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kombuuuu · 11 months

Note

NEEDD someone to write more about simp!miles and how he finally asks reader out. I love him w the trope friends to lovers i definitely feel like he would try to ask his s/o out and fail to so many times😭😭

Jitters.

Simp!Miles Morales x Gn!Reader

“Oh my god you’re clueless.”

THIS WAS LIKE FIVE MINUTES ADTER MY CALL FOR POST LMFAOOO OKAY BBY I GOT U ‼️

2 + 1 Trope? Got that DOWN baby.

—

The first time Miles had ever met you, it had been the most bland, unimportant, nothing-burger of a day he’d ever been privy to living.

The weight of his classmates gazes settled uncomfortably, but familiarly, onto his back. The whispers they shared with one another having him strain to hear over the beating of his own finicky heart.

A boring, low effort slide show casted on a lazily erased white board was barely keeping him from falling asleep.

And yet his foot wouldn’t stop tapping, the nerves alighting something within him like sparks near a gas leak. The way his heart was beating wasn’t just from the whispers flown around he knows weren’t about him. (He couldn’t help it, what if they are?)

There was something else, like an anticipation boiling his blood vessels. Spidey-sense through the roof and heart rate accelerating.

He stanced his feet, twisting them slowly to shoot out of his seat when ready, as if a crazed, murderous version of him was going to burst the the door at any moments notice.

The handle twisted, his vision honed in, ears sharp-tuned to every movement the muse terry figure made.

And as the door swung open, the breath he was holding left him. Exasperation and amazement at the person in front of him, the harmless, beauty of a person.

“Ah. Mx.[Last Name], Pleasure of you to join us,” His Teacher snarked, adding a hasty ‘finally’ to the end under his breath.

Miles shot the man a dirty look before focusing back onto you, as seemingly everyone had.

You caught people’s attention from the get-go, aura leaking something trusting, something good. Like out of everyone in the world he could talk to, he knows you’d listen in earnest.

You made eye contact with him, your eyes glistening against the light of the projector, he almost sighed.

You looked away again, addressing your Teacher. “Sorry Sir, I didn’t exactly know where to go.” You politely laughed it off, disrespect to authority wasn’t exactly something you wanted on your track record the moment you got to this place.

“It’s—“ He dragged a hand down his face whilst you shuffled in your spot. “It’s fine. Just go sit next to uh.-“

Miles say up a little straighter, a silent competition with the other people in his class crawling for your attention.

“Miles. Morales raise your hand.”

He felt almost smug as he did Small huffs of disappointment coming from his undeserving peers. You smiled at him, waltzing over with a confidence he could only dream, and sat in the chair beside him. He watched you unpack your stuff as the professor drawled on, and when you caught his watchful eye, you waved.

He blushed. The whispers definitely weren’t about him now.

—

One.

You were putting you books in your locker when a small tap was placed upon your shoulder.

Catching your attention, you stuffed the remaining books inside carelessly and turned to face the subject of curiosity.

The boy you had sat next to your first date stood shuffling foot to foot before you. Nervously scratching his neck and kicking his Jordans.

“Hey I- Uhh.” He coughed, scared his voice would crack in front of you, he almost cringed at the thought. “I’m Miles-“

“Morales. I remember you.” You smiled sweetly up at him, you did remember him. It was no lie, he was kind of hard to forget. “Oh, you do?”

“I mean, you were the only one in that class willing to sit next to a stranger. And you were pretty nice about it too.”

“Uhuh, yeah, that’s me.” Only one willing? With a person like you showing up? The entire room was glaring at him.

“Thanks for that, by the way.”

You closed your locker and turned back to him.

“Yeah, no problem. It was no big deal, really.” He rushed out, your presence alone making him nervous.

“Anyways I-,” he cleared his throat again. “I was wondering if you’d y’know..” He looked at you through his thick eyelashes, god he was pretty. “I’d…?”

“Wannahangoutsometime.”

You stumped for a moment, trying to figure out what he’d just said before laughing lightly. He swears he saw heaven the second you’d smiled at him.

“Yeah we can hang out, right now actually!”

Grabbing his arm and walking with him as you chatted. His breathing stuttered, unprepared for your misunderstanding of his intentions, but okay with the outcome. Having your arm linked with his, pulling him wherever you wanted to go like some puppy. Giggling and whispering to him something he couldn’t pay attention to over the sweetened sound of your voice. He was pretty damn okay with it.

—

Two.

It had been around three months since you had met Miles. And although you hated the thought, you only had your mean professor to thank. So, kudos to him.

You were into the boy, no doubt. His charming personality additional to the kind of dorky thing he had going on, you loved it. A month after the initial meeting, he had finally got the courage to ask you to hang out with him. It was probably the most adorable thing you’d ever seen watching him stumble upon his words.

Now you sat with him on the rooftop of his apartment building.

A picnic blanket had been laid for the both of you by Miles himself, and his mother had made snacks.

You had just met his mother, Rio. The sweetest woman you’d probably ever met. And by the way Miles and Rio interacted, you could only think how good of a man he was.

You can always tell the intentions of a man, by his treatment of his mother.

“Your ma is really nice.”

“You think? She’s kinda protective of me.” He turned to look at you through his peripheral, leaving enough space it wasn’t obvious. “I think it’s cute, she cares for you, y’know?” You shifted yourself to face him, the Sundown light glittering against his smooth skin. He looked beautiful here, you thought. He looks beautiful everywhere.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Good, ‘s always good to know you’re loved.”

Miles’ heart stuttered in his chest, sucking in a quick breath and turning himself to face you.

“Mhmm.”

You looked up at him, leaning on your hand, drifting closer to him subconsciously.

He let himself drift as well, your voices quieting without either knowledge.

“Miles?” Your soft words questioned him, doey eyes gazing up at him, heart on your sleeve.

“I wanna—“ His sentence was cut off, a blaring siren sounding in his head, nerves.

“I think I might..—“

He huffed, mad at himself for being unable to speak.

“Do you want- Holy shit.”

You laughed, leaning back, a genuine glee in your eye.

“Do I want holy shit?-“ You giggled, he felt his heart flutter along with his disappointment (once more).

“-Not really, no.” You kept giggling, the serenity of your moment with Miles and his fumbling an apparent treat to you. He buried his face in his hands and groaned loudly. Only furthering your hysteria, “Leave me alone.” He dragged the ‘lone’ dramatically before flopping back against the blankets. Huffing and staring up at you from his spot. The smile on your face was a quick fix for his soured mood, not that it was that sour in the first place. But knowing a moment of undeniable spark like that, had you smiling and giggling after, even if it led to nothing. Had his hopes and his pulse rate rising.

—

Miles was head over heels for you. He was smitten, a total and complete dog for your affection. Sitting at home sulking when you weren’t there to hang out with him. Making you add his steam solely so he can play games with you.

A puppy of a man, god he wasn’t even ashamed.

“Dude, you just need’a ask ‘em out already.” Hobie served no help to his ever growing dilemma with you, but did serve to humiliate his seemingly non-existed romantic experience. “I’m *trying, man. They just keeps misunderstanding.” “Are they taking the hint?” “What hint?” He looked up from his slouched spot in his gaming chair. Spinning the thing in circles idly. “You haven’t given ‘em a hint?” Hobie blanched at Miles, like it was some obvious mistake.

“What. Hint.”

“Oh my god, Miles.”

—

He still didn’t get it, Hobie had explained his way of ‘hinting’ to someone he liked them. Through slight touches and subtle looks, a wink here and there. But not a cringey wink (Miles would argue they’re all cringey.), the ones where you feel like you’re part of a secret. This would be helpful to him, sure. If had hadn’t done everything with you already, except the winking, that is.

He did touch you, he did catch your eye when everyone else around looked away. He kissed your forehead and held your hand. You seemed borderline allergic to walking without you arm linked through his. All of there’s things that Hobie said were couple things, he’d already nailed. So why couldn’t you just.. date each other?

“I don’t know, it’s not like that.”

“But it is,” Hobie pointed to the centre of Mile’s’ forehead and flicked. “You guys are quite literally already dating.” “No, not really?”

“Oh my god you’re clueless.”

Hobie sighed, jumping off the bed and stretching his arms above his head. Miles grumbling a pouted ‘am not..’, Hobie settled him a look, taking a deep breath and continuing.

“Miles, mate, You both go to each other for comfort. You cry to each other, you find solace in one another. You touch and cuddle and sleep in the same bed.” He took another breath, seemingly needing a lot, “The only things you’re missing, are kissing each other for real. And calling each other your partners.”

“And if they end up saying no?”

“Then i’ll smash my guitar.”

Miles paused, considering the severity.

“Okay, okay i’ll do it.”

“Thank fuck.”—

—

+one

Miles had spent the better of an entire afternoon hyping himself up (and subsequently psyching himself out), before he finally had managed to make it your door and knock.

He was beyond nervous, the jitters in his bones crawling under his skin like spiders. Worse than normal, he observed.

A shuffle from inside your apartment had brought him back down to Earth. Everything suddenly becoming very real to him as you opened the door grumpily.

“Oh i’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“Oh, Miles!” Your pout had almost instantly been lifted, a smile grazing your face sleepily, it was so late, he shouldn’t have come.

“I’m so sorry- It’s late. I should—“

“No!”

“No?”

It was your turn to get bashful, twisting the hem of your shirt in your hands nervously. “Stay Miles.”

He softened, posture relaxing at your tone.

“Don’t want you running away again.”

That caught his attention. “Wha-“ “I was wondering when you’d finally show up outta’ the blue.” You glanced down to his lips then back. The amber in his eyes haunting your dreams, in such a welcomed way.

Miles couldn’t take it, with the way you spoke, so soft and fragile. To the things you were saying, confident and headstrong. He couldn’t fucking take it.

His hands shot up to your face, caressing the curves of your cheeks and slope of your jaw. The trails of hair behind your ears his fingers just grazed. He brought himself down to your height once more, standing on your porch step. Like some sappy rom-com.

“Tell me to stop.” He was near breathless. You didn’t, you didn’t say a thing. You simply carded your deft hands over thick curls, and pulled him down to meet you. His eyes fluttered closed and lips met yours. He felt like crying.

Like after the months of pining for you. For trying and trying for your love, for your affection, that everything in his life had only ever led to this one point. And everything farther was his happy ending. The spiders under his skin stopped crawling, settling into the crooks of his bones and finding home. He wasn’t shaking. He was still.

And as you pulled away to breathe, ogling up at him with nothing but love to give he smiled and laughed just like you did.

ITS FUCKING 3 AM I GENUINELY HAVENT SLEPT THIS IS SO CUTE

(he is ⬇️)

#miles morales x reader #miles x reader #miles morales x you #spiderverse x reader #miles morales #hobie brown #miles 1610 #2 + 1 things

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kedsandtubesocks · 4 months

Text

give you something to dream about

joel miller x f!reader

summary: It’s game night at the bar and you stumble upon the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak AU, Joel has both of his daughters, ‘strangers at a bar and maybe something more’ scenario with eventual husband!Joel, mentions of drinking, spicy making out session, Joel gets a bit handsy, gendered language / reader is addressed as “baby” & “darlin” light football discussions and terminology, lovesick and possessive!Joel

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my love letter to Joel, his love for football and maybe my own love for Texas football as well lol. To have this as my first fic of the new year and for it being for Joel means so much. To come back and write for the Pedro fandom is special and means so much. Big thank you to my babe @ahauntedcowboy for letting me scream my sports girl head off about this, and for @lowlights for giving me guidance when I needed it. And lastly - thank you for reading, you are what truly makes this so incredibly special and wonderful

A mixture of bright neon and low soft white lights bathe the bar in a cozy ambient glow. The music is barely audible, a sort of after thought. Instead commotion and the ramble of sports announcers fills the room.

You manage to squeeze through the sea of onlookers dressed in burnt orange. Maria thankfully stays close to you. Now at the bar counter relief floods you as you lean against it.

“Order me a beer, I’m gonna find our table.” Maria yells over the liveliness swirling around.

You give her a thumbs up and thankfully don’t have to wait for the bartender long.

“Like your shirt!”

The bartender’s voice catches you instantly. Bright and direct you blink towards him. He’s cute, young, maybe a grad student from UT Austin who works here.

You can’t help but glance down at what you’re wearing.

Even under your jacket the shirt is comfortably a bit larger on you. The main focus is the old cartoon type logo of Bevo, the Texas Longhorn's mascot. The burnt orange coloring is faded adding to its weathered look.

A warmth flutters through you from just seeing it.

“It’s vintage, cool as hell.” The bartender continues admiring.

“Thanks. Uh, a friend of mine gave it to me.” Thankfully the bartender nods understandingly and doesn’t press the topic more. Instead he soon asks what you’ll be having.

You order Maria’s beer and a drink for yourself.

“So, you a big Texas fan? Well okay, I mean…you gotta be if you’re here.” The bartender, grabbing a drink glass, starts up another conversation with you as his tone becomes playful.

“A lot of people I know and love are. So by default I am too.” You admit with a sleepy grin.

“Aw,” his face melts. “Now that’s sweet. Well glad to have you here cheering for Texas.”

The bartender now even winks at you. You politely laugh but then, the bar erupts silencing the conversation.

Excited yells come so loud you jump out of your skin. Quickly you turn around to view the many tvs and projectors showing the game.

From what you can tell the Texas defense managed to take down the quarterback. You even watch the replay to see what the fuss is about. It was a good tackle and the play kept the other team’s quarterback from even advancing.

The game has you memorized now. You watch as the burnt orange and white uniforms of the players scramble like chaotic ants now trying to rush after the ball was kicked, no, punted to them.

Your lips twitch. You never would’ve thought you knew this much football terminology or could at least follow the game. Yet here you are.

The bartender clears his throat and embarrassingly fast you turn back around.

Not two but three drinks sit before you on the bar counter.

One happens to be a surprise shot that makes your eyes go wide.

“Uh, so the guy at the end of the bar sent it your way.” The bartender explains lowly, trying to be discreet about it.

Your eyes instead whip up to search for the mystery man. Then your heart sprouts wings when you discover him.

Leaning against the bar rail at the very opposed end of where you are, the man seems like something out of a romance novel’s dream.

Ruggedly handsome, his distinguished aged face and striking nose glow against the mixture of neon and dim lighting. It highlights the grays in his beard and gorgeous dark hair. His chocolate eyes bore into you as if you’re the only one in this bar.

His attention on you alone has your knees weak and you wonder maybe you suddenly turned into jello.

Your mystery man lifts his beer up to you, a silent ‘cheers’ and then takes a sip.

Just watching him take a swig of his beer has you dizzy. So you readily snatch up the shot, toast it back to him and down it.

The alcohol burns, but you’re surprised it’s your favorite liquor of choice. You can’t help but cough up wildly and the bartender snickers at your reaction. It’s been too long since you’ve had a shot and you’re thankful to chase the stinging sensation down with your mixed drink.

“Hey!” Maria’s voice calls out and her bright smile greets you as she slides through the packed crowd.

“Hope you didn’t think I forgot about you.” She laughs warmly. She grabs her beer and slides a tip to the bartender.

But then her eyes notice the empty glass.

“Oh? You took a shot without me?” She teases.

You tell her someone bought it for you and her eyebrows fly up fast in eager surprise.

“Oh?” Even her tone is warmly excited. “You get a good look at who your mystery shot buyer is?”

You turn your attention towards the end of the bar, right where he should be. Except your mystery man has vanished.

A bit of disappointment trickles in.

“I did, but guess he took off.” You tell Maria a bit low.

“Well, his loss then. Come on! Let’s head back to our table-”

“S’cuse me…”

A smooth deep and accented drawl, direct and firm enough cuts through the commotion politely cutting in on Maria.

Just as fast, there’s suddenly a deep warmth behind your back. The presence is broad, warm, and smells of the beautiful hint of a sandalwood cologne.

“If you don’t mind, I think I might steal this pretty gem for myself.” The accent seems thicker now and melts off his voice like sin.

He’s talking about you.

Maria smiles wildly entertained while her eyes flicker between you and your mystery man.

Silently you stare back and with pleading eyes you mentally communicate that yes you want to stay, yes it’s okay for her to head back.

“Alrighty then, see you two later.” She says grabbing her beer and gives you one last amused look before heading back to the table.

Your heart races so loud in your ears you don’t even notice the upset yells at a bad call given by the refs.

“…Howdy…”

The voice purrs, absolutely dances against the noise of the bar and beckons to you, your personal siren’s song.

Turning around the shadow of the mystery man falls over you. He stares down with those obsidian pool eyes as his lips turn into a boyish grin.

“I’m Joel. S’nice to meet you.”

You think about all the songs that sing about Texas beauty and how they all must have actually been speaking of this man.

Joel extends his hand out to you and the simple pure southern gentleman introduction has excitement bubbling in you like you’re a champagne bottle about to pop.

Your lips fight back a disbelieved smile as you introduce yourself and shake his hand.

It’s larger than yours, warm and beautifully callous that speaks of hard work. Joel leans closer to you and you can’t help but slide more towards him as well.

“I like your shirt.” His fingers playfully tugs at the bottom edge of your shirt.

“Thanks,” you take a sip of your drink to gain more courage. “A friend of mine let me wear it.”

Joel laughs. It’s warm, touches his face and sounds like it settles in his chest.

“A friend huh?” His voice grows even more amused.

You simply hum a nod as you take another sip of your drink. Your body hums with so many wonderful emotions like a jenga tower trying to hold onto its form on a moving table.

“That friend of yours a boyfriend?” Joel asks, a dark drawl sticky as molasses and trapping you to him.

You can’t help but shake your head no. The taste of your drink momentarily settles you.

“Pretty thing like you single? Ain’t that a shame.” Joel comments with a low rumble and all the ease you had gathered floats away.

Your eyes flicker back to Joel. But your focus goes between his stunning eyes and his lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes gloss over, become hooded with a hazy desire. How much it intensifies his gorgeous features makes your stomach flutter.

The game must have quieted down or maybe you’re just this focused on this man.

He moves to whisper in your ear.

“So…Wanna find a nice quiet spot to chat? Get to know each other better?” His lips softly graze your ear and an electric current runs up your spine.

“Yeah.” You mutter back now tipsy off Joel’s presence.

The moment you agree, Joel’s hand slips towards your waist and draws you to his side. He quickly slams down plenty of bills on the counter to cover for the drinks and tip. Your poor drink and his are forgotten.

Now Joel shifts into a man focused.

Squaring up his shoulders, he stands taller as he takes the lead. His broad shoulders become a guiding force, keeping you close to him. His hand intertwines with yours while he navigates you among the crowds.

His larger hand suddenly squeezes yours, a reassuring pressure that draws you closer to him. Moving through the tables against the crowds, you arrive at the outdoor patio where the early night air clears your mind.

Joel continues guiding you to a smaller area where the bathrooms are outside by the patio. You stand before the family restroom that holds the sweet title of “cowpokes” on it. Opening the door, Joel leads you inside. You take in the slightly larger yet still small rustic bathroom that glows under the murky amber light.

The door locks behind you and you turn around to find Joel staring you down with hunger brewing in his smokey eyes.

That’s all you can focus on before you get caught up in a dizzying whirlwind.

Hastily Joel rushes forward to pin you against the wall. His body firm and large presses so deliciously against you. Before your eyes can even soak in the close sight of him, he sweeps in and kiss you with a ravenous fierceness that steals your breath.

He quickly consumes you.

Joel faintly tastes of beer and something intoxicatingly uniquely him. While his hand moves to hold your face, his tongue licks into your mouth, diving in, almost trying to get drunk off you. You can’t help but draw him closer to you as much as you can. You want your nails to dig into him the same way he’s burning under your skin and seeping into your core

His hips begin to grind against you with an eased pace and you moan into his mouth. You want more, need more.

“Oh baby.” Joel groans out and sounds like sticky delicious sin.

Suddenly the loudest cheers leak into the bathroom.

So fierce in their excitement it echos into the room and freezes you and Joel immediately.

He sighs against your lips.

“We must‘ve scored.” Joel mutters.

“Are you upset you didn’t see it?” You ask gently and kiss his lips soft as the heat begins to settle.

“Nah. I’m aimin’ to score here myself.” He grins and the line has you laughing. Your face goes to rest against his as you continue to snicker. The prickle of his beard gently scratching against your skin feels wonderful.

“Darlin’ you’re killin’ me. I wanted to sound slick.” Joel sighs again, sounding deflated now.

“You did...sort of.” You smile.

“Forgive me,” He smirks and turns to press another soft kiss against your lips. “Been outta practice for a while.”

“You aren’t too bad, cowboy. You managed to get me in here.” You hum amused while your fingers run against his jaw, through his scruffy wonderful beard.

Joel chuckles and it dances within his chest, resonating through him.

“You’re the only one I want in here.” He mutters.

You and him share a few more soft slow eased kisses that are rushed, almost shy now.

With one last kiss, a deeply melting one that now makes you ache to keep him here, Joel pulls away. You hold yourself back from pouting.

But, you’re now rewarded with the sight of Joel fully before you. The dim amber light paints him like something pulled from a sunset dream, an aged handsome man so sweet with his furrowed concentrated eyes.

You watch Joel pat around his jean pockets and suddenly your eyes go wide.

“Joel Miller if you lost them-”

“Calm down!” He huffs cutting you off while he rapidly digs into his deep jeans pocket. He yanks something out in his grasp.

He smoothly slides closer back to you and holds out his palm where two wedding rings sit waiting.

His and yours.

Your heart melts out of your chest seeing them and your ring finger itches for its missing piece. You grab Joel’s ring, leaving him yours and move to slide his back onto his hand.

In the same manner, Joel slides your wedding band back onto its rightful place. The memory of when you did this at your actual wedding faintly flutters in and settles warm in your heart’s chamber.

Joel draws your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles.

This man, your husband - you yank him towards you again to kiss him.

It’s a kiss that’s like coming home, of sweetness and cultivated bliss reuniting together again.

“Wanna see that bartender try flirtin’ with ya now with that ring on your finger.” Your grumpy husband grumbles adorably.

You bark a laugh. “Oh please, he was being nice for the tip and you know it.”

“Uh huh.” Joel dryly huffs as he stares at you unamused.

“Hey he was nice. He even liked my shirt.” You reply back.

“My shirt.” Joel clarifies strongly. “That’s my shirt.”

You roll your eyes playful.

He is right though. The shirt is his. Your husband is a superstitious football fan. And ever since you wore his shirt and Texas won, Joel used his beautiful brown eyes as weapons to get you to wear his shirt every game since then.

“Come on, curious to see what the score is.” With one last sweet kiss, Joel leads you back out into the evening air.

Hand in hand with him, you find your way to Tommy and Maria. Both of them brighten up at the sight of you and Joel.

“Hey! Look at that! You’re a married man again!” Tommy cries happily and you laugh. Joel, after sliding your chair in for you, rolls his eyes now while you and Maria snicker to each other.

“Bet it was fun while it lasted.” Maria grins.

“Eh.” You shrug but the truth tugs at your lips amused.

A few nights ago, when you and Joel had come up with this idea of going to the bar without the rings, pretending to not know each other, you worried for a split moment that you’d enjoy the freedom.

You worried you would realize how much you missed and enjoyed the playful banter, the flirting and pull that comes with being single. But instead you simply found your way back to Joel.

The excitement of seeing him, of having that same sensation rush through you like it did when you first met him, was nostalgically addictive for a moment.

However, you instead soak in the comfort of sitting beside Joel because it feels like coming home. While being single for another moment again was fun, you want to find Joel in every lifetime, find him as your husband in every universe.

The bar suddenly breaks into wild excitement. Joel as well cheers so loud. You turn to the game and find Texas intercepted a pass.

Now you go to check your phone and find both your daughters thankfully are doing fine. Sarah even sent you a photo text of her and Ellie at the classmate’s birthday party they’re both at. There’s a lightness that settles into your bones seeing them and having their father, your husband, beside you.

Joel and Tommy, as if they’re ESPN announcers in deep analysis, dive back into how Texas needs to sharpen up their offensive line. It’s adorable. It makes you fall in love even more with him.

Maria goes to ask Tommy something about the game and Joel leans towards you.

“You happy to be married again?” His voice drops soft and low. You catch the hint of true curiosity and almost hesitation residing under his tone.

“Of course. It’s my luckiest day all over again.” You truthfully tell him with a warm grin.

“Yeah?” He mutters tenderly as his eyes flicker to your lips again. “Make sure you share some of that luck with the team alright?”

You playfully nudge his arm and Joel smirks. You love him like this, light and teasing.

Joel drops a kiss to the side of your head.

“Don’t worry baby, this is my lucky day too. Goin’ home with the most gorgeous person here and I’m married to her.”

You could say the same thing. You’re leaving with the most handsome man and knowing you’re married to him? You feel honored, proud, and grateful.

Even when he starts yelling at the quarterback as if the poor guy can hear him.

“I could throw a better pass than that!” He argues upset.

You’re not as big of a fan as Joel, but Texas holds a place in your heart forever. It intertwined you and him in its own unique way.

Back when you were dating Joel patiently explained the game, so gently spoke to you without any judgment when you asked questions you were sure would make any other seasoned fan mock you or get annoyed. But not your Joel.

The first big moment you met Ellie and Sarah it was over at his place during a Texas game.

You experienced how wildly invested Ellie got, just like Joel, and how amused Sarah got seeing her dad and sister scream at the tv. From that point - all the days, the games, laughs and moments cultivated into a path that has led you to this moment, to this bar.

And now, here you are.

You love Joel’s love for the game, for the sport. You love how it’s connected you to him.

“Honey, you okay?” The voice of your husband pulls you from your thoughts, like a call home.

You turn to find Joel intently looking at you, your sweetheart provider. You can’t help but grin and nod.

“Yup, just thinking about the handsome stranger I met earlier. Hope he asks for my number.” You tell him.

Joel breaks into a chuckle that touches his earth eyes.

“Between you and me, he’d be a fool if he didn’t.” His hand now slides to yours, his thumb even begins to twist and fiddle with your wedding ring, a sweet habit of his.

You snort amused at how effortlessly he can play along with you.

Before you can tease him again or even wander back into your thoughts, the crowd roars to life with shouts. All eyes including yours snap to the game.

Texas just intercepted the ball and the play breathes life into the bar, into your husband who claps loud and proud.

It’s a great energy to see the end of the second quarter and the start of the halftime.

Suddenly, Joel’s hand begins softly trailing against your thigh. Warm and almost eased, the slow movement ignites a blooming desire in your chest.

Joel easily laughs with Tommy about the game. His eyes stay on his brother. Yet Joel’s hand slides now confidently deeper into the inside of your thigh. Your throat tightens and heat now begins to soak between your thighs, almost daring him to touch you.

Then a collection of happy cheers burst in the bar and steals all the attention.

All the tables nearby including yours turn to find a group of ladies. One of them currently grabs the cowboy hat off a taller man who grins so warmly down at her. She laughs loudly after doing what had to have been a wild shot.

The guy orders her, and her friends, another round causing them to squeal loud and excited again. Maria leans back to talk to Tommy and so you too lean closer to your own husband.

“Maybe I should pretend to be single again.” You tell Joel. “To see if I’ll get free shots and attention like that.”

Not that you’d want any of that. You just enjoy teasing your sweet grumpy husband from time to time.

“Nope.” Joel says with an unwavering sharpness. “You ain’t going anywhere without that ring Mrs. Miller.”

His words are rather light, almost playful, but you catch the underlying possessive simmering. It ignites an even stronger warmth beneath your skin.

“And who says you don’t get free shots? I’ll buy you as many as ya want.” Joel adds and his clipped almost ruffled voice has you laughing.

But as you settle, your thoughts wander. The smell of Joel so close, the mixture of his faint cologne and the detergent you use to wash his clothes, brings back the sensation of having that smell surround you when you were in the restroom with him.

It makes you ache.

Your hand now softly wanders to rub his warm broad chest. A low rumble comes from him, an awareness of your presence as you drape against him now. Maria and Tommy thankfully have begun to make fast friends with the couple sitting beside your table.

Your face leans to rest against Joel’s and the slick honey like desire you felt earlier creeps over you once more. It urges you to be bold.

“Wanna go mess around before halftime is over?” You offer soft and low, only for his ears.

Joel peers over to you, his eyes now smoldering coals.

“You wanna?” He mutters back.

Your answer comes as a soft kiss you place against his cheek. However, your hand now begins to slide up his thigh just like he did to you earlier.

Joel loudly clears his throat and sits up fast which untangles you from him. Immediately he yanks out his wallet to slam his card on the table.

Tommy and Maria now blink back at the sudden action.

“Order anything y'all want. We gotta grab somethin’ from the truck.” Joel lies effortlessly.

But Maria knows as she grins knowingly while embarrassment instead rises in you.

And apparently her husband isn’t as easily fooled either.

“Yeah yeah! Get outta here ya horn dogs!”

Joel barks a sharp ‘hey!’ at his younger brother’s crudeness while you can only laugh against him. Tommy simply makes obnoxious kissy faces while Maria snickers besides him. Unable to endure anymore teasing Joel playfully calls Tommy a piece of shit and with that you wave a quick and thankful to Tommy and Maria.

Joel once again leads the way to the entrance.

The two of you now stay stuck together closer than earlier. An almost giddy frenzy now keeps you both hyper aware of the other. His hands keep you so firmly close to him.

The giddiness you had earlier while pretending to be single with Joel is nothing compared to this. This feeling swirling in you comes from knowing you get to sneak away with your husband. It has you floating, only tied to this world by Joel keeping you steady and protected.

Around you, small chatter about the game hangs in the air.

Texas might not win. But as you slide closer to Joel, a unique shade of triumph washes over you.

Your good man, your wonderful husband.

He is your victory and champion.

Your victory lap and your welcome home party all at once.

And when he kisses you wildly against the side of his truck…you think he might also be your sneaky devilish opponent as his hand already starts to slip under your, no his shirt.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#I blame my heartbreak over Texas and Pedro losing but it’s okay cause I got inspired LOL #thank you to anyone who reads this I love you #Joel 🤎#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader

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astralis-ortus · 4 days

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weighted blankets and projector

✱ a bang chan headcanon

— as long as you're happy, then chan is happy too.

w.count → 0.6k genre → fluff. very soft fluff. warning → none! a.n → originally wanted this to be a single post with streetlights and warm nights, but the fluff would be out of control (and i got too delirious to actually continue writing lol) sooo here's the second part!

although chan loves adventures, he also doesn’t mind spending your date nights inside.

foods and games would be the most important factor chan takes into consideration. your pool of dinner choices might be a little more limited when you’re bound to a certain location, but that’s what his little games are for.

you’re feeling like having some fried chicken? of course he’ll get them for you, but make sure you win the rounds of truth or dare or you might not be able to get even a single bite of those golden goodness (who are you kidding—he’ll definitely cave once you put on your puppy eyes, just like how seungmin taught you). hot pot night? no worries, his uno cards will help you two determine whether your dinner of the night follows his mild tastebuds or your daring ones. chan will get your every dinner requests, and put a fun twist on them just to see your smile.

when all the food is gone, chan would then pull out the weighted blanket he bought and kept especially for your date nights, all under the pretense of ‘i heard it’s good for you’ (when in actuality, he just needed wanted a tiny extra help in keeping you glued to his side).

what you’ll be doing from then on is a free arena—there are days where you’d just talk for hours on end, laughing at whatever silly things each other would say. on other days, you’d spin a wheel and let fate choose which of your all time favorite movies will you be rewatching that night (which, oddly enough, mostly fell to either the deadpool series or a few ghibli movies). there are also days where both of you decided to just melt next to each other while doing your own thing—chan with his laptop, while you, on the other hand, finishes the book you’ve been dying to read all throughout the week.

just as you’re about to feel drowsy after all fully digesting your dinner, chan would then draw a warm bath for you to relax in, bath bombs and all. he’d always tell you to take your time when you’re having your bath; he needed the extra time to pick out your set of matching pajamas set (yes, he wears one too), as well as setting up the candles and the new galaxy light projector he just bought a couple days ago. you once told him it looked pretty, and being the good boyfriend and devoted astrophile he is, of course he remembered it.

if your bath was chan’s way of taking care of you, then you doing his skin and hair care routine is your way of taking care of chan. you always treasure every opportunities you have to be so up close with him, taking note of his features while he’s surrendered under your gentle touch. you’d note every single speck of his freckles, every stray curls on his forehead, every faint smile lines he had etched over the years on the surface of his skin, which only grew in definition after he met you.

and you fall in love again.

maybe a little bit harder,

maybe a lot deeper.

now all warm and cuddled up under the layer of comfy duvet, you finally snuggled close to chan, allowing his body heat to entirely encapsulate you. the echo of his heartbeat is loud and clear, turning you all blush and giggly while sleep gently knocks on your eyelids. chan would say a couple things—noting how nice your new shampoo smelled, or how soft the layer of pajama is over your skin, but when he noticed your absence of reply, his smile would soften as he watches your sleeping face. chan would place a kiss on your forehead and held you tighter, wishing that even in his dream, the only person he would see is you.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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hollyhomburg · 10 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt. 56)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: In the wake of Namjoon’s rut you and Hobi try to get yourself back on even footing, if only his co workers weren’t so...creepy towards you.

Tags: Depression, anxiety, ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, excessive babying, courting, omegaspace, mommy kink, Mommy! Tae, nipple play, m/c sucks on tae’s tits for mental health reasons, Non-detailed sexual content, mentioned omegaspace sex, discussions of past abuse, discussions of mental health issues, eating disorder recovery, implied self-harm

W/c: 9.7k

A/N: LISTEN, i know the nipple play stuff might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it reads very comforting if you’re willing to give it a chance. That being said it may go further into the realm of mommy kink than some of you are willing to go and toes the line into extreme kink as it highly sexualizes Tae’s brests and the m/c in omegaspace. It's not really nursing per say cuz there isn’t any milk involved, but the m/c does suck on tae’s breasts to soothe herself.

I tried to make it as ‘skippable’ as possible it’s under the section ‘Tae, sometime at night’ I firmly encourage you to skip it if you feel the need too.

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

(16 days post rut. The day after Halloween, Yoongi)

Yoongi lets out an inhuman screech.

He’s holding his sweater in his hands, nude from the waist up interrupted by his changing. Staring at you open-mouthed while Jungkook rolls in the remnants of your nest. Remnants- because you honestly hadn't put it together much after Namjoon's rut.

You’ve been spending the last few weeks slowly bringing everything upstairs, alternating between sleeping spots, not a single one of them still feels right. The pack had kept their mattress in the living room, but yours they'd moved back. Last night you spent your first night upstairs with Jimin, Jungkook, and Tae. Four pups all cute and nesty with the rest of the Halloween candy between the three of you in multicolored bowls.

Yoongi had gotten to watch as you all giggled and completely abused the projector he’d installed for a movie night of the Addams family and some horror movie that you'd changed in the first 15 minutes.

There are more and more moments where he gets to appreciate his hard work these days and he savors them whenever he can. He’d been a little worried that the bed would be too big or too small but it looks just the right size. Just enough space for the others.

After you’d fallen asleep, he’d carefully tiptoed around you and removed the bowls of candy, kissing each of your heads like a special spell to guard your dreams against monsters and cousin it.

Now Jungkook grins up from the last little bit of the nest that’s still down here, hugging a pillow to his chest, “I knew something happened.” It’s not often Yoongi squeaks, like a cat suddenly picked up, heart all in a tizzy just thinking about it.

“What do you mean you and Hobi kissed? And you didn’t tell me!?”

You go red ear to ear, “It wasn’t-I don’t even think he meant to do it- it wasn’t like a kiss kiss-“

“Ahh,” Jungkook drags out the syllable. Reaching for your hand and tugging you to sit. Closer, because Jungkook’s wandering fingers have half a mind of their own. You look so good- have been honestly glowing a bit since Namjoon’s rut, something about the health of you that makes him want to touch more and more.

His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs appreciatively and you squirm away, “Heat of-the-moment kisses are so hot- not to mention first kisses.”

Yoongi sits on the edge of the bed. Knees pulled together. “Tell me everything.”

Yoongi has always been terribly involved in your dating life in the beginning you'd gushed to him about every new kiss. The ones with Jk, a memory now as he drags his mouth up your waist, resting his cheek against the curve of your hips and smiling up at you. The one with Tae in that dressing room, your first soft moments with Jin and Namjoon. Everything. The fact that he hadn't heard about this one immediately after the fact stings only a little,

The rest is clouded over with excitement.

Hobi had initiated kisses. He’d been the one to break first.

Yoongi remembers how their relationship began with coyly phrased jabs said over dusty records not long after he'd broken up with his last pack and moved in. When they’d gone from best friends to sort of roommates and started spending almost every minute together.

Yoongi liked Hoseok. Just liked him. Liked seeing him smile. Heart skipping beats and saving them for him. Spending hours standing just far enough apart with some sleazy jazz playing over the loudspeakers and Hobi’s lips all mischievous. Their first kiss hanging there, on the edge, just where Yoongi could see it but not have it just yet. Teasing him endlessly.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were flirting with me Hoseok,"

"You'll know when I'm flirting hyung."

Hobi had turned off the jazz and turned on Yoongi’s favorite music instead and Yoongi had been substantially wooed just by that.

Hobi had been shy with the rest of the pack. Freer with Yoongi he said, because he always knew where he stood with him. Not like with the other alphas where Hobi had to worry about showing his throat or not- or Jungkook and Jin- where he had to worry if he has too dominant or not dominant enough. Their firsts had felt truly new, untied of expectations. Just loving. None of the other stuff.

Sometimes, Hobi still feels this way.

Now Yoongi watches you and knows how it feels, the way your eyelashes flutter as you look down and away, flopping back against the nest scent going sweet with the memory of it. "I bet it was so hot-" Koo chimes kicking his feet when he rolls onto his tummy and continues to pinch at your thighs, hand sliding up gradually under your baggy pajama shorts. Tickling the hairs there.

"Hobi’s such a good kisser too-“ The omega swoons and your belly swoops at the sound.

Yoongi licks his lips, trying not to think of it.

"It wasn't hot, it wasn't anything-" But the blush on your cheeks tells a different story. You groan, hiding your face in your hands. "I shouldn't have said anything." Yoongi gently pries your hands away from your face. His heart is racing a mile a minute like it's his first kiss and not yours.

"Even if it was something, I’d still be happy sweetheart.”

You bite your cheek; I just want to know if he regrets it. “I can’t ask him about it or I’ll make it weird.” You whine.

Jungkook’s fingers press into your chin, he looks awfully devilish, hair damp from a shower, his classes for the day passed. “You’ve been thinking about it a lot. That’s why you’ve been so quiet.”

You flush, but not for the reason he thinks.

The truth is you’ve been spending a lot more time on your own these days, painting the back-room space and finding excuses to head upstairs when everyone’s home, or downstairs when everyone goes up. There’s no reason. You tell yourself there’s no reason but-

Sometimes it’s hard, being sad without a cause. A gnawing emptiness like there's no point in enjoying anything anyways when sooner or later the rug will be yanked out from underneath you. A sense of a foreshortened future. An end that is simultaneously ridiculous to consider and yet nearby like a shadow in the corner of your eye that isn't there- not really.

Maybe it would be easier if you and Yoongi weren’t mated yet, and you’d have had that to look forward to. You’ve been thinking about mating marks a lot recently. Spending long hours looking at yours in the mirror, fingers hovering over the glass when you pull back blocking out parts of it with your fingertips. The parts that Geumjae left that you’ll never be able to quite get rid of.

You asked Jin about his and Namjoon’s the other day- but the omega had only sighed and told you not to worry about it.

You eagerly snap up the excuse handed to you now. It's better having them assume than explaining the real reason to them. For the most part, they believe you. Like there isn’t that taught line of something running through you like the very essence of you wants to snap. A discomfort at being happy.

A feeling like maybe, you don't deserve it.

If there is anything you deserve it’s certainly not Hobi’s smile when he comes home and asks you if you’ll help him move a few more plants in from outside. “You’ve got a good eye” he tells you. “I swear without you and Tae this place would look like a bachelor pad”

Hobi hasn’t been avoiding you since the rut but maybe it would be easier if he was.

He’s no less likely to ask you for late-night car rides, no less likely to bump shoulders with you playfully over dishes or offer you his headphone when he found you dozing two nights ago on the outdoor furniture. Your big blue blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders to keep out the fall chill.

He’d even accepted you when you held back the edge for him to get under. The warmth from his body trapped by it and transferred to yours as you talked. Mostly about Hobi’s job; his plans to leave early and help manage a specialty order from the city; nearly three thousand burgundy roses for a fall wedding.

“How do you even fit that many into a car?”

“Very, very carefully”

Last night as the pack had handed out Halloween candy, He’d been giggly and close. Eager to pick your favorite candy out of the bowl of bulk-bought candy bars and set them aside for you. He’d even given you a pair of little devil ears, similar to the halo on Tae’s head, a vision in a light pink dress that she’d been just itching to wear. The only one truly dressed up, the only one with the energy to go all out.

The fabric was soft and silky with cutouts for her body, which had you looping your hands around her waist at every available opportunity and maybe kissing places hidden when you’d helped her undress later, hands sneaking underneath the fabric just to touch.

No one had time to plan their outfits or decorate the house because of Namjoon’s rut. You improvised with eyeliner lined and drawn whiskers on Yoongi’s cheeks, grumbling half-heartedly as Tae dotted his nose with bright pink blush and attached a pair of cat ears to his head.

The one person who hadn’t escaped Hobi’s costumes was Noddle, hissy in his little black and yellow bee costume, you’d given him tuna as a special treat. The neighborhood kids had ooohd and ahhed at him in the window, grumpily guarding your house from any intruders.

It’s funny, noodle only hisses at the people dressed up as other cats.

Independent from your musings, your packmates hover on the edge of the bed. “who says you can’t ask him? Just talk to him-“ Yoongi tries to convince you.

"We can ask him for you!" Both of them pop up, their eyes all wide, matching black heads all fuzzy, your mate bobs his head, the picture of polite eagerness.

"Oh fuck no- You'll do no such thing-"

“Come on, let us play matchmaker with you."

A loud ring interrupts your conversation, coming from deep within the confines of your nest. It’s Yoongi's phone- discarded. Jungkook grins as he answers for him, smirking all the while.

"Hyung! We were just talking about you- No it's fine, Joonie forgot his lunch too-" Jungkook playfully shoves away Yoongi’s hand reaching for his phone. He pauses as Hobi says something on the other line.

Jungkook’s grin is nothing if not scheming.

"Yoongi's busy right now," he licks his lips, eyes on you. Yoongi is certainly not busy, the only thing he had planned for today was bringing Namjoon his lunch, another stop is hardly too much.

"But Y/n's free, I’ll have her drop it off. Bye, hyung. Love you too hyung."

~-~

Hobi is drawn to the front room of the flower shop because it’s his break time, someone forgot the last box of roses out back, and also because one of his coworkers is shouting again.

It's a semi-normal occurrence by any standard of measurement, but still, the sound of his shrill voice shouting in protest is just as grating as the feeling of dirt under Hobi’s fingernails.

They're sensitive and pricked too, he's spent the better part of the morning prepping the red roses, bundles, and bundles of them. The last one

He pauses, ignoring the commotion for as long as he can to take a sip of water, The cold drips down his throat, soothing the heat there. It might be cold at night but the lot out back is still unforgiving in the autumn sunlight, the occasional breeze telling stories of knit blankets and cozy sweatpants that Hobi will need within the month. He can’t wait for it to get colder.

The flower shop is structured in layers. The breakroom with the cubbies, a dilapidated old fridge, and a small table directly off the lot. A narrow hallway connects it first to the stock room and then to the counter and the retail space out front. The commotion comes from the stock room. The sound of a box falling over with a loud clang and then the softer sound of people arguing in hushed tones.

Three of his coworkers- two of which are the same ones who don't like him- shove each other to get through the door. One holding around the other middle.

"No, I've got this one-" Hobi stoops to pick up a roll of orange-red ribbon, half unrolled on the dusty floor.

"Come on- I took the granny for you this morning you owe me-"

"You're an omega, Felix."

"So? Like being a horndog is a uniquely alpha affliction?"

"Too late!" The third one darts through the door. Unencumbered by the other's scuffle. Tossing a kiss over his shoulder at the other two. Their frustrated groans resounding a hissed whisper. "Chan! You've already got an omega you don't need two-”

At his appearance, both of his coworkers straighten up. "What’s all the fuss about?" he asks with a tired sigh. Not that he really wants to make conversation with them about what client they're thirsting over this week. Hobi has never joined in with them, their near-running commentary on who comes into the shop.

“A pretty client.” It's nothing new, but what is new is the way that Hyunjin rolls his eyes and scoffs.

"Pretty is not a word reserved for the hottest omega I’ve seen this year- she looks like Kate Moss and Zendaya had a love child with an angel-" he swoons, Hobi sighs and pushes through them to put the ribbon back on its holder. They probably knocked it off in their scuffle, his two coworkers practically fall through the door after him.

Hobi blinks.

It's just you, standing in the doorway looking at the hanging epiphytes and other little suncatchers that hand in the flower shop windows. You’re wearing one of Tae's big sweaters that fall to your upper thigh and a pair of semi-translucent leggings. When your hands go up to touch a suncatcher Hobi can tell you’re wearing shorts underneath, but the implication that you might be not is still there. There’s A little bit of flour on your front from whatever you were baking today.

The first thing he notices is a band-aid on your finger.

His sleazy coworker lays it on thick, leaning over your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. You don’t seem to realize that he’s snuck up on you. Hobi watches as you flinch and step back, clutching a small pink package to your chest. Turning around quick.

Hobi swallows back a growl. Instincts grating.

"Can I help you find anything beautiful?” he drawls, casting you a dazzling grin that Hobi's sure has gotten him many first date.

"I was just-" Hobi drops a bouquet of roses into a nearby bucket with a loud thud. Your eyes shoot up, and Hobi sees the visceral way your shoulders relax, the way you instantly brighten.

"Hey! I got your lunch."

Hobi's coworkers splutter. Gazes darting between you and Hobi like they can’t make sense of it. “What?!" One of them hits him on the shoulder playfully like they're friends and Hobi's jaw ticks. "Yeah, Hobi what the fuck-"

Hobi's fingers are still on the roses as he looks at you, he doesn't tear his eyes away for a second, "She's my newest packmate," they've got a good sense to be embarrassed to try and recoup the situation.

“Oh- we didn't think Hobi could have such pretty packmates."

Oh, you don't like that one bit.

Your switch flips, Hobi sees you make the conscious decision to turn on the part of yourself that can be very charming, that makes his alpha ask ‘how high?’ if you even think about asking him to jump. You're very good at playing this game, encouraging their instincts out in just a few words.

You step closer looping your arm through Hobi's (He swears he won't be thinking about it later, how you push your body up against his just so, the faint warmth of your chest surrounding his upper arm, your fingers weakly tangling through his) You tilt your mating mark into the light so that they see it. tucking your hair behind your ear like you’re shy. your sleeve falls down, leaving your scent gland open to the bear air.

"You've obviously never met Jin then.” You pout up at him in mock distress, making it as cute as possible. “but- I would have thought he'd have told you all about me what with the car I gave him."

Hobi doesn’t believe your sudden sniffle for a second even though his face heats. And renewed incredulity hits their faces, near devastation that their written-off coworker has a packmate like this.

You blink back faux tears, “Did you not like it?” there is nothing cuter than a pretty pouty omega near crying because they think they've disappointed their alpha. Nothing that tugs on their instincts quite like this.

The men blink dumbly. This creature- is surely representative of another life, one that they hadn’t imagined for their coworker. Surely when they called Hobi a sugar baby, this isn’t what they had in mind.

"He talks about it so much!"

"I swear everyone slows down when they see it which is why the boss lets him park it out front."

"It's a really pretty car like really pretty," Felix says, eyes definitely not on your face but oh well.

Hobi grasps his little lunchbox hard, wrapped up in one of Tae's pink patterned silk scarves. Too intimidated to respond. You have them wrapped around your fingers in just a few words.

"Show me the flowers?" you offer, clearly done conversing with them, Hobi takes the easy out without a look in his coworkers’ direction.

The slick of the refrigerator doors slides close, blocking out the three of them clearly peering in. Your closeness is disguised by the condensation on the glass. Let them think something more of the way you stand close.

The mask falls in a second and where one moment you’d looked forcefully cute, the next, you just look tired.

"You're a menace."

You huff, wrapping your arms around your waist. "Only when I need to be"

"You didn't have to do that." He says because he doesn't know exactly what to say. How to express that he’s thankful without making it weird. Now that you've stepped away from the others there’s something vaguely wilted about you, something still. He’s noticed the last few days, since Namjoon’s rut if he’s being honest.

The truth is, nothing's been normal after Namjoon's rut.

The first day after Namjoon’s rut you’d avoided each other's company like the plague, fielding Namjoon’s numerous apologies and in general clingy behavior. But after a day or two you'd reached an unspoken agreement to just forget everything that had happened just like Jimin and Tae.

(That's a lie. Jimin and Tae have slept on opposite sides of every bed they've slept in in the last week.)

Hobi’s not sure why he thinks that there's something wrong, why he finds himself watching you and waiting. Measuring your plate at dinner for maybe the first time in weeks. Watching you when you cook, just…. keeping an eye on you in a way he might not have before.

Is it just him, or have you seemed less interested in cuddling and nesting as usual? There's something in you that just wants to get the nest in the upstairs over and done with and back to normal. Hobi had watched while he'd helped bring the countless blankets up there, every one of your movements rehearsed and perfunctory.

And yesterday, he’d walked into your room (your old room he should call it) And found you and Yoongi deep in conversation, sitting on the edge of your bed. And when Hobi had asked Yoongi had just said, “We’re gonna keep the nest in here for a few more days.” You'd ended up turning your bed around and tucking it into the wall by your dresser, making room for Tae's makeup desk.

At first, He thought that maybe he’d hurt you with his leaving. That you took it as an ultimate rejection of not only your friendship but your presence in the pack. But it seems like you’re as determined as he is to keep things as they were before. To act as though your relationship is just as it was. Just this. packmates that bring each other lunch and give each other cars and definitely step closer to make Hobi's nosey coworkers a little jealous.

Strange. All of it feels strange like deja vu. There’s a familiar stillness that he hasn’t seen in you in months really, not since late spring. Since before you started talking again only this time he's seeing the process in reverse.

You tap the lunch box with your fingertips, a faint flush coming to your cheeks, “Yoongi made it for you, not me.”

“Does it matter?” you flush harder, skin heating under his raised eyebrow,

“Yes.”

Hobi thinks your hands might be shaking a little bit when you gesture to the shelves piled high with flowers and buckets. "Which ones are your favorite anyway?" you ask, classic misdirection.

A few weeks ago Hobi had convinced his boss to order the flowers by color and not type to make arranging and picking out designs easier. Granted, Hobi is her most talented employee and the one she trusts most to handle their big-budget items like weddings and funerals so it was a relatively short argument.

This refrigerator is a mess of cream pinks, whites, and yellows. The big dinner plate-sized sunflowers hovering around your knees, and the dusty roses at the ceiling.

He points at the simple daisies, is it just his imagination, or do you make your giggle just a little bit louder, leaning into his arm. Hobi swears one of his coworkers is going to burst a blood vessel with how hard he's trying to contain his screech of indignation. You just grin and roll your eyes.

“Are you trying to make my life easier or harder?” He can’t stop his smile though, no matter how much he wants to.

“A bit of both probably.” You lean in close, the way an omega would to an alpha they were flirting with. Let them wonder what we’re saying, let them wonder what I mean by this. Your fingers dance over a nearby bucket, skimming the velvet soft blooms, “I would have pinned you for a Lily type of guy."

Hobi fingers one of the long stems, playing with it too. "Nah, these are Jungkook’s favorite, not mine." Hobi's shy when it comes to you, but still, he musters up the courage to take a spare bloom of daisy and tuck it behind your ear.

"As a thank you, for my lunch. Jungkook shouldn’t have made you come all the way here."

You shrug, "It’s no big deal. I- ugh- i put a few chocolates in there, the coconut ones." You might have noticed Hobi grabbing some last night, and he gravitated toward those in the big bowl of Halloween candy. Seeking out the little blue packages.

"I like those," he says, but you already know that.

There’s a loud crash, and when you look back Hobi’s coworkers have knocked one of the dysplays over in their quest for a better vantage point. they scramble to put it back together and look busy like they weren’t watching you.

Chan gives him a thumbs up and Hobi scoffs.

“I’m sorry for them.” He says, “They’re kind of always like this,” his jaw ticks. Some alphas have no manners.

You shrug, “It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Are those the same ones that say shit about you behind your back?”

“Yes.”

You hesitate for a moment, standing toe to toe with him. “We should give them something else to talk about then.” Hobi’s hands are hard on the lunch box.

You step closer. Your worn boots brushing his sneakers as you lean up on your tippy toes. The scent mark looks more intimate that it is as you lightly drag your cheek down Hobi's neck. You know how to make it look sensual.

His caramel scent and your baked one together smell like flan or maybe something vaguely that belongs in the family of a Snickers bar, sparking hot and heady. Filling the refrigerator with it and the smell of flowers. He catches your waist, alarmed but not entirely displeased.

It has the desired effect.

Hobi sees the other alphas, the way their egos deflate. Tail tucked between their legs. Immediately looking dejected. Hobi barely has time to process your hand threading through the hair at the back of his neck, the way you sway closer before you're darting away.

He catches you just before you pass back through the refrigerator doors (you should know better than to run from an alpha, there's hardly anything more exciting than the prospect of a chase). A real giggle fills the small space making the other 3 perk up. Hobi can’t stop himself from smiling even if he feels a little dizzy.

He catches your hand, tugging you a little bit back. “Hang out with me? Later?”

The stillness in you eases just a little, and your smile is twice as bright as the sunflowers. “Sure.”

He lets your hand go even though he doesn't want to, even though you could eat together. He imagines it; sitting in his car, Yoongi’s parked out front, you in his passenger seat having a few of those chocolates. But you have no reason to stay and keep him company through his lunch break.’

Hobi is too shy to ask.

Before you pass through the door you pause, looking at the suncatchers that hang by the windows again. Reaching out a finger to touch one so that rainbows swirl through the room. The sun's light misdirected to spill and swirl in a dizzying display of color. The door clangs closed with a faint jingle.

He sets his hand over the back of his hot neck. Heart thundering, something in his instincts relaxes by having you out the door and away from his other...competitors. They instantly descend on him, badgering him with countless questions.

“I didn’t know you could pull like that hyung," "How did you even meet?" does she have a sister?" "Does she have a favorite type of nesting supplies?”

Hobi shoots that last one a glare. "I think she's got everything she needs in that department." he says tightly.

He’d have thought your mating mark would be enough of a deterrent. The fact that it isn’t makes him even more annoyed if that's possible. They don’t get a single answer out of him- just the freezer door closed and locked in their faces. He sits there to eat his lunch, glaring at them through the foggy doors.

When he opens his lunchbox, he sees that you've shoved 7 chocolates into a space that should only logically fit 5. Rows of sliced meat and a dollop of sauce over rice in the shape of a heart. A sandwich just the way he likes it, cut-up fruit too, probably a whole pint of Strawberries cut into little hearts.

(The other alphas don't stand a chance.)

~-~

(Tae, Some time later)

Autumn brings with it lazy nights and the need for more blankets. You often find yourself curled up on the couch in Tae's room. Alternating between watching the autumn rain drip from the eves, going on tic-tock, napping, and watching Tae work at her desk. Sometimes on work nights, she's got her hair set into little pin curls, or a face mask on.

It's kind of silly that you can spend just hours watching her but you are that in love.

Her typing is gentle, a companion to the pitter-patter of the rain and the tv in the other room. Someone talking, someone showering, the faint thump thump thump of your heart, noodle meowing to be let in from outside, homey domestic and Awfully lonely.

It’s silly, you shouldn’t feel alone with Tae right there.

You stir sometimes, stretching your feet out and yawning. Cheek resting on the pillow. "I can shut the light if you want" Tae says, recognizing the feeling like she's being watched. She doesn’t turn because she knows it's you.

"No, I'm not tired" but the slow rising of your chest says something different. You've let the blanket slip off of you a little bit, folding your body onto her small couch fitting just barely. She rolls herself over to you to fix it and tuck it around your feet. Then goes back to writing.

"You've been typing one thing for a long time now”

Tae hums, agreeing. Pausing for a second and going back to delete one sentence and replacing it with another before her cursor moves on stepping in time with the clack of her fingers. She's gone with a shorter manicure this time to make typing easier, smooth little almonds that flash like fish scales. Pretty and pearlescent.

“You were writing the same thing yesterday and the day before that too. Is it a story?" you ask. Tae likes how you always ask that first, is it a story or a poem, by stanza or by prose. Which part of your soul are you working on today? is it more comfort or a bit of hurt?

Her fingers hesitate, "it is." She admits. “I’ve got like, maybe 30,000 words of it written already but yeah, it’s a story.”

“You don't write stories often."

she tips her head in agreement. "What could I add to the world you know? there are so many good books out there," she sighs heavily, "But-" she trails off, eyes full of faraway faces and a love that maybe feels a little bit like yours and Hobi’s. She always was better at catharizing her emotions about their relationships by comparing them to others. Namjoon and Jin are all Claire and Jamie. Yoongi and Hobi Westley and Buttercup.

But You and Hobi are something different. Maybe she took hobi's advice and found another outlet for her feelings about you two rather than get involved. then again, the main male character is actually a lot more like jungkook sometimes when he speaks.

Bits and pieces of Tae’s loves and muses are all over the story, but the main character? She’s all you.

"What's different about this one?" You ask, hair spilling over your shoulders in an uninterrupted tangle that has Tae itching for a brush. You'd tried her pin curls out a few nights ago but had complained about the pinching so Tae quiets the part of herself that wants to use you as her own mini dress-up doll.

"Usually my emotions are brief, but" she presses her palm to her chest, "I have all this pain here. All of this pain and all of these thoughts and I don't think I know what to do with it besides write it down." You pull yourself up and closer to her, phone slipping out of your lap and sliding onto the carpeted floor. But Tae’s smile is already comforting even if it is a little sad.

She wheels herself over again and presses her lips to yours, your needy fingers almost instantly find her waist, the way you grab at her when you want to cuddle. Tae knows your body language so well.

"It’s not something you can make better darling," she says, and she means it, the way she looks at you means she means it. "But I think- I think giving it to other people might make it better, a little."

You lean your cheek into her palm, sleepily sighing. "What’s it about?"

Tae launches into the beginning, and the rest is history. She talks about her own story the same way that she talks about the books she reads. Fast and excited, like it's right there in front of her eyes on a movie screen.

“It starts with a library- only it’s not like a normal library. This library is kind of magic-”

~-~

(Namjoon, 7 days after rut)

In the wake of Namjoon's rut, all of the alphas have been feeling their instincts a little more keenly; this has expressed itself in only one behavior one that you didn't think you'd see the return of after it had sort of calmed down at the beginning of your relationship.

You don’t know how to feel about the fresh return of the courting presents.

But with the nest upstairs, you suppose that you don't mind the veritable collection of new nesting pillows, blankets, and specially made Egyptian cotton sheets for your Alaskan king-sized mattress- courtesy of Jimin. In a variety of colors of course; black for his preference, and pink for Tae’s.

Namjoon doesn't like being one-upped by anyone. Although his gift takes several more days to arrive and set up. (Yoongi stayed up the night before with Namjoon to help set it up because Namjoon is notoriously bad about any sort of home improvement let alone when there's an Allen wrench and six pages of instructions involved)

You giggle as Namjoon's fingers tamp over your eyes. He almost steps on the back of your heels with how close you're walking. "Here, there's a wall" You reach out and help him lead you so that the surprise isn't spoiled. Bright shafts of light slip through his fingers.

"Joonie-"

"Here, step down- there you go pup. Here-"

Namjoon takes his hands from your eyes and resists the urge to bounce up and down, your wide blinks, your suddenly sweet scent all of it, soothing to the cloying discomfort of instincts not expressed in his chest. Lips parted into a cute little oh.

You're in the backroom, the last coat of paint was finished yesterday and the pack has gone to work putting it together with the new velvet green couch and many of Hobi's plants. But what you don't expect is the item just left of the door.

The nesting couch, or more correctly nesting pod has high walls that peak at the top somewhat like an onion. The interior of it is upholstered with smooth non-irritating fabric and a thick cushion at the base and up part of the walls. a soft little bowl almost like a human-sized dog bed (a pup bed).

A small dark soft space, perfect for nesting. With a little curtain that you can zip closed, that should enswathe you entirely in darkness. The interior of it is Piled high with a new duvet and more than a dozen new pillows (all freshly scented) like a bowl of colorful candies. Some of them are vaguely stuffed animal shaped and a few actually are stuffed animals.

You blink down at the croissant and the cake, the disembodied blueberry.

“Jungkook might have helped me pick them out, he went a little over the top.” Namjoon rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s rut or a” he coughs, “first knotting present, I guess. As a thank you and an I’m sorry for biting you present.” Namjoon shifts back and forth, feeling vaguely nauseous but in a love-sick sort of way. “Do you like it?”

Nesting nooks are expensive gifts, this one alone must have been several thousand dollars. Although Namjoon's anxiety ticks higher as you continue to not say anything. Staring at it and blinking like you can’t believe it’s there. “I thought you could maybe, use a bit of space because of the upstairs, I know you’re used to nesting on your own.” Yoongi had told him about your need to keep your downstairs nest still set up. You know the second the sentence slips past his lips that they've talked about it, that Namjoon’s worried.

It's nothing personal you just, you feel like you might need a little spot, like Tae does for her library room, a little spot that's just yours. A spot for you to be quiet

And Namjoon's just given you it.

Your mouth twists and Namjoon tilts your jaw up to his so that he can duck in close and nose along your hairline. "Hey I didn't mean-"

You take the nearest cushion and crush it to your chest, this one the shape of a graham cracker. "I love it." Your gaze darts away, heart in your throat. "Can I? Try it out?"

Namjoon steps aside hastily, watching as you ease inside it. Pulling yourself into the dark cavern. it’s soft and comfy. protected in a way that has you instantly feeling hazy. Quiet and mostly scentless, the noises from outside Dampened, the feeling of everything butter soft beneath your fingers.

It's so safe here.

You start to knead a pillow, softly, the way that noodle might. Flopping over onto your side. Back against the cushion wall. Rolling a little in it. And a slow purring slowly fills the room, soft and first, and then stronger. You rub your scent across the border, making it smell like yours.

Namjoon drops to his knees and watches you. when he sticks out his hand you nuzzle into it, cheeks pink, scent omegaspace sweet. you chirp happily and he smiles down at you.

“There you go pup.”

~-~

(Tae, sometime at night)

(Content warning)

Namjoon isn’t the only one who's gotten you courting gifts recently.

Tae presents yours to you with pink cheeks, the small rectangle pretty when you unwrap it, green warn fabric, and embroidery on the cover.

It’s a copy of Alice and Wonderland, delicately illustrated with watercolor splotches of characters on every other page. It smells like vanilla the way that Jimin smells like vanilla, the musk of it soft and smooth.

The next time you get small and pupish Tae reads to you, her soft voice lulling you into a softer, smaller headspace. So fuzzy that you can’t feel your toes, mind dumbly repeating ‘mommy, mommy mommy’ with little else on your mind.

Page after page of pictures that your wide eyes follow without so much as a word, small whines when Tae pauses to see if you’ve fallen asleep yet tell her everything she needs to know about if it had been a good decision or not. the right gift.

Tae is the only alpha in the pack that can give you this, who can trigger omegaspace in you with as little as a raised eyebrow.

She has a fantastic reading voice. She and makes the voices of the white rabbit and the mad hare just funny enough to have you huffing soft giggly purrs.

It's not the last book she gets you. Far from it, over the next few weeks, you quickly fall into a routine: after dinner, she’ll find you in the nesting nook, in your room, or in the bathroom washing up. And she’ll pull you in the direction of the library room and produce another wrapped volume. Some of them illustrated and some not.

You’ll curl up together on the couch, one ear pressed to her heartbeat, another that inches to hear her words and a soft croons. Her hair tickling your forehead where it lingers, just around her shoulders. Grown out now and faster since she started to use a fancy hair serum.

There are other, slightly more scandalous times, when you squirm at certain parts, unable to find a properly soothed position. When you turn to nuzzle into her shoulder. Nosing along her collarbones and searching for something that makes Tae’s chest tight in all the best ways. Bright eyes glassy, too shy to ask for what you wanted.

What you needed.

The first time you’d face planted into her chest into her barely there but steadily growing tits. She’d laughed, the skin there new feeling and vaguely sensitive. Little white stretch marks shine like a silver lining over the hem of her lace top.

“You looking for something pup?” she’d teased, she wasn’t necessarily surprised after all, you hadn’t been looking at the book for a few minutes, watching her soft inhale and exhale. The faint imprint of her nipples under the shirt.

“Can- can I” you’d stuttered, words too hard for you to string together, looking down at Tae’s chest, fingers bunching up the fabric of her dove-colored night dress.

Being in omegaspace is easier than being totally up these days. Tae knows you need this, without saying why, something is going on in your head that seems too big for it, something that makes you listless and quiet when no one’s around. There’s a reason- there has to be.

her hand cups your cheek and directs your gaze to her face and not her chest, and you blush, having been caught looking. “Good pups use their words, honey, even if they’re feeling small and needy.”

You struggle when you pull back, sorting through your pupils brain is a difficult task when preoccupied with Tae, mommy, want, pretty, mommy alpha smells so nice, looks so safe.

“Can I- can I put my mouth on Mommy?” heat laces down her chest, a fire like none other that has her body growing warm everywhere you touch, the smooth line of your inner thigh pressed to hers, your stomach as you inhale to whine. You squirm away from the embarrassment of asking for something so taboo.

Her hand grips your waist, and you know you aren’t going anywhere.

“Take what you need pup.”

Her spaghetti straps are down around her shoulders before you can blink, dress rucked down to her rib cage. Her chest has swelled so prettily from the hormones her nipples little puffy peaks. She’s maybe a b cup at best but your mouth waters, a whine slipping from your lips without you trying to summon it.

Tae guides you to them with her hand threaded through the hair on the back of your head. Fingers rubbing soothingly against your scalp and oh

With Tae so close, you can smell all of her. It’s so natural when your mouth guides into a suck, Hot and gentle where she’s sensitive. Your nose nudges against her skin taking deep lungfuls of her scent, greedy in the way that you curl around her body. Your brain is truly quiet for the first time in months. Resting your head in the crook of her elbow.

Tae sighs and stretches out while you settle. It’s not exactly not sexual but intimate, the attention at her chest isn’t something that makes arousal stir in her stomach, not when it's like this. Sucking softly, never too hard, with the same pressure that you might mouth at a soft blackberry, lips teasing but only just teasing.

She picks back up the book and keeps reading, ignoring the way her breath hitches with every harder suck.

There is something about tucking your face close, hands tangling in her dress, that feels like the most natural expression of your dynamic. The way she pets over your shoulders and reads to you while you set down your heavy worries. Clinging to her until your fingers go slack and your sucking slows. Lips parting to let out soft sleepy breaths across her sensitive skin and Tae knows you’ve fallen asleep.

Tae is the only alpha who can give you this.

After the first time, all bets are off.

Tae often finds you tugging at her top at dinner time, fingers curious and needy on her ribcage, unwilling to touch where you need to under the gaze of so many other.

Bending under the need, the haze of omegaspace tugging at you, begging for the couch and her in the green room. It’s especially bad if she wears anything low-cut. You’re squirmy in her lap during movie nights, a little breathless any time she hugs you (she might be a little mean and tug you up so that you're face to face with the object of your desire)

You're more than a little nervous around the rest of the pack.

But she agrees this is a secret. A habit that should be just yours. Tae never would have said there would be anything too intimate to share with them after coming out but maybe this is.

One time and one time only does Jimin accidentally walk in on you,

Namjoon is close behind, she isn’t sure what their reasons are. Luckily your head is blocked by a blanket and Tae only has to hiss a “get out” for them to turn tail and run. Thankfully, they hadn’t prodded that much about it later.

It’s not always so innocent, sometimes Tae’s thigh presses up between your own guiding you into a slow grind or her fingers wander, gently parting your thighs and pressing up and under your sleep shorts. fingers curiously exoloring between your thighs insistent to taste your pleasure in the air and hear your needy moans.

But every time you stop sucking, she stops touching. leaves her fingers just there tugging on your clit or just around them. Caught between a rock and a hard place, as you keep going, looking up at her, hips jerking against her fingers. Your sucking near frantic as you cum and Tae's wicked smile and mean laugh above you as you gush and drip around her fingers. rubbing gently over your clit at the same rhythm which you suck.

Worse are the times that she says, “Mommy’s turn” with a smile on her face. Switching your positions entirely. Holding your wrists so that you can’t try and cover yourself as she licks and sucks with abandon. Rubbing your frustrated tears away with her thumbs as she sucks at your nipples until they’re bitten and sensitive. So sensitive that you feel them every time they rub against your shirt, constantly distracting you and reminding you of her touch.

There is something about you needy and squirmy in omegaspace, dripping messy all over her nightdress, upset and tearful at being teased for so long that makes Tae’s alpha purr, makes her almost addicted. Those moments usually end with her cumming over your tummy and you grinding one out against her face or her thigh and once, her tits.

She’s cum on yours before, had you hold up her skirt like a good girl, standing there with your nipples wet from her mouth to let her jack off all over you. listening to you babble about how pretty her cock looks, how beautiful she is, it never takes her long.

The walk of shame to the bathroom had drawn the stares of quite a few of your packmates, Jimin had nearly walked into a wall as Tae led you upstairs for a shower.

It's intoxicating being needed, being the bearer of your needy whines and these delicate moments. When one nipple gets too sensitive and Tae transfers you to another, cheeks pink, lips wet and kissable, tasting like Tae's skin when she leans down. fussy, unwilling to be parted from her for even a second.

Tae looks and feels her most beautiful with her chest sucked pink, nipples glossy from your mouth when you inevitably fall asleep like that. And Tae has to pull up her dress and call for one of the alphas to help carry you to the nest like you weren't just doing something so salacious

When you’re alone, and your fingers instantly gravitate towards the buttons on her blouse, needy whines mean only one thing as you struggle to unfasten the buttons. Fingers clumsy from your wanting.

"My sweet little pup, so cute and needy for mommy that you can't even wait for a second, what am I going to do with you?"

~-~

(Hobi, the same day as before)

Not many people use the beach this late in the season. The businesses on the boardwalk are half-boarded up now that the tourist rush is over and half of the lights are empty and vacant of their usual neon splendor.

But maybe if Yoongi were here, he’d say that this is the way that you and Hobi flirt. With jabs back and forth like crashing waves. Jests of Are you tired yet? and not at all as you run and giggle, splashing through the dark waves. Happy and zoomy in the way that dogs get when you give them wide open spaces to run. Until the late hour drags your bones down and exhaustion makes you giggly and innocent. The way you and Hobi maybe never get to be when you’re not alone with each other.

But you can trust him, with your sensitive parts and your darkness too.

The beach is quiet at night, the hem of your pajama pants soaked 3 inches up from the cold water. Your shoes sit discarded in the sand and the cold salt air tickles your forehead and your bare toes. A pair of headphones between the two of you tangle in the sand like a string of fate. You bob your head to Hobi��s most recent favorite song and shiver.

Hobi notices and starts to shuck off his jacket, thick sweatshirt balmy underneath. You make a noise in protest but he doesn’t listen. His next words a mess in the middle of so much base, “I’ve got more meat on my bones than you do.”

You take his headphone out of your ear. “You sure?”

“Yeah,”

You ease into the warmth like it’s what you’ve been waiting for, and Hobi pulls himself closer to you to block the wind. You know you'll smell like him tomorrow morning, that the others will hover and breathe deep, appreciating your combined scents.

The moon is bright tonight, casting everything in shimmery pools of silver. You can see him in near-perfect blue-grey detail. It’s what drew you out tonight, the promise of an extra high tide and the glittering splendor of the ocean on a full moon. The drag of waves has the same tempo as Hobi’s soul, the tide higher than usual.

You fold the sleeves over your hands in the semi-darkness and it strikes him as oddly fragile, the way you curl in on yourself. One second happy and zoomy, and the next almost conservative. Like you think you won’t have enough joy for later. Your happiness reseeding like a tide.

Hobi turns his knees to the side. "You've been acting different since the rut." Was it me? Was I the one who made you look a little smaller, a little sadder than you were yesterday? You deflate at his words and Hobi struggles. “Not weird! It’s not bad I’m just-” worried- so fucking worried.

“Was it the alphas today?” he trails off, unsure of what he's asking.

You turn towards him, shoulders resting against the sand. All rocks made small, and time and energy that's made boulders movable. The sand curves to the shape of your body. Your cradle and your grave.

"No- your coworkers were fine just-" You shrivel your nose at the stars, maybe fate is taking notes. "Alphas, you know?"

"Hey, I’m an alpha too." He pushes at your shoulder playfully, trying to make the mood lighter so that you’re more likely to tell him what's really wrong. There’s sand in your hair when you turn away hiding your small smile like the sliver of a crescent moon. He feels like he should have anticipated that and brought a blanket or at least a towel for you to lie on, if not to make you warmer than to at least make sure you didn’t get sand in your hair.

"Yeah, but you're one of the good ones."

He settles back against the sand, faintly warm from the sunshine still. At odds with the cold wind that whips at the two of you. “I’m okay, you don’t have to worry about me, I’m just-“ your face twists with melancholy. “Tired.”

Tired. Hobi had found you dozing in the nesting nook tonight. Why had you slept there and not upstairs? You could have waited for him in either place- so why did you choose the one that made you alone? Why deny yourself the comfort at your fingertips?

Hobi swallows, “do you want to head back?”

Your eyelashes flutter whisper soft against your cheek, your voice thick like you might be about to cry. But you can tell Hobi these things, the restless half-exhaustion of not knowing when it will get easier, the exhaustion of having to try so hard for so long and still feel like you haven't gotten anywhere.

“I don’t think it’s the kind of tired that sleep can fix Hobi.”

Hobi blinks back the tightening in his chest like someone has stretched a rubber band around his lungs, pulling himself up so that you’ve got to look at him and see the sincerity in his face.

"You don't have to be okay you know. You don't have to, it would be okay if you weren't. We'd make it okay."

You swallow and it takes you a long time to answer, long enough that Hobi gets a little worried. You pick up the sand and let it fall through your hand. Dry, movable, changing. When the words come, they’re like a flood.

"It didn't fix me.”

You look like you don’t want to admit it, but the truth is so hard to contend with sometimes when expectations are proven false.

“The rut- being with Namjoon- Proving I could handle it. It didn't fix what was broken with me. I think I wanted it to like- make me feel whole, make me feel normal. It's what an omega in my position should be doing. Helping their alpha. Being good.”

Your breath hitches, and you know that there are so many many ways to be good. Being good for Geumjae meant starving yourself and staying quiet. You thought that maybe being good for Namjoon would be easier, that taking care of yourself would become easy because he wanted that for you.

But maybe it's not the alphas you're with that are the problem.

You liked the rut, you would swear on your mating mark that nothing happened during it that you didn't consent to and fully anticipate. So why do you still feel so fragile? Like you should be apologetic for it, like somehow- you didn't live up to their expectations.

He rolls back onto his ass letting you sit away from him because distance feels like what you might need.

"Good, I didn't want you to choose that."

As much as Hobi and the others are loathed to admit it, regardless of the bite mark now yellowing against your thigh, you being there actually did help during Namjoon's rut. Usually, at least one of them is left looking gaunt and in need of a few days’ rest. Jungkook didn’t even have a seizure this time. And to everyone's surprise, the pack had gone mostly back to normal sort of instantly.

Everyone had been able to walk just fine the following evening, they'd take it slow, but maybe they hadn't needed to. Hobi would have never called them unbalanced before but it's clear now how much their pack benefits from having a third omega.

But none of that would matter if you decided that you'd taken that step too quickly.

Your hand tangles with his, tangles with the sand. His fingers are strong and birdlike in yours, warm and rough.

He waits for a few long breaths "Was it bad that I said that?" Double checking, because you're both allowed to double-check when you need to. Both you and Hobi struggle to trust your internal narrative because you know how easy it is to twist it.

You take turns like this often, being vulnerable, being the one to break apart. Your laugh is something jagged, tearing up bits of yourself that you don’t want to keep, don’t want to hold onto, you swear.

How is it so easy to be hurt and yet so difficult to let the things that hurt you go?

"Yes," your laugh is sadder than he likes, you tuck your face back into the crook of his shoulder. “No. It’s fair. I think I’m just overwhelmed a little, I just wish I knew how to hope like you do. Every time I’m sad it feels like it’s like it’s the saddest I’ve ever been. Like there’s no coming back from it. It's exhausting always trying to be hopeful. How do you do it?"

Hobi likes thinking about it like that; hoping as a learned skill and not as an affliction. He gets cynical every time he gets sad and You know this best. He wonders when exactly you became the person he goes to with all of his contradictions. He doesn't know when he became this person for you either but he likes it.

He likes it.

He pulls himself a little bit closer to you. Nudging your shoulder with his and leaning. Rubbing quick up and down your calves to warm you up. The flannel of your pajama bottoms are rough against his fingers, he thinks they might be Yoongi's.

"I don't know, guess just I have to hope the healing adds up one day. When I'm not sad I don't know what else to do but hope."

You sit like that in silence for a good long while, the headphones buzzing on the sand between the two of you, quietly watching the ocean.

“I think you might be my best friend.” You admit quietly. Hobi’s smile makes the moon shine just a little brighter.

“I think you might be my best friend too.”

You sit like that, your body pressed up against his for a long time watching the ocean. Long enough that Hobi thinks you both might turn into statues, turned to marble pearly ness underneath the moons light, like it's trying to keep you here in this moment for as long as possible.

Hobi thinks you might have fallen asleep but then You stiffen and freeze. It's not him you're looking at when he turns. Your eyes have lost their glassiness, squinting into the ocean at something in the distance. Bobbing too close to be a buoy and too hard-shaped to be a patch of seaweed.

"Hobi, I think there's something out there in the water."

~-~

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~-~

Extra’s: Tae’s angel halloween dress + the nesting nook

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ricciardosheart · 5 months

Text

Starry Serenade on the Riviera

pairings: Charles Leclerc X female (gf! reader)

The French Riviera basked in the golden glow of the afternoon sun, casting its warm embrace over the luxurious city of Monaco. Yachts gently swayed in the harbor, their sleek forms mirroring the indulgent lifestyle that defined this opulent corner of the world. In a stylish apartment overlooking the azure waters, (Y/N) awaited the return of her boyfriend, Charles Leclerc, the acclaimed Formula 1 driver.

As the door swung open, revealing Charles with a mischievous smile, (Y/N)'s face lit up with surprise. She hadn't expected him so soon. Charles approached with a bouquet of her favorite flowers, the scent of lilies filling the air as he handed them to her.

"Surprise, mon amour," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "How about a spontaneous adventure this afternoon?"

Intrigued, (Y/N) couldn't help but smile. "An adventure? I'm in. What do you have in mind?"

Charles winked playfully. "It's a secret. Just trust me."

They ventured down to the harbor, where a sleek yacht named "La Belle Vie" awaited them. Charles had arranged a private cruise along the French Riviera—an intimate escape from the bustling world of Formula 1 and a celebration of their love.

As the yacht set sail, the gentle hum of the engine accompanied the laughter and chatter of the couple. They sat on the deck, sipping champagne and enjoying the panoramic views of the coastline. The Mediterranean breeze carried the promise of an unforgettable day.

"I thought we could have our favorite meal together," Charles revealed, unveiling a picnic basket filled with delicacies. The aroma of truffle-infused dishes mingled with the salted sea air, creating a sensory symphony.

(Y/N) couldn't hide her delight. "You think of everything, Charles."

He grinned. "Only the best for you."

Their lunch turned into a culinary journey, with each bite a testament to the pleasures of indulgence. They laughed, shared stories, and savored the flavors of their favorite dishes, creating memories against the backdrop of the azure sea.

As the yacht cruised along the coastline, Charles suggested watching a movie under the open sky. A cozy setup awaited them on the deck, complete with blankets and a projector. They nestled together, the gentle rocking of the yacht adding to the cinematic experience.

The movie played, but their attention often wandered to the stars above. Charles pointed out constellations, weaving tales of the cosmos. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the magic of the moment, wrapped in each other's company.

As the afternoon sun began its descent, casting a warm hue over the sea, Charles spread a blanket on the deck. They lay down, hand in hand, gazing at the sky as if trying to capture the essence of the French Riviera in their hearts.

"I wanted today to be about us, away from the pressures of the racing world," Charles confessed. "You're my anchor, (Y/N), and moments like these make everything worthwhile."

(Y/N) smiled, her eyes reflecting the love she felt. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, Charles. This is perfect."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in a riot of colors, Charles and (Y/N) remained on the deck, the French Riviera embracing them in its timeless allure. The yacht continued its journey, carrying the couple through the twilight of the Mediterranean.

In the quiet of the evening, with the city lights of Monaco twinkling in the distance, Charles whispered promises of more adventures and shared dreams. (Y/N) nestled closer, feeling the heartbeat of their love resonating with the gentle rhythm of the sea.

The yacht sailed on, leaving behind a trail of shimmering reflections on the water—a testament to a love that found solace in the beauty of the French Riviera. Charles and (Y/N), wrapped in the serenity of the moment, sailed into the night, knowing that some memories are destined to linger like the stars in the Mediterranean sky.

As the night deepened, Charles and (Y/N) found themselves in the heart of the Mediterranean, far from the city lights. The yacht glided through the calm waters, the only sound being the gentle lapping of the waves against its hull. Above them, a canvas of stars stretched endlessly, creating a celestial spectacle that mirrored the depth of their connection.

Wrapped in a blanket on the deck, Charles and (Y/N) traced constellations with their fingers, lost in the vastness of the night sky. The quietude of the moment allowed the whispers of their hearts to become the only conversation that mattered.

"I never imagined Monaco could be so peaceful," (Y/N) mused, her eyes fixed on the stars. "It's a different world out here."

Charles nodded, his gaze reflecting the shimmering reflections of the stars. "Monaco is known for its glamour and excitement, but there's a serene beauty to it when you escape to the sea. Just like our love—thriving in the quiet moments."

They lay in silence, the yacht gently rocking them in a cradle of tranquility. The hum of the engine became a lullaby, and, in that cocoon of peace, they felt like the only two souls in the universe.

As the night progressed, Charles guided (Y/N) to the yacht's prow, where the vast expanse of the Mediterranean stretched before them. The moon, a radiant pearl in the velvet sky, cast a silver trail across the water, inviting them into its nocturnal dance.

"Shall we dance?" Charles extended his hand, a playful glint in his eyes.

(Y/N) laughed, taking his hand. "Why not? A moonlit dance under the stars—it sounds like a dream."

The yacht became their ballroom, and the soft music playing in the background set the rhythm for their dance. In the embrace of the night, with the stars as their witnesses, Charles and (Y/N) swayed to a melody that only they could hear.

Time lost its relevance as they danced under the cosmic chandelier, wrapped in the enchantment of the moment. Charles held (Y/N) close, their hearts beating in synchrony with the gentle ebb and flow of the sea.

As the dance came to an end, Charles whispered, "You're my favorite melody, (Y/N)."

They returned to their blanket, savoring the intimacy of the night. Charles reached into a small cooler and produced a box of chocolates—each piece a miniature work of art. Together, they indulged in the sweet symphony of flavors, savoring the richness of both the chocolates and the moment they shared.

With the yacht gently sailing back towards Monaco, Charles and (Y/N) found themselves on the deck once more. The city lights came into view, transforming the horizon into a glittering panorama. The French Riviera, with its blend of glamour and serenity, became the backdrop to a love story that unfolded like a cherished novel.

As the yacht docked, Charles and (Y/N) stepped onto the harbor, hand in hand. The night had woven a tapestry of memories that would forever be etched in their hearts. The adventure, initiated by a surprise visit, had transformed into a journey of love, intimacy, and shared dreams.

They walked along the moonlit promenade, the echoes of their laughter harmonizing with the gentle lull of the Mediterranean. Monaco, with its grandeur and sophistication, embraced them as they strolled through its enchanting streets.

On a secluded terrace overlooking the city, Charles and (Y/N) found a quiet corner to sit. The night unfolded before them—a canvas painted with the hues of their emotions. They spoke of dreams, of the future, and of the enduring love that had guided them through the labyrinth of life.

The city below seemed to hush in reverence as Charles took (Y/N)'s hand and looked into her eyes. "This night was about us, about the simplicity of love and the magic that happens when two hearts are in sync. Thank you for being my partner in this beautiful dance."

(Y/N) smiled, her eyes sparkling with affection. "Thank you for a night that feels like a fairytale, Charles. I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world."

As dawn approached, casting a gentle glow over the horizon, Charles and (Y/N) lingered on the terrace, watching the first light of morning paint the sky. The French Riviera, with its timeless allure, had witnessed a love story unfold—a story that began with a surprise visit and evolved into a symphony of shared moments, laughter, and the quiet magic of the night.

Monaco, with its yachts and city lights, stood as a testament to the grandeur of their love—a love that found beauty in simplicity, thrived in moments of serenity and danced under the stars of the French Riviera. As the sun rose over the Mediterranean, Charles and (Y/N) embraced the dawn of a new day, knowing that their love story would continue to unfold in the enchanting world they had created together.

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ktkat99 · 5 months

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I had a dream that Alex Hirsch was doing a panel interview and someone stood up and yelled something like "what do I have to do for a third season? Donate blood?" and he looked very concerned and just replied "you should be donating blood. Everyone should donate blood" and then a week later there was a single, new Gravity Falls episode that started with the words,

To make sure Sam gives blood

Fans everywhere lost their minds because it looked like they could get studios to do what they wanted by donating blood and soon there were blood drives for popular fandoms everywhere. One studio then held a competition pitting Star Trek fans against Supernatural fans, saying their favorite pairing would be made canon if they gave the most blood.

And then I realized I was sitting in a classroom watching this on a projector while the teacher lectured us on "The Blood Television Era" and the whole thing was credited to Dan Povenmire

#one time i dreamt #wierd dreams #gravity falls #alex hirsch #dan povenmire #ive been thinking about rewatching gravity falls again

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writing-for-marvel · 1 year

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Everyone’s Watching Him (But He’s Looking At Her) (3)

Actor!Bucky Barnes x Assistant!Fem!Reader

< < PART 2 | Series Masterlist | PART 4 > >

Summary: You’ve barely had time to recover from the controversial interview the night before, but it’s time for Bucky to step into the limelight yet again for his movie premiere.

Warnings: body insecurity and mention of reader sucking her stomach in, idiots in love, soft fluff, shy & insecure reader, jealousy, multiple POV switches, miscommunication, angst (yes, you read that right, though it’s me so you shouldn’t be surprised)

Word count: 4.6k (I may have gotten a little carried away)

A/N: photo credit to @justarandomgirly, banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

Sunshine creeps through the partly closed curtains, the brightness flickering against your closed eyelids causing you to wake from your serene slumber.

The bed is as soft as a marshmallow, and smells divine, like good quality fabric softener and an undeniable musky scent, which, when surrounding you entirely in the sheets, pillows and large duvet, is like coming home.

You’re still drowsy when you spread yourself out like a starfish, stretching all your joints that have become stiff with sleep. Which is when your brain kicks into gear and realises, in fact, this bed is much too large and comfortable to be your own.

Your eyes shoot open, and what you see confirms your suspicions that this indeed isn’t your bed. You’re met with a luxurious sized room, a large projector screen hanging from the ceiling against the wall opposite the king size bed and a chaise longue over in the corner beside a full length mirror.

Recognising it immediately as Bucky’s bedroom, you do a double take, checking to see if he’s in the bed beside you. You find your stomach sinks in disappointment when you realise you’re alone.

A soft meowing coming from the door catches your attention, but before you can shift positions too get a better look, a fluffy white cat jumps onto the bed and curls up beside your head. Much like his dad, Alpine was a little stand-offish at first, but once he became familiar with your presence, he’s been the most affectionate cat you’ve ever met.

“Good morning, handsome.” You murmur whilst reaching out to scratch under his chin. Alpine purrs in contentment. “C’mon, let’s see if your dad’s awake.”

James Barnes is of course not awake, though that doesn’t surprise you. He always needs a good eight hours of shut-eye, otherwise he’s in a horrible mood for the rest of the day.

Now that you’re wide awake, the memories of the previous night come back to you. In an attempt to distract Bucky from the chaos which would have been erupting online, you stayed up until four in the morning reminiscing, watching old movies and eating all the junk food in this extensive pantry.

Though from your last recollection you were still beside him on the couch, head resting on his shoulder as you became sleepy - you could only speculate that Bucky carried you to his bed after that.

You lean against the doorframe of his guest bedroom, coffee mug in hand and Alpine brushing against your leg as you take a moment to watch Bucky sleep. He looks so peaceful, his lips pressed together in a smile. You can’t prevent your mind from wandering to what exactly he dreams about when he closes his eyes at night, and the hope inflating like a balloon in your stomach that perhaps you have something to do with the subconscious smile he’s expressing.

After the ordeal the night before, you hate to wake him from the tranquillity he’s found for himself, rouse him into a day where all the headlines, both good and bad, will be about him, where his name will be trending on twitter, and all the gossip columnists will be speculating about who he’s dating and why he needs a prosthetic arm.

You wish you could protect him from the scandalous storm, but you also know he has a lot to do in preparation for his movie premiere tonight. The part of you who is employed as his assistant wins out this time.

“Bucky…” You coo gently from the doorway, hesitant to encroach on his personal space while he’s unconscious. You are just an assistant after all. Once you see him stir but not fully wake, you call softly again. “Buck, it’s time to get up.”

“Not yet.” He mumbles in response, making no effort to move or open his eyes, let alone get out of bed. You chuckle at how adorable he is when he’s tired. Most people would consider it being grumpy, you actually find it endearing.

“I made coffee.” You know those are the magical words to get Bucky Barnes moving for the day. He finally opens his eyes and they instantly meet yours, all you can think about is being the first thing he sees every single morning for the rest of his life.

“Thanks.” He says with a soft smile. “I’ll be right out.”

* * *

Bucky is still getting dressed when the doorbell rings.

He’s not expecting anyone, but he’s sure it’s just Maria coming over with last minute directives concerning the premiere tonight. A shiver runs down Bucky’s spine at the thought of stepping out in front of all those cameras again so soon after last night's debacle. It’s horrible timing really, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice but to attend, however reluctantly.

He’s buttoning up his shirt when he hears the distinctive sound of a toddler laughing, and he instantly knows who has paid him a visit.

When he exits his bedroom he’s met with four smiling faces. You, his darling sister, his best friend and their beautiful daughter.

“Buba!” She calls, not quite able to say his name yet.

“We thought we’d pop around after everything that happened last night. Much like her favourite uncle, Jamie has an infectious smile, and we think you could use some of that today.” Becks comments as she tickles her daughter's tummy, making her giggle. Bucky finds that contagious smile spreading over his features as his sister hands him Jamie, who, by the way she’s squirming in his grip, seems very happy to see her uncle.

He didn’t know it when he woke up this morning, but this is exactly what he needs to take his mind off yesterday’s disaster and his impending public appearance tonight.

You offer to leave, so he can spend time alone with his family, but he’s adamant that you stay. Bucky’s sure he will only ever be able to find true contentment and happiness with you by his side, because when you’re elsewhere, there will always be a fragment of himself missing.

The rest of the morning is filled with smiles, laughter and pure joy. His schedule has been so busy the last couple months with finishing the production of the movie in a different city and the press tour, that there’s a lot to catch up on in little Jamie’s life, as well as that of her parents.

“When are you going to tell her?” Becks asks in a low voice as the two of them make lunch in the kitchen, but Bucky can’t take his eyes off the scene playing out in the living room. He’s far too invested in watching you babble, laugh and play with his niece, the miracle his sister and best friend named after him, to care about anything else in the world.

“Tell her what?” Bucky asks, not paying enough awareness, even to his own sister, to figure out what she’s implying.

“That you’re in love with her.” This, however, does capture his attention and are perhaps the only words Becks could have uttered in order for him to take his focus from you.

“How do you know?”

“The way you look at her. Like she’s everything you’ve ever wanted and all you’ll ever need. Everything you’ve waited for.” Bucky chuckles, his sister knows him too well for her own good and he knows there’s no point in trying to deceive her - she also happens to be far too smart for her own good too.

“How come I could never see that between you and Stevie before you told me you loved each other?” It was the love found between his sister and best friend that made Bucky truly believe he too could find a love with someone that would transcend the remainder of his life. It may have taken him a couple years after that, but he then finally met you, and all fell into place.

“Because you were oblivious. Still are actually.” It’s now Becks’ turn to chuckle, but in a way that makes Bucky feel like he’s missing some vital piece of information.

“Why still?”

“Because you clearly don’t realise she’s in love with you too.” Bucky's entire world stops. All he can feel is his heart thumping so forcefully in his chest it might burst at any moment.

“You think- no, no she isn’t… is she?” Only in his fantasies do you return his affections. He’s dreamed, sincerely hoped, that bashful smile and twinkle in your eye when he says anything remotely flattering about you is an indication of something beyond friendship, but he’s never let himself fully believe that in fear of having his heart completely crushed.

Could you really love him?

“She’s the one who invited us around today, she thought seeing your family would be just the spark you need.” And that’s when he thinks his heart stops completely. You organised this? Without him asking or prompting in any way - you simply did it because you thought it would cheer him up? You knew exactly what he needed, what would brighten his day and you were content not taking the credit as long as he was happy?

“Buck, take it from someone who waited far too long to tell the person they loved that they indeed loved them - don’t wait. Stevie and I danced around it for years because he’s your best friend and I’m your sister. If you love her, tell her. It might just be the best decision you’ve ever made. It was for me.”

And with that Becks pats Bucky on the shoulder and leaves him with his l thoughts as she joins her daughter for feeding time.

Tonight. I’ll tell her tonight, Bucky pledges to himself with a new found surge of courage.

He just needs to get through the anxiety of this damn movie premiere without someone asking him why he’s missing a limb before he does.

* * *

After you bid farewell to the Rogers family, realisation sets in that it’s time to prepare for the premiere. You can tell by how tense Bucky’s shoulders are that he’s not looking forward to the occasion, which is a shame because he’s put so much time and effort into making an entertaining film for it to all be ruined by one bully interviewer.

And that’s what you attempt to remind him of, but to no avail. There’s a sharp, stabbing pain in your gut at the thought that, at least this time, you’re not enough to be able to cheer him up.

However begrudgingly, Bucky allows you to take him meet with his stylist for the final reveal of his attire for the night. After the award show season, he wants to go with a slightly different look, and Bucky seems to welcome the change.

“What do you think?” Bucky asks, strutting out in a navy blue suit with a cummerbund, doing a performative twirl just for you which makes you chuckle.

“I much prefer when I get to help you with a tie.” Is what you say, because you’re sure if you try to articulate how gorgeous he looks you’ll end up admitting he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. The memory of helping you fix his tie last night flashes in your mind and your cheeks heat at simply the recollection of being that close to him.

“I’ll have to remind the stylist only suits with ties from now on.” Bucky smiles, his hands twitching in a way you hope indicates he wishes you were within proximity to touch. “Oh, I also have a surprise for you!”

He ducks back into the dressing area and for the minute it takes for him to return, excitement and suspense grow in your stomach. When Bucky comes back, he has a garment bag in his hands and a cheeky grin on his face.

“Try this on for me.” You try to protest, to object to him having spent any amount of money on you, but when he forces the garment into your arms and directs you to the dressing room with his large hands on your waist, you’re putty in his hands.

“Can you zip me up please?” You ask nervously, as you walk back out to model the gown for Bucky. You turn around and a wave of vulnerability overcomes you as he stares at your bare back. He slowly makes his way over to you, hands careful as he zips up the gown.

He looks at you in awe, but you’re sure it’s just because he’s used to seeing you in a pair of jeans and a band tee rather than an elegant dress.

“Bucky, I can’t accept this… this is far too beautiful and expensive.” You advise, though you're too busy admiring how the dress fits in the reflection of the mirror to fully appreciate the absolutely enamoured expression he’s regarding you with.

“Doll, it was made just for you, you wouldn’t want it to go to waste would you?” He says with a smile, unable to take his eyes off the dress and how perfectly it fits your body. He knows he’s going to have not so innocent dreams about it tonight.

“Thank you Buck, I promise I’ll pay you back.”

“No, you’ve already done so much for me, more than you know, please, let me do this for you.” You don’t push the matter any further, but make sure to express your gratitude again before leaving for the premiere. After feeling so out of place during the recent award show season, it means the world that Bucky would do this for you.

You feel confident in your custom dress when you arrive, not only because the gown you’re wearing actually fits you properly, unlike every other second hand dress you’ve worn to important events, but because of the way Bucky looks at you while you’re wearing it.

But when you get separated, him moving to the red carpet along with all the other exquisitely dressed celebrities and notable attendees, and you with the behind the scenes help, the distance between you allows space for doubt and uncertainty to creep in.

You watch Bucky greet his co-star, the gorgeous Sharon Carter. You can’t deny it, she looks absolutely stunning. Perhaps more than stunning, if that’s possible. A woman out of a man’s sexual fantasy.

A fire red dress plunges down her front, a long slit in the side shows off her tall, slim legs and taught material over her abdomen and hips leaves no room for questioning how flat her stomach is and the desirable curves of her waist. It makes you suck your stomach in, suddenly overly insecure about how your body looks in your gown.

It’s hard to breathe watching Bucky looking at her with such a genuine smile and an eagerness in his eyes that you could only describe as attraction. And that even though they’re in front of flashing cameras and being recorded for the entire world to see, you can see that he’s not feigning a second of it.

Everyone in attendance is abuzz with comments of how dashing they both look, but more notable, what a breathtaking couple they make.

Bucky’s hand slides lower and rests on the curves of her waist, making jealousy spread through your body and stomach churn with insecurity.

The ache in your chest is the painful reminder that it is only in your imagination where he is yours, even if in every version of reality you will always be his.

From that moment on you find it difficult to truly concentrate on the importance of the occasion, or the anticipation of seeing a blockbuster film before the majority of the world. You’re too caught up in the self doubting thoughts bouncing around your head like in a pinball machine.

The movie itself goes by in a blur. You try your best to remind yourself that Bucky’s playing a fictional character, but it’s difficult to sit through two hours of the sexual tension between him and Sharon which ultimately ends in a steamy sex scene.

The chemistry between them is tangible and you recognise that spark in his eye on the big screen as the same way he looked at her on the red carpet. It’s easy to convince yourself that there will never be that electrifying magnetism between you two when not only have they shown it while filming a movie for six months, but also have exhibited it right in front of your eyes tonight.

By the time the movie ends, it feels like someone’s sitting on your chest, every breath agonising, even though you have no right to be jealous. He’s not yours, he’s your boss, he’s never vocalised any romantic interest in you and quite clearly he’s capable of doing much better than you anyway.

The first person Bucky hugs as the credits roll is Sharon. Seeing him find solace in her arms is enough to push you to the edge - you need to get out of here.

As the cast is preoccupied by all the recognition and acknowledgements, you take the window of opportunity to slip out the side door, needing the fresh air and space between the setting bringing you so much anxiety.

You think you’ve escaped inconspicuously until you hear a door closing behind you. The way Bucky’s voice calls your name is like a warm embrace in the cold, lonely night and compels you to stop.

“Where are you going?” He enquires as he catches up to you, a confused furrow in his brow.

“I’m sorry Bucky, it was all becoming a bit too much for me in there, I just want to head home.” The concern brimming in his eyes is enough to make your knees weak and for you to forget that you’re actually incredibly insecure and jealous right now. Bucky knows you don’t like crowds so that’s the excuse you’ll stick with.

“Doll, why didn’t you just tell me? Let me drive you.” He offers thoughtfully without any further questioning.

“Bucky this is your night, you should be celebrating with your friends not driving me anywhere.” Your last wish is to inconvenience him, that’s why you attempted to leave unnoticed, because in the back of your mind you knew Bucky’s benevolent enough to try something like this on a night that should instead be dedicated to him.

“I want to make sure you get home safe. Please.” He looks at you with those puppy dog eyes you intrinsically know you’ll never be able to say no to, those same eyes which regard you with a tenderness you’re only familiar with from him, that make you feel more beautiful and treasured than all of the precious gemstones money can buy.

“Okay.” It should perhaps concern you how quickly you yield to him, but the elated smile which forms on Bucky’s face as you do is reward enough for conceding so easily. That, and the knowledge that if he’s with you, he’s not with Sharon.

“Thank you!” He exclaims, as if you’re the one doing him the favour instead of the other way around. His large hands cup your face as he leans in and kisses your forehead, much too quickly for your liking because before you’re even able to savour the feel of his touch he’s pulling away and rather all you can feel is the cold absence of where his contact was the moment before.

Bucky can see the shiver which runs down your spine and shrugs off his jacket before you even have the opportunity to protest.

“Here, take this, can’t have you feeling cold.” He places the large jacket around you without hesitation, making sure the shoulders are aligned correctly before his hands smooth down your arms before finishing in your hands. His proximity makes you feel dizzy and you’re suddenly hyper aware of how sweaty your palms are. Bucky looks down at you, eyes briefly flickering down to your lips as he licks his own, before settling on your eyes. Your desire to kiss him is about to overrule every professional instinct you’re attempting to exert, when he opens his mouth to speak. “Just wait right here, I need to say a quick goodbye to some people but I’ll be right back to take you home. I promise.”

He squeezes your hands as reassurance and before you’re even able to process the glint in his tender eyes, he’s disappeared inside.

You pull his jacket tighter around you as the wind picks up, losing yourself in the same captivating musky scent you were surrounded by this morning in his bed sheets. It’s soothing and reminds you that it was in fact you who was comforting him last night when he broke down. Not Sharon. You.

“Are you heading off?” A familiar voice asks. You look up to find Maria taking a drag of a cigarette, and for a rationale you’re unsure of, your grip on Bucky’s jacket becomes tighter.

“Yeah, Bucky’s driving me home.” You say with a smile you can’t suppress.

“Oh darling, he can’t leave the celebrations yet. He’s the star of the show!” Maria takes one last puff of her cigarette before she stamps it out with her red bottom shoes you’re sure cost more than your month's rent.

“But he-”

“Besides, I’m sure he’d much rather go home with his girlfriend.” If her words don’t kill you first the nonchalant tone she uses to implode your entire world just might.

“Girlfriend?” You choke out.

“Sharon - I mean, you saw how cosy the two of them were today? They’ve gotten awfully close after all those long months playing love interests.” Simply hearing her name makes your heart clench and brings back the suffocating envy you were feeling mere minutes ago.

“I guess.” Is all you can manage to say.

“Look, darling, you’ve had a long couple days working, you should head home! There’s a taxi rank just around the corner.” Maria almost pushes you forward, but with how weak and pliant you’ve become with self doubt, your body puts up no resistance. You mumble a quick goodnight before your feet shuffle you the rest of the way to the cab stand.

There was a small part of you that hoped, perhaps even believed, that Bucky reciprocated the overwhelming feelings of love and devotion you held for him.

Over time you’ve needed to syphon off larger and larger segments of your heart to be able to store your ever growing feelings for him and all the memories you’d made with him you refused to forget, until you realised that small section had instead become your entire, overflowing heart.

And you pondered that when Bucky looked at you like he didn’t even want to blink in fear of missing out on a single second with you, perhaps that’s what he was doing too.

But why should you trust your instincts when they’ve led you astray so many times before? When all it’s resulted in was the pain of heartbreak and rejection.

Why would Bucky Barnes, renowned playboy and the biggest movie star in the world, be any different?

To your dismay, it turns out he isn’t.

* * *

Bucky leaves the celebration with a pep in his step.

He’s going to take you home and tell you how he feels.

He can’t help the nervous twisting of his stomach at the thought of baring his heart to you. Revealing that his soul has become intertwined with yours and you carry his fragile heart wherever you go, but that there’s simply no one else in the entire world he wants nor trusts more to have that privilege.

He’s about to reveal his most closely guarded secret, open his heart and expose his most vulnerable side to you with the prospect of complete rejection. And as much as it scares him half to death, he’s taking his opportunity. Becks believes you love him, and that’s about as sure as he can be.

When Bucky rounds the corner, Maria is standing alone exactly where he left you and his heart squeezes tightly with anxiety.

“Where is-”

“She left, said she needed to get home and didn’t want to wait for you.” Maria informs flatly, but Bucky can’t believe it. You’re always so patient, so accommodating to his insanely hectic schedule, had you really grown tired of waiting on him?

“She left?” Bucky can hear the distress in his own voice. He looks around, desperately confused, feeling an abyss being carved into his chest as the realisation of your departure sets in.

He told you to wait right here.

He promised he’d be right back.

He was going to tell you he loves you…

Even though Maria confirmed otherwise, part of him expects to see you standing there, wearing his jacket over your shoulders and that shy smile of yours which makes his stomach perpetually flip. But there is nothing aside from the faint music reverberating from inside, and a cool breeze that reminds him you’ve left with his jacket, and his heart, without so much as a goodbye.

“She’s off the clock Bucky, no wonder she wants to go do her own thing, she’s not getting paid to cater to your every whim 24 hours a day. Besides, this gives us a chance to chat. I have to talk to you about Sharon Carter.” Maria platonically drapes her arm around Bucky’s shoulders and directs him back inside without knowing her words are like a knife to his chest.

Of course you want to do your own thing, you have a life outside of being his assistant, you don’t want to be around him every second of every day working. That’s why you were in such a rush to leave tonight.

How could he be stupid to mistake you doing your job for anything more?

“What about Sharon?” He doesn’t want to deal with any work talk right now, all he wants is to go home and nurse his bruised heart by himself.

“I’ve talked with her management, and we’ve agreed to push the angle that you two are dating.”

“No, Maria, I don’t want to do that, I’ve had enough of PR relationships.” You are all he wants. Bucky doesn’t want to have to hold hands, kiss and be excessively affectionate with someone else when it’s really you he wants to be able to do all those things, and more, with. He finds his palms are sweating at the mere thought of being able to do that with you, even if you don’t want that with him.

“James, it’s already in motion. Everyone’s speculating about who you’re dating after last night's interview, so we pushed the story before the red carpet tonight to drum up buzz about the movie. It’s perfect timing!”

Dread settles in the pit of Bucky’s stomach. The next week will be filled with press for the new movie and he’s going to have to play the part of Sharon’s devoted boyfriend when all he craves is to be yours. This was a nightmare he desperately wanted to wake up from.

Two hearts, connected in a way even their owners don’t understand, go to sleep that night feeling more alone and unloved than ever before, when in actuality they both dream of the same thing: being with each other.

Part 4 > >

Add yourself to the series/AU taglist to be notified of any additions to this AU

Everyone’s Watching Him (But He’s Looking At Her) [Actor!Bucky Barnes] Taglist: @sunnyjane4 @ravenodindottir @valhalla-kristin @learisa @crispysublimecupcake @iamfandomwasted @blackwidownat2814 @hailey-holt @rosepetalsinwinter @wifeofbarnes @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @vicmc624 @oliviagreen99 @gabshouse @raging-panda @priya212 @highlyintelligentblonde @buckyseddie @erynnnn @endless-summer-soldier @one-shot-plus-size @takeabreathdearh @its703pm @nefelibatansoul @theweekndhistorybook @albinotigerpython @goldenharrysworld @buckyslove1917 @supersanelyromantic @gothkitteh @ahrahrahraha @hopelessromantic423 @misshale21 @happeevacationday @farfromjustordinary @blackgirlbydna @mrsgweasley @readreblogfics @ashenc-blog @redbarn1995 @thewackywriter @missvelvetsstuff @broadwaybabe18 @buckys2lut @arny-montana @calirindo @justfic

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teyamsatan · 7 months

Text

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ xɪɪɪ - ɪɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ

pairing: neteyam x human!reader

➽ a/n: finally, a new drabble! i'm actually quite happy with this one, and you better read until the end for a (hopefully) nice surprise! ly besties, smooches and xoxos

➽ words: >700 words

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: fingering, tiny little degradation, tiny bit of praise

➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)

A moan - small and insignificant, you thought, pushing past your plump lips like the air through the trees on a particularly stormy night. But he heard it, and that was enough for the movement to cease, enough for the pleasure bubbling up in your core to dissipate almost as quickly as it began. A shiver - down your spine, at his hushed purring words, his voice sweet like honey and molten like the lava in the Pandoran volcanoes you’ve only but heard about and envisioned in dreams and fantasies.

“What did I say happens if you make a noise?”

A sharp inhale - looking around the room, where Na’vi and humans stood alike, focused intently on the motion picture displayed clearly on a big projector. Like in a cinema, you were told. Humans love movies, they go out of their ways to experience them the way they were intended, and Norm insisted - no movies unless on a proper screen. It was nice. A stepping stone in the right direction, in the continuous if not a bit unrelenting desire to improve intra-species relationships and merge the now two coexisting words. So maybe what you were doing now was good, right? Cooped up under a blanket in between your best friend’s thighs, his fingers knuckle deep in your soaking cunt, hitting spots inside of you you didn’t even know were possible, his thumb drawing circles on your clit… It’s progress, right? You’re… building up rappor with the Omaticaya… right?

A promise of four purple bruises - as his hand digs into your hip, willing you for an answer you didn’t want to give him, because if you did, it would mean facing harsh reality.

“Answer me, yawne.”

Whispered touches on your folds - as he teases you with the promise of more, as he tortures you with the lack of it. It’s heaven and hell, just like his whole entire being is. Neteyam was the perfect man, an angel on paper - sent from above to heal, to mend, to be everything anyone’s ever wanted of him. The perfect son. The perfect soldier. The perfect sibling. The perfect friend. The devil in actuality- like he was now, in the confines of the privacy you normally found yourselves in when like this, desperate to own you, possess you, eager to strip you of your clothes and sanity layer by layer until you were nothing but a fucked-out shell of who you were at the beginning of the night, until you were begging him to stop… until you were begging him for more.

“S-stop. You said you’d… stop.”

A low chuckle - evil and mischievous, filled with underlying ache and a deep desire to put you over his knee and show you how good girls are supposed to behave. Later. Right now, he wants to see you squirm, he wants to hear you struggle to keep that pretty little mouth shut as he makes you come on his fingers over and over, until you’re squirting and mewling and crying, until you inevitably fail and he has to watch you scramble for a lie, stumble on your words as you say to the people watching in confusion that the movie was just that emotional.

“That’s right. So what am I supposed to do now, mm?”

A whine - desperate and pitiful, as you grind on his drenched fingers, looking for any relief, any friction that could alleviate the emptiness in you. The chuckle was a full blown laugh now, perfectly matched to a particularly funny scene in the movie. It wasn’t weird when everybody else laughed, too, right? Neteyam couldn’t have told anyone asking what was going on on the screen if they paid him, and well, he was glad because this… this was so, so much better.

“Keep go…argh! Keep going, fuck!”

A moan - as he enters you again, two of his large fingers stretching you like a dream, hitting spots inside of you you didn’t even know existed. All of a sudden the world, this room, they were null in your mind, and you were alone with just him, with just these feelings and the man who was making them real, with the orgasm you felt rapidly approaching and what you knew would be the beginning of a long, long night.

“There we go. My little slut, taking my fingers so well. Maybe it’s time to give this people a real show, huh… Vol?”

taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @hadesbabygurl@linydoll @the-mourning-moon @kasai-https @dvxsja (if your tag doesn't work pls check your settings x)

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ownedbyfictionalwomen · 1 year

Text

again

abby anderson x fem!reader

abby is about to leave... but you don't want her to. smutty + a little angsty (not really but...). 18+ 0.8k words.

!fingering, boobs, cream, divider by @firefly-graphics!

The two of you hit the bed at the same time, your chests rising and falling from the overexertion, desperate to catch your breaths. You pulled the duvet up to cover yourself, your cheeks reddening bashfully as you looked over at Abby to see her already staring back at you.

The two of you laughed lightly and looked away again, back up at the ceiling as the post-sex awkwardness started to seep back in. The blank white wall above was like a projector, playing back the events that had just occurred, all the softness turning over in your head again.

Her arms wrapped around your bare back, pulling your body into her lap, your breasts pressing into hers as you kissed her softly. Your hands held her cheeks as you delivered sweet pecks onto her cheeks and lips.

Gasping as her one hand reached down to grip your ass harshly, kneading the flesh and driving your hips into hers…

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

You came back as Abby shifted on the bed, leaning over to grab her shirt off the floor as her other hand held the comforter against her chest, hiding what you were desperate to see again. Stunned into a momentary bout of distraction, you watched as she got herself ready to go, pulling on each piece of clothing and tearing a little rip in your heart each time.

The moment Abby pulled you into her body, your every dream had come true. You couldn’t remember a time when you hadn’t been crushing on Abby, loving on her muscles and sweet personality since the moment you two had met. It almost made you weep, her constant and unconditional kindness…

“That’s it, sweet girl, I’ve got you.” She whispered, kissing your wet cheek as tears streamed down your face. “You look so pretty bouncing on my strap, don’t you?”

Your breasts were squished up against hers as she sat back against your headboard, her hands still holding your hips, fingertips digging into your supple flesh, helping you ride her thick cock.

“Mmm… shit, that’s so good.” You picked up your pace, grinning at the surprised expression on Abby’s face as you worked harder to make you both cum. She looked at you with awe as you leaned back on your hands, giving her a better view of your dripping pussy as it swallowed up her strap.

“Fuck… you’re my pretty girl.”

You rubbed a hand up and down her back as she was tying her laces, feeling her muscles bunch up underneath your fingers, “you don’t have to go, Abby.”

She paused, turning back to you and giving you a softened gaze, as she explained gently, “that’s not how one-night stands work, sweetie.”

The truth? Abby wanted to stay, desperately. She was one more delicate touch away from ripping her clothes off and bending you over again. But she couldn’t, she couldn’t fathom the fact that the best sex of her life had just been with you…

Guilt pierced through her as she saw the bruises on your hips, her fingerprints marring the sweet skin of your thighs and neck, symbolising the innocence she had taken. It was something she loved about you, the adorable smiles that would grace your face, unbeknownst to the world the two of you were living in.

“I didn’t think this would be a one-night stand.” You said, sitting up with sexed-up tears remnant on your blushed cheeks. “I wanna do it again, Abby.”

That almost broke her. The thought of your creamy little cunt wrapped around her, oozing at every rough thrust she gave you… she’d die to see that again.

“Please?”

Abby took a deep breath at your plea, her hands tightening on the edge of the mattress in desperation as she listened to the breathy inflexions in your voice, reminding her of your cute moans.

“Don’t you wanna fuck me again?” Whispering, you edged towards Abby on your knees. You leaned over her, giving her a tender kiss on her temple as you grabbed her hand, guiding her until her fingertips were gliding through your slick folds.

You slipped off your knees and onto your backside, opening your legs as she took control again, sliding two fingers inside you, gasping at the way you tightened around her gently. She got rougher the louder your moans got, punishing your sweet cunt in return for your screaming.

But you loved it.

“You know I wanna fuck you again, sweet girl.” She said, smiling at the way your eyes rolled back at the sound of her voice and the slow plunges of her fingers. She wasn’t ever going to let you go.

“Then do it.”

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby tlou #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x female reader

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lulu-tutu · 1 year

Note

Rise tmnt request; platonic hc of mom figure female reader who's taking care of her teenage turtle kids; how she's enjoying cooking with mikey and attend his dr. Feelings sessions, how she sew for raph many dolls and teddy bears with different colors (she hate ghost bear for hurting her baby), how she used to put donnie and leo in get together shirts whenever they start chaos.

But her favorite activity; gathering embarrassing pictures, videos of the turtles's childhood and show it to everyone, like if she ever were kidnapped by big mama they would spend a lovely time talking about the turtles when they were kids (the mad dogs try to save their mom faster before their secrets get exposed😂)

Mother Dearest ⭐️ Rise!Turtles HCs

A/N: *throws unlimited affection at you* How in the world did you manage to give me so many heart clenching, tooth aching, fluff filled requests?? Please take my hand in platonic marriage, we do not deserve you. I almost enjoy these parental requests as much as I enjoy angst. Almost.

Pairing(s): Mother Figure!Reader & Turtles

Warning(s): FLUFF, may make you cry from wholesomeness

Proof read :)

The boys are, well, your boys. You don't make the rules. The turtles are your babies.

Do you spoil them? Yes. Will you ever stop spoiling them? Of course not.

You do everything in your power to keep your kids happy, no matter the cost, even if it's the tiniest of things that make their faces light up like fireworks.

Mikey, oh sweet baby angel, you could never say no to him, why would you even consider that in the first place?

You and him make the most mouth watering dishes the universe has ever seen, and you always give the credit to Mikey despite how he tries to wave it off and reflect it back towards you.

When the two of you are in the kitchen, it's like watching art come to life. When one of the other boys enter the room, they sometimes have to stop and gaze in amazement at the two of you, hypnotised by the way you both work so effortlessly around each other.

You always try and give Mikey little tips to push his dishes towards perfection, and he always does the same to you when you find yourself making something you haven't even heard of before.

You and Mikey are the dream team when it comes to the kitchen, no one could even compare.

Watching his face turn darker from your praises as you all dig into his meals, it just makes you so giddy to see him so happy.

When it comes around to it, you definitely attend his Dr Feelings sessions! You're there to listen and take in whatever your youngest son has to offer, your face serious the whole time he reads through his clipboard or points towards the projectors screen.

Raph was also one of the most spoilt of the four, though you tried to make sure to evenly give the others gifts.

After many nights of learning how to sew and stitch (while getting many pricks and pokes at the same time) you had learnt how to craft the most adorable plushies, dolls and teddy bears Raph had ever seen.

Or maybe it was the thought behind them that made him love them more than any other plushies he had. He would just guess it was both.

The first time you had rushed into the lair with a plastic bag swinging at your side, Raph had thrown you so many worried questions. "What happened? What's in the bag? Did Donnie make you steal from the museum again-?"

Like I said, you'd do anything to make your boys happy.

When you tore open the bag to show him your hard work, he gasped so loudly, tiny stars in his eyes.

He couldn't pick a favourite! Of course the red bear was one of them, with it having a red bandana around its neck and tiny roses dotted around its body, the blue one was also adorable-oh, the yellow one too- a pink one?

The more he looked around in the bag, the more colours he saw.

And then he caught a glance at your bandaid covered hands, which instantly activated his own 'mother bear' instincts. heh.

"You didn't have to make me anything, you hurt yourself doin' it!" "Raph, sweetie, I'm fine! The look on your face was enough to heal any injury."

He melts, which makes you melt.

You helped him organise his room, placing the plushies on his bed, making sure each one got enough love and care. You didn't want any of them feeling left out!

And oh, don't even get started on Ghost Bear. You hear one mention of him and you're shaking your head, biting your tongue from cursing him out for even thinking of hurting your baby boy.

"That guy has no right being idolised by the great Raphael! If I ever get my hands on that no good-"

Mikey has to drag you away after that, hand covering your mouth to prevent some not very nice words from slipping out.

You knew how much Donnie needed to hear any sort of praises from a parental figure, and you were there to give it and more. He was desperate, and you didn't blame him.

You spend a lot of your free time in his lab, even when he has his music blaring loudly. You got use to it after so long.

He doesn't say it, but he really enjoys your presence. You two don't have to speak, all he needs to know is that you're there for him while he tinkers away.

He shows you something new and most likely dangerous?

"Holy cow, that's amazing! You're amazing! How did you even make that?"

Cue him flapping his hands around wildly before diving into a deep explanation about it that you don't understand at all, but you nod along and smile as he talks away.

You also offer to help collect materials with him! Bonding! He never turns you down, even when he's in a bad mood thanks to Leo's pestering.

You let him get his frustration out to you, happy to listen to him rant and just be that shoulder for him. If he wants you to give him advice or feedback, you will. But most of the time you let him just get everything out in the air.

Talking about Leo, hoo boy.

Chaos. Always chaos.

There's rarely a time to relax around that boy, he is such a handful.

"Leo, leave Donnie alone before he pulls out a flamethrower or something."

"Leo! How can you make the most fanciest looking sandwiches I've ever seen, but manage to burn toast? And why is the toaster on fire?!"

"Did you take Raph's shark bear? I'm going to count to three and it better be back on his bed before I stop counting. One- Good. That's what I thought. I'll make you one too, just ask next time."

When you do get the rare moments of peace, it's blissful and strange at the same time.

Sitting down reading together, whether it's him reading a comic and you a novel. Playing video games with him teaching you some neat and secret tricks, or him even showing you around the Hidden City.

You meeting Hueso was the worst thing to ever happen to Leo. Now he has to deal with the teasing of not only one parental figure, but two? At the same time? He has many regrets. At least you two end up getting along well.

When Leo and Donnie decide to have their daily argument? Into the Get Together shirt they go!

"Wha- No! I demand that I be set free! Being close to this moron is a fate worse than death!"

GASP! "How could you say that, dear brother? I was about to say the same thing!"

"You two continue like this and you'll stay together for a lot longer." "Yes, mom."

"Yes, mother."

When it eventually gets out to the world that you're very dear to the turtles, you weren't surprised that an enemy of theirs would decide to use you as bait.

Thankfully, Big Mama was pleasantly fun to be around. When you told her about your boys, she instantly released you from her webs and beckoned you to come closer.

When the boys come bursting through the doors, they instantly crumble to the floor in horror. They were too late.

"Oh, hey sweeties!" You wave towards their tearful faces, your phone out and facing you and Big Mama, a picture of the four when they were younger and taking a bath was currently on display. It was only one of the many you had shown the spider Yokai who giggles at the cuteness.

"We're too late! We've failed!" Mikey sobs on the floor, clutching his face out of pure embarrassment.

"Please tell me you didn't show her-"

You cut off Donnie with a large grin, "The video of you guys pretending to be mermaids? I did."

"NO!"

This was not the first time those pictures and videos have been shown to someone, and it will not be the last. You make it your last mission to show off your boys to anyone and everyone.

#rottmnt x reader #rottmnt x you #rottmnt x y/n #rottmnt Mikey x reader #rottmnt raph x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt platonic x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt x you #tmnt x y/n #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt Leo x reader

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emeritusemeritus · 2 months

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I was wondering if you could do one with y/n and George and they are being woken up by their toddler because she had a nightmare

Okay this is the cutest thing ever and I am SO painfully aware of toddlers keeping their parents awake right now so art imitates life I guess 😂 hope this is okay! 🖤

Warnings: None? This is tooth rotting fluff and I’m here for it. I used ‘Poppy’ as the name of their daughter because I’d written it before in one of my works. George is the best dad.

Word count: 718

You feel yourself pulled out of your dreams slowly, the majestic colours fading away from you as you become more and more aware of your consciousness. You squint in the darkness, the pitch black room offering no clue to why you were currently lying awake.

"Mummy," a little voice sniffles from your side and your eyes quickly flick to where the voice had come from, eyes straining in the darkness to find her silhouette.

"Baby?" You question, fighting against the burning tiredness stinging your eyes, "what's wrong?"

You start to sit up, feeling slightly more awake as you feel a little hand reaching out for you, touching your arm, already trying to climb up your body. You hear another little sniffle and sit up quickly, worried about the disturbance. You flick the light on beside your bed, thankful that you'd kept it on the dimmest setting as the warm, soothing light fills the room.

There you see your daughter, tears in her eyes and her little niffler snuggle blanket clutched tightly to her chest, the scene tugging on your heartstrings.

"Come here sweetheart," you say as lovingly as you can, pushing back the covers before pulling her into your arms between you and your sleeping husband, her body nestling into your side automatically under the warm, protective duvet. You smooth back her wispy red hair as she snuggles closer and closer to you, her silent sobs calming almost straight away.

George stirs at the movement and you watch as he rolls over, the vague outline of his body moving beneath the duvet.

"Poppy? Baby what's wrong?" George says sleepily, his words slightly mumbled and weighed down with tiredness. He reaches out to lay his big hand over her tummy protectively and she responds by reaching out her little fingers to grab at his hand.

"Scary," she says with a cry, fresh tears falling out of her eyes and onto her little freckled cheeks.

"You had a bad dream?" You ask gently, instinctively reaching out to wipe the tears away from her cheeks. She nods, letting out a little sob and George can't help but move closer, pulling his arm around the both of you until she's cradled tightly between her mummy and daddy, the safest place she can be.

"You want to talk about it baby? About what scared you?" George says softly, trying to keep her calm. She shakes her head against you, bringing her niffler to her face, undoubtedly rubbing the remaining snot onto the poor little niffler's fur.

"Well how about this: you stay with mummy and daddy tonight? You'll be safe here and tomorrow daddy will go around your bedroom and get rid of anything that's frightening you ok? He'll use his magic spells," George says with a calming voice.

Poppy nods eagerly against your side and immediately breaks out into a little giggle, enthusiastically tucking the toy niffler under the covers so he has a place to sleep too.

George reaches over to the bedside table for his wand and casts a quiet spell that makes little stars appear, dancing around the room above the bed like a projector. He used to do it when she was a baby, a way of calming her through the many sleepless nights when nothing else would work. She lets out a little gasp as the stars twinkle and dance around, watching the soothing scene with complete elation.

You smile at the two of them, bending down to kiss the top of Poppy's head and to secretly get a little sniff of the scent you loved so much. You watch as she wriggles about for a minute, finding her new comfy spot as you turn out the light, hoping to settle in for a good sleep once again.

Just as you begin to drift off, happy that Poppy's breathing had steadied to a calm and regular beat indicating that she'd fallen back to sleep, you feel a little hand on your chest that makes a wide smile stretch across your face into the darkness.

The stars have dimmed now, the last embers of light shining from them as they begin to fade, just enough to allow you one last glance at your sleeping husband and daughter, huddled together and sleeping soundly. You are the luckiest person alive.

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #george weasley masterlist #George Weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #requests

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impyssadobsessions · 3 months

Text

Raising Phantom Chpt 11: Mess Around and Find Out

AHHHH I was hoping to make this a double length chapter but realize it be too long. With everything i wanna put in <3 so enjoy. Excerpt below <3

Everything was on fire. The office building was crumbling in on itself. A woman screamed, phone clutched in her hand tightly- tears streaming down her face. Regrets filled her chest while she thought of all the moments where she could have done something different. She wasn't even supposed to be in the office at this hour, but she was working hard to impress her boss. She wanted that promotion. All she had dreamed of, now she was doubting if it was even worth it.

Thoughts of how her two year old will have to grow up without her. Gotham was so cruel to orphans. Would her daughter even make it to adulthood?

Her co-workers were all huddled in a corner, staring down at their demise. One wrapping his arms around her in a vague attempt to shield her from the debris as the ceiling came collapsing down.

She closed her eyes tight, hugging the man back-

But the ceiling never came…

In a dizzy swoosh, there they were. Her and all of her co-workers on a cool rooftop in full view of their old office building as it collapsed. Tears swelled in her eyes.

It was a miracle. A miracle for this god-forsaken city. She prayed for that miracle, whoever they were, that they get to go home to their family just like they allowed her.

“Why MUST you save everyone YOU see?” Vlad, in his ghostly form, growled. His bright magenta eyes glaring down at the little boy in black and white, while they float above the rooftop. Both of them hidden in the plumes of smoke.

“They were going to die!” Danny yelled back as it was the most obvious thing ever. He was not going to apologize.

“Oh boo-hoo! They should have thought of that before thinking it was a good idea to stay in a city where bombs are common practice!” Vlad was fuming.

“Don't you even care about your sister? All this time WASTED saving these idiots.”

Danny flinched, curling up into his small form. He muttered a reply, “Jazz wouldn't want me to ignore them.”

“She ALSO didn't want you to expose yourself either! THINK DANIEL!”

Danny felt his cheeks turn hot. Of course he knew that! Reason he kept invisible… Still they needed help. He couldn't stand back and watch-

A cackle rang throughout the city as projectors started playing on the remaining buildings. Danny's heart dropped.

Vlad whipped his head back to Danny. His eyes glowing the brightest red they ever had as he growled deeply. Danny didn't look at him, eyes glued to where the timer ticked down.

He felt them swell. His vision blurred. Rest on Ao3 <3

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dcxdp #fanfic #raising phantom #jazz fenton #the joker #joker #jason todd #red hood #danny fenton #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #dick grayson #nightwing #crossover #impyelam

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fazedlight · 11 months

Text

Do-Over (supercorp ficlet, 100th episode angst, no plot impact after)

Rao, I can’t believe we did it.

She had nearly given up, after the last timeline - she could still feel the sting of kryptonite in her veins, the harrowing image in her mind of the green stone in Lena’s chest, as she refused to fight her. “Then you will die screaming.”

But the odds of another world like that - where Lena used 5th dimensional magic, blocking Mxy out - was low. So after Kara caught her breath and shook off her nerves, they decided to give it another few goes.

They hit it in the very next shot. Kara had decided to jump forward again, meeting Lena just after an uncomfortable incident in the elevator to Sam’s apartment - “I can never trust her again” - and giving her the truth. And Lena had been pissed, at first. But over the course of the timeline, she thawed. Kara and Mxy found themselves watching a movie night, Kara’s head in Lena’s lap as Lena gently scritched the blonde’s hair, Kara dozing off in the middle of the second Pirates of the Caribbean.

“This is it,” Kara said, delighted as she turned back to Mxy. “She doesn’t hate me! No one died! This is it-”

But Kara cut off suddenly, watching the screen with widening eyes, as a sheepish and fond confession fell from Lena’s lips. And she found herself a voyeur to her own dreams, watching herself as this other Kara sat up, cheeks turning a bright pink with her own confession, before the two women’s lips gently met.

“Turn it off,” Kara said, jumping off the couch and turning away from the television. “Turn it off, Mxy.” “But this-” Mxy stuttered, confused. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Yes, Kara thought to herself, overwhelming anguish ripping through her body. Because it was everything. Everything that could’ve and should’ve happened.

Had she not been such a fool.

It was a misguided endeavor, she realized now. She could’ve ignored her misgivings, for a time anyway. Embrace a reality where she and Lena were friends again, where she had never hurt her, or at least not driven her so far.

But the pit of nausea in Kara’s stomach grew. Because the idea of being in Lena’s arms, being in her bed, feeling her wanting body, without Lena ever knowing what Kara had done, suddenly felt anathema. It wouldn’t be real. It would simply be Kara taking advantage of her again, far worse than before.

“I’m keeping the real timeline,” Kara said brokenly. “I can’t… I can’t run from this. I- I don’t know how I’m going to fix this. But I can’t undo my mistakes like this.”

Mxy’s eyes gentled at the turned-away kryptonian, holding back a sigh of relief as he snapped his fingers, the projector and reels of film and popcorn dissipating back to his dimension. It was ironic, really, that all of his fake timelines had only made the kryptonian dig in her heels, eager to find something that actually worked. But the one real timeline he had them glimpse - back on Earth-413, before the Crisis - was the one that led to her finally accepting that she couldn’t change time.

Which was great, because neither could he.

Kara took a deep, steadying breath, turning back to Mxy. “I know it didn’t turn out the way we expected,” Kara said, handing back Mxy’s recorder with his backwards-recorded name. “But you still helped me, Mxy. Now I know the only way out is through.”

The kryptonian stood - sad, but hopeful again - and Mxy gave a small smile. As with so much of the mystery of the universe, he couldn’t say how or when Kara and Lena would find their way. He only knew that they would.

“It’s true what you said, Kara,” Mxy said, thinking of the words the woman in front of him had said, not all that long ago. That’s all this endeavor was, really, returning that favor. “Magic can’t be forced. It has to be found.” And it will.

#angst with a hopeful ending #I just didn't feel satisfied with the ending of the 100th episode so here's another do-over #supercorp fanfic #supercorp ficlet #supercorp #mel writes ficlets

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denjjisgf · 5 months

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college student armin thoughts:

armin lives in the last room on the right at the end of your floor. although meeting a fair share of your floormates, he’s the last to introduce himself.

one wednesday, you round the corner for the elevator and collide into his backpack. he has a navy jansport, the kind with the tan suede padding on the bottom. he smiles an apologetic grin and steps into the now arrived elevator. divine timing, right?

it was silent on the way down. the normal scent of last friday’s activities and mud from the melting snow was replaced by pine and laundry softener lingered in the tight space. armin shuffles in place, swinging his arms low at his side and kicking at pieces of road salt with his camel birkenstock clogs. *ping* the metal doors slide inside the wall and you step out first. as you’re walking out, thinking of conversation starters and hoping fate might bring you back to this moment in another life, you give up on this chance to say hello to the nice smelling, pretty eyed boy on your floor. disappointed you make your way to your room for the night. a flash of blond flies past your peripheral. armin leaned into the door in your path with a shove, popping it open to both of your surprise. the owner of the room sat at their desk, shocked at the two strangers standing in the frame of the once closed door, “can i help you?”

“sorry! just looking for the bathroom!” he sputtered out, face red like a tomato. he smiled and you found it contagious.

“we haven’t met yet,” in his head, he counted to ten to regulate his heart rate. “i’m armin.” his voice had the cutest inflections, perfect little cracks of nervousness caught in his throat.

his eyes followed you, taking you in up close. it wasn’t until that last second, really, that he decided to spark this interaction. it had been a long semester, one where his best days were in passing with yours. he dreamed of softly knocking on your door to wake you in the morning and carrying your laundry down to the laundry room, a pocket of change jingling, ready to pay for your loads. in the library, he yearned for you, seated in the chair next to his, where you both study and mostly distract the other. he searched for your face in every crowd and always walked a little faster to the one class you both had three semesters ago when he first saw you. he watched the weeks turn into months, waiting for the perfect moment, but it was never the right time. that was until now.

“hello armin, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

—

“come sit with mee,” he pouts with a pushed out lip. he starfishes his legs out in the center of the bed, swishing them open and closed. his cropped shag sticks up in all the right places as it rests on the headboard. god is he lucky for being so cute; a short sigh slips out of your playful smile while you circle the room, ditching your socks and slipping into a tshirt.

“can you wait a second? i just got back,” you shimmy off your jeans, “and last i checked this was my room.” you finger through a drawer and take out some sweatpants.

“i actually cannot wait. it’s been hours. i thought you only had the one class today. where have you been? you have responsibilities here: me!” he’s gleaming, patting the bed with both hands and urging you closer. “i’ve been waiting to watch our show all day. can we pleasee?”

he’s so damn needy. but he’s so damn needy for you, so who are you to deny. you plop down in the space between his legs where the blanket is warm from his presence and you settle in, palms pressed flat over his thighs and his arms linked with yours in a hug. he kisses along your temple and takes a deep breath, “i needed this.”

he continues to play with you, adjusting the shoulders of your sleeve and pulling at lint on your pants, tugging on your hair and swishing his feet at the foot of the bed. you reach for the remote and a small projector screen illuminates the low lit room, “armin, do you remember what episode we left off on?”

“ i have it all set up and ready. all you gotta do is press play,” he’s so smug, a mix of nerdy matter of factness and what you know as puppy love. you play your show and smile at the familiar theme song— it reminds you of moments like this with your boyfriend. your eyes drift to scan the room; your mugs neatly stacked on the drying rack, makeup brushes resting back in their jar, and a freshly folded pile of laundry sat on the corner of your desk. had he done all this while you were gone? you swell with adoration, a cold tingle racing through your body as you paw for his hands with a squeeze.

“truly, love, what would i do without you?”

“i think you mean what would i do without you?” he smiles and kisses you, soft and sweet, light like breathing for the first time and overwhelming in every sense of the word. “now pay attention, you fell asleep again last night and i don’t think i can bear to watch this episode for the fourth time.”

#armin x reader #armin x y/n #aot x reader #armin fluff #armin arlet x reader #armin headcanons #armin artlert aot #attack on titan headcanons #snk x reader #snk fluff #this is so self indulgent #a self insert at its finest

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writing-whump · 18 days

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I'm in the fluffiest mood lately, so how about a no stakes sickfic. Movie night and the trip (Matt, Sel/Zaya) are home and decide to put on something like spiderverse or smth else, point being, either Isaiah or Matt gets super motion sick from it

Something fluffy it is. Thank you for the ask, Soup!!💙

Cinema sickness

The middle position was the best.

Matthew didn't notice when exactly they started to fight for it like that, but it was increasingly a place one of them got as special treat.

Like of course, when Isaiah was having his not so heart episodes that Seline still didn't know the cause of or when he was emotional. Then it wad Seline herself with a fever. She also usurped the spot most openly when she was well.

Matthew was a little too embarrassed to be that forward. Not when he was feeling fine.

They bought a camera projector they have been saving for a few months. Seline dreamed about the home cinema early on and Isaiah was such a movie buff, it was only to be expected.

Matthew found the cinema experience tiresome because of all the people, so their own private living room cinema because of the projector? Sounded fun. Though the cinema made for good people training.

"You guys didn't watch the second Spiderverse movie yet, right?" Seline said, taking control of the chromcast with her phone to put it on.

"I didn't see the first one either," Matthew grumbled as she climbed up between him and Isaiah who was scrolling through IMDb. He had a thing for ratings, while Seline loved comments and spoilers.

Matthew considered himself the only sane and commonly invested movie person. He liked to get surprised.

"The animation is out of this world. The first movie got an Oscar for it too, but they went overboard and beyond with the second. Each universe has a different animation style! It's the perfect movie for a cinema." Seline waved her phone in front of Matthew enthusiastically.

"Isn't animation for children?"

Isaiah and Seline both gave him scandalised looks. "In what hole did you live until now for such an outdated opinion?" Isaiah asked teasingly.

Matthew rolled his eyes. Didn't look like he would have a say today.

"I don't think you need the first one to understand," Seline said thoughtfully as she put the movie on. "They explain it pretty well, plus I can always explain things to you if you need it."

"You are still more of a fan of the first one, aren't you?" Isaiah said, bumping against her. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder, all three of them.

"I think the character development is simply better there? Also the relationships. The focus on bad mentor and a confused kid and different father figured...this one goes more into the romance storyline-"

"The focus just shifts from him to her's all-"

Matthew shook his head. "Alright, quit it. I want to see for myself."

The movie looked like a very expensive video game. The animation really was something else. Matthew understood quickly they would not be able to film stuff like this for real.

So many colours and so much quick movement. Their living room wall was basically flickering, going from one side of the colour spectrum to the next at rapid speed that had his head spinning.

How could there be so much happening on the screen? It was downright impossible to catch it all.

His eyes felt tired from it. It was all so fast and coupled with the music it was downright aggressive.

Matthew didn't notice when, but the left side of his head felt like someone held it in a vice grip. The more he watched and tried to make sense of what was happening, the more his left temple pounded in unison with his heart.

He found himself shaking his head to clear his vision, rubbing at the side of his face. He even tried closing one eye and then the other. But the images just kept coming and there was some kind of dramatic scene with spidermen all over the screen and damn, his head really hurt.

Seline was leaning her head against Isaiah's shoulder, her legs stretched out and touching them both. Her lap seemed very inviting.

Matt leaned to the side experimentally. He wanted to go slow and see how that would be taken, but the possibility of getting some cover from the screen was getting more irresistible by the second.

He slumped down into Seline's lap, twisting so his face was against her stomach. The lights were all over the living room, reaching even to the windows and the kitchen. No hiding from them.

Matthew closed his eyes, face buried in Seline's belly. He secured her from squirming with his arm over her torso, stretched out all the way to Isaiah's tight. If the other wolf wanted to protest or made any move of displeasure, Matt would quickly notice from that position.

His head hurt. Why just the left side of his face? It was tingling.

Everything was moving too much. The dizzying spinning sensation didn't quite go away, although he had his eyes squeezed shut and wasn't looking.

Not to mention he was starting to feel vaguely queasy, his dinner sloshing in his stomach angrily.

"Mattie, you aren't watching," Seline admonished softly. Her hand went into his hair though, petting it softly. He melted under her touch, grateful for a pleasant feeling to focus on.

Suddenly there was the incredible sound of the movie stopping.

"Matt? You tired?" Isaiah asked, shifting somewhere behind his head.

"Mhhhhhhhhmmmm." Was he that obvious? Suspicious? He wanted to stay huddled there in the softness, thanks.

Isaiah's hand landed on his arm. The older wolf reserved his touches for when Matthew felt sick. But they were so physically close these days, because of Seline of course, no other reason, Matthew kind of craved it, even when he didn't need it.

Or maybe it would count now. But he didn't want to ruin the celebratory mood by being a baby. It was a stupid children's movie, for God's sake.

"We can just call it a night, I think. Continuation tomorrow," Isaiah suggested, ever the peace keeper trying to accommodate everyone.

It sounded nice to not continue the movie in any case. But going to bed created a new set of problems.

Matthew would have to move.

Seline wiggled under his head. "You are heavy," she said playfully. She seemed more open to the gesture than Matthew expected. For no reason at all.

Matthew hummed non-committalally not sure how to explain or escape his predicament without losing his dinner. His stomach was churning angrily and his head was still pounding, sound or not.

Isaiah chucked. "You can sleep here for all I care, but at least let the lady get her PJs."

Matthew huffed at that, but opening his mouth wasn't a good idea. A little burp escaped, muffled against Seline's ribcage.

Seline's fingers in his hair stilled. "Mattie? You feeling alright?"

Did she notice that he got burpy when he was about to spew? He could just be full. Damn it all, the risks of living with people so closely.

Another burp, this time a little louder and wetter. Matthew pressed his face closer into Seline's shirt. It smelled of rain and ozone and grapefruit.

He felt both of their gazes on him without looking. They were probably mouthing something to each other at this point. He could picture it vividly.

The pain in his left temple spiked and he moaned quietly.

Seline's cold hand cupped his nape, stroking his neck up to his cheek where she could reach.

"...If I move, I'll hurl," he admitted finally, figuring he should inform her of the danger she was currently in.

The sigh came from Isaiah though, as the raven haired man moved gently away from the sofa into the direction of the kitchen.

"What's wrong? Is your belly upset?"

Jesus, that sounded childish when she said it like that. Not to mention that weird new Mattie nickname.

"Headhurtss," he manged to get through his gritted teeth, still entirely muffled against her stomach. It was quiet, churning only gently, like a purring cat.

"Has it been hurting for long?" She sounded amazingly calm considering he was lying across her lap. "You seemed fine to me," she said with puzzlement. He could imagine the way her forehead creased, a little wrinkle between her eyebrows as she thought back about the evening.

He opened his mouth the respond, but another burp rushed out instead. Pocket of air against her stomach. Saliva was flooding his mouth.

Matthew loosed his hold on her reluctantly, turning so he would be lying on her knees. He covered his eyes with his hands. "Ow."

Seline placed her hands on both sides of his face. "Where?" Her voice was impossibly soft.

He pushed her cool hand - how was it so cool? - against the left side of his forehead.

He felt more than saw two of her fingertips on his temple, making tiny circular movements against it. She bowled over him, her lips hovering over his ear. "How is this? Should I stop?"

"No, that's nice," he said, relaxing a little. The gentle pressure felt good against the pain, though his stomach was still roiling.

Isaiah came back then, the sofa dipping under his weight as he knelt on Matthew's other side. "I got a bowl if you need it."

"Not the nice popcorn bowl, come on," Seline complained, lifting her head.

"It's big and deep," Isaiah protested, sounding amused.

Matthew groaned at the banter. The headache was giving away a bit at the message, but the nausea rose steadily no matter what he did. He felt air in his throat and spit flooding his mouth. He didn't want to move away from Seline's fingers or the attention, but his stomach cramped angrily then.

It had him shooting up into general direction of up. Except he felt dizzy right away, swaying and moaning.

Isaiah grabbed his shoulder to steady him.

Matthew held his eyes shut against the spinning of the room, trusting him to have the bowl at the right place, cause he couldn't aim. His head exploded on his left side with the sensation and puke rocketed into his mouth.

He was right to trust him. The vomit made a splashing sound against the bowl without him even looking, Isaiah holding it under hid chin.

Seline's hands came to cup his forehead from behind. "You are okay, you are okay. Just get it up."

Matthew gave in to his body completely then, a little more voluntarily at the support. His senses were all over the place. He couldn't tell which was was up and down and his left side of the face as pounding and burning from warmth.

More waves of vomit came, easier to bring up now that he wasn't fighting it. When he thought he would catch a break, a loud burp brought in one more splash and then two more. His back arched, only Isaiah's hold on his shoulder keeping him upright. The sofa was moving like a water bed.

When he was finished, he spat the rest of the foul taste and slumped blindly back into Seline's lap. He wanted her nice scent and her cool hands and the little message against his temple that had a drilling machine against it.

"Better now?" she asked, her hands on his face just like he wanted, stroking his cheek and forehead.

"Mhhhhhhhhhmmmm." There was a relief from the nausea, but he was still afraid to open his eyes.

He could vaguely sense Isaiah's movements as he got rid of the bowl, returned to position it next to Matthew. Then circled around, fitting himself into the opening between Matthew's side and the sofa.

Matthew wasn't sure when vomiting because a group activity, or if he shouldn't apologise or feel embarrassed for making a fool of himself.

He sighed contendly as Seline went back to massaging his temple. Isaiah was rubbing his arm gently, as if to remind him he was there.

And who was Matthew to refuse the middle spot?

#sickfic #motion sick #emeto #hurt/comfort #whump #werewolf wip #my writing #Matt

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