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cheralith · 1 year

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to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, use of she/her pronouns, "mother"/"daughter"/"wife" used, parental death, mentions of child abandonment, not too much mention of him being spider-man

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, hints of pining, just some good ol' fluff for everyone's current favorite dilf, angst w/ comfort, heavy need of editing prob, not beta read

notes ; purely self-indulgent to fuel my love of found family trope apologies

parts: one two three four (tba)

Single Father!Miguel O'Hara whose life revolves essentially around one person—his daughter—but to be one of the heads of America’s largest corporation and bearing the responsibility of keeping Nueva York safe and sound whilst simultaneously being a single father was not exactly something that Miguel O’Hara could juggle so easily. Hell, he’s even surprised that he’s made it so far without losing his absolute sanity considering he couldn’t even recall the last time he was able to rest properly without his attention being wavered to something or someone else.

Single Father!Miguel whose hands always filled to the brim with tasks and obligations. Miguel wished he was able to clone himself twice in order to have three Miguel O’Haras attending to each of his duties soundly, but alas, Alchemax and the matter of his mind can only do so much.

Single Father!Miguel whose ever so lucky to have you as his assistant to at least help with two out of three of them. You entered the picture around three years ago, when he had caught the eye of his superiors and had used his intelligence to their own advantage, disguising it as a promotion of sorts. You were given as some sort of gift to them as a way to help ease his workload and he truly couldn’t be more thankful for your existence—if he doesn’t necessarily show it most of the time from his stoic countenance he masks on 24/7. While not exactly a carbon copy of him, you, by far, come rather close, and Miguel will take whatever comes to him in this day and age.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that you're obedient and demure, though rather soft spoken and a little too apprehensive for his liking at times (he had noticed, before you became his assistant, that your coworkers would shovel their workload onto you and you’d accept with little complaint but evident hesitation; he wonders if it was the given similarities between you and him that made him choose you as his assistant). You dressed well, hung onto every word he said, and spoke out when properly needed. You were a good aid to have around—great, even.

Single Father!Miguel who trusts you as both his assistant and a human being enough to leave his precious daughter in your care knowing full well she would be in good hands. Sometimes Alchemax would work him overtime, sometimes his duties as Spider-Man would interfere. No matter what it was, it delayed him from seeing and attending to his daughter’s needs, and thus, he had asked you once in a while to pick up and babysit his daughter after your usual 9-5.

Single Father!Miguel who, at the beginning, once in a while asked you to pick his daughter up from school. Once in a while turned into occasionally. Occasionally turned into sometimes. Sometimes turned into constantly, and next thing Miguel knew, you were the one that his daughter and teachers would look out for during school pick up time. He didn’t expect that you would become his assistant even outside of work, but you did, and Miguel can’t exactly turn back time now. He’s labeled you as his child’s unofficial secondary caretaker—you’re even listed as an emergency contact.

Single Father!Miguel who thinks you’re too polite for your own good. Miguel had asked you once if this was a burden, being his assistant both in and out of Alchemax, and if it became too much that you were more than free to quit at any sudden time without consequence. You had merely replied that you understood the struggles of being a single parent and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of asking for help when it was needed.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that Gabriella views you more than just her occasional babysitter. When he'd come home late at night, he was usually greeted by you two doing something together, whether it be doing math homework together, baking cookies, you reading aloud to her, or just simply talking, he'd always catch you and her almost... bonding.

Single Father!Miguel who often dwells on the memory of young Gabriella asking innocently why she doesn't have two parents like the rest of her classmates, why she only had one parent compared to everyone else after witnessing she was the odd one out during Family Day. Miguel didn't, and still doesn't, have the courage to tell her that her real mother had abandoned her to him, leaving Miguel in the dust. Miguel used her naivety to his advantage. He disguised it as her being unique compared to others, that some moms just came later in life; she just happened to be a late bloomer.

Single Father!Miguel who always thanks you for staying late tucking Gabriella into bed when he couldn't. You constantly tell him that it's truly no problem, but he insists on thanking you every time and ever so subtly increasing your paycheck. How could he not? Especially considering the fact you always, always whip him up extra dinner that was tucked away for him to eat during the late hours of night.

Single Father!Miguel who feels uneasy as he opens up a fridge to find the said pasta left by you one night in a glass tupperware container, staring at how neatly it’s been plated despite its standard container. He juts it into the microwave as he attempts to ignore how quiet and desolate the kitchen and the apartment is, how the humming of the microwave and the humdrum of the ceiling fan are the only noise that floats through. And when he quietly eats the pasta serving meant for one, he can’t help but gaze longingly at the empty seat across the dining table, where someone else should be seated with him sharing the same meal.

Single Father!Miguel who finally has the time to pick up his daughter after school for once in the school year, but forgot to tell you that you were able to take the rest of the day off. So you, him, Gabriella, and essentially everyone are surprised when both you and Miguel show up to pick Gabriella up after school. One of the teachers goes to gush about how she's excited to meet Gabriella's dad and what a beautiful family you all are, to which you and Miguel, evidently flustered, explain loosely your relationship to each other and how it's merely professional (to one curly-headed third grader, though, it's not—but she'd never tell you and her father that. At least not now.).

Single Father!Miguel who tags along to Gabriella's after school soccer practice for once and despite your protests about you not wanting to interfere "family time", Miguel and his daughter convince you to come watch her like you usually did on Wednesdays. He says he doesn't mind at all and if anything, could use your presence there to ease his nerves since he'd be a newcomer to the soccer parent group.

Single Father!Miguel who watches attentively to how you support Gabriella on the field from the sidelines. He wonders tenaciously if you've fallen into routine of this—from helping her get ready into her uniform to offering small suggestions that help her on the soccer field. He doesn't miss the way her eyes go towards you whenever she did something right and he especially catches onto the fact that she would gush in pure happiness from your approval when you would throw a thumbs up or a delighted nod.

Single Father!Miguel who merely blinks at the compliments given by the two friendly soccer mom next to him.

"Gabi does certainly look a lot like you, but she still has (Y/N)'s beauty and kindness, doesn't she?"

"Oh yes, I agree. Your wife is nothing less of lovely, you know, you're a very lucky man, Mr. O'Hara!"

He's so caught up in trying to process both their words and Gabriella's action on the field, that it doesn't register to him until a few moments later. Miguel attempts to butt in, saying that you're just his subordinate, but when a loud cheer from the other team erupts through, his words fail him.

Single Father!Miguel whose mind is still so stuck on what the soccer moms had said about you that he didn't even realize Gabriella had made the winning goal for today's practice match. Lying through his teeth when asked about if he saw it from her, he realizes that perhaps he should start viewing you in a different light rather than just his daughter's babysitter because the way that Gabriella looks at you with such elation when you congratulate her on her win pulls at his heartstrings ever so slightly.

Single Father!Miguel who contemplates over and over again if he should be doing this—inviting you to Gabriella's first game of the season—the two purchased tickets he held in his fist. You've entered his home a dozen of times, but this would be the first time in three years that he was outside of your own residence. He thinks he's too dressed up for the occasion, cladded in a white button up and black dress pants. A voice asks him if he's his daughter's boyfriend, and Miguel whips around to face an elderly man with a questioned look on his face.

Single Father!Miguel who realizes that it's your father standing in front of him, spare key in hand. He's quick to say no (to your father's disappointment), and introduces himself as your superior. Your father invites Miguel inside your apartment, telling him that you were out fetching groceries and jokingly mentions he uses this opportunity to sneakily fill your cabinets and fridge of food. Your father complains you're too independent for your own good, but he can't exactly blame you—you grew up that way.

Single Father!Miguel who learns that once in your life you were just like his daughter and that in one point in your father's life, he was just like Miguel. All details shared from him, he learns that your mother passed away early in your life due to cancer and ultimately left you and your father to fend for yourselves. Your father tells Miguel that you often had helped out even when you didn't need to—and it doesn't take long for Miguel to piece the pieces together. Why you barely complain about the extra workload, why your father said you're too autonomous, and why all those years ago you not only sympathized with Miguel, but understood his situation as you came from the same exact upbringing.

Single Father!Miguel who listens intently when your father quietly tells him that all he wants for you is to find a good man that would be able to take care of you properly because he believes he wasn't able to. Miguel is quick to reassure him, however, that he did a fantastic job raising a selfless, humble woman that grew to be compassionate and considerate of others' needs, that you were the hardest worker he had ever seen and that he shouldn't discredit himself. Your father goes to examine Miguel for a moment before letting out a loud, haughty laugh in your apartment and jokingly (not really) tells Miguel he hopes that you'll marry him one day, or at least someone like him.

Single Father!Miguel whose resolve dissipates when you walk into your apartment to find your boss and your father talking amongst each other. He sits silently and awkwardly as you complain to your father about dropping by without any warning before you ask him what was he doing here in the first place. Your father takes his leave, winking at Miguel with a glint in his eye, leaving you two in your apartment alone.

Single Father!Miguel who finally gathers up the courage to ask you if you'd like to attend Gabriella's soccer game with him. You interject with visible hesitation, telling him that it was implied that it was a family-only event and you'd hate to intrude onto something so intimate, but he's quick to reassure you that his daughter would love to have you there considering all the help you had given her during her practices—if anything, she would need you there for your support.

Single Father!Miguel who tells you that Gabriella had shown visible distress last night when Miguel told her that you might not be able to come due to your non-familial relationship with them. He almost begged you to come with them, as Gabriella had even threatened to quit soccer altogether if you weren't there to witness her first game. When you give in after moments of contemplation, Miguel truly couldn't believe his luck.

Single Father!Miguel who roots alongside you for Gabriella and her team, watching oh so closely just in case someone from the other team did a dirty trick on his precious daughter. He'd sometimes occasionally glance at you, only to see you completely zoned in and focused on Gabriella's playing like the rest of the parents, offering your support through compliments and encouragements that his daughter always caught and would visibly improve from. When she finally scores the winning goal per usual, she's quick to ignore the cheers coming from her teammates and parents to run off the field and not look for Miguel first, but for you.

"Did you see me?!" Gabriella exclaims excitedly as she flings her arms around your waist. "Did you see what I did?!"

"I did, yes," you laugh, attempting not to stumble over from the impact with visible glee and crouch down to her height. Pride written all over your face, you grin. "And I'm so incredibly proud of you."

"It's 'cause I did what you taught me," she declares. "I pointed first and then I shooted!" She uses hand gestures to reanimate her play on the field.

"Shot, Gabi," you correctly gently, your fingers going to automatically comb out the tangles out of her hair like you usually did after practices. "It does come handy, doesn't it?"

"Yeah!" Her eyes go to see Miguel, who doesn't stalk too far behind with open arms and the same proud look painted on his face. "Dad! Didja see me?! Didja see that I scored?!"

Miguel lets out a once-in-a-blue-moon chuckle and lifts his daughter into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck in an affirming hug. "I saw very clearly, mi cariño, and I can't wait to brag about how my daughter scored the winning shot for her team," he compliments warmly.

Gabriella goes to point gleefully in your direction. "It was all because of Miss. (Y/N)," she declares, not knowing that her statement would make a rush of heat bloom onto your face.

"O-oh no... I only... w-well," you stammer out meekly, trying to find the right words. "I'm actually not too knowledgeable on soccer... I only repeated what I found online and—"

"Thank you," Miguel starts off fondly. "(Y/N), truly. Thank you."

You stare at him. "Mr. O'Hara..."

He sets Gabriella down for her to join her rejoicing teammate and pats the small of your back with a grateful look plastered on his face. You were so used to seeing the rather stoic and often tired side of Miguel O'Hara that you forgot he, too, was capable of smiling at times, so when you spotted the small of a grin on his lips that was for you specifically, you felt something in your chest jerk a little bit.

"If it weren't for you being here," he starts off quietly so only you can hear. "Gabi wouldn't have participated at all. She wanted you to come so she'd have enough courage to play because she was so used to you supporting her," Miguel glances at his daughter giggling about on the field. "So it was understandable that if her biggest supporter wasn't here to cheer her on, she wouldn't exactly do her best."

You blink slowly at him, digesting his words in order to truly savor them for all that they were. "I was just—"

"—doing your job?" Miguel finishes for you. He shakes his head. "Last time I remember, 'attending your boss's daughter's soccer games' wasn't on your job description," he says, earning a soft chuckle out of you despite his rather flat tone.

"I suppose so," you murmur with an evident warmth in your eyes, one that Miguel is sure Gabriella has seen numerous times and will continue to welcome as long as you're around.

So when after a dinner celebration at her favorite restaurant, after the star player is tucked into bed after a long day's work, Miguel takes it upon himself to do the what he thought was the impossible for him but possible for Gabriella.

"Stay safe out there," Miguel directs quietly as he helps you put on your coat again. "And again, thank you for today."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. O'Hara," you reply, "And I actually had fun today, so I can thank you for that."

He escorts you down the apartment complex to the lobby and begins to watch you leave, the words on his tongue tipping ever so slowly before they spill the moment you're about to exit through the doors.

"(Y/N)."

At the sound of your voice, you turn to him with a questioning look on your face. "... yes?"

Miguel opens and closes his mouth like a fish for a couple of seconds before blurting out, "Are you free tomorrow evening?"

He scans your face for a reaction before surprise paints itself on your moonlit features. "I-I suppose I am," you nod slowly. "May I ask why?"

"Gabi is having a sleepover at one of her teammate's house," Miguel coughs out and shoves his hands into his pockets to hide their fidgeting.

"Do you need me to drop her off...?" you ask, clearly puzzled.

"No, um," he clears his throat again. "I was... I was actually wondering if you'd... if you'd like to check out that new restaurant that opened up on Clark..."

Regret pools in his mouth the second it falls from his lips and he begins to internally conjure some sort of half-assed lie, perhaps saying something along the lines of the company wanted him to review it for a potential cater in the future or that a friend of his worked there, but when he sights your eyes softening with the same warmth from earlier, he lets you take the reigns on fate.

"I'd quite like that," you murmur, a modest smile on your lips.

a/n ; i told you i was going to give into temptation. wrote this on a plane with no wifi on the way here (thank god for offline editing!)

anyways, i'm trying to squeeze this bit out before my plane ride tmrw since i've been travelling for the past week and a half! i'll be returning home soon where i can finally write to my heart's content, phew! i just reallyyyyy wanted to write something for miguel adjdjfkfalwf but fear not! we shall be back to our regularly scheduled program soon!

as always, thank you for reading and likes+comments+reblogs are always appreciated and never unnoticed（╹◡╹）♡!

#spider-man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader

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emphistic · 1 month

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Can I request reader being really sick and baby Yuji being really worried about her while Sukuna is trying to take care of her?

A/N: hope the ppl who voted for this in the poll are happy 😡😡 — i feel betrayed because yall didnt choose the other one

If someone who personally knew the three of you walked in right now, they would probably laugh at the current sight. Others would be surprised or confused. But little Yuuji was neither of those things. He was utterly adorably worried and concerned — for you. His little heart couldn't comprehend that you were only sick and would eventually recover. In other words, Yuuji is scared you'll die and never come back.

Then, who will tell him bedtime stories?

Then, who will kiss him goodnight and good morning?

Then, who will hold his hand while walking?

Then, who will coddle and pamper him?

Then, who will?

These were all questions Yuuji could not and would not like to answer.

But Sukuna — being way older than his brother — knew better, and he knew this was nothing too serious. But again, Yuuji couldn't comprehend that.

“Don't make me say it again, sweetheart. Now, open,” Sukuna held out the medicine for you to drink.

“Nuh uh,” you crossed your arms over your chest, backing up into the pillows behind you on the bed. You tried to stifle a cough, but you failed.

“I will pry open your mouth and shove this down your throat. Now, drink.”

You groaned, yet still obeyed. The fluid felt hot and cold simultaneously as you swallowed it.

Sukuna ruffled your hair, “See? Wasn't so bad, was it?” He retrieved the now empty cup from your hands and left the bedroom, probably walking to the kitchen to wash it, you assumed.

Yuuji turned to look at you with big glittery eyes. “I—I don't wan’ you to die. I don't wan’ you to go . . . like Grandpa.” Yuuji’s bottom lip trembled, he didn't want to cry — not in front of you, at least. He wanted to appear manly, brave, just like his brother.

You were quite taken aback at this, did he seriously think a cold could kill you? “Yuuji, come here,” you said, your tone soft.

Yuuji instantly crawled into bed — not without struggling a bit at first — and snuggled into your side, holding onto your hoodie with a white-knuckled grip.

“I will never ever leave you, Yuuji. So don't you worry your cute little head off about it, okay?” You booped him on the nose, emitting a squeal from the boy before he curled up impossibly closer to your body. You wiped away his tears.

“Y’know, I'm not going to die anytime soon. You can't get rid of me that easily.”

Yuuji fervently nodded, not fully believing you but still hopeful, nevertheless. “Yay!”

Yuuji was sad that you wouldn't be able to drive him to school that morning, but he knew you were tired. Plus, he overheard his older brother telling you that sleeping would be good for you, and the boy only wanted the best for you. So Yuuji accepted the fact, though still a little upset about it.

But when he came home from school, Yuuji ran straight to your side, where you were sitting on the couch.

“Y/N!” Yuuji jumped into your lap and gave you the biggest big bear hug a toddler could possibly give.

“Hi there, Yuuji,” you replied, before coughing. “Did you have fun at school?”

“Yeah! It was so fun.” You let him ramble and babble to you about his day, while running your fingers through his pink locks.

“That sounds like you had a really good day, Yuuji.”

“It would have been better if you were there with me, though,” Yuuji mumbled into your shirt.

You giggled at the boy, “Sorry about that, Yuuji.”

“‘tis okay!”

Yuuji snuggled into your sweater, enjoying the warmth from your body. He almost fell asleep from your massaging his scalp, but then he remembered something and gasped, jumping off of your lap.

You raised a brow, albeit not bothering to ask — your throat felt itchy. You unpaused the TV and continued watching your show. Halfway through, Sukuna decided to join you on the couch, pulling you into his side and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Feeling any better?”

“Sorta.” You coughed. “My throat kinda hurts, though.”

You rested your head on Sukuna's shoulder as the both of you watched the actors on the screen, occasionally making small talk here and there.

Minutes later, a screaming, hollering, laughing little Yuuji ran into the living room, making both your heads whip towards him.

“It is I! Dr. Yuuji Itadori! Don't worry, Y/N. I am here to help you not be . . . um, sick — anymore!” Yuuji climbed onto the couch and inserted himself in between you and Sukuna.

Yuuji was dressed in a white doctor’s coat, and had a stethoscope hanging around his neck. A toy thermometer was also in his hand.

Quickly discarding the thermometer, throwing it aside — onto a protesting Sukuna’s lap — Yuuji put the back of his palm against your forehead. And though he didn't understand what he was doing, he attempted to copy his brother, who he had seen frequently do that in order to check you for a fever.

Speaking of said brother, Sukuna got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen.

“Hmmmm!” Yuuji pulled a clipboard out of his pocket and messily scribbled down illegible words onto the sheet of paper. Then, he placed his clipboard down and grabbed ahold of his stethoscope, pressing it onto your heart and listening to it beat.

Out of the blue, a hand roughly pushed the doctor aside, and Yuuji fell off of the couch and onto the carpet. “Out of my way, pipsqueak. Y/N needs her medicine.”

“‘Kunaaaa,” Yuuji whined from the floor. “She was getting her check-up.”

You covered your mouth, muffling your giggles. “Yeah, babe. You interrupted Dr. Yuuji.”

Sukuna grimaced, scrunching up his face. “Doctor? Since when?”

“Since he was born, silly! Yuuji is a prodigy, isn't that right, sweetie?” You picked up the toddler and set him onto his lap, he immediately went to rub his face in your chest.

A muffled ‘yes’ came out from him, though he didn't even know what he was agreeing to.

Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lich1 @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside

#sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff

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teymars · 6 months

Text

NSFW hc’s for the Sully men bc I am bored:

MDNI

General:

• They are each EXTREMELY fertile, pregnancy is almost inescapable when you’re with one of these boys.

• On top of being very fertile, they enjoy breeding their women more than anything, so cock-warming is a nonnegotiable.

• They have great stamina, allowing them to go round after round, ensuring they “fuck you properly”.

• They aren’t particularly vocal, (unless overstimulated) but the growling, grunting and whimpering in your ear never ceases.

• Major pleasure doms fs

• Think with their dicks more than anything (specifically Jake and Lo’ak)

• They enjoy scenting and marking their women in every way possible, even if it’s just leaving you full of leaking cum, to fend off other interested men.

Jake:

• He will happily be late to any of his duties if it means an opportunity to fuck you full.

• Is especially sensitive about you touching his jewels, the feeling of them swelling within your small grasp always has him keening.

• Won’t admit it aloud but he’s totally came untouched to the thought of you in lingerie, giving him a lap-dance.

• Hates when you hide your noises from him, he doesn’t give two shits if somebody is standing 5ft away, let them know you’re his.

• Likes to fuck around by grinding against you in public, not so subtly. He has no regrets when you’re all needy and wet for him by the evening.

• Enjoys littering your inner thighs with deep-purple marks, secretly hoping they are noticeable to other people later on.

• Uses his old camera to create some fun videos with you, mainly so he can fuck into his own fist whilst you’re busy.

• Craves nights where you beg him to be rough, sure he enjoys making slow tender love to you, but being able to use you as he pleases always excites.

Neteyam:

• Is a huge family guy, consistently keeping you bred and arguing that his heart will never be full enough of you and your ever-growing family.

• Prefers your muffled moans and gasps, he’d rather be the only man in the universe to hear such sounds from you, he can prove you are all his in so many other ways after all.

• He is always in favour of doggy-style. He’d never pass up the chance to mount and rut into you with all the energy he has. Simultaneously pushing your head into the cushions of your shared bed.

• He will lean over your shoulder and whisper the filthiest nothings, accompanied by licking your hot pulse-point, hoping to encourage copious amounts of slick from you to aid in his relentless pounding.

• Absolutely has a dick and tongue piercing. Though he may be a bit ashamed by his past foolishness, he soon figures the endless orgasms they produce from you are quite worth it.

• If he isn’t thinking tactically or about what his next meal will be (probably you), he’s planning all the positions he will put you in throughout the night.

• Gets especially needy in the mornings, often waking you up with the prodding of his swollen cock-head, at your already soaked entrance.

• Is especially sensitive on his tip, the way your walls squeeze and slide over it have him near cumming on the spot each time. When it pushes against the textures of your cervix though, he dives over the edge practically every time. (Good thing he’s got that endless stamina)

Bonus: • Will lazily thrust into you throughout the early morning, coaxing both your orgasms slowly before thrusting forward abruptly and emptying every last drop into your aching cunt, remaining there until he is 110% certain you’ll be giving him another child to cherish.

Lo’ak:

• Loves to sit and watch you fuck yourself with your fingers all evening, smirking consistently because he KNOWS his cock has ruined you for anything & anyone else.

• Will comfortably have a conversation with any family member over the comm devices, while fully sheathed inside your warmth.

• Will attempt to breed you anywhere, anytime regardless of who is around. That man has his priorities set fs.

• Fucking creams himself when you openly submit to him, wether it be through a suggestive “yes sir” or spreading yourself open upon your shared bed, ready for him.

• Bites onto your shoulder to muffle his increasing moans when your soft pussy becomes too much for him. The feeling of his cock’s ridges hooking into your wet walls only intensifying this.

• Most sensitive at his slit, the second you tease your delicate fingers or hot tongue along it, he is gone. His hips will be jolting as he fights to hold back an orgasm, succumbing to the tantalising feeling of your pinkie-finger pushing into his tiny slit, teasing him.

• Secretly wants nipple piercings but would never express that openly, he fears what will become of him the day you realise how stimulated his tits can get. Sticks to ear piercings instead and is yet to grasp how Neteyam dealt with the pain of piercing his own cock.

• Also unlike Neteyam, he is not as fussed about ensuring his bloodline carries on through the next 20 generations, BUT he does take pride in having a family with you and will never refuse breeding you so long as you’ll let him.

And that’s all, feel free to speak on any of your own hc’s!! 🩵

#atwow #sullymen #avatar 2 #neteyam #jake sully #loak sully #neteyam smut #loak smut #avatar #avatarmen #avatar the way of water #neteyam sully #jake sully smut #avatar smut #headcanon #atwow fanfiction #avatar2 #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan

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cozycottagetarot · 3 months

Text

Your Future In-Laws First Impression of You

Pile 1 🪸 Pile 2 🛩️ Pile 3 ☔️

Notes:

This reading covers Your future in-laws (married or long-term partner) first impression of you as well as how they receive you. It's purely for entertainment purposes only. Take what only what resonates be it some, all or none.

I've been feeling mildly scatterbrained when it comes to organising my thoughts and I didn't have the mental capacity to design any graphics. Hopefully, this reading is still clear though.

Elle 🍃

Reading Masterlist | Patreon | Paid Readings -- Open 🥂

Photos From Unsplash: Pile 1 image source | Pile 2 image source | Pile 3 image source

PILE 1

What do they think of you?

Cards: Cat’s Claw (Purification), Lion’s Mane (Leadership), Lavender (Weaver), Ace of Swords, King of Cups, Four of Swords

Your in-laws first impression of you is one of being impressed and intrigued. From the cards pulled (including the next section) it feels like your future in-laws will be a very tight-knit family, so your future long-term partner/spouse introducing you is very much a big deal. I feel like it could be at a family gathering or you’re invited to an important event where you meet them there. You could give off the impression of being very regal and revered. I think your future in-laws will be very satisfied with you and see you as exactly what they want for their child/relative. They could also be cautious of you in the sense that you may give off the energy of calm but not to be messed with. They could view you as someone who is very balanced energetically. You could give off an enticing blend of masculine and feminine qualities.

You could also give off the impression of someone whose intelligence comes from observing a situation first. The only card that didn’t quite 'blend' as seamlessly initially for me here is the Four of Swords. You could give off a very unfazed vibe at times… or seem as though you’re uninterested in what’s going on all while simultaneously being on high alert. It could come from past experiences though that leaves you this way and I think your in-laws will be able to pick up on that as well. For others, you could just have this attractive, leadership energy and your in-laws' first impression of you could be “This person is great, but they sound like they need to rest.”

How will they receive you? Cards: Tobacco (Offering) , Arnica (Teacher), Saint John’s Wort (Radiance), Death, Six of Pentacles, The Hermit reversed

Your future in-laws will receive you with open arms. Right off the bat they’re going to take you in and share with you their wisdom and their love. Even if you and your in-laws may have differences, they’ll show you from the start that they are willing to get to know who you are and build a relationship with you. For them, your presence welcomes the start of a new beginning in their family. I feel like your in-laws may be very traditional but also open. They will want to help nurture you. For some of you, they may give a physical gift for you or offer you an opportunity of some kind.

PILE 2

What do they think of you? Cards: Rosemary (ancient memory), Gingko (breakthrough), Psilocybin (commune), Knight of Cups, Two of Swords, The Emperor, Knight of Wands

If you were drawn to pile 1, you could consider checking out that pile as well after.

I don’t know if you’re sleepy or what pile 2, but something to do with sleep is coming through for you. I figured maybe some of you may meet your in-laws at night, for others you may have an intense intellectual energy and it’s like “Wow, does this person ever sleep?” Your in-laws may see you as someone charming, playful or good fun, but overall super focused and fixated on a specific thing. For some of you, you may not have the best social skills? You might say things that catch them off guard, but I don’t think they’ll think less of you for it. Your person could have a big family, so there may be many in-laws you meet. They definitely see you as committed to what you set your mind to and that when you make a decision about something, it’s not one you make lightly. You give your all to projects and people. They may see you as a visionary, someone with lots of wisdom and brilliant ideas. I think that you might even influence them, if not completely change their perspective on a matter. If there are children around you may interact with them well, almost like a mentor and I think your future in-laws will be pleased with that. You may not directly interact with them when they form their first impression of you, they may simply observe you from a distance. For others, it could be that you flit back and forth between intellectual intensity that makes you seem older than you are one minute and embodying a child-like sense of wonder and whimsiness that makes you see younger the next.

How will they receive you? Cards: Rose (love), Cannabis (detachment), Tulsi (wealth), 10 of Cups, Page of Swords, 6 of Wands

*If you’re struggling with anxiety or sleep, there’s a message here to take time and care around cultivating inner calm. Quick fixes might do more harm than good currently.

There’s not one uniform energy here, like I mentioned before, it feels like various people I’m picking up on (so forgive me if this feels slightly scattered). For some, they might seem a little bit detached or unexpressive but they like you. It could be that they quite honestly didn’t want to like you but they do, or the initial getting to know one another might be rocky before you finally get to a point where it's like "yeah, y/n is pretty great.". Regardless, you’ll feel welcomed and you’ll be received with grace. I’m also picking up on some may want to get on your good side because they see you as someone successful or capable of great success so they may try to wow you. They may want to learn from you as well. I definitely pick up on someone seeking you out in hopes that you’ll teach them about something. They may welcome you by striking up a conversation.

PILE 3

What do they think of you? Cards: Palo Santo (Guardian), Jergón Sacha (Transfiguration), Chamomile (Inner Peace) reversed Four of Wands reversed, Ace of Swords, Two of Wands

It's not quite clear who's energy is what but I did my best. I think both you and your future in-laws may kind of flip back and forth feeling the same way about each other because I did pull some cards to represent your impression of your in-laws and was getting the same vibes and their impression of you.

There are multiple scenarios here so I split it up into bullet points.

Your future in-laws might need a minute to process who you are (aesthetic/interest-wise). (I also got they may need a couple years to come to terms with you? 😭 However, editing this it could have been that it took them a while to come to terms with their child/relative's type?)

I think you take everything they expect and flip it on their head, for better or worse.

I don’t sense any malice, but I definitely think that they may feel slightly avoidant of you at first? I don’t know why but I keep envisioning when you watch those movies and there’s someone coming over and the couple is in a panic and trying to act natural… I’m not sure that makes sense, but that’s what I keep getting. It’s not like 'Oh, we don’t like this person’. It’s more of an "X is coming and I didn’t have enough time to mentally prepare’. Some people just have a big personality, and even if you do like them you just kind of need to prepare yourself for them still 😅

For some of you, it could be that they’re worried you’ll lead their child/relative down a path they don’t agree with??? There’s fear here and the words aren’t coming out right because your in-laws like I said may not be able to immediately process you. I just get this weary sense, and that they know well enough there is no need to be weary of you.

Another possibility that comes to me is your person/future spouse may have also been one of those kids that leave their parents stressed 24/7 (like my sister), so your future in-laws try to run every scenario through their head trying to prepare themselves for what their child's partner could be like. They could also be relieved that you’re nothing like what they expected.

It could also be that they could feel like you’re the one who's guarded and has a wall up, or you’re anxious about meeting them and they pick up on that?

How will they receive you? Cards: Ashwagandha (purpose), Ginseng (magician), Sage (blessing), Mandrake (sensuality) The Magician, The Hierophant, Queen of Swords

While I was pulling the cards, “I’ll Make a Man Out of You” from Mulan suddenly started ‘playing’ in my head. Your future in-laws may kind of see you as their pet project of sorts. Not like you need fixing in any way, you might just seem like a good candidate for something one or both of your in-laws have in mind. Good or bad thing that’s on a case-by-case basis. You’ve got the hierophant and magician and for whatever reason, the imagery especially kind of put that in my head. They may have certain rules or values that they will communicate are important to them. Those two cards, as well as the queen of swords, are all holding an item and I heard a 'talking stick'?? Maybe it means something to someone or maybe I just need to rest lol. I think your in-laws will do their best to form a relationship with you. One thing that definitely feels evident is that they will know you’re their child/relative's person. Their initial feelings from their impression of you may completely switch when it comes to interacting with you. They’ll put a genuine effort into getting to know you, and not just a courtesy get-to-know-you type of interaction. They genuinely want to connect with you and understand you. They’ll try to release any preconceived notions towards you and they may even verbalise this as well.

#pick a card #pick a pile #pac reading #pick a card reading #pick a picture #pick a pile reading #tarot reading #pac #future spouse tarot reading #cozycottagetarot

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mizading · 6 months

Text

Taking Care of Sick JJK Men

╰┈➤ {Characters} : Satoru Gojo, Kento Nanami, Suguru Geto.

╰┈➤ {Warnings} : None

Satoru Gojo:

With a sick Satoru, you’ll be greeted with his sniffles and strong arms clinging to your waist as soon as the sun rises. Little groans and complaints would leave his lips to get your attention. (He’s an attention whore.)

Satoru would whine endlessly about how sick he felt, pleading for you to miraculously make him feel better. A little pout is permanent on Satoru’s face. He’s always excessively moody when he feels sick.

As if his complaints weren't enough, Satoru has no shame, clinging and kissing all over you as if he won't get you ill as well. It’s Satoru’s way of self-soothing when he’s grumpy and feeling under the weather.

No matter how much you complain or push him off, Satoru will come right back, holding you tighter than before. It’s not like he wants to get you sick; he just can't keep his hands to himself to save his life.

Like the big baby he is, Satoru will beg and beg for you to make him homemade soup. Be prepared to spoon it to him if you make some.

Cuddles, cuddles, cuddles. Most of the day will be spent in different cuddling positions. Satoru doesn’t care how hot or sweaty you two eventually get; he refuses to let go. Big spoon or little spoon, he doesn’t care as long as he gets his cuddles.

Despite how high his fever is, Satoru insists on taking at least one bath. Baths with you always soothe him. Telling him no is useless; Satoru always gets what he wants.

Nothing in this world could ever make Satoru happier than sitting in the bath between your legs with you washing and massaging his hair. He loves how delicate you are when you scrub his sick body.

Satoru likes to be sung to softly once back in bed with you. He doesn’t care what you sound like; you sound beautiful to him regardless. Satoru feels safe when he’s able to nuzzle his head into your chest and listen to your gentle voice.

Satoru feels at ease being vulnerable and treated like a human being after spending his entire life being treated as nothing more than the strongest.

Sick days with Satoru aren’t easy, but you’ll do anything and everything for him because he’ll do the exact same and more for you.

Kento Nanami:

Much like Geto, Nanami keeps to himself when he’s sick. He doesn’t believe that it's your responsibility to take care of him, no matter the circumstances.

It’s quite hard to tell when Nanami is sick; he refuses to let a “minor bug” hinder his performance. Unfortunately for Nanami, this “minor bug” forced him to call out of work early.

Nanami shuts you out when he comes home, constantly reminding you to stay away for your own good. You’re stubborn, and of course you weren’t going to let your husband suffer sick alone.

You still respect Nanami’s wishes and manage to keep a small distance between you two while taking care of him simultaneously. When you help Nanami take his work uniform off and pepper his bare back with kisses, he wanted to marry you all over again.

A hot shower with you is a must. All Nanami wants is to hug your body close and let the droplets of hot water patter on you two. A little back massage in the process would melt his poor heart. Nanami knows that he’s not keeping a safe distance, but he can’t seem to care at the moment. He’s more than willing to take days off of work just to care for you if you get sick as well.

Getting Nanami to lay down or sit down is quite hard. He has a hard time giving his body a break. The only way that you can get him to lay down is if you offer him cuddles. At this point, any attempts at keeping distance are thrown out the window.

Nanami becomes extra soft when he’s sick. He’ll spend hours on end laying in bed with his eyes closed, telling you why he loves you. Even after hours of him explaining, he still can’t tell you every reason why you’re the only woman he’ll ever love.

Nanami considers being sick a perfect time to simply catch up and talk. The conversations will range from his high school days to what he thinks happens after death. He might even throw in a random book from his collection to read to you.

Being in such a weak state reminds Nanami that a full life isn’t guaranteed. He’ll bring up his plans for the future with you once he retires. Even if living a full life isn’t guaranteed, he’ll do everything in his power to guarantee a future in Malaysia with you before it’s too late.

Suguru Geto:

Suguru has a bad habit of keeping quiet when he’s sick. He doesn’t want you to risk getting sick yourself while taking care of him. Suguru would much rather suffer in silence if it meant keeping you safe and healthy. This poor boy will hide from you in the house, purposely looking down when you’re near.

You only notice that Suguru is sick when you catch him slugging around the house with a red nose and tired eyes when he thinks you’re gone. That would explain why the full tissue box was almost empty within 2 hours. He’ll refuse to admit that he’s sick, but you know better.

Without question, you immediately come to the rescue, dragging Suguru back to the bed with a thermometer and water bottle in your hand. He knows that he’s been caught and won't be able to keep you from getting sick now.

As much as Suguru doesn’t want you to risk getting sick, he absolutely loves your gentle care. It’ll take a few hours of convincing for Suguru to finally let you care for him without pushing you away. His weak state makes it easier for you to force him to comply.

Due to how soft Suguru's voice naturally is, he loses his voice 9/10 times when he gets sick. It melts your heart to hear him ask for favors in a little whisper. He finds it embarrassing, but you convince him otherwise. Suguru thinks it's so sweet and strange that you find almost everything about him in his sick state cute.

Suguru doesn’t ask for much out of fear of burning you out. He tends to keep to himself. With enough harassment, you’ll eventually get him to tell you his needs. Lucky for him, you always give him what he needs and more without him having to ask. He can’t believe how lucky he is sometimes. What did a man like him do to deserve such an angel?

He wouldn’t dare ask you for affection in the state he’s in, even if he wanted it so so badly. His eyes scanning your body constantly, unfortunately, gave him away. Without hesitation, you'll give Suguru more love than he can handle.

You can’t help but smother Suguru with your affection. You have no concern about getting sick yourself. Your priority is making your baby feel better.

Suguru is an adorable mess when he’s sick. He’ll never take your love and care for granted.

Banner Credits: Cafekitsune

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jjk headcanons #jjk x reader #geto headcanons #nanami kento #nanami headcanons #nanami x reader #gojo x you #geto x reader #gojo headcanons #anime #jjk nanami #kento nanami #satoru gojo #geto suguru x reader

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alleiwentcrazy · 1 year

Text

The point is, Steve can’t hear.

A person can get hit in the head only so many times before it takes effect and does permanent damage. Steve’s incessant claims that being in the front row when the fight breaks down does nothing to him, that he’s safe and alright as long as everyone else is, mean very little in the face of cold, evident facts.

His hearing isn’t intact. It takes him a while to adjust to this reality, but with the help of his friends, he eventually does. Thanks to Nancy’s fierce bullying of the government guys who come to Hawkins to assess the situation and cook up some half-assed excuse for everything that’s happened, Steve now has a small army of well-paid doctors that really seem to be eager to help. He also gets state-of-the-art hearing aids that, well—they work, but Steve’s range of possibilities is still quite narrow. Let a few people into the room, let them speak simultaneously and all he can hear is static, rustles and crackling.

But he’s pliant. He listens when Robin tells him they have to get in the car and hit the road to get to his appointment on time. He lets her help with inserting the aids properly on the days he’s just too impatient and too bugged about how they feel and look to even care if they help him hear. He’s not dismissing her enthusiasm when she starts learning sign language before he even gets a chance to discuss it as his option.

He’s doing a lot of things for her, even if they’re supposed to be important to him first. To be honest, these days it’s mostly doing things for Robin that keeps him going. He would have gone completely numb ages ago if it weren’t for her and her unique ways of picking up the severed pieces whenever he crumbles.

He’s also doing it for Dustin. If Robin is his twin sister, Dustin is the little brother he’s never had. And Dustin… It’s just been too rough on him. It’s been rough on everyone; how could it not be if the only thing they seem to be able to do is wait? Wait for the lab guys to figure out a way to end this. Wait for the panic to cease. Wait for Max to wake up.

Wait for the grief to pass.

They wait and wait, but it never stops—on the contrary, it brings fresh, equally unwanted feelings. They’re always there, lurking behind the corner like a kitten that wants to launch itself at an unsuspecting owner – only with them, there won’t be any playtime involved. Steve recognizes this feeling. It’s the same feeling he’d had in that Winnebago when he was dropping off Max, Lucas and Erica at Creel’s doorstep. An awful anticipation of doom waiting to happen.

He doesn’t like it. He’d like to find a way to do something about it, but he can’t seem to get to the core of it.

Maybe that’s why he thinks he’s hearing things when he really can’t be hearing them.

At first, Steve writes it off as him being paranoid. It happens only when he’s home by himself, so it’s the only logical explanation – he takes off his aids, he gets too attentive about his surroundings, right? He thinks he hears something, but it’s only his tired mind playing tricks on him.

Especially because what he hears are mostly usual, non threatening things. The sound of water running in the bathroom (he goes inside, everything is dry and quiet). The sound of kitchen drawers being opened (he goes to the kitchen, the cabinets are exactly the way he left them). The sound of cutlery being dropped on the floor (but he hasn’t even taken anything out in the first place).

He even gets used to it. Things happen, his brain is weird. It’s confusing, sure, but hasn’t he seen worse things? He definitely has.

But it doesn’t keep him away from sleeping with his bat perched on the side of the bed. If he sleeps at all, if a sudden sound of breaking glass doesn’t keep him awake until his morning shift with Robin, when he can finally leave this goddamn house and take his mind off of things.

Steve tries to ignore it. He really tries, but the point is—Steve can’t hear things like running water in the bathroom when his aids are off. Hell, he only makes it out if he focuses on it when they’re in, so why the heck can he hear it so well? Why are the sounds multiplying?

It goes on for weeks. He avoids the topic for as long as possible, trying to shoo away the obvious similarities between his house and the house that made him hate spiders and cringe at fireplaces not too long ago.

It gets a little too real on just some random Tuesday, when his kitchen positively explodes with sounds the second he gets the hearing aids off. Cabinet doors slam left and right, mugs fall to the floor and shatter, forks and spoons seem to be getting thrown around like ragdolls—but Steve sees nothing. He hears it, he hears it so loudly it hurts, the cacophony of noises he’s never even heard before, but his eyes register no proof of it. He curls down on the floor, expecting sharp glass pieces to cut his skin, but nothing happens. Nothing’s here.

He still covers his head, tucked away in the furthest corner of the kitchen, waiting for it to just stop, to leave him alone—

Steve doesn’t know how long it takes, but when it’s finally done, his knees are shaky and his breathing is ragged. He snatches his aids and takes off, straight to Robin’s house. He doesn’t even lock the door, a thing his parents would kill him for if they knew.

It’s the first time he explains everything to her. It would be hard not to, because she sees right through him. His panicked, restless eyes are enough indication of things not being right.

“Maybe, uh—I think I’ve read something about hearing loss and auditory hallucinations? That they happen, sometimes, especially if the loss of hearing is sudden?” she says, already flipping through her notebook where she keeps all Steve-related stuff and pacing around the room with enough force to make a hole in the carpet.

Steve’s not convinced. “It seems pretty real to me,” he mumbles and frowns. “But that’s the point of it, right?”

Robin shrugs. He notices that she has a small set of wrinkles around her eyes. Steve looks at them for a second in total disbelief. They already have some worry wrinkles, and they’re not even well into their twenties.

He’s gonna lose all his precious hair in a span of months if this doesn’t stop.

They decide to bring it up during his next appointment, still hoping that it’ll maybe go away on its own. Robin tries to make him get a consult straight away (what if it is rabies after all, Steve, like a really really really weird, belated presentation of rabies?), but he waves it off. The option of hallucinations doesn’t soothe his nerves, but as long as it’s not a chiming clock, he can avoid confronting it for a while longer.

It doesn’t go away, though. Steve can’t quite pinpoint it, but it almost feels like—well, it obviously doesn’t feel like it’s real enough to be real. But there’s something that accompanies the sounds, the lack of evidence, the missing of this ominous feeling that Creel’s house inflicted on him.

The sounds—it feels like they bear a presence. Steve’s still scared and gets spooked by them whenever they happen, but he’s no longer truly afraid of them.

Some of them are even comforting. The sound of his pillow being fluffed up before he gets to bed, the sound of pen scratching on paper whenever he leaves his journal open on the desk, the whooshing sound of a lighter being opened and closed – they all make this eerie place his parents have left him a little less empty.

He rarely lets himself think about it that way. He may be a little kooky, but admitting that he’s lonely enough to find hallucinations comforting would be way too much to handle at the moment.

So Steve can’t hear, but he learns to accept the fact that, apparently, sometimes he can. He doesn’t know how it works—to be quite honest he doesn’t know a lot about experiencing hearing loss at all, despite now being hard of hearing himself—but it just makes its place in his life.

He thinks about it a lot, but he tries not to overthink it too hard. It just happens. Things fall to the floor in his house, curtains get torn, the fridge gets opened frequently. He just can’t see it. His mind hears it, but his eyes don’t get the memo. He lives for longer than a week. It’s probably a good sign; nothing’s going to make his bones snap in two now, probably. Hopefully.

Things change suddenly.

Steve tries to spend as much time with Dustin as possible. Between work, his appointments and Robin, Dustin, Max and the kids are his top priority. He doesn’t think he would be able to function if he let himself take a breath and step down from his piled up responsibilities that he chose to take on himself. They keep him together. They keep him going.

Besides, Mrs. Henderson gets really worried. Sometimes it’s just better for Dustin to stay with Steve, and Steve is more than happy to be with him, even though it seems that Dustin doesn’t really like his cold house either.

It’s one of Dustin’s quiet days. He gets them, sometimes—Steve knows that trying to get him to talk on one of those days is a lost cause, and his ears are killing him. He was in such a hurry this morning he didn’t take the time to put the aids in properly. Work was overflowing with people, too, so now his temples are throbbing from trying to pick up the chatter from the static. Seriously, how is it possible that people still spend so much time watching movies in the face of almost-apocalypse, Steve doesn’t know.

“Would you mind if I took my aids off for a while?”

“Go ahead,” Dustin mumbles, bending over his new book.

Something flips inside Steve’s chest. He knows it’s not supposed to be like that, it’s unlike Dustin to be so… not himself. But what can Steve do? He can’t make him talk. He can just wait, nothing else.

He gets up to leave his aids on the counter and pour himself some coffee. He should probably start making dinner soon, but he decides to take a few peaceful sips first.

It’s weird. To sit with Dustin Henderson, of all people, without a single word. Steve glances at him every once and again, but Dustin either ignores him or genuinely forgets that he’s there.

Steve’s so deep in his thoughts about Dustin, he doesn’t even look to the side when a sudden sound of kitchen chair toppling over cuts through the silence. His eyes are trained on the kid.

Who flinches. And frowns. Steve can swear that he fights the urge to look around.

Each and every chair Steve keeps in the kitchen is standing where he placed them in the morning after breakfast. Nothing real has happened. But Steve heard it. And, apparently, Dustin did too.

Steve’s brain is working overtime for the rest of the evening, and he desperately tries not to show any of it. He’s jumping into conclusions. It was an accident; dumb luck. It’s nothing. He’s working himself up, nonsensically.

But it doesn’t feel like it’s nothing. It was only one chair, one sound, but the feeling that accompanied it was strong. Too strong to be nothing.

He waits to drop Dustin off at home like he’s on pins and needles, fumbling with his fingers and keys and pacing around. Maybe it’s better that it’s one of Dustin’s quiet days, he mostly gets away with it, getting only a few side glances.

When gets back home, it’s late, but he’s buzzing with anticipation nonetheless. He can finally do something. He discards his aids haphazardly, not nearly as carefully as he should, and starts running around the house. The house his parents built is huge—but the kitchen turns out to be quite small when he’s finally done with arraying at least a dozen lamps there. He has to raid three of his father's garages to get enough extension cords.

When he turns them on all at once, he has to take a step back and shut his eyes, because it’s too much light.

Just the right thing he needs.

His heart is beating so fast he can almost feel it ramming against his ribs. That’s about how far he’d thought this plan through.

“Come on,” he says and clears his throat, trying to gauge how his voice may really sound now. He repeats himself, hoping that it’s louder this time.

Nothing happens for a while, but he knows he’s close. The feeling is here. The presence that hasn’t left him in months. It’s here.

Steve walks around the kitchen, moves the lamps a little, shakes some of them. His hands are clammy and it feels like he’s chewed through his cheek at this point, but he can wait. He’s waited for a long time. He can wait a while longer.

When the microwave beeps, he stops breathing for a second.

Until it beeps again. And again.

“Oh god,” he breathes. He doesn’t know if he speaks clearly or not, he doesn’t even care. “Come on, show me that it’s you. Come on, come on—”

The lamp furthest to the left starts blinking, slowly at first. Then the one next to it, then another one, and another one, like someone’s walking around and making them flicker one by one.

They’re blinking so much one of the bulbs goes out. Steve doesn’t hear it hiss, so he knows it went out here, now. He knows it’s real.

“Oh god,” his hand goes to his mouth. His eyes are weirdly itchy. “Oh god, is it really you, Eddie?”

The lamp directly in front of Steve goes wild. When he reaches out, it’s almost like he can touch the presence that’s here with him.

And it’s Eddie. Eddie’s here with him.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #is he a ghost??? is he a zombie????#a vamp- is he a vampire?!?!?!?!?!?#well he's definitely a creature #robin buckley #dustin henderson #dustin and his dads #!!!!!#steddie #stranger things #st4 #fix it fic #of sorts???? at least a beginning of one #im telling you people.... there are explanations #hard of hearing steve harrington #hoh!steve #platonic stobin #because i love them

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non-stop-imagines · 3 months

Text

Wedding Night

From this request 🤍

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Black Fem!Reader

Summary: In which it's your's and Charles' wedding night.

Word Count: ~4.9k words

Warning: Smut (p in v; the fluffiest smut I've ever written and I'm a big ol' softy), fingering, oral (fem receiving), accidental orgasm denial, aftercare, reader first time, Charles is very sweet and caring, words virgin/virginity NOT used but obviously implied, Wife used a quite a bit, online translator French, Minors DNI!!! 18+

A/N: Haha! See told you all I could do it! You guys have been so supportive and caring I literally have absolutely no idea how to thank you. I'm just glad I can finally get this out and that reading it back didn't make me cringe as much as I though it would. Hopefully like I said in the past, this sparks my motivation, but for now I'm just gonna do this one step at a time. Thank you to the anon who requested this. Thank you everyone for your patience and kindness. Hope you all enjoy! Love you all! 💖💛💖💛

Translations: ma femme=my wife; d'accord=okay; Pour votre mari=for your husband;Tu es tellement serrée, ma chère=you're so tight, my dear;Je t'aime tant, ma femme=I love you so much, my wife;Ma belle, très belle femme=my beautiful, beautiful wife

Masterlist

______♥______

You were a vision to Charles as you stood in the entry to the en suite bathroom in the Honeymoon suite you two were staying in for the night before whisking away to Italy for your honeymoon. You were only in a simple white, lacy lingerie set gifted to you by your best friend who had the joy of being your maid of honor. As she gifted it, she teased you lightly about your wedding night being your first time and that she "Doesn't expect it to last the night with how long you made Charles wait."

"Cherie, you look...wow." Charles, already just in his underwear, admired you from where he stood across the room. When you two first got to the room you were quick to start the process of stripping down while making out, but your brain was swirling with nerves you decided it was best for you to take leave to the bathroom to finish stripping and adjusting the set you had on, so in that time Charles took the liberty of stripping down to his underwear as well. As he approached you, he eyes danced rapidly over your body, grinning at how innocent and nervous your widened brown eyes made your face look, how the lace gracing your brown skin made you look even more delicate than usual. You were an angel. His angel. His wife.

"You really like it?" You were simultaneously closed and open to him with your feet twisting inward and your posture curling in on itself but your arms wrapped behind your back. Charles steadily made his way towards you and gently brought your arms to wrap around his torso so he could bring his hands to your jaw to lift your head up to meet his lips for a short kiss.

"Yes. Of course. You look beautiful, ma femme." He moved his hands to your shoulder to pull you in even closer and began peppering kisses along your jaw, leading down your neck so he could leave love bites at the base of your neck where it leads to your shoulder and collarbone. He uses his tongue to soothe each bite he leaves, a feeling that you've loved from the beginning and that has been the high point of many make out sessions through 2 and a half years you and Charles dated. He adjusted your arms, bringing them up to wrap around his neck so he's able to bring his hands to your waist to pull you in closer with each heavenly sounding mewl you let out. He begins to walk you backwards to the bed, switching to the other side of your neck to continue his love bite assault. The feeling of the bed on the back of your legs was your only indication that you two had made it to your destination, and with out breaking the contact his lips had on your skin, he lowered you onto the white sheets of the hotel sheets, the heavy comforter tossed out of the way, and only then did he back stop his relentless attack on your neck and to hover over you, eyes taking a minute to admire all of your features.

"You're my husband." Your smile up at him was full of pure joy, attracting Charles to lower down to give you another deep kiss. The realization made you warm and fuzzy, and allowed your nerves to subside briefly.

"And you're my beautiful wife. And I finally get to make my wife feel so good." He seemed to moan out the second sentence, contining to kiss along your collarbone and making his way down the valley between your breasts. "Is this okay?" You nod to him, meeting his gaze as he waited at your chest. "I need you to speak, Cherie."

"Oh, um, yes. That-that's fine." You hold intense eye contact with your husband as he pushes down one of the cups of your bra, freeing your boob and sensually kissing around your nipple before taking the nub in his mouth, tongue swirling around it. It took a moment for the feeling to register, you brain initially focusing on how exposed you were, how you've never been this exposed to another person before, but once his tongue began to work around your nipple, your head was thrown back into the bed as you pushed your chest up into Charles mouth, quiet, airy moans escaping your lips.

"Feels good?" The smile Charles' shines up at you when you turn your attention back to him has you melting, or at least that's what you convinced yourself as you feel warmth and moisture begin to develop between your legs.

"Mhmm, so good." You push your chest back up to him and the vibration that comes with his chuckle as he begins to suck at your chest again has you moaning a bit louder. This action continues a bit longer, with him switching to your other breast to give it equal attention but soon his lips leave your chest continue down yours stomach.

Anytime Charles wasn't focusing on an action, his eyes were trained on yours, trying to gauge how you're feeling and in general getting lost in the haze of your chocolate eyes. So, as he kissed down your torso, his blue eyes never left your face, and yet his kisses were placed perfectly. His lips lingered for a moment at the top of your pelvis, pressing a long kiss at the hem of your panties before continuing down, skipping over your pussy and reconnecting his lips to your inner thigh.

"I'm going to move these over, amor. Okay?" Charles' voice was just above a whisper as his piercing eyes waited for a response. Truthfully he was dying to taste you. If he wasn't waiting for your approval he would've already been tongue deep in you, the growing wet spot from your arousal on your underwear not making it any easier for him. But he was patient, pressing intermittent kisses to your upper inner thigh as he waited.

"O-okay..." Your hands immediately went to grip the pure white bedsheets beneath you, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering up a frenzy. Your first instinct to bury your head in the sheets beneath you as well, just wanting to get everything over with, but against your better judgement, you kept your eyes on Charles, lips slightly parted as you watched him smile brightly up at you before focusing his attention on your covered pussy again. He darted his tongue out to lightly lick his lips as he took one finger and hooked it onto the damp white fabric, moving it to the side to finally expose you to him, pussy glistening from your juices. The sight was nearly hypnotic to him, eyes tracing along your folds, enticing him to at least reach out a touch you...

"Wait! Charles?" You called to him panicked, making him stop in his tracks and focus his attention back on your, now visibly worried, face.

"Oui, mon amour?" Charles props himself up onto his elbow a bit more so you weren't having to look down between your legs to speak to him.

"What, um, what are you gonna do?" Your view of Charles was borderline sinful, his pupils dilated, lips glistening and swollen from their relentless attack down your body, hair askew, and all of the love and adoration he had for you shining through his gaze up at you. You loved this man so much.

"I just wanted to taste you, ma cherie. But if you don't want me to..." You could tell by the way Charles shifted his body, he was about to move back up your body, but you stop him, literally putting your hand out to stop him.

"No, I just was wondering. Please, Charlie...keep going." Yout hand gravitates to his hair, lightly pushing some of it back. You could have photographed and framed the smile Charles gave you before he rehooked his arms around your thighs, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him, and dove in. He had to fight hard to keep himself from devouring you like a starved man, but he slowed himself down, allowing his tongue to slowly drag through your labia, circle around your clit and end in a light suck on the nub.

Charles wished his brain could record and store the moans and whimpers you let out upon initial contact. Your hips immediately started to buck toward the sensation of his tongue, surprised, high pitched moans being pushed from your diaphragm. One of your hands that initially had a death grip on the sheets had let go and flown straight to his hair, pushing him into your cunt even more. He was amused at your sudden eagerness, humming out a chuckle that sent a vibration through you pussy and caused a shocked squeal to be pulled from you.

"It's good?" Charles disconnects his mouth from you, using a hand to continue to rub your clit. You didn't think the image of him between your legs could get even more pornographic, but seeing his wide blue eyes and bright, satisfied smile with the welcome addition of your juices coating his lips and chin was a different level. Even still, you had no idea how much Charles was basking in this moment, finally being able to taste you, hear your moans and screams. He was finally able to satisfy you and he wanted to make sure you enjoyed it.

"Yes...fu- so good. So good. Please keep going, baby." Charles didn't hesitate to go back to tasting you, putting extra focus on your clit, letting the long languid licks up your entire entrance be small breaks in the intense feeling resulting from his devoted attention to the body part that had your toes curling and your thighs threatening to close in on your husband.

"Can I use my fingers on you?" The question was abrupt, and while you were slightly aware of the multitude of ways to satisfy yourself, fingers wasn't one you ever thought to try. Charles saw the confusion in your face and lifted back on to his elbows but still allowed his fingers to test your entrance. "I'll go slow. One at a time. And you tell me if your don't like it or want me to stop, bon?" His hand continued to move, the gentleness of his words and the care in his eyes were enough to quell your nerves again for you to nonverbally answer him. "Words, amor. Speak to me."

"Oh, yeah. Um, yes, that's fine." You giggle nervously, and smile with Charles before he goes back down to place gentle kisses on your inner upper thigh, closer to your pussy but still allowing him to see your face as he pushes in his middle finger. Your eyes initially widened at the feeling, the small amount of stretch that comes with his finger being pressed inside you, but the pleasure that sets in and when he begins to slowly pump it in and out had your rolling your head and eyes back letting out a strangled whine.

"That's it, mon amor. Make your pretty noises for me. Pour votre mari." Charles goes back to sucking on your clit, incorporating the feeling that already had you seeing spots before he began stretching you out with his fingers. You didn't know what you expected from Charles in this moment, but it wasn't this. He was soft, dominant, patient, with the slightest bit of frantic feralness that show how bad he wanted this. To finally get to be with you in the most intimate way, and as his wife no less. This was an absolute dream to him, and you could tell from his performance.

"Oh, oh Charles..." This initially comes out as a silky moan, ringing like a silver bell in Charles' ears, but it slowly got more frantic and panicked as your hips began to buck into Charles' face like they had a mind of their own. It was like all of your senses were heightened, a sharp pleasureable feeling pushing against a proverbial dam that was starting to burst open. "Charles, Charles. Wait! Wait!" Charles heads your warning, immediately stopping and removing his fingers and mouth from you, pushing himself up from the bed so he was still kneeling between your legs. Your hips continued to buck uncontrollably, eyes squeezing shut and hands gripping the sheets, nails threatening to tear through them, fighting what could only be an orgasm you weren't prepared for.

"Are you alright, cherie?" Charles crawls his way back up the bed, kissing and nipping at your neck again. He smelled like you, and while knowing that was odd to say the least, you couldn't deny that it was freaking sexy.

"Yeah. Um, I just-what was-" Charles had crawled up to lay at your side pulling you into him by your waist, caressing your side as his thigh got slightly to close to your excessively sensitive pussy.

"I think you were about to cum, mon amor. Why didn't you let yourself?" He pushed some of your hair that had stuck to your sweating face back behind your ear, smiling at the fucked out, doe eyed face you made, brown skin hiding a slight blush from the general over heating of your body.

"I've never- when ever I did try-you know, um, grinding on my pillow or whatever- I felt so silly cause I didn't know what I was doing so I stopped before anything got too...intense." You had since squeezed your thighs shut, still slightly sensitive from your accidentally denied orgasm, but still wet and aroused, mind making note of the feeling of his bulge against the front of your thigh and briefly flashing to the thought of him inside you, what it would feel like.

"You shouldn't have felt silly, mon amor. I'm just glad you feel you can tell me about it..." He tilts your head up so he could kiss your nose then allowed himself to get lost in your eyes as he took a second to think. "I didn't want you to cum then anyway." You couldn't help but be confused by his confession.

"Well then how..." You realized the answer to your own admittedly stupid question quickly, earning you another kiss on the nose and then one on the forehead.

"You're very cute, you know that?" He lifts your chin up further so he's able to go back to kissing you, first a simple singular kiss, then it became slow and sensual, like you were his favorite flavor of ice cream. Your brain always got clouded whenever he initiated deep makout sessions like this, but this was amplified 10-fold. You don't know when his lips began to trail down your abdomen, but all of a sudden he was back at your the hem of your lacy lingerie underwear, hooking his fingers in them prepared to pull down. "I'm gonna take these off, okay?"

"Okay..." Your voice was just over a whisper, just loud enough for Charles to make out your word allowing him to remove your underwear, the cool hotel room air hitting your glistening pussy, and somehow making you wetter. Charles pushes himself off the bed with his knees to remove his own undergarment, and you propped up on your elbows, gnawing at your bottom lip as you watched. You've seen very few penises in your life, usually on accident and you would quickly avert your eyes, but Charles' had your full attention. It was...pretty? There wasn't much of a difference in color since he was already a bit paler him self, and the tip was about the color of his lips, a muted light pink, but with a ting of red. The tip was slightly shiny and your eyes were focusing enough to notice a bead of a thick liquid begin to slide down his cock head as he finished stepping out of his boxers. Your eyes followed the bounce of his dick as he moved, the underlying logistical question slowly making its way into your brain.

"You look worried, ma cherie. Are you okay? Do you want to stop?" He began to crawl he way back up your body, hands anchoring themselves on the bed right above your shoulders, eyes doing nothing but raking over your face again and again, being extra vigilant in looking for any sign of hesitation or just generally wanting to stop.

"No, no. I definitely do NOT want to stop. I'm just a little...scared. I don't want it to hurt." The face you were making as you voiced your concerns, eyebrows scrunched and lips a bit poutier than their normal fullness, gave Charles no choice but to give you light kisses in both places. Despite your worries, your core betrayed you, getting that much wetter as you thought about the act, especially with Charles dick so close to it.

"And it shouldn't hurt. Maybe at first a little, definitely never a lot or for a long time. Overall, it should feel good." He leans down to kiss you, lips savoring yours, but he could sense your hesitation. "How about...colors?" An immediate look of confusion graced your features, making Charles explain further. "Like, you tell me 'Red' to stop and... 'Pink' to wait a moment. It's a little more familiar, less serious than saying the actual words but still has the same effect. Is that okay with you?" You eyebrows unknotted and your eyes averted the intense, loving gaze of your husband as you quietly nodded to the suggestion.

"Yeah, that's fine." You squeaked out as you remembered the earlier instruction you received about using your words. Charles leans down to press another kiss to your lips, then retracts to line himself up with you, running his dick along your soaking wet folds because even through your worry, you could help but be aroused still. The further you got into your relationship with Charles, the more you thought about this feeling, bodies entwined, completely connected in the most intimate way. You still had a knot in your stomach though, fear of the unknown nagging at the back of your mind.

"I'm going to push in, okay." He made sure he was lined up before looking at your face, this time allowing your silent nod to suffice. He brought his head down so his forehead could touch yours and slowly began to push his dick inside of you, both of you watching intently, but once he started his eyes immediately shot back up to your face, you still watching.

First came a snap of pain as you let out a long, agonizing sobbing whine, then the slow increase of pressure, the combination of the 2 feelings having you yelling out "Pink!" before you could even think twice about it. As Charles promised before, his hips paused immediately when he heard the color, lifting his forehead from yours so he could get a good look at you.

"Okay, okay. I'll wait. Let me know when you want me to move again..." Charles was already out of breath just from the restraint he exhibited. You were so warm, so tight around the parts of him that were already inside of you. The feeling was everything he ever dreamed of and he wanted so much more, but his main focus was you. He wanted to do everything in his power to make tonight the best night of your life, and he'll be damned if he does anything to ruin it.

As the pain very quickly subsided, you still had the pressure to adjust to, the surprisingly tantalizing pressure. After that your brain registered the feeling of Charles dick grazing your walls, the points of pleasure that have never been stimulated until this moment, and the points further in that were screaming for there own taste. "Okay, y-you can move." Charles hesitates, scanning your face for doubt he is unable to find, then continues to press his hips forward. Your sobbing whine continues, not because of pain, but because the pleasure you were experiencing from being stretched out by Charles cock, from the delicious pressure on you felt between your hips, feeling all of the intenseness of having sex for the first time, making love to your husband, had your mind going a million miles an hour.

"Are you okay?" Charles had completely bottomed out at this point, adjusting how your legs wrapped around his waist as you squirmed into the feeling, the pressure still something to get used to. Your whine had shifted into a quiet satisfied moan, the sound like music to his ears as he waited for your to say something.

"Charlie, fuck me. Please." Charles was shocked to say the least at your use of vocabulary, but the high-pitched whisper of your voice so beautifully contrasted the nature of your words. And, of course, he had to listen to his wife. So, he slowly began to pull out of you, but was not quite all the way out before he fucked back into you, his own breathy groans making beautiful music with your noises.

"Tu es tellement serrée, ma chère." The default French words strained from his mouth as your brain continued to familiarize itself with the feeling. "How are you feeling, mon amor? Tell me how I make you feel..." You brain recognized the small speed increase of Charles hips, but you didn't care. In fact, you welcomed it.

"It feels so good, baby. So good..." Those last two words echoed from your lips in an increasingly whiny tone, your manicured nails clawing into Charles back, a hiss leaving his mouth as you layed red scratches along his back.

"You feel so good around me, cherie. So tight." Charles moved his hips a bit faster, working against the pleasant resistance, your long, languid, high pitched whines motivating the movement of his hips. He never minded waiting for you, but he has also thought about this moment since the first time he laid eyes on you, and this surpassed anything he could've imagined.

You felt the pressure building again, the frightening over sensitivity as his dick dragged deliciously in and out you and his hips grazed lightly over your swollen clit, causing you to claw over his back even more. This time Charles' words echoed through your brain, telling you to relax, to let it happen. So you let your body relax and feel everything it was feeling, and your brain was turning to mush.

Charles knew you were close. Your walls were beginning to flutter around him, your moans were loud and unabashed, increasingly high-pitched and whiny. You had begun to arch your body into him, hips working fervently to meet each snap of his own. The moment was the most beautiful mixture of you and Charles wanting to please each other, make each other feel the most intense amount of pleasure one could conceivably feel, and it came to its hilt when your cunt began to spasm at an increased uneven rate, your body reflexively clinging tight to Charles as you came for the first time, him closely following suit and emptying himself inside of you, burying his face into your neck as best as he could with yours jammed in the crook of his neck, the vibration of your moans being the only indication of the stifled sound.

Charles tried with all of his power to stay propped up above you, but when he knew he couldn't do it anymore, he did his best to make his fall into hugging your still trembling frame as smooth as possible. He cooed praises into your ear and gently caressed your back as you rode out your orgasm (You did so good for me; Thank you for trusting me; Je t'aime tant, ma femme), and stayed there until your trembling and quiet whines subsided before getting up to head to the bathroom, very quickly cleaning himself up before dampening a small towel with warm water. He then carefully climbed back into bed, gently guiding your body so you sat between his legs, you limp thighs parted enough for him to, for the moment, just place the warm towel over your sore pussy. You protested weakly, body still highly sensitive to his touch, but Charles waited patiently until you allowed him to continue, gently wiping any stickiness from your cunt and inner thighs stopping anytime your hands jolted for his wrist and waiting until the grip loosened. He pressed kisses to your now messed up hair and continued to whisper his devotion to you as he clean you up, also choosing to gently massage your legs and hips while he had you in this position. Once he was able to do this without interruption, he finished cleaning and massaging areas you previously wouldn't let him near and then got back up to toss away the towel and grab one of the many large nightshirts he knew you packed to sleep in, and gently guided you to sit up long enough to pull the shirt over your head and arms before allowing you lay back down, pulling the heavy comforter that got pushed to the side earlier in the night over your tired body. He finished straightenting up some of the room, tossing worn clothes and the used towel in a corner to later be seperated out and washed when you two made it to the vacation home in Italy, pulling on a pair of pajama pants and going on a hunt for a bottle of water somewhere in the large hotel suite. When he got back to the bedroom, two found bottles of water in hand, he was met by the heavnly sight of you, looking at him with wide yet tired eyes, face illuminated by the subtle glow of the dimmed bathroom light, a small grin on your lips silently pleading for him to come to bed. He slowly approached you, wanting to burn the image into his brain for him to be able to go back to in years to follow, taking his time closing the bathroom door so only a sliver of light was left, then handing you the bottle he opened as he walked over for you to take a drink of as he climbed into bed. You tried to get away with only a sip, but he wouldn't lay down until at least half of the bottle was gone.

"After what we just did, you need to hydrate, mon amor." You chuckled and watched him as he downed a majority of his bottle before placing it on the nightstand beside him then turning over to pull you into his chest. He smelled like sex (now that you understood the phrase) and what was left of his sweet, woodsy cologne, and you wished you could bottle it up and save it forever. The room was silent, which felt weird compared to the the animalistic noises that filled it moments before, leaving room for you to think, and sprial into voicing a conclusion that has haunted you since you and Charles began dating.

"I'm sorry." You were quiet, you honestly hoped that Charles didn't hear you, but that hope was slashed when you felt his neck move to tip his head to look at you.

"What are you saying sorry for?" His voice was gentle, but very obviously confused, so you just squeeze your eyes shut and continue.

"For-uhm-making you wait so long..." You had opened you eyes long before your confession, but you did everything you could to avoid eye contact. If there was one thing that made you feel insecure in your relationship, by no one else's fault but your own (and maybe the snide remark from people here and there), it was whether or not you held onto your morals too tight. Whether or not Charles resented you for not trusting him with something this intimate sooner.

"Don't say sorry. There is no reason for sorry. I knew I was going to marry you the moment I met you, so what would it have hurt me to wait?" He let out a polite laugh and kissed your forehead. "Don't ever be sorry for the boundaries you set, d'accord? I just want you to feel safe." Another kiss was pressed onto your head as silence settled over you two again. That is until it was Charles' turn to voice his own nagging concern. "I just hope that it was good for you. That's all I want."

"Charlie, it was better than I could have ever imagined." It was your turn to kiss away his worry, using a hand on his cheek to move his face down for a peck on the lips.

"You can tell the truth. I can take it." He dramatically falls back onto his pillow and turns his head away, failing at stopping the chuckle that ensues. You just climb further on top of him, giggling as well until you both just settled on each other's eyes, nothing else consuming your minds than wanting to crash your lips together, kissing each other as deep as you could until you had to come up for air.

"I'm so happy I got to marry the love of my life." You cuddled back into his chest and begin to let the darkness and the tiredness of your body lull you to sleep.

"I'm happy I got to make the love of my life my wife. Ma belle, très belle femme." One last nuzzle of your head into his chest was all the comfort and reassurance he needed to drift off to sleep himself, the anticipation of the real honeymoon filling both of your dreams.

#formula 1 #black reader #f1 imagines #formula 1 x black!reader #f1 x black!reader #request #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x black!reader #charles leclerc x black reader #charles leclerc #formula one x reader #f1 smut #f1 imagine

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stellar-skyy · 2 months

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hello!! could i order an iced honey and vanilla tea for aventurine?

“order up! i have a drink here for aventurine, an iced honey and vanilla tea!”

☆ — if you're craving a drink, make sure to stop by the teashop!

i. SUMMARY: sometimes, all you need is to feel loved. and, as his closest friend, he will make sure you know you are. ii. CWS & NOTES: reader is insecure. platonic aventurine x gn!reader. hurt/comfort & fluff. 0.8k words. iii. A/N: i was so excited to see someone rq the platonic version of this prompt! also. please know this is my first time writing aventurine and i haven't played most of the penacony questline (i have been spoiled for the entire thing though-) so if the characterization is off i am sorry.

“Why are you friends with me?”

It caught Aventurine off guard, truth be told. For a moment he could only blink, staring at them dumbly while the question fully registered in his head. After a few seconds of processing, he managed a single word: “What?”

“Why are you friends with me?” They repeated, a tinge of frustration coating their words. The question settled in his mind, but still, he was at a loss for words.

How could he possibly answer that, when the two of them had been acquainted for so long that his life and theirs seemed fully intertwined? The question only planted the seed for more to sprout in his mind as he pondered it; whys melting into hows and what ifs. He struggled to imagine a life where he’d never met them all those years ago, a life where he never found someone to dull his sharpened edges and fill some fraction of the emptiness he felt inside.

They were a match that fit too perfectly; two lonely people, who’d tasted a life without solitude and couldn’t quite bring themselves to leave it behind again.

Yet, their friendship was a double-edged sword, one seemed to cut Aventurine from both sides. It took every ounce of self-control in his body to stop himself from digging his claws in and clinging tightly enough to them to make sure they wouldn’t leave. Simultaneously, another part yearned to push them so far away that he would never be able break them like he did with every other bright thing in his life. The thought of being alone again felt suffocating, even if the back of his mind still whispered that it was only his deserved fate.

On good nights, when they were at the tables with him, he insisted they were seated right beside him—his “good luck charm,” as he put it. He chased every moment, the flash of a smile on their lips when the dice roll just right, a barely stifled laugh at his jokes. No victory could outshine the few moments of pure, untainted contentment he felt when they were by his side.

It was almost laughable that they were questioning why he’d chosen them, when he was the one who didn’t deserve someone half as incredible as they were. He should be asking why they had settled for someone cracked and missing as many pieces as he did, not the other way around.

“What about you?” He asked, in lieu of an answer. “Why are you friends with me?”

“I already asked you.” They protested. Aventurine, being the good friend he was, ignored them.

“You’ve known me long enough to be acutely aware of my flaws, and yet you still stick around. Why is that?”

“Uh…” They hesitated for a beat. “You’re not—”

“Don’t deny it. Just answer the question.”

“Well, I guess…” They draw out the first few words, thinking. Aventurine kept his face neutral, despite the pounding of his heart. “Flaws are just flaws, aren’t they? I don’t think you could find a single one here that’s without their fair share. You’re still a good person despite them, and I enjoy your company regardless.”

The back of his throat had grown dry. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to quell the wave of emotions that almost swept him off his feet, forcing them back into the furthest reaches of his mind to unpack later.

“See!” He said, throwing his hands up in the air. “Exactly my point, why would you be any different?”

“That’s not what I was saying.” They murmured, shaking their head.

“What is it then?”

“It’s just… I’m not that important, am I?” They asked, not meeting his eyes. “I mean—You have other friends, don’t you? And if you had the choice, I’m sure you’d rather hang out with them than me, wouldn’t you?”

“You want to make that a bet?” Aventurine raised an eyebrow. “Because, my dear friend, that is a gamble you will lose. For starters, who I find important isn’t up to you; it’s up to me. And me has decided you are an incredibly important friend that I value very deeply. You can stew in your self-pity as much as you want, but that won’t change how much I care about you.”

“You really mean that?” They asked, in an almost inaudible whisper.

“Of course. Can I?” He asked, opening his arms out. They looked up briefly, and gave him a small nod, so he pulled them forward against his chest. He hugged them tightly, as if they would vanish into nothing if he let go. Their hand clutched the back of his jacket, their cheek pressing against his shirt.

Neither of them were without their cracks, it seemed, but maybe that was why they had connected in the first place.

“I’m friends with you because I want to be friends with you,” Aventurine said softly. “You mean the world to me, and it kills me that you don’t realize it.”

He knew he was little more than a hollow shell, but with them, he almost felt whole. It was almost enough for him; he could only hope it would be enough for them too.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #ty mhie for beta reading this!#[ interstellar teashop ☆ﾟ. ]#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #platonic hsr x reader #platonic honkai star rail x reader #platonic aventurine x reader

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ambassadorarlert · 7 months

Text

toxic!armin head canons

author’s note: this fr has been a long time coming. it took a while to gather my thoughts lmao. he can’t be sweet all the time, right??😭

warning: modern au. toxic characteristics — obsession, jealousy, possessiveness. gaslighting.

18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

we're not gonna look away from armin's whole underlying character trait of being a known manipulator. he is going to gaslight you.

armin starts his mind games as a last resort. when he's desperate to have his way. when he's being back into a corner, and you're holding your ground in an argument or disagreement. when you're winning and he's losing. he'll play into his unfortunate-baby face-sweet-boy persona and say, "i'm only telling you/doing this because i love you!" armin slaps, "I don't know what you want me to do." at the end of most arguments because he knows it will make you quit arguing out of pure frustration.

we can all agree armin goes through your phone

he immediately clicks on iMessage to see who you’ve been texting. snoops through everything. pictures, contacts, notes. all of it. armin goes all up in your private dm’s, discord, looks through your snapchats. who you’ve been sending tiktoks to. he’s so extra, he even scrolls on your social media timelines. your dash. your fyp. just to see what you’re always looking and giggling at bc who is making you laugh if it’s not him ? arminknows he won’t find anything and that you would never do anything behind his back. but he looks anyway and holds his breath just in case. and, if he does find something he doesn’t like, he will confront you about it and not even address the bigger question

major attachment issues. in bold, italics and regular size font.

the root cause being his parents died when he was really young and was only raised by his grandpa who worked all the time. /: armin definitely has mommy issues. he's very anxious to pleasure you and do everything you want him to bc a.) he's hopelessly devoted to you b.) for some reason he think it'll make you love him more. armin will get really attached to you after the first date, and everything in your relationship moves quickly. he says i love you first. 3 months into the relationship you’re moving in together. engaged after 1 year, married 6 months later. he’s sensitive and in tune with everything you’re doing and feeling and saying. the slightest change in your voice, oh you must be mad at him. when you're literally just tired and have 0 energy, he must be annoying you. armin needs regular reassurance and validation. he will straight up ask “do you still love me?” at least once a day.

armin gets jealous so. so easily.

armin thinks he's not good enough for you and that you deserve someone who can do the things he can't, while simultaneously not being able to bear the thought of you being with another man. he views other guys as a threat and is off-putting on purpose. he goes through your followers and interactions daily and reports guys who leave compliments and thirsts. he gives guys dirty looks when he see's them obviously looking at you. will ask trap questions like "would you still be with me if you could start your life over?" armin is well liked among your girlfriends but makes no effort with your guy friends, and has succeeded in distancing you from a few of them. he disguises ultimatums as open communication. armin's jealousy is a delicate spectrum.

he's very possessive of you.

you're his everything and he wants everyone to know that. you're so gorgeous, he's not gonna hide you away. armin recognizes that you're your own person, and you can show off however you'd like. as long as he's somewhere in the background. he encourages that you tag him in all your posts. he fights for his life trying to convince you to let him come with you while you go out with your friends and he wins most of the time. but when he has to stay home, he stays up and waits for you, he double/triple texts and asks when you'll be home even though you made a point to give him a timeframe. and don't even be 5 minutes late because armin already has seventy-five questions lined up. if he's feeling extra silly, he'll start a fight over text. 🤪

2023. do not copy or repost any work by arlertwitch on any other platform. violators will be prosecuted. 🪼 — @artsyblkblocked / @sleazymac-n-cheesy / @arlerts-angel / @chiinni / @aegonslawyer / @stoned-eren /

#its not even his fault fr.#he’s just protective that’s all.#he’s been through a lot and he can’t always help it ok #my writing #armin arlert #armin imagine #armin headcanons #toxic!armin #armin drabble #armin one shot #armin x reader #armin x y/n #armin x you #armin x black reader #armin x fem reader #armin x black y/n

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ynscrazylife · 5 months

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rough days (poly!marauders x reader)

requested by anon | navigation

After graduating from Hogwarts with your boyfriends, things were going great. The four of you moved into a flat together, Sirius and James had started their Auror careers at the Ministry of Magic, and Remus was working towards becoming a Professor. You were taking your time in finding what you wanted to do and, as part of that, you had taken up a job in the Muggle world.

The job paid well (although it was a pain to convert the currencies) and was giving you good experience, but some days, like today, were tough. It was just after the holidays and everyone seemed to have a problem with something that they bought, either wanting to exchange it or return it, and many had strong attitudes instead of the receipts they needed. Your coworkers made things harder by choosing to slack off in the break room, leaving you alone to face the mob.

You’d even skipped lunch, unable to convince anyone to take over for you. By the time the day was over, you were mentally and physically fatigued, and wanted nothing more than to curl up with your boys at home.

Entering your apartment, you were saddened to see that the lights were off, meaning that you were the first one home. You knew the boys had demanding careers and had to work late, but it was still a little disappointing. Not in a particularly good mood, you managed to change into James’ sweater and Remus’ sweatpants before grabbing one of Sirius’ fluffy blankets. You curled up on the couch, turning on a random movie, and tried to get lost in it. You weren’t paying attention, so it was quite easy for you to drift off to sleep . . .

One of the perks of their Auror jobs was definitely being able to go home together. James and Sirius were cheerful as they got home after a successful day of training. They got even happier when they saw the lights on. “Y/N?” Sirius called out, knowing you often got home before Remus.

James headed into the living room, only to spot you fast asleep. He quickly ducked back out to the main hallway. “Asleep on the couch,” he told his boyfriend.

“Asleep?” Sirius echoed, following James back in. It wasn’t a common thing for you to fall asleep or nap in the middle of the day like this.

James plucked the remote off the coffee table and turned off the television.

“Hey, this is my blanket,” Sirius observed as he walked around the couch, then knelt down next to you. “And your sweater . . . Rem’s sweatpants.” He peered up at James, who had turned around a now, exchanging a look.

They knew that you loved to steal their clothes, especially when you were feeling crummy.

“I knew it was gonna be a hard day after the holidays,” James murmured, keeping his voice quiet as he knelt next to Sirius.

“Must’ve been tired,” Sirius agreed.

The two observed you for a moment, taking in your peaceful demeanor. At the very least, they were glad that you were resting now.

“I’m thinking we should make this place all cozy and cook Y/N’s favorite meal,” Sirius said, running his hand through your hair gently.

“Sounds like a plan,” James agreed, fixing the blanket.

They stood and went off to complete their mission (after changing into comfortable clothing). James began the task of figuring out how to cook while Sirius gathered every fluffy blanket and pillow in the flat. Then, when James nearly dropped a million things in the fridge, Sirius had to go over to help them. Together they managed as much as possible and, halfway through, Remus came home.

“Hey!” He announced, prompting James and Sirius to come running in.

“Shh!” They said simultaneously (almost louder than Remus had been).

The sandy-haired boy stared at them quizzically until they pointed at the count. He craned his long neck towards the couch, getting sight of you just as you started to wake up.

“Hmm,” you mumbled sleepily, sitting up and glancing around.

Immediately, the three softened up. “Hey, love,” Remus cooed, walking over.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

Suddenly, Sirius grabbed James by the collar of the shirt. “The food!” He said, and the two ran back into the kitchen.

Remus chuckled, turning his attention to you. “I have no idea,” he said, sitting down next to you. “How was your day? You were asleep.”

You sighed, leaning into Remus. “Hell on earth. Everyone was so annoying,” you huffed.

“Aww, babe,” Remus said, wrapping his arm around you and kissing your forehead. “I’m sorry. You know what, I think those two idiots might be catching on. I think I can smell your favorite meal.”

You smiled, nuzzling your head into Remus’s neck. “That’s nice,” you mumbled.

Remus rubbed your arm, sighing. “I’m sorry your day was crappy. Let us take care of you, okay?” He said, knowing you could be quite stubborn when you wanted to be.

Still in the daze of sleepiness and feeling quite loved, you nodded, curling up to him. Remus watched you for a moment, thinking that you worked so hard and didn’t deserve those crappy customers, and stayed with you even as James carried in the food and Sirius carried in the blankets.

“Your comfy, cozy night awaits, your royal highness!” James announced, making you grin at him. He set up the food for the four of you while Sirius practically trapped you with the blankets, making you giggle.

Remus turned on the television, finding a classic Muggle movie to watch. James and Sirius sat beside you, both of them arguing over who actually had the honor of sitting next to you.

The night carried on with great food, warm blankets, and a fun movie. While you appreciated it very much, having your boyfriends by your side was the best part. You ended up falling asleep in their arms and they took it upon themselves to call in sick for you at your job and for theirs as well. The next day was Friday, meaning you all got an early start to a weekend where they spoiled you and doted on your endlessly.

#poly marauders #poly marauders x reader #marauders x reader #hp marauders #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #marauders fanfiction #marauders harry potter #marauders fic #marauders fluff #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin

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cerise-on-top · 6 months

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i am here humbly begging for more cod tickle fight posts pretty please i am soooo thirsty

Yeah, sure. Sorry this took so long, I planned something even longer, making a scenario for each character being on the receiving end, but that likely would have been over 8.000 words in total, so I scrapped the idea. All of these together are already at almost 3.000 words. Still have the prompts, though. Anyway, thanks for the request, I appreciate you sending something in. These are essentially a bunch of characters and or reader teaming up on each other. First three reader is on the receiving end, but then I wanted to spice it up a little and have some characters be on the receiving end. No Valeria since I had no idea who to team her up with.

Team-Up Tickles

Price/Ghost: You’d really need to get on their nerves if you end up the victim of the both of them. Sure, it can be done, just rack up the bad points with innocent things that won’t harm anyone. Put Price’s cigars where he can’t find them immediately or place a little frog in his hat, draw a heart on Ghost’s mask with red sharpie or throw a few grapes at him. As long as they know it was you every time they’re gonna get fed up eventually. It doesn’t warrant any serious punishment, and if they know all you want is just to play around a bit they’ll be even more likely to just gang up on you. They’ll calmly confront you about it, even if there is a certain air of mischief surrounding them, and do just about anything to make you back up into a corner. The more helpless you feel, the more you realize you messed up, the better. Price will grab your wrists with one hand and hold them so you won’t escape. Ghost starts off slow if he knows he can take his sweet time with you, figuring out where he can elicit which reaction in what way. Every once in a while he’ll simply stop, though, giving you a small break before picking up where he left off. I advise you to not kick, he’ll simply grab your leg and keep going there. Eventually, Price grows just the tiniest bit impatient and joins in. The sooner he can get you to fall to the floor or wrestle you down, the better because you won’t be able to fight back. A bit rougher than Ghost, he wants to make you scream so you might learn your lesson. This time, if you’re a real squirmer or kicker, Ghost will hold you down so you won’t escape. If Price straddles your hips, Ghost will hold up your arms, those two work well together. Once you’re completely tuckered out they’ll stop, leaving you a giggling, breathless mess. However, they’re not monsters, if they think they went completely overboard by accident they’ll stay with you until you’ve recovered a bit, scolding you for being so annoying and how you really shouldn’t put frogs in Price’s hat.

Gaz/Soap: In their case they probably simply felt like doing it, so they did. Since they had a tickle fight with each other beforehand they thought it would be a lovely idea to get you in on it as well. It all starts with them scouting the area for you. Once they found you, they’ll lure you somewhere you won’t be able to escape, preferably a soft surface like a couch or a bed so you won’t hurt yourself. Last step is for one to distract you while the other surprises you. Even if either of them gets elbowed, it’s absolutely worth it just to hear your laugh ring out. If they’re not both having the time of their lives simultaneously, then they take turns holding you down and tickling you. Anywhere they can reach is fair game. It’s not too hard to figure out which one is the dominant tickler either, both of them have their own style: Soap barely lingers on one spot for too long, he’s fairly rough and quick and never shuts up while he’s at it, always teasing you one way or another. It may seem almost frantic, but there’s actually quite a bit of calculation behind it. Gaz is more gentle, and lingers longer on the spots he deems to be your worst ones before showing a bit of mercy. He plays the long game and wants to tire you out more slowly so the fun lasts a bit longer. Not as teasy, but he does ask you plenty of questions he genuinely expects you to answer in your state. Both of them have a good time and if they aren’t out for your laughter by verbally teasing you, they’ll talk as if nothing at all is happening. Gaz and Soap are close enough with each other that they barely need to speak to each other out loud in order to know what the other is about to do. You’re just the cutest little thing to them, so naturally they’re gonna make sure you’re okay afterwards. Whoever you pushed away the least that time gets to hold you, the other one grabs you a glass of water to make sure your voice doesn’t falter completely. They’re gonna rib you a bit afterwards as you catch your breath, but if someone else gets too close to you when you’re that tired they’ll have to deal with two SAS soldiers ready to throw hands. Yes, they’re extremely protective of you in that state.

Alejandro/Rodolfo: You likely asked Alejandro to train you a bit so your chances of surviving an encounter would go up. That he does, he’s a good teacher when it comes to things like that, except you’d want to keep going when it’s obvious you’ve reached your limit and are beyond tired. Sluggish movements and delayed reaction times leave you almost entirely defenseless, but still you insist in order to make him proud and show him just how capable you are. Alejandro will give you two chances to stop for the evening, after that he’ll simply pin you down or against the wall and start having his way. He makes sure not to hurt you, his grasp on you is gentle enough to not bruise, but firm enough to make sure you can’t get away either. After some time, if you still haven’t given up yet, he’ll call Rudy over to help him. It’s an order, so there isn’t much he can do about it. As you’re still spilling some residual giggles, Alejandro will give you a small break, letting Rudy take the wheel for a moment as he still holds you down. Rudy will gently graze your skin, fluttering his fingers here and there. It’s not enough to make you laugh, far from it, but it makes you just a bit more aware of your situation. It’s fun to him, feeling you suck in your stomach or have it quiver under his fingertips, for example. Once given the order, he’ll be a bit more rough on you, even though rough is still a bit relative. He’s not fast either, he’s still gentle. Alejandro, if he’s in the right position, will claw at your stomach as he nuzzles into your neck. It’s not his goal to make you scream, but as long as you’re still audacious enough to fight him he won’t relent. Only when you finally give in and stop for the night will the tickling cease. Rudy will chuckle a bit, seeing those tears in your eyes as you barely even remember where you are, asking you if you need anything. Alejandro pulls you towards him, rubbing your back and making sure you won’t topple over again. If you’re on the verge of falling asleep then and there, they’ll carry you to bed as well. Ask either of them to stay the night and cuddle you, there’s no way they’re gonna say no.

Graves/Shadows: Due to Graves being rather affectionate with his Shadows as well as being a competent leader, it’s no surprise that his subordinates trust him a great amount. Yes, he can be serious when the time calls for it, but that doesn’t mean he won’t ever goof around. The Shadows love him, so they’re usually more than willing to team up with each other and you to surprise the commander. It takes a single brave person, ready to try and best him after he decided to work himself to the bone again, to cause an avalanche of playful Shadows to go after him. Graves can hold his own against them normally, but when he’s clearly outnumbered even he can’t do much. Cast the first stone, someone else will follow. Spider your fingers along his back, when he turns someone else will take your place. Despite rolling around, squirming, kicking, he likely won’t tell you to stop as it’s a nice team building activity, stupid as it may be. If you get him to lie on his stomach and scribble along his thighs he can muster up the strength to throw someone off of him just once. It may seem like aimless flailing to most, but he doesn’t squeeze his eyes shut, he needs to know which Shadows he needs to get revenge on. No matter how much you tire him out, he won’t forget a face. Since Shadow Company has quite a few people working for it there’s gonna be a huge discrepancy between their different styles, but what works best on Graves is being rough on his upper body while being fairly gentle on his lower body. It takes at least two to three people to make sure he won’t escape since, once he knows the attackers are coming, it’s way harder to actually get him to go down. Once he goes silent that’s usually your cue to stop, anything else he won’t take as kindly to. While it may not be too uncommon for him to be targeted, depending on the intensity of the fun it might take him a bit longer to recover. As I’ve said before, stay with him and make sure he’s okay, you’re doomed either way so you might as well make sure he recovers well. He’ll be a bit more gentle when he gets his revenge. Besides, there are a few Shadows who genuinely want that sort of attention from their commander, Graves knows that. He’s fond of them, so he’s not at all against indulging them every once in a while.

Alex/Farah: In this scenario we’re going to assume you and Farah wanted to show Alex some affection, thus deciding to sandwich him in a hug. That was really just the cover up to your plan of him having given you a tickle hug one too many times, resulting in you both itching to get your fingers on him. Naturally, Alex won’t say no to a hug from his favorite people, he welcomes it, in fact. You let him have that moment for a few seconds before you strike. One of you shoves their hands in his armpits, the other one goes for his sides. When he topples over whoever stands behind him gets to catch and hold him. It’s a spot he’s going to defend with his life, but brush your fingers against his neck or flutter them against the skin there, he’ll pull up his shoulder immediately to get you to go away. Alex can take quite a lot, but that doesn’t mean his reaction isn’t to try and shove you away. His giggles are sweet, almost a bit quiet, even his laugh isn’t too loud. Some curses here and there, sure, but he doesn’t mean any of them. While he may have some of his reactions under control, he’ll try to get away from the both of you but won’t start hitting you, opting for grabbing your hands instead. If that doesn’t work, he’ll make attempts to curl up. Realistically speaking, he knows there’s no danger since it’s just you and Farah, people he trusts, but he can’t help it, it tickles just far too much. Aware of his past crimes, he’s willing to atone, letting you have your fun for quite a while. But he will tell you to stop once he’s hit his limit. Doesn’t hate tickling and being tickled by any means, but it’s exhausting when you’re on the receiving end. Definitely doesn’t mind some affection afterwards, even if it’s just in the form of teasing him regarding how cute he is. When you listen to him and his residual giggles, you can watch his gaze drift between you and Farah with adoration and admiration in his eyes. He’s aware of his strength, he knows that it’s not easy at all to take him down, meaning it takes a lot of trust for him to allow himself to be in a position like that. But it’s fun and games, he’s not gonna stop either, so it’s only fair.

Laswell/Nikolai: You probably got fed up with Nikolai barely, if at all, reacting to you trying to get back at him. He is ticklish, that much I can tell you, he just doesn’t show it. Only when you’re playfully complaining to him about it with Laswell overhearing does the situation brighten for you. As someone who works for the CIA, Laswell has dirt on just about any person, including Nikolai. Besides, they’ve been friends for a long time too, which made her one of the most qualified people to tell you that Nikolai can be weak to tickles, if done correctly. Beating around the bush, Nikolai neither confirms nor denies this, but promises you that he’ll hold still and let you try, under the premise he gets to do the same later. He’s confident you won’t be able to get him to laugh. Ever the keeper of his word, you try. Laswell watches as you fail time and time again to even get him to flinch. With a sigh, she shows you the ropes, telling you what to do in order to accomplish your goal. Advice is given, instructions are told as though you’re taking apart a weapon and cleaning it for the first time. In this case, you’re merely told to lightly scratch under his chin. Despite expecting it, Nikolai shudders regardless. It’s a pleasant sensation, but it takes everything in him to not flinch. Next up is the side of his neck, and lastly, his cheeks. A smile has made its way onto his lips, even during the first spot, but you couldn’t tell whether it was out of pity or mockery. Gently grazing his skin, you weren’t even sure if you were touching it in the first place, seemed to work. A few giggles spilt here and there, but he never bothered to grab your hand or push you away. According to Laswell, as well as Nikolai, that was likely everything you were gonna get out of him using your hands only. If you desired a stronger outcome you’d need something along the lines of a feather or a make-up brush. As it turns out, being rough doesn’t work on him at all, he’s trained himself out of that, but since he never really got the chance to get used to gentle tickles he couldn’t build up a resistance to them. Regardless, it was your turn to get wrecked and Nikolai wasn’t going to go easy on you for what you did.

König/Horangi: From time to time you’d tease König. Nothing particularly mean, Horangi’s remarks were much more impactful than yours. Besides, König is a colonel, he had been through worse and can take some playful banter, often taunting both of you in return. It wasn’t until you had claimed that, due to his height, he must have some extra ribs that you genuinely got both König’s and Horangi’s attention. With everyone involved knowing that König was, indeed, ticklish, this made for a wonderful suggestion. Considering you made the claim, you got the honor of actually getting to count them as Horangi held König’s arms behind his back. Sitting down on his lap to make it just that extra bit harder to move, you got to work. König’s curses weren’t particularly creative, but they did hold a certain venom to them, they could corrode anyone’s skin. But the poison mellowed as soon as you made contact with his ribs, drilling in here and there and vibrating your fingers to get a feel for his ribcage. At first König was rigid, not moving an inch, but then he started kicking, trying to get you off of him. In all fairness, it almost worked. The lower you moved the stronger his reactions were. Once you were done you counted 17, to which Horangi naturally replied that that couldn’t be right, there had to be at least 28. Switching places with him, it was your turn to take König’s arms and hold them back. Horangi was a much more ruthless tickler than you, making sure to “get a feel of how much space his ribs take up” before “counting them thoroughly”. Yes, mistakes were made and he “lost count” a few times. Despite everything, he was diligent enough to try again. The conclusion was that König had no extra ribs that day, having only 24 it seemed, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still grow some more over time. This phenomenon had to be studied and he’d need a check-up every once in a while that only you and Horangi could be trusted with. Cussing both of you out, König recovered very quickly, looming over you with the ferocity of an untamed beast. Despite having considered punting both of you into the ground for humiliating him like that, he doesn’t go through with it. Another one who’s very confident in his abilities, he chases that instant gratification this time and goes for both of you to get his revenge. Maybe not at once, maybe he can get you to betray the other in the meantime, but he’ll have both of you breathless and exhausted by the end of the day.

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markantonys · 3 months

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the good thing about the slog is that because such little of true import happens over such a long chunk of the series, the show is quite well-positioned to be able to tell the whole story cohesively in any number of seasons after 4. only 4 seasons would be tricky, but 5 or 6 would be just as doable as 7 or 8. (disclaimer that there has not been any news or speculation about potentially getting less than 8 seasons so don't panic haha it's just a topic i was randomly thinking about today! that being said, i do think 8 seasons is pretty ambitious in today's television landscape, especially if it continues to take 2 years to make each season, so while we're all hoping for the full 8, it's worth imagining how they could do it in fewer.)

i expect s4 to roughly coincide with the end of LOC, so, dumai's wells for rand and being raised amyrlin for egwene. perrin, mat, nynaeve, and elayne have more wiggle room in what they might be getting up to during s4 (it seems possible the ebou dar trip might be absorbed into tanchico in s3, and perrin may have to get an invented plotline or have a later plotline brought forward for s4 since he has so little in TFOH-LOC), so i won't guess at the endpoint for them beyond that it will likely leave them ready to kick into a fresh new storyline for s5. and nynaeve frankly doesn't have a book storyline after ebou dar (she's just supporting rand's & lan's storylines), so i'll ignore her in this post and just focus on the other 5 mains. fingers crossed the show will come up with more for nynaeve to do during this part of the story, but that's a separate topic.

after LOC, as far as i can recall, each of them only has 1-2 main things they strictly Must do before the last battle (obviously i've left out a bunch of stuff, but i'm thinking of just the absolute bare minimum essentials here):

rand: cleanse saidin (only requires 1 episode); reach his lowest point, then pull himself back up again, all the while simultaneously working to get as many nations under his banner as possible

egwene: unite the tower as uncontested amyrlin

perrin: finish wolf training; fold the whitecloaks into his army

mat: rescue moiraine (only requires 1 episode); get himself in charge of the seanchan forces

elayne: become uncontested queen of andor

so if s4 ends where i speculate, they'd all be perfectly positioned to spend 4-6 episodes of s5 doing these things, then the last battle for the remaining 2-4 episodes, and boom, we've fit all the most crucial things into only 5 seasons.

i know the instinct is to gasp and insist that they all have so much else to do, but.........do they really? everybody agrees that egwene & elayne & perrin only have 1 plotline during books 7-11 which is dragged out for more books than is needed to tell it, so mat and rand are really the sticking points. but if you think about it, mat spends this time repeatedly starting one plotline but then getting yanked out of it partway through to start a new one, so he doesn't actually accomplish that much story-wise. rand, meanwhile, is on a bunch of little 1-book quests (taking illian, seanchan campaign, hunting traitor asha'man, trying to meet with DOTNM) that could be cut for time or merged into his Darth Rand emotional arc from TGS. honestly, he's so emotionally stagnant for most of books 7-11 (he's either not present, dicking around doing nothing, or repeating emotional beats he already did in TSR-LOC) that i don't think going from dumai's wells straight to Darth Rand would be a bad idea at all, if the show had to; in fact, dumai's wells is kind of a perfect launchpoint for that arc, emotions-wise, and plot-wise, if they wanted to replace some of the arad doman events with some slog events, but just put the Darth Rand emotional spin on those slog events, they could easily do so (for example, him being reckless/arrogant with callandor against the seanchan and getting his own people killed could sub in for natrin's barrow in showing how ruthlessly Ends Justify Means he's becoming).

but anyway, these are imo the absolute most crucial pre-TLB plot points of the second half of the series (at least for these main characters, i'm not taking ALL characters into account in this post) and they could be fit into only 5 seasons without much trouble. now if you've got 6, 7, or 8 seasons, that gives extra room to expand these plot points and also add in some additional, not-strictly-required-but-nice-to-have plot points like more Little Rand Quests, elayne taking the throne of cairhien, egwene & gawyn hunting assassins in the tower, and the faile kidnapping plotline. (while making this post i actually had a wild thought of the faile kidnapping being perrin's s4 plotline followed by wolves & whitecloak stuff in s5 then into TLB, or alternately the whitecloaks being part of the kidnapping plotline as perrin's unlikely allies rather than the seanchan; could be a great structure for a 5-6 season scenario, but for 7-8 it would cause perrin to run out of content too quickly haha)

#i know we don't even want to Think about getting less than 8 seasons #but it does bring me such peace to mull over how well the story could be told in as few as 5!#wot #wot on prime #the wheel of time #wot book spoilers

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runningfrom2am · 9 months

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‘tis the damn season

summary: long distance wasn't going to work, rafe made that very clear. so when you come home from LA for christmas break, what happens when you see your ex again?

pairing: rafe x fem!reader

wc: 1.7k

tags/warnings: allusions to hooking up but not anything actually nsfw, soft(ish)!rafe, but somehow also canon(ish)!rafe (hard to explain but you'll see lol.

a/n: i got this request an ETERNITY ago from @flonkertn for my 500 celly sorry girl but here it is now lol

masterlists // nav

requests

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You kick off the snow from your shoes as you walk into the familiar coffee shop, pulling your hood off and taking in the scent of ground coffee beans and fresh vanilla. It's only been four months since you've been here, but you missed it.

You walk up to the counter and order your old usual, chatting with the barista, a girl you had graduated with just earlier this year. You smiled and nodded as she explained she was taking a gap year, saving up to hopefully get into UNC. You step away after paying and stand at the other end of the counter to wait for your drink.

It's busy, but not too busy, and you get your drink in just five minutes and wave goodbye as you turn to leave. Of course you were imagining you would see people you knew, but you didn't think you would see Rafe so soon. You were hoping you wouldn't see your ex at all, actually.

You lock eyes for about a second and you give him a small smile, brushing past him and his group of friends who were laughing as you get to the door and step back out into the light sprinkling of snow that just started again.

If I wanted to know who you were hanging with While I was gone I would have asked you.

Rafe didn't expect to see you so soon, either. You didn't end things on bad terms, far from it. It was the hardest goodbye you'd ever had to face, but long distance was out of the question for both of you since you were going to school on the West Coast. You actually couldn't be further away within the continental United States, and it was just a stress neither of you were ready to take on.

It's the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass But I felt it when I passed you.

You felt cold before the winter breeze even hit you, before the bell above the door even rang to signal that someone was leaving. You pull your hood back up with your free hand and trek toward your car in the shallow snow.

"Hey! Y/N! Wait!" You hear Rafe call to you and you're quick to turn, stopping in your tracks in the middle of the small parking lot.

"Rafe, hi." You smile shyly, wanting to avoid his eyes. If you look into his eyes for too long you're certain you won't be able to walk away, knowing damn well your suitcase is still packed at home ready for you to leave in only a couple of short weeks.

"Hey, uh, how have you been?" He jogs up to you, smiling with a grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He feels guilty about not being able to commit to the long distance between you most of the year.

There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me But if it's all the same to you It's the same to me

"I'm good." You nod softly, taking a sip of your coffee. "You?"

"Good." Rafe replies simply. Things have never been this awkward between the two of you before, ever. There's so much to say but simultaneously, so little. "How's LA treating you?"

"It's great. I love it there." You smile, and this brings him a level of comfort. At least he didn't give you up just for you to be miserable over the sacrifice you both made.

"That's awesome. I'm glad." Rafe nods, taking in your appearance and still trying to process that it's actually you standing in front of him. You look just the same as you did last Christmas, but somehow so much more grown up.

"I, uh, it's great to see you, but I've got to get going..." You say after a moment of awkward silence as Rafe is pulled from his trance, admiring the blush from the cold that's spread over your nose and cheeks.

"Wait, wait-" He grabs your arm as you go to turn away. "Uh, want to hang out, like catch up sometime this week?"

You smile softly and nod, despite knowing damn well you'll regret it when you have to say goodbye again. "For sure, I'll text you." You agree, making him smile.

"Sweet, cool... I'll talk to you soon, then."

So we could call it even You could call me babe for the weekend 'Tis the damn season, write this down

You didn't end up needing to text Rafe, because he would text you that night. He was anxious to see you, of course. Something you realized over the last three years together, being admired by classmates for having the "perfect" relationship, is that Rafe doesn't think five minutes into the future. He's impulsive and doesn't think about consequences, which you used to think was cute but with adulthood barreling at you before you could blink or stop it, that would be a factor that ended your relationship. You had dreams, and he didn't, and the idea of living for the future instead of the moment didn't sit well with him. He couldn't suffer through months without you at his side, he would just miss you too much and it would be too hard. Now, that you're home, he couldn't miss the opportunity to see you again.

The following afternoon, you're borrowing your parent's car to meet Rafe at the local ice rink. This was a tradition you had following one of your first dates being there a few holidays before. You were just kids, in hindsight, and you smile at the memory as you walk inside, holding your keys and phone in gloved hands.

I'm stayin' at my parents' house And the road not taken looks real good now And it always leads to you in my hometown

The next day, you see him again. Not by choice this time, but after sharing awkward smiles across your parent's Christmas party for a couple of hours, you find yourself sitting next to your ex on the porch swing just outside your front door. You slowly rock the bench with one foot, curled up in a blanket with a cup of tea in your hands.

"I'm sorry you got dragged here." You say quietly, after sitting in silence for several minutes. You wished you could say that your 'not-date' yesterday went horribly, but it didn't. You enjoyed almost every second of it, it brought back so many memories that you now wish you could forget.

"Why? I wanted to see you." Rafe replies, looking over at you in the dim lighting that's seeping through the window behind you.

"You shouldn't." You say, taking a sip of your tea that is quickly cooling with the night air.

Rafe just shrugs in response. His parents weren't going to make him come this year, all things considered, and at first, he didn't want to. Once they left, however, he found himself digging through his closet for a dress shirt and throwing it on before flying out the door with the keys to his new truck and a bottle of wine from the cellar to give to your parents.

The holidays linger like bad perfume You can run, but only so far I escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave

Somehow, on a couple weeks' vacation, you run into Rafe for a third time in the first five days of your trip. This isn't surprising, considering you were at a party with your friends and a bunch of kids you graduated with. What they failed to consider is that they invited some other mutual friends- Kelce and Topper. Where they go, Rafe goes; but your friends didn't connect those dots ahead of time. Which is how you ended up drunk, with your ex's tongue in your mouth and your back pressed up against the bathroom door.

You didn't talk the whole night leading up to this and hadn't even bothered to turn on the light in the small room. Part of you didn't want to- you knew you would have left if you had to think about the weight of this decision for even a moment.

As he runs his hand down over your waist and under your skirt, you're willing to admit to yourself that you've missed him. So, so much. That it's been nearly impossible to keep him out of your head, even all the way across the country he's had this hold on you that you just haven't been able to shake.

"Come home with me." Rafe mumbles against the soft skin of your lips, savouring the bitter taste of your lip gloss as it lingers on his tongue.

You breathe out a soft 'okay', gripping onto the sides of his shirt and holding him tight against you as if he would vanish if you let him go.

Within a few minutes, you're stumbling out of the bathroom hand in hand heading for the door, feeling lucky that Tannyhill is within walking distance. A voice in the back of your mind is telling you you shouldn't tell your friends that you're leaving with your ex and need a ride back to his house- they likely wouldn't approve.

"There they go." Your best friend sighs, still nursing her third drink.

"You called it." Your other friend giggles, watching you fumble with the bag you have thrown over your shoulder as Rafe holds the door for you. "Should we stop them?"

"Probably." She replies, downing the rest of her drink, but shrugging and making no effort to go and stop you herself.

Across the room, Topper groans and reaches for his wallet, pulling out a hundred and handing it to a cheering Kelce. "I told you, bro! I told you he'd get her home tonight." He laughs, both of your friend groups watching as the door slams behind the two of you and you head in the direction of Rafe's house, the alcohol in both of your systems keeping you warm.

Sleep in half the day just for old times' sake I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay

So I'll go back to L.A. and the so-called friends Who'll write books about me, if I ever make it And wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles I'm fakin'

And the heart I know I'm breakin' is my own To leave the warmest bed I've ever known

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tyblackthornsheadphones · 6 months

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Hiya! Maybe some hurt and comfort fic with the moon boys after the reader got hurt in a street scuffle thing? :)

i reread this only once and yes, i did notice the inconsistent verb tenses but honestly i don’t have the energy to go back and change it. i tried to keep physical descriptions of the reader to a minimum so it should be gender neutral and any race. if not, please let me know so i can fix it.

i also kind of forgot the reader was supposed to be hurt and wrote it more emotional but i hope it’s fine anyway. (i’m so bad at following requests i’m so sorry)

if you wanna support me you can buy me a ko-fi.

the two men had come out of nowhere, forcing you into an alleyway under the dark cover of the night. your only comfort was the thought that your boys were watching the city for these exact types of people, maybe they would come save you. and if you managed to hold off the two men for just long enough, you could get out of this alive.

you weren’t a fighter. marc had taught you basic self-defence, but even so you wouldn’t have been able to take on two big, buff men with guns and eyes that spoke of deranged thoughts and lack of care for any life but their own.

the rest was a blur. a white caped hero throwing punches, a body jumping in front of your own, blood on the concrete and on gloved hands.

“let’s get you home, amor.”

jake was angry, you could hear it in his tone, but you were still frozen in fear from the encounter, your mind buzzing yet simultaneously unable to string together any coherent thoughts. so you didn’t respond, and he carried you home in his arms, jumping into the loft through the window you always kept open for him on nights like these, the one you’d forgotten to close before leaving.

you have a routine for when your boys come back from their duties as moonknight. the suit heals their wounds, but it doesn’t wash away the blood. you run a warm cloth over their skin until the blood and grime is all washed off, a slow repetitive process that gives their mind the time to deal with the violence they committed and store away the memories somewhere far back.

it’s easy to let your muscle memory take over.

“you don’t have to do that tonight,” jake says, “let us take care of you. we want to make sure you’re alright after that.”

you shake your head. there’s still a part of you that’s numb, and you don’t think you could put your feelings into words, you don’t think there’s any real way to voice the way you were convinced you were going to die, the way your brain flashed through everything you regret and your friends you haven’t seen in a while and the goals you’d never accomplish.

the suit falls away and it’s just your jake. not the hero of london or the fist of vengeance, just your worried boyfriend.

you clean his knuckles of the blood that always somehow manages to seep through the bandages that make up their suit. his body tenses, and when you look up, you meet marc’s eyes. his jaw is clenched in a way that you recognise, he wants to speak but doesn’t quite know how to say it, he’s worried talking about it might not be what you need right now.

“i’m sorry,” you say finally, “for going out. a friend needed my help and i thought i could walk back home after. i didn’t think…”

“not your fault,” marc replies, “we should’ve gotten them before they even had the chance to touch you.”

“it’s not your fault either, you know,” you put the dirty cloth down.

he shakes his head. there’s no point in having this argument, it’s the same every time. you argue that it’s impossible to save everyone, that london is a huge city and they’re just one body that can only accomplish so much. marc’s dumb guilty conscience convinces him that any person he can’t save in time is blood on his hands, not the fault of the criminals who committed the act, but his for not being able to save them.

you understand why, and the fights always come back to the same thing.

the last remnants of adrenaline are fading and your hands grow shaky. marc leads you to bed, but you know this is the part where he leaves, back into the headspace while one of the others (usually steven) hold you under the safety of the blankets. he likes to take care of you, to provide, but he still struggles to be soft.

“i was so scared,” you finally admit when the lights are turned off and the room is dark and the boys can’t see your face. it’s easier to admit when you don’t have to look into the eyes of the men who act as london’s protectors, constantly in dangerous situations. you don’t have to deal with the feelings of inferiority, like comparing yourself to marc’s strong and brave ex-wife who would surely have been able to defend herself.

you don’t even know which one is fronting. maybe they all are. when the tears start to fall, all you care about is the comforting familiarity of the strong arms around you and the scent of the men you love.

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remusluvr · 11 months

Text

say it ain't so | steve harrington

summary: Byers reader and Steve's last night together before leaving for California. content: female reader, angst, f oral, sex, no usage of y/n

The bedroom you have lived in for the last eighteen years is nearly completely vacant. All that's left in it is your bed and your duffle bag for the trip. It's weird seeing your once vibrant room so dull.

"I don't like it," you say, crossing your arms as you stand in the doorway whilst Steve is laid out on your bed.

"Neither do I, none of your personality is in here anymore," Steve sighs before proceeding to sit up. You shut the door behind you to go sit with him.

Tomorrow morning you'll be in a car driving to California with your family. There was no other choice for you since you still have your senior year to complete, which means you have to leave Steve behind for nearly an entire year.

Curling yourself into his lap, his arms wrap around you. You two have already discussed visiting each other many times, how he'll fly out to you and you'll fly back to Hawkins to see him. And you and he have already made spring break plans for you to come back to Hawkins for nearly two weeks.

It'll work, you'll work.

Your heart aches at the mere idea of not being able to see him every day, or hear his voice, or visit him at work, or have him climb through your bedroom window so you two can have sleepovers. Usually, Joyce was a lot more strict about sleepovers with significant others but with you leaving tomorrow, it's okay for tonight.

All you want is for this night to never end so you never have to leave Steve.

His hand rakes through your hair as you lay on him, "I'm going to miss you so fucking much."

You're already quite emotional that you have to leave everything and everyone you've ever known and Steve is simultaneously making it worse and better. He turns your face up to look at him and he coos down at you when he notices the tears welling in the corners of your eyes.

"It's just not fair, Stevie. Why can't I just live at your house for the rest of the school year? You can work at the video store, I'll go to school, and then at night, we sleep in the same bed like we live together."

"I know, baby. It's not fair at all. But you'll love California and imagine when I come to visit. We'll drive to the beach and spend the whole day there. Just you and me."

"That'll be nice," you hum. The image is crisp in your mind and you're giddy about it. Steve always knows exactly what you need to hear. "Ah, and then you'll come back to the house and I'll show you my new room. I'm not sure how I want to decorate yet."

"Send me pictures. I wanna see everything you get up to out there."

"That's such a good idea but I don't have a camera," you whine, flopping your head down onto his shoulder. He laughs and moves you off of him. "Where are you going?"

He reaches under the bed where he's hidden your going away present. A camera, a stack of envelopes, paper, pens, and stamps. The perfect concoction for when your relationship is about to go long distance.

"I got myself the same stuff. I expect at least one letter a week and at least five phone calls a day," he proclaims, watching as you smile down into the box. You laugh before setting the box to the side and climbing back to him. "Not an ideal situation by any means but everything will be fine. I promise."

You kiss him from your position in his lap. He kisses back with even more fervor. Your hands drape themselves around his neck as his grab at your hips. Any time you kiss Steve, it makes you dizzy but especially now. When he's putting everything unsaid into this kiss, how could it not?

It hits you as he flips you over onto your back that this is the last time you'll be able to do this in a while. Your lips stutter against his and he pulls back, thumb coming up to rub over them. There's no need to bring down his mood by addressing the elephant in the room. Tonight, you'll just enjoy the fact that he's here.

"So pretty," he whispers, leaning down again for a quick kiss before his thumbs slip just underneath the waistband of your shorts so he can slide them down. He moves slowly, deliberately, so he can savor this moment forever.

And once they're off and thrown to the side, he's laying on the bed between your legs. His lips are like fire on your legs as he kisses a path up to where you want him the most. He won't let you rush him though, making sure to take his sweet ol' time to nip at your inner thighs.

He's cruel with his teasing, fingers ghosting idly over your panties. Pulling down your underwear has his vision glazing over as he focuses in on the very thing he's been planning since the beginning.

"It'll be hard, very hard, to not be able to eat this pussy any time I want," he sighs, leaning in to lick at your clit. You're panting from all this teasing and his words don't help at all. Reaching down, your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling him closer to you. He grins into you, finally giving you what you want.

If there's anything Steve is the best at it is eating you out. He goes to town, sloppy and wet just to make you feel your very best. His lips suction around your clit before moving down to dip his tongue into you. It's world-changing. You don't know how you'll survive months without him.

Your thighs squeeze his head and he moans, letting the vibration move through you. It has your legs shaking as his hands grip at your thighs, keeping them spread enough for him to do his job properly. He loves it though, loves every little thing you do.

"Steve!" you whine, remembering that there are other people in this house but when you're getting the best head of your life, there's bound to be escaped noises. Steve is a cocky boy and you can feel his smile against you. It's boosting his ego knowing you're having this much trouble keeping it down.

You don't even warn him at all before cumming but he knows. Steve always knows. From the clench of your fingers in his hair, to your hips bucking into his face, and your sudden gasp of breath it's not hard to figure out. And he takes everything you give him, watching as you bite down on the pillow beside you so you don't wake the whole house. There's nothing more that he wants right now than to hear you, it's killing him.

He huffs as he settles in next to you, letting you cuddle into him so you can regain some of your breathing.

"Wonder if those cameras do video cause I don't how I'll last without hearing your pretty sounds for so long," he groans, tossing his head back against your headboard. You giggle as you look up at him. You press upward, sucking at his neck whilst you climb into his lap.

"We can always call each other," you whisper directly beside his ear, biting at it for extra measure, "Think I'm getting my own phone for my room."

"P-perfect, baby." He's whining quietly as you continue the assault on his neck, maybe getting too carried away but the look on his face is worth it. There is still a t-shirt and pajama pants on him and while the fabric may feel nice on your bare cunt, you need him out of them immediately.

"Take your shirt off for me, Stevie?" It's off before you can even make it down the bed at all to pull at his pants. He chastises you for teasing but it's no different than what he was doing. "Poor baby, you're so hard."

He's panting and it feels nice to be the one in control of him. Your fingers run over his tip, leaving him to chase your touch.

"Please, put me out of my misery, sweetheart." Smiling at him, you do. His inhale is sharp once he's inside you. You lean your forehead on his shoulder as you get used to him. "You're my lovely girl, god, I love you so much."

He grips onto your hips, helping you bounce on him. All of your confidence faded away as soon as you got what you wanted, turning to mush instead. You just need him to take care of you.

It doesn't take all that long before you're close again, sensitive from your first orgasm. And the way you're clenching around him has right there with you. His lips press messily onto yours as he tries to fight off his impending orgasm so this doesn't have to end. Your hands are glued to the sides of his face and he's never felt this loved.

"Mmpfh, g-gonna cum. W-where you want it?" he groans into your lips.

"Inside please," you whine, grinding down onto him to meet his thrusts, "Please, I want it. I'll get the m-morning-after pill."

It's too much for Steve and he cums with a loud moan that you have to muffle by clamping your hands over his mouth. You don't blame him because you have to bite down on his shoulder as you finish. And when you're both done, he's so drunk off of you that he whines when you get off his lap.

"I don't want you to leave me," Steve frowns as you lay on his chest.

"I know. But I'm not gone forever, you're not losing me." He's still upset and he will be for the next few months as he gets used to it. All he can think about is how much money he's about to make because that's all he'll be doing, work. But he'd be okay with being the poorest man in the world if it meant that you were with him.

"We should get some sleep since you have to be up early," he instructs, trying to be firm and ignore the ache in his chest. Once he's asleep, he'll have to wake up to you leaving him and he's not ready. He'll never be ready and you're not ready but it's what will happen.

"Probably. I love you."

"I love you more."

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