#1.4k whoa

[moonstruckme]

hi! could i get james potter fluff where they’re both just taking a stroll or they’re ice skating and reader suddenly slips and lands on their knee and gets a huge scab on their knee. reader plays it off saying she’s fine but she doesn’t notice that her knee is slowly bleeding and james freaks out? 😭

aka me, I SLIPPED ON ICE AND MY KNEE STARTED BLEEDING TODAY

Ahh sorry babe! Here's some Jamie to heal you <3 (I have no idea how this got so long sorry)

cw: mentions of blood

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

“Whoa, you okay?” James skids to a stop beside you, ice shavings flying. 

You grin at him, embarrassed. “Yeah, I’m good.” You ignore the burning in your knee, wobbling back to your feet. James sets a tentative hand under your forearm to steady you. “Sorry.” 

He makes a face. You know him well enough by now to know it means he doesn’t want you to apologize, but he knows you well enough to know that saying it is pointless. The two of you set off again. You’ve got one arm in James’ hold and the other extended cautiously to the side for balance, but James Good-At-Everything Potter doesn’t even need to look in front of him as he skates. He glides along smoothly, maneuvering you both around kids with little plastic helpers and other inexperienced skaters like yourself with little effort. If he weren’t so himself, it’d be pretty irksome. 

“What were we talking about?” you ask, laughing awkwardly. 

“You were telling me about the cat outside your work,” James reminds you. 

“Oh, yeah.” You shake your head at yourself a little, looking down at your skates just like James had warned you not to. They start to slip out from under you, but he holds you up until your right yourself. “Sorry, I’ve been going on about that forever.” 

“No, it’s cute,” he says. “Don’t hold out on me, what happened to her? Did she get a name?” 

“She did.” You glance at him, and he’s smiling encouragingly. James is always smiling at you. It’s incentive to keep talking. 

You tell him more about the cat, and then he tells you about the puppy his parents adopted when he moved out, which he felt rather cheated about because he’d always wanted one when he lived at home. You tell him about the slew of fish you’d had as a child, which sparks a conversation about odd pets, which is how you learn about his friend’s pet toad. James seems to have a lot of friends. You’re starting to keep track of a few names, but sometimes they swirl together and you can’t remember who’s who. He doesn’t hold it against you. 

You’ve only been on a few dates with James, but this is typically how they go. You show up all self-conscious and tense, and then he gives you one of his easy smiles and suddenly it’s like you’ve no reason to be nervous at all. James loves to talk, and you, oddly, seem to love talking with him as well. You enjoy the talking a lot more than the skating, and when your time slot on the rink is up you have to feign a bit more disappointment than you feel. As far as you’re concerned, the main event is going to be the hot chocolate you plan to have after this. 

“Let me get that,” James says when he’s undone the laces to both his skates and you’re still struggling with your first one. He kneels in front of you, deft fingers easing apart the knot and then whipping the laces skillfully out of each of their little hooks. He starts to pull the skate off your foot, but pauses when his eyes flit up, catching on your knee. 

He hisses through his teeth. “Sweetheart, what happened here?” 

“Hm?” You bend over so your head is closer to his, trying to see what he’s talking about. Your leggings are wet through with blood, a giant ugly splotch around your knee. “Oh,” you say quietly. 

“Oh,” James agrees, teasing tone at odds with the uncharacteristic frown pinching his features. “That looks rough. Do you think it happened when you fell?” 

“Which time?” you joke.

His laugh is half-hearted. A diligent effort. He starts pulling up the one side of your leggings, working them up your calf. He hisses again, sympathy mingled with concern, when the bloody mess of your knee is unveiled. It’s almost impossible to tell where the cut is with the skin around it stained so thoroughly. You bite your lip to keep from making a sound as James peels the fabric of your legging away carefully, but when his thumb presses on the skin next to the wound you wince. 

He inhales softly, seemingly as startled as you are, and gives you an remorseful look. “Sorry, lovely. How badly does it hurt?” 

“Not bad,” you fib, though exposed to the cold air, the burning is starting to get to you. 

James looks like he knows, mouth pulling to the side compassionately. His eyebrows come down behind his glasses as he tries to get a look at the wound. You try to ignore the tingling that results from him gripping the back of your knee the way he is. Tenderly, with more care than you’re used to. 

“Alright.” He gives the side of your calf a little pat, rising to his feet. “I’m going to go find someone who works here.” 

“Oh, James,” you protest as he walks away, “it’s really not that bad. I’ll take care of it at home!” 

“Stay put!” he calls over his shoulder. 

As if you’d ever leave without him. 

You try not to fidget while he’s gone, feeling awkward and pathetic sitting all bloody and alone while other groups taking off their skates chat around you. James returns a short time later with a sullen-looking employee in tow. You give them a tight smile, and James returns it with twice the gusto, talking up the teen worker who looks like they’d rather be anywhere else. He’ll come around. You doubt anyone can resist the James Potter charm. 

“Such excellent service they have here,” James says lightly, sitting beside you on the metal bench. He sets a casual hand on your knee, putting a stop to the bouncing you didn’t realize you’d started. “I asked for a first aid kit and they gave me a whole Martin.” 

Martin declines to comment. He unpackages a tiny antiseptic wipe, going after your bloody knee with unfeeling determination. 

You bite down on your lip, and James’ dark brows lower, his eyes flickering between you and Martin indecisively. You give him a small smile that you hope says Please don’t say anything to this poor kid on my behalf, even if I potentially start crying. James seems to get the general idea, returning your smile and intertwining his fingers with yours consolingly. 

One benefit of Martin’s vicious treatment is that it’s over quickly. Before long, he’s slapping a plaster on your cut and telling you both to let someone (not him, presumably) know if you need anything else. A man of few words to the last. 

James takes his place before you can move, kneeling in front of you again. 

“Is that really it?” he asks disbelievingly, delicately stroking the edge of the small plaster with his thumb. 

“I told you it wasn’t bad,” you tease softly. 

He blows out a big breath, blinking up at you. “I thought for sure it was going to need stitches. How do you bleed so much? You scared the shit out of me, sweetheart.” 

“Sorry.” 

The look he shoots you is about as stern as he ever gets, disapproval buried beneath a heap of fondness. “Don’t,” he says. 

You fail to hide a smile, and he fails to hide his reciprocation, dropping his chin back towards your knee. It really looks now like you’ve both been quite dramatic, the blood all cleaned up and a tiny plaster covering what turned out to be only a small scrape. From the feel of it you know it’ll be horribly bruised in the morning, but it really was never anything too dire.

“Do you think you can straighten it?” 

“No,” you deadpan. “I think I’ll probably need crutches, actually.” 

James looks up, startled and delighted by your joking. “Yeah?” There’s a breathless sort of laughter in his tone. “What do you think, ten days’ bed rest?” 

“Oh, at least.” 

“Mm, and I suppose someone will have to bring you all your meals as well. Feed you chocolates and pastries and all that, keep you company, serenade you from time to time.” 

Your lips twitch. You can feel your face warming faintly. “Seems best.” 

James nods, aiming for serious but missing by a mile with that ever-present curve in his lips. “Well, I guess we’d better get you home, then,” he says, worming his arm under your knees. 

You don’t realize what he’s up to until the other one wraps securely around your back, and by then it’s too late. 

“James!” you gasp as he hoists you up, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Put me down.” 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, we’ll still stop for hot chocolate. I’d never deprive you of that.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter x self insert #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter hurt/comfort #james potter imagine #james potter drabble #james potter scenario #james potter blurb #james potter one shot #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[wintfleur]

Ok can we get a blurb when Rutger gets hurt and goes to the hospital? And how Stella reacted

౨ৎ tears, wishes and kit-kats

°. — pairings ( Estella Hughes oc! X Rutger McGroarty )

°. — details ( g; some angst because rutger gets hurt and Stella is worried, some fluff. w; none really. wc 1.4K)

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I AM SO SO SO SORRY for how long it took me to get this out, I hope you enjoy it !!! Please don’t be a silent reader )

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

au masterlist — you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

°. — asks about stella and rut are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🩷୧˚ stella & rut!

It was a horrifying sight, to watch as your boyfriend gets slammed into the ice, only to be taken off the ice on a stretcher. And that’s exactly what Stella had to go through, feeling completely useless and scared as she stood up from her seat, tears were already rolling down her cheeks as her friends tried to reassure her that he's going to be fine. Stella couldn't focus on her friend's words, or the loud screams and shouts coming from all around the rink, all she could focus on was getting to rutger as soon as she could. 

Stella was silent during the car ride to the hospital besides the small sniffles she let out, she couldn't stop crying since they left the rink. Stella was quick to respond to all the texts from Rutgers mom, letting the worried mother know that she was already on the way to the hospital and that she would keep them updated until they could make it to the hospital themselves. 

When Lily pulled into the hospital, the trio rushed into the hospital looking for the room rutger was in. Lily led the way, a panicked Stella being guided by Carmen who was holding her hand, doing her best to reassure her best friend. The image of rutger slamming into the ground, the look of pain on his face and him being on the stretcher kept on flashing through her mind. She would never get that image out of her head. 

After asking a receptionist for directions and a quiet elevator ride, the trio of girls stood in front of Rutgers room. Carmen brought up to Stella that she and Lily would go find a vending machine and get some snacks, so the couple would be alone for a little bit. “It's going to be okay Stella, we'll text you when we're on our way back” Carmen smiled at Stella, squeezing her arm reassuringly before her and Lily walked down the hallway to find the vending machine. 

Stella turned to face the door, her eyes looking at the plaque that had the number of the room on it. 204. Stella let out a nervous and deep breath before she softly knocked on the door to alert that she was coming in. Stella slowly opened the door and peeked her head into the room, her eyes immediately being drawn to the bed in the middle of the room. Rutgers eyes are lifted from his phone where he was trying to text Stella with one hand and to the door, when he hears the knock and the door open. 

“Whoa whoa don't move so fast I ⸺ ” Stella quickly spoke as she rushed to rutgers side, one of her hands moving to his bare shoulder while the other was on his chest, softly stopping him from fully sitting up in the hospital bed. As soon as rutger had seen his girlfriend he had quickly moved to sit up to move closer to her, a look of pain decorating his face at the fast movement. Stella spoke softly, her tone showing just how scared she was for him as she continued speaking, tears brimming in her eyes at the sight of rutger “I’ll come to you.” 

Rutger moved his arm that didn't have the iv in, up and rested his hand on top of the one Stella had on his chest, softly grasping it in his hand and bringing it up to his face; leaning his face into the soft skin of Stella's palm as he slowly leaned back in the bed. Letting himself relax now that she was here. Stella looks away from rutger when she hears the sound of someone clearing their throat and it was then when she realized they were not alone. “I’ll give you guys some privacy, I'm gonna go call coach ⸺ Tell him the news” Brain, the head trainer for the hockey team tells the couple, giving them a small smile before leaving the room.

Stella looks back at Rutger when she hears the soft click of the door closing, and she drops her bag into the chair that was by his bed and moved even closer to him, a few tears slipping out of her eyes and rolling down her cheeks as she really takes in the sight of her boyfriend in the hospital bed. Rutger looks up at his girlfriend and his heart clenches in sadness when he sees the tears “I’m okay pretty girl, please don't cry” rutger mumbled as he used the hand, he was holding to pull her closer, letting her sit on the edge of the bed. 

“I was so scared rut, seeing you down on the ice . . . seeing you get pulled off on that stretcher” Stella sniffed as she shook her head, trying to shake the image out of her mind. She has seen her brothers and her friends getting hit and injured during a game, but this time it was different. The fear she felt was different . . . she never wanted to feel it again. 

“Hey ⸺ Hey, feel” Rutger quickly cut stella off, he could see the wheels spinning in her head, she was starting to panic the more she thought of it. Rutger moved her soft and cold hand from his face to his bare chest and rested it over his heart, letting her feel the rhythmic beat of his heart. “See it's still beating, I’m okay stella” he whispered reassuringly, his eyes not leaving hers. 

Stella nods and brings her free hand to wipe off her tears and the small trace of mascara on her cheeks, she tries to give him a smile but rutger can see right through it and her quivering lip didn't help hide her true feelings. “C’mere pretty girl it's okay” rutger whispered as he gently pulled her down to lay on his chest. Stella closed her eyes and let herself relax against her boyfriend, the rhythmic sound of Rutgers' heartbeat soothing Stella and helping her calm down. 

Rutger used his free hand to softly play with Stella's hair, knowing that it would help calm her down. He hated seeing stella so upset but it also felt a little nice seeing how much she cared for him ⸺ such a weird feeling he didn't know how to explain. The couple stayed like that in silence for a few minutes, just taking in the feeling of being in each other's arms again. But when Stella felt that familiar uncomfortableness in her back from leaning down for so long in an awkward position, she knew she had to sit up.

Stella sat up and softly pulled her hand out of Rutgers gentle grip, she brought both of her hands up to her face and wiped away any tears and mascara off her face. She let out a heavy sigh and looked up from the hospital floor, giving rutger an embarrassed smile  . . . she hated crying in front of people ⸺ which does not work in her favor since she's quite the crybaby. 

“m’sorry” stella whispered with her adorable bashful smile, her fingers were nervously fidgeting in her lap. Now that she had calmed down the self-doubt came creeping in, and now she was starting to worry that she had overreacted. Rutger shakes his head softly with his own smile, reaching his hand up to softly take Stella's eyelash off her cheek. He held it out in front of her and whispered back “Make a wish.” 

Stella couldn't stop the loud giggle to escape past her lips when she heard rutgers words, she opens her mouth to tell him how silly that is but closes it when she sees the sweet but serious look in his eyes. Stella let out a soft hum and leaned closer to his hand, closing her eyes and softly blowing the eyelash as she made her wish. I wish that rutger will never get hurt again. Stella is pulled out of her sweet wish by the sound of the door loudly opening, causing her to flinch away from her boyfriend at the intrusion. 

“Oh, we totally interrupted something” Lily muttered to Carmen as she nudged her with her elbow, noticing the flushed cheeks of the couple. Lily had to stop herself from giggling at the small glare rutger sends her for running there moment. Carmen's eyes widen and she gives the couple a bashful smile as she holds up her arms that were filled with many kit-kat bars, her sweet voice breaking the silence “We got your favorite rutger!” 

°. — taglist ( @privatemythss @jjurajslafkovsky @cixrosie @toasttt11 )

#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨👩🏻‍🎨୧˚ stella hughes au! #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🩷୧˚ stella & rut! #hockey #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #umich hockey #rutger mcgroarty x reader #rutger mcgroarty imagine #rutger mcgroarty au #rutger mcgroarty #umich x reader #umich imagine #umich boys #hughes!sister #hughes sister #nhl x reader #💌stellahughes!

[604to647]

Safest with You - Ch. 1 (The Coffeeshop)

1.4K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: A handsome stranger helps you out with an unfortunate situation at the coffeeshop before work.

Warnings: None? I guess some jerk yells at a cute old lady 😢 so a wee bit of protective Din as well. (No smut, just a meet cute! Gonna be a slow burn, folks!)

A/N: Finally, I'm doing it! This is the start of the Modern AU I'm trying to build; Din is a retired mob enforcer for the Fett family, but they still call him in periodically when they need his strategic know how and/or extra muscle. He never says no - they're his family 🥹 For this meet cute, he's on a job downtown; I say they're in the financial district because I imagine Reader working in a corporate office with a finance related job she loves (she has a methodical mind!), but it’s not really important so you can imagine any office job 😊. There's no implied age gap, so I consider her as either well established or rising in her career. In other words, she's an independent woman and don't need no man 😂

Also I always use this super cute heart divider by @saradika (thank you!)

Series Masterlist

It’s crazy busy in this coffee shop.  Not unexpected of course; the local chain has some of the best coffee in the city, and this particular location is its only one in the downtown financial district.  Everyone, including yourself, was here to get their caffeine fix before heading into the office for the day.

Well, not everyone, you smile to yourself.  The little old lady in front of you doesn’t seem to be in any rush at all; you overhear her ordering her cappuccino in a ‘for here’ mug and a slice of coffee cake “as a treat”, and you’re glad someone, at least, will be having a nice leisurely morning.  When she’s finished at the till, you order and pay for your latte, then make your way to the waiting area where several other patrons are awaiting their orders.

“Ice Quad Espresso in a Venti cup, extra ice and six shots!”

Whoa. That’s a drink, you chuckle to yourself.  Someone must be preparing for a whole ass day.  You look up to see who might collect that caffeine bomb, and can’t help but admire the tall, broad-shouldered stranger who’s flashing the barista a devastatingly handsome smile and a nod of thanks.  Maybe it’s your own lack of caffeine, but you might be gawking a little at the way his wavy dark hair is peppered with grey (a few stray curls seem to stick out in the cutest way possible) and start to think it would be soft to run your hands through.  The fluffy hair matches nicely with his salt and pepper facial hair, neat but not perfectly trimmed, which for some reason you think suits him – he doesn’t look like he has to try very hard to look so adorable.  You’re snapped out of your daze when three more orders are called out in rapid succession, including your own and the little old lady’s.  Both of you, as well as a thin man in an ill-fitting grey suit approach the coffee bar to collect your drinks.  You were the closest, so you reach the counter first, collect your latte and step back to allow room for the others.  The thin man, however, apparently can’t wait and rushes forward to try and push past the old lady, just as she is turning around to look for a seat.  You watch in horror as they crash directly into each other and the old lady’s porcelain mug spills the entirety of its contents on the man before falling to the ground and shattering.  Shocked by the sudden impact, the thin man then flails out his arms, knocking both the old lady and her plate off balance, the latter slipping from her grasp and breaks on the ground as well.  Rushing forward, you help steady the old lady with one hand on her back and letting her grip your other arm.  Thankfully, you’re able to hold her steady and not drop your own drink.  “Are you okay?”, you ask.  Shaking a bit, the old lady nods, “Yes, dear.”

“You fucking bitch!”

Shocked, you look up and see the thin man glaring at the old lady while using his free hand to uselessly try and brush away the coffee that is dripping down the front of his suit jacket.  From the corner of your eye, you see the profile of the handsome Quad Ice man as he takes one step forward to intervene, but you beat him to the punch. “Excuse you?  You don’t fucking talk to her like that!”, you say with a bite to your tone.  How dare this effing guy?

“Look at this fucking mess!  She ruined my suit!”

“I’m sor-”, you hear the old lady start to say, so you place a reassuring hand on her arm, hopefully conveying that she doesn’t have to apologize to this neanderthal.  Stepping between the two of them, you look directly at the jerk and extend an accusing finger in his direction, “It was an accident! Which wouldn’t have happened if you had just waited your turn.”

“I’m in a hurry!  Some of us have very important meetings to get to.  And now the meeting is completely ruined because of this fucking mess!”

This guy.  You roll your eyes.  “If the people you work with don’t respect you because of a little bit of coffee on your clothes then you have much bigger problems.” And with that, you’re done with him, turning and crouching down to help the old lady who has unnecessarily started to try and clean the mess. 

Your back is turned, so you don’t know if the thin man tried to approach or if he had started to say something, but you hear a deep, rich voice from above say with quiet authority, “You owe both these women an apology.”  Looking up, you see the the imposing figure of the Quad Ice stranger standing over you and the old lady, almost protectively, shielding you both from the thin man’s view.  The hand not holding his crazy drink order is clenched in a tight fist; his hands are huge and you can see a scars of varying sizes and age littered over his knuckles. You know without a doubt that this man knows how to fight.  There’s a energy radiating from the man towering above you; you don’t know how to explain it, but it doesn’t feel dangerous?  Instead, it feels warm and you instinctively know you’re safer having him there. 

Regardless, you don’t want this cute old lady’s morning ruined any further so you decide it’s better to diffuse.  Touching his clenched fist and smiling softly when you have Quad Ice’s attention, you let him know to let it go, “It’s really okay.  Do you mind grabbing me a few napkins?”  His gaze down on you is soft, yet still protective; however, he takes his cue from your expression and lets the thin man leave, before bringing you a stack of paper napkins and squatting down to help.

“You shouldn’t have to help, dear.”

You give the old lady’s arm a gentle squeeze to wave off her concern, and you and Quad Ice start carefully picking up pieces of porcelain and putting down napkins to soak up the spilled coffee.  You reach over and put your hand gently over his, “Careful, it’s sharp.”  He gives you a smile and nods. 

Finally, a staff member comes over with a mop and lets the three of you know you don’t need to clean up any more and gives thanks.

As Quad Ice goes to throw away the porcelain pieces you’ve been collecting in a napkin, the old lady exclaims, “Oh no!  My dear, I got you too!”  You look down and see that you do indeed have a giant coffee stain near the hem of your skirt.  Oops! You don’t want her to feel bad though, “Oh, it’s okay!  I've done worse.  Don’t worry, I have a very friendly dry cleaner.”  You try your best let her know you’re not bothered, but the old lady still looks devastated.

“Come now, let’s make sure you get your morning treat.”  To distract her, you gently steer the old lady back to the till and order another cappuccino and coffee cake for her.  You absolutely insist on paying, hoping to help make up for the terrible morning she’s had so far.  She tries to argue, but the kind barista lets you both know it’s on the house and then that’s that.  After you've walked the old lady to the waiting area, you look at your phone, and realize you need to leave if you’re going to make the first meeting of your day, “Here’s where I have to leave you!  I hope your day gets much better from here.”

The old lady gives you her sincerest thanks, but you’re still somewhat reluctant to leave her.  From behind you, a familiar voice says in a comforting tone, “I’ll make sure she’s okay.”  You turn around to see that Quad Ice hasn’t left and is giving you a warm smile, as if he knows how worried you still are and wants to put your mind at ease.  The little old lady is now nodding reassuringly at you as well, and with that, you give the handsome stranger’s forearm a light squeeze as a thanks and you say good bye to them both.

---

As you take your first sip of coffee while sitting down to your meeting, you can’t help but recall the stranger’s deep chocolate brown eyes and the warmth they exuded in that last look he gave you and you wish you at least knew his name.

#din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #din djarin fic #din djarin x you #modern au #no y/n

[drapopia]

hard day's work

pairing: papa emeritus ii x reader

warnings: some small mentions of getting hot and heavy, the usual mention of secondo and the reader having a healthy sex life

summary: For a man who boasts of a plush king sized bed, Secondo surely loves falling asleep in an armchair with a good book, to the despair of his back the next day.

word count: 1.4k

authors note: whoa buddy, here's another ghost drabble! i have a hard time with secondo's personality, especially in softer, domestic spaces. i just hope i've done a sort of okay job? with time comes improvement! hopefully ya'll enjoy it, feedback is highly appreciated! :)

————

The room is silent, save for the hum of the central heating and the occasional flip of a page. 

Well, it’s almost silent. Secondo sits in the corner of the room in his armchair made of lush velvet, a dark green that stands out against the muted gray robe he wears. You can see the slow rise and fall of his chest, his head reclined back against the chair at an angle. You can tell that if you don’t wake him soon, he’ll wake up tomorrow with a grumble and a hiss, and you would have to rub the knots from the base of his neck with a coo and a kiss. Not that you mind, but you don't want him in pain, even if he enjoys the feel of your hands on his sorest spots. 

His hands rest on his lap, the book he was reading was slowly but surely slipping out of his hands. His breath is still light and even, a far cry from the usual deep snores he lets out when he’s checked out for the day. From your spot on the loveseat across the room, you can see his nose twitching in the cold air. Although being curled up in the fleece blanket on the couch is appealing, the thought of leaving him in the cold, even while dozing, makes your heart twinge in distress. How many times had he roused you from your sleep after a long movie, picking you up gingerly and tucking you into your shared bed? You couldn’t count, you couldn’t help but feel comfortable around him. You always had, even when you first entered the Ministry. 

With a sigh, you pull yourself up from your sitting position, walking as quietly as possible towards him. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you got closer to him, standing beside and gazing down at him. His face was bare of paint, his eyes only holding a small smudge of black at the tightest corners of his crows feet. His nose was still twitching with the rise and fall of his chest, his breath light and slow. As quietly and gently as possible, you reach for his book to pull it from his loose grasp. Your hands close around it, and mark it to keep his place. Turning it over, you inspect the cover with a small smile. He was re-reading Crime and Punishment. You had teased him many times about it, how he would scoff and roll his eyes about his distaste for older Russian literature. How he felt it went on and on, was repugnantly repetitive, self pitying and obnoxious. But here he was, turning the pages once more of a book he ‘despised’. 

Shaking your head, you turn towards him once more and place your hand on his cheek. You feel the harsh contours of his face, thankful that you couldn’t feel any tension in the apples of his cheeks. This week had been hard on him so far, and it was only Wednesday. You had found him earlier in his office when you stopped with a teeny-tiny quick pick-me-up espresso. While he had thanked you with a kiss and a light squeeze of your hand in his, you had seen the way his shoulders remained bunched with tension, how his hands had a tremor as they held the tiny cup in his hand. And now here he was, as docile as the lambs he spoke of in his captivating sermons at Mass. 

Leaning forward, you press a kiss to his cheek and pull away a fraction, noticing the way his eyelids twitched and his small mustache scrunched up. Smiling, you pepper kisses on his cheeks, as delicately as you can muster. A soft huff of breath hits your neck from where you’re positioned. 

“Cara, what are you doing?” He murmurs, a ricochet of heat hitting your stomach at the deliciously rich timbre of his voice. A large hand, free of his gloves and comfortably warm, hits your hip. You pull back slowly, meeting his gaze as he blinks his syrupy eyes to clear the sleepiness. 

“You know you can’t sleep here, you’ll be groaning all day tomorrow. This armchair doesn’t look all that comfortable, to be quite honest.” You whisper softly. 

“That’s what you think.” He says quietly, the corners of his lips barely noticeable and curling into an almost imperceptible grin. Secondo was more permissible, a tad bit more open when he was slowly slipping from sleep. His eyes held a softness, his words losing their bite. And while you loved the cold charm of him in the day, it always made your heart skip a beat to see him so delightfully unguarded when he woke to the sight of you. 

You pat his chest softly with your hand, raising up with a soft puff. “Come on, we’ve gotta get you into bed.” Your lips turn up at the corners at his small huff of exertion, extending your hands in an inviting gesture towards him. He slides up the armchair, stretching out slightly as he grabs your arms to pull himself up with a groan. And just as he rises from the chair, his arms come to wrap themselves around you, gazing down at you. 

He looks at you, a fond smile on his face. Without the guards of papal paint or his sunglasses, his face was so kind. So much easier to see the way the creases on his forehead melted, the way his eyes crinkled with barely concealed adoration. “Sleep? I suppose we could.” He rasps, leaning in to press a kiss against your lips. HIs accent was deliciously thicker in the throes of sleepiness, and you felt the hair on your neck rise. 

You return the kiss, your lips moving in a well practiced synchronicity. But unlike the passionate nights you shared and the lascivious words he would whisper in your ear with no shame, there was no heat behind the kisses you were exchanging now. Even as his hands curled behind your back, tracing the curve of your spine with dedication and reverence. You smile against the kiss, breaking it as you pull back. 

“Come on,” you whisper and press a kiss to the tip of his nose before he could scoff in mock distaste. “I’ll warm up the heating blanket, maybe give you a back rub? Read you some more of that delicious Russian literature you like so much?” You say teasingly, grabbing his hand and walking towards your large bedroom the two of you found respite in every day. In each other's bodies, words, and simple gestures. 

“I hate Dostoevsky, you know this.” He grumbles, ambling beside you to wrap his arm around your waist and pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as your feet hit the plush carpet of your room. 

“Of course, of course. And that’s why you fell asleep with it in your hands.” You smile, rolling your eyes. You reach the bed, pulling back the duvet. Slipping in with a sigh, you pull the covers up to your neck and nestle in, much like a rabbit in its burrow. 

Secondo slips off his robe, completely naked. Before you can admire him, he slips into bed beside you and pulls the covers over himself. Maybe tomorrow you can catch a quick peek, but for tonight, you'll be content with the heat of him beside you.

“I had to bore myself, send myself off to sleep, no?” He leans back against the pillows, gesturing lackadaisically for you to lay against him. You shuffle closer to him, his warmth a soothing balm to the unease of the day. 

“Just come curl up with me instead, problem solved.” You murmur, and Secondo chuckles at your comment as he leans over to flick off the lamp on his nightstand. 

“What do you think it is we’re doing here, amore? I want you here with me, not the dreadful pages of a self pitying bastard pouring his heart out.” He says softly, his eyes falling closed. Papa is still tired, the rise and fall of his chest becoming more even. Your hands reach out instinctively, patting his tummy with as much care as possible. 

“That almost sounds like an ‘I love you’, Secondo.” You say quietly, the tease barely noticeable under your exhaustion, feeling your own eyes slip closed under the weight of the darkness over you both. His hands pull you closer, his chest hair a cushion on your cheek. 

“I do love you.” He says softly, the soft silence around the two of you relaxing the both of you quicker than you’d like to admit. “Now shush, amore.” He says firmly, but with no bite. You smile to yourself, and all you hear is the soft breathing of your Papa, your best friend beside you. 

#the band ghost #ghost the band #secondo #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus ii x reader #ghost bc #secondo emeritus x reader #reader insert #ghost fanfiction #x reader #secondo emeritus

[lilyrachelcassidy]

People

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

A/N: enjoy! 

Summary: He is a fool for cheating on her, but she is a bigger fool for missing him. (inspired by “People” Libianca)

Warnings: language, cheating, probably some angst stuff 

Word Count: 1.4k

------------------

She entered the threshold of the Slytherin Common Room, the intoxication impishly playing with her mind. Usually, Y/N would be the one to complain about the tumult on her free days, she was not a big fan of throngs or deafening music. But today she didn’t mind at all. 

No, she actually liked- adored! that cloying smell of alcohol and sweat, the bodies of people she acknowledged for the first time pressing tightly against her, the pumping music in her head, the inebriation that made her want to... giggle. 

She wanted nothing more but to giggle. 

“Hey, you made it!” The voice behind her said with the pitchy, surprised tone. Y/N spun around to face Pansy, and then she giggled yet again because she couldn’t recall that Pansy had two pairs of eyes. 

“I did!” Y/N shouted back, trying to be audible enough in the room permeated by loud music. Someone suddenly bumped into her and she, with the highest stilettos she could find and without any sense of balance, slowly started descending to the floor with her face at the fore. Luckily, the hand clutched at her arm, preventing the possibility of her face meeting the dangerously upcoming panels. 

“Whoa, there.” Pansy frowned at her. “How many drinks have you had?” 

“Like three...” she replied, squinting through the stupor. “Plus ten.” 

“What?” said Pansy, utterly shocked. She was keenly aware that Y/N wasn’t a big connoisseur nor a binger of the alcohol. It must have tripled the effects of it on her. “Come, let’s get you on one of the sofas.”

“No!” Y/N protested as Pansy’s arm dragged her. “I want to dance!” 

“Y/N...” 

“No... Dancing!” 

“How do you want to dance if you keep stumbling?” Pansy dug her talons into Y/N’s arm so that she would cease her tugs with a poor attempt of trying to extricate herself. 

“Ouch! Fine, then, fine! But I have to go to the bathroom!” 

Pansy rolled her eyes so much it mentally pained Y/N to watch her. “Okay, go then! But if I see you on the dance floor again, I’m taking you straight to your dorm.”

With a final huff, Y/N spun on the balls of her feet and clumsily padded to the loo. When she entered, no one was there which Y/N was immensely grateful for.  She eyed herself critically in the reflection and she hated what she saw: puffed, reddened eyes; disheveled hair; mascara slowly cascading down her cheeks. For once, Y/N was thankful for the dim lighting of the Common Room because she was certain that her appearance would raise a lot of questions in her friends’ mouths. 

She hated Mattheo for that. For what he had mushed her into -- some scuzzy laggard who can’t handle to be in a social gathering without crying her eyes out in front of the entire school. 

It was so embarrassing. She was so mortified. 

Y/N finally deciding that nothing is going to fix that look anyways, went into one of the cubicles. A few seconds later she heard the bubbly voices intruding the silence.

“Have you seen? That Mattheo guy finally found someone from his own league.”

“I know. It must be so hard on Y/N, though.” 

“Are you kidding me?!” The voice let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Y/L is a bitch! She deserved it! The last time I talked to her she seemed so... sanctimonious. That little bitch couldn’t even cover the snort when I told her I’m in Hufflepuff.” 

“Yeah, you are right...” The other voice reluctantly admitted. “She acts as though she ruled the school.” 

“We will see about that. I hope--” 

But the girl broke off in the middle of sentence when she saw Y/N finally coming out of the cubicle, her mien sour. She exited mostly because she didn’t want to hear the rest of the speculations on what a bitch or whore she was. 

Both girls gawked, and Y/N silently let the girls pass to the egress as she approached the sink. When the pair disappeared from the view, Y/N sighed. 

“And a good day to you too.” 

Anger bubbled within her when she finally made her way out of the bathroom. With the possibility of tripping down, Y/N thought it a good idea to take her shoes off, and she plodded over to the sitting area where Pansy instructed her to come by. 

What she didn’t expect, however, was seeing Mattheo kissing with some skimpy-looking girl right in the corner of her pathway. Her heart stopped beating. Or she felt like it stopped beating, but that didn’t matter because she was already making her way over to the pair, her heavy steps thudding on the floor. 

The worst part was they didn’t even notice someone tramping towards them which enraged Y/N to the point she had never thought she would reach -- with wrath virtually blinding her. 

Before she knew it, she was already hurling her heels at both of them and it seems that with her rage so did she obtain a new superpower of a perfect aim because she heard the girl yelp. 

“What the...?” she screech. “My face!” 

“Be happy that I didn’t plug it into your eye!” Y/N neared to her, ready to take a second thwack but someone put a distance between the two of them. It took her a couple of moments to recover from that flash of anger until she finally fathomed that it was Mattheo who put a healthy distance between her and the mysterious slut. 

“Y/N, calm down--” 

“Calm down?! How they fuck am I supposed to calm down?!” She took her second heel and started yielding it like a karambit right in front of his eyes. Mattheo made a poor attempt to taking it away from her, but unsuccessfully so. “How many, Mattheo, how many?!” 

“How many what?” He sounded stern. Y/N knew it was probably due to the limelight he received right now, but she couldn’t care less. 

“Girls! How many were there?!” 

“Please, let’s not make a scene.” His eyes obtained a pleading quality as though he was trying to assuage this situation with his gaze. 

“Well, too fucking late for that now, Riddle, don’t you think?” The hoarse laugh left her throat she didn't even know she was able to pull off. She detested him now, with every fiber of her body. A strong want to kill him arose within her. 

“Y/N, pleas--” 

“You’ve already made it a scene, didn’t you?! Or more likely a drama show, no? Since you started sleeping around with every girl that you laid your fucking eyes on; I became a precious Lamb, and you became a successful Womanizer who happens to deal with his oblivious girlfriend. Is that what you wanted?” 

“Nobody thinks that, I--” 

“Oh, really?!” Her eyes gained on a new tone of maniac. “So I probably must have misheard some girls in the bathroom, talking about us, about you cheating one me, and how poor I am?” 

“You must be joking, right? You must be crazy for believing some... girls that say I’ve been cheating on you. It’s one-time thing, I swear...” 

“I don’t believe them! But I believe my gut! I have smelled thousands of different scents on you, Mattheo. Female scents with very poor tastes in perfumes! You tell me that you go to the Quiddich practices or go to study in the library, but when I come over to surprise you, the only surprised one is me! Because Quiddich practices never happen and studying sessions only base on... snogging other people!” Tears started trickling down her face and Y/N hated exposing her vulnerability right in from of the crowds of students who were now watching the entire situation with baffled expressions. She clearly hadn’t thought this through. “Look what you have turned me into!” She gestured at herself. “I’m a wreck, Mattheo! For the past few weeks, I have been walking around with the reddened eyes, I have been skipping meals because I couldn't handle the thought of looking at you, all chirpy because you got a good lay with someone!” 

“Y/N-” 

“I know that we may have some problems, you and I, but it doesn't excuse cheating, for Merlin’s beard! And-” 

“Y/N, please, let’s talk about this.” 

“There is nothing to talk about anymore, Mattheo. We are done.” And with that, she wrenched herself out of Mattheo’s grip but with a sudden haze fogging her eyes, she twirled, lost balance, and blankness inundated her. It only seemed like a distant background was filled with gasps and someone was screaming her name. 

#Mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo x y/n #Harry Potter #Benjamin Wadsworth #Benjamin Wadsworth x reader #Slytherin #mattheo riddle fanfiction

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐬

Christmas shopping was a dangerous mistake, Bucky realised, and all he could do was hope that in the end, he could rein you in, and you wouldn’t go home with the whole entire store. 

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ღ Nurse!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ღ 1.4k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ღ Fluff

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ღ Not going to lie, this is my version of heaven.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ღ @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐀 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Let’s get out today,” Bucky said earlier that morning, sipping placidly at his extra strong coffee — hair loose down his neck, and warm sweater snug on his broad shoulders. “I want to take you out.”

You looked out from your blanket huddle, eyes curious, and you met his gaze steadily. “Where?”

“There’s a stuffie store–”

Bucky had not even finished his sentence before you threw the blankets off with a flourish, and rushed to your feet. “Let’s– Whoa.” The blood pooled in your feet and you fell back down onto the couch with an “oof,” before you looked at Bucky, who, to his credit, simply looked unimpressed. 

“Hakuna your tatas, sweetheart.” 

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Don’t use Disney puns on me, jerk.” 

Bucky shrugged. “Punk.”

With his help, you managed to make it to the bedroom and change your clothes — a favourite Christmas sweater of yours, while Bucky changed into the other of the matching pair. 

The air outside was chilled when you opened the front door of the apartment, but you dashed towards the passenger side door of Bucky’s car. “C’mon, lazy bones! I wanna go!”

“Alright, alright,” Bucky laughed from the doorway, shaking his head. “Have you got everything? Medications, snacks, all that?” You shook the bag that was strapped over your shoulder, and beamed at him. “Good girl,” he praised, and he shut the front door before he made his way over to kiss you on the forehead. “Now we can go.”

Once Bucky parked his car in a free space at the mall, you rushed out of the passenger seat and bounced on the heels of your feet. 

“I’m so excited,” you rushed, clapping your hands with uncontained glee. The shop that Bucky mentioned in the car was just visible from where you were standing, and you could see that it was lit up entirely — warm strings of fairy lights coupled with the rainbow bulbs of traditional Christmas lights offset one another perfectly. Two Christmas trees stood either side of the entryway. “It looks so pretty!”

“Not as pretty as my girl,” Bucky said, his smile soft; eyes even softer. 

The compliment made you squeak with embarrassment. “Bucky!”

“What?” he laughed, offering his hand for you to hold. “C’mon.”

You took it and hauled through the parking lot and into the mall. The warmth inside the mall made you sigh with relief. “Better?” Bucky asked, and you nodded. “It’s over here,” he said, walking sedately towards the entrance of the stuffie store. 

As the large doorway neared, you struggled to contain your happiness. 

Bucky noticed as much and gently swung your arm with his, all while grinning at you. “Never seen you so happy, Sugar,” he observed, and he walked closer to kiss your temple. “I love your smile so damn much.” 

The sweet action made you scrunch up your nose in embarrassment. “Stop.”

“No.” 

There were displays next to the Christmas trees, and you stopped abruptly to take them in. Numerous reindeer, moose, and all manner of creatures were wearing fluffy, red Santa hats. “Oh, my gosh, look at them all,” you breathed, “They’re so cute!” 

Bucky grunted with surprise as you tugged him into the store, your excitement now exceeding your ability to keep any semblance of normalcy.  

“Just hold on a second, baby,” Bucky rushed, laughing a little at your eagerness. You turned on your heel to look at him, and he hesitated slightly before he said, “Remember I can’t buy all of them–” 

He looked crestfallen — disappointed in his inability to provide all of what you wanted. 

“I am just excited, Buck,” you said happily. “I get to spend time with you and I get to look at Christmas stuffies, what more could I want?”

You watched as his expression softened into something that resembled relief. “Thank you, Sugar.”

“Of course,” you whispered, and you kissed his cheek. “Let’s go look at all the babies.”

The interior of the store was homely and rustic; a sense of whimsical, too, thanks to the use of fairies and mushroom stools dotting the space. Bears and teddies filled the shelves, bursting with soft coats and knitted coats and all manners of materials. It was a sight to behold, given they were all hand made by local crafters. 

“They’re really cute,” Bucky remarked, pointing at the box of cat plushies. All of which had Santa hats or reindeer antlers. He walked over and bent to pick up a fluffy, white cat with a giant set of antlers. “I’ll get this one, I think.”

“‘Cos it’s Alpine?” you wondered aloud. Bucky grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “You’re such a good dad.”

“Why thank you, baby,” he teased, winking. 

You snorted a laugh and walked towards a wall with all kinds of animal stuffies. Bucky came up behind you and rested his chin on your shoulder; his arms cradled you to his chest by wrapping around your waist. “What’re you thinkin’, cutie?”

“I’m thinkin’,” you parroted, looking at the row of dog stuffies, then the farm animals, then the wild, safari ones. “That I love them all.”

“Y’know, if I could, I would buy you all of them,” Bucky said wistfully, “but I also don’t think our apartment has the room for all of ‘em.”

“Details, shmetails,” you mumbled, waving your hand to dismiss the logic. Bucky laughed and wandered off to the more traditional festive teddies. “Which of you want to come home with me,” you continued to yourself a little quieter, still gazing up and down the wall. “Can’t take all of you home today.”

On the third pass over, you paused upon spotting a family of stuffies. They were reminiscent of the animals in one of your favourite movies, but these ones had an assortment of Santa and elf hats, reindeer antlers, and fluffy winter hats. You moved closer and looked at them, carefully brushing the fabric with a finger tip to feel the softness of the material, and you fell in love. 

“You are coming home with me,” you decided aloud. 

Carefully, you moved the teddies that were in front of the family out of the way, and you bunched them into your arms. They were big — big enough to be from your chest to your hips, and you grinned widely as you tottered off in search of your boyfriend. “Bucky? Where are you?”

An answering “Over here, baby,” sounded from the Christmas specialty corner, and you walked over to find him holding a ginormous teddy. He started to turn around as he said, “I thought of you– Oh, my god, Sugar…”

You beamed at him and shook the stuffies in your arms. “Look at them!”

He pointedly glanced at the stuffies, then up to your face. “Those are the ones?”

“These are the ones,” you affirmed. For added measure, you pouted and widened your eyes a little. “Please, babe? Please?”

Bucky sighed, shook his head, and then he grinned. “Yeah, you can have ‘em.” He held up the giant teddy he held. “And this one, too. He can wear one of my sweaters while I’m at work.”

You seemed to float to the counter where an elderly lady served you, her motherly smile charming in a way that you could only say reminded you of your own motherly figure. “Now, you dears get home safe, now, y’hear?” she said.

“You got it,” Bucky replied, and he grabbed the huge bag of stuffies off the counter. “Thank you—have a good Christmas.”

“You as well, my dears.”

When you finally arrived home, after bouncing in your seat for the entirety of the drive, the first port of call was to grab your new stuffies and bring them inside. Only, Bucky put a halt to that plan. “You’ve had enough excitement for the day,” he insisted sternly, and no amount of pouting changed his mind. “Go sit down on the couch and I’ll bring ‘em to you, okay?”

A frustrated huff from you, and a cup of hot chocolate later, you sat on the couch in the living room making grabby hands for the big bag the two of you had brought home. 

Bucky obliged, and he handed you your new family of stuffies, one by one. Each new friend made your smile stretch wider and wider, your heart soaring with the happiness of it all — the day had turned out perfect. 

The soft, fluffy, white cat Bucky had affectionately called Miffy sat perched on his lap, his hands running over the soft material of their fur. 

You looked at him, catching his gaze, only to stare into his eyes. They were so, so blue; the depths of them deep and churning with such a softness. 

“Can we make this a tradition? For us—of our own?” you asked quietly. 

His eyes lit up. “‘Course we can, baby. I was hoping you’d ask me that.”

And from that day onwards, you made sure to maintain it — even if you snuck in multiple trips per year.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #MB #rookthorne's works

[lolahasmoxie]

let's get to the good part (e.m)

Words: 1.4k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x childhood best friend

Warnings: mentions of sexual acts (some somno stuff because yes, please), awkward conversations, Eddie and Wayne being cute AF.

Part 3 in my series. Takes place right after Part 2.

Part 1 / Part 2

You pulled your car into Benny's parking lot. After turning off the engine, you sat staring ahead, hands on the steering wheel. This was different from how you had foreseen your Saturday going.

It had started with Eddie's face between your thighs, setting your senses on fire as the sun began to crest over the horizon. He had also managed to sneak into the shower with you under the guise of "conserving water." It took minutes for you both to resort to a tangling mass of giggly limbs as he took you under the shower spray.

That was part that you had planned for. You weren't prepared for Eddie on the phone as you exited your bedroom after getting dressed. You weren't prepared for Eddie to tell you that Wayne and Ronnie wanted him to ask you to join them for breakfast.

Now you were here. You had taken your own car because you weren't ready to answer Ronnie's questions. And you knew he would have questions because he was amazingly perceptive for a four-year-old and Eddie's nosy mini-me. You would also have to sit in front of his uncle and pretend like Eddie hadn't completely ruined for all other men the previous night.

The bell over the door announced your arrival, and you didn't have to look long before you heard Ronnie calling your name. You couldn't help but smile as you saw Eddie and Wayne wave at you. The elder Munsons were seated on one side of the booth, and Ronnie all but dragged you to sit next to him. Before you could even say hello, he told you about what he and Grandpa Wayne had done the night before.

"Whoa, son," Wayne chastized as Eddie flagged down a waitress. "She just got here; try again."

"Oh yeah," he said before getting on his knees on the booth seat to see you better. "Hi."

"Hi, Ronnie." You couldn't help but smile as he told you about his night. While he recapped the scary movie he had watched with Wayne, you couldn't help but glance up to see Eddie looking at you. His pretty face rested on his hand, his gaze making you feel the same warmness you had felt when he woke you up. When he winked at you, you were shocked you hadn't melted into a puddle on the linoleum floor.

45 minutes later, after you'd had much-needed coffee and waffles smothered in maple syrup, you wondered if every Saturday could be like this. You were laughing at a story Wayne told when Ronnie alerted the table that he needed to pee. Wayne offered, but Eddie shook his head.

"I'm on the outside; I got him. Let's go, little man." You couldn't help but watch the two of them. The way Ronnie looked up at Eddie, the gentle way that Eddie led him. Your brain couldn't help but conjure an image of Eddie leading another rugrat with his other hand. You were met with a knowing smirk when you turned back to Wayne.

"I take it Eddie stayed the night?" You nearly spit out the coffee in your mouth as he took a sip from his own cup. You buried your face in your hands as you willed the floor to swallow you whole.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Just a hunch," he said as he leaned towards you. "'Sides," he continued, "the way his face lit up when you walked in told me pretty much everything." Wayne sighed as he looked out the window in front. "You also didn't quite get that hickey on your neck." You grumble as your hand goes to cover the mark. "You know, he's loved you since he was 13 years old."

"He told me that last night." You admit, a coy smile on your lips.

"I don't think he knew what it was, but I could tell. You two were attached at the hip the moment you met," he chuckled. "thick as thieves, passed out in the living room every weekend while you watched those cheesy-ass horror movies."

You chuckled at the memories of your childhood. "We had to be sat apart in EVERY class we had together in elementary school."

"Oh, I know it," he replied. "When did you realize you loved him?" You sat silently, hating how Wayne could always read you so well.

"Beginning of senior year. It was like I was seeing him for the first time. It felt like someone had turned on this switch in my brain, and...boom." Wayne nodded in understanding.

"Well, I'm glad everything worked out. Just," he paused as he took a deep breath. "Eddie's always been a gentler soul than he lets on. He feels everything deeply; when Ronnie's mama ran out, he was a wreck. And Ronnie is the same way, so..."

"Wayne, is this your "don't hurt him or else" speech?" you ask with a grin. Wayne just shrugs his shoulders as he sips from his mug.

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling. I know you'll be good to them. He really struck gold the day he met you." You want to cry at the compliment, especially since Wayne holds them close to his vest.

"All done!" Ronnie breaks the moment as he clambers next to you. "Daddy, let's go to the park! Y/N can come, and she can push me on the..."

"Whoa there," Eddie says as Ronnie practically vibrates in his seat. "Y/N might have plans today; you can't just assume..."

"It's ok, Eds," you interject softly as you glance down at Ronnie. "An afternoon in the park with my two favorite boys sounds perfect."

Later that night, Eddie carries a sleepy Ronnie to bed. When they left the park, Ronnie talked about how he couldn't wait to see you again. Eddie smiled as Ronnie drifted off midsentence when he tucked him in. When Eddie climbed into his bed, he wondered what you were doing. Within seconds he reached for the phone, dialing your number and hoping you were awake.

"Hello?"

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No," you said softly. "Is Ronnie asleep?"

"Yeah. You know, he talked about you all evening."

"Oh yeah? I bet you hated that."

"I did, it was awful," Eddie said as he made himself comfortable. "I'm glad you came with us."

"Me too," you said softly. "Hopefully, I'll get to see you both..."

"I love you." There's silence after Eddie's gentle declaration. He can hear you breathe on the other end, and he can't stop himself from holding back. "I love you, and I know that this may be fast. I know it is, but nothing about this feels weird or wrong, right? It feels like this is all how it was always supposed to be, and I..."

"Eds." He stops when he hears you call his name. You wonder if he remembers any of his 3am declaration of love the night before. Still, it makes your heart palpitate. "I love you too."

"You do?" His voice is soft and unsure,

"Of course, after all this time, how could I not? And I agree; this feels right. Makes me think about all the time we wasted."

"Does that mean you might want to see me Friday?"

"Hell, I'd see you now if I wasn't afraid of falling asleep behind the wheel." He could hear you yawn; he could picture you stretching out in your bed. "So, is it a date?"

"Hell yeah!" he says enthusiastically but groans a second later." "Shit, Wayne won't be able to come over to watch Ronnie. He's going on a fishing trip with some guys from work."

"Just bring Ronnie." Your comment was stated like it was so obvious. As if there could be any other solution to this predicament.

"You mean it?"

"Of course, we could order dinner and watch some movies. And if you spend the night, we can get to the good stuff when he goes to bed." You can hear Eddie groan lightly, a smirk on your face when you realize you have him hook, line, and sinker.

"You're evil. You put a tantalizing situation like that in my head, and now I have to wait six days to see you again. You're a cruel mistress."

"I'll call you tomorrow night; we can talk then."

"Promise?"

"I promise," you giggle. "Love you, Eds."

"Love you too, Sweetheart. Now go to sleep."

"Night, Eddie."

"Night, Y/N." Eddie placed the phone back on the receiver. Oh, how he simply couldn't wait to get to the good part.

------------------------------------------

@kimmi-kat @feltonswifesworld87 @mrsmunsonxquinn @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @hahahafucku @emilyroxy @ihatepeanutss @mackyboo21

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #wayne munson #dad!eddie munson

[kyuuppi]

Pairing: Wanderer x Reader (gn)

Contents: established relationship; fluff; Wanderer uses demeaning names for Reader (but still loves them); soft Wanderer; bad at feelings Wanderer; consumption of fish

Word Count: 1.4k

Scaramouche would have never imagined that he would be here.

Then again, there were many aspects of Wanderer's life that Scaramouche would have never imagined. Like this moment now, bustling around the tiny kitchen of a cozy apartment and impatiently glancing at the clock every few seconds. He stirs away at a bubbling pot of pasta to ensure it doesn’t burn on the bottom but remains warm enough to serve when you finally arrive.

Speaking of which where the fuck are you, you promised you’d be home early today— he had made sure of it before you left this morning. But’s already half past six and you’re usually home by six fifteen so you probably forgot and now his plans are ruined and—

The obnoxiously familiar jingle of keys followed by the squeak of the front door interrupts Wanderer’s thoughts. His shoulders slightly droop with relief as he turns off the stove bringing the pot over to the neatly arranged dining room table to finally plate the meal. 

“Took you long enough,” Wanderer says as if it were a proper greeting. And perhaps for him, it may as well be.

As usual, his sharp words fall off your back like water, much too used to his pissy attitudes by now, several years into knowing each other and nearly a year into a romantic relationship. 

“Sorry,” you huff out as you finally shrug the heavy tote bag off your shoulder. 

“I ran into Tigh on the way back from the market while I was picking up some new books,” you begin to explain as you shuffle into the dining area. 

“He said he was looking for spices Collei requested for her new recipe. Oh, have you ever had her pita pockets before? I know you’re picky about food but they’re actually really good and I think you– whoa … what is this? ”

Your story is cut short as you finally seem to take in the setting before you. As your eyes dart across the table your mouth falls open, appearance akin to that of a goldfish. If he weren’t so uncharacteristically nervous, Wanderer might have laughed at you for how dumb you look. 

But instead, he silently places the emptied pot in the sink, uncaring of the intimidatingly large pile of dirty dishes—he’ll get to those later. 

With quick strides, he returns to the dining table, taking a seat in front of one of the two plates of steaming rosé pasta, violet eyes seeming to glow in the dim candlelight as he shoots you an expectant look. 

“What does it look like, dumbass? It’s a candlelit dinner,” Wanderer sneers, “now hurry the fuck up and eat before it gets cold. I put a lot of effort in this shit, y’know.”

As Wanderer stabs a picks up a bundle of spaghetti noodles with his chopsticks you seem to finally regain your wits, forcing yourself to move and take a seat as you glance between the crystal vase at the center of the table, filled with deep red dendrobrium accented by thin branches of sakura bloom, the dancing flames of the osmanthus-scented candles placed strategically around the room, and the generous helping of what appeared to be cod roe pasta with rosé sauce plated on the finest china you two owned–a housewarming gift from Zhongli. It most certainly is the epitome of a candlelit dinner if anyone had ever seen one. 

Wanderer tries to look unaffected as he digs into his own dinner but he finds himself tensing as you promptly take your first bite. You hardly even chew it before your eyes close in bliss and you moan out words of praise that make his chest burn with something akin to pride. 

"Your cooking is always so amazing,” you proclaim.

"This is nothing special. Any fool could make a decent pasta," Wanderer shrugs off.

He hopes his ears don’t look as red as they feel as he hurriedly shovels more pasta in his mouth just to have something else to focus on. Praise was something he had always sought–whether from his creator or a nameless mass of devout followers. It made him feel powerful, above all others, like an archon .

And yet, somehow, praise from you felt completely different. Your praises sent a flutter through his chest cavity that he was sure should not be physically possible. Rather than feeling stronger than anyone else, your praises made him feel just strong enough . Just worthy enough to exist, to atone for his sins, to stand beside you. And he thinks the most disturbing part of it all is how satisfied he is with just that. A vengeful, artificial god who once dreamed of ruling all of Teyvat now equally happy just being by your side–what a strange joke.

"But," you hesitantly start, breaking Wanderer from his self-reflections, "what's all of this for?"

His reply is simple, "today is the day of that silly holiday mortals celebrated in your world, isn't it."

You nearly choke on a noodle at the implication.

“We're celebrating Valentine's Day ?"

Wanderer shoots you an annoyed glare at your incredulous tone before abruptly pulling away from the dining table and approaching your side instead. You’re still seated and gaping at him like an idiot with a pair of chopsticks in your hand, a clump of noodles limply hanging off of them. 

"Of course,” he answers smoothly, “we're a couple now, aren't we? And you're quite lucky because my generosity today does not end with dinner."

Wanderer kneels down on one knee before you, a sight no one in Teyvat or even worlds beyond could have ever imagined possible for the egotistical puppet obsessed with the notion of reaching godhood. 

But Wanderer was no longer that vengeful Balladeer anymore. He is merely a wanderer, living as a mortal alongside the person who was somehow able to capture his nonexistent heart and give his life a newfound meaning filled with simple joys he never thought possible. And now, he can only hope to return just a fraction of the happinesses you have given him in the form of a little black velvet box. 

You audibly gasp when he pulls the small box out of his pants pocket, holding it out in front of you and opening it to reveal a silver ring. In the center of the thin metal band sits a decently sized diamond, accented with small amethyst gems that sparkle under the flickering candle light and remind you of the eyes of the man himself.

"Before you get the wrong idea–this isn't a proposal or anything," Wanderer grumbles, avoiding eye contact as his cheeks flush.

"it's just…a placeholder. I'll give you the real one in a few years." 

The last part is mumbled in such a low tone you would have missed it had you not been seated right in front of him.

Slowly–just long enough to have Wanderer’s stomach churning with his anxiety and second-guessing his every decision–your brain catches up and a slow grin splits across your face.

"Thank you, Kuni... it's beautiful," you whisper, eyes watery.

The use of his original names seems to amplify the intimacy of the moment. Wordlessly, Wanderer stands from his kneeled position, plucking the small piece of jewelry from the box and taking your hand with an unexpected gentleness. 

He slides the cool metal on your finger—the fourth finger of your left hand. 

For a moment, you both admire it in awe. He can’t help the first thought that pops into his head, the thought that it suits you. 

Like was always meant to be there. 

Like how he was always meant to be here, with you.

"I love you," you murmur. 

When he turns to look at you, he finds you already staring up at him, all soft smiles and twinkling eyes, as if he had personally hung the moon in the sky. As if he was the most important person in your world. As if his worth far exceeds anything he was created for and anything he imagined for himself thereafter. 

Wanderer doesn't say anything but he firmly squeezes your hand and brushes his thumb against the new ring on your delicate finger.

A placeholder. 

#better late than never LOL #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin scenario #scaramoche imagine #scaramouche scenario #wanderer imagine #wanderer scenario #kyuuppi.event

[aerodaltonimperial]

(Junglecorpse, 1.4k ish. In my defense, and I know I say this a lot but it's actually true this time, I am very legitimately going through a lot right now, and I don't know if my therapist would approve of this method of self-soothing or no, BUT whatever, Junglecorpse is one of the few pairings that activates my "MUST HAVE FLUFF NOW" toggles when normally I avoid fluff like the plague. I wrote this snippet a few months back or so for Vamp via chat and expanded it today for Myself™️ so I'm posting it here so I can save it on the masterlist. You do not have to read this.)

“Do you think Tony’s gonna lose his mind and create a new pay-per-view every week?” Jack asks, while thumbing up through his Twitter feed somewhat absently. He’s only got his right hand, as Darby has stolen his left. Darby’s got one of his ink pens, the felt-tipped kind he uses to doodle sometimes, and the brush of the tip against the skin on the back of Jack’s hand is calming. Sometimes Jack ends up with skulls littering his knuckles, other times with swoops and flourishes; mostly, he just lets Darby do his thing. It’s familiar.

“Seems like a bad business model,” Darby replies. His head is bowed, chin turned down as he works. Last week, Jack went out to lunch with his sister with a stylized skateboard heading up against the bump in his wrist bone, and she’d laughed for about three minutes straight.

Jack snorts a little, still scrolling. Doom-scrolling, really, though he’ll never admit that to his therapist. “Yeah, people are gonna stop paying if all they ever see is Hanger and Swerve stapling each other’s chests every single month, over and over again.”

“You may be greatly underestimating the public interest in that.” Darby laughs.

“Oh.” Jack frowns at the back glow, squinting a little. “Shit, yeah, you’re right. Man. Should I start up a homoerotic feud with somebody with the sole goal of getting some really violent death matches?”

“Please don’t let anyone else staple your chest,” Darby says, a bit muffled. The brush pen curls along Jack’s skin.

“Anyone else? Whoa, buddy, stapling me was not on the to-do list for this week.”

Darby snorts. “I like you in one piece, thanks. And I’m not a big fan of watching you bleed all over the mats.”

“Oh, sure, but I have to watch you toss yourself spine first off the posts every Wednesday,” Jack says. He taps the screen again with his thumb, pulling down. Something something official AEW twitter, five clips from the last show, and Stokely buying another celebrity Cameo to woo Kris Statlander. Actually, that one’s pretty funny. He got Barack Obama to do it. Jack didn’t even know Obama had a Cameo.

The brush tip swirls, then taps a few times. “Aw. You gettin’ anxious over me?”

“Well, if you die, who’s going to keep my feet warm at night?”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell you: wear socks. Your feet are fucking freezing.”

Jack huffs out another laugh. The Obama cameo was hilarious. Stokely deserves managing her at this point. “I don’t need socks, I have your legs.”

“Dick,” Darby grumbles.

“But back to this pay-per-view thing. This is a lot of matches. Having even more on Sunday, every month, feels kind of overwhelming. Like, I need to have the roofing guy come look at my place? And I can’t schedule it because Tony keeps creating new shows.”

“Mm.” Another swoop of the brush, then some lines. Jack glides through an update from Prince Nana that reads truly bizarre, a reblog from Bowens that reads genuinely excited, and a post from Danhausen that’s mostly nonsense ending with ‘you’re cursed.’ “Maybe next week. Your shingles? Or the gutters? I don’t think I remember you talking about any other issues.”

“Just the shingles. After that last wind storm, I think a few came off, and now I’m worried the whole damn thing will come down around me one night.”

Darby huffs out a laugh, but the doodling ministrations on the back of Jack’s hand don’t pause. “I think you’d get a bit of a heads up before that happens.”

“Only if someone is physically there to yell ‘heads up’ at all times,” Jack jokes. Another tweet from the official AEW account, and then a reblog. Sammy posted. Ricky posted. Sammy tweeted at Ricky with a bunch of capslock, Ricky quote-retweeted with a gif of a dancing middle finger, and Jack skips all of that. Let them argue on main if they want to. Sammy’s just gonna try to fall on Ricky from the scaffolding again.

“I’ll do it.”

The drawing on the back of his hand stops. “Oh, yeah?” Jack smiles. “Are you volunteering to always…” He looks down at the doodles on his skin, and freezes.

Adorning his knuckles are a series of curves, vine-like, that curl up towards his ring finger where they create a solid horizontal line, and in the middle of his hand, somewhat shaky, given they were written upside down to be read from Jack’s direction, blocky letters spell WILL YOU MARRY ME.

Jack’s chest constricts. He can’t breathe. With his heart roaring against his ears, he whips his gaze up to stare at Darby, whose expression is maddeningly neutral. “Darby. What the fuck?”

“Okay, that’s… a response,” Darby says, with the tiniest of shrugs and a pinch to his lips. “Think it’s pretty clear.”

“Are you… are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Darby replies, mouth quirking up at the corners. “Yeah, I am.”

“You…” Jack’s tongue is ungainly, swollen. “Oh my god.”

“I’m not hearing an answer.”

“But… why would you…”

Darby drops his eyes, dragging his thumb over the topmost part of his impromptu design in a caress, and his smile never really diminishes. “Jack, what did you think this was? What did you think this was going to be? I don’t do things in halves, I told you that from the get-go. You know me. It’s you and me, and that’s what I want. Forever.”

“Are… are you sure?” Jack’s gonna choke on everything bubbling up from his chest.

Darby’s eyes slide back up. They reflect the lamplight, bright shiny starbursts. “Yeah, Jack, I’m really fucking sure. And if you don’t—”

“Yes.”

Darby pauses, tongue slipping out to press into the corner of his mouth. “Yes?”

“Yes.” Jack laughs, the sound bubbling up through his throat. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Holy shit.” Darby’s smile widens, impossibly stretched. “Holy shit. Really?”

Jack grabs for Darby’s face, clutching the sides of his head. He mashes their mouths together with way too much force, but he can’t stop it, because the rattling in his veins has started to sing. Then he pulls away. “You asked, you absolute loon, how did you not expect an answer? Yes, really. Really.”

And then he’s not really sure of much other than the fact that they’re both laughing, euphoric, and Jack doesn’t care about the roof anymore, or the idea of someone stapling his chest, because all that really pales in comparison to everything else, and he thinks ah, that’s exactly how it should be.

His brain starts to catch up with reality, sluggish. “Where are we gonna live? My place, or your place? This is opposite sides of the country, you know. Oh, wow. We’re gonna have to file taxes together.”

Darby laughs, features pulled incredulous. “What?”

“Should we hyphenate our last names?” Jack’s eyes track over Darby’s face: blue, blue, blue, his eyes are so blue. Should they have blue in their wedding? Should they have a wedding? “Should we hyphenate them in the ring? Wait, I have to go to the grocery store today, and I don’t want to wash this off my hand. Should I take a photo? Or wear a glove? Am I gonna look like Michael Jackson?”

“Jack,” Darby laughs again, high and bright. “Darling. Light of my life. You’re such a fucking idiot.”

“I’m seventeen steps ahead again, aren’t I.”

Darby grabs his face between his palms. “Yes. Yes, you are. Honestly, I don’t know where we’re gonna live. We’ll probably just keep both places. Yes, we’re gonna have to file taxes together. No, I don’t know if we’ll hyphenate our names; I really don’t give a shit. Yes, you can take a photo. No, you will never look like Michael Jackson.”

“You don’t have an opinion about our names?” Jack asks.

Darby hauls him closer, until their noses touch. He’s smiling, smiling, and Jack’s smiling, the expression too wide and aching on his face. “Jack, I don’t fucking care. I just want to be with you and your stupidly cold feet.”

“Does this proposal come with the condition that I have to buy some socks?”

“Don’t you even dare,” Darby replies, his thumb gliding along Jack’s cheek a little. “You’re gonna shove your feet between my legs in the middle of the night and jolt me awake like you always do, and I’m gonna fuckin’ love it, every damn time.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a sap,” Jack says.

“Get to used to that, ‘cause you’re gonna be legally stuck with me after this.”

“Awesome,” Jack breathes, and kisses him again.

#Junglecorpse #tag so you don't lose this shit #This is not worth reading lol #I just needed it here for me

[yandere-daze]

Waa congrats on 3k daze! i've been here since 1400 (or maybe even before that. I can't quite recall) and it's really heartwarming to see my favourite writer grow so much ♡ For the event, can i please ask for the tower, the hierophant & temperance from the tarot prompts for mika? :)

Whoa, it seems like you´ve been around for quite a long time then! A lot of time has passed since the 1.4k followers event so it´s kind of impressive to hear that someone has been reading my stuff for that long, thank you for sticking around!☺️ And your favorite writer? Omg you´re flattering me and it´s working😳

And of course I´m always happy to write for Mika <3 I guess you can consider this a late birthday gift? Since I haven´t actually written any of the other stuff I´ve been meaning to write about him yet silnfls

gn reader

tw yandere, obsession, delusion, violence, allusion to murder, possessiveness, stalking, taking pictures of the reader (mentioned), worshipping the reader, implied kidnapping as a throw-away line

The Tower - If this yandere saw their darling in danger, how would they respond/react? 

Okay so if you somehow got put into a dangerous situation, there´s no way Mika is going to be unaware of it because he´s always by your side, whether that´s him just tagging along no matter where you go and being generally clingy, or him stalking you from a safe distance away to “make sure you´re safe”.

And well, either way, he´s very glad that he made that decision to stay close to you ( and totally not for his own interests) because his beloved darling actually is in danger now, right in front of him!

Of course, Mika´s first reaction is one of shock and panic but that quickly turns into a blind rage after he has fully assessed the situation.

You´re right in front of him, calling out for help while someone else is endangering you.

And Mika just can´t have that. No one is allowed to touch his darling and he sees it as his duty to save and protect you.

So how does he deal with this tense and difficult situation? Violence.

Charges in screaming, probably yelling death threats and demanding for you be let go while he jumps at the attacker´s throat, fully intent on just killing them if you weren´t there to ground him a bit.

He doesn´t want you to see him as a violent person because that wouldn´t make for a good romantic partner so Mika hesitantly refrains from actually killing this person right in front of you and instead just beats them into a bloody pulp until he´s sure that they´re never ever going to try and put you in danger again.

Immediately afterward makes sure that you´re safe and checks up on any wounds you may have suffered while offering you words of comfort ( and candy from one of his pockets). Don´t worry, he´s going to take great care of you while you recover from that horrifying situation, he´s going to serve you in any way he can!

Of course only after searching out your attacker once more on his own and actually finishing the job now. They didn´t think they could get away with putting his darling in danger, did they?

The Hierophant - Could this yandere´s darling fool them easily? Or be manipulated by them? 

Oh, it´s almost too easy in fact! Mika is an obsessed and worshipping yandere that puts his darling onto the highest of pedestals, you´re basically a deity to him.

He´s absolutely hellbent on pleasing you in any way he can, so it´s very easy to get him to do things for you. Mika will bend over backward just to hear your praise.

On that note, yes, praising him will get you pretty far and it will keep him satisfied for quite some time before he starts demanding more attention and affection from you.

He sees himself absolutely beneath you and so anything you say goes. In his eyes, it´s all to show you what a good boyfriend he could be for you by doing things for you all the time.

There´s also the fact that Mika is a very delusional yandere so as long as what you say or do fits with his ideal fantasy of you being a loving couple destined to be with each other for all eternity, he´ll believe it.

He´ll believe almost anything you say with a smile on his face because you could never be wrong.

He also just sometimes.... outright ignores things that would go against the delusions he had built himself about your relationship. All the times you accidentally let a hateful comment toward him slip? Oh, he simply didn´t hear you correctly!

The only thing that might be your downfall is Mika´s rampant jealousy though. If he has even a hint of suspicion that you might like someone else more ( even if it´s completely unfounded), he´s going to be quite a bit warier when you try to manipulate him.

The same counts for when you´ve done it too many times or have, in his eyes, “betrayed his trust”. Like trying to escape from him by making him take off your shackles.

Temperance - What made this person yandere for their darling? 

Most of all, I feel the cause of Mika turning into a yandere is a combination of his childhood and his linked self-esteem issues.

As we know, Mika was given up by his birth parents into an orphanage and he had wondered for many years if they simply found him hideous. Always wondering about why they didn´t want him.

Mika is also very touch-starved and has said that he just craves love, it doesn´t matter how much it hurts him, how painful it is.

So when he meets you, someone that is so kind to him and willing to give him the attention and love he never really got? Well, he´s smitten and quickly starts to idolize you.

Mika is experiencing a feeling he has never felt for anyone else before and he soon grows obsessed with it, wanting to keep feeling all warm and fuzzy when you look his way or give him a compliment. Wanting to finally feel alive.

And while their relationship has grown and gotten a lot healthier in recent times, Shu´s past treatment of Mika also probably had an impact on him turning out this way.

He tries to accept that he´s no longer a doll, he´s a human with his own thoughts and feelings.

And yet. And yet he still wants to be controlled by you, he wants to have a purpose by serving you and making sure that you´ll always be happy ( with him at your side of course!)

Watching you every single day and taking photos of you when you aren´t looking just makes him even more enamored with you.

Mika is convinced you´re the most wonderful and divine person that has ever walked this earth, your beauty and benevolence second to none.

And he almost thinks he doesn´t deserve you.

But maybe just this once, he wants to be selfish too

#yandere enstars x reader #yandere ensemble stars #yandere mika kagehira x reader #mika kagehira x reader #ensemble stars x reader #enstars x reader #enstars mika #mika kagehira #ensemble stars #enstars #valkyrie #yandere ensemble stars x reader #yandere enstars #yandere mika #yandere mika kagehira #yandere #gn reader #cw yandere #cw obsession #cw stalking #cw delusion #cw murder #cw violence #yandere x reader #yandere tarot #male yandere

[so-long-soldier-writes]

dating yandere kai parker

yandere!kai parker x human!fem!reader | requested

tags: violence, language, fluff

word count: 1.4k

▸you thought you knew what you were getting into when you started dating kai

▸ after all, you were friends before, and you’d seen both his crazy and sweet sides

▸ but nothing prepared you for how crazy he could get when he thought he needed to step in and protect you

▸ the first time it happened was at the grill

thank god it wasn’t too busy at the time, because he would’ve caused a major scene. probably would’ve even gotten the two of you kicked out

kai had gone to the bar for two seconds to refill both of your drinks, and in that time, a guy you recognized from high school approaches you at the table

“y/n? right?” you nod, and he smiles wide. “thought you looked familiar! god, you look gorgeous,” he compliments, “how’ve you been?”

you give him a polite ‘thank you’, but try to shake him quickly

he doesn’t take the hint, though, and continues the conversation, talking now about the football scholarship he got to a major school, and is back in town for his little sister’s graduation

even if you weren’t worried about kai, you couldn’t find yourself to be interested

but then, for better or for worse, kai appears out of nowhere

“that’s my girl you’re talking to,” he comes up from behind the guy

at first, the guy is apologetic. “whoa, sorry, i didn’t know. just saying hi

“okay, well you’ve said it, so time to go”

“excuse me?”

“i said it’s time for you to go. so go on”

“kai, it’s okay,” you say, not liking how things are going, “it was nice seeing you again, h/n”

the guy turns to you, “you’re serious? you’re just gonna send me off? let him talk to you like that? who the fuck do you think you are?!” he turn to kai, spitting in sudden anger

any anger he has, kai tops tenfold. “her fucking boyfriend, and I told you to go”

“are you safe? like, seriously? does he hurt you?”

“i promise i’m okay, he’s just intense.”

“y/n, this is something more, there is something wrong with him”

“and you’re making it worse,” you scold, “so go”

“no fucking way!”

in a split second, kai grabs a steak knife from the table and holds it at the guy’s neck. he puts his hands up in surrender, but kai only pushes it deeper into his skin

“kai! take a breath, hey, you’re okay. let him go. we’re gonna leave, okay?”

his eyes are black. you can tell the words aren’t registering in his head.

“kai? give me the knife.” when he doesn’t, you step forward and grab the blade to pull it away from the guy’s neck. you grab the blade, not the handle, so that he sees its potential to hurt you, instead of only seeing you trying to control him

reluctantly, he lets you take it. the guy backs away instantly

“y/n, you are fucking crazy. i can’t believe you’d go out with a guy like him”

“if you don’t remember, saying stuff like that is how this situation escalated in the first place. h/n, go, seriously. kai, we’re gonna leave, too, okay?”

finally, h/n walks away. you take kai’s hand to lead him out of the grill, and only then does he snap out of it

“you better now?” you ask, a little concerned. sure, he’s protective, but never ‘public-display-of-aggression’ protective

“i didn’t like the way he was talking to you,” he says. “in what way, baby?” you furrow your eyebrows, wanting to pinpoint what exactly had upset him. “going on and on about stuff you obviously didn’t care about, and not leaving when i told him to go” “well, you were a little harsh, kai.” “so you did like talking to him?” “no, but your reaction wasn’t the best way to handle it” “is it so bad to want to protect you, y/n?” “of course not, and i love when you protect me, but there are ways to do it that don’t involve holding knives to the necks of people in a public restaurant, okay?” “fine,” he pauses, “i’ll threaten them with a fork next time”

after that, you drop it

kai walks you back to your apartment, hand-in-hand, swaying your arms as you walk

he only lets go once to pluck a daisy from its stem, then hands it to you with a big smile on his face

▸ while that was the first incident, it certainly isn’t the last

▸ he keeps up his promise to not hold knives to people’s necks in public, but he makes up for that in threats

▸ you have to watch him 24/7 like a toddler because you never know when someone’s glance at you will result in him stalking up to them

▸ a couple of times, you’ve sat him down to talk about it

“i don’t want to change you, and i don’t want to control you, but if there’s something i can do to help you feel safer, i’ll do it. even in a crazy town like mystic falls, you could get arrested or hurt, and i don’t want that to happen”

he eventually admits his fear of losing you outweighs any concern he has for himself. “you’re the only good thing i’ve ever had in my life, and if i were to lose you at all, i wouldn’t survive it.”

he also admits that sometimes he’s not even aware of what he says or does to people when his mind is set on protecting you. “i just need the threat to be gone. i don’t care what i have to do.”

you end the conversation with a kiss to his head, promising you love him no matter what. he cuddles into you after, soon falling asleep

▸ and you do love him no matter what. through the crazy moments and the calm. you know about his childhood, how he was raised. how his parents feared and mistreated him, and then locked him in solitude for two decades. it’s enough to drive anyone mad

▸ you remind him how much you love him on both his good and bad days

▸ you like to kiss the scars left on his body that have never faded from years of abuse. you adore how he melts into your arms when you do this, and when you tell him just how much you love him

▸ one of your hobbies that you do together is to drive to all the places he stayed in when he was in the prison world. you like to show him how alive the world is; how it’s not all gray and quiet. the way his face glows with excitement is unmatched.

though during one of your trips, there was an incident

the two of you were sitting in the sand, burying your hands in it and enjoying the feeling. the whole drive there, he was being his usual sweet self - holding your hand, kissing your knuckles, playing your favorite song and singing along

but then a stray volleyball came flying towards you and you ducked just in time for it to go over your head

the owner came running up to you for it, apologizing profusely, but kai wasn’t having any of it

“you almost hit my girlfriend with that. do you know how badly it could’ve hurt her? you could’ve bruised her perfect face”

“i am so sorry, genuinely”

“maybe i’ll fucking show you on yourself what i’d look like if you hurt her. pick a cheek, where do you want it?”

“kai! stop! it was an accident, plain and simple.” before the guy could pick a fight, which you could tell he was debating, you take your boyfriend’s hand and usher him away. “baby, nothing happened. i’m okay”

“it could’ve hurt you”

“but it didn’t, okay? everything’s alright. come on, let’s find some pretty flowers”

he swallows hard, but can’t say no to you when you look at him like that

the two of you spend the rest of the day looking for the prettiest flowers. each time he finds one worthy of you, he sticks it in your hair.

“i love you, y/n,” he says on the drive home

“i love you, too, kai”

▸ so yeah. dating him has its easier moments and its harder moments, but you don’t want to experience life with anyone else

#kai parker x reader #yandere kai parker #dating yandere kai parker #kai parker headcanons #first yandere attempt #requested

[madilovrs]

Movie Night

Robin Buckley x fem!Reader

summary: you and robin sit next to each other while watching a movie and you, close to sleep, realize just how gorgeous she is

1.4k words

warnings: none really i don’t think

tumblr messing up my spacing part 4

There was nothing you'd rather do on a Friday night than watch a movie with your best friends. Sure, there were plenty of parties and other friends inviting you out, and you'd love to attend, but there was nothing more fun to you than weekly movie nights. Over the past 3 years of monster hunting, everyone in the party (plus the honorary older members that have been acquired throughout the years) looked forward to hanging out without the threat of Hawkins tearing open and the Upside Down peaking through. You all had decided to make it a weekly tradition after Vecna attacked the teens of Hawkins. This week was Pretty in Pink picked by "Nancy" (Steve). Usually, you would have been excited to see Pretty in Pink, it was one of your favorites, but you were in the mood for something more exhilarating for the night.

After graduating from Hawkins High School this past June, you had tried to get a job in town, but the only one that accepted you was Melvalds. It was a fine job, paid a good amount, and kept you busy, but it was boring, and while you were grateful for the 5 months without any life-threatening situations, the attacks did break the "Nothing Happens in Hawkins" reputation the small town had just 4 years ago. Recently, though, when nothing was happening, it was nice to watch a thrilling movie to get your heart rate up. You weren't gonna argue with watching it, though. The group had a careful system of who got to pick the movie, implemented after the third or fourth movie night in which Dustin and Mike had an altercation over who should pick.

Since the last two people to pick the movies were you and Robin, you were banished to the floor, a fact that Steve was eager to remind you two of the minute you entered the house. So now here you all are, scattered across Steve's basement about 5 minutes into Pretty in Pink, and your eyelids were already dropping. You were on the cusp of slumber when Robin nudged your side.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked you worriedly.

You tried to give her a coherent response but you really didn't have the energy to want to. You groaned lightly, not opening your eyes.

"I can't understand when you mumble, Y/N," she said lightly, nudging you again.

"God, you sound like my mom... or Steve." You both chuckled lightly. Steve, who was sitting on the couch you were leaning on, nudged your back with his knee, making you laugh harder. You finally picked your head up and looked at Robin. She was smiling humorously at you but you could tell she was worried. Robin had always been terrible at hiding her emotions. You sighed and relaxed your neck, your head lulling forward.

"What's going on? I thought you loved this movie," she questioned while tilting her head.

"I do..." was all Robin heard before you fell back into mumbling. Robin knew what you meant though and hummed in response.

"You know, you don't have to come here every week, you work your ass off, it's okay if you wanna get a headstart on your sleep sometimes."

You smiled, picking your head up again and looking at Robin. "I know, I love spending time with you guys though, no matter how tired I am or how boring the movie is."

"Whoa, did you just call Pretty in Pink boring? You must be exhausted," She nudged you again. Robin's reassuring smile then turned into a real one. A bright one. A beautiful one.

Has she always been this beautiful?

"Were glad you're here, but you need your rest sometimes."

"Thank you for worrying, Robin, but-"

"Can you guys be quiet? We're trying to watch a movie," Dustin snapped from across the room, the popcorn in his hands flying wildly as he gestured his hands. You and Robin looked at each other and started giggling before settling back into the bottom of the couch, more comfortable than before.

You made it maybe 10 more minutes into the movie before relaxing onto Robin's shoulder and letting sleep overcome you. Robin sighed and rested her head on yours, feeling more comfortable than either of you had felt in a long time.

—————————

When you had woken up, the basement was empty with the exception of you and Robin in the same position as you had been so many hours before. Without moving your head, you glanced at the digital clock next to the television.

6:32 AM

You shut your eyes for a long time, dreading getting up to drive home, only to have to get ready for work. Robin must have noticed your sudden tensity, for she started to stir.

"Mmm, Y/N," she groaned and rolled her head from you to the now empty couch. You picked your head up slowly and stretched your sore neck. Still slightly groggy with sleep, you look over at Robin.

How is she even more beautiful when she's asleep?

You sighed deeply and tilted your head while admiring her beauty before standing and stretching your stiff body. Begrudgingly, you left her to make some breakfast in Steve's kitchen.

Out of the corner of your eye, while munching on a bland piece of toast, you saw Robin stumbling into the room. 

"Morning sunshine," you said blandly, smiling at the disheveled girl while starting the coffee maker. She grumbled in response, slumping against the counter. "Sleep well?"

"I always sleep well next to you," she smiled lightly, looking down at her feet, "but, maybe it would've been better if we had laid down, my neck hurts so bad."

You giggled at her before fully realizing what she had said. I always sleep better next to you. The thought of the possible romantic intention behind it made your stomach flutter. You looked down at your feet and smiled into our toast.

"Enjoying my coffee?"

You and Robin both looked up startled to find Steve standing in the doorway, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing his eye. Robin glanced at you with a playful smile before returning her gaze downward.

"Thanks for letting us stay the night, Steve," you said with a smile, putting down the coffee cup.

"Yeah, yeah, don't mention it," He waved his hand as he spoke, his eyes flicking between you and Robin. "Hey, uh, you guys need a ride home?"

"Oh no no, I drove last night, I'll be outta here in a second," you smiled, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly like a burden.

"I do, Steve," Robin looked up and smiled awkwardly.

You and Steve exchanged a glance. He raised his eyebrows once. You returned it with a confused look. He tilted his head annoyed and rolled his eyes.

"Uh, well since Y/N is already driving herself home, Im sure she can take you."

"Uh, oh yeah. Yeah! I-I can!" you stumbled over your words. Robin's face brightened exponentially.

"Oh great!" She smiled at you, almost longingly, if you had to put it into words. Steve's cough interrupted the moment.

"Okay, well, you two lovebirds have fun, I'm gonna go back to my comfy bed."

You and Robin exchanged a glance, both blushing furiously. Steve examined the scene and turned to go back up the stairs.

"Let's get going, shall we?" you said awkwardly. Robin nodded and followed you out of the house.

"Hey about what Steve said-" you began once you were both sitting in your car.

"Don't worry about it! Steve's a dick, he'll say anything if he thinks it'll make me awkward. Plus, were like the only girls who like girls that he knows so, of course, he's gonna do something-" Robin rushed out, but couldn't finish her thoughts because of your interruption.

"Why would what he said make you awkward?" You feigned innocence.

"Oh! Uh, I don't know what I was thinking, sor-" She wasn't able to finish her apology before you managed to place a swift kiss on her lips.

"Whoa mama," Robin chuckled nervously, "ew, why did I say that- you know what, I don't care." She kissed you again, all of the pent-up emotion she had been harboring for you finally escaping. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time," Robin said, leaning her forehead against yous. You both sat there in Steve's driveway, smiling and as happy as could be.

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #robin #robin stranger things #fluff #robin buckley stranger things #robin buckley x f!reader #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #stranger things #robin st #from wattpad lol

[marwhoa]

request: Musician Reader who has a concert in some soon time (maybe in a month or even could be less than a month)

And is stressed about it because not only the concert is coming near and it feels like every practice time, something would go wrong (maybe keep messing up part of the piece or feels like they dont have enough time?) Especially since the concert is the reader's and (insert turtle's) anniversary and didnt want to mess things up (also to make it more special reader composed a song for the anniv!) But at the end reader managed and played it in the concert as (insert turtle) watch them play the song! (Ofc hidden because ya know.. mutant whole situation lol)

🝮 “ mikey & the rose burns ”

rise!mikey x rockstar!g/n

author’s note: i totally wasn’t listening to “pov: you’re at a concert” YouTube playlists, just in case you were wondering? while i was editing the format to post this, the font size suddenly became large asf so i hope this posts normal 💀 (help me)

word count: 1.4k

As your hands fiddled with your guitar’s tuning heads, the nervous buzz coursing through your very soul could hardly be brushed aside. There was a performance quickly approaching, and the stakes were higher than ever. It was your first gig in a much bigger stage, which meant this was going to pull an even bigger audience than any shoddy underground basement bar could ever draw in.

Not only that, but this concert had sunk its teeth straight into you and your boyfriend’s anniversary date.

So, to say that you were a tad bit stressed by the heat set for this show? Well, now that would be a gross under-statement.

“ Damn it, try it again, Y/N, you missed your cue, scatterbrain! “

“ Ah, sorry Missy. “

You winced at your drummist’s outburst, tuning back into the present training session. There was only a few weeks left until this performance, and you needed to get it squared away. Missy huffed, ticking away on the drums as she cocked her head towards the band’s bassist, Jonah. You three were a ragtag crew, brought together by your producer after he felt you all would sound better together, rather than separate.

Fortunately for them, your vocals and lyricism skills were top notch, and being a lead guitarist who could sing? Well, that was just the common assumption, so it’s a good thing you nail both tasks, right?

Or well, you did. Until these mock sessions.

Each practice brought with it a set of problems, be it the strings of Jonah’s bass snapping last week, or Missy’s drumming being off key the first week, something had gone wrong. Now it was your turn, with poor timing and absentminded moments, it couldn’t have been a worse cocktail of trouble to give you cold feet.

“ Hey guys, I brought—whoa! You guys look horrible! Break time? “

The best part of it all was your adoring boyfriend dropping in on practice for whatever reasons he had in mind. Jonah and Missy were down-to-earth enough that Mikey’s… “ appearance ” was just another Tuesday to them, especially when he brought his amazing home cooked meals by.

“ Whoa Mikey, is that a pork risotto!? Haven’t you been spending months to perfect this? ”

Jonah collapsed at the table, inhaling the delicious aroma deeply as Missy sat just as roughly, practically salivating.

“ Jeez, Y/N, I’m so jealous that you get to experience culinary genius whenever you want! ”

“ What? No way, he’s my boyfriend, not my chef. I cook for myself a lot! “

Puffing out your chest, you feigned a playful air of “ insulted beyond belief!” and happily dug in to the bowl Mikey placed in front of you. He placed a kiss on your forehead before turning his gaze to everyone’s instruments.

“ Is practice running any smoother, guys? ”

He asked, jumping back a bit as he turned around to see everyone’s dulled spirits.

“ Ah man, Mikey, it’s… Well, it’s going, I guess. “

You sighed out, chomping a bite of the more-than-delightful array expanding out in your mouth. Flavors bounded across your tongue in an all-too-inspiring fashion. This happened to be just the light to ignite in your chest to get through this practice.

The night carried on with higher spirits, as it started to finally turn up. Mikey lingered, taking on the role of “ Personal Hype Man ”, which served to be just the buzz you all needed to wipe away some of the stress of the night.

Although, there was one song you all were keeping hidden from Mikey. It was going to be the “ bang! ” of the concert, a group-written song filled with everyone’s emotions. Consider it a thank-you letter, addressed to Mikey personally—with a teensy love letter tucked in, a solo verse written by your heart alone. Since the performance clouded any chance of a sweet anniversary date, your bandmates got the bright idea to make the concert the date! And they both had more than enough thanks to give to your boyfriend to begin with.

I mean, he boosted morale so much more than y’all’s shifty producer, from his warm meals to the refreshments all the way up to the hype man parts. If it weren’t for him, there may have been a longer road of fear and stress leading up to this gig.

So, you all grit your teeth and powered through mistakes, each trying to make your next practice better than the last. Each replay of the lyrics, strings, and the music left the band invigorated, hardly able to sleep at night, and much too excited for the upcoming night.

With all that preparation, the only thing buzzing through each of y’all as the room stirred with anticipation was straight, pure, and raw confidence.

“ Thank you for coming tonight—let me hear y’all give a great big yell for the Rose Burns! “

You leaned back from the mic, grinning wildly as your eyes cascaded across the sea of fans screaming out for y’all to play. One deep breath later and you all set off, playing through song to song. Under the stage lights, beads of sweat rolled down your head, but there wasn’t a care in the world as you all carried each lyric and note through with perfection. The fear chilling each practice was no where to be seen, and no mistakes sunk their teeth into any verse.

Heavy boots stomped to the beats, both on stage and from the fans before you. Lyrics slid from you and your mates’ lips like venom, bitter yet irresistible, and the music was enough to make even the shyest listener hear tonight jump and scream.

Cries from the crowd—some singing along, others cheering and dancing—pumped the band even further. As everything snowballed even bigger, your eyes finally landed upon the one you loved the most, up along the ceiling, perched along the building’s iron beams. Mikey could be seen bouncing along to each song as if he himself had written them. As a fan from one of your first solo gigs, you may have been insulted if he didn’t know every word. Well, to all but one of your songs. This one was a surprise.

“ This next song will be the last for the night, and is dedicated to a special someone in the crowd today. ”

You winked, watching the audience exchange glances as if looking for the special someone they’d never find. Pick in hand, you shook off the nervous jitters, exchanged glances with your mates, and yelled out a big “ let’s go ! “

Music filled the room, vibrating the floors, chairs, reverberating through the soles of the moving crowd. Not a single person was still nor quiet, as the room filled with the experience of loud, shared energy. This was an experience to go down in your memory, and you hoped that it would become a song that Mikey put on repeat.

Energy surged through the song, enlivening the room as Mikey regularly did. Notes bounding around the area’s walls with the very same fire he did everything with. Warmth filled the room, embodying those delicious moments at the table, and the crescendos of the music had everyone on their tippy-toes as it spilled into your solo.

Your voice wavered, standing strong as it was left to its self. Jonah and Missy’s instruments paled in the presence of your words, all spearing Mikey perfectly through the heart. Its message blanketed the audience, yet lovingly suffocated its receiver, straight until the last note. The words roared and filled the air, captivating with a tinge of longing that pushed you further.

The song’s end was one so impactful and subtle that the cheers and applause skipped for a second until roars bombarded the stage. Everyone poured their soul into tonight, and the energy of the crowd was evidence enough of its success.

“ Good night, New York! ”

All three of y’all beamed into your mics, laughing at some of the random remarks thrown from the audience. As the curtains drew, you caught sight of an orange blur that surely would meet you backstage.

First to the back, you were met by affectionate hands scooping you up into a tight embrace. Your back met the wall, and without warning your boyfriend’s lips met yours.

“ You were—that was, amazing! ”

Out of breath, Mikey’s hands cupped your cheeks roughly as he placed more and more kisses on your face and lips, up until you were both unraveling with laughter.

“ Hey, hey, lovebirds, leave that for your backstage rooms! ”

Missy and Jonah teased, dragging you both away with cacophonous laughter. Tonight had been a hit, and the future would only prove to bring even more packed nights.

#Mikey x reader #michaelangelo x reader #michelangelo x reader #rottmnt michelangelo x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #rottmnt michaelangelo x reader #rise michelangelo x reader #Rise michaelangelo x reader #rise mikey x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt michaelangelo x reader #rise tmnt mikey x reader #rise tmnt Michelangelo x reader #rise tmnt michaelangelo x reader

[intergalacticaquarium]

I Wanna Wear Your T-Shirt

Sooo...I made a post yesterday about how making the hellfire stuff horny made me feel kinda weird and then @kriffingstars gave me the PERFECT alternative so I wrote this

Summary: Eddie's girlfriend dons his Hellfire T in an attempt to turn him on but he can't stop thinking about the dudes. It works out in the end, though, when she thinks of something amazing instead.

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

content: no warnings just making out, just some fluff and some romance and Eddie getting to feel like a rock star. Also it's kind of a sequel to my princess Leia costume fic because it's in a very similar vein which wasn't intentional but I incorporated it anyway.

(fics masterpost)

1.4k

---------------------------------

Eddie would be out of the shower any minute and this time Y/N was sure that she had him. She played with her hair a little more in the mirror and looked at herself in the hellfire t-shirt without pants and grinned, sitting down on the bed nonchalantly and crossing her bare legs. 

When he came in with a towel wrapped around his waist and saw her his eyebrows shot up. 

"Damn you look…really hot." He said, a little dazed for a moment. She stood up and did a little spin and he grinned and did everything in his power to ignore the brief mental flash of Gareth burping his bardic attacks at Hellfire and get back to his super hot girlfriend. 

She leaned in and kissed him and he wrapped his arms around her. 

Fuck yeah dude- give it bigger horns that'll be cooler. He heard in Dustin's voice and he squeezed his eyes shut forcefully as she kissed him. She felt him stiffen and pulled back.

"You good?" She asked, concerned. He nodded too many times and leaned back in to kiss her, stretching her out on his bed. 

"I roll charisma to seduce the barmaid." "Jeff you can't just say that you have to actually seduce her-" 

He just tried to kiss her harder and will his Hellfire idiots out of his head. 

"Wait, why are you calling it the jizz cave?" "Because Mike wrote going spunking in the cave." "Spelunking! Obviously I wrote spelunking. I just have bad handwriting!"

The mental image of Mike Wheeler was a solid enough blast of cold water that he almost threw himself away from her. 

"Whoa, what is wrong?" She asked, concerned.

"It's the shirt. I can't stop thinking about the guys and its really killing the mood." He confessed hastily, and she barked out a laugh.

"Are you joking?" She asked, still thinking it was funny. 

"No! It's weird I don't want any part if hellfire to be sexy I can't think of anything less sexy than Hellfire it's just so many teenage dudes and that room stinks like shit and sometimes Gareth burps his spells and your brother is there- It would be like if I showed up in Dustin's thinking cap to seduce you."

"Oh God gross no way gross gross gross" she said whipping the shirt off her head and across the room.

"Shit, I'm sorry this is like the Leia costume all over again." He said, and she couldn't hold back a cackle remembering him blanching and saying Y/N, it's called the Slave Leia outfit its kinda hard to get turned on when all the can think about is what Jaba put her through. 

"No, it's fine honestly. Now I just wanna see if I can nail down your taste."

"I mean…I can try to think of something if you need a suggestion." He offered and she made a thoughtful face. 

"Nope, I have an idea. This one's gonna work." She said, and stood up to find another shirt. 

"You don't have to get dressed." He complained good naturedly, and laughed when she scrunched up her nose.

"I think I do because now I'm imagining Gareth burping spells and the mood is gonna need at least an hour to recover from that blow." She said, and he laughed too, pulling her into a hug.

----

The next Tuesday he and the band were setting up, and he saw Y/N come in wearing her denim patch jacket which was suspiciously zipped up to the top. She didn't come over to say hi like usual and they started to play to the unenthusiastic four drunks.

He kept his eyes on her as he played, picking her favorite next to his band mates annoyance. She was still sitting at the bar and she downed her drink and turned around with a grin. He felt his heart flutter in anticipation when he saw the look of a plan in her eyes as she walked over to the tiny stage and met his gaze so he could sing directly to her. 

He almost laughed in delight when she started to dance. Fully dance, headbanging and all with her hair flying every which way. She sang along to a few lyrics and casually unzipped her jacket while she danced and turned around grinning. 

When he saw her Eddie was a little star struck, seeing her six inches from the stage, dancing and singing along to an original song like she was their biggest fan in a packed stadium, and she was wearing his Corroded Coffin shirt that he hadn't been able to find this morning. 

She danced like that for the whole gig, alternating between losing herself and closing her eyes and making hard eye contact while they grinned at each other. 

For the first time since he began to play at the hideaway he saw one of the regulars start to Bob their head and shimmy their shoulders and pretty soon everybody in the bar was joining in on singing a classic with him.

He had never felt like more of a rock star. This time when they bowed off the stage everybody applauded, earning a few standing ovations. It was a bartender, four people on the verge of blacking out, and the love of his life and he felt like he was playing Madison Square garden. It could've just been her and he would've felt it. 

When he stepped off the stage she launched herself at him in a kiss that he returned with passion he wasn't sure he had ever actually felt so strongly before.

He couldn't even speak afterwards, just gaze at her goofilly until he ran into an amp while walking backwards. He gave her a one minute hand and helped the boys pack the equipment back in the van. 

When he came back he saw her sitting at the bar and running her finger around the rim of a vodka soda. He leaned on the bar next to her and eyed her up and down in his t-shirt and grinned. 

"Enjoy the show?" He asked too casually, and saw a smile play on her lips as she glanced at him. 

"As a matter of fact I did. I'm a pretty big fan." She said coyly.

"Yeah, I think I've seen you in the crowd before. Are you following us on tour?" He asked with a smile, and she looked at him with her big dark eyes under her thick lashes.

"Mmhmm. Can I let you in on a little secret though?" She asked, and leaned in conspiratorially. "Don't get me wrong- I love the band, but the reason I keep coming back is because I really want to sleep with the guitarist."

He grinned and tried to look thoughtful. "Ah, I see. Fans do say that he's the hot one."

"I know they do, that's why I need to get to him first." 

"But he's got this girlfriend, y'know? And like…the guitarist might be hot- he's got nothing on this girl. Total smoke show. Supermodel hot. And cool and funny and smart and brave-" He said, listing off compliments like it was nothing and watched her smile grow.

"That's too bad. I was really looking forward to going back to his place. I was kinda hoping that I'd look so good in this shirt he made himself that he'd want to take it off of me." 

"Yeah, too bad he's gonna miss out…guess you're just stuck with me then." He said, and her eyes narrowed and looked to her left in confusion. 

"Wait, I'm lost- are you not the guitarist in this scenario?"

"I was at first but then I couldn't figure out how to actually hit on you without making it seem like imaginary cheating." 

"Well, let's just consolidate it. I can be a girlfriend and a groupie." She said, the act gone and fully facing him. It was weird to be looked at with such devotion that it still caught him off guard sometimes. 

"Either way I feel like a damn rock star. I mean it- this show was…" he trailed off, unable to even explain how happy he felt in that moment, but the pride in her eyes told him she knew.

"Then let's get you home, rock star. I've always wanted to hook up with a guy at his concert." She stood up and put her arms around his neck.

"Lucky you, I think you'll get that chance…pretty much whenever you want." He offered, and she finally closed the gap to kiss him. He drew back and grinned at her, putting his arm around her and leading her out the door with an affectionate kiss on her head, and his finger hooked on the collar of her t-shirt.

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie tag

[jahayla-parker]

Bewitched Love : Peter Parker x Reader

Part 17

Bewitched Love Series Navigation

Desc. & Warnings: 1.4k wc, see navigation for description and warnings

Recap:

Y/n and Peter sat there, once again silently huddled together on a dark, wet roof. Only this time it wasn’t the roof of some random building besides Happy’s condo. Instead, it was the roof of their school, Midtown High. This meant that while the couple was embracing and comforting each other, their friends were able to track them down.

Ned and MJ found their friends right where they expected, the far corner if they school’s roof; together. They quickly excused themselves from the other Spider-Mans and made their way to their friends. MJ offered a teeny wave as Ned sighed sympathetically when y/n and Peter parted slightly to see them.

The four kids embraced each other tightly. Their huddle was full of tears and whispered supportive words.

After a moment, MJ pulled back. She nudged Ned and silently signaled for him to also step back. “Peter, there's...” she mumbled. MJ faced y/n as she continued, “there's some people here... who...”.

Peter squinted at his friends in confusion. However, he stood up, helping y/n to her feet as well. Whoever MJ was trying to say were here, Peter was going to be ready. He needed to be ready this time.

Before Peter had the chance to ask who was waiting for them on the ground below them, he saw movement in his periphery. His head snapped in the direction of the movement, his body tensing immediately.

Y/n watched Peter stare down the two strangers as they jumped down from the tower beside her on the roof. She took a step forward when she noticed Peter had tensed significantly.

“Hey. Wait, wait, whoa,” Peter exclaimed as the strangers nearer him and his friends. He moved to block y/n and kept Ned and MJ in his peripheral vision as he scrutinized the men. Peter of course noticed that one of them was in what appeared to be a different iteration of a Spider-Man suit. However, he was confused as to why the other guy looked like a youth pastor or something.

The older man, the one dressed as a youth pastor, held his hand up in surrender. “Sorry... about May,” he mumbled.

The younger, Spider-Man suit wearing stranger bowed his head. “Yeah. Sorry,” he whispered. He offered Peter a sympathetic look as he added, “I got some understanding of...”

But Peter shook his head. “No, please don't tell me that you know what I'm going through,” he requested. While Peter suspected that perhaps something similar had happened in the other Spider-Man’s universe, he didn’t want to hear it. It wouldn’t change the pain and heartbreak Peter was experiencing right now.

Peter reached towards the magic box. “She's gone... and it's all my fault. She died for nothing. So I'm gonna do what I should've done in the first place,” he declared. If he was honest with himself, it didn’t feel completely right; but it’s what he felt was needed.

Y/n looked at MJ, only to find her staring at her already. She hesitantly stepped away from Peter and towards her friend. Y/n remained facing Peter’s back, but her ear and attention was turned to MJ. She listened silently as MJ explained that the strangers were both Spider-Man in their respective universes and were here to help.

“Please, don't. You don't belong here. Either of you, so I'm sending you home,” Peter said when the older man tried to stop him.

Peter’s voice pulled y/n’s attention away from MJ. She quietly made her way back to his side before grabbing his hand and squeezing it. Y/n stared at him from the side. She knew what they should do, but she couldn’t blame his reluctance. Y/n too was reluctant to keep fighting after all that had happened tonight. It was certainly understandable that Peter would be even more apprehensive than her.

Peter gave y/n a brief sorrowful look before turning his attention back to the men. “Those other guys are from your worlds, right?” He asked, watching as they nodded in response. “So you deal with it. If they die, if you kill them... That's on you. It's not my problem,” Peter warned. He clenched his jaw. “I don't care anymore. I'm done. I'm really sorry that I dragged you into this. But you have to go home now. Good luck,” Peter expressed.

Peter once again reached for the spell box, but y/n tugged on his other hand. As he turned to face her, he saw she also was using her energy to float the spell box in the air, out of his reach. Peter tried not to glare at her action as he faced her exasperatedly. He knew she wasn’t trying to upset him, but he just wanted this to be over. Not even just for himself, but for her too.

However, as Peter’s eyes met y/n’s, he felt her compassion and understanding. Yet, he also saw her wordless plea to hear the men out. When y/n nodded softly to the men, Peter sighed lightly and nodded.

As Peter prepared to hear whatever the strangers from the other universes had to say, he squeezed y/n’s hand. Upon feeling her squeeze back, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. He nodded at the men, signaling for them to pitch to him their arguments.

“My Uncle Ben was killed. It was my fault,” the youth pastor looking man confessed.

Peter deflated slightly as he pieced together the confirmation that this man was another Spider-Man as well. And not just that. He was another Spider-Man who was at fault when it came to the death of his loved one.

The younger of the two strangers lifted his saddened gaze from the ground. “I lost... I lost Gwen. My, uh... She was my y/n,” he explained. “I couldn't save her. I'm never gonna be able to forgive myself for that. But I carried on. Tried to, uh... tried to keep going, tried to keep being the... that friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, because I know that's what she would have wanted. But... at some point, I just... I stopped pulling my punches. I got rageful. I got bitter. I just don't want you, to end up like... like me.”

Peter swallowed thickly. His y/n? Peter doubted there was anyone who even compared. But, that didn’t stop his worry over something happening to her from increasing upon hearing the other Spider-Man’s story. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, be the reason something happened to y/n. That’s why he needed to do this, to send everyone back; why didn’t they get that? Sure he heard what the younger stranger said about becoming rage-full, but surely that was just a one off event right?

It seemed the older Spider-Man noticed Peter’s doubt and hesitation. “The night... Ben died, I hunted down the man who I thought did it.,” he recalled aloud. “I wanted him dead. I got what I wanted,” he admitted. “It didn't make it better. It took me a long time to... learn to get through that darkness,” he explained, hoping Peter understood what road stood before him if he did this.

Peter’s free hand formed a first at his side. He let go of y/n’s hand and intentionally avoided her gaze. He didn’t want her to hear what he was about to confess. But maybe it would serve to show the others why he shouldn’t be trusted to try and help fix Osborn again.

“I wanna kill him. I wanna tear him apart,” Peter seethed. “I can still hear her voice in my head...” he whimpered. Peter’s form shook briefly until y/n rubbed his back supportively. As Peter stared into her eyes that were somehow still kind and warm despite his confession, he composed himself again. “Even after she was hurt, she said to me that we did the right thing. She told me that with great power...” he mumbled, trying to repeat what were essentially Aunt May’s dying words.

The older Spider-Man’s eyes widened with shock. “...comes great responsibility,” he finished for Peter.

Peter turned his confused gaze to the older man as he respectively turned to the younger man. Peter shifted his gaze to the younger stranger as well, watching as he nodded with tears on his eyes. “Wait, what? How do you know that?” he questioned.

“Uncle Ben said it,” the older Spider-Man answered tenderly.

“The day he died,” the younger man agreed. He hesitantly added, “maybe she didn't die for nothing, Peter”.

Peter took a shaky breath. His mind was going a thousand miles a minute. Peter needed to focus. So, he turned his body towards y/n, his eyes communicating his thoughts for him.

Y/n lowered the spell box back down towards the multiversal men as she simultaneously dropped Peter’s hand. She then moved her hands to his face, stroking his dirty cheeks delicately. While she didn’t say a word, her eyes returned Peter’s silent communication.

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[aurevell]

The Wolf and Flame

Sterek | 1.4k | G AU-gust Prompt 2: Artist’s Muse Summary: The local blacksmith doesn't say much, but he finds a way to get a message to Stiles anyway.

-

They say the shops by the palace walls were hand-selected by the royals themselves, probably to keep the kingdom’s finest merchants within easy reach of the crown. 

But that’s not why Stiles visits.

Well, okay, the goods are part of it. Outside of seasonal market days, you can’t find quality furniture or fabrics within a day’s walk of the castle. And good luck getting your hands on potions that won’t backfire, or talismans that aren’t glittering counterfeits.

Stiles comes for the magic supplies, sure, but he’s most interested in a particular stall tucked away in the north corner: The Wolf and Flame.

And in its shopkeeper.

He steps inside to find the usual crowds present, but it’s not just the body heat and the warm spring day that makes the air feel stifling. 

Like most blacksmith stalls, this one doubles as a workshop. The open-air storefront is laid out with display tables, but even with the light breeze from outside, the heat from the forge is noticeable, its glow spilling out across the iron wares. Customers fan themselves as they walk from table to table, and Derek’s young apprentice is overwarm and yawning at the till.

There’s a distinct lack of hammering from the back of the shop, though. Stiles looks over to find Derek watching him.

“Morning!” Stiles calls, caught off-guard.

Derek offers a small smile and turns quickly back to his work. Or at least, he tries: a pretty dark-haired woman lingers within a safe distance of the forge, waving for his attention. Derek complies with a reluctance he’s getting much better at hiding.

The reticent werewolf’s explosion in popularity is probably as funny to Stiles as it is annoying to Derek himself. Besides producing half of the weapons in the king’s armory, there are sets of horseshoes, household nails and hinges, farming tools, and a thousand other items scattered across the tables. Everyone in town—and probably everyone in the outlying region as well—has to visit The Wolf and Flame if they want premium craftsmanship. 

Which is great for business, but Stiles is pretty sure Derek wishes everyone would leave their orders at the till and leave him alone.

As he idly rifles through a set of daggers, Stiles hears the werewolf mutter some excuse to the woman and step away to tend the forge. Near the heart of the fire, the sweltering air is far too hot for most humans, and the customer must back away. The heat doesn’t seem to bother Derek, though, nor do the bright coals ever seem to sting his eyes. 

As always, Stiles has a hard time dragging his gaze from Derek as he works. It’s some sort of decorative piece today, intricate but compact, and the muscles in the wolf’s arms ripple as he pumps the bellows. His tunic clings to his skin, sweat glistening at his throat.

Despite the heat, Stiles steps a bit closer to see what he’s working on. Held fast in Derek’s clamps is a curling twist of metal in a vine-like design, burning white as a star. Some kind of intricate latch or frame, if Stiles had to guess, the kind that decorate the doors of merchants and nobles far richer than he is.

Though he meant to poke fun at Derek—which is what he always does, poke at things that catch his attention, even things that seem too distracted or uninterested to appreciate his jokes—the only thing he manages to get out is, “Whoa, that’s beautiful.”

He leans against the side of the table, half for a closer look and half to make his attention seem more casual and less adoring, but in doing so he nearly knocks over one of the daggers. It’s a close call, but he manages to catch it by the handle before it clatters onto the floor. Once he sets it back in place, he glances up to find the wolf watching him in amusement.

“What?” Stiles replies slyly. “You know I can’t control myself around your work.”

Derek just snorts. In the months Stiles has known him, the wolf has gotten better at, if not chatter, at least responding with a healthy dose of his own deadpan humor. But today, he again turns back to his work, his face flushed.

Some days, when business is slow, Derek will break his customary silence to chat with Stiles. Despite his reticence, he can often be coaxed into talking about his work, which he seems to genuinely love—how to wield a hammer, or how to read the temperature of a fire. How metals tell you when they’re ready to be worked, or how he treats and cares for his old bellows.

It looks like this isn’t going to be one of those days. Stiles can take some hints. And since he’s not just here for window shopping, he wanders off to find what he came for.

He pretty much knows the shop by heart now. Along the far wall, the shelves hold a mix of household goods and magical items, including the candle holders Stiles needs to stock up on for his next ritual. 

But hung on hooks beneath the shelf are new wares: thin filaments of iron in the familiar shape of a circle, with detailed lines and curls within. 

“Huh. These are new,” Stiles mutters to himself.

“They’re runes,” a voice murmurs, and Stiles jumps, whirling around to find Derek somehow standing right behind him.

He’s close enough that Stiles can smell him, coal and sweat and quenching steel. Close enough that the light from outside catches on the hazel flecks in his eyes. Stiles thinks he should be forgiven for blurting, “What?”

“Those ritual runes you’ve been talking about,” Derek replies, eyebrows drawing together. When Stiles just stares dumbly, he shifts in place and grumbles, “Because iron is best for grounding the ritual.”

“Yeah, I mean—I know that. But how do you know that?”

“Because you said so.” Again, Stiles gapes, and Derek grunts, “It was a long time ago.”

“Oh. Uh, sorry. I babble so much even I forgot what I’ve said…” 

Stiles turns back to the rune circles, gingerly taking one off its hook to tilt it this way and that. It’s practical, sure, but it’s also a beautiful piece of artwork, its weight balanced and every line impeccably smooth, without a single seam to show where the metal was joined. As perfect as if it burst from the flames in this exact shape. 

“How did you even know what they looked like? I don’t think I would’ve forgotten giving you that much detail.”

“When you forgot your notebook here last week,” Derek mutters. His arms are folded, hands tucked into his armpits. Possibly, away from his work at the forge, he doesn’t actually know what to do with his hands. “I went through and copied some of the runes you were talking about.”

“You went through my notes?” Stiles asks, trying frantically to remember whether there’s anything embarrassing written in it. Other than his atrocious handwriting and the occasional drawings of dicks in the margins, there’s not much he can think of. “That’s basically a crime in some circles,” he jokes weakly. “You could sell all of my best spells.”

Even if Stiles thought for a second that Derek had ill intentions, the look on his face—one shade shy of mortified—would have banished that notion. “I just thought it would be better if you started out with iron in the shape you need. Instead of having to scatter filings onto the ground.”

Stiles nods, idly running his fingers over the runic circle. 

And look, this is a very marketable item. It’s not like Stiles is the only magic-user in town who can benefit from a ritual shortcut every now and then. If Derek makes the right runes, even customers who aren’t skilled with magic can grab a protection rune or two for more luck than a horseshoe on the door.

But with the odd way Derek’s very carefully not looking at him, this feels somehow like it’s just for Stiles. And that’s something Stiles is going to try hard not to read too far into, because even shopkeepers have their favorite customers, but…

“Thanks,” Stiles says slowly. “This is—it’s amazing. I can’t believe you made this.”

The for me goes unspoken, but he’s pretty sure the softness of his voice carries the meaning across.

Derek’s face is a little pink, even more than it usually looks around the heat of the forge. He mutters something under his breath and then, to Stiles’s surprise, immediately turns and flees.

Over at the forge, he begins to hammer deliberately at his work, as if to block Stiles from any chance of further conversation.

Stiles can take a hint. This one, he thinks, is the kind he doesn’t mind. 

He pays Derek’s apprentice, who glances between him and Derek in curiosity. When he heads back onto the market street, he’s fighting back a smile.

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#sterek #sterek fic #au-gust 2022 #did i use this prompt as an excuse to shove blacksmith!derek into a story #yes yes i did #but i've been wanting to write him for so long #i just think he's cute ok #mine #long post #tumblr fic