did they like her? Do they think she’s good for him? Bad for him? TOO good for him?

Not that she would ever need help making or disposing of a body, but I assume they would help her, if only for her family’s sake. But does Helena like them?? Does she know about the mutual murder pact between the B’s?

Also, I assume they’re versatile fixers. In the normal course of things I wouldn’t think a dead body would turn up more than once every other year or so. In the offseason, do they help fudge financing at tax time? Do they hunt down deadbeat dads and encourage child support? Are they the scary but competent but no you were right the first time actually unnervingly scary people at the horse auctions you never try to scam?

Oh dear, I’m so sorry, what a pair of shifty hitchhikers!

When Bill was courting Helena, she set him some quests. Sure, he made her feel safe, and she fancied him in a weird way that grew on her, and it all represented a massive two fingers up to her parents; but she was still lowering herself to marry him, and figured she might as well get some errands done. Helena does not mind about the crime. She thought this was a relevant perk.

Bren’n’Blaw helped with the quests. They have very little sense of what is normal, and at the time, were painfully loyal to Bill. They knew Bill wanted to marry and raise a brood of champions, so they buckled up and trotted off to slay Helena’s dragons for her. That’s probably what women like. Who knows. Despite their fascinating personal lives they are not romantic themselves.

They did not like Helena being English. They were unfazed by her snobbery. They admitted that she is very pretty. I don’t know if Helena converted to Catholicism or was an outlier for her time and place and class who already was, but surprisingly, that wasn’t something Bren’n’Blaw actually cared much about.

She, in turn, understood their utility, but disliked everything else.

When the twins arrived, and Helena discovered she didn’t like them, and Bill was working two jobs across two countries before fully retiring from being a jockey, he naturally deputised his henchmen to look after the babies. Blaw and the Saint were simultaneously very good and very bad babysitters (“baby want smoko” / “put baby in pelican mouth” level of bonkers, but physically surprisingly capable of keeping babies alive, and cheerfully interested in doing so) and they pressed the rest of the family into service. Helena kept having kids, and not liking them, and Bren’n’Blaw kept throwing them loosely into the back of the Land Rover and feeding them on horse vitamins, and potty training by letting them run wild with nothing on the bottom. Everyone liked this state of affairs, and Helena got to pick towering magnificent quarrels about the PEASANTS STEALING HER CHILDREN, without having to wipe any snotty noses or pack any lunches. Perfect!

Bren’n’Blaw were furious about the loss of Charlie and spent a lot of time looking for him - never stopping, really. It became a kind of quest in itself, and obviously was always doomed to be fruitless. This schism started sending major cracks through a family that would otherwise be clannish.

In theory, on Albert’s death, Blaw and the Saint inherit the stud operation up the driveway and the old house, with Bill’s stronghold always having been the training yard. I think the stud operation has to close down, though - they’re all fading in influence and cash.

These days they’re getting on in years, and there are a lot of competing tensions - Bill’s spinal injury, the lack of succession planning - and they spend a lot of time on horsey errands. I think they disappear quite a lot of unwanted horses, which are always a problem, and in addition to training racehorses and doing a thousand all-consuming horsey chores, they probably practice a certain amount of weird DIY vet stuff and quasi-farrier work. There are vague disputes around the territories of other racing dynasties that I intend to fictionalise heavily. They do a surprisingly good line in looming, for ex-jockeys, and can do menacing for a discount.

They are not very nice people, mostly because of the lack of moral compass, but they are devoted to Killie.

They sound like a loopy pair of unadoptable bonded rescue cats who are also comedy Arthurian knights. Sorry.

#Killie #might need a tag for the toxic horse dynasty B generation

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the-shedevil-writes · 1 day ago

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Please Please Please (Jake Seresin x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: Growing up with Rooster as your big cousin meant that you were always protected. He made it his mission to keep you out of trouble—whether you wanted him to or not. But after you're transferred to the North Island base, there's little he can do to stop you from being intrigued by the witty playboy pilot that is Jake 'Hangman' Seresin. Everybody's warning you not to... but that just makes the chase more fun.

WORD COUNT: 5.7k WARNINGS: Sensual jokes and innuendos, cussing, fighting. Your call sign’s ’Cowgirl’ ;) NOTES: Jake Seresin is so Short n' Sweet by Sabrina Carpenter. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

Growing up with a big cousin like Bradley meant that every summer was spent in San Diego, basking in the hot summer sun and running around, causing trouble. Even though Y/n lived across the country in Alabama, she was incredibly close to her cousin. Technology got better as they got older, and things like texting and FaceTime made the distance after summer ended much more manageable. She looked up to him. He always gave her advice and took care of her. Of course, she worried about him when he decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and join the Navy Air Force. But nothing compared to his reaction on Christmas morning when she told him that she also had enlisted. A mix of pride, anger, and dread surged through him, but he eventually came around to the idea.

After a few years of hustling, she eventually and finally got transferred to North Island. Bradley’s home. She was not just going to be there for the summer, but for the indeterminable future.

When he found out, he ecstatically started preparing for her arrival. He told the Dagger Squad about his little cousin and how she was being transferred over. One night, he turned to FaceTime and explained all the members of the squadron he worked with. She had heard all of these call signs before, but had never put any names to faces.

She stared at the Instagram post he was talking about over the phone. A group photo of all of them at this bar, which they apparently frequented. Bradley at the piano, and the rest of the pilots surrounding him. They seemed like a fun bunch. One pilot immediately caught her eye. A tall built blonde in the middle with a smirk that said ‘yeah right.’

“Who’s the blonde?” She asked

“Glasses or no glasses?” Bradley asked, the small square of him in the corner had him in his dark room.

“No glasses. He’s cute.”

The sound that escaped him was a mix between a groan and a dreadful laugh. “Ohhhhh no. Oh no no no no. You are not getting with Hangman.” He said.

She smirked and raised her brows. They both knew she wasn’t one to back away from a bad idea. But this often led to tears being shed, and Bradley having to hold back his ‘I told you so’ for later on.

“And why’s that?” She asked

“I think our moms would kill me if I let you get played by Jake Seresin.”

“So he’s a player?”

He rolled his eyes. “And a major dick. Just… don’t. Why not Bob? Blonde with the glasses.” He offered.

He wasn’t overprotective in the way that nobody could date her. That’d be unreasonable. He just felt that he could tell the difference between a good and bad decision. Bob was a clear good decision.

She looked the guy over in the picture and shrugged. “Ehhh, he’s cute. But he looks nice.”

Bradley looked straight into the camera like he was Jim from the office.

“The problem is that… he’s nice?”

That made her laugh out loud, “Yeah! Bradley, you know my type. And it’s never been guys whose call sign is Bob.”

“You’ll love Bob, though. If you aren’t into him, you’ll at least be great friends.” He said. And that painted a picture in her head. San Diego beaches. A lovely work schedule, Monday through Friday. A group of friends already waiting for her there. And her days spent flying jets with her favorite and only cousin.

Touching down in San Diego felt incredible. Her whole body felt electric with the prospects of new beginnings. She had worked in many rural states so far, never in a city like this. She practically tackled Bradley to the ground when she found him waiting at the gate. It had been years since either of them had gotten to see each other in person.

“Bradley Bradshaw! I didn’t know you existed outside of my phone.” She cackled.

“Hey, it’s Rooster to you now, Cowgirl.” He said, referring to her own call sign.

She fake shivered, “Weird. Weird!”

Her first week was spent moving into her apartment, and Bradley helped her put together furniture after his shifts. On Friday night, he insisted that she come to The Hard Deck. And who was she to deny a few drinks on her first weekend in North Island?

Walking up to the homey dive bar, a sense of adventure zapped up her spine. The lights inside lit up the dark beach, and she could hear the waves faintly behind the classic rock playing inside. They didn’t have anything like this in Alabama, that’s for sure.

She didn’t get many opportunities to dress up nicely, so she decided to go all out. But now she felt a little overdressed in her white halter top and denim mini skirt. A pair of heels sank into the sand. Her blown-out hair lifted in the sea breeze. Even the people walking in front of her were in simple T-shirts and shorts. She swallowed. Maybe she overestimated ‘bar on the beach’.

She walked in and looked around for her cousin. After a few seconds of anxious scanning, she found him over by the pool table, playing darts. It wasn’t hard to notice him and his whole group, still in uniform.

“Hey, Rooster!” She called happily, strutting over to meet him.

He turned around and smiled. “Hey, Cowgirl!” He ecstatically walked over to greet her with a side hug.

She didn’t notice the squad’s jaws dropping and the surprised looks they all gave each other. THIS was Rooster’s little cousin? Hangman, the most surprised, went from leaning down on the table, lining up his starting shot of pool, to slowly standing, taking her all in.

Rooster led her to the table. “Guys, this is the little cousin I was telling you all about. This is Y/n.” He said, introducing her.

She smiled and waved on instinct. “Hi.”

“Jesus Christ, she’s related to you?” Hangman said with a smooth voice, capturing her attention. The cute guy from the photo. And wow, he was even more better looking in real life. Tall, blonde, and muscular. His green eyes reflected back the amber lights above, as he stood leaning on his pool cue. He looked like a Ken doll, and his voice was like butter. She understood immediately how he garnered the rep that Rooster scared her of.

“That’s Hangman.” Rooster disappointingly introduced, and he pointed to the rest of the gang, “There’s Phoenix. Bob. Fanboy. And Payback.”

She nodded, keeping track of the names. “Got room for one more?” She asked.

“Yeah. Of course.” Bob said, welcoming, sliding over so she could move into the space.

She turned and looked around for a cue on the wall, but didn’t see any. When she turned back around, she found Hangman standing there with two in his hands.

“I got you.” He said, handing her one.

She looked up at him, unable to resist the smile that grew on her face. The smile that Rooster knew very well growing up. The one that meant trouble.

“Thank you very much.” She said, reaching for it, but he gently pulled it away first with a teasing look on his face. After a daring head tilt, she snatched the cue from his hand, purposefully making their fingers brush. Sure, this Jake Seresin was cute, but she could play that game, too. He clearly had never heard of Y/n Bradshaw. She walked past him, towards the end of the pool table. Nobody questioned that she was now suddenly starting the game.

She leaned over in her low-cut halter and mini skirt without a care in the world. Though it sure made Bob avert his eyes and give Rooster a scared look. She knew exactly who wouldn’t look away… Jake. She could feel his stare boring into her, and even with her focusing on the rack in front of her, she could guess the stupid smirk on his face.

“Your technique’s all wrong.” Jake started, “I can teach you, if you’d like.” Practically textbook flirting.

Rooster stared daggers into him. “I’ll kill you, Hangman.” He did his best to walk over and stick to his game of darts with Payback and Fanboy. But that didn’t stop the nervousness.

She chuckled and pushed the cue forward, sending the ball flying hard against the stack. They all scattered, sending many more stripes in than solids.

“I’m stripes. Bob, you’re on my team.” She said, calling him over with her head.

Bob’s eyes widened, but he nodded and joined her with a smile. He seemed just happy to be included. It took all her effort not to laugh at Jake’s face dropping.

Jake let out the tiniest scoff then leaned on his cue. “Losers buy a round for the squad.”

“You sure seem confident,” She teased as Phoenix lined up her shot.

“I’m the only Naval Aviator here with a confirmed air-to-air kill. I’ve got good aim.” He bragged.

“If you’re wanting a measuring contest, I can go toe to toe.”

“Oh really?”

Phoenix got her shot in naturally, and Bob went to take her place, finding a good spot to get a stripe in. But who cares what they were doing? It felt like they didn’t exist. It felt like the entire bar didn’t even exist, and it was nothing but this sweet, sweet tension between her and Hangman. That feeling when two people know they’re attracted to each other, so they’re treading the line between what’s too far and what’s not far enough. You could cut it with a knife.

“Well, I’m an early bloomer with a hundred carrier landings and two air medals.” She announced, walking closer to stand in front of him. She looked up and smirked, “One of them with V.”

He whistled. “Guess, we’ve got ourselves a good game on our hands then, folks.” He said, but only stared directly into her eyes.

“Guess, we do, Hangman. You’re on.”

The game was tight. And it felt like she and Jake were playing their own game amidst Phoenix and Bob. Jake was good. He had dead aim and could get a solid from across the table straight into a pocket.

But she had strategy on her side. She’d aim for what seemed like the riskiest route, but would get multiple balls in at the same time. Faster when she was on a lucky streak, slower when she wasn’t. Leading to the two of them neck and neck.

One of the last turns of the game had her and Bob with 3 balls left, and Hangman and Phoenix with two.

“Shaking in your boots yet?” Hangman said lowly as she lined up her shot. It was tough. Trying to include the one ball in an awkward spot was almost impossible.

She shook her head firmly. “Nope.”

“Oh, you will be.” He said, leaning over next to her, trying to distract her.

“That a promise?” She asked quickly before shooting. The ball hit straight into the awkward one, sent it in, and bounced back to hit her last two remaining into pockets.

Jake watched it with wide eyes. This woman.

She smirked proudly. “How ‘bout you? Shaking in your boots yet?” All she needed to do was get the 8-Ball in on her next turn, and she and Bob would be winners. Unless…

“Not even close.” Jake started setting up his shot.

Phoenix observed the board. “Hangman, we’re fucked. You can’t get that six in without hitting the 8-ball.”

“High risk. High reward.” He said before shooting, without even a thought. And yup. He sank the 8-ball in too early.

Bob and Y/n cheered with a high-five. “Nice work, Bob.” She complimented before Jake walked back over to them. “I drink Michelob Ultra.” She rubbed it in.

He shook his head. “How about you come with me to get this round?” He said.

She looked over at Rooster, who was playing some songs on the piano as Payback and Fanboy danced and sang along off-key. A mischievous grin formed on her face. “Sure.” She said, walking away with Hangman. Bob and Phoenix looked at each other with worried faces.

As they walked over to the bar, Jake looked over at her. “Getting to buy you a drink is a pretty fantastic punishment.”

“Dreadful, isn’t it?” She said.

“Horrible. Didn’t want to do it at all.” He replied just as sarcastically.

This felt… good? Even though Rooster had warned her so heavily about him, she felt that she had met her match. After plenty of lackluster guys and boring conversation, she was talking to someone who could keep up with her. But she didn’t want it to seem like she was falling for him. No- she couldn’t let this man have the higher court. She was not going to be just another girl for him. He was gonna have to square up to get anywhere past this fun flirting with her.

They sat at the bar. “Penny, could I get five more of our usual and…” He looked over at Y/n, who sat with a proud smile, “And a Michelob Ultra. All on me.”

The bartender nodded, “You got it.” She said, sliding over the mass of drinks and looking over at her. “A new face around here.”

“Yeah, Hi! I’m Y/n, Rooster’s cousin.”

And at that, Penny widened her eyes at Hangman, as if to say, ‘What are you doing?’ She took a surprised pause before going. “Well, welcome to town.”

With that foreboding interaction, her stomach squeezed. What was any of that supposed to mean? But she mentally shook it off and looked back over at the gorgeous man next to her.

“I think I know why your name’s Cowgirl.” He stated with a sly smile.

“I think I know why your name’s Hangman.”

“It does hang.”

Jesus Christ. That took her off guard, but she wasn’t about to let it show.

“It’s cause I’m from Alabama, dumbass.” “Texas.”

Their dialogue was like a western shootout. Constant banter, and no time to breathe.

“You leave people out to dry,” She said.

“Well, the women are usually-”

She raised a brow that told him not to finish that sentence. In a single look, she told him that she was not the type of woman to hear about his conquests. He tilted his head with a wavering smirk. An exhale escaped through his nose.

“I like you.” He said, wagging his finger at her. “You’re fun.”

“And that’s all you are. Fun.” She said pointedly, “I hope you know that tonight’s been fun, but I’m not looking to wake up in your bed.”

His face dropped. “You’re gonna listen to Chicken instead of forming your own opinion?” He asked, clearly a little taken aback.

“Well… I don’t fuck and find out.” She replied, opening her beer can with a hiss and strutting back to the pool table, waving hi to Bob and Phoenix. She looked back at Jake, who looked like he had just seen pigs fly.

The next week was her first week on base, and she couldn’t wait. She was itching to fly again. She hadn’t been able to since her move, and she needed it like water. They were training for a strike mission, something she was very familiar with.

She sat on a bench in the locker room, putting on the underclothes for her flight suit. Just a black tank top and underwear, as Phoenix did the same, a few lockers down from her. Her hesitant gaze could be felt.

Awkward silence.

“Phoenix, you seem like you wanna say something,” Y/n said with a chuckle, not even looking at her, as she got up to grab her flight suit.

“I’m debating on warning you against Hangman or if you’ve already heard enough from Rooster.” The brunette replied point-blank, “You have to know he’s a bad idea.”

She shrugged as she set her suit on the ground so she could step into it. “I know he is. That’s why I’m not sleeping with him.”

Phoenix raised her brows. “Right now. But you guys were practically one step away from screwing each other on the pool table at Hard Deck last weekend.” She said, and was met with silence as she pulled up the bottom half. “I’m just saying. He gets girls wrapped around his finger all the time. Don’t think you’re gonna change him to be a relationship type of guy.”

Y/n put on the arms of her suit. “Well, if he wants me, he’s gonna have to. I’m not that type of girl anymore.” She zipped herself up, “Trust me. If he wants to be stupid, it sure as hell won’t be in front of me.”

Phoenix shrugged. “Whatever you say, Cowgirl.”

Walking out into the hangar side by side with Phoenix was invigorating. She looked around, taking in the base. It felt a lot bigger than the ones she was used to. And the weather was gorgeous. A cool breeze whizzed past her face, not protected by her hair anymore, now that it was up in the sanctioned bun.

Then she saw him. Hangman walking out with Fanboy towards the jet. He looked fantastic in a flight suit. The dark green sleeves were folded up over his elbows, and the sight of his tense forearms made her swallow like a Victorian man seeing an ankle.

He looked over and saw her, a grin appearing on his face.

“Good morning, ladies. Cowgirl.” He said to the two, making Phoenix roll her eyes and walk away towards Fanboy. “You sure make a onesie look good.” He said once she left.

“Right back at you, Bangman.” She teased, making him laugh.

“I don’t mind that nearly as much as you think.” He said, crossing his arms.

“Well, you should.” And for some reason, that comment got under his skin a little. She could tell by the way he tensed up slightly.

But before she could recover, Rooster came by. She wondered if he was just passing through or if he saw her talking to Jake and decided to intervene. “Hey, Cowgirl! Ready for your first day?”

She nodded excitedly, “Very. I’ve been waiting.” She said happily.

Rooster patted her back, then looked over at Hangman with a warning glare that could turn a man to stone. But then Phoenix called his name from the distance, and Rooster looked over at his little cousin. “You’re gonna kill it. Be careful. Be safe.” He said before running over. But it didn’t feel like it was the planes he was warning her about.

After a moment, Jake looked back at her, “I actually wanted to-”

BZZZZZZ. The P.A. system turned on. “Pilots, please report to the flight line for pre-launch checks. Stand by for further instructions.” A gravelly voice said.

An excited smile lit up her face. “God, I’m so excited.” She said, practically radiating as she looked over at the line of Hornets. She didn’t even notice Jake admiring how pretty she looked when she was excited about something. She turned back, and his face returned to normal, hiding the small smile he had. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

He opened his mouth, but then thought about it. “I’ll tell you later. We should go.”

The next few days were hard, but rewarding. Dogfights and practicing in difficult terrain. But she and Jake developed a lovely, banter-filled friendship between them. Every day, she’d walk into the hangar to find Jake had already grabbed her coffee. And they’d tease each other about their flying habits and mistakes.

“I mean, you fixate so hard on the kill shot that you forget about your position. It’s a rookie mistake.” She shrugged, sipping her coffee.

“What can I say? I just like getting what I want.” He said, leaning closer.

Her head turned, challenging. “Clearly…” She said softly, “But then you end up dead in the water.” She stated, breaking the tension and walking away towards her jet. Jake watched her with a gnawing ache in his chest that grew every day.

Up in the sky, a week later, she and Jake flew, teamed up for an exercise. They hadn’t started yet, waiting for Maverick to catch up.

Over the direct comms, Jake’s voice piped up in her helmet. “How’s your week been, Cowgirl?”

She smirked, looking over to see Jake in his jet giving her a two-finger wave through his canopy. “It’s been good.” She radioed in.

The loud rush of the air against them was calming, and it was nice just casually flying down the area with one of the most breathtaking views she’s seen as a pilot. The beach was not too far down from them, giving them a clear view of the ocean.

“Just good?” He asked. She could practically hear the curl of his lips, “How about I make it great?”

“Didn’t know you had a spicy margarita in your pocket there. How’d you fit that?” She teased and saw him shake his head.

“Dinner. Saturday night. I can guarantee a spicy margarita. Or a Michelob Ultra. Whatever you’re feeling, Cowgirl.” He said, remembering her order from a few weeks back.

She thought about it. Maybe it was the adrenaline of being in a jet. Maybe it was her hankering for bad decisions. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d been well behaved. He’d been keeping up this amusing give and take with her for the past two weeks. He was a fast learner. He quickly learned to never insinuate that she was going to sleep with him. And to never bring up other girls.

“It’s a date.” She radioed in and looked over to find him staring at her with a surprised smile.

He spun his jet into a barrel roll, making her laugh.

“YOU’RE WHAT?” Rooster almost slammed the brakes on the blue Ford Bronco on their way to The Hard Deck. But they were in the middle of the street, so he just looked over at her, horrified, and back at the road. “Y/N! What the hell did I say about Hangman?”

She crossed her arms, already annoyed. “He’s been so… sweet.” She said, shrugging.

“I’m sure that’s what all the girls in god damn San Diego say before he buys them a drink.” He said.

She groaned. “Rooster!”

“Cowgirl!” He replied worriedly. “I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m trying to be your older cousin who doesn’t want you to make bad decisions.”

“And when have I ever listened to you?”

“Never. But this time, I’m telling you. This isn’t prom with Chad Garter. This isn’t that biker guy in your stats class. This is a guy I know for certain just wants sex.”

“And how do you know that?!” She asked, exasperated.

“Because I’ve seen him pick up girls at Hard Deck.”

That made her laugh. She shook her head. “Oh, Bradley, I’m so glad you didn’t see me during my community college phase.”

His eyes widened. “Jesus Christ, Ew! Don’t let me think about that.” He said, disgusted.

“Look, I’ve done my fair share of one-night stands, too. I can’t judge. And he asked me out on a date. An ACTUAL date. Dinner.” She said

There was a silence in the car as Rooster shook his head disapprovingly. She looked at him with pleading eyes.

“And if he tries to go further than dinner, I’ll say no. And that’s that. It’ll be awkward at work for a bit until he mans up. But that’s how it always is.” She tried to convince him.

He looked over at her and saw the look on her face. The desperate look of his little cousin, whom he loved like a sister. And unfortunately, he knew her so well that he knew there was no stopping her. “If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. I’ll actually do it. And you’re paying for the funeral and my bail.”

“And it’ll be well deserved.” She nodded happily.

Rooster and her arrived a bit later than usual. They spotted the usual gang over by the dartboard, sitting around, taking turns. Except someone was missing. She didn’t see Jake, and he was hard to miss considering his height and stature. Rooster walked ahead, already towards the group, but she paused, looking around.

Then she saw the stray khaki uniform sitting at the bar. The back of his blonde head was obvious. And with the flip of her stomach, she saw a beautiful woman sitting next to him in a gorgeous bodycon dress. She reached up and slid her hand up his shoulder, and he looked down at her with a polite smile.

That was enough. She wasn’t about to cause a scene, but she sure as hell wasn’t about to be played right in front of her eyes. She spun on her heels and walked toward the door.

Rooster, now noticing she wasn’t following, ran back over to her. “What? What’s wrong?” He asked, immediately reading her face.

“No. No, I’m stupid. I was just- He was just-” She stammered, and Rooster turned back to see Jake patting the woman’s hand.

He turned back. “I’m gonna kill him. I’m actually-”

She grabbed his arm. “No. Don’t. Don’t make a big deal out of it. Otherwise, it’ll just make it worse.”

“No. No, he doesn’t get to do that to you.” Rooster said. “Not you.”

He turned back around and strode towards Jake, who was getting up from the bar now. “ASSHOLE!” Rooster yelled, pushing Jake back against the bar. The woman who was next to him yelped in surprise.

“HEY!” Penny called out. The whole bar was watching now.

Jake looked around, confused and wide-eyed. “What the hell?”

“You think you can just run through Y/n like she’s nothing to you, huh? Get her fucking hopes up like an asshole and then go home with another girl?!”

Jake looked over Rooster’s shoulder and saw her standing there, covering her mouth in shock and embarrassment. He quickly realized what had happened. But Rooster kept going.

“I fucking told you. I told you! That if you did anything to her, I’d beat the shit out of you.” Rooster said, grabbing his shirt, but Jake pushed him back.

“I wasn’t flirting with her!” He finally said loud enough to make the bar go quiet. The upbeat classic rock from the jukebox was faint and clashing, just making the tension worse. “She was with me, and I rejected her. I felt bad. I was trying to be nice.”

Rooster looked over at the scared woman on the stool next to them. She slowly nodded, confirming his story. He stepped back, and they both looked over at Y/n, who just stood red in the face. Angry at both of them. Humiliated more than anything. She couldn’t stop the fact that tears were streaming down her face. And when she looked over and saw Phoenix and Bob’s worried expressions, that was the last straw. She stormed out of the bar.

“BOTH OF YOU. OUT!” Penny yelled.

Rooster and Hangman walked out with their tails between their legs to find an empty parking spot where Rooster’s car used to be. Scarred tire marks were scorched on the pavement.

“Classic. Classic Y/n.” He said, throwing his arms in the air.

Jake couldn’t help the smile that brought him. “God, that girl is something else.”

“Yeah. That’s why she doesn’t need you, Seresin.” Rooster spat. “We should find her.”

The blonde looked at him. “You know, you think you’ve got me all figured out, huh? You think I’m just some playboy genius trying to hit a big score.”

Rooster nodded. “Uh yeah, that’s actually exactly what I think.”

Jake put his hands on the back of his hips and shook his head. He was actually gonna admit this.

“You know she’s the first girl I’ve asked out on a real, genuine date in years?” Jake pointed out. He saw the surprise on the brunette’s face. Years? “For the first time in a long time, a girl’s got me so nervous I can’t stand it. Everytime I see her, the only thing I can think about is not screwing it up. So I’ll be damned if I let you or that random woman back there get in the way.”

There was silence as Rooster just looked at him, stunned.

Jake huffed. “Get in the Jeep, Chicken. Let’s go find her.”

Rooster knew exactly where she’d be. Spending every summer there since they were practically born made it easy to know her favorite spots. They parked on the cliffside of a small beachside mountain. If you could even call it a mountain. It was just an elevated view of the whole beach.

She sat on the ground with her knees to her chest, taking in deep breaths. Her hair blew in the higher wind. She could see Hard Deck as a tiny spot in the distance. That wasn’t there when she was growing up. A lot of the buildings actually weren’t there when she was growing up. It used to be nothing but sand and grass. And the newfound metropolis taking over was a little overwhelming.

The sound of a car pulling up startled her. She turned back and saw a white Jeep parking right behind her. It idled there for a minute before Rooster finally hopped out of the passenger side. Who the hell was driving then? She squinted her eyes, trying to see through the windshield, but from where she was sitting, the sun hit directly against it. A shadowy figure. Kind of looked like Bob?

“Hey, kid,” Rooster said, walking over and sitting next to her.

She didn’t say anything for a moment. “Thanks for humiliating me.”

Rooster sighed. “Yeah, for once, you were kinda right.”

“For once?” She raised a brow.

He chuckled, “Fine. Fine. I should’ve listened to you. I shouldn’t have gone to kill Hangman.”

She sighed, “You know, if he was actually flirting with her, I would’ve totally let you.” She said, and noticed Rooster look back over his shoulder for a second before turning back.

“Yeah… Well, I can confirm now he wasn’t and he’s not six feet deep, at least.” He said, noticing that she still wasn’t happy. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so humiliated. It feels like everybody has been waiting to watch me crash and burn with Jake. And that kind of just proved it.” She threw her hands up, then back around her knees.

There was a small silence before Rooster put his thoughts together. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you. It’s just that you’re my best friend, and I hate to see you get hurt. You know I’d do anything to avoid that.”

“You told him to stay away from me?” She asked about what he said at the bar.

Rooster nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, after the first night. But he’s just like you, unfortunately. Stubborn as a mule.”

After a second, she let out a heavy sigh. “I can’t be mad at you. You’re my best friend, too, and you were just protecting me like you always do.” She said still a little defeated, “I just hope that Jake doesn’t think I’m batshit crazy now.”

“Well… about that,” Rooster started, then looked over his shoulder again before nodding his head.

She followed his gaze and watched Jake get out of the driver’s side of the jeep.

“Oh!” She yelped, taken off guard. She wiped her face, hoping there weren’t any stray tears.

Rooster looked at the two of them and saw the bashful look on Hangman’s face. He had never seen that look on him before. The vulnerable look of pure nervousness. She… she might be in good hands here.

“I’m gonna park the Jeep down the hill.” He said. And when he got up, Hangman tossed him the keys, clearly having planned this. An effortless catch and toss.

She stood up and walked towards Jake as Rooster got in the car and started pulling away.

“Hey…” Jake said. He gently brought his hands up to her face and moved some stray baby hairs out of her face. The wind was blowing them everywhere.

“I’m so sorry.” She started, “I swear- all I saw was her putting her hand on your back and you smiling at her, and I-I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it, but then Rooster saw.” She explained nervously.

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He said firmly, he brought his hand to cup her cheek and brushed his thumb back and forth. Her breath hitched at that. He pulled away to put his hands back in his pockets, and she wished he didn’t. “I hope you know that I’m not just trying to… get you in bed with me.” He said, looking down, embarrassed, then looking back up to see her reaction.

“Everyone said you were.” She admitted.

“I’m aware. Very aware.” There was a small silence between them for a moment. “Do you still believe them?”

She thought about it for a moment, staring up at him. Then she slowly shook her head. “No. Or at the very least, I don’t want to.”

His mouth upturned to a small smile at that. “Good.” He said, moving forward closer, “Because I’m… I’m serious about you. Ever since that night at Hard Deck, I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re just incredible. In every sense of the word.”

Now that brought a small smile to her face, and it was her turn to walk forward closer. “Hmmm… And there’s no other girls?” She interrogated lightly.

He shook his head with a smirk. “No, ma’am. Got my hands full with you.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she naturally put her hands on his cheeks. This just felt right.

“Good.” She said before closing in the gap between them and kissing him.

They held each other so close that it was like they wanted to merge. Weeks of tension and banter, and forbidden nature, all exploding into this one gesture. Her lips soft against his. His hands calloused against her waist. The taste of evergreen between them.

She pulled away and looked up at him, just admiring his features. He chuckled as he watched her examine his face.

“Still good for dinner tomorrow night?” He asked

“You’re on.”

#Jake Seresin #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun hangman #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #top gun hangman fic #glen powell #glen powell fic #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic

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hannie-bees · 12 hours ago

Note

Hey lovely 💕 Can I request Seventeen reactions to reader being in pain during periods? I know this is so basic and common but rn I’m going through a lot of pain and my delusional self needs this kind of comfort 🥹

oh angel 🥺💕 first of all, i’m so sorry you’re going through that right now—period pain is no joke and you deserve all the comfort in the world. i promise this isn’t basic at all—these are exactly the kind of delulu daydreams that get us through the worst cramps 😭 i’ll get on it right away and make it extra soft for you. sending you all the warmth and love rn 💗💗

SEUNGCHEOL — the provider

Instantly enters “dad leader” mode.

"Do you want a heating pad? I’ll go get it. And I’m ordering food. No arguments."

Tucks you into bed like you’re made of glass. He insists you don’t lift a finger.

Holds you in his lap with your back against his chest and rubs your stomach gently.

Tries to distract you by showing you videos of puppies or TikToks.

JEONGHAN — mischievous but soft

At first: “It’s just a period, baby.”

Ten minutes later, he’s got you in his arms like “my baby is suffering 😭"

Teases you lightly just to make you smile but immediately apologizes if you frown.

Offers to brush your hair and brings you chocolate like he’s sneaking drugs past security.

Sits through whatever show or K-drama you want to watch, no complaints.

JOSHUA — the perfect balance

Knows the cycle like a calendar. Has supplies ready before you even ask.

“I made you peppermint tea. It helps with cramps.”

Gives you gentle massages and wraps both of you in a soft blanket cocoon.

Makes breakfast in bed and feeds you strawberries.

Sweet forehead kisses and constant soft “you’re doing so well” praise.

JUN — the lowkey

Doesn’t make a big fuss, but does everything right.

Cooks warm, comforting meals like congee or ramen.

Quietly slides a heating pad under your back while you’re curled up.

Puts on a fantasy movie and lets you lie on his chest while stroking your hair.

If your cramps are bad, he’ll Google remedies and say “Don’t worry. I got you.”

HOSHI — the sunshine (1)

Tries to make you laugh to distract you: “Let me dance away your cramps!”

Brings you a plushie army and says “they’ll guard you while I go make soup.”

Worries more than necessary: “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital??”

Tries (and fails) to make pancakes in the shape of hearts.

Wants cuddles and won’t let you move: “Just lay here with me, I’ll make the pain go away.”

WONWOO — the quiet comfort

Sits beside you in bed while reading his book, hand in yours the whole time.

Lets you lie in his lap and quietly reads to you or plays soft music.

Will write a list of all the things he can do to help you. Seriously.

Buys extra snacks and pads and hides them around the house “just in case.”

Massages your lower back with gentle, warm hands until you drift off.

WOOZI — the secretly sweet one

Grumbles a little like “you should take better care of yourself,” but he’s actually worried sick.

Will give up his studio time to stay by your side.

Makes homemade ginger tea and grumpily says, “Don’t complain. Drink it. It’s good for you.”

Strokes your hair while you nap and adjusts the blanket on you every 20 minutes.

Kisses your forehead before whispering, “I hate seeing you like this…”

THE8 — the healing presence

Immediately lights candles and sets a calming mood.

Offers to do meditation or slow stretches with you to ease the cramps.

“Let me run you a bath, it’ll help.”

Speaks softly and strokes your cheek until you calm down.

Gets philosophical: “Pain is temporary. But love? That’s forever.” (yes he’d say this. Not really, but wtv)

MINGYU — the kitchen boyfriend

Chef mode: pancakes, hot chocolate, ramen, cookies — he makes it all.

Constantly checks on you: “Need water? Snacks? My soul?”

Cuddles you on the couch while watching cartoons and says, “You’re so cute even when you’re grumpy.”

Kisses your tummy

Tries to help but panics if you suddenly wince: “Do I need to call someone!?”

DK — the sunshine (2)

Brings a smile no matter how awful you feel.

“Okay, so you’re cramping, bloated, AND moody? Let me love you harder.”

Plays your favorite songs on guitar and sings to you.

Builds a pillow fort and declares it your “Period Palace.”

Makes dumb jokes until you laugh through the pain.

SEUNGKWAN — the emotional support

Panics at first but turns into the ultimate comfort boyfriend.

Brings you a weighted blanket and insists you take it easy.

Distracts you with gossip and dramatic storytelling: “And THEN you won’t believe what Hoshi did—”

Keeps tissues nearby if you cry during a commercial.

Gives a hundred kisses on your temple and says, “I wish I could take the pain for you.”

VERNON — the quiet caretaker

Notices you’re uncomfortable even before you say anything

Silently queues up your comfort show and hands you a mug of tea.

Doesn’t say much, but keeps checking if you need anything with soft eyes.

Will 100% let you cuddle him like a giant human pillow and let you fall asleep on top of him if it helps ease the pain.

Might text you a random meme while sitting 2 feet away just to make you smile.

DINO — the thoughtful baby

Very concerned and very eager to help: “Is this normal? What do I do? I Googled it.”

Learns your cycle schedule and sets reminders for himself.

Carries your bag and brings your hoodie even if you didn’t ask.

Tries to cook for you even if he’s not that good at it.

Tells you you’re strong and brave, even if you’re crying over a commercial.

🌸 Masterlist 🌸

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demie90s · 22 hours ago

Note

WAIT CAN YOU POSSIBLY DO PAZZI X READER WHO ALSO PLAYS FOR UCONN BUT HAS REALLY BAD ANXIETY??

(Y’all love making the reader go through stuff huh😭)

ᴘᴀᴢᴢɪ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Anxiety

MASTERLIST | MORE

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:You play for UConn too. Same jersey, same grind. But while they see a star athlete, you’re trapped inside your own head. Until they start noticing—really noticing—and refuse to let you fight alone.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ:angst, slow-burn comfort, mental health, found family/poly love

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:severe anxiety, internal spiraling, overstimulation, emotional breakdown, comforting touch, implied therapy mentions, protective partners, soft Geno moment

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~0.6k

ᴠɪʙᴇ:raw, personal, gentle hands in hair, quiet affirmations, “you’re not a burden,” deep breaths pressed to someone’s chest

Azzi saw it first. You always managed to keep your smile on around the team, but she noticed how long it took you to lace your shoes. How your breathing sounded just slightly too tight during stretches. Paige wasn’t far behind either. She picked up on the way your hands wouldn’t stay still, fingers twitching against your thighs like your nerves were dribbling their own game.

Nobody else really clocked it. You played through it like you always did. Head down, focus up, lock in. That was your thing. The loudest voice on the court when it was someone else in distress—but dead silent when it was you.

Until it cracked.

One minute, you were running drills. The next, the ball slipped out of your hands mid-pass. A clean fumble. Azzi whipped her head over instantly, and Paige froze in her defensive stance like something in her spine just told her something’s wrong.

You dropped your hands to your knees, tried to steady yourself. It felt like a full-blown thunderstorm behind your ribs. That buzzing, vibrating kind of panic that had no source—just sound and pressure and sweat.

“Yo—” Paige’s voice cut through the noise. “You good?”

You nodded too fast. Shook your head a second later. Didn’t make sense.

Azzi was already jogging over, tossing a towel to KK without a word. “She’s not okay,” she said, matter-of-fact, even before she got to you.

You sat down hard on the bench. Geno called something out but didn’t press when he saw your shoulders shaking, your fists clenched too tight around air.

Azzi crouched in front of you, her hands warm around your knees. “Hey. Look at me.”

You couldn’t. Embarrassment, shame, frustration—it all hit at once.

“Baby,” Paige said, kneeling beside her. Her tone was different. Quieter. “It’s us. You’re allowed to not be okay with us.”

You didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Your throat closed up. Azzi reached for your hands and held them like they’d break otherwise. Paige tucked hair behind your ear and whispered, “Breathe with me, okay? Just match me.”

You tried.

One breath.

Then another.

It didn’t fix it. But you weren’t spiraling alone anymore.

Later, after practice, you sat on the locker room bench with your head down. Still feeling like your heart was on timeout.

“I hate this,” you muttered finally. “I hate how weak this makes me feel.”

“You’re not weak.” Paige’s voice came from the doorway, firm and low. “You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

Azzi walked in behind her with your sweatshirt and water bottle. “Strong doesn’t mean silent. You don’t have to do it alone, babe.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “I just didn’t wanna ruin the vibe.”

Azzi snorted, “You are the vibe. When you go quiet, the gym feels off.”

Paige leaned against the lockers beside you. “You’re always there for us. Screaming in huddles, keeping energy up, putting your body on the line. Let us show up for you for once.”

You finally looked up.

Paige smiled. “We’re your people.”

Azzi nodded. “Your girls. For every win, every breakdown, every bad day.”

And that’s when you broke. Not in a loud, messy way. But soft. Quiet. Shoulders slumping, tears slipping down your cheeks before you could catch them.

Azzi stepped in and wrapped her arms around your neck like she was anchoring you in place. Paige came in from the side, pulling you against her shoulder. You sat there, clinging to both of them like they were the only thing keeping you upright.

Because maybe they were.

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spinnileaf · 2 days ago

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big hero rant. Pls read i need more hero appreciation💙💙💙

i think something a lot of people forget about heros character is that being praised for being "perfect" or "good at everything" and all things like that is. Not a good thing. everyone views it as good but the amount of praise and admiration he gets is extremely hurtful to him. whether its intentional or not the amount hes praised for things he does like good grades, college, cooking and cleaning etc. just sets huge expectations for him and makes him feel like its something he absolutely has to do or else everyone will be disappointed in him. hes almost never shown that kind of attention for his actual personality and how caring he is but rather what he accomplishes, and theres been so many points in his life where he isnt able to do those things because of his mental state (and cause nobody can live up to that much) no matter what he does, theres no way he'll always be able to meet everyones expectations for him so he will always feel like he is failing and not doing enough for everyone.He has so much that he wants to do in life and his own hobbies, but hes completely given up on them and everything that makes him happy just so that he doesnt disappoint his parents or other people who think too highly of him!! the amount people congratulate him for his achievements and everything hes capable of has given him extremely bad self esteem and a feeling that hell never be enough for everyone, but hes so closed off about it and will immediately mask his emotions because even showing negative emotions makes him feel like hes going to let everyone down and make them stop believing hes strong. Hes so focused on making sure everyone else is happy and nothing bad happens that he completely stops caring for himself and his own emotions, and that extreme kindness is what people should appreciate of him because its a trait that he has and will always live up to because its just how he is as a person and not something he could super easily not be able to do anymore. One of the only times in the game where hero is admired for who he is is when theyre sleeping at sunnys house and he describes hero as a person and why hell miss him ("HERO has always been someone you could rely on. He is wise, capable, loving, and always puts others above himself. He is the kind of person that will always make himself available to help you, even to a fault. You will really miss him.") all of heros friends truly do appreciate him for who he is, but he appears to repress his negative emotions towards himself so much that they assume he does as well and only feel a need to congratulate him for what he has done (it also really hurts to me that sunny doesnt talk/communicate enough to let hero know that hes one of the only ones who truly does see him and appreciate him for himself and want the best for him and what he wants uuuuu im really glad the game is told through sunnys perspective because he is so loving) when mari died, hero immediately fell into a deep state of depression and showed pretty much every sign of being suicidal, meaning he could no longer look after everyone and do things like cooking or his school work so he was extremely aware that everyones expectations for him were going to be ruined and that they wouldnt think hes doing everything right and well anymore. so im sure its understandable that after kel says "mari wouldnt want to see you like this", hero interprets it as "mari would be disappointed that youre like this too" and all of the hatred hes built up for himself and his lack of perfection comes out in the form of lashing out at him, but unfortunately for him showing that amount of anger just makes his situation even worse because it changes how kel views him permanently. even though kel is genuinely proud of hero and how hes gotten better and proud to be his brother, he will always be hurt by what happened and hero will have to live knowing hes permanently hurt someone who he loved the most because he felt like he wasnt good enough for them.

mari was also one of the only people who actually showed support in heros hobbies and dreams like cooking and things other people wouldve called silly, she was the only true support he was able to get and that made him appreciate himself more, so wehn mari died he didnt only lose her as a person and the whole friend group, he lost the only bit of belief he had left that he would be able to do what he enjoys in life and be free from everyone elses harsh expectations and enjoy the freedom that comes with being an adult

Anywau im really bad with words and theres like no thought behind this so its not meant to be a 'proper analysis' i just dont like how things like this are completely brushed over with him!! people always label hero as the "boring character" because they really do fall for the act he puts on to appear perfect and flawless to everyone else, either that or they just dont care enough to look into how complex his character is.And i want to bring attention to him so im pointing out for fun

#omori #hero omori #omori fandom #omorihero #omori hero #omori game #HERO OMORI IS UNDERAPPRECIATED #AND I LOVE HERO OMORI #i need someone to read it

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4kozy · 2 days ago

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megan as ur monster gf hcs

━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━

megan is a frankenmonster, which means you tend see her body fall apart quite often. you stitch her back together every time.

franken megs hides your movie snacks inside of her. ( you try to ignore the hygienic issue because you know she’s doing it out of love. )

franken megs definitely likes to scare you by leaving her head on the bed, and let her body roam around the apartment. no matter how much it happens, you never get used to it.

franken megs doesn’t smell good when she doesn’t take her anti-rot…she’ll blame it on going to the gym.

franken megs trained herself to sleep like a rock, just so her legs don’t end up on your face again.

franken megs leaves her ring finger with you when she goes to work. telling her it’s not necessary won’t work. she wants to be with you all the time.

franken megs charges herself in the mornings before you wake up. she doesn’t like when you see her do it–it’s extremely painful.

you and franken megs’s dates consist of calm ( your idea ) and chaotic ( her idea ). she usually tries to find a new experiment when you go out–always roping you along because she likes sharing her fun with you. and you like it too, despite not really understanding.

franken megs doesn’t need to sleep. before moving in together, she chose to stay awake and work on new inventions. it’s after a whiny “megan, come to bed,” that makes her lie down with you, even when she’s not resting.

franken megs gets insecure about her stitches and thinning hair. you always reassure her, saying that there’s no one you’d rather be with, no matter what.

as a girlfriend, franken megs shows her love through physical touch and gift giving. she is almost always returning home with something new for you, making notes on your reactions so she can get the most perfect thing everytime. she’s got files upon files of everything to know about you, just because she loves you so much. you may have found it weird before, but with megan, it’s strangely endearing.

franken megs refuses to do intense activities with you for fear she’ll break apart. no coasters, no surfing, and definitely NO skydiving. ( you learned that lesson after spending three days looking for her leg in the middle of nowhere )

franken megs always finds dead things to bring home. at first it was really off-putting… well actually, it was quite repulsive. Until, of course, she comes down from the roof after a particularly bad storm, with two new cats, four birds, and 1 snake dog. they now mean the world to you two.

franken megs’s favorite genre of music is anything with a body part in it. megan doesn’t explain this obsession to anyone.

sometimes, when franken megs feels like surprising you ( in evil ways ) , she’ll switch out her limbs. you’re expecting to see her walk through the door as normal, yet here she is, with snakes for hair and crab claws where her arm should be.

franken megs is the one testing her inventions out. you are the one who either pulls the trigger or presses the button.

franken megs is the one who takes initiative to decorate in your apartment. she spent the first three weeks tailoring it to your shared liking, making sure to keep special places where you could escape from her odder possessions… ( think of half of your apartment as doofenshmirtz’s pent, and the other as a quaint lesbian dreamland )

you don’t let franken megs cook anymore. not after she set fire to her original torso and didn’t realize until you screamed that her body was burnt up. you also don’t leave megan in the kitchen unsupervised afterwards, worried that you’ll come home to a destroyed apartment building and less than amused neighbors.

franken megs can’t feel pain or temperature anywhere with the exception for her bolts. whenever you cuddle with her, you’re always careful to avoid them, lest she get hurt.

franken megs can taste food, but can’t digest it. you make plates for her every single dinner though🙏

franken megs underestimates her own strength due to her fragile body. there are times you have to gently remind her that she can rip your body apart if she’s too reckless.

franken megs does have a hobby… she’s got a bunch of plants she’s merged with insects that she takes care of. her personal favorite–though she’d never compare them in front of each other–are her butterfly hydrangeas. oh, and she likes legos. she’s got legos too. ( you like that hobby a lot more. )

franken megs likes to make you things–your favorite gift is the rube goldberg hair washing machine in your bathroom, but a very close second would be the lightswitchinator, a beautiful contraption that let you turn off the lights from bed. megan was very happy to make it for you. she got a reward later😍

when franken megs was younger, she ran away from her hometown. she was hunted by the townspeople after a person was killed. she was innocent, but who’d believe the monster?

after this, franken megs has trouble opening up at first, not wanting the same thing to happen again. it’s only when you prove your trustworthiness that she blossoms, beautiful and kind–no longer that reserved girl anymore.

when you die, she puts you back together too, making you as perfect as she can, so you two can keep going on adventures together :)

━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━

ik i be yappin buttttttt in short ily megan please come live with me i can be ur house wife and test subject… and experiment and–

#katseye ⭐️#katseye x reader #megan skiendiel x reader #bias wrecker megan strikes again…#megan skiendiel imagines #megan skiendiel #wlw #katseye imagines #megan skiendiel my one true bias wrecker loveeee #ko’s works

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threegoldfish · 2 days ago

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Loss is loss, no matter what it is you’re losing.

Still feeling incredibly awkward because of having talked so much, Marc keeps his arms crossed and swallows - gaze averted, lingering on some part of that stupid, white floor as Harrow speaks to him. Well, perhaps the other is correct with that - loss is loss, no mater what it was that went away, in the end.

Still, it feels weird to him, and... confusing, everything. Makes Marc want to ignore it all, to just... pretend it isn't there in the first place. Why did he even say anything to begin with? Part of him wants to just disappear as he sighs to himself, vulnerable, sheepish...

---But he listens instead, even allows those dark eyes to trail up briefly when that woman begins to talk, mentions how she is still hoping to get a message from a cousin who'd apparently...done something real bad, Marc assumes. Caused her pain and suffering in one way or another; Perhaps he doesn't wanna know the details, actually. An inhale, followed by an exhale, a gaze drifting to the side...

He can still hear his voice, sometimes - young, happy, cheerful, invested in those games they always played - re-enacting their favorite movie...

What are we going to explore today, Dr. Grant? Will it be dangerous?

His brother will never text him, however. Has never had the chance to text him, to grow up, to own a damn phone. Has never gotten into high school, has never turned into an adult, experienced what it feels like to age, to develop new interests...

It is all your fault!

---Lips press together, brows knitting as eyes are squeezed shut; That voice he hears so much more often, to this day - screaming at him, emotional and heartbroken, true hate within every syllable that appears and echoes through the air like thunder, like a knife slicing itself through his soft insides. Nostrils flare as he inhales, fingers curling against his own sides, gripping his shirt just below his armpits. It's just a memory, it's just a memory, it's just a memory---

---Marc is being pulled out of his thoughts there, by another voice that speaks up; He misses half of the context, but hears the rest of what that veteran says when he blinks his eyes back open, teeth biting down onto the inside of his cheek to try and keep himself calm, fingers relaxing again, a breath leaving him he's been holding onto for too long; Physical pain helps to blend out the mental pain, has him focus on that sting instead rather than on memories, on pictures...

That guy over there talks about sleeping on the floor. Marc doesn't do that, but he gets where the other is coming from. Yeah, certainly feels different to rest on some fucking rock somewhere out there rather than a mattress...

Maybe we feel safer in things that hurt because we know what to expect. Maybe the thought of hurting is easier than the thought of the unknown.

Marc feels himself nodding - it's not a conscious thing he does, but rather his own brain reacting to something that seems to resonate with him---

Things fucked sucked back at the military. Not all of them, obviously, but... a lot of things did. Some comrades did, definitely - Marc's had quite some trouble with a few, and he'd always wished for his superiors to please just put him elsewhere, have him be stationed in a different country with different soldiers - and sometimes he'd even considered to quit. To do something else in life, yeah. Had lied on a stupid fucking bunk bed and stared up at the one above him, thought about getting a shitty job so he could afford himself a flat---

...But he'd stayed, because he knew what it felt like to be there. The unknown had scared him enough for him to prefer to go through episodes of self-hate, of intense bullying, of men sizing each other up so as to keep their position somewhat stable between them all...

Marc glances at Harrow, takes in the sight of him, then looks away again - lets his gaze trail along the other ones, just for a moment and a half, before his attention is on his own shoes instead - those stupid grey loafers. Comfortable, at least, but certainly not nice to look at.

Everyone listened with a deep sense of politeness, some of them looking with intrigue while some just listened to be kind. The veteran relaxed visibly, his shoulders lowering from where they’d been up near his ears. No one stared with judgement, most of them not even looking up at all; one of the women was wiping at her eyes, while others looked more tired than before. Not worn out, but seen; as if it was another bridge of connection.

Arthur nodded, the gesture small and slow; his eyes were shining with a gentle pride, a happiness that Marc allowed himself to open up like that; it would come with shame, he knew, which was why it was important to treat the moment with such delicate nature.

“That makes perfect sense,” he said quietly. “Two things can be true at the same time. Wanting silence and missing noise. Hating what you had and grieving that it’s gone. Wanting out, and still feeling like you left something behind. You did. It’s painful. And it’s correct, to mourn what you’ve lost. Loss is loss, no matter what it is you’re losing.”

There was a small, brief shift as everyone took that in. One of the men crossed his legs, another scratched at their wrist. The veteran didn’t speak, but his eyes had softened; something a bit less guarded, deciding that he’d found a silent companion in Marc. Perhaps they would never talk, but it hardly mattered; having someone was better than having no one.

It wasn’t him who spoke next.

“That’s what I keep getting caught up on,” a young woman offered; one who had been silent until now, just standing near a wall, inspired to speak by Marc doing so. “That it doesn’t make sense. I think about how shitty it was, living with my cousin after… after what happened. But when I’m here, I just want him to text me. Even if it’s mean, even if he’s just telling me to shut up.”

She sniffed, shifting. “Sometimes I check, y’know, at phone time. I’ll check, even though I know he won’t text me. And I’ll go through my old messages just to be sure - like… maybe they disappeared. Maybe I missed something.”

Arthur nodded again, listening; the woman wiped at her eyes again, using the sleeve against her wrist to do so.

“I still sleep on the floor,” the veteran finally spoke again, his gaze lightly on Marc before dipping back down to the ground. “Even at home. Pisses my wife off, she wants me to stop. I don’t like beds, though. The springs. Reminds me of some fuckin’… I dunno. Something. I don’t like them.”

Arthur’s mouth twitched, though he nodded to that as well. “We can build strange armor,” he agreed. “But it’s comfortable. And when it gets heavy… maybe we don’t want to take it off. Maybe we feel safer in things that hurt because we know what to expect. Maybe the thought of hurting is easier than the thought of the unknown.”

Another murmur, another set of hums in consideration or agreement.

#preemptivejustice #threads & interactions; marc spector #(marc briefly about to spiral again ;; )#(also hes so awkward for having talked that he is now quiet haha)

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ysrjune · 2 days ago

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EXACTLY YES!! maybe like an 80s rock x a tiny influence of punk kind of thing…either way i trust you

-🌪️

𐔌 THIS MATCH IS

TRUE. 〃

link 1: for what the dress I was describing. Of course, if you don't like it, you could just imagine another choice ᯓᡣ𐭩

link 2: playlist 4 all the songs I mentioned!

not proofread!

˚⊱ GETTING READY ⊰˚

— ꩜ .ᐟ —

White Riot by The Clash and various other songs on your CD player were playing on your stereo in the background as you got ready for prom. You kept your makeup pretty much the same as how you'd wear it on a normal school day, just a little bit more “glammed up.” Your hair was left down and sort of teased. Your mom always said that you looked you were going to he struck by lightning. Really, it was just the look of the 80s for hair. It really wasn't a big deal.. for you, at least.

Rabid by The Damned. Putting on your dress. A nice blue with the top that had no sleeves and beautiful designs. The dress had a lace cover on top of it that was black and had flower designs. You bought a black pair of gloves that went nicely with the dress. You chose to wear your favorite jewlery and hair accessories that complimented the blue color of your dress.

Go Away by Strawberry Switchblade. Sam pages that he's a street down. You squeal and check yourself out in the mirror. Cute! You take photos on your portable camera for memories. You're going to take so many! Wait.. change the song.. this doesn't fit the mood! Great song, though. Maybe if you and Sam break up, you'll blast this every second of the day, but God forbid that.

There is no song for now.. you're just waiting for Sam to come through the door. Your dad comes up and knocks on the door a few moments later. "Sugar, your date is here." He says and immediately walks back downstairs. Now, it was your time to shine. Sam's eyes were glued on the dress, your hair, your makeup—everything. You looked perfect, but he wasn't going to admit it. That's too.. movie like and corny. "You look good." Was all he managed to say.

Your parents took countless photos. Poses on the stairs, outside in the garden, on a beautifully architectured balcony from upstairs that captured the sunset behind you and Sam. Hell, they even took photos of you getting into the car and driving away.

ּ˚⊱ THE FUNCTION ⊰˚

More photos, great. Sam thinks, rolling his eyes as you and him are next in line. It's not like you could even pass. It was sort of mandatory to have your photo taken to get into the place.

He was #serving face with no smile, but he also didn't look mad. Just neutral. "Look, it's Jessica!" You point out your friend and drag Sam with you to go say hi to her and her boyfriend. As you and Jessica fangirl over your outfits, the boys talk about how the music wasn't terrible. "We should get some drinks before they wanna dance.." Sam suggests and Jameson nods. "Agreed, man." He sighs and leaves Jessica with you.

"Ugh. Jerks." You place your hands on your hips. "Yup. What!everrr! We don't need them in order to have a good time. Let's go dance, girl!" Jessica locks your arms together and leads you to the dance floor. When You're Near Me I Have Difficulty by XTC. Another great song. Good vibe to dance to.

Your boyfriends watch you from afar with grins. "They're so dumb." Sam laughs, biting the plastic cup. "Yeah, I'm not gonna dance tonight." James says. But then Give Me Back My Man by The B-52's started playing. That happened to be one of James's favorite songs of all time. It was so catchy, and he liked the vibe. "Gotta go, man!" James smiles and scurries to the dance floor with you and Jessica. "GIVE ME! GIVE BACK MY MAAAN!" He yells while dancing along.

Sam stayed in a dark spot with his friends where he could see you having fun. There was just no way he was going to dance. That is so embarrassing and lame! But who's playing these songs? They really weren't bad at all. Not usually Sam's cup of tea, but he could get down with this music. He glances over to the DJ booth to see no one other than Corey, his best friend. Sam walks over with a grin and punches Corey's shoulder. "Dude, no wonder these songs are alright. I mean, your music taste is kinda gay, so." Sam messes with the blond.

"Yeah, man, they're horkin' up 15 dollars an hour!" Corey yells over the music. "Here's your favorite." Core winks and switches the song to Let's Go To Bed by The Cure. "You're fucking joking. This song was never my favorite." Sam scoffs. "It's alright." He shrugs. "DO DOO DOO DOO DO DOOO!!" Corey sings to the beat. "HEY LOOK, JOSH IS TRYING TO TOUCH ON YOUR GIRL!" Corey points at you, and Sam practically breaks his neck to see what was going on. It wasn't true. "That's not funny!" He smacks Corey. "Come on dude, I was just.. JOSHING you. HA HAAAAA!!!"

Sam was now sort of paranoid that Josh would actually appear and try to make a move on you, so he finally caved and went to the dance floor with you but didn't dance. He was just having a conversation with Jessica about something for a summer job they were both applying to. Sugar Hiccup by Cocteau Twins. It's of your favorite songs! You begged and begged and begged Sam to dance, and he gave in just because you said you'd get high with him later at an after party.

Jameson snuck some #liquaa😝 into the party and gave some to Sam for your sake.. so that Sam wouldn't be such a bitch about dancing. The next song was Eternal Flame - The Bangles. Now, things really did feel like a movie.

"This is so sappy." Sam complains, holding your waist as you slowly danced with him. "Yeah, but because you love me so much, you don't care." You smile up at him. "Yeah.....😬" He says awkwardly. You don't mind. "But seriously, I meant what I said earlier. You look.. uh.. amazing. Beautiful?" He was trying his best not to make it sound fake and forced. "And you look handsome. You added your own touch to the suit." Tou smile. He was wearing a matching blue neck tie to your dress and his suit was black. The shirt he had underneath was.. you don't know. It was hard to tell with the colorful lights.

"Am I gonna get lucky tonight?" He smirks. "Oh my God, Sam. Shhut uuup!" You roll your eyes. Your conversations were just compliments and small kisses throughout the song. "HUH HUH HUH HUUUHH HUH," James ruins your guy's moment as he huns along to True - Spandu Ballet. "Come on guys, you know this oneee!" He says and then keeps on singing along.

James had the floor to himself-preforming a painfully obvious practiced choreography. He was singing along and dancing along. It was funny. He was putting feelings into it, and he was just really passionate about it overall. "You sure he isn't a.. sister, Jess?" Sam asks Jessica. "Man, shut up!" Jess laughed and kept watching her boyfriend.

You took so many photos with your camera and filled in the whole memory. Lots of pictures of Sam, of course! He hardly ever likes to take photos, so now that tonight he was in a good mood, he let you and you took advantage of the opportunity.

Sam takes you to a hotel where almost everyone is staying. Did he get lucky? Yeah.. and he was happy about it, but he was happier that you were there with him for the night. Feeling your warm body and seeing your pretty face before he falls asleep and then seeing it first thing when he wakes. This is heaven.

UHHH I DONT REALLY LIKE THE ENDING.. but here we are sorry it took a jizzilion años..

@bxbyysstuff @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @valloos @anisangeldust @xo-yaaaaaasxo @anakinca @dollfilmz @alexlovesysrjune @sockiess @sythethecarrot @speaknow-sw @loveamira @alealuvshayden @mvst4far @prettiestmini @amiratheangel @blckberrie

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mischievousmoony · 23 hours ago

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Ooo could you pls write head canons about Remus x reader going on a trip abroad after graduation pls

jolie's summer kickoff 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐬 from the cooler ⋮ aka headcanons contains: remus lupin x fem!reader, 70s vibes

You and Remus want to have one last adventure before entering the real world, and what better way to do that than to travel abroad!

The only problem: you’re working with a tight budget. But no one said it had to be extravagant! You can backpack through Europe, stay in hostels, eat cheap meals, and still visit all the countries on your bucket list!

So, that’s exactly what you do!

James, Sirius, and Peter wanted to go with you guys, of course. And they try sooo hard to convince you to bring them, but Remus puts his foot down. This trip is just for the two of you. But maybe the other marauders will catch up with you two on one of your many stops

But for the most part, it’s just the two of you. From Spain, to France, to Italy. Germany, to Croatia, to Greece—you guys go all over. Just you, him, and whatever you can carry on your backs.

It’s not some luxurious, all-inclusive, five-star vacation. But you don’t need it to be and neither does he.

Sometimes Remus does feel a little bit bad when he sees you eyeing pretty things that he can’t afford to buy for you. The cosmos knows you deserve every last one of them. But he doesn’t have the means to pay for souvenirs from every city, or carry a surplus of them in your backpacks.

But what he can give you is memories. After all, you get to visit so many beautiful places! And he has a camera to capture every moment

He takes pictures of every view you say is pretty, every place you say you love. Pictures of you two together, in every city. and a lot of pictures of you, even when you’re not looking.

When your trip eventually comes to a close, Remus’ first order of business is to develop all the pictures he took

I think he’d put them in a book for you, and you’d find that most of the photos have little notes on the back, along with the date and the city.

A picture of you lounging on a beach in Barcelona. “Not pictured: Remus’ sun blisters.”

A photo of you (that you didn’t know existed) sleeping on Remus’ shoulder on a train. “She snores!”

A photo of the two of you, gelato smeared on both your noses. “She started it.”

There’s a photo of a sunset over an Italian coastline with a note on the back in Remus’ scraggly handwriting. “If only I could capture the awe in her voice when she saw this view.”

You’ve flipped through the book twice by the time Remus tells you, “I wanted to make sure you had something special from our trip. Since there were so many things I couldn’t get you.”

You obviously throw your arms around Remus and tell him that the trip was nothing short of perfection. That the only thing you could ever want or need was right here in your arms.

And he feels the very same about you.

#jolie's summer kickoff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin headcanons #remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin imagines #remus lupin x reader headcanons #headcanons #fluff #mischievousmoony

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deadbydemand389 · 4 hours ago

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Always for you

I’ve had this scene playing in my mind ever since I first saw the movie. Bear with me.

Best friends to lovers but make it filthy — horror movie nights, shared hoodies, slow-burn tension finally snapping into messy kisses, pierced boys with soft hearts, and the kind of “i love you” that wrecks you in the best way. they were always meant to fall—just didn’t know how hard. also yeah... his tongue piercing did things.

⚠️ Warning: smut. filthy smut. soft emotions. language. horny best friend energy. 18+ only.

You and Erik? Best friends. Ride-or-die. You dated other guys, sure—but it never got serious. Every time things started getting real, you’d just... shut down. In your head, none of it mattered. You had Erik. And he was everything you ever needed in a man. Soft cuddles. Horror movie nights (he lived for horror, the weirdo). Endless 2 a.m. conversations until the sun crept through the windows. Family dinners. And those little, forbidden touches—so casual, no one ever questioned them. A hand on your hip to steady you at a concert. Fingers laced with yours when anxiety threatened to spiral.

It made your heart stutter. But say something? Risk this? Ruin what you had for a few traitorous butterflies? Hell no.

You’d ruffle his hair, place your hand on the back of his neck every time he said something so stupidly cute it made you forget he was this pierced-up, inked-to-hell bad boy (and yeah, you knew about that piercing too). You had feelings, no doubt. But cuddling into his chest on a Friday night felt safer than risking it all.

And then there was her. Brina. That smug, plastic little heart-shredder. After she broke him, you were the one who picked up the pieces. Three straight months of late-night crying and way too much whiskey. You. Always you.

It started as a regular night at the Campbells'. You were playing Until Dawn—again. Legs thrown over Erik’s lap. Comfortable. Familiar.

“GO FASTER! ERIK—PRESS THE DAMN TRIANGLE!”

“I’M TRYING! This thing’s broken, I swear—”

You grabbed the controller, definitely not thinking about how big and inked his hands were. Nope. Not even a little.

“Give me that! You play like a twat—Wendigo’s about to eat Jessica and Matt, and you're over here flailing like a grandma on Wii Sports!”

You beat the level—barely—and smirked. “Matt’s too hot to die.”

Erik laughed, that deep, throaty sound that always got under your skin. “Jessica’s hotter. She deserves to live.”

“You only say that because she looks like fucking Brenda.”

“Brina, Y/N. Brina.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you almost sprained something. “Whatever. Save the game. We need to get ready for Jessica’s birthday before your mom kills us.”

You stood up—or tried to. A firm hand yanked you back onto the couch. Erik was on top of you, hovering close. Too close.

“Where do you think you're going after calling me a twat?” His smirk was dangerous—pure sin. Your brain screamed do not soak your panties, but it was a losing battle.

“Get off. I’m already sweating.”

His eyes darkened. That look. You hadn't seen it since he punched your ex for slapping you in public—and yeah, that trip to the police station was worth every second.

“Kiki?” you asked, voice low. If he kept looking at you like that...

His leg slid between yours. His breath was minty. His lips soft. The space between you? Non-existent.

“Y/N—”

“HAS ANYONE SEEN PACO?! I’M STARTING TO PANIC!” Bobby barged in like the goddamn Kool-Aid Man, derailing the moment with all the grace of a freight train.

Erik groaned, helping you sit up. “Come on, Foxy. Let’s get dressed.”

“Yeah. In a minute.” You watched him walk away, heart thudding, panties—yep, soaked. Fantastic.

“Paco’s in the fridge, Bobby. Delicious side dish.” Erik smirked.

“Oh thank God. Then who the hell did I put in his cage?” Cue: beef jerky in a lizard tank. You wheezed.

Later that night, after Jessica’s party, all the siblings were crammed in the car. You offered to Uber to avoid the chaos.

“Don’t be stupid. Y/N can sit on my lap,” Erik said, hand resting on your shoulder.

“Promise I won’t get a boner,” he whispered, his palm sliding to your waist.

“Yeah? Bet.”

The car ride was quiet. Parents up front. Bobby passed out. Jessica glued to her phone.

You? Tortured.

Short skirt. G-string. Erik’s lap. Worst. Decision. Ever.

“Remember when we first heard this song?” he asked as House of Balloons played.

You leaned back against his chest, fingers intertwining with his on your thigh. “Yeah. Then someone ruined it by playing it on loop for 24 hours.”

He chuckled. “Only because I couldn’t stop thinking about you that day.”

Your breath caught. His hand tilted your chin to face him. Eyes locked. Lips close.

“You looked beautiful tonight, Peach.”

You kissed his cheek, squeezing his hand the way you do during panic attacks—the silent I’m okay now, because of you.

“Can I stay over tonight?” you asked, voice louder so his parents could hear.

“Of course, sweetheart,” his mom replied. “Erik, be nice this time.”

You squeezed his hand again, drawing his attention back. “Yeah, Mom. I’ll be nice.”

The last 10 minutes of the ride were spent with Erik softly kissing your cheek, hand creeping dangerously high on your thigh. Your hips shifted. His bulge pressed against you.

“You lost the bet,” you whispered.

“You’re such a brat sometimes,” he murmured, draping his jacket over your lap, hand slipping under.

“What are you—”

Hot. His hand on your panties. Soaked.

“Fuck, Erik—”

“All that for me? Maybe you’re a good girl after all, Peach.”

You were melting. You needed more. More of him. More of his everything.

“It was always for you,” you whispered. His eyes widened, the smugness replaced by something softer. Real.

“We’re home!” his dad called. “Let’s go!”

Erik helped you out of the car. You both avoided each other for the next 40 minutes. Separate showers. Awkward silences. Doubt creeping in.

Did you mess it up?

Later, lying in his bed, backs turned, dim light casting long shadows—you couldn’t take it anymore.

You climbed out of bed and straddled him, waking him up.

“Kiki…”

“Peach? You okay, love?”

Love. That did it.

“I love you,” you blurted out, palm flat against his tattooed chest.

Silence. Your brain screamed. Panic. Regret.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” you babbled. “I just had to say it. And if it ruins things, I’m sorry, I’ll drop it, we can go back—”

You didn’t finish.

Because Erik kissed you like his life depended on it.

Tongues,, desperation.His fingers tangled in your hair. Yours clawed at his back.

“Do best friends kiss like this?” he murmured, breathless.

He kissed your collarbone, biting down just enough to leave a mark.

“I’ve been in love with you since you tripped and made me slam my head on the concrete in third grade, my Peach.”

“Erik… kiss me.”

And he did.

Your mind was spiraling. Is this really happening? You forgot how to breathe. His lips—soft, warm, sinful—had you melting into the moment.

“What took us so long?” he murmured against your mouth between fevered kisses.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, breathless. “But god, ... I need you. Don’t hold back. Please.”

You paused just long enough to meet his gaze—and there it was. That dark, dangerous glint in his eyes. The one you’d secretly begged for in a hundred quiet fantasies.

The devil had finally answered.

With a growl deep in his throat, Erik grabbed your thighs and flipped you onto the bed like you weighed nothing. Your back hit the mattress with a soft thud, and before you could even blink, his lips were back on yours—hot, greedy, possessive.

He kissed you like a starving man, like he'd waited years for this moment. And you? You surrendered to it, every single part of you burning for more.

You could feel his bulge growing, hard and heavy against your thigh. His hands slipped beneath your—his—shirt, cupping your breasts like they belonged to him. Like they’d always been his to touch, to hold. The way his palms fit you was almost unfair.

Your moans—soft, breathy, desperate—drove him over the edge. He couldn’t hold back anymore.

In one slow, deliberate motion, he slid your panties down your legs, his eyes never leaving you. He paused, gaze devouring the sight of you in his shirt, laid out on his bed, wrapped up in his arms.

Exactly where you were meant to be.

He could count the times he had imagined this moment. You, exactly like this. But now it was real—and for once, there was no guilt weighing him down. Just you, and the way you looked at him like he was your whole world.

“Gorgeous,” he breathed, voice low and reverent. “And mine.”

His hand trailed down your body, fingers brushing your heat—light touches that made your hips jerk and your breath hitch. You were trembling under him, your body aching, begging.

“Please, baby... touch me,” you whispered, your voice cracked and breathless. Was that really you? Desperate, pleading for the thing you’d craved for so long.

He didn’t tease you this time.

He pushed one thick finger inside, and you nearly came undone—your body arched, a choked moan slipping past your lips as pleasure took over.

“Oh God—” you gasped, trying to muffle your cries with your hand, terrified the whole neighborhood might hear.

But he just smirked, dark and wicked, the devil in human form.

“God’s not here, Peach,” he growled. “Beg for me, not Him.”

And then he slid the shirt up, exposing your chest. One hand still working you mercilessly, the other grabbing your breast, fingers rough and hungry. His mouth followed, lips wrapping around your nipple, tongue teasing, sucking—claiming.

Every part of you was unraveling.

I need you to stop covering your moans, baby,” he pleaded, his voice husky, strained with need. “I need to hear your voice. Don’t hide from me.”

The way he said it—don’t hide from me—it cracked something open inside you. You were already blushing so hard you could barely remember your own name. But the way he looked at you, like your pleasure was the only thing that mattered in the world, made you want to give him everything.

“Erik… please,” you whispered, breath hitching, eyes glassy with heat and emotion.

Your hands fell away from your mouth, lips parted, chest rising with each shallow breath. And when his fingers moved again—slower this time, deeper—you let the moan out. Loud, raw, unfiltered.

And Erik? He looked like a man finally tasting heaven.

He took his time, working his fingers inside you with maddening control—first one, then two. Each thrust stretched and filled you in ways that made your back arch off the bed, every nerve begging for more. You bit your lip hard, trying not to scream his name, but the tension building in your core was impossible to hide.

Then he moved lower. You barely had time to breathe before his mouth was on you, tongue stroking your most sensitive spot, licking you like a man possessed. Holy hell— he wasn’t just good at this. He was lethal.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, trembling. “I’m so glad you got that tongue piercing—fuck—”

That comment alone could’ve made his ego break the ceiling, if it hadn’t already. He glanced up at you, smug but focused, eyes locked on your every breath, every twitch, every flutter of your lashes as he pulled you closer and closer to that edge.

“I’m gonna cum if you keep going like that,” you warned, voice cracking.

But he didn’t stop. He devoured you—slow, deep, hungry licks that sent shivers through your entire body. And every time that cold metal barbell rolled against your clit, it sent a jolt straight through your spine. You were burning, unraveling, teetering on the edge of total destruction—

Then he stopped.

Your breath caught. “Why—?”

Before you could even finish the question, he was above you, thick and hard in his hand, the head of his cock glistening as he rubbed it against your entrance—ready. Perfect. Dangerous in the best possible way.

You couldn’t look away. Sure, you’d caught glimpses before—quick peeks in the bathroom when he forgot to lock the door—but now? Now it was right in front of you in all its gorgeous, pierced glory.

“Like what you see, princess?” he smirked, cocky and damn well knowing the answer.

You didn’t reply. Couldn’t. You were soaked—drenched—just from looking at him.

He leaned down, kissed you hard, rough and claiming, before his mouth moved to your breasts again, lavishing attention like they were sacred. But his hands? Gentle. Careful. Like you were something rare.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” he whispered, that flicker of worry in his eyes—because you knew, no matter how wild this got, he cared. So much.

You reached up, placing your palm on his cheek. He kissed it softly.

“I love you,” you whispered, brushing your lips to his. “But I really need you right now.”

And that was all it took.

His eyes darkened, something primal overtaking him, and then he was inside you—deep, raw, thick.

The first thrust knocked the breath from your lungs. He moved like a man losing control, hips snapping forward with power and purpose—but still kissing you softly, like he needed you to know this was more than lust. This was everything.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he filled you over and over, his pace brutal, the stretch intoxicating. The friction. The heat. The way he whispered your name in your ear like it was a sacred prayer.

You came undone—hard and fast—your whole body shaking as the climax ripped through you like a tidal wave.

He followed right after, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as he buried himself to the hilt, coming deep inside you with one final, shattering thrust.

And then—for a moment—there was only silence. The sound of your breathing, tangled limbs, and the weight of years of want finally fulfilled.

He pulled you into his arms, bodies still tangled in warmth, your fingers laced tightly together. His eyes—stormy, glowing like stars—locked onto yours as if he couldn’t believe you were real.

“I can’t believe we actually did that,” he murmured, breathless, voice low with disbelief and something softer—something real.

You giggled, brushing the sweaty strands of hair out of his eyes. “Believe it, Campbell.”

His gaze stayed fixed on you like you were something sacred. “I love you, Y/N. Please, please let this not be another one of my horny-ass dreams or I swear to—”

You silenced him with a slow, lingering kiss, your lips smiling against his. “It’s not, you dork. But if you’re still not sure…” You winked. “We could go one more round—just to really make it sink in.”

That was all it took.

With a mischievous grin, he scooped you back into his lap, hands firm on your hips like he never wanted to let you go. He stared at you in total awe—Erik Campbell, pierced and inked and bruised by life, finally letting himself feel love, not just lust.

And you saw it written all over his face.

“I love you too, dork,” you whispered, nuzzling into the curve of his neck.

Within moments, you drifted off, curled against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. And Erik?

He held you like you were everything.

Because to him, you were.

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