#this is a nice and easy thing to do after work drained me! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

freyito · 1 month ago

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ᴇxᴛʀᴀ ᴅᴏꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏᴠɪɴ'

✭ pairing(s): boothill, gallagher, mydei, phainon (seperate) x reader

✩ in which: they give you some extra tlc

✧ a/n: hiii :,) i accidentally became important at work withiun the first motnh sofics are suuuper slow. ive also just been struggling with motivation AND my grandpa died and then not even a day later i was watching a tornado do its thing right infront of my workplace. so!

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 1.6k

⎯ Boothill

Usually, BOOTHILL is the one in need of a little extra love. Running across the galaxy for months at a time can take a lot out of him. Even with his impressive will, he can find himself drained sometimes. Sure, he’s always found peace out in the wild, under a star-painted sky, but he still can’t help but crave some sort of human connection, a way to recharge and remind him of what little humanity he has left. He won’t say anything, and he barely shows just how tired he is when he comes home, always wearing that damn smile. No matter if he had killed anyone on the trip, if he had been chased, if he had been damn near blown apart; he is never without that smile when he returns to you.

While he makes it extra hard for you to read him, he can read you exceptionally well. No matter how well you think you hide it, he always finds something. Your shoulders may be slumped, there’s a furrow in your brow, your voice doesn’t sound too confident… he knows.

“C’mon, darlin’, ain’t gotta hide from me,” Boothill coos, coming up from behind you and wrapping one arm around your waist. “If somethin’s wrong, just say so.”

All you can find yourself doing is huff, and lean back into his chest. He laughs out a soft ‘awh’, before hoisting you up into his arms. He carries you off to the bedroom, setting you down gently on the bed.

Now, when it comes to TLC, Boothill practically has a checklist. The first task is to make sure you're comfortable, and happy, of course. The second task is making sure your wants are attended to. This usually manifests in him giving you a quiet space while he goes off into the kitchen to cook for you, usually something warm or sweet (or both!). The goal of this is to give you some time to decompress (whether it be in your bed, or on the couch), but if you choose to follow him to the kitchen instead, he’s quite happy with that, too.

The third task is the most important (to him, at least), and that’s showering you with all the love he can possibly give. Aside from feeding you (which he will do, all you need to ask), he makes it a point to cuddle up to you and pepper your face with kisses. He makes it known just how much he loves you, with all sorts of sweet little praises and whispers. If you prefer spending a quiet night with him instead, he absolutely insists that you come out with him for some stargazing. A nice little night with your beloved under the star-painted sky is a wonderful way to remind yourself to take it easy, live in the present, and just a reminder that there is someone there for you. Even when you don’t want to admit that you need a little extra love.

⎯ Gallagher

Being a bartender, GALLAGHER can easily pick up on any little mood shift. He is also quite good at sniffing out the problem behind your moods, too. It’s actually kind of scary how well he knows you. Stressed? He’s taking care of you. Sad? He’s taking care of you. Mad? He’s taking care of you. Tired– Yes, he’s taking care of you any time he can, and any time you allow him to. Even when you’re being stubborn and trying to tell him you are totally fine.

So, when you come home, a couple hours after your shift was supposed to end, he already had a drink waiting for you. When you completely ignore the little glass and instead choose to practically fall into his arms, his disappointment is immediately replaced with a sense of happiness– Not that you’ve had a bad day, but the fact that you are openly seeking his comfort after one.

“Alright, well, let’s get ya all cozied up, hm?” He hums, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing just a little, then rocking you back and forth softly, while on large hand splays over the small of your back.

Once you’ve relaxed, he guides you back to the couch, before fetching you a bunch of pillows and some blankets. He quite likes to get nice and close with you, but if you want to move to the bed, he’s happy to do that, too. He’ll still stay just as close, though. He also orders any food you want, those outrageous delivery costs be damned. Even if you want several different things from several different restaurants, he will cater to your whims. This spoiling is only the start, really.

It seems he physically cannot leave you. He always has to be touching you in some way, even if he just has his pinky linked to yours. There’s always a warm hand on your hip or thigh, and if he can, he’s pulling you up to his chest. He has to be close, not just for the day but practically for the whole week. He always finds some way to come back to you, even if he’s working. He could be stationed all the way across the city and still come home to see you on his break, all for five seconds to hold you.

⎯ Mydeimos

‘Stress’ doesn’t exist in the Kremnoan language. Or so MYDEI says. That being said, his tolerance is much higher than yours. Something about being ‘forged in war’... But he never faults you if you’re feeling down. As much as he thinks a nice meal will make you feel much better, he understands that there is always more to it. While he chooses to neglect his own emotions, and ignore what eats at him, he is almost the exact opposite when it comes to you.

Granted, he doesn’t like to let you know that he knows you are stressed. At least, not verbally. Something hidden deep within him, something cheeky, likes to keep things a surprise. As boyish as it is for a warrior like him, he truly can’t help it. There’s something about the way your eyes light up and the way you soften when he does anything for you, especially unprompted.

“Here you are, my love,” Mydei murmurs from behind you, placing a plate of soutzoukakia and rice on your desk. “You seemed hungry, so I made you something.”

It was true, you really were hungry. But, you found yourself so engrossed in your work, hunched over your desk as you stared at your laptop. You had long since lost the plot of the piece you were supposed to be editing, and in turn, that made you feel burnt out. The deadline was in a few days, but you were already on the last few pages, and really wanted to get it finished by the end of the day. In doing so, it seems you have worried your lover.

Before you get a chance to thank him, he places his hands on your shoulders, pressing into them. You can’t help but lean back into him, as he huffs out a soft chuckle. He doesn’t say anymore as his thumbs press into the back of your shoulders, but in the back of his mind, all he can think is ‘See? You overwork yourself’.

He continues to massage your shoulders for another minute in silence, eyes heavy lidded as he watches you relax. He pulls away after a beat, leading you to look up at him. His smile is so gentle, so kind, something you know is only for you. Once he’s satisfied with how content you look, he leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, smoothing his hands down your shoulders to your arms. He then leaves you to eat, choosing to go about his day in the background. It’s a calming sort of ambience, the shuffling behind you and the grunts and sighs as he begins his afternoon workout. Sure, the noises could be a little more… quiet. But, at this point, you’ve grown used to it. So used to it, that it’s comforting.

⎯ Phainon

Oh, PHAINON, dear Phainon, nothing gets past him. He practically grew up comforting people, and as such, he understood all your tells before you two even started dating. Therefore, you get pampered before you even realize the stress is setting in. As such, with him, you truly never feel… down. He loves and dotes on you too much to feel like you need anything extra.

Sometimes, however, it does slip past him. He doesn’t beat himself up over it, really, he takes it as a sign to do better. Besides, who would be mad at a little more love? Certainly not you, with the way he cuddles up to you the minute you come home. He’s so damn close to just throwing you over his shoulder and throwing you in bed, keeping you there for a week tops. Probably more.

“C’mon, you and me are gonna hide away from the world for a bit,” He laughs, fingers linking with yours as he pulls you along to the bedroom.

You two lay in the bed, just simply staring at each other for a long while. At most, it’s only five moments, but it feels like an eternity. He holds you so close, legs tangled up, warm hands splayed across your back. He rubs soothingly up and down your spine, blinking slowly like a content cat (despite being more like a puppy at this moment).

For a while, he looks like he could just fall asleep then and there, holding you even closer like you were some plush toy. Then, just as you feel yourself getting sleepy, he presses a kiss to your shoulder. Then the crook of your neck, then your neck, and one, two, three more kisses to your face– a thousand more kisses to your face. He decides in that moment, when you finally look relaxed and calm, that he can’t let you end the day without laughing first.

#⁺◟freyito #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #boothill x reader #boothill hsr x reader #gallagher x reader #gallagher hsr x reader #mydei x reader #mydei hsr x reader #mydeimos x reader #phainon x reader #phainon hsr x reader

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satsugo · 12 days ago

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୨୧ you mention a coworker being “sweet.” gojo doesn’t like that. later that night, he shows you what happens when someone else touches what’s his. mlist

yandere!gojo gets extra mean when he’s jealous — but don’t worry, he kisses it better after. sry I've been stuck in a yandere x reader mood! hope you enjoyed the chaos, sweetness ♡ reblogs and screams in the tags are always welcome.

gojo satoru x reader

minors do not interact. this piece is intended for 18+ audiences. contains the following: yandere behavior, hand-tying (with a blindfold), oral (fem receiving), rough possessive language, overstimulation, mild threat kink, praise kink, soft aftercare.

It started as a joke.

You were curled up on the couch beside him, laughing about your day, sipping wine, legs draped across his lap. He was loose-limbed and quiet, eyes half-lidded, lips curled into a lazy smile.

“He’s actually really sweet,” you said. “Like… surprisingly nice. Not weird or flirty. Just normal. Which is rare at work.”

Gojo’s fingers stilled on your calf.

You didn’t notice.

“He brought me a coffee this morning,” you added. “Exactly how I like it. No cream.”

He hummed — not a happy sound.

You blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, brushing his thumb over your ankle. “Just… wondering how he knows how you like your coffee.”

You shrugged. “I talk about it all the time. Probably overheard.”

His jaw flexed.

“Did you thank him?”

“Well… yeah?”

Gojo didn’t respond. Just leaned back, silent. Thoughtful.

You didn’t realize the shift until later.

You woke up to soft sheets and quiet tension. Hands above your head. Tied — not tightly, but firm enough. Gojo’s silk blindfold wrapped around your wrists.

“Satoru?”

He didn’t answer right away.

You felt him before you saw him — warm breath at your neck, one knee pushing between your thighs, bare skin pressing into yours.

“Was he sweet like this?” he murmured against your collarbone. “Did he make you feel special?”

You squirmed. “What—”

“I’ve let you off easy,” he whispered, tongue grazing your pulse. “Let you laugh, let you talk. But you don’t get to smile about other men. You don’t get to call them sweet.”

His hand slid between your legs — warm, confident, claiming.

“That’s mine.”

You whimpered as his fingers teased your slit, already soaked. He chuckled darkly.

“You say one thing,” he said, biting your earlobe, “but your body says another.”

“I wasn’t flirting—”

“I know.” His voice dipped, almost gentle. “But he thought about it. Bet he imagined what you sound like when you come.”

You tried to pull your hands free — instinct — but the blindfold held firm.

“Shh,” he murmured. “You don’t need those.”

Then his mouth was on you.

Hot. Wet. Starving.

He spread your thighs wide, tongue dragging through your folds, groaning like the taste alone was enough to anchor him.

“You don’t even get it,” he panted between licks. “You don’t see how good you are. How fuckin’ lucky I am.”

You gasped, hips rising.

He gripped your thighs tighter.

“No. Stay still.”

His tongue circled your clit, slow and intentional, then sucked — just once, hard enough to make you cry out.

“He’ll never see you like this,” Gojo growled. “Never get to hear these sounds. Never get this messy for him.”

Your orgasm hit like a wave, legs shaking, breath hitching as he kept licking through it.

He let you come down, slowly, gently. Pressed kisses up your stomach, over your breasts, to your throat.

You couldn’t see him. Could only feel the weight of his stare.

“Only I get this,” he whispered. “Say it.”

“Only you,” you breathed. “Only you.”

He kissed your lips then — deep and slow, like the fury had drained and left only reverence.

“Good girl.”

Later, your hands freed, you curled into his chest. His fingers ran through your hair, light and soothing.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I just… don’t like sharing.”

You smiled against his skin. “You never have.”

“You’re mine,” he whispered again. “That won’t change.”

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becomingthatgirl111 · 1 month ago

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How to Be That Girl This Summer – Without Burning Out

You’ve probably seen the “That Girl” aesthetic all over your feed—green smoothies, 6 AM workouts, matching sets, and perfectly curated routines. But let’s be real: being That Girl isn’t about looking perfect. It’s about creating a lifestyle that actually makes you feel good—from the inside out.

So this summer, let’s redefine what it means to be That Girl. Here’s your realistic, soul-nourishing guide to becoming your best self this season.

1. Wake Up With Intention, Not Perfection

Forget the 5 AM alarm if it doesn’t serve you. That Girl energy means waking up when it works for you, and using the first 10–20 minutes to set the tone:

• No scrolling.

• Open the windows.

• Stretch, hydrate, and journal a thought or intention for the day.

It’s not about being “productive”—it’s about being present.

2. Eat Like You Love Yourself

Summer is a beautiful time to nourish your body with colorful, whole foods that support your energy and mood. Instead of strict diets or “cleanses,” focus on adding:

• Hydrating fruits like watermelon, cucumber, and berries.

• Mood-boosting fats like avocado, nuts, and olive oil.

• Energizing carbs like quinoa, oats, and sweet potatoes.

And yes—you can absolutely enjoy ice cream or a cold drink on a terrace. Balance is key. That’s what makes it sustainable.

3. Move Every Day (But Listen to Your Body)

You don’t need to do hardcore workouts every day. This summer, try:

• A quick full-body circuit at home or the gym (20–30 mins).

• Morning Pilates or yoga in the park.

• Evening walks with a podcast or barefoot beach walks.

Try this idea: Pick a movement mood for each day of the week—“Stretchy Sunday”, “That Girl Friday”, “Walk & Podcast Thursday”. Make it fun and intuitive.

4. Romanticize the Little Things

Here’s a habit not every creator tells you: turn the ordinary into something beautiful.

• Use the nice glass for your iced coffee.

• Read in the sun with your favorite playlist in the background.

• Plan a “solo date” to a bookstore, museum, or your local café.

• Keep a summer joy list and try to check off one small joy per day.

5. Protect Your Energy Online & Offline

Being That Girl means being conscious of what you consume—not just food, but content, conversations, and environments.

• Unfollow accounts that drain or pressure you.

• Say no to plans that don’t align with your peace.

• Curate a digital space that inspires growth, not comparison.

Your mental wellness is sacred. Protect it like your favorite lip balm in the heat. 😌

6. Summer Self-Care Rituals You’ll Actually Stick To

Create your own seasonal self-care menu. Here are ideas:

• Aloe vera face masks after a sunny day

• Journaling with iced tea on your balcony

• A 5-minute gratitude list at sunset

• Weekly “check-in” walks without your phone

The goal? Make it easy, soft, and realistic. Let summer be a time of reset, not pressure.

Let’s Make This That Girl Summer the Healthiest One Yet

You don’t need to do what everyone else is doing. You just need to find what feels good, true, and energizing for you. Build small habits you actually enjoy. Choose joy. Hydrate. Move. Laugh. Let this summer be soft, slow, strong, and full of soul.

Would you follow a page where I post all my wellness guides, routines, and exclusive content off social media? I’ve been thinking about building a full platform just for us—with organized tips, printables, and even challenges. Let me know in the comments or send me a message if that’s something you’d love to see!

Let me know in the comments:

✨What’s one habit you’re focusing on this summer?

Or��

🍓Would you like a printable That Girl Summer Checklist?

#thatgirlsummer #wellnessblog #summerhabits #healthyhabits #fitnessroutine #cleaneating #selfcareguide #wellnesslifestyle #that girl #self love #high value mindset #it girl #mindset #pink pilates princess #clean girl #habits #self improvement #self worth

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jynxpsiche · 6 months ago

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no me mires con esos ojos

kang dae ho (player 388) x fem!reader

🎐. summary: you didn't know that the opportunity offered to you by that strange man in the subway was going to be a dead game, but mostly you didn't know that even in a scaring place like this it was easy to catch some feelings.

🎐. warnings: doesn’t precisely follow season 2, maybe some spoilers, female reader,swearing, typical squid game gore & violence, minor character death, slight angst, slight suggestive (??), romance & fluff. English isn’t my first language!

Your sensibility and your kind heart led you to where you were right now. An unknown place with hundreds of unknown and untrustful people.

Your sick mother was the only one left to you and you weren't ready to give up on her too. You had to fight for her and to find money in order to pay for her treatment. Then how did you end up with a debt as huge as yours?

You had always been the most appreciated daughter among the other two siblings you had. Everytime someone asked your mother how did you treat her, she always replied with the most utter honesty. "She's so nice and always worried about me, even though she should go out and enjoy her youth".

Yeah. Your youth. You were only 22 years old and already with an immense debt on your shoulders. It wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair. You also wanted to go out with your friends, laugh with them, joke around and maybe experience love. But you couldn't. You had to drop out of college because of your mother’s illness and you were the only one to care enough about her.

Your other siblings just didn't care. They had followed their path and never looked back, not even when you and your mom needed the most. Now you were alone, working your ass off trying to repay your debt and still finding the adeguate cures for the illness.

Hoewever, your life took a different turn when you had met that strange salesman in that damn subway. You were waiting for train after a draining day at your job when this guy, probably not much older than you, dressed in a grey and seemed-rather-expensive suit approached you with his black silvercase.

"Ma'am, would you like to play a game with me?" That is what he said to you in a calm and polite tone. But why a game?

It's after a round at ddakiji, which was won by you, that you decided to stop there, just because you weren't a gambler and you didn't find entertainment in that.

You noticed how he wore, even if for a second, a surprised expression, but then immediately regained his confident facade. He simply smiled at you and handed you a business card with some strange simbols on a side and a phone number on the other.

That night when you returned home you found yourself sitting on the sofa, staring intently at the card. Which was the right thing to do? That man told you that by playing some games you would have been able to repay your debt and to help your sick parent. But what if it was a scam? You were in no position to fall for one, not with all the burden you were already carrying.

The flame of your lighter was extremely close to the card, ready to burn it, but you stopped yourself at the sound of your parent's coughing. Faint laments and sound of sheets came from the other room and that was the moment you realized for what you were fighting for.

And that's how you where there, in an unfamiliar room with not-so-trusting people and a negative vibe lingering in the air.

'Til that moment you had been on your own, away from the others players and not engaging in any conversation. Obviously you weren't the only one in that state, but you surely seemed to be the youngest there and that already worried you off.

When everybody gathered confused in the main space of the room a group of pink guards wearing a mask with some symbols entered the room and explained the rules of the game.

The prize money would have risen for every passed game. The total being 45.6 billion wons.

That statement flamed everybody’s spirit and the guards led everyobody out to play the first game.

You were escorted in a huge and long room that resembled a field and at the very end, facing the players, there was a strange doll. "The first game is Red Light, Green Light" a feminine voice explained through the speakers "You need to cross the field without being spotted moving by the doll. If you move or the time finishes you're eliminated".

The game appeared to be easy enough, it was one of those games the kids used to play during recess but your guts where telling you that something was off. It couldn't be this easy.

You closely analyzed the other players, observing how they all had printed on their face a confident expression. All except for one.

A middle aged man, probably in his fifties, but by the look on his face he looked older and so tired, like he went through hell. The hard look in his eyes was distant, lost in the space in front of him. Not so positive thoughts behind those eyes. He seems to know what was going on there, like what to expect from a place like this.

456. That was the number on his jacket. You memorized it, just in case.

Then the game started. Cautiously but quickly you stepped forward, keeping your sight focused on the robot girl. The others started moving too but then the childish girl’s song stopped and you all froze on the spot.

No one dared to move and all the field was enveloped by a sinister silence.

Just a second later, a girl a couple of steps ahead of you moved distressed because of a bee. “Oh shit, I moved!” she said in a laughing tone and then she was shot in her chest, falling on the ground. Blood started pooling around her.

It was at that moment that everything went down hill. Players at the sight of blood and of the dead corpse started screaming and running back, begging to leave.

You heard shots all around you, sending waves of fear in you.

Your vision was starting to blurry, the tears on the verge of escaping your eyes, your hands were trembling slightly and all your anxiety was pressing against your stomach.

You stood still but you were so close to break down.

Then all the shooting sounds stopped, the silence back.

It was broken by that irritating song, the robot girl turned back in her original position.

However, no one dared to move from their position. Only one man moved quickly, reaching the front of the group.

The song ended again and the giant girl turned back towards us. Her eyes scanning everybody.

“THE ROBOT’S EYES CAN DETECT YOUR MOVEMENTS! IF YOU MOVE YOU’RE OUT! He suddenly yelled, keeping his mouth covered. He was player 456. “IT CAN’T DETECT THE MOVEMENT BEHIND SOMETHING!” He continued, showing us his moving hand behind his back. Nothing happened to him, he was still alive.

“SO FORM A LINE BEHIND WHO’S TALLER THAN YOU AND CONTINUE WALKING!” And in an instant, everybody followed his orders, too eager to survive this nightmare.

I ended up behind a tall woman, the number 120 on her back. “From now on I’ll stay behind you” you whispered to her to make your presence known. She didn’t answer but she understood.

While slowly walking forward and keeping an eye on the timer, you managed to reach the safe zone. Only there shaky breath left your lips.

Those who survived were then escorted back to the dorm room and there you spotted the tall woman who gave you shield before.

“Excuse me…” she somehow heard your whispered words and focused her attention on you “I-I wanted to thank you for letting me stay behind you during the game” you thanked her while bowing your head as a sign of gratitude.

Her gentle hand softly patted your shoulder, a small smile on her face “There’s no need”. That was all she said before departing from you.

Only then the guards entered the room again and everybody started begging to go home after what they witnessed. The square-masked guard explained that the could sent us home since we signed the terms & conditions and agreed to stay there and take part in the games.

The situation definitely wasn’t in your favor when again player 456’s voice echoed through the whole room, silencing everyone. “Clause 3 says that we can leave the place only by voting and if the majority decides so. Let us vote.” His voice was firm and his eyes serious and cold, fixated on the guard on the front.

The square-masked guard slowly nodded. “You’re right and your comfort is our main priority. But first let me announce the total you’ve made after the first game.”

A giant piggy bank was lowered from the top center of the room, then filled only in part with money. Everyone was mesmerized at that sight. “Since 91 people were eliminated, you all have accumulated 9.1 billion won”.

Low whispers started rising among the others, not so sure to leave after they’d seen the sum of money. “Now let’s begin with the vote”.

The first to be called up to vote was player 456 who confidently pressed X and went to stand on that side of the room. Right after him there were you, since your number was right after his.

Without a doubt you also pressed X and went near the man, who smiled at you in gratitude. He said to have already played these games before and that it didn’t end well last time. Strangely you trusted him. But you also weren’t ready to die. Not like that.

Unfortunately the O prevailed, so it meant that you had to play another game.

After that moment you a ticked with player 456, who’s name you later discovered to be Seong Gi-hun, and he took you under his wing. He was so nice and acted so fatherly towards you.

Also player 390, who was Gi-hub’s best friend, and then player 001 joined your group.

You felt relieved to have found some allies in this crazy place, people to rely on and that had your back, just like you had theirs.

At 30 minutes before lights off you whispered to Gi-hun that you would have gone quickly to the bathroom. He flashed you a worried expression but you reassured him with a gentle smile.

You stood up and went near the small pink door in the room to ask someome's permission to dismiss yourself.

[ જ⁀➴ ]

It was only a matter of minutes before the lights were turned off for the night but somehow you weren’t too worried about that, maybe because you found some nice people who you could trust.

Despite not being too sure about it, you were fine with it.

After coming back from the bathroom you spotted player 120 by herself, her face concentrated and her brows furrowed in thoughts.

Quietly you approached her stiffed figure and then cleared your throat to make your presence known to her.

Her confused gaze spotted you and when she recognized you she flashed a small smile.

“Something bothering you?” She shook her head lightly, even if her gesture wasn’t so convincing “Just…this whole situation is…absurd. I would have never thought in my whole life to fight to survive in some stupid children games” you clearly caught the distress in her tone.

“I know I should be the last person to say this but you got this, you’re brave and after the stunt you pulled before in the game I think you can pass every other game” your sweet and caring words seemed to have calmed her down a bit, who smiled at you and briefly hugged your side.

What you didn’t notice, however, was a set of eyes observing you from the distance. Kang Dae-ho knew you were part of the team he latter joined but he hadn’t met you yet.

From observing you he thought you were really pretty and kind.

A small blush crept on his cheeks at his own thoughts.

Jung-bae immediately noticed this and nudged him with his shoulder, startling the young man. “Brother Jung-bae! You scared me! Never do that again!” The old former marine simply snickered at his words and then took the spot next to him on the stairs.

“I noticed that look on your face” he commented “and I also understood who you were looking at” his tone became a bit playful and poked slightly Dae-ho in his ribs.

The blush on Dae-ho’s cheeks became more prominent and he tried to hide it but failed miserably because Jung-bae snickered louder.

“J-just shut up, it’s not what you think!” The young man tried to say, pushing the older man’s face away while hiding his face with his other hand.

Jung-bae shook his head amused and then gently patted the guy on his shoulder.

“If you feel something, you should just tell her. You’ll never know when you’ll have the opportunity”.

It was at that moment that time stopped, every sound around him muffled and every figure blurred out, only her was in his view.

Her gracious and warm figure.

Then the lights turned off, only the golden light from the piggy bank and the symbols on the ground emanated some light.

He was still grounded in his spot, didn’t move an inch.

Only a soft tap on his shoulder awoke him dreaming state. Quickly he lifted his gaze and locked his eyes with yours. The girl from before.

You were looking at him with those enchanting and marvelous eyes, so bright and curious. He would have gladly lost himself in them.

‘Oh please don’t look at me with those eyes’

The ex marine’s heart was beating so hard that he was sure he could have had an heart attack. No saliva in his mouth, his tongue so mushy, surely not able to utter out a vowel.

But you were still standing in front of him, waiting for any type of reaction from the guy, simply poked at you like you had grown three heads.

Now worry was starting to creep in when he still didn’t show any responsive sign.

Concerned you crouched down to his level and gently placed your hands on his shoulder, facing him fully and devoting all your attention to him.

At the contact a delicious shiver went down his spine, making him sight out a shaky breath.

“Hey are you okay?” Your voice up close resembled angels’ chorus and for a moment he felt in heaven, cocooned in a warm embrace and protected from outside’s dangers.

And those eyes…they were making him go crazy. Those doe eyes looked up at him all prettily and anxiously, really worried about his well being. He couldn’t have asked for more.

If that was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up ever again.

“Please…don’t look at me with those eyes” unconsciously he breathed out those words in a loving and needy way that he himself woke up from his daydreaming state.

He slapped his hand on his mouth, wide eyes staring scared at the girl in front of him.

His face so red that he thought he would have gone on fire any seconds now.

He had made himself look like a fool in your eyes.

Shame and awkwardness lingered in the room. No one uttered out a words as you both only stared at each other, you taken back by his reaction and him ashamed of the stunt pulled previously.

You were opening your mouth to say something, anything to lighten up the situation, but in a second he run off to his bunk bed, not so far from yours.

An amused chuckle left your lips, a faint blush on your cheeks.

“What an interesting guy…”

#kang dae ho #squid game #squid game 2 #player 388 #dae ho x reader #dae ho #dae ho squid game #kang dae ho x reader #kang daeho #kang daeho x reader #player 388 x reader #kang no eul #the salesman #player 001 #front man #gi hun #thanos #kang ha neul #kang ha neul x reader

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hungharrington · 1 year ago

Note

okay what are ur thoughts on challenging steve to edge himself everyday for no nut november 🫣 do you think he would make it through the entire month????

okay this turned into a whole rambling thought fic ??? a whole 3k of it?? this is hella unedited cos i'm running out the door so i'll be back to check for mistakes but enjoy some sub!steve & some sorta mean!reader, definitely a hint of a humiliation & exhibitionism kink so beware if that isn't your thing! enjoy u horny bastards MDNI this entire blog is 18+

the whole thing comes about because of a playful bicker.

it’s starts with talking about how long you’ve gone without sex— with steve insisting his dry spell before you two started fooling around was way longer and more difficult than yours.

and you had laughed and teased, cooing about how he could absolutely not make it through an entire week without cumming like you did for a whole month— while he insists the opposite is true.

and steve is nothing if not a competitive bastard who loves to try prove people wrong. so you challenge him to last the whole month — no cumming, no nothing.

but you don’t say no touching. and steve, poor, oblivious to the consequences he’s going to feel very soon, figures there’s no harm in giving in to his morning wood, rutting against his sheets with these quiet grunts until he gets bored and rolls out of bed. it’s something he’s done before and his hard-on goes down in the shower like usual & he goes to work far too smug, feeling so confident and ready to brag when he sees you.

you come into family video middle of the day and steve delights, ready to demolish the challenge you’ve set, bragging about his easy morning and his killer restraint.

your eyebrows raise and you look pleasantly surprised — not miffed, like steve hoped you would — and you offer to raise the stakes. leaning over one of the shelves as he works idly, you change the rules a bit… and set a prize if he’s to complete your challenge.

“if you go the whole month, no cumming, i’ll let you fuck me,” you hum, a wicked smile on your mouth at the way steve straightens up. you’ve been fooling around, tucking your hands into each others pants like horny teenagers but you haven’t actually slept together yet. “anywhere you want, any way you want,”

and steve is smarter than he looks, even as you can see this lust glazing over his eyes— options, so many options pour into his mind.

you in his car, in his lap, riding him and making those nice pitiful noises you do. you in his bed, beneath him, head thrown back in his sheets as you cry out. you, against the wall behind the family video, hidden away but only just, moaning into his hand as you try to keep quiet while you fall apart on his cock.

his cock begins to thicken in his pants just at the thought & steve shifts his weight.

“what’s the catch?” he asks.

“to make your challenge more difficult, you have to touch yourself every day of the month.”

“touch myself?”

“mhm,” you nod, eyes darting down to his bulge. your wicked grin grows at the sight of it growing in his jeans. “properly. not just a little touch, a proper jerk off. how long’s it take you to get hot and bothered? let’s say 5 minutes of stroking, each and every day.”

you’ve got this look in your face like you don’t think he can do it — so of course, steve takes the bait.

“easy.” he snips back, eyes narrowing. “hope you’ll spend the month getting prepared to take it. after a whole month of nothing? can’t promise i’ll be too gentle.”

your smile turns almost feline.

and so it begins. the first few days sail by, steve easily using his mornings in bed to stroke his cock idly, feeling his desire swell and then letting it swirl down the drain in a shower that gets colder every day. after the fifth day, steve has to admit it’s not nice — he can feel his mounting urge to cum building up but it’s not terrible. it’s certainly ignorable. he’s got this in the bag.

another five days pass— but now, he’s waking up aching hard. it takes longer now in the shower to get his hard-on to flag and worse when steve realises he has to still jerk off to win your challenge. his hand feels so much softer than usual and his keyed up lust springs to the surface to moment he starts to stroke himself— steve groans lowly, pressing his head against the tiles and tries go think of unpleasant things.

he fucks up on day 13.

his alarm goes off late and his dream had been lewd and vulgar, an endless loop of sinking his fat cock into you and envisioning how wet and warm you’d be around him. his cock is throbbing when he drags himself out of sleep and he realises he’s been humping against the mattress in his sleep.

the cold shower helps, barely. shivering beneath the icy spray, steve stares at his thickened cock and groans— knowing if he wraps his hand around it now and fucks his fist, he’ll cum in a minute.

so he leaves it and goes to work, wound up enough to snap at robin and then apologise 20 minutes later. you come into his work again, having been absent for the last couple of days, and it’s like you can smell it on him.

“hard morning?” you smirk at him.

“fuck off,” he growls, shoving a vcr back onto one of the shelves. then he looks back at you. “i’m still winning your stupid challenge by the way.”

“uh huh,” you say, not believing him at all. “how’s it’s been going? fucking your cock but never getting finish?”

even your words have an effect on him. steve feels his body flush, his dick strain in his pants, his gut churning with heat. he stiffens up and scrambles to think of a reply — but you’re already laughing.

“oh man, we’re not even halfway through the month and i think you could blow in your pants right here.” you muse teasingly. steve grips the shelf tighter and shakes over the fluster you have on him.

“i have more self restraint than that,” he snips back. the flush passes and he resumes his task, flashing you a quick glare.

you nod and hum again, like you don’t believe a thing he’s a saying, and then he’s watching you head out the door again.

the moment steve realises he’s fucked up is when he’s getting into bed. his cock is, thankfully, not hard — even if there is this persistent tug from his balls that never seems to leave. but he hasn’t stroked himself at all today.

painstakingly, he begins to — soft, gentle strokes over his cock, hoping, praying he can get five minutes in without working himself up too bad. it’s futile because it only takes about twenty seconds behind his cock is twitching in his hand, growing heavier, the head of it beginning to dribble pre-cum and steve moans in anguish into his pillow.

he stares at his alarm clock and strokes slowly, so slowly, having to stop every couple of seconds until finally five minutes passes. steve sighs and releases his cock which twitches in response, the head giving a sad spurt of pre-cum. he’s so keyed up he can’t possibly sleep. his cock is so hard it’s throbbing.

as he pulls his boxers up and buries himself under the duvet, but every touch is too stimulating, his skin on fire with how the urge to cum itches beneath it. he ends up having a very cold shoulder at 3am and his cock never fully softens.

it’s brutal from there on out. from day 14 onwards, his cock remains in this permanent state of aching, always half thickened and ready to go the moment it gets some stimulation. which turns out, is far easier to get now— jeans on the tighter side, the right seat, even the rumble of his car beneath him are enough to have steve swearing and pushing at his crotch, willing it to go down.

that’s how you find him on day 20, five minutes late for his shift because he’s staring down at his tented jeans and trying to think of anything to make it go away. your tap on his window makes him startle, seizing in his seat before he realises it’s probably the only person who’s expecting to see him with a boner in public.

“hard morning?” you joke again, this time pointing at his obvious bulge.

steve glares at you. “you already made that joke.”

“and you didn’t appreciate it the first time!” you say back cheerily. you round the front of his car and open the door, plopping yourself in the passenger seat like you own it.

“what are you doing?” steve asks, going to cross his arms but feeling terribly exposed. he settles for covering his groin, muscles twitching at the slight stimulation the weight of his hands does. his hips twitch forward.

“i’ve got a proposition for you,” you say.

steve shakes his head instantly. “nope, no way.”

you laugh at his quick insistence. “wait listen! i think you will want to consider it, okay?”

you pause and when steve doesn’t say anything more, just eyes you warily, you continue.

“i will knock off five whole days off your challenge,” you hold up your hand, fingers splayed out to indicate the number. your mischievous eyes make steve worry. even if five days off makes his challenge that much easier.

“if you do your five minutes today right now.”

steve blinks. his chest flushes hot at your proposal as it sinks in— here, in the parking lot in front of his work, you want him to jerk off for five whole minutes?

“what? right here?” the question bursts out of him.

it’s not busy out in the least. even in the store, steve hasn’t even seen keith walking about or any customers milling around. he knows keith won’t come outside to fetch him and he’s the only car in the parking lot, besides one another that parked down the other end.

“five minutes for five days off,” you say, twiddling your fingers with a wicked smile.

steve considers it, even though he can already feel his cock growing harder beneath his hands. he groans and throws his head back against the headrest. was he really about to do this?

he looks at the time and then starts to undo the button of his jeans. fuck, guess he was.

he steals a glance at you as he pulls down his zipper and tugs his jeans down a couple inches to expose his boxers. the mischief from your smile has faded, a hunger taking its place. steve averts his eyes, far too aware of how his cock twitches in his boxer at your attention.

he slips a hand into his boxers and curls it around his hard cock. a keening noise pulls from his throat and steve blushes scarlet— all his little noises as he’s spiraled into this lustful denial haven’t had an audience until right now.

he shifts his hand up, a slow stroke, but you’re quickly reaching out to grab his wrist, halting to movement. steve opens his eyes, not sure when they had closed, and makes a noise of confusion.

you grin deviously. “wait,” you point to the clock on the dash. “you can go when the minute changes, big boy.”

steve’s hips jump forward at your words, both the name and your denial. he groans before he can help it, his eyes trained intently on the dash. in his hand, his cock leaks pitifully, a wet spot beginning to stain through his boxers.

humiliatingly, you notice it too. “aw, you’re making a mess and you haven’t even started.”

“stop,” steve murmurs, aiming for stern but failing pathetically. the word comes out as a whine. his cheeks glow fiery hot.

you laugh and then tap his wrist— the minute having flicked over just a second ago.

steve starts his stroking, slow and easy, his eyes slipping closed. five minutes, he can do five minutes of jerking off. even if he was suddenly keenly aware of your watchful gaze, of the window beside him, of the pure exposure of the situation.

“that’s not jerking,” you huff disapprovingly. steve’s eyes crinkle open, his mouth already hung open as he pants softly. his hand does another pass over his cock and he smothers a moan into the palm of his hand.

“go faster or it won’t count.” you say wickedly and steve whimpers, his hand obeying without thought. with the way he’s leaking all over himself, it only takes a couple long strokes before he’s making lewd, wet noises as he fucks into his hand.

it shouldn’t be as hot as it is — rubbing his own cock while you watch, eyes darting between his moving hand and his flushed face. steve can hear himself making little noises with every exhale, tiny little whines as he burns up. the coil in his tummy tightens unexpectedly.

“f-fuck-!” he stops his hand completely, gripping the steering wheel with the other as he feels his orgasm swell. it grows closer, so near to tipping over that steve can’t control his hips as they keep moving, rutting into the air frantically, into nothing, as they try to get him over the edge.

it takes another thirty seconds for his breath to catch and steve to settle down enough to not cum immediately. he quivers in his seat. his eyes flutter open to look at you.

“that was really cute,” you muse, eyes almost feline, dragging up and down his body, slow as trickling honey. steve feels his cock twitch at your words, flushing hotly when your eyes dart to his boxers and definitely notice.

“not five minutes though,” you say with teasing tilt in your voice. you point to the clock on the dash. “i think that was… 1 whole minute?”

despite how he tries to stop it, steve can’t help the pathetic noise he makes in response. he wants to be able to finish this stupid fucking challenge you’ve set, wants to prove himself, wants to be good.

he starts moving his hand again before he can consider how bad of an idea it is. he should just say no and do the next ten days. but it’s wet and warm in his hand, the tip of his cock so drippy that he can pretend his hand is yours. you seem pleasantly surprised to see him going again so soon, your lids low as you watch him closely.

“are you normally this loud?”

steve knows you mean the slick noises coming from the way he’s fucking into his hand. he tries to huff but it comes out as a quiet moan and his face flushes hotter again.

he shakes his head instead, his hair scraping against the headrest. god, his neck is burning up. he’s pretty sure he’s never been harder in his life — but fuck, he can’t stop now.

“how- how ma- many minutes?” the words strain to get out, wrapped in his arousal. his nipples peak hard in his shirt, the friction only adding to his pleasure.

at some point, his hand stopped moving all together and his hips started doing all the work. steve presses against the drivers seat, hips lifting off and bucking into his hand and— shit, it’s too much, the sticky boxers are gonna make him cum if he rubs against them one more time.

in haste, he shoves them down his thighs, exposing his cock to you and anyone who deigns to take a peek in his window. something churns in his gut and steve screws his eyes up, willing himself not to cum yet. so close, he’s so close.

“just one more,” you say, suddenly sounding more breathy than before. steve’s eyes snap open, darting over to look at your face — but you’re fixated on his crotch, watching with a hungry expression.

your eyes lift to his face. another devious smile. steve whines. so close, he’s so fucking close, so close he can taste it. he can win, he can do it.

“steve,” you say softly, reaching out to nudge his chin in your direction. he wasn’t aware of when his eyes slipped shut again but your staring him in the face all lovingly, all wickedly and steve wills his orgasm down. another minute, another fucking minute, he can wait, he’s so close he’s— “cum,” you command.

steve does. white hot flashes through his body as he tips over the edge, ecstasy washing over every sense, stronger than he's ever felt before. his cock kicks up in his hand and a whorish moan drags out of his throat as he paints the steering wheel with ropes of cum.

for a minute, steve doesn't give a fuck if he's just lost— he just cares about how fucking good it feels to fuck his fist, to feel every pass over his slit all the way through his body. he whines and whimpers as the feeling tapers off, his hips finally settling down into the seat.

the mortification of what he's done begins to set it, like the drizzles of cum drying on his steering wheel. he can't stop panting, can't think of single word to say, his lips opening and closing as he tries to recover from the best orgasm of his life.

he hears the car door open and it shoots him into gear, stuffing himself back into his sticky boxers, a shiver going down his spine at how unpleasant it feels. oh fuck, and he's got a whole shift ahead of him.

you're still hovering, one hand on the open car door, leaned down and watching him frantically try to recover— all with that damned wicked smile on your face.

you rap your knuckles on the roof of the car. "damn. better luck next month, right harrington?"

you don't sound sorry at all. steve watches you close the door and leave, weaving between the stores and out of sight as his cock softens and his boxers grow colder. he screws his eyes up and smacks his head back against the headrest.

he's so fucking screwed.

#jay writes #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader smut #sub!steve #sub!steve harrington

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goyardgoyangi · 2 months ago

Text

𐙚 busy woman pt. 3 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⌗ pairings: eren x reader, slight! erwin x reader

⌗ summary: you don’t believe in fate, but you do believe in probability. the odds of running into a stupidly attractive guy at a highly competitive internship interview? low. the odds of him rejecting you? …higher. the odds of ending up in the same program — and on the same project team after all that? practically zero. and yet, here you are.

⌗ word count: 3.4k

♥ pt. 3 ♥ masterlist ♥

You’re starting to think the universe has a personal vendetta against you.

Because despite your very best efforts to keep things professional—to pretend that Eren Yeager is just another intern, just another face in the sea of overachieving college students trying to make it in corporate America, he keeps finding ways to worm himself into your life.

Case in point:

“Alright, teams,” your manager announces at the end of the weekly check-in. “For this next sprint, we’re pairing up for a deep-dive project. Deliverables are due in two weeks, so make sure you’re coordinating closely.”

You’re barely listening, already skimming through your notes, mentally calculating how much work you’ll need to do over the weekend to stay ahead.

And then—

“Pairings are up in the Slack channel,” the manager continues. “Alright, that’s all for today!”

Laptops snap shut. Chairs scrape against the floor as everyone starts packing up. You casually open Slack, expecting to see a random name beside yours.

No. Of course not. Because that would be too easy.

Instead, right there, bolded in neat little text— of course, has your name listed next to the "& Eren Yeager."

You stare at the screen.

You scroll back. Refresh. Check the file name. Maybe this is a mistake. Maybe this is a sick joke. Maybe you opened the wrong document.

But there it is. Again. Your name, tied to his like a cruel punchline.

You flick your gaze across the room.

He’s already looking at you.

Chin propped in his hand, like he’d been watching. Like he knew this was coming. Like he’s been waiting for the moment you realized.

His lips twitch into the smallest, most insufferable smile.

You want to throw your laptop across the room. You want to throw him across the room.

Sasha peers over your shoulder and whistles. “Oh. Good luck with that.”

You groan, shoving your laptop into your bag like it personally betrayed you. “I’m really going to need it.”

She pats your back sympathetically before bouncing off to meet her own partner. Meanwhile, you’re bracing yourself as Eren stands, stretching lazily before slinging his bag over one shoulder.

“Well,” he drawls, stopping in front of your desk. “Guess you’re stuck with me. Again”

You exhale sharply through your nose, pushing your chair back. “Guess so.”

“Try not to look too excited.”

You scowl, standing up. “I’ll try my best.”

He chuckles, unfazed. “When are you free to meet?”

You pull out your phone and skim your schedule. “I have some time tomorrow afternoon. I can book a meeting room at three?”

Eren hums, tilting his head slightly, like he’s thinking. Then—

“Nah. Let’s go somewhere else.”

You blink. “Where else would we have a meeting... if not in a meeting room?”

“The café down the street,” he says. “Better ambiance. Fewer people than in the office.”

You hesitate. You could argue, keep things strictly professional. But the idea of a sweet treat and something warm to drink while working through soul-draining corporate tasks sounds… kind of nice.

“…Fine.” You sigh, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Three o’clock.”

Eren grins. “Looking forward to it.”

You walk off before he can say anything else, but as you leave, you can still feel him watching you.

And for the first time in weeks, you can’t tell if you’re dreading tomorrow— or looking forward to it.

You don’t know why you’re nervous.

It’s just a meeting. A work-related, professional, totally normal meeting.

And yet, as you approach the café, you feel the beginnings of unease settle in your stomach. Maybe it’s because this is the first time you’ll be alone with Eren outside of the office. Maybe it’s because, despite your best efforts, you haven’t been able to shake the lingering awareness of him— of his glances, his smirks, the way he always seems too entertained by your reactions.

Or maybe it’s because some small, irrational part of you is still clinging to the memory of the rejection. The way he’d shut you down without hesitation.

You shake the thought away as you step inside.

The café is warm, the scent of coffee and pastries hanging in the air. You scan the room quickly, spotting Eren near the back, already seated at a small table. He’s dressed more casually today— sleeves rolled up, hair pulled into a loose bun, silver rings glinting on his annoyingly attractive hands as he idly taps his fingers against the table.

You steel yourself and walk over.

“You always pick the back corner?” you ask, setting your bag down before sliding into the seat across from him.

Eren looks up, smirking slightly. “Best view in the room.”

You glance around, skeptical. “Of what? The exit sign?”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Didn’t say I was looking at the décor.”

You blink, caught slightly off guard by his tone— but you don’t press it. Instead, you pull out your laptop, trying to stay focused.

He nods at the gesture, but doesn’t move for his bag. Instead, he leans back, head tilting slightly as he nods toward the counter. “You thinking of getting anything?”

You hesitate, eyeing the pastry case. “Maybe. Still deciding.”

“What do you usually go for?” he presses— but there’s a quiet curiosity beneath it.

You glance at him, a little wary. “Strawberry matcha, usually. And... that Nutella croissant looks good.”

His smirk grows, subtle but unmistakably smug. “Knew it.”

Your brows lift. “You knew?”

He’s already pushing back his chair. “Took a guess when I saw the menu. I’ll get you both. I wanted the Nutella croissant too.”

You blink. “Wait— are you sure?”

Eren nods, already walking toward the counter. “Yeah. I’ll grab my coffee while I’m at it. Easier if I just pay for everything.”

And even though you should be reviewing project notes or pulling up the presentation while he’s at the counter, your brain is annoyingly hyper-aware of him— of the way the barista seems a little too interested in him, of the easy way he leans against the counter as he waits.

You force yourself to look away. Focus.

By the time he returns, sliding your coffee across the table, you’ve managed to pull up a shared document.

“Alright,” you say briskly, “let’s start by breaking down the deliverables.”

Eren hums, taking a sip of his own drink. “So serious.”

You shoot him a look. “That’s kind of the point of this, isn’t it?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Relax. We’ve got time.”

You resist the urge to groan. “Eren.”

“Alright, alright,” he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Let’s get to work.”

And to your surprise, he actually does.

The next few hours pass by smoothly. Eren, despite his usual laid-back demeanor, is sharp, quick to pick up on details, throwing out ideas that you begrudgingly admit are good. The conversation flows easier than expected, and for the first time, you feel yourself settling into something… comfortable.

Then—

“You always this tense?”

You glance up from your screen, brow furrowing. “Excuse me?”

Eren leans forward slightly, studying you with an unreadable expression. “You’re always on edge around me.”

Your grip tightens around your cup. “I am not.”

He tilts his head. “You sure?”

You sigh, looking away. “We’re working. That’s all this is.”

Eren hums, but he doesn’t look convinced. “If you say so.”

The air shifts, something unspoken hanging between you. You don’t like it, you definitely don’t want to acknowledge it, so you do what you do best.

You ignore it.

The next few days pass in a blur.

Despite everything, the two of you fall into a rhythm. The tasks have already been divided. You both know what needs to be done, and Eren’s competent (frustratingly so), and it makes it easier to ignore the tension that simmers beneath the surface.

Mostly.

You’d love to pretend you’re fine, casual even, but it’s hard to ignore the way your skin prickles every time you feel his gaze settle on you.

No matter how hard you try to bury yourself in work, drown in project tasks, or choke down scheduled meetings— nothing is enough to keep you from running into Eren again.

Like today.

You’re crammed into a small meeting room with the rest of your team, laptops open, diagrams pulled up on the screen, conversation moving quickly from one update to the next. You’re halfway through explaining a revision to the prototype data structure when the door creaks open.

And there he is.

He steps in like he owns the place, long frame filling the doorway, hair loose around his shoulders, sleeves pushed up, lanyard half tucked into the pocket of his jeans.

You freeze. Of course, he would come in now.

He doesn’t even speak— just lifts a brow slightly, like you were the one interrupting him.

He looks around the room, slow and unhurried, before setting his laptop down on the table and taking a seat next to you, much to your dismay.

And then— he smiles.

Not big. Not wide. Just enough to say, Yeah, I know you saw me.

You grit your teeth and pretend to refocus on the screen, willing yourself not to notice the way his presence seems to take up more space than it should. You can feel the heat of him beside you, his scent, woodsy and clean, is way too close for comfort.

And you hate it. You’re supposed to be focused on the project, on your career, on your goals. Not him.

You arrive at the office the next morning with a game plan: ignore, deflect, and work. No distractions. No unnecessary interactions. No Eren Yeager.

But as luck would have it, within the first hour, that plan goes to hell.

It starts small— his gaze lingering on you when your team gathers for the daily check-in, the way he seems way too at ease in your proximity. Then comes the subtle, almost imperceptible smirk when you fumble with your professionalism as if he was waiting for you to finally slip up— to react to him.

You don’t. You won’t. Except you do— when you’re forced to spend the entire afternoon stuck in a tiny meeting room with him, reviewing an important deliverable of the project together.

You sit at opposite ends of the table, both typing away on your laptops, silence stretching between you. It should be comfortable—just two interns in the same stage of life, work towards the same goals, spending precious time of their youth working together as comrades— but it isn’t. There’s an unspoken awareness, or in your case, awkwardness, that makes the air feel heavier than it should.

Eventually, you exhale sharply, breaking the silence. “Look, can you just—” You pause, searching for the right words.

Eren finally looks up, one brow slightly raised. “Just what?”

“Stop making this weird.”

His lips twitch, like he’s amused that you think you have control over that. “I’m not making it weird.”

You give him a flat look. “You literally brought up asking me you out. In front of everyone. In front of our boss.”

He shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “You brought it up first.”

Your jaw drops. “I— no, I didn’t!”

“You called it ‘unfortunate probability.’”

“That’s not bringing it up, that’s just—” You inhale sharply, cutting yourself off. You refuse to engage in this ridiculous back-and-forth with him. You are a professional. A serious intern, someone’s here to get a return offer.

Eren, however, is entirely unbothered, watching you with that same lazy amusement. “Relax,” he says. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mutter under your breath, turning back to your screen.

Silence settles again, but this time, it’s charged. You try to focus, but you can feel his gaze flicker to you every now and then, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll talk back, to give a reaction first.

Again, you repeat the same mantra. You don’t. You won’t.

But this time, he speaks first.

“So, why’d you do it?”

You blink. “Do what?”

He tilts his head slightly, long strands of hair beautifully framing his face. “Ask me out.”

Your heart stops. How can someone annoying be so natrually handsome? Then starts again— way too fast for your liking.

You should learn from your mistakes last week’s team lunch and this time actually tell a lie. Say it was a dare. Say anything that will downplay the sheer mortification of that moment. But again, you blurt out the truth before you can stop yourself.

“I don’t know. You just seemed interesting.”

More like infuriatingly hot, but also not a lie. There was something about him that day, something about his quiet confidence, his complete indifference to the high-stakes nature of the last step of being hired— the behavioral interview, like he already knew he had it in the bag. It annoyed you. It intrigued you.

Eren studies you for a beat, like he’s weighing your words. Then, to your utter disbelief, he grins.

“What?” you demand, suspicious.

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head, still smirking. “Just funny, that’s all.”

You narrow your eyes. “Funny how?”

But before he can answer, the door swings open and one of your team members pokes their head in, asking about a deadline.

The moment breaks.

Eren turns back to his laptop, looking perfectly at ease, while you sit there, heart hammering, feeling like you just lost some sort of invisible battle.

You don’t know what game he’s playing. But you have a feeling that Eren is messing with you. There’s no other explanation.

Ever since that meeting room conversation— ever since you stupidly admitted he seemed interesting— he’s been acting different. Not outright obnoxious, but just devious enough to genuinely annoy you.

Like now.

Your team is gathered in a shared workspace, casually going over project updates. You’re hyper-focused on your laptop, taking notes as your team lead speaks, to avoid feeling it— his gaze.

You don’t have to look to know it’s him. You just know.

And it’s distracting.

“So,” Eren’s voice cuts through the discussion, completely unprompted. “You’re a statistics person, right?”

You freeze.

Slowly, you look up. He’s leaning back in his chair, looking far too entertained.

“…Yeah?” you say warily.

Eren nods, like he’s deep in thought. “So, statistically speaking, what do you think the odds are of us running into each other again after this internship?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Jean snorts from across the table. “Damn, Yeager. You applying probability theory to your love life now?”

Sasha perks up immediately. “Wait, why? Are you planning on running into her again?”

Your mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again.

You’re going to kill him.

Eren, unfazed, shrugs. “Just curious.”

You narrow your eyes, trying to decipher his angle. Is he teasing you? Is this payback? Or is he just naturally inclined to be the most insufferable person you’ve ever met?

Probably all three.

“I wouldn’t know,” you say, forcing your voice to stay even. “Maybe I’ll run a regression model on it later.”

Sasha gasps, delighted. “Ooh, academic flirtation. I love it.”

You shoot her a please stop look, but she’s having too much fun at your expense.

Meanwhile, Eren just hums, tilting his head slightly. “Let me know what you find.”

And then, as if he didn’t just drop that bomb, he goes right back to working, leaving you reeling.

After that bullshit of a conversation, you’re two seconds away from flipping the table and walking out. But since professionalism is still a thing, you settle for excusing yourself to grab coffee instead. The office break room is thankfully empty when you step inside. You exhale sharply, pressing your palms against the counter. What is his problem?

The way Eren keeps pushing at you, throwing you off balance— it’s getting unbearable.

Worse, you can’t even tell if he’s doing it on purpose or if this is just who he is. Maybe life is fair after all, being as endowed in the looks and brains department can’t come without sacrifices— his unbearable personality.

Maybe your girlfriends were onto something when they said that men were more handsome before they opened their mouths.

You’re starting to understand the appeal of a silent, brooding type. At least they don’t make you want to throw things every time they speak.

Is this some sort of game for him? To see how much you can take before you snap?

You shake your head, reaching for a coffee pod and shoving it into the machine with more force than necessary.

“Damn. What did the Keurig do to you?”

Your whole body tenses.

Of course. Of course.

You don’t even have to turn around to know who it is.

He reaches for a cup, and for a second, you swear he’s deliberately moving slow, drawing out the moment to stand behind you, towering over your frame.

You can feel his presence, radiating off him like heat, and it makes your skin prickle in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

Fuck, what if he sees a gray hair? You probably have one from all the stress he’s giving you. Maybe more than one. It wouldn’t be surprising— this feels like the kind of situation that would age you by ten years in a single afternoon.

You force yourself to focus, stirring your drink slowly, keeping your gaze fixed on the cup. You don’t want to look up, don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing your reaction. But his voice is there, always there, like it’s in your head, too.

“Don’t you have something better to do?” you ask, your tone a little sharper than you intended, but you refuse to back down.

Eren tilts his head, and you can hear the amusement in his voice. “You trying to get rid of me that quickly?”

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. This is exactly why you’ve been avoiding him. The way he’s so easy, so confident, like he knows he can mess with you and you won’t say a word.

You take a long sip, as if the simple action could cool the rising heat in your chest.

“Well,” you say, voice flat as you put the cup back down with a little too much force. “I’m not in the mood for your… whatever this is.”

For a moment, his expression falters, like you’ve caught him off guard. His eyes flicker, just briefly, and you can tell something shifts in him, like your irritation has actually affected him more than he’d like to admit.

He straightens up, running a hand through his hair, looking at you with something more genuine in his gaze. “Oh—” He pauses, taking a breath, and you can see him trying to recalibrate. “I wasn’t trying to make you mad, just wanted to get your attention. I don’t... want you pissed off at me.”

You exhale slowly, trying to keep yourself composed, but the words are out before you can stop them: “You’ve been doing this for weeks, Eren. It’s not funny anymore. It’s... it’s not a joke when you keep teasing me in front of everyone, in front of our boss. It’s embarrassing.”

His eyes widen, the sincerity in them growing, but you’re not interested in that right now.

“I’m not just here to entertain you,” you continue, your voice shaky now, and you curse yourself internally for letting it slip. “Being here is really important to me, and I’m just trying to get things done. But you keep making me feel like an idiot in front of people. It’s not just you anymore. It’s your whole attitude and... I can’t even—” You cut yourself off, frustrated tears threatening to spill. God, not now.

His face softens, but you’re already stepping back, gripping your drink tighter like it could hold you together. You feel small.

And worse, you’re starting to feel like you’ve just become another punchline in his little game.

Eren steps back, eyes searching yours, but you don’t meet his gaze. You’re not sure what he expects from you now. You don’t even know what you expect now. An apology? A hug?

Instead, all you feel is the knot in your throat tightening. You don’t want to cry here, not in front of him. So, you just force out a small breath and pretend like everything is fine again.

#eren x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x y/n #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager x you #aot x reader

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netherfeildren · 2 years ago

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Evermore

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel’s your older boyfriend who your parents had a hard time approving of, but you’re engaged now and spending your first Thanksgiving with your family, and well, it’s always fun doing things you know you shouldn’t do under the roof of your childhood home.

-OR-

The Thanksgiving AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Thanksgiving AU; Devoted Joel Miller; Established Relationship; Thanksgiving is the most boyfriend holiday and it needs to be discussed; Fucking in your childhood home shenanigans; Pretty soft and sweet; Needy behavior; Older man/Younger woman; Daddy kink; Size Difference; Unprotected PIV; Creampie; Breeding Kink; Oral sex; Fluff and Smut; Praise Kink; Come eating; PWP

A/N: Was thinking yesterday that Thanksgiving is the most boyfriendy holiday, and so this seemed entirely necessary after that epiphany. I’m sick as an old dog right now, and wrote this so quickly and just for fun. Any and all mistakes are property of my NyQuil induced high, apologies and enjoy and happy holidays :]

New Year’s Eve follow up

Word Count: 4.2K

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

“You’re doing so good.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, baby. So, so good. It’s going so well.” You drag your nails slowly up the wide expanse of his strong back, feeling the divots and bumps of his spine, the thick padding of muscles that jump and shiver at your touch. He’d donned the nice green and red plaid button down you’d bought him for tonight, and he’s a little damp at the small of his back, giving away the nerves he’s trying to keep hidden from you, but you can tell anyways, sensed them as if they’d been your own fluttering within you. More attuned to another person than maybe is normal, perhaps, but you know this man, your man, your fiance now. You understand him.

“You think he likes me?” And his voice goes a little gruff, sheepish, words lodging in his throat as he slowly soaps your mother’s special holiday china in the warm sink water. The two of you’d been relegated to clean up duty after you’d finished the beautiful Thanksgiving meal your mother had spent days readying in preparation for your first official visit with Joel as the man you’d soon marry. No longer just the older boyfriend who your father couldn’t stand to hear about, much less bear the sight of. And the come around had been slow going, undoubtedly, tireless work on yours and your mother’s parts trying to get him to relent, to accept the man who you’d chosen to spend the rest of your life with as a good man for his daughter.

“Yes– yes. Absolutely. You made him laugh so many times. And he was so interested when you mentioned the house.”

You feel him suck in a shaky breath and move to wrap your arms around the strong breadth of his waist, resting your cheek against him, listening to the thud, thud of his beating heart. “Christ–” He gives a tremulous laugh that you follow suit warmly, palms splaying out over his belly. “He was, wasn’t he?”

“So interested. Please, don’t worry anymore. My mom loves you, and dad’s on his way there too, I know he is, I promise.”

“He’s just protective,” he says, shutting off the water and pulling the plug on the drain. The both of you stand there in the silence together, listening to the little tornado of water suck away the remnants of the perfect dinner you’d just had with your parents and the man you were going to marry. It really had been perfect, and you’re telling him the truth when you say you really do think your father’s coming around. He’d been apprehensive at first, more than apprehensive, perhaps, with Joel being so much older than you, twenty years to be exact. And with a teenage daughter of his own, Sarah, who was spending the holiday with her mother.

Your mother had always been the easy going one, and she’d taken one look at Joel, the dark, silver threaded curls, the thick shoulders and sparkly, hazel eyes, the too charming smile and had immediately understood. Your father had seen all those same things and seen nothing but trouble immediately deserving of mistrust. Things had been rocky for a time, but when Joel had gotten down on one knee and asked you to spend the rest of your life with him and Sarah, when he’d broken ground on the house he was building you with his bare hands from the dirt up out by the lake, well… your father hadn’t been able to withhold his approval for much longer after that was all said and done.

“And for good reason,” he continues, reaching for the dish towel, drying off his hands before covering yours over his stomach with his wide palms, pulling your arms tighter around him. He brings one of your hands up to his face, cupping his own mouth with it to press a kiss to the tender cove. “The man should take me out back and drag me through the mud,” he mumbles, muffled into your skin, dragging his mouth slowly from side to side, tickling your palm with his whiskers.

You press yourself harder against him, shoving him into the edge of the counter, dizzy with the feel of your heart beating so hard against your sternum it reverberates against the ribs in his back. “No, baby. Why? Never.” You press a kiss right over the slope of his spine.

He gives a soft laugh at the feel of your wriggling against him, trying to find friction anywhere and anyway, not very inconspicuously rubbing your breasts against his back, and he turns slowly in the circle of your arms with that humming laugh still caught in his throat, bending slightly at the knees when he wraps his own arms around your waist to pull you up and into him so that your feet are left to dangle above his own heavy boots. He nuzzles at the warm, fragrant skin beneath the edge of your jaw, a small kiss to the tender spot behind your ear, where he whispers, “‘Cause all I could think about at the goddamn table, sittin’ next to your father, was how pretty your tits look in that dress you wore for me – how much I wish I could kiss that pretty pussy to sleep tonight.”

You whine low, desperate, needy, wrapping your arms behind his neck to press his face tightly to your throat, breath hitching at the feel of his teeth, sharp at your pulse. “Joel–”

He shakes his head slowly, a long stream of sighing breath warm against your collarbone before he says, “I know– I know, baby. I’m telling ya– your father should kill me for the things I wanna do to his little girl. For the things I do to her already.”

The visit had so far been everything you could’ve wished for, and what you’d appreciated more than anything, more than your father’s very approval of your fiance, or your mother’s happiness for you, was that Joel had found the perfect balance between being respectful, ingratiating even, while still remaining uncowed by your father. Walking into your parents home with your hand in his, a deferential kiss to your mother’s cheek, and a strong, self assured handshake for your father while he’d handed him the bottle of his favorite fine aged whiskey and a demure, I’m glad we could make this work for our girl.

Our girl, he’d said, and it had made everything that lived inside of you with his name on it, everything that was perpetually soft and wet for him, go molten. You loved him. You belonged to him. And you’d chosen him for yourself, and he was sure as hell going to make sure everyone the two of you came across knew what that choice entailed, what it meant to him. Your father had been forced into capitulation, all with the whiskey and the self assurance in Joel’s eyes, your own unbridled elation, and your mother’s giggles and blushing smiles like every other woman who’s ever met this man, unable to resist the charm of that Southern twang and the too gorgeous smile, no other recourse had been left to your poor dad.

You think of this as you make your way on silent tiptoes through your parent’s dark, quiet home. It had been the one concession you’d not garnered from your father, the sleeping arrangements. He’d absolutely refused to allow you and Joel to share a bed under his roof, no questions asked. And no matter how much you’d pleaded and your mother had cooed and cawed and threatened him, he’d not relented. At this point, you were worried he’d not let you sleep in the same bed as Joel even after the two of you’d been married. But what your father didn’t understand, what even you yourself barely understood sometimes was that you needed Joel. You need him. No one, no one except for Joel himself understood how desperately that ran inside of you. He understood you, he always has.

You pause as you reach the closed door of his bedroom, splaying a palm against the fine grained wood to take a settling breath, your heart beating so fast you feel it in your throat, chock full of excitement, lust, desperate yearning. To have him here, in your childhood home, where you’d been a teenager, a girl, grown into a woman, you want him so, so badly, inside of you, around you, beneath you. You can never sleep without him anymore, no comfort to be found in the too small bed of your childhood – you turn the knob and slip inside.

The blue darkness of the guest bedroom paints his form in shadows, big under the pretty quilt your mother has adorning the bed. You can see the heavy mass of his shoulder peeking from beneath the edge of the quilt, the ratty gray t-shirt you know has a faded longhorn stretched across the front; not able to sleep naked and wrapped only in you the way he usually does when under your parents roof. You turn the lock and step carefully on tipped toes, avoiding the creaky bits in the hardwood floor you’re so familiar with after a lifetime living in this house and lift the edge of the quilt to slip into the cocoon of warmth with him. Like a living furnace, you snake your arm over his flank slowly, enjoying the shiver and jerk of his muscles as you stroke him awake. Your palm, passing over thick ridged muscles and soft belly, digging beneath to feel the wispy scratch of hair there.

He makes a deep sound, low in his chest, legs shifting as he comes to wakefulness, and then the gruff murmur of your name being whispered into the dark, his big, callused palm coming to wrap entirely around your fist beneath his t-shirt, keeping you from slipping it inside his sleep pants. “Baby, what’re you doin’?” He slurs, voice full of sleep and slow waking lust.

You press your pelvis into his backside, hitching your knee up and over his hip to wrap yourself around him like vines. “I need you,” you mewl, baby voice trying to get ahead of his polite refusal before he’s able to get it out. He’d told you, before the two of you’d embarked on this weekend at your parents house, that there was to be no funny business on your part. As if he didn’t know that that was your favorite kind of business where he was concerned. You press a kiss above his scapula, then open your jaw to drag your teeth against the skin warmed cotton. You rub against him, clutching and pulling at his chest and stomach, biting and kissing as much of his back as you can reach, your foot somehow finding its way into his lap so that you can feel his quickly hardening cock against the sensitive arch of your foot.

He groans roughly. “You’re gonna get us caught, sweet girl,” he tries to protest, but wraps his hand around the little foot in his lap anyways, pressing the arch of it into that half hard erection, rubbing against it.

“I need you– I can’t sleep without you,” you whine, and he makes a frustrated sound, turning to face you, gripping your knee as he goes to open the cradle of your hips for himself, drawing your leg over his waist so that you’re suddenly chest to chest, sipping on each other’s warm breath. With a fist in your hair he gives you a hardly believable reprimand, little girl, and presses his lips briefly to yours, quick and damp, barely there, like he can’t help himself, like he knows that if he starts he won’t be able to stop, wandering hands already slipping up the hem of your nightgown, squeezing your panty clad ass.

“Your parents…” he tries again, the roll of his hips against yours, coupled with a hitched whine, making his objections a little laughable.

“Don’t you miss me? Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me here with you?”

“Of course– of course I do–” You twist your fingers in his curls, the first real press of your mouths, his damp upper lip slotting between both of yours so that you can give it a little suck. Then the tip of his tongue touching yours, and you’re opening all the way for him, moaning wantonly into his mouth, letting him lick and taste behind the line of your teeth. “‘Course I want you here, baby.”

“I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet,” you promise. “Please, please, Joel. Please, just–” The hand squeezing your ass slides between your legs, finds the damp plaquet of panties. Fuckin’ soaked already, needy girl. “Please, just fuck me. I’ll be so quiet, I promise.”

“Baby…”

Please, please, please. He’s always had something about him that turns you into nothing more than a wet little girl desperate for the big, big man’s attention. The impropriety of your surroundings has no bearing on this, the desperation is as present as ever, heightened even, maybe, because of the wrongness of it, because you could be caught red handed at any second if you’re not careful, not quiet enough.

“‘Course I love you so fuckin’ much. You even need to ask?” He rubs the flat of his palm over your pussy, the tip of his middle finger finding the nub of your clit covered by the soaked wet silk to press lightly on each pass forward.

“No, Daddy. I know,” you breathe soft and secret into his mouth, watch the slight widening of his eyes as you say it. You can picture the flush suffusing his cheeks at hearing you call him so, know the effect the sound of it has on him.

“Fucking Christ,” he murmurs, pulling you tighter against him, tilting your head back by the grip he has on your hair so that he can deepen his kiss, taste you more thoroughly. “Better be quiet while I fuck you.” He pulls back, mock frown and a note of reprimand in his voice as his fingers dip beneath the silk of your panties to find the wet, swollen mess of you already. He moans into your open mouth, your name and I love you and wet fuckin’ pussy as he starts to pet at you slowly. His fingers swirling at your clit and then moving to your opening, dipping inside just a tiny bit, giving you almost nothing, forcing a frustrated whine up your throat. “I said quiet.”

“Please, Daddy. Please,” you beg, but he returns to your clit, ignoring your whining, pinching the bundle of nerves lightly before he’s back to teasing the mouth of your cunt, dipping the tip of a single finger in shallowly to pull your wetness from you and spread it over your mound, slicking you up for him.

“We’re gonna go nice and slow. Gonna take my pretty cunt nice and slow, and you’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you? Gonna be quiet – not get us caught, right? Say yes.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, pressing kisses all along his face and jaw and throat, needy fingers twisting in his curls, scratching at the back of his neck and the hills of his shoulders. He make an approving groan of a sound, rolling the two of you over so that you’re on your back, splayed out beneath him, and he pulls the vee of your nightgown down, bearing your breasts to him, sucking on each nipple, first hard then soft, then with teeth and tongue, slicking you in his spit, and you try and stay quiet, you really, really do, but it’s so hard not to cry out at the sight of his jaw hinging wide, seemingly trying to take the whole heavy weight of your breast into his mouth in one go.

He always has you like he wants you more than anything else in the whole world, like he’s never wanted anything else in his whole life more than he wants you, and nothing feels better than that, nothing makes you crazier for him than the way he wants you so desperately.

He makes his way down the length of you with kisses to your breasts, your ribs, your belly, the mound of your pelvic bone, before he’s gathering your knees together and bending them to press against your chest, pulling the lace and silk of your panties over the curve of your bottom and diving nose first into your wet cunt, taking in a deep drag of your scent and then dragging the broad, flat of his tongue from your asshole to your clit in one long, slow swipe. The groan he ends on has you almost coming on his tongue just like that, the sound so hungry it would scare someone who doesn’t want to be wanted as badly by this man as you do. And he eats your cunt like he’s angry, like he’s in love with you, like he doesn’t care if you get caught or not. Tongue plunging into your pussy, sucking on your clit, shaking his head, quick and hard, from side to side so that the obscene sound of your wetness against his mouth is all you can hear over the cacophony sounding in your ears right before you gush for him all wet and sweet and sticky, covering his tongue and beard. His lips wrap around your swollen clit again while it still pulses for him, and you have to shove your fist into your mouth, drooling around it to stifle the sound of your cries for his cock while he sucks you into a second painfully fluttery orgasm, your womb cramping hard and tight around nothing, your cunt clutching desperately at air for the cock it’s about to gladly take. The hum of his movements, of his whines and moans, don’t match his promise for nice and slow. They tell you this is going to be hard and deep and might even hurt, and that you’ll like it all the more for that. This is, after all, what you’d snuck in here for, just exactly this.

He pulls away from your cunt with a loud, wet suck, popping your clit from his puckered mouth like a piece of too ripe, too sweet fruit, before crawling up the length of you, pulling your soaked panties and your nightgown from your body as he goes, shucking his own sweat soaked shirt over his head and kicking his pajama bottoms away. When he takes your mouth again, his face and beard are wet and sticky with your slick, all sweet sugared musk and the angry thrust of his tongue, his fingers, too hard and too tight wrapping around your jaw, grunting into your mouth as he sucks on your tongue. His burning hot cock thrusts between your wet cleft, the sound of your leaking pussy loud enough to be heard over the sound of your mingled panting breaths. You feel him grip himself, stroking once, twice, wide, blunt head bumping against slick soaked skin, before he’s notching at your cunt and shoving in, hard and fast. Not giving you a chance to think about it before he’s bumping at the mouth of your womb, a muted bruise you never tire of; his too big cock that still pinches every time, that presses in just on this side of too deep to always be comfortable, but you don’t care. The proof is in the hurt, and you need constant reminding that he’s real, that this is real. It’s your greatest pleasure, after all, the reassurance of him, of the two of you, and he never tires of giving it to you. You know that giving you the things you need and want from him, turns Joel on more than anything else.

He groans long and low into the crook of your shoulder when he bottoms out and holds there for several drawn out moments, both of you enjoying the pulse and throb of your connection. He’s so deep and you’re so wet for him, taking him so, so well, like he always tells you that you do. You’d felt, from the first moment that you’d laid eyes on him, like you’d been made for him. Put on this earth just for him to find and keep, and doing this, having each other like this, even after all the times you’ve done it, always feels like further proof of it. He grinds against you, hips shifting from side to side, tip bumping against the deepest part of you, before he’s clutching at your ass and flipping the both of you over suddenly, cock never slipping from your tight clutch when he settles you on top of him, buried to the hilt. You feel him in your stomach like this, and you tell him so, little hand coming to rest low on your belly where you’re holding him inside of you, pressing down so that the both of you can feel your connection from the inside out, groaning in tandem all wide and sparkly eyed as you look at each other. And he’s nodding his head at you as you start to shift your hips slowly, feeling the wet slide of his length, the grind of your clit against his pelvis, one hand pressing down on your belly, the other anchoring yourself on his own stomach so that you can rock yourself on him.

He pulls one of your knees up, resting your foot flat on the bed to open you to his gaze, so that he can watch the way the thick root of his cock splits your cunt open for him to fuck up into. The two of you find your rhythm, you rolling your hips down on his upthrust, and he’s still nodding his head at you, mouthing words made of only air at you while you gasp and gulp for breath, I love you and you’re so pretty and yeah, ride that cock, baby. All you can do in return is mumble his name at him over and over again, Joel, Joel, Joel, nonsensical. Your brain doesn't work when he’s got his cock wedged this deep inside of you, it just doesn’t.

There's sweat pooling in the divots of his collarbones, the sun grizzled notch of his throat, and you fold over forward, changing the angle, deepening it, to lick up those little pools of salt, sucking on his neck until he’ll surely have incriminating bruises tomorrow. You don’t care, not even a little bit. He’s so yours in this moment, always really, but right now, Joel feels so, so incredibly yours, and you love him so much, and he’s going to be your husband one day soon and nothing else really matters besides that.

He wraps both arms around your back, squeezes you to himself tight and starts to fuck up into you, fast, brutal, again, nothing nice and slow about it like he’d promised, and you’re forced to dig your teeth into his shoulder so hard you’re scared for a moment you’ll taste blood on your tongue. You can feel your orgasm crawling up your spine, pooling like liquid heat in your pelvis while everything goes tight and fluttery inside of you. “How mad would he be if I knocked you up right now? If I fucked his baby girl full’a my baby under his roof?” He grunts into your ear, and there’s the dip in your restraint. As much as you want to hold off and wait for him, you clench down hard around him with a sharp cry, mouthful of his skin to muffle you only barely. “Huh? What’dya think he’d say?” He continues, changing the angle so that his pelvis bumps against your clit on every punch in, balls slapping wetly against the curve of your ass while he pets at the tight ring of muscle back there, tempting you with more than you think you can take right now. “If you go all pretty and round and soft for me before our wedding.”

You can't speak, you’re nothing but air and sticky, sweet wet in the shape of a girl made just for him. Too tight grip in your hair, and he’s jerking your face towards him, grunting into your mouth as he starts to spill inside of you, burning hot come milked out of his cock and deep into you, and he tells you again how much he loves you, tells you that you’re his pretty little wife because it’s already felt like that for so long. A marrying of your very selves despite the lack of legal nothing that means so little to the both of you when you have all this between you already. Tells you that he can’t wait to see his baby all full of his baby.

When he’s finished pumping you filled to the brim he turns you over again, pulls out slowly so that the both of you can appreciate the sound of his heavy cock slipping wetly from your well used pussy, and when he bends to eat your mingled come out of your puffy cunt, only to then wedge your mouth open so that he can spit your fluids onto your waiting tongue, all here, taste how good we are, the only words left when it comes to this man and this thing you have between the two of you is always simply thank you.

New Year’s Eve follow up

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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#vic fic #Joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/ you #joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller fic #the last of us au #Joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal characters

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youthereader · 2 months ago

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Echoes in the Dark part 2.

PAIRING: joel miller (the last of us) x fem!reader

SUMMARY: 2.3k words. Every morning you wake up and remember two things. Firstly, that your son is dead, and secondly, that Joel Miller is your patient. || A fix-it fic. Reader is Joel’s carer as he recovers from Abby’s attempt on his life.

RATING: eventually E (no smut in this part). age gap (reader is in their 30s, Joel is in his 60s). heavy angst, grief and loss of a child, graphic violence.

A/N: Thank you for your enthusiasm so far! Things are starting to heat up a little bit...

PART 1.

Maria shows up during breakfast the next day, hands deep in her pockets with a bright smile on her face despite the early hour. You return it, wondering what’s happened to warrant this.

“Sorry to interrupt your breakfast,” she says, stepping inside. She hastily wipes her boots on the doormat. “I had a question to ask you.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, letting her pass you. “What’s up?”

“How’s Joel been?”

“Uh, fine -” you point behind her. “You want a coffee?”

“Sure.”

She follows you into the kitchen and parks herself by the counter, and you grab a second mug for Maria from the cupboard. You pour hers and do the same in your own dirty mug. She declines sugar or milk.

“What did you wanna ask?” you murmur, holding your mug with both hands.

Maria smirks. “I already did.”

You blink at her, confused.

“I asked how Joel was going.”

“Oh, right,” you shut your eyes and give your best attempt at a laugh, relief coursing through you.

A million worse scenarios than this already churning in your mind’s eye, you didn’t expect this to be such an easy visit. You lapse into silence and Maria puts off drinking her coffee, taking a glance away from you, words hesitant.

“It’s just that he can be…”

“An asshole?” you prompt, and she grimaces.

“I was gonna say ‘a challenge’, but that works, too,” she admits, finally taking a gulp of coffee.

You hold up a hand. “Ellie’s word, not mine.”

Though you totally would describe him that way. You know that in other circumstances, you wouldn’t stand Joel for two seconds, but because he’s yours to look after, you’re trying to be diplomatic.

Ellie chewed him out yesterday when she came by, and you made yourself scarce, telling Joel you’d be back in an hour. You wanted them to have their privacy, since they had so little of it when they were in the hospital. You reminded him gently that he’d need a nap later, too. He grumbled under his breath, prompting Ellie to comment:

“You don’t have to be such an asshole all the time.”

You were already on your way out of his room, within earshot when she added:

“She’s really nice.”

Meaning what, exactly? That Joel’s treatment of you wasn’t fair, because you were just doing your job, or because Ellie could sense some semblance of ‘good’ in you? If it was the latter, you’d been convincing enough for a nineteen year-old to believe this version of yourself you presented. That was better than the alternative.

No-one knew that part of you, the one that Maria almost found out about when you first got to Jackson.

You drain your mug. “Joel’s got a check-up this afternoon.”

“Tommy told me,” Maria says with a nod. “What do you think?”

You shrug. “I think… I’m not a doctor.”

Maria waits, and you know she wants you on her side. It was one of the reasons she assigned you to her brother-in-law. It wasn’t because you’re a homebody with nothing else better to do, though sometimes at night that’s all you can tell yourself. You life feels so empty at times that you wonder how on earth you’ve made it this far. And then you force yourself to get up and read a book, because there’s no way you’re going to start remembering things, or start the ‘what-ifs’ again.

“Let me know if you need any help,” she says, and you nod. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Not a problem,” you reply.

Maria lets herself out, and you empty her mug in the sink, watching the liquid disappear down the drain. You wait another ten minutes before you dress for the day and go over to Joel’s.

On the walk there, you vow to align yourself with Joel. Granted, you don’t know the full story about Abby, but he barely got out of there alive. He cares about Ellie a lot, and he’s a part of the community, far more valuable than you’ve ever been.

The check-up doesn’t go as planned. The doctor gawks at you when you mention crutches, then refuses them. Joel is confined to his wheelchair or bed for the next week, depending on how he’s healing from now on.

“He’s only been conscious for five minutes and you’re already wanting him on crutches? That’s negligence,” the doctor hisses, and Joel frowns at him.

“Hey, she-”

“No, he’s right,” you cut in. Your arms are crossed where you sit beside him, your cheeks heating. “I’m sorry.”

You can’t have Joel admitting to nearly falling ass over tits. He’d be thrown back into the hospital, or taken to live with Tommy, and you don’t want him driven crazy. You care too much, and you know that, but it doesn’t make you any less right. You can’t have him being too honest right now.

The doctor dismisses you with a short wave. “It’s fine. You’ll get there eventually. But we’re being cautious.”

He and Joel talk about pain levels, diet… you begin to zone out, then come back when his sleeping situation is questioned.

“I’m fine alone,” he snaps. “Or this version of it.”

He regards you and you frown back at him, annoyed. You just stuck out your neck for him.

When you’re walking back to his place, you try to push the wheelchair as fast as possible. Joel hates this, and you both know it, the silence tense between you. Getting inside his place is time-consuming. You help him up the steps, then get him to sit on his couch, then take the wheelchair inside backwards, then slam the front door shut.

“Easy,” he calls.

“Sorry,” you mutter. You find him again, pulling off your gloves. “You want something to eat?”

He shakes his head, rubs his face. “You can go, I’m beat.”

“I’d rather not,” you say, and he glares at you.

His grumpy mug isn’t that scary when you know he can’t stand unassisted. In any other case…

Your mind drifts, considering the power in those limbs he once had, the way he pulled through all this because he was tough. You look at his hands, how much larger they are than yours. Fuck, they’re huge.

“Okay,” he mutters. “I’ll lie down for a bit.”

Returning to his bed, you help take off his boots, his jacket. Your head comes close to his and you smell his skin. It’s vaguely sweet, yet musky. You place a hand on his chest and he lowers himself gingerly, his eyes heavy.

“Do you want me to stick around?” you whisper, and he shakes his head.

“You got someplace to be?” he says. “Am I keeping you from someone?”

You shake your head, swallowing. You have to look away from his face, fussing with his blanket unnecessarily.

“I’m a widow.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that,” he says. “Any kids?”

You shake your head, biting your lip. “Nah.”

He was going to ask that eventually, since you hadn’t offered up much of yourself. You step away from the bed, fixing the curtains. In the dark, you see the shape of him under the blankets. You sense he’s already drifting off by how his breathing turns steady. You leave his door ajar and walk back to the couch, feeling the warmth of his body from before still lingering.

You close your eyes, and against your will, fall asleep, too.

You wake with a start, neck sore.

“What the fuck.”

You scrub at your eyes and wonder what woke you, then hear a groan in the distance. You jump up, almost tripping over your own feet as you sprint off. You find Joel on the floor, his pillow beside him. He’s lying on his good side, thank fuck.

“It’s okay…”

You try to scoop him up, snarling:

“Would you just let me fucking help you?”

He weighs a ton and you groan with him, helping him perch back on the edge of his bed, panting from the effort. You stay on the floor, your hair half in your face. You’re so angry.

“What were you even doing?”

“I fell, alright?” he yells. He pants like you, sweaty like you know you are. “I had a… bad dream and-”

You deflate a little, huffing. “What?”

A silence settles over you and then he sighs, passing a hand over his face. You stay on the floor, thinking that if you move he won’t ever speak again. You wish not for the first time that there was more you could do. You relent.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, and he doesn’t look at you, only nods. “Maybe we need to get a rail for your bed, to stop that from happening again.”

“What? No!” he snaps, and you shrink away instinctively at the volume of his voice. “I’m not a toddler-”

You scramble to your feet, turning away, a flurry of memories invading your vision. A hand in yours, a cupid’s bow on a round little face, the smell of the softest hair imaginable, a smile so like your own beaming back at you-

“No,” you whisper aloud, the emotion smacking you on the nose, your eyes blurring with tears.

You feel like you could sink into the floor and disappear from how heavy your heart becomes. All the while, Joel says your name three separate times, alarmed.

“I’m fine,” you gasp, though it’s so obvious you’re not.

You leave him there, running out of the house, falling to your knees on the front porch. The icy air hits your lungs and you take deep breaths, squeezing your eyes shut. You force the tears down. This is ludicrous. All Joel had to say was the word ‘toddler’ and you fall apart? Maybe it’s happening because you just woke up, and you’re still recovering from your panic from earlier…

“Stop,” you hiss, because you can’t sink any further. You won’t manage the night alone in your bed if you do. You won’t sleep for days.

Joel calls your name again and you take more steadying breaths, standing up straight, looking around. Thank fuck nobody is witness to this. You can’t handle any comforting touches or words.

“I’m fine, Joel,” you call back. “Just getting some fresh air.”

The weak sunlight breaks through the clouds and you wait another minute before you head back inside. Joel is in his chair, about to wheel himself into the hallway by the time you reach his bedroom doorway.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and he shakes his head.

“Don’t be.”

“Maria came by my place this morning,” you say, determined to change the subject.

Joel’s hands pause. “What did she want?”

“I think she wanted me to divulge too much,” you say. You feel safer being honest, after he just saw you start to freak out. “I didn’t tell her about you nearly falling-”

“I know,” he says. “I trust you.”

You back at him. It could be such a throwaway line but you can’t ignore how something squeezes in your chest.

“I’m not gonna tell her about this, either,” you add, moving on. “Though I probably should.”

He glances away, considering this. You don’t mind that he’s taking longer to process this. At least he’s not arguing with you.

“I’m sick of this pyjamas, I want to change into decent clothes,” he says.

“You wanna go somewhere?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yeah. Maybe see Ellie.”

You nod back at him. “Okay.”

You open his drawers and he goes through them, handing you a charcoal t-shirt, a flannel shirt and some worn jeans. His socks are on the top of the pile on his bed.

You wait as he begins to unbutton his pyjama shirt, a set you guess was once black but has faded over time. You point to the jeans.

“I dunno about those with your leg. What about sweatpants?”

He nods and you see his bare chest for the first time, warmth flooding you all over. You feel exposed, your mouth dry as you take in his golden skin, the hair on his chest and stomach that disappears under his waistband. You know his stomach would be soft, and somehow simultaneously hard.

“Lemme.”

You lean toward him, his arms stretching up. He’s quiet again.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you add. “You can’t do this alone.”

He gives a breath of a laugh, and you move closer still. You can feel the heat of his skin. You push back the material off his shoulder, his mouth by your ear.

“It’s not that. I just have an old man’s body, nobody needs to see it.”

You scoff. He’s so beautiful. You wish he believed that his body was still capable, still great to look at. Not that that was part of your job description.

“That’s dumb,” you retort, pulling the shirt away completely. You toss it aside, picking up his clean shirt. “Arms.”

He obliges, a little smirk forming. A miracle - you’re maybe making Joel smile? You pull the shirt over his head, his face popping up again.

“There he is,” you murmur, and he actually laughs at that. You feel lighter, smiling down at him.

The pants prove difficult, especially when you’re tugging his pyjama bottoms off, revealing his thick thighs. You try not to be afraid of his bandaged one, putting one leg of his sweatpants over his ankle and then the other.

“Stand up. You’re okay.”

He groans a little, leaning onto you, gripping your shoulder over your jacket like a lifeline, as you slowly pull up the pants all the way up to his hips.

“You got it?” he says, and you nod.

“Just gotta get your old butt into this,” you mutter, pulling it all up, and he laughs again.

Lightning striking twice. You smile back at him, the moment passing. His arm is still around you. Your hand reaches up to pat his stomach, over his shirt, just once.

“Sit down.”

You take him to see Ellie, who promises to bring him back in one piece. You nod, and then Joel nods back at you, a small smile there.

You touch yourself that night. You welcome the feeling of something other than loneliness. You want him, more than you thought possible. You replay your day with him over and over. You remember his skin, and the smell of his musk and come hard, seeing stars.

😈😈😈 I can happily reveal this is not a slow burn. I am having so much fun with this, thank you for reading. 😘

PART 3.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #joel miller x you #echoes in the dark #pedro pascal fanfiction #fem reader

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yaut-jaknowit · 6 months ago

Note

T’a’yta says he has to hold himself back, I gotta hold myself back mc has way more self control then me. I would've taken him to the bedroom the second he said I didn't have to break a sweat. He wined and dined so much the first date that no other dates are required we're officially married the second he gets me against the closet door. All this to say I hope there's a part 2 and that you never have trouble sleeping dear writer.

Strangers Part 2

Character: T'a'yta (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3538

Summary: You meet up with Ze'se to recap everything you've been through with T'a'yta. And boy, is she happy to hear how good the date went. She forces you to text him that moment to go on a second one. T'a'yta agrees. Now, for a second date!

Author Note: I completely agree with you. If any Yautja like him did that do me, I'd propose to him that moment. Thank you so much for the love!

Part 1 | Part 3

Masterlist

Ao3

After your first date with the handsome and endearing T’a’yta, it was love at first sight. He had your heart already. No, ifs, ands, or buts about it. T’a’yta had stolen it right out of your chest and posted it on top of a throne. Truly. The Yautja treated you like royalty. You felt it. The first date sealed it in with him.

Of course, as any normal human, you were nervous to go head first. All of your past relationships have clearly failed. Here you were. With what you seemed to be the perfect gentlemen. T’a’yta even told you to take your time. He’ll wait. The way he said it to wasn’t even creepy or disturbing. He’s letting you take control. To take control of such a beast of a man. You internally swooned at the thought. Your cheeks flushed hot with heat.

That was two days ago. Your friend who set him up with you wanted to know all about it. She had called you the morning afterwards, begging for you to meet up with her. Ze’se is an amazing friend. So, despite work draining you during the day, you agreed to a dinner meet up with her. Which Ze’se happily agreed to said place and threatened harm if you didn’t show. That… you didn’t know if she was joking or not.

With the threat of harm hanging over your head, you threw on some comfy clothes. This was a causal outing. No reason to be all dolled up to see your friend.

Being the person Ze’se is, she invited you to a nice, sit down restaurant with good food. You didn’t need to show up in a dress or anything of the sort. That didn’t mean you could show up like a slob. Just down the middle. Perfect. Just how you like it. Like always, Ze’se will pay as well. Never has she ever let you pay. Not even when you try to sneak or be quick. Nothing escapes her watchful eyes.

The building is welcoming when you walk in. It’s not a large food joint but the place is packed with the lobby full of waiting customers. You stroll up to the host stand and greet a man standing there. Poor thing looks a bit overwhelmed and tired.

“Hi. I’m with the Ze’se reservation,” you told him with a gentle, easy going smile. His dark blue eyes dart down to the screen in front of him. He scrolls through a list before his eyes lit up. The host steps out from behind the stand and motions to follow him.

“Follow me.” You comply and shadowed behind him. Further into the restaurant, you see just how full it was. Completely understandable why he has that look in his eyes.

Your eyes look through the crowd and find the only Yautja here. Her towering form sitting on a chair designed for someone of her size. A few people are giving her looks but she’s not caring one bit. Humans are still getting a feel about having Yautjas around normally. People still aren’t fully used to alien walking among them. You’re not one of those.

Ze’se bright gaze lit up when she spot you through the crowd. The host finishes up the guide and departs with a forced smile. You take your seat across form hers. She is immediately scanning over your neck with observant eyes. You knew what she was looking for, know she would find nothing. To her disappointment.

That sharp gaze of hers narrowed when she came up empty handed. “Did he not impress you?” Ze’se asked with her voice filled with suspicion. You rolled your eyes with a small smirk then looked down at the menu.

“Oh my god, Ze,” you groaned. Yautjas. They are so fast about life. That’s one thing you find ironic about the different lifestyles. They act like they have no time in the universe. Yet, their life expectancy is over a thousand years old. While humans are the opposite. Acting like we’ll live forever and taking all the time in the world with doing stuff. There are outliers in each species. But, that’s one thing you’ve come to notice around Yautjas.

“Just because we didn’t fuck doesn’t mean I don’t like him!” Thankfully, no one was paying attention to the two of you. That would’ve gained some nasty glances. Specially from the parents nearby.

The suspicion in her gaze doesn’t go away. You sighed and bowed your head. “I would think he’d at least give you a temporary mark. You do have his scent on you though.” Ze’se seemed pleased about that though. Yautjas and their scenting. You sneaky sniffed the air but didn’t catch anything different.

Content with her findings, Ze’se changes her expression to a softer look. You forced down the heat in your cheeks to disappear before meeting her bright eyes again.

“But, to let you know, everything went well. He took me out for a dinner date. A wonderful date.” You flicker your gaze down at the menu while talking. “Just like you, he paid for everything and didn’t even give me a chance.” T’a’yta kind of reminds you of Ze’se. Was it customary for Yautjas to pay? Because it wasn’t gendered, clearly.

A server popped up and greeted the two of you. “Welcome in guys! My name is Sarah. Today we have a special going on for our soups.” Waters were placed down with a carbonated drink in front of Ze’se. “Are we ready to order? Or do we need some more time?”

Since the two of you have been here far too many times to count, you already knew what you want. You looked up at the server. “We’re ready, thank you. Could I get the long ham sandwich with a fries on the side? And a Pepsi to drink?” Ever since you tried that sandwich, you fell in love with it. Whoever is back there, working their magic knew what they were doing. It was delicious.

On the other side, Ze’se made her order. The server wrote all of it done before scampering off to other tables. Busy day.

One thing the two of you loved about this pace was it cater to Yautjas as well. One of their cook’s was a Yautja himself. Authentic Yautja Prime food. The first time you tried a dish… regret. Ze’se must have known how spicy it was. You were dying.

Once the server left, the two of you fell back into the conversation.

“We went to my favorite restraint in the city. T’a’yta had surprised me by renting out the whole place!” Truly, you couldn’t believe he had done that for you. “It was just the two of us.” Then, a certain memory popped up. You tapped your hand on the table.

“Oh my god! When I tried to order a simple salad because I didn’t want to spend a fortune on a meal, he bought every appetizer on the menu!” From there, you finished up the story. You recapped it to her. All the way to when he took you home and pinned you to the closet door. Ze’se had a grin on her face. “I said I would love to go on another date with him.”

The sparkles in her eyes were scary.

“When’s the next date?” she immediately asked afterwards. By now, the food had arrived in the middle of your recap. Busy or not, they knew how to get their food out quickly.

You shook your head. “Not yet…” Ze’se face darkened amidst her eating. “I-I was going to talk to you about it.” Then, you ducked your head down to hide away from her piercing gaze. “Plus, work has been busy!” And it had. You’ve been going to work and coming home just to sleep. Rinse and repeat. You were lucky to get time to have that date with T’a’yta.

Ze’se growled your name and put down her form gently. “Do not let a good thing such as this slip away. “ The tone of her voice was evident with seriousness. She truly didn’t want you to lose this opportunity. You sighed again but nodded timidly.

“Pull out your phone and text him now.” You jerked your head back before following her demands. The food was temporarily forgotten about. As you typed away at the screen, you would glance at her staring you down. Each time she caught you, your gaze snapped back down to the phone.

Sent. You flipped the device around so she could read it. The message pleased her. All you wrote about how you had a goodtime and enjoyed his company and kindness. You also would like to go on a second date. Not that you believed it was fully needed since he’s given you all the green flags in the world. But you wanted to take it slow and easy. You had to remember, he’s alien with different cultures and views.

By the time you two finished up your meal, it had become dark outside. You stepped out onto the sidewalk first with Ze’se following afterwards. Anyone nearby cleared a large bubble around the two of you.

Strong arms wrapped around your torso and brought you close to her warm body. You returned the gesture in full before pulling back. “I’ll let you know about he says, okay?” you promised Ze’se. Not only does she care you and your love life. Ze’se wants to make sure you are safe as well.

She pointed a stern finger at you. “You better. I know where you live.” Anyone else would’ve ran for their lives at that threat. Not you. Instead, you laughed and nodded your head.

“I promise.” Then, the two of you spilt ways. You returned home, back to your apartment.

Walking through the front door gave you a reminder of that evening with T’a’yta. You had almost let him in. Almost.

As you go to se down your stuff on the kitchen counter, your phone buzzed. Instantly, your head started to race.

It was a message from T’a’yta.

And he wanted to on that second date.

Both of your arms were thrusted into the air with a loud cheer. You danced around the living room before responding back to him. You already had a place in mind on the weekend. Which now couldn’t come any sooner. Only three days away and you wanted it right now. You wish you didn’t have to work, let alone in the morning.

With the knowledge of having plans for Saturday, the work week decided to drag on at a snails pace. Plus, everything that could go wrong, went wrong. All of the work to fix it fell onto your lap. To the point they tried to make you stay for overtime. You put your foot down and gone to your midday date with T’a’yta.

A smalls hop was set up inside the mall. Not many notice it. Unless work of mouth got around. That’s how most people know about it. A pottery shop you’ve been dying to go to. Work either has you too busy or no one wants to go. They have a cute little dragon you were excited to paint on. You had the idea to painting it like T’a’yta.

Up front, stood T’a’yta in all of his glory. It was good to finally see him again. It felt too long to go without seeing him after the first time. T’a’yta had made such an impression to you.

A bright smile plastered onto your face when you first saw his brown scales. He was easy to spot with what little people occupied the shop. You quickened your steps towards him, adding a pep with each step.

T’a’yta instantly noticed the moment you turned the corner. A watchful eye was kept on you until you reached the shop. His lumbering form turned towards you. You peered up at him with a warm smile.

“I’m so glad you could make it, T’a’yta. I hope this didn’t throw a wrench in any plans.” You didn’t know what his schedule was like. If he had any plans outside of this. He wasn’t from here and probably had people he wanted to see. Or even a hunt or something on those lines.

His massive head shook side to side. T’a’yta slowly reached out and brushed his knuckles against your cheek. He most likely felt the heat that boiled your skin alive at this point. “No, no. I had nothing going on,” he reassured before the two of you walked up to the front counter. A young man waited for the two of you.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you decided to start up a casual conversation with him. The man was quick to answer any of your question about this whole process.

It wasn’t long until the two of you are at a table. In front of you was the adorable little dragon you craved to get. T’a’yta got a miniature house. The two of you picked out your colors and put them on a palette. Ready for use. You were beaming at T’a’yta with sparkles in your eyes. Finally, you were here. Not alone. A future romantic partner. The idea excited you.

“What had you been doing between our last date and this one?” you asked and picked up a paint brush, adding color to the tip. T’a’yta seemed a little out of his element with the arts and crafts. But, he followed your lead.

“I’ve been mainly ready to pass the time,” he answered and dipped a brush into some green paint.

Reading?! A man who liked to read? Could he get any better? You were thankful that Ze’se had introduced you to T’a’yta.

The paint brush in your hand lowered a little to focus on him. “Oh? What do you like to read?” The two of you might have different genres but still. To find a guy who enjoys reading is unheard of. Imagine if the two of you combined your libraries together! Fuck, you’re already thinking about the future.

He starts to paint the side of the house with a green. “I have a vast variety for my own library.” There were plenty of stars in your eyes just at that. “Currently, I’m reading…” he says something that your human brain couldn’t understand. That sounded alien. That only made you realize how much you didn’t know about his culture. Only to want to know more about it, about him. “Are you a book worm?” If only he knew.

“A lot. When you come by again, I’ll show you the library in my apartment,” you offered to him. Your paint brushed created brown base along the dragon as the starter. The brown nearly a match to T’a’yta’s scales. “I’ve got so much that it overflows into the living room.” T’a’yta looks up from his mini house. His blue eyes reflected the sparkles in your own.

“Would you have time later today to show me?” he asked you. “I can show you my own whenever you want. It’s on my ship.” On my god, his ship? You’ve never stepped foot off of earth before. Would he take you at least into the atmosphere of earth? That… that would be a dream come true.

“I would happily show you.” Next, you added the lighter tan color to the dragon’s chest and belly. “I might have a few book you may want. I would be more than happy to let you borrow… if you let me borrow some,” you teased him with a sly smile. His mandibles widened into his own smile.

He let his paint brush stop for a moment. “Name a time. I’ll make it happen.” You nodded your head rapidly. T’a’yta chuckled and returned to his paint job.

“Next weekend?” Not tomorrow. Even though you have it off. Like you’ve said before, you wanted to take this slow. You’ve learned your lesson before to go slow in a relationship. It’s a safer route. Next weekend offers plenty of time to recuperate after today. Work is the only think that gets in the way.

“it’s a date.” No one could wipe off the smile on your face. Another date. It’s already planned. For trading books and seeing an alien space craft up close and personal. That couldn’t come quick enough.

This date continued on. The two of you painting at what trinkets you’ve picked. Light conversation flowed between the two of you. It was nice to get to know him some more.

At the end of the date, you both take your pieces up to the counter. The same young man is there again and helps you with the checkout process. Before you had a chance to slip your card into the reader, T’a’yta beat you to it. You huff with a pout.

The worker estimated a week and half until you could come back to pick up the figurines. You wished to be able to pick them up now. Because the little dragon was adorable while it was unfired.

If T’a’yta was a dragon, your figurine would be a perfect march to him. All the way down to his gorgeous blue eyes.

Both of you walked out of the strip mall shop and stood on the side of the sidewalk. Those that meandered around the city gave the bulky beast a wide berth. You stepped closer to him, wanting to take in the unique scent of his. How you were going to miss it over the week away from him.

It was unique to him. Alien if you had to put a name to it. But it made up T’a’yta.

Softly, you placed a hand on his clothed chest and stood on your tippy-toes. Even then, you didn’t reach his shoulders. As if he could read it on your face, he bends at the waist. This close to his face, you saw all the small details that made up his features. To the light scars, to the dark speckles in his blue eyes, to the wrinkles that showed his age as a skilled elder. You reached with your free hand towards his cheek and cupped it gently. It gave him all the time in the universe to pull away if he wanted. Instead, T’a’yta leaned into your touch, eyes slowly closing.

“I wanted to thank you for all of this. You don’t have to pay for me though. I can pay for my own stuff,” you told him in a voice above a whisper. What’s with Yautjas and wanting to spend their money? The next time, you had to beat him to the punch. No matter what.

T’a’yta’s eyes opened quickly. The brown Yautja stood back to hid full height. Your hand snapped back, surprised by his sudden movement. But, he caught it before you had a chance. You were pulled into his space, closer than before. “You don’t pay for anything. I pay. I have told you this before,” he growled deep from his chest. Something about it wasn’t scary or terrifying. It was a statement. He wouldn’t let you win this.

The unfamiliar feel of his skin against your was a stark reminder. You felt a shudder run up the length of your spine. “I’ll provide for you. This is my way of showing that to you. I’m an elite hunter. I provide.” Shit, and he did that on the first date. He really, really did. And he kept doing it too.

You took a shaky breath in and released it. Yet, you were a stubborn creature. More than a mule on a bad day. As much as you wanted to tell him no, you knew that wouldn’t work. He’s just like you. You could see it in his eyes. With another deep breath, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and tugged him down to your level. For a moment, you hesitated, trying to figure out how you’ll do this. Then, you pecked your lips on his upper, inner jaw. His body tensed under your touch the second your mouth made contact with his. Then, his hands gripped your hips and tugged you closer.

“I’ll take this as you agree.” Damn him.

“I’ll get you one of these days,” you retorted at him. T’a’yta chuckled and rubbed his eyebrow to your forehead. A sign from him in Yautja that he returns the affection.

“Let’s go to my apartment. I still need to show you my library,” you offered to him. His fingers clenched on your hips for a second before he released you.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he agreed before stepping back and giving you space to breathe. His scent still filled your nostrils and almost overwhelmed you.

The two of you began to walk down the side walk, ignoring everyone’s eyes on you. They were judging you. But, you could care less about what they thought. If your love was to an alien, who cares? He treats you like royalty.

Like a guardian, T’a’yta walked in step with you. All the way back to your apartment. Unlike last time, you let him in and showed him what your home looked like. The library was a plus.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader

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strawberry-nugget · 5 months ago

Text

Co-parenting with Kirishima is so messy

You loathe this time of the week. The anxiety that paces to your nervous system, the blood rushing to your veins when your phone rings and a certain name pops up and you wish it wasn't your typical Wednesday night. You, somehow, wish you were in your hometown, every single time, far away from all this madness that's called co-parenting. It's draining, to say the least, to have to always be there, to have to rely on someone who isn't even there most of the time, because you're forced to do so, by law.

For your daughter it's different.

Your phone ringing means one thing and one thing only; daddys here. That alone as a fact makes her scream with absolute joy; oftentimes it makes her run around like she's mad, because even at four years old she knows exactly what it means. Daddy is coming to pick her up. and as much as you'd like to share the same joy with her as you once would, you don't want to see his face. Ever. Yet you have to, twice a week.

Her bags are already packed even before he arrives. He’s always late, always always, always late for hours to no end and youve considered letting your lawyer know, in case you get full custody, but you know you can't do this to her, take her father away from her or take care of her on your own. The fact that he's even participating in all of this amazes you. Plus you just don't wanna get on his bad side in this ordeal.

So you compromise. The very thing you'll always do.

Today, much like every other week you experience the excruciating thing that is your anxiety

Kirishima rarely parks the car outside; he says it's not easy to find a parking spot, that he can't be bothered with it -he is picking amira up after work- claiming he wants to get home as soon as possible. He's tired, that's all, and you're happy you don't have to interact with him face to face.

Unfortunately today is one of those days that he takes that extra mile and parks his car, rings your doorbell and probably hears your daughters scream of joy at it, and gets up to your apartment.

"It's me" He says when you ask, in an almost -almost- disgusted tone coating your voice, 'who is it'.

"Yeah give me a second"

You wish he'd forgotten your floor, or the doorbell to your house, but he hasn't, and it's not even a minute later when he lets you know he's there. He knocks the door before he enters, even though you've left it slightly open the second you opened the downstairs door for him.

A sign he's welcome in. Barely.

Amira screams when he enters. You on the other hand, roll your eyes. He pouts his lips and raises his eyebrow in response. You want to punch him, the way he still makes you so nervous is almost unbearable… does he perhaps want to punch you too? Is it unbearable for him too? Probably not, you think and swallow your pride before mastering the courage to utter a greeting.

"Hello"

"Ayeee girl"

You don't have enough time to consider how awkward it is to just stand there and look at each other because your daughter pours herself into his arms -as you turn to look away- it's only then he utters more than one actual word.

"How's my baby doing?"

"I'm good daddy" Amira replies as her father puts her down and drops to a squat in front of her. He's too gentle, too nice, it's almost making you forget how you've struggled, at one point, to get him to be in her life.

He brushes the stand of hair that's strayed away from her middle part and sticks to her forehead, so nicely, so tenderly, but her lower lip is quivering as shes looking at him with big bug eyes -they're slowly watering too- and you know your baby is about to burst into tears.

Which she does, as you expected, only a minute later. It's a common phenomenon; whining when her dad visits, crying because she's missed him, because she doesn't understand why she can't see him every single day. You loathe that. This feeling you know too well, missing him, wanting to see him more but not being to. You hate it with all your might that your daughter has to feel that way about him too. It feels like a never ending circle if misery, and you wonder, way too often, how much you're to blame. There's a heavy weight of responsibility that you carry on your back when you think about that.

Unexpectedly, you're snapped to reality when she runs to you for comfort. Not him. She's up in your embrace in no time and Kirishima kisses his teethteeth, annoyed.

"Why are you crying baby?" She doesn't reply to you, only burries her head into your shoulder further "daddys not going away, you're going to stay with him for a few days as always"

She sniffles more and hangs tight onto you when she feels Kirishima's hands wrap around her so he can snatch her from your arms. She's never denied him like that.

"Did she wake up with a tantrutm?"

"No she was too happy before you came in"

"And why she's acting like this now?"

"She's a child"

He can't argue with that. Amira is known to be whiny and sad when she has no other way of expressing her emotions. No matter how hard you try to help her communicate her feelings, she ends up coming back to it- just like you. You wish she hadn't gotten that part of your character, but oh to all that's unfortunate, she did.

"Are you crying because you missed daddy baby?" You ask her voice softer than a feather against her tiny ear

"Mhhhm" She sniffles

"Do you want to hug him?" She nods yes into your shoulder but her hands linger their grip on you for more than a second when Kirishima takes her in his embrace.

From then on, she's happy. She finds her smile again when Kirishima plops onto the couch with her and they tickle each other. It feels like you're watching two puppies play fight but you don't smile, you only feel bitter. At least, Amira, will be enjoying her self until-

"Sunday morning, is it good?"

Kirishima looks at you, dumbfounded "is what good?"

"I'll come pick her up on Sunday with my dad. It's quite a few days. So I'm asking. Do you have anything to do?" There so much hesitance in your voice, you're surprised you're not stuttering.

"I don't. Do you?"

"Yes she does!" Amira replies before you can even open your mouth

"Really?"

"Yes daddy! She's going on a date and she bought a pretty dre-"

"Okay you bigmouth", you laugh it off "That's not any of daddy's business"

"Oh because he doesnt love you. Right?"

"Ah, yes?"

You avoid looking at him, utterly embarrassed. You should have listened to your mother when she said that kids do repeat what they hear, even if you tell them not to. Now you're left with Kirishima looking at you like you've committed a crime while sighing.

"So who are you going on a date with"

You feel your throat tighten. A breath catches in your chest, and your first instinct is to deflect, to dodge, to act like the words never left Amira’s tiny, traitorous mouth. But Kirishima is staring at you, waiting, his expression unreadable—half amused for the better part of it.

“None of your business,” you say quickly, to shut this whole thing away, but your daughter doesn’t seem to be done at all.

“Mommy was on the phone all night,” she adds, turning to her father with wide, doe eyes. “She was smiling a lot too!”

Kirishima raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching as if he’s about to smirk but stops himself. He leans back on the couch, stretching his legs out, his arms still loosely around Amira. You hate it— that they so loosely resemble each other at a part in your house. You hate him and mini him can’t keep their mouths closed ever.

But Amira is just a child.

“Oh?” Kirishima hums, tilting his head at you like he’s waiting for more.

You roll your eyes so hard you might sprain something. “Amira, baby, did you get your favorite teddy? You almost forgot it last time.”

She gasps like you just reminded her of the most important thing in the world, scrambling off the couch, away from her fathers hands and disappearing into her room. The second she’s gone, Kirishima’s smirk fully blooms with mischief.

“A date, huh?”

“Drop it,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. Kirishima stares and you see it; his eyes linger at your chest and you know what he’s thinking of.

But he’s not going to ruin this for you.

“Why?” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, studying you like you’re something to figure out. “I’m just curious.”

You scoff. “Since when do you care?”

His jaw tenses for half a second. “I don’t. Just didn’t think you were the dating type anymore. Being celibate and all…”

Your fingers curl into your palms, nails pressing into your skin. You hate how easily he gets under it, how easily he pulls reactions from you without even trying. You want to jab at him — with something across the lines of ‘And I didn’t think you were the fathering type, being a pro hero and all’. But you settle for something milder, a comment on his dating life as well.

“I thought you were dating left and right though?”

“Yes but Amira never finds out” he argues “why would she know that you’re going on a date?”

Furiously you lean over to him, you hate him,M so bad, you could just…. Pour all that poisonous speech you’ve been suppressing over him. He does not tell you how to parent Amira, especially when he

“Ditched me and her to go be with your new girlfriend! I had to beg to get you to do this regularly! I’d rather she had a regular father! I wanna give that to her since you can’t!”

The words slip out before you can stop them. They’re harsher than you meant.

His face shifts—just slightly. A flicker of something behind his eyes. Annoyance? Guilt? You don’t know. He exhales through his nose, looking away for a moment before shaking his head.

“Low blow,” he mutters.

You don’t say anything for a while and it’s truly better— you’d rather avoid seeing him any time that you can.

So the silence is alright. It’s fine. Daunty!

Then Amira’s tiny footsteps come pattering back into the room, her teddy bear clutched tightly in her arms. She jumps onto Kirishima’s lap again like she belongs there, grinning up at him. “Got it, Daddy!”

And just like that, the moment of silence and intense awkward staring is gone.

You clear your throat, strolling around the kitchen to grab Amira’s things. Ever so reluctantly you hand them to Kirishima, who’s already up from the couch with your daughter in his arms. Like he’s scared to overstay his welcome now.

Good.

“She’s got everything. Don’t be late on Sunday.”

Kirishima nods, adjusting Amira in his arms as he marches towards you. His expression is unreadable again, but there’s something about the way he glances at you before heading toward the door—like he wants to say something but thinks better of it.

“Bye Mommy” Amira says and you scooch over, to place a wet kiss on her cheek.

“Bye baby, love you.” You wave “Bye Eijiro”

“S’yahhhh”

Only Amira keeps waving her hands enthusiastically. He doesn’t look at you.

You don’t watch them leave. You just close the door behind them, press your forehead against it, and let out a slow, shaky breath.

You hear Kirishima’s footsteps fade down the hallway, followed by the soft jingle of Amira’s fuzzy keychain for her backpack. You don’t move from the door until you hear the front door to your apartment building shut.

#kirishima #kirishima eijirou #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha #bnha x reader

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barnesandwilsons · 1 month ago

Text

Operation: Go Hammy

a/n: since i got sm love on the first part (i hope you guys enjoyed) genuinely hated how it started but i think it gets better as it progresses.. NOT PROOFREAD AT ALL (i'll do it later i guess)

this is a CONTINUATION from part 1 👇

part 1: Maybe, Just Maybe

pairing: bucky x reader

wc: around 5k

warnings: cutie bob, bucky being sweet, reader being awkward for a TEENSY bit, ava being mentioned, walker wanting pizza rolls, alpine

summary: after spending a while with the thunderbolts new avengers, you begin to realize your feelings for someone.

The kitchen is dimly lit, and through the windows, the dreary New York sky bleeds in — all gray clouds and soft drizzle, like the city itself can feel how you feel.

Bucky’s looking at the pantry, his back turned, searching for anything that looks easy to make. As you walk fully into the kitchen, you can see the infamous peanut butter sandwich. Bucky feels your presence as he turns to you, “How bout I make you some pasta?”

You tear your eyes away from the sandwich, looking up at his blue eyes. They’re kind. He’s being patient with you – no one ever has.

You nod. “Pasta sounds great.” A small smile pulls from him as he grabs a box of little pasta shells, moving back to the stove as he starts to boil the water. A few minutes later, he gets impatient and pours the pasta in the boiling water.

“I’m not really the best cook,” He stated, looking over his shoulder. “But, pasta," He says, shaking the box of little shells, "is something very easy and essential in life."

You lean against the counter watching him work, and smirk faintly at his words. “Yeah back in Romania, I swear I ate pasta around 50 times in a month.”

He pauses at your words. His head tilts slightly, not fully looking at you but enough to demonstrate his shock.

“Romania?” He repeats, now fully turning to you.

You nod, suddenly feeling in the spotlight for some reason. “Yeah. It’s where I went after…everything. It was quiet and had cheap food. Practically heaven.”

He hums in understandment.

“I was in Romania for a while too,” He says, almost like he’s reminiscing about a time of peace in his life, “After Hydra.”

You glance down at your hands, “Small world.”

“Yeah.”

The pasta bubbles behind him, immediately breaking his focus on you. He turns back to stir it, breaking the moment softly. Then you hear a new voice, “I smell food!”

Bob pops up to the kitchen. Oh sweet Bob. You’ve probably seen him around like twice ever since you got here. Apparently he tried to destroy the world, but you don’t believe it.

Bucky immediately sighs, “Go away, Bob.”

Bob just smiles. “I finally come out of my room and this is what greets me. Rude.”

You let out a small laugh before you can stop yourself.

Bob points at you triumphantly, like he just won a rare award. “Ah-ha! I made her laugh. I am so staying.”

“Bob,” Bucky warns slightly, he uses his metal arm to grab some hot water and flings it at Bob. Bob yelps, and side steps so he can avoid it.

“Okay, so, I think that's my cue to leave,” Bob jokes, already backing out of the kitchen, “Truly nice officially meeting you, Mystery Girl.”

“Bob!” Bucky warns, now focused on stirring the pasta because it’s almost done.

“Bye, Bob.” You smile and wave as he leaves.

“Sorry about him.” Bucky apologizes, feeling the need to.

“He’s great, dont worry about it.”

Bucky glances back at you, “Yeah don't tell him that.”

You grin, honestly now you understand why Yelena likes it here. She works with hot idiots. Bucky drains out the pasta, and starts to look for the pasta sauce. You set eyes on it as you walk by, grabbing the jar and opening it with a soft pop before handing it to him without a word.

He pauses just a second too long as he takes it from you, like he isn’t used to people giving him things without asking. “Thanks,” he says, his eyes briefly locking with yours.

“Don’t mention it.”

Silence falls against the both of you. He quickly adds the sauce and mixes it in the pasta. And before the silence gets the chance to linger, Yelena bursts in, sniffing the air.

“Do I smell Mac & Cheese?”

“No, Lena,” You clarify as you turn quickly, you forgot this girl's obsession with the kids meal, “Pasta.”

“Pasta?” She repeats, almost offended, “Now c'mon, that's just depressed mac & cheese without the cheese.”

Bucky almost groans. He’s clearly trying to get to know you, while the rest of the team is almost hell-bent on making that impossible. “It’s pasta. With Marinara Sauce.”

“Well add cheese,” Yelena adds and turns back to you, giving you a once-over, “Where the hell did you get those clothes?”

You would get flustered, but now is definitely not the time for that. “Bucky loaned them to me. Since all my shit is in the washer.”

Yelena gives you a weird look. Yeah right.

Finally, Bucky is done with stirring the damn pasta. Trying to keep some common decency, he turns to her. “Would you want a plate?”

Almost forgetting he was there, Yelena turns away from you and walks to the pasta and almost frowns. “Yeah, gimme one sec.” She then opens the top cabinet, grabs Sriracha sauce and squirts it on the pasta.

“Sooo much better,” she smirks, clearly feeling proud of herself and looks at Bucky, “Go on and try it, you’ll thank me later.” She quickly plates the food, waving you over and gives you the plate.

You smile at the plate, give Bucky a quick glance and say a quick thanks.

You all eat at the island counter, plates in front of you, a small conversation between a few bites. Well, Yelena is basically the only one speaking, talking with pride as she ranks the different types of fights she’s been in. You laugh more than you expect to, easily forgetting the mission beforehand.

But eventually, her phone starts to buzz. One look at it and she softly groans.

“Ugh, this girl,” Yelena complains, stuffing the last of her pasta in her mouth, picking up her phone and sending a quick text back. “Alright guys, I’m out to help Kate Bishop.”

Bucky and You share a confused look. Who?

Not caring to clarify, she grabs her plate, puts it in the sink, and pats both of your heads as a goodbye.

You stare at the plate in the sink, and the other two on the counter. You start gathering them and heading to the sink to wash them.

Bucky stares at you and gets up following you to the sink, “I got it.”

“You cooked,” You stated, with a wave of your hand, “Least I can do.”

He scoffs as he gently wraps his hand around your wrist– a way to get you to stop, not even a firm grip, a soft, gentle one just like his soul.

“I said I got it,” He says softly, “Just sit down somewhere.”

Don't gotta tell me twice.

You sit on the counter next to the sink. “So what’s your story?

He starts to wash the dishes, not even being fazed by the question. “Surprised you don’t know.”

“Oh I do, Just wanna hear it from a firsthand account.” You shrug. If you’re gonna be living here, you might as well get to know your coworkers.

“To start, I’m around 100 years old,” He pauses for your reaction.

You tilt your head, “Honestly, you peg me for a much older guy.”

“Yeah, well, I started to use sunscreen.” He deadpans, washing off the soap from Yelena’s plate.

“Must be some type of sunscreen.”

“Mhm.”

He starts again, “I got drafted, I fell off a train and lost an arm.” He stops and slightly raises his metal arm to the best of his ability since he was holding a dish. “Hydra found me and well, I’m guessing you know the rest.”

You nod, “That’s tragic. Sorry for bringing it up.”

“Nah, You get used to it.”

You feel bad. After everything this man has been through, he’s still kicking? It almost makes you feel embarrassed that you feel this way about yourself.

Reminder; try to be more positive.

You hop down from the counter, brushing off his hoodie. “Thanks for dinner, Bucky.”

He nods. “Anytime.”

You start to walk off, but you pause once you near the exit, “Any chance I can still wear your clothes for the time-being?”

“Yeah, just keep ‘em if you want. They look better on you anyway.” He says, while he’s still focused on the dishes.

You’re just lucky your knees don’t give out right then and there.

It’s been 2 weeks since Bucky made you dinner.

A lot has happened in those 14 days.

Bucky lent you another set of clothes, until eventually, you realized Yelena has to take you shopping, or you’ll end up stealing the rest of this poor man’s closet. He also lent you his old, worn-in copy of The Hobbit after you mentioned wanting to pick up new hobbies.

It has a few annotations with his thoughts scribbled in the margins, a couple of question marks and a few rare sightings of his dry comments – but you don’t mind. You think it’s cute actually.

You also have seen Bob more ever since that one day – He’s pretty cool. A bit awkward. But cool.

He always offers to help when it comes to laundry, dishes or even basic cooking. You can tell he’s still struggling to figure out where he fits in. Maybe once you find yourself, you can help him.

Alexei was pretty loud, but you can tell it was from a place of love – or admiration. Or whatever else he has going on in that big head of his. When he’s not bragging about his days about being Russia’s very own ‘Captain ‘Merica’, he’s either helping Bob doing random shit, or finding new ways to annoy Yelena.

And Ava? You’ve talked to her a few times now. She’s cool too — but her powers? Yeah, straight-up terrifying. You’re glad she’s on your side.

So yeah, a lot has happened in the past 2 weeks.

Since you decided to take a tour of the Tower, you decided that the gym is your favorite place. So now, here you were listening to music as you work out. As you finish up, you decide to check your phone and see a couple of mixed texts from the “New Avengerz” GC.

Lena: 911

Ava: ?

Walker: what?

Lena: cat in the kitchen???

You frown, looking at your phone confused.

Who let a cat in the Tower?

And when can you meet it?

You’re about to tuck your phone back into your pocket, as you’re getting ready to return back to your room and hit the shower.

Yelena texts again, “nvm false alarm, it’s bucees cat.”

You freeze. Bucky? A cat person?

You don’t mean to judge a person by their cover, but you never expected James Buchanan Barnes to like cats.

A few hours later, your wish came true.

As you entered the kitchen, after Bob was done washing the dishes, you spotted a cute white fluffy cat.

Oh My God.

“She’s beautiful,” You mutter, only to yourself. No wonder Bucky has her, a beautiful cat for a beautiful soul.

What you didn’t know was that Bucky was looking for the cat.

Again.

For the 3rd time today. He needs to read a book on how to get a cat to behave properly. Thankfully, he made it to the kitchen entryway, as he saw you approach the cat.

You kneel slowly, trying not to scare it. Her beady eyes stare you down, tail flicking lazily behind her, like she’s sizing you up. Judging. Calculating. You pray that she doesn’t bite you.

“Hi, cutey.”

Bucky was just watching you, unafraid to ruin the moment, but he did anyway as he cleared his throat, “She’s harmless. Just has a flair for the dramatics.”

You glance up at him, lips almost pulling to a smile. “Wonder where she gets it from,” You extend a hand to her, as she sniffs it slightly. She nudges her head on your hand.

Yeah, you might just have to take this ball of joy away from Bucky.

You shift, sitting cross-legged as she climbs into your lap. Gently, you stroke her soft fur, completely in love. Bucky steps closer, settling beside you on the floor.

Who would've thought? Bucky Barnes, ex-assassin, with his heart almost melting at the sight of you with his cat?

Steve Rogers is practically rolling in his grave right now.

“She’s not like this with most people.” Bucky mentions, out of the blue, “Her name’s Alpine, by the way.”

You scrunch your nose at that adorable name. “She's perfect. I love her.”

“She's got good taste.” Bucky jokes, even softer now. Maybe, Bucky might have to thank his therapist for telling him to get a pet.

Alpine purrs. Your heart absolutely flips. Maybe you’re thinking about getting all the cats in the world. With how big this tower is, that seems like a great idea anyways.

You stay like that for a while, all three of you guys, unbothered.

Until your phone starts ringing.

You glance at Bucky sheepishly and gently hand Alpine back to him. “Bye, Alpine. Lovely meeting you,” you murmur, getting up to take the call as you walk away.

2 months have passed since you first got to the Avengers tower.

You slowly feel yourself being a part of this team. It took a while, but once you realized that this group was basically a bunch of damaged individuals, it got easier.

Ironically though, the one person you did hit it off with at first–Bucky, has become a little... awkward. Not in a bad way. Bucky didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just that you started to realize that he was really hot. Like distractingly hot.

But you’ll deal with that later.

For now, you and Ava had finally made it back from your tiring, 2 week mission, and all your mind is set up on is sleeping on your own bed. Nothing else even matters. Not even bothering to charge your phone, you make it into your room, shower, and then jump on that bed.

You were asleep in minutes.

The next morning; you woke up to your alarm, almost groaning at the fact you had to get up soon. Today was the day.

Not like the day—as in your wedding, but still, it was the day AKA your turn to go grocery shopping for the team. The Thunderbolts have recently started a chore wheel, like who's gonna take out the trash this week? Or who’s gonna attempt to do laundry next week? Interesting shit.

It might sound dramatic, but you hated doing mundane tasks. Like grocery shopping? Why can’t someone else do it?

Funny thing is, it was your turn to go grocery shopping a few weeks back, but you ultimately got out of it. You sighed, chanting to yourself to get up. Bite the bullet. One step at a time.

Perhaps even treat yourself to the shawarma spot before? Yeah. Definitely sounds better when you add that part.

You turned off your alarm, muttering, ‘five more minutes’.

You woke up 2 hours later.

How? Very, very good question.

Turns out, you didn’t actually turn off your alarm. You just yanked the Alexa plug straight out of the wall.

Problem solved. Good riddance. You check your phone– dead. Oh.

You forgot you didn’t put it on the charger.

You almost cry. You decide now it’s best to charge it.

You finally decide to drag yourself out of bed, the frame giving a tiny creak in protest. Barefoot, you shuffle towards the connected bathroom, wincing slightly as you turn the overhead light flickers on.

As soon as you do, you can see your reflection through the mirror. You practically groan at the sight. You close your eyes and rub them harshly, as if you can scrub the exhaustion away.

You take another shower.

Fast forward: you’re dressed, in desperate need of food, and internally bargaining for someone to go do your ‘task’ for you. You grab your phone, still on the charger, and text the GC, asking for them to send their lists. With that part handled, You leave your phone in your room as you make your way into the kitchen.

As you walk in the kitchen, in desperate search for coffee, you spot Bucky, right in front of the coffee machine, taking the last batch.

You just stare in utmost shock.

Granted, he felt a shift in the air and turned to you, almost glaring at the cup in his hands, “You good?”

You frown. The audacity.

“Just fine,” you mutter, a little too tightly, brushing past him as you search the cupboards for a mug. You grab the most aggressive one you can find: ‘Thanos was right.’

Fitting.

You decide to settle for tea. Bucky doesn’t say anything for the most part, he’s just silently drinking his coffee, as you drink your tea.

Then Yelena walks in.

“Good,” she says without anything else, pointing between the two of you. “Both of you. Perfect.”

Bucky raises his eyebrow, “Perfect for..what?”

“Grocery shopping!” She smiles sweetly, “Y/N is on the list today, but I decided to switch it up for today. So, team bonding. Off you go!”

Bucky blinks. Fuck this chore wheel. Can’t they just hire people to do these tasks?

“I didn’t sign up for this.” Bucky says, attempting to put his foot down.

“You live here.” Yelena deadpans, “Congrats! You have responsibilities!"

She grabs a drink from the fridge and is almost out the door before calling over her shoulder, “Don’t forget my Sriracha!”

–

AT THE STORE

You’re in the cereal aisle.

You don't even remember how you got here. One minute, you were reluctantly putting on real pants, and the next, you were pushing a cart with a grumpy Bucky Barnes walking beside you like he’s being forced into a hostage situation.

Because, technically, he is.

Since half of the team didn’t even send their lists, you were forced to choose the cereal for the next two weeks.

You stare at the shelves, trying to make an unbiased decision on whether the team is more of a Cinnamon Toast Crunch kind of crowd or if they give off Lucky Charms vibes. Bucky leans on the cart handle, impatient. “You’ve been staring at cereal for five minutes.”

“Well, my bad, if I can’t figure out if the team is–”

Before you can finish, he silently grabs a box of Corn Flakes, drops it into the cart, and starts walking away.

You blink. Corn flakes wasn't even an option.

As Bucky is leaving with the cart, you sigh, grab a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch anyway, and jog to catch up.

“Glad to help speed up the process,” He says nonchalantly, scanning the area as if the sugary cereals can kill him. “Where next?”

“Okay first of all.. you didn’t speed anything up. You just made a really bad decision,” You say, tossing your cereal box into the cart with a dramatic flair. “Second, we need to get the team’s protein powder.”

“Sounds disgusting.”

“Trust me..it is.” You shudder, “But, you definitely don’t need to worry, since you dont really need it.”

The next thirty minutes are spent roaming the store with Bucky, the two of you tossing essentials into the cart—some intentional, some impulse grabs. You argue over what counts as an “easier” snack and you almost forgot you were part of a superhero team.

Until it happens.

A girl—maybe college-aged, maybe younger, gasps loudly near the end of the frozen foods aisle.

“Oh my God. Are you guys the New Avengers?”

You freeze mid-reach for the frozen pizza. Bucky goes still, like someone just aimed a sniper rifle at his back. Slowly, you both turn.

The girl’s practically bouncing. “Wait—can I get a picture? Oh my God, my sister’s gonna flip. You guys are so much hotter in person!”

Bucky sighs through his nose like it physically pained him. You offer a small, tight smile.

“Yes of course!” You say, the media training they made you do kicking in. You motion to her to stand between you and Bucky.

To your surprise, Bucky even starts to smile—like, a real one. It’s almost charming. Look at that. He remembers how to interact with the public. Progress.

The fan takes the photo, and squeals again once she looks at it. “You guys are like my favorite team. Ever! Totally have to post this on my Insta! So– wait, do you guys, like.. live together?”

You blink. “I mean.. Technically.”

“In the same tower?” she presses, eyes flicking between you and Bucky, who starts to wish he stayed in the car.

“Yep.” He answers for you.

Her eyes narrow. “Are you two… like, together together?”

Bucky almost chokes. You, on the other hand, let out the world’s most awkward laugh.

“Uh, no! But we are definitely done here! Danger is calling,” You say quickly, grabbing the cart handles and making a sharp U-turn, “Say hello to your sister for me! Have an awesome day!”

Bucky practically chases after you.

The fan is left shocked but satisfied, as she clicks on Instagram and starts a Live. “Guys you’ll never guess who I just saw shopping together–”

—-

Back at the Tower, you're in the kitchen with Bucky, the both of you unpacking the groceries in silence—well, companionable silence, anyway. The fluorescent lights hum, cabinets open and close, and every now and then you bump into each other at the fridge.

Walker strolls in and decides to help you guys put the groceries away. After a while, you guys were done and Walker opens the freezer.

“Uh, where’s my pizza rolls?” He asks.

You pause, look at Bucky. He looks at you. Neither of you say anything.

Walker turns around slowly. “Guys.”

“Bucky forgot it.” you say, flatly.

Walker turns to Bucky. “You forgot my pizza rolls, Buck?”

Bucky doesn't even blink. “You didn’t send your list.”

“I said it out loud!”

You snort. “We’re human. We forget shit.”

Walker glares at Bucky. “I told you when we were at the gym!”

“I had headphones in.”

“We were in the sauna!” Walker sighs, tired of this shit “I risk my life for this team, and this is what I get.”

You quietly toss him a frozen burrito. “Here. Be grateful.”

Walker catches it and glares. “This better be beef.”

“It’s beef,” You nod, already walking out of the kitchen.

...You think it's beef. You’re like 60% sure you read it on the box. Okay, maybe like 40% sure.

You and Bucky both pause just outside the doorway, subtly listening.

2 minutes pass.

Walker grunts in satisfaction. “Okay. It’s beef.”

You exhale in relief and keep walking, Bucky falling into step beside you.

Once you’re both out of the kitchen, a brief silence settles in as you walk side by side. It’s not uncomfortable—just... different. Like something’s sitting in the air that neither of you have named yet.

You have a weird feeling in your chest. Being around Bucky Barnes brings out a weird side of you. You don’t wanna name. Not yet. Because if it is what you think it is—

Yeah.

You’re screwed.

You clear your throat, eyes looking ahead again. “Well... thanks for coming with me today. I know you didn’t really want to.”

Bucky’s quiet for a beat. Then, soft enough that you almost didn’t reach your ears, “Wouldn't have gone if it wasn't you.”

Your heart thuds.

“Oh,” You manage to squeak out.

Another beat of silence.

“Try not to forget anything, next time.” You say, like a coward.

Oh My God.

“I’ll do my best.” He replies, with a shrug that says he’s absolutely lying.

“I'm gonna find Yelena.” You give him the weakest excuse.

You walk off before you can say something even stupider, tossing a casual “See ya!” over your shoulder.

You don’t see the way Bucky watches you leave.

But maybe it’s better that way.

–

You find Yelena in her room, sitting cross-legged on her bed with a bag of chips balanced on her lap and some ridiculous crime documentary playing in the background.

She doesn’t look up when you knock—just gestures lazily. “It’s open.”

You step inside, shutting and locking the door behind you. “Hey!”

“How was grocery shopping?” She smiles, knowing exactly what she did.

You narrow your eyes at her. “It was alright.” You sit next to her, silently watching the show with her. As she turns to you, she tilts her head, “You know it’s obvious, right?”

You return her pointed look. “What is?”

“Your feelings for Barnes.” Yelena says, as if she didn't just drop a metaphorical bomb on you.

“Oh my God.” You groan, dramatically flopping onto her bed. “I don’t—I do not like that man.”

Yelena arches a brow, unimpressed.

“I mean, as a person, sure, yes, I respect him. But I don’t have feelings for him.”

“Mhmmm,” Yelena pretends to listen to you.

A sudden realization hits you like a bucket of cold water. “Wait… You planned the grocery store!”

“Look at that,” She says, smirking. “You used your smart brain.”

You stare, betrayed. “Yelena.”

“Team bonding,” she says with exaggerated air quotes. “I just pulled that out of my ass. You’re welcome.”

You stare at her. “I dont–”

She points at you, a mysterious look in her eyes. “You don't have to lie,” Yelena says, her tone extremely casual, “It’s normal. Girl likes Boy. Boy likes Girl. End of story.”

You shake your head, because it’s never that easy.

“No. Not end of story. There is no story,” You say, almost pleading, “I can’t like Bucky, he’s literally perfect!”

Yelena looks at you like you’re crazy. “Him?”

“He was literally in Congress. He’s friends with Captain America…” you mutter, like the words are proof of something. “And. I had options after I left the Red Room, and I still chose the wrong path. I didn’t know better, but I still chose wrong. That makes me a terrible person.”

Yelena pouts.

"Okay,” Yelena says softly, voice steady, “Well then you are fooling yourself. Because you’re not a terrible person and you still like Bucky.”

“Stop saying that— Lena, please.” You whisper, glancing around instinctively. You’re in her room, door closed, but still. You’ve never trusted thin walls.

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. I know my place. But Alexei—”

“Lena!” You hiss.

“What! Don't blame me, it's obvious.” She says, not even pretending to feel bad, “I can try to get him not to speak about it. At least not in front of Bucky.”

You feel the tension ease out your shoulders. “Thank you.”

–

The transition from fall to winter always makes Bucky feel…heavier.

To be fair, Bucky tries fighting this feeling. He’s spent almost his whole life feeling bad about himself, but lately, he's been getting better, courtesy of Dr.Raynor.

He loves his cat, Alpine, the little menace who isn’t afraid to stand her ground.

He loves the small bookstore that opened a few blocks away from the Tower, which rekindled Bucky’s reading phase, a quiet escape he missed dearly. Because ever since he joined this rag-tag team of heroes, he hasn’t fully had time to be by himself.

He’s even started to listen to some of the music you recommended, a nice attempt to drag him out of his olden days into the new century.

In general, Bucky has started to make peace with things.

It truly is the little things that matter.

Of course, he can’t help but notice the way you light up when he tells you he likes a new song, or how your face softens when he asks for more recommendations. Bucky knows it’s silly, but he likes these moments, even if he can’t bring himself to say it outright.

Ever since your departure from the Red Room, you threw yourself into countless hobbies, desperately trying to reclaim the pieces of your stolen childhood. Singing, writing, reading, painting, gaming—each one a quiet act of defiance, a way to remind yourself that you were more than what they made you. But the one thing that always pulled you back from the edge, the one thing that never wavered, was music.

Sometimes, late at night when Bucky couldn’t sleep, the nightmares being too much to bear, he'd listen to the songs you gave him. He’d picture you in your room, headphones on and swaying to the music gently. And it gave him hope, that maybe he could do it too, maybe he could find something that made the world more bearable to go on with.

On one of those nights, he found himself sitting alone in the dimly lit living room, Alpine curled up on the couch beside him. He didn’t even bother turning on the lamp. His thoughts were heavy, but the soft hum of music in his earbuds offered a silent comfort.

That’s when he heard your footsteps in the hallway, light but sure. You paused at the entrance, your hair tousled from sleep, wearing one of his old shirts that always made him smile.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked softly, stepping into the living room, surprised to see him.

“Yeah,” He mutters softly, as he raises the book he was reading in his hands.

At the sight of the book, you remembered how he loaned you The Hobbit, “Speaking of books, I’ve read your annotations.”

Bucky seemed to forget how to respond for a second, “You actually read those?”

“Well, it was kinda hard to ignore them,” You reply, settling next to him on the couch as Alpine took off and disappeared into the darkness. “I loved seeing how you view the characters. Makes the story ten times better.”

“Good to know,” He replied, smiling faintly at that, a tired but friendly smile which always made your stomach churn.

So many questions filled your mind, yet it wasn't the moment to voice them. Why was he awake? Was everything alright? What was his experience like in Congress?

For the most part, you kept those questions to yourself. But one of your thoughts had to slip out.

“What are you listening to?” You asked softly, your tone warm and curious, an attempt to change the subject.

He raised his brow, almost surprised by the question. Bucky gently pulled out one earbud, offering it to you as if sharing a secret. “One of the songs you recommended,” he said quietly, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment as he handed you the earbud.

Sliding it into your ear, you hear the soft beat of one of your favorite songs, you look at him. This was one of the first songs you recommended to him, because it helped bring you out from a dark place many moons ago.

You can't believe your ears, you turn to him with a small smile on your lips, “Can’t believe you still listen to this.”

“It’s a decent song,” He shrugs almost shyly, his eyes gentle, “Kinda helps…sometimes.”

You understand.

You don't say anything else, not out loud anyway. Instead, you just let the song fill between you, the familiar beat serving as a connection between you too. In that moment, there's no need for words or actions, the music says everything.

Bucky shifts closer to you, just slightly, as if the small distance between you guys was a barrier.

You feel the heat of his shoulder against yours, the comfort of his presence. He doesn’t look at you, You don't look at him, you’re just trying to slow down your heartbeat. Your gaze shifts to his metal arm; beautiful and metallic. Slowly and carefully, you reach out and lay your hand over his, your fingers tracing the cool ridges of the vibranium plates. He stiffens for a split second, then relaxes, his shoulders sagging just a little.

You know what this means. You know you’re trying to let yourself feel, something unfamiliar and scary, but also something you can’t keep ignoring anymore.

“I hope this… doesn’t make you uncomfortable. I just–”

Bucky shakes his head, cutting you off softly. “It’s fine,” he says, his voice calm and almost dismissive—like it’s no big deal to him, even though you both know it is. “Doesn’t bother me.”

You then, feeling bold and comforted by his casualness, reach for his hand. Your fingers wrap around his, the contrast of his cool metal arm against your flesh arm making you feel grounded. He doesn’t pull away—if anything, he shifts just a little, his thumb brushing against your knuckles in a silent reassurance.

You almost cry.

The warmth of the moment lingers, you make a mental note to yourself to write this down somewhere, afraid you might forget that this happened.

Eventually, you start to get tired and fall asleep leaning on his shoulder. Bucky was gentle, careful not to move too much and disturb your sleep, as he shifted slightly, sliding one arm under your knees and the other around your back to lift you up. You stirred a little, but didn’t wake, your head moving against his chest. He carried you to your room, the softest look on his face.

He opened the door and slowly put you on your bed, adjusting the covers to cover your entire body. He paused for a moment to look at you, your face so calm and peaceful even in your sleep. A small grin showed up on his face.

Then he remembered how this might look if you woke up right then, and he shifted back awkwardly. “Night,” he whispered softly, careful not to disturb you, and just a little embarrassed as he closed the door gently behind him.

After 3 hours of sleep, You woke up feeling a bit confused. You sit up slowly, trying to recall how you ended up here, in your bed, tucked like a little lamb in Mary’s farm. Then, You remember the soft music and Bucky hours before.

You remember the soft feeling you felt in your heart when you held his hand. A tiny smile tugging at your lips, as you brush your fingers over your soft comforter.

If only Dreykov can see you now.

---

guys dont hate me bc they will notttt be confessing anytime soon.

#bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #not proofread at all #thunderbolts fic

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emidescent · 2 months ago

Text

A Terrans Purpose.

A HDG Microfic, Featuring dollification.

It wasn't easy, switching from living under the accord to the compact.

At least beforehand I got to show up to work, get given my list of tasks to complete and complete them well.

If I was lucky my boss would even email me a picture of a pizza slice to let me know i'd done well.

But since the compact took over I no longer had that.

I tried to fill in my days attending the events and classes the Affini were propping up everywhere.

But dragging myself out of bed each day to find new things to do was so tiring.

The events were fun, don't get me wrong. But having to find and choose one is so draining.

I even tried to join a forum to get ideas for things to do.

But all the passive language just failed to compel me.

"For anyone who wants to join, we're learning to draw on Saturdays in Whisperleaf Park"

Well now I just don't want to make the effort to join y'know?

I brought it up to my therapist, she seemed a little concerned, but she had some ideas at least.

The first one was a bust, apparently factories are replaced largely by compilers.

The second was interesting for a while.

They installed a program called helper on my computer.

And when I opened it I received messages from sophonts requesting I assist in doing simple things for them.

Edit a document. Proofread a story. Offer my thoughts on a painting.

Unfortunately I realised they were coming from the same Affini who was tasked with giving me stuff to do.

I kinda lost the drive after that, I needed purpose.

The third idea she came up with...

Well it was certainly interesting.

I was to help Miss Hevershade, 7th bloom and her florets with odd jobs around the ship.

Apparently she lends her florets out to assist with events and to fill vacancies in floret positions in cafes and such.

(I thought they just closed down for the day if the florets were indisposed but apparently some Affini and Florets really need the routine, so they hire backup if they can)

And I won't lie. It was fun.

On my first two days Miss Hevershade picked me up with her florets on the way to staff a few cafes. And it was nice.

I got shown how to make coffee, and I picked it up pretty quickly.

Her florets surprised me, I was used to seeing them stumbling around, high off their asses, giggling at everything.

But these ones were elegant, refined. Perfect to a fault.

It surprised me when one grabbed my hand to guide me more effectively. Her hands were like mahogany wood carved into a purpose. Like mine, but smooth and hard. I don't know how, but her joints were like a dolls. It was....fascinating.

And made me extremely conscious of my own squishy hands in hers.

The other florets were the same, but with skin like ivory, ochre, or patterned like old world porcelain.

I asked Miss Hevershade later that night.

She called them her dolls, her little terrans who needed purpose. Who wanted to help. Who needed to help.

I didn't even last a minute in the silence that followed before asking my next question.

"Can I be a doll too?"

She smiled brightly and warmly.

She asked me lots of questions, pertaining to the transformation.

I wanted skin like the first dolls. Skin like mine.

I wanted the ball joints.

I wanted it all.

And now, with my brothers and sisters.

This one has it.

This one clicks slightly when she moves.

And this one loves it.

This one ticks when she's still.

And this one loves it.

This one gets to help people all day.

And this one loves it.

This one got a Mistress who loves her for who this one is.

And this one loves her.

Today we're assisting in a nightclub that's hosting a dance party.

Let this one pour you a drink?

#hdg #floretposting #dollposting #microfiction

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 2 months ago

Note

Do you have any good Superman au Sterek fics?

For sure.

It's a Bird! It's a Plane! It's a ...Tie? by 42hrb

(1/1 I 1,254 I General)

Stiles has thought that Derek might be Superman for months, now he has something close to proof.

Twice The Nice by notyourtipicalauthor

(1/1 I 2,269 I Explicit)

boyfriend and his twin brother that he had secretly lusted after. The night was filled with carnal pleasures, their bodies intertwined as they explored the depths of their desires.

Echoes of Fate by people_change_pt2

(3/? I 6,071 I Explicit)

When Jon and Jordan arrive in Beacon Hills to live with their grandfather, they seem like ordinary teens adjusting to a new town. Polite and helpful, they seem harmless to the Hale pack—except to Eli, who feels an inexplicable pull toward Jordan. It’s a connection Eli can’t fully understand, but his father, Derek, can.

Recognizing the bond between Eli and Jordan as the rare mate connection, Derek is determined not to let his son repeat his mistakes. Haunted by the regret of never telling Stiles they were mates, Derek sets aside his wariness, welcoming the brothers into the pack to give Eli and Jordan the chance he and Stiles never had.

But as hunters arrive in town, tensions rise, and Eli struggles to protect the pack while navigating his bond with Jordan. As secrets about the brothers’ arrival unravel, the truth threatens to change everything.

This is a story of second chances, where Derek fights to give his son what he lost: the freedom to choose love and the chance to claim it before it’s too late.

What's A Secret Identity? by Chrystie, imabignerd, kate882

(1/1 I 6,967 I Teen)

Stiles sipped at a mug of coffee, absently watching the news play in the break room. Because of course a news station couldn't play anything other than its own content, even in the one part of the office that was supposed to be a safe space from work. His interview with Superman was making a rerun and Stiles glanced at Derek before commenting absently, “I’d totally let Superman fuck me.”

Derek, who had been in the middle of a swig of coffee, choked violently, “That’s not something I needed to know at nine in the morning, Stiles.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “What time would you prefer I tell you about all of the things I would let Superman do to my body?”

Angle of View by petals42_tumblr (rosepetals42)

(1/1 I 8,017 I Teen)

Derek Hale is Superman. Stiles is Lois Lane's cameraman. They get closer than they are supposed to.

it's gonna take a superman by kellifer_fic

(1/1 I 14,184 I Teen)

Derek figured the Children of Villains support group would at least be full of outcasts like him. How wrong could he be?

Bending Steel by GrimReaperlover11

(16/16 I 25,369 I Teen)

Derek loved being Superman, and though he knew that being the man of steel came with a large amount of responsibility...there is this one person who he can not avoid..this one thief that always causes him to go weak in the knees and makes his mind go fuzzy. so what happens when he finds himself in a compromising position with this thief?

What happens when the man of steel...bends?

Batman Makes It Look Easy by Ilovesocks_24

(13/13 I 50,044 I Teen)

All of the big time superheroes like Superman and Captain America make everything look so easy. They manage to have regular jobs, save their cities and have time to maintain stable relationships. Derek wishes his life was that simple. He saves his city and works a regular job but he's pretty sure that Iron Man never hit on Batman, so why does Red Spark keep hitting on him?

Or the one where Derek and Stiles are both secret superheroes, but are too oblivious to realize that they're in love. Meanwhile there's a power draining supervillain on the loose.

Werewolves can't Fly by lhr111

(21/? I 56,874 I Explicit)

Derek has always been different, even for a werewolf. He was born with blue beta eyes, his sensory perception is better than an alpha, he is faster and stronger than any wolf they have ever met, and his instincts have never been the same as the rest of his pack. His mother, his alpha, has always loved him without judgement, but some of his pack are suspicious.

Making a choice for himself for once, Derek moves to Metropolis to take a job at The Daily Planet. He is quickly overwhelmed and captivated by fellow reporter Stiles Stilinski. Stiles has a secret, not-so-small obsession with Superman who went missing decades ago, and a burgeoning interest in the new grumpy superhero who recently started saving people around the city. Together the two will uncover the mystery of the Man of Steel, uncover crimes committed by an evil Argent-led corporation, and discover important truths about themselves in the process.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #superheroes #anon

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taleeater · 9 months ago

Text

Lab Rat Part 1

TMNT 2003 x Reader

Opening setting inspired by the blood draining scene in the 2014 TMNT bayverse movie.

Reader has she/her pronouns.

The turtles are captured and taken to a secret laboratory to be tested on. But they are surprised by what- or who they find there. With seemingly no hope for rescue, they are forced to rely on the strength and bravery of their frail and timid new friend.

Warnings: violence, torture, abuse, mention of experimentation, blood, injury, electrocution, whump

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

A pulsing headache, bright lights searing through his eyelids, muffled voices, and the subtle scent of ethanol. This is the uncomfortable sensation that greeted Leo as he drifted into consciousness. He blinked his eyes open to a squint, his blurry and slightly concussed vision trying to adjust to the room. In front of him, he saw a few figures moving around the wide open room of a low lit laboratory. Though it was hard to really make out the shapes past the bright spotlight shining in his eyes. He groaned and tried to move, finding his limbs restrained, arms stretched out on either side of him. Upon further inspection, he noticed a long thin plastic tube attached to his inner arm that snaked around the metal restraint on his wrist and fed down and out of sight. Squeezing his hand he tested the confines of the wrist strap.

“It’s a venipuncture IV… they’re draining our blood.”

Leo’s head snapped up to his right at the sound of his brother’s voice. His vision swayed at the fast movement and steading to find his purple clad brother restrained beside him.

“Donnie…? Where’s Raph and-“

“Hey!!! Leo’s up! How’s that concussion bro?” Mikey’s joking tone sounded further away.

Leo leaned forward as best he could and looked down past Donnie, seeing Raph and then Mikey strung up in a similar fashion as he was. Raph was still out cold with blood dripping from a wound on his temple.

Donnie followed his eyes and interrupted his thoughts.

“Raph got hit a bit harder than you did, he might still be out for a while.” He said with a sympathetic tone. “Do you remember what happened?” Donnie asked, in typical fashion checking for any brain damage.

Leo blinked for a moment, allowing for his mind to focus. “We were on patrol…”

The memory flashed before his eyes. It seemed routine, stopping a weapons deal from going down under a bridge by the Hudson. But when they had swooped down to start knocking out thugs, they had suddenly all been shocked with high voltage electricity. They were too stunned to find the source, the thugs stepping in quickly to knock them all unconscious before they could recover. The next thing he knew, he was here.

A low groan sounded from between Don and Mikey.

“Raph!” They all exclaimed, trying their best to turn their attention to their brother.

“Turn the lights off, will ya? My heads killing me…” He mumbled groggily.

Suddenly, a single loud clap sounded across the room, drawing their attention.

“Ah! I see you’ve all awoken. Well, mostly…” The dark figure snickered. His shoes clicked on the tiled floor as he walked closer and slowly emerged from the shadows.

A gangly pale man, slightly less than average height, thinning hair, and a white lab coat approached the podium. He stopped just shy of the base of the short staircase leading up to where the turtles were being held on display.

“I am Dr. Cobble. I am sure you are familiar with my close associate, Mr. Bishop?”

Leo, Mikey and Donnie all groaned.

“Him again? Doesn’t he ever give up?” Mikey bemoaned dramatically.

The doctor cleared his throat. “Yes, well, he was kind enough to supply us with this wonderful titanium steel adjustable medical grade holding platform. See how nicely they’re working? We can plug you full of needles and you can’t move an inch.” His giddy rambling shifted into an evil sneer that had Leo glaring daggers at him.

“In exchange, I am to provide Bishop with plenty of samples… of you four mutants. After all his trouble, I’m surprised by how easy it was to capture you!” He openly laughed at them as the brothers glared at him with trepidation.

“Now-“ Not allowing anyone time to respond, the doctor loudly clapped his hands again. This time the rattling of a dingy supply cart squeaked as it pulled up next to Dr. Cobble, pushed by another person in a lab coat. “Today, we are starting out with plenty of blood samples while you four get settled. In the meantime, I’ll have my assistant here patch up any open wounds. Wouldn’t want any festering to poison our precious samples after all!” He said in a sing-song voice and strolled away to another part of the room.

“….I really don’t like him.” Mikey groaned.

“Don’t worry Mikey, we’ll find a way out of here soon!” Donnie comforted him. Raph was still worryingly quiet from his head injury.

Leo had his eyes trained on the lab assistant gathering up a tray of what appeared to be bandages and antiseptic and carried it up the stairs, approaching Leo first.

Leo bared his teeth at him and glared with sharp eyes, a warning not to try anything funny.

The intern just looked at him with tired eyes and huffed, clearly unbothered as he instead passed Leo by and walked down to start with Mikey instead.

“Woah, hey- careful with that! Ow!” Mikey loudly protested. Leo and Donnie worriedly leaned forward as best they could to watch the assistant clumsily and not-so-gently rub an ointment from his coat pocket thoroughly into the large bump on Mikey’s head and slap a large square bandage over it. Luckily their brother’s injury was not severe enough to break the skin.

Mikey whined irritably as the bored lab assistant moved on to the seemingly unconscious Raph. He gathered some antiseptic on a piece of gauze and reached his hand up to wipe away the blood trailing down Raphael’s face. When suddenly, quick as lightening, Raph’s eyes flashed open and he lunged forward as far as he could, snarling and snapping at the assistant causing him to startle and stumble backwards out of range. He dropped his tray with a loud clatter and lost his balance, tumbling off the edge of the podium with a loud gasp. He hit the tiled floor with a thud followed by a long groan. Several of the other scientists in the room rushed to his side to check if he was okay.

Raph chuckled darkly. Despite the bleeding head wound he still had some bite left in him.

Leo looked over and gave his hot headed brother an amused smirk. Mikey was chuckling and Donnie sighed in relief, deflating a bit in his restraints.

“What happened??”

Dr. Cobble strut back to the front of the room, looking frustrated. Two other scientists rushed up to him and spoke to him quickly, while the group gathered at the base of the podium dispersed when two scientists carried away the injured assistant off to another room.

“I leave you idiots alone for TWO MINUTES and you’re losing control of the test subjects. It seems like you all need a little reminder as to what to do when that happens.” Dr. Cobble stepped forward and pulled what appeared to be a remote out from his pocket. He turned a dial and flipped a switch, and in seconds Leo and his brothers were alight as electricity surged through their bodies from the restraints on their wrists.

Dr. Cobble laughed shortly as he watched them struggle, before eventually flipping off the switch.

The turtles were left panting as they tried to catch their breath.

“See? Easy as pie. Any time they act up, just use a remote! That’s what we had them updated for, to include the new additions!“ He shoved the remote back into his pocket and regarded his team. “Now, who would like to volunteer to finish cleaning up these animals?”

No one spoke up or stepped forward. There was a hush over the room as the few left standing around shifted uncomfortably. Clearly less than enthusiastic about approaching the red one again.

“Really? No one?!” The doctor's expression pulled into a sneer as he clearly became angry.

After a brief pause, a small hand reached up from the back of the room.

Someone had volunteered.

Dr. Cobble's expression morphed into one of twisted amusement as he straightened.

“Ah… my dear (y/n)… Have you decided to make yourself useful today?”

There was another pause and the small frame concealed in shadows shifted uncomfortably. They weren’t wearing a lab coat, Leo observed.

The doctor appeared to grow agitated at the lack of response and curled his hand into a fist.

“Come. Here.” He jabbed at the space in front of him as he ordered.

There was a quiet gasp from the small form, followed by the padding of bare feet across the tile as they approached the doctor.

The room was still. Leo’s breath caught in his throat as the form of a frail young woman in a white papery hospital gown and a ratty gray cardigan, crossed into the light and stopped timidly in front of Dr. Cobble, her eyes downcast. She appeared to be close to Leo and his brothers in age.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” The doctor cooed in mock comfort. But it didn’t last long. He frowned at her with cold eyes and thrust a finger in the direction of the abandoned supply cart.

“Take some bandages and disinfectant up to the mutants and treat their head wounds. And be quick about it.” He followed with another loud clap that made her jolt, before she quickly nodded in confirmation and scurried over to grab what she needed from the cart. The rest of the laboratory personnel easily returned to their duties, no longer paying attention.

Leo looked over at Donnie and caught his brother watching the small figure with the same puzzled stare as he was. The purple turtle caught his eyes and they shared a questioning look before turning their attention back to the girl. She piled up a tray with gauze, bandages, and another bottle of antiseptic, before carefully ascending the stairs towards them.

She locked eyes with Leo first, and tried to offer him a small shy smile as she stopped in front of him. Her hair appeared to be unkept and overgrown, and noticed a strange metal collar fixed around her neck that caught the light as she moved. The skin peeking out underneath looked red and chapped.

“Hi…! Um… I’m (y/n)… what’s your name?” She quietly asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She wasted no time crouching down to place the tray at his feet, carefully extracting some disinfectant onto a piece of gauze as she glanced up at him intermittently to show she was listening expectantly.

“Uh…” He glanced around first to check that Dr. Cobble had left. “Leo… my name is Leo.” He offered, feeling his brow ridges crease in confusion.

The girl straightened up and faced him again, poised with the gauze in hand.

“Leo!” Her expression seemed to brighten marginally. “Can I touch you with this? I need to disinfect your cut before I put a bandage over it. I-If that’s okay.”

Leo was honestly a little taken aback by the request. “S-sure, do what you need to.”

He watched her nod at his consent before slowly reaching up in his line of sight, so he could watch what she was doing, and gently dabbing the damp gauze at the tender spot on his head. He flinched and hissed a little at the sting, making the girl pull her hand away and locking eyes with him.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts a little. Can I keep going? I promise I’ll be careful.” Her eyes carefully searched his, her brows knit with concern and a hint of uncertainty.

Leo hesitated at such careful treatment. It almost felt like a trick. What did she have to gain from this? Who was she?

With no other current options, he sighed and pulled a half-smile. “Go ahead.”

She searched his eyes for a moment longer before returning to her task. Diligently swiping away the dried blood on his temple before stooping down and returning with a thick bandage.

“I’ll just apply this bandage and… there! We’re done. Thank you Leo.” She flashed him a small grin before pulling the tray over to work on his brother.

Leo blinked as he processed the interaction, lightly baffled. Then Donnie’s stuttering caught his attention.

“Y-y-y-yes! That would be fine, Miss (y/n). Please proceed.” He looked anxious as he watched her bend down to handle the supplies. She must be giving him the same treatment.

“Luckily, it looks like you aren’t bleeding anywhere… so I’ll just need to apply a little bit of this salve before covering your bruise with a bandage.” She held up the tin and let Donnie thoroughly look over the packaging, patiently making sure to flip it over so he could read through the ingredients and instructions. Once he seemed satisfied that the salve would be safe to use on his skin, Donnie gave (y/n) a grateful nod of approval. She then opened it in front of him and swiped out a little glob of the ointment, lifting her hand up slightly to his face after Donnie leaned down to try and smell it.

“It might hurt a little when I apply it… is that okay?”

Donnie met her eye contact and shyly smiled. “Yes, go ahead.”

And in the same manner she did with Leo, she gently dabbed on the ointment, doing her best not to prod at the swelling lump. Donnie made no noise of complaint. Then she reached down and retrieved a bandage.

“Okay, last step. Almost finished...” She looked very focused as she flattened the bandage into the right spot on his head. “All done! Thank you Donnie.” She pulled her hands away and looked at him kindly, before collecting her tray and moving over towards Raph.

This left Donnie with a similar look of bewilderment that Leo had from the exchange. He seemed a little lost in thought as his gaze drifted over to meet Leo’s, to which Leo raised an eyebrow at him, quietly asking the same question he was thinking.

“Oh no. Get that shit away from me.” Their attention was drawn over to Raph’s venom.

“I-I’m sorry! I won’t do anything you don’t want me to! I- my name is (y/n)…”

“And why should I care? I don’t want no scientist’s lackey touchin me. Now get lost.” Raph bit out angrily before settling again, his head hanging forward a bit limply as he relaxed. The girl looked downcast and seemed a bit lost, but fixed her hands together in front of her and made no move to touch her supplies or Raph.

“Don’t mind him, he’s always grouchy. Nice to meet you (y/n)! I’m Mikey.” The final brother piped up and pulled her attention. She looked over at him surprised, but quickly changed into a light smile.

“Nice to meet you too, Mikey. Is your head okay?” She asked him a little less quietly, seemingly emboldened by his outgoingness.

“Oh this? Yeah, this is nothin! You should see the other guy-“ Mikey spoke as animatedly as he could while fixed in place, his head moving around while he spoke. She giggled a little bit.

“Say, you don’t look like a scientist. Do you work here or somethin?” Leo and Donnie immediately perked up at the question, Mikey hitting the nail on the head.

“Ah- I-!” She stammered, looking nervous.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING???” A booming voice burst through the room.

All the boy’s eyes shot up to the sound of Dr. Cobble angrily striding back over to the podium. (Y/n)’s whole body was wracked with a violent tremble as she suddenly shrunk in on herself. Leo and Donnie couldn’t see her expression from their angle, but from Mikey’s eyes flashing between her and the angry doctor, his expression faded from deeply concerned to mad. Raph lifted his head up to regard the doctor with glaring annoyance.

“You should have long been finished tending to these freaks. And now I’ve caught you conversing with them?? I DID NOT GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO SPEAK!! Now…” The mad doctor’s eyes drifted over to Raph, and with wide eyes looked him over. “Oh…! Oh ho ho…!! And it appears you still haven’t finished your job!!”

He took a step closer to the stairs, his head tilted in question and his wild eyes bore into (y/n)‘s trembling form. The girl hiccuped and shuddered as she tried her hardest to muffle her erratic breathing. She did not dare move.

Dr. Cobble reached into his lab coat pocket and pulled out the remote again, not breaking his stare. (Y/n) flinched with her whole body at the appearance of the remote, but remained quiet. The boys all narrowed their eyes at the doctor in challenge, ready to feel the jolt hit.

The doctor’s face stretched into a grin, and with the remote’s setting turned up high, he flicked a switch.

But it wasn’t the same switch.

“AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!”

To all of the turtle’s shock, the electricity didn’t hit them. (Y/n) shrieked at the top of her lungs as her whole body tensed from the powerful volt that erupted from the collar around her neck. The poor girl dropped to her knees and hugged herself tightly as she spasmed, unable to escape the waves and waves of painful electricity that wracked her body.

“Hey… HEY!!! STOP THAT!! THAT'S ENOUGH!!!” To everyone’s surprise, it was Raph who started yelling.

“QUIT IT, SHE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG!!” Mikey joined in, furious.

Dr. Cobble only laughed as he watched the show. After what felt like far too long, he toned down the dial and shut her switch off. (Y/n) fell limp into a slouch on the floor. The smell of burnt flesh and iron reaching their noses. Their only sign she was still conscious was her shuddering breaths.

“Was it not you who volunteered for this job? You disappoint me, (y/n)! I let you roam around the lab today! Gave you a responsibility! And you not only neglect your duty, but I catch you speaking behind my back!”

The doctor paced back and forth at the bases of the stairs like a predator, easily ignoring the murderous glowers from the turtles as he kept his attention trained on the young girl.

“I’ll give you another chance to prove yourself…” Dr. Cobble’s voice softens in mock empathy. “Finish up your job, quickly and silently, and your testing today will be minimal. Am I understood?” His tone was cold and final. (Y/n) nodded quietly from her spot on the floor.

“Good. Now hop to it.” And with another loud clap, (y/n) startled into action.

She grabbed the gauze and spilled some disinfectant onto it, and leapt to her feet. Dr. Cobble stayed put, his eyes boring into her back as he watched her do her job. But still she paused. She sniffed wetly, biting her lips into a line as she hesitated in front of Raph. Her hand poised and trembling in front of his face but not moving to clean his wound.

“…hey. Hey hey hey, it’s okay. You can do it, okay?? I give you my permission, or- whatever. Just do it!” Raph scrambled to encourage her, realizing that what she was waiting for was his consent. He looked her up and down with palpable concern, actually seeing her now.

She reached up, and still with trembling hands, cleaned the gash oh so gently until it was cleared of blood. Then quickly retrieved the bandage and carefully smoothed it over the tender bruised spot on his head.

When she was finished, she picked up the tray, and almost stumbling from her shaking, rushed down the stairs past the overbearing watch of the doctor. She placed the tray on the cart, and joined by two men that appeared to be armed guards, was quickly escorted out of the wide echoing laboratory down a hallway that led out of sight.

The brothers were stunned in silence as they watched her go, flinching slightly as the sound of a heavy metal door slamming shut broke the spell.

“Well! I think we all learned a very valuable lesson today.” Dr. Cobble started cheerily, seemingly relaxed from his crazed state. He turned to the four turtles, regarding them strung up and half bled dry on their steel crosses, and sneering smugly.

“Do not disappoint me.”

To be continued.

#tmnt x reader #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2003 x reader #tmnt 2003 raphael #tmnt 2003 leonardo #2003 tmnt #tmnt 2003 michelangelo #tmnt 2003 donatello #tmnt fanfic #tmnt imagines #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt 2014 x reader #tmnt 2016 x reader

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azusaluvclub · 10 months ago

Text

weak hero reactions; making you cry

thank you @kaazunes for the request! this was a tricky one to write because, for some of these guys, i can't imagine what they'd do to make the reader upset lol- so not all of it is them doing something intentionally, but the reader being hurt over the guys' circumstances. i tried not to make the reasons too same-y, lol. hope you enjoy!

gender neutral as always~

jimmy bae / bae jihoon

⋆ He would never mean to make you cry, but Jihoon is a person who usually acts/speaks before he thinks. This would be one of those times

⋆ You can tell he's overwhelmed; whatever was happening with the Union has him anxious, every nervous tick of his on full display. To no avail, you keep prodding him to tell you what was wrong, with him repeatedly pushing you away

⋆ Fed up, he lashes out, telling you to stay out of it and leave him alone. “God, you’re so annoying,” he mumbles. You sink into yourself, salty tears pooling in your eyes

⋆ Once he notices, Jihoon immediately regrets his words. He grabs your hand and dries your tears with another, feeling like a complete dick (granted, he is one). It’s hard for him to apologize, since it does serious damage to his ego, but he pushes one out. He loves you too much to save his pride right now

⋆ “I’m sorry… You care about me, I know,” he assures, listening as you vent about everything that was weighing on you, and how you wished he’d offer you that same honesty. It shifts his perspective, as you often do; it’s what he likes most about you, because you change him in ways he never thought he could

⋆ After some more reassurance, the two of you work it out. You forgive him and cuddle up to watch a movie, not once letting each others’ hands go~

jake ji / ji hakho

⋆ Man, Hakho is such a good boyfriend that it’s almost impossible for him to make you cry. If you do, it’s probably when you're both crying, often over your guys’ favorite anime (one piece *cough cough*)

⋆ But you hadn't seen Hakho in days and were growing more and more worried. All your calls went to voicemail and your messages left on delivered. He'd do this sometimes when he was busy with Union affairs, but you were sick of it. So there you were, standing at his front door

⋆ When he comes out, his expression is defeated and the first words out of Hakho’s mouth are, “Why are you here?” He sounds disappointed to see you and it feels like a punch. Why are you here? Were you not supposed to care about him?!

⋆ You want to explode, until you notice the exhaustion on his face and realize you can’t. Instead, you break down crying, because you hate seeing him this way. You couldn’t understand why wouldn’t leave the Union when it was draining him so much, or why he'd constantly hide from you when things were rough

⋆ Hakho envelops you with his arms, burying your head in his shoulder. “I’m sorry, baby, I just… I can’t leave yet. I love you, but it’s not that easy.” You beg him to explain; he says there’s no point. Honestly, he wants to spare you knowing the more unsavory things he’s done, even if it wouldn’t change your love for him. "Next time I won't run from you."

⋆ Hakho comforts you until the tears subside and promises that he’ll leave soon. You know it’s just him consoling you, right now, but you'll keep hoping none-the-less

wolf keum / keum seongje

⋆ Seongje can be a prick, unintentionally or not. You know this, but his blunt attitude was what interested you in him and, at times, you loved it — until it bit you in the ass

⋆ You’ve dragged him to the mall for a shopping day. There was a family event coming up that you needed nice clothes for, and unfortunately nothing was working. Everything you’ve tried on fit wrong or washed your skin out. Seongje was no help, either, only shrugging or nodding to the outfits you’d showed him

⋆ Growing tired, you ask him to give a real opinion. He looks at you, “If I’m honest, it’s fuckin’ ugly.”

⋆ You frown and slink back into the dressing room, dejected, quickly changing back to your regular clothes. The whole walk home you barely speak, the words still spinning around your mind. Did he really think that of you?

⋆ Unable to take it any longer, your lips begin to quiver, tears brimming your eyes. Seongje notices and pulls you into an alleyway, a bit disoriented as he thought things were going great, and suddenly you’re crying in the middle of the street. He’s never been good with emotions or situations that required a lot of them, but he listens to you and tries to sympathize, wiping away your tears. It stings being confronted with the effect of his words on someone he cares deeply for, and watching you cry is the worst consequence

⋆ “Don’t cry, okay,” he says. “I didn’t realize I’d hurt you, sorry.” It’s easier to forgive when you see his pouty face, even though you want to stay upset. He’s still learning how to be less rough, but it's an honest effort; you'll give him some grace with that

⋆ He kisses your forehead and you kiss him back, giving up on shopping and deciding to visit the arcade instead (which was a lot more fun, anyways-)

forrest lee / lee sehan

⋆ If Sehan makes you cry, he cries too; and if you are crying, it's not typically his fault. Sehan is more normal than fellow Union leaders, so he's mindful of your emotions in a relationship

⋆ You were supposed to go on a date, but hours went by and it seemed like he was going to flake. You were confused as this wasn't like him at all, and it had you worried that something happened. When he didn't pick you up, you instead spent your night sobbing in bed. You'd thought that, though he's a delinquent, he would be different to you. But he stood you up and didn't have the decency to even send a text

⋆ Around 11, Sehan shows up and you promptly pull him inside to confront him. When the light hits his face, you gasp — it's covered in bruises, dried blood caked around his nose and the side of his head. His knuckles are battered, too, and your tears come creeping back in, dribbling down to your chin

⋆ Sehan jumps into boyfriend-mode, holding you tight regardless of how sore his body was. Making you cry hurt worse than all the punches he'd taken, especially when you cried because of him. He felt like shit; all he could do was apologize profusely and rub your back

⋆ "I wanted to come sooner, but... shit happened. I didn't want to ignore you, or have you see me like this," he whispers. "I'm sorry, I should've called." Sehan kisses your head and you melt into him. Even if you wanted to be mad, you couldn't

⋆ Once you've calmed down, you sit him in the bathroom to tend his wounds and plan out your next date, Sehan eager to make everything up to you

donald na / na baekjin

⋆ As much as he tries, Baekjin isn't always the most attentive. He's often caught up with overseeing the Union + his business endeavors, not giving him much time to really be there for you

⋆ The moments you get are brief so he tries giving you his full attention, but he gets distracted easily, even when you disapprove. This time you were out to eat, sitting in a restaurant way out of your budget, on one of the few dates you'd have. It was going perfect until he disappeared for 20 minutes to answer a call, leaving you all alone

⋆ You're let down, severely. When he returns, you're sullen, unsure if you should say anything. You don't want to feel this way, so you tell him you want his phone off the rest of the night. Baekjin lets out an annoyed sigh, "I can't, you know this. There's a too much going on with this Cheongang mess and I can't drop it."

⋆ It's a slap in the face. Your eyes sting, appetite wasted; you don't want to cry here, but you hate when he does this and now he's completely brushing it off. You can't fight the tears that come, and Baekjin's heart stops. "So is the Union more important than me?" you ask, his stomach tightening. Were you really this hurt over it? He didn't realize how serious it was to you and now he's regretting it

⋆ Baekjin reaches across the table for your hand, disappointed with himself. "No, it's not," he reassures, powering down his phone and shoving it in his pocket. "You are, so it's just you and me tonight. I love you." He kisses your hand and you soften at his touch

⋆ He spoils you the rest of the dinner, buying you all the dessert you want. He doesn't say it, but Baekjin feels relieved not having to worry about what was going on outside of your little bubble; all he needed was to see a smile on your face

kingsley kwan / kwan seokhyeon

⋆ You love Seokhyeon, truly, but you can get frustrated with him just as easily. If you tell him he's wrong, he'll do his best to change, however he isn't as perfect as he'd like to be

⋆ The one thing that comes between you is his loyalty to Baekjin. Sometimes you think he should date him instead, but that's you being petty. It's not uncommon for your plans to get cancelled because Baekjin needs him. While you try to not complain and see it from his POV, today you just can't

⋆ Seokhyeon is helping you prepare for your exams, as he's a lot smarter than you (and you like the time spent with him), until he gets a call from Baekjin. It seemingly lasts forever and once he hangs up, Seokhyeon tells you he has to leave. You frown; you've told him before not to do this. Not only that, he knew how badly you needed help on your exams, yet he's ditching you again

⋆ Your lips quiver as Seokhyeon packs his things. When he goes to say goodbye, he sees your watery eyes + red face and stops, frantically asking what's wrong. He knew you wanted to spend time together, but he thought you'd understand

⋆ You decide to let it out, how you feel second place to Baekjin and that Seokhyeon's relationship with him seems more important than the one he has with you. He drops his head in shame, knowing what you're saying is true — no matter the intention. Still, it stings to see you hurt over his actions

⋆ "You're right, I should be putting you first. I love you, there's nobody who matters more to me." You struggle to believe it, but he pulls you close and you allow yourself to try and accept it when he says, "I'm sorry."

⋆ Seokhyeon calls Baekjin and asks to see him later, cuddling up to you on the couch after. He kisses your cheek and pulls his textbooks back out, ready to help you pass your exams

#weak hero #weak hero webtoon #weak hero headcanons #jimmy bae #weak hero imagines #wolf keum #donald na #kingsley kwan #jake ji #forrest lee #weak hero x reader

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