#Dogs Books And Coffee T-Shirt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

msgexymunson · 8 months

Text

Prettiest Bitch

Description: you and Eddie have a special way of showing each other you care.

A/N: this is a real life fucking story of me and my partner lmao. Please like and reblog if you enjoy it sweetheart.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, established relationship, mean Eddie and mean reader but it's just fun and games, reader is AFAB, female oral receiving.

Masterlist

900 words

Laying on Eddie's sofa, you bask in the warm glow of being near him. Your legs were draped over his as you rifled through a book that you were barely paying attention to. Eddie's hand is up your loose pyjama pants, tracing soft circles on the bare skin of your calf.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah sweets?"

"You've always got to be touching me, don't you."

"Suppose so."

You smirk, pulling his hand out of your pants. He whines like a child that just got his favourite toy confiscated.

"Why?"

"Dunno, I just want your skin."

Laughing loudly, you scoot closer on your knees, just shy of climbing onto his lap.

"You want my skin? That sounds so fuckin' weird."

Eddie drops his voice into an odd gravelly gasp, the one he reserves for goblin NPCs when he's DM.

"Eddie wants it! Give Eddie your skin!"

Before you can react he's pulling you onto his lap, hands wandering up your top and stroking hard at the exposed flesh.

"You dumbass that tickles! Stop!"

"Never!" He doubles down his efforts, lifting your t-shirt and blowing a wet raspberry on your stomach. You try to lean away but he has you trapped.

Finally wiggling from his grasp in a fit of breathless giggles, your rump bumps heavily on the floor.

"You're an idiot, Munson."

"Yeah? Well you like me, so who's the idiot now?"

"Still you!" You flip him the bird and he pokes his tongue out at you at the same time.

Now eye level with the coffee table, a leaflet catches your eye.

"What's this? Hawkins County fair?"

Leafing through it, you hear Eddie's chuckle.

"Yeah, just a bunch of farmers showing off the size of their pumpkins and shit, it's so stupid."

"But look!" You wave the ad in his face as he rolls his eyes.

"Dog show Eddie! Dogs! Look, they've got categories and everything."

He goes to steal it out of your hands but you hold firmly on, reeling off some of the different categories.

"Senior dogs… there's one for puppies that's cute… oh haha look, prettiest bitch! I should enter." You nod at him and his gaze softens, sinking down to join you on the floor.

"Oh sweetheart" his thumb brushes your cheek as you melt under his gaze.

"You're not pretty."

Gasping, your eyes snap back open to see Eddie rolling on the floor gasping with fits of laughter.

"Edward James Munson! Gonna make you regret that!"

You straddle him, fingers digging bruises into his sides, trying desperately to find ticklish spots.

"It was a joke! Come on sweets, you know I'm not ticklish there."

Grinning devilishly, you straddle him backwards, clinging onto his legs like a koala.

"Nope, but you are here!"

Your fingers tickle at his socked feet as he writhes beneath you.

"Fuck, no fair! Stop!"

"Never!" Your relentless onslaught continues.

"I will kick you in the head!"

"Say I'm pretty!"

"Fine! You're pretty, stop, stop!"

You finally relinquish your hold and clamber off him still giggling triumphantly.

"Am I forgiven?"

"Nope. That was really mean Edward." You huff dramatically, folding your arms over your chest.

"Kiss it better?"

You both use that phrase. It started off with kissing your knee when you fell, then you used it to comfort him once when some jocks had been particularly mean to him, then it just melded into your day to day life.

"OK."

His smile is wicked as he pushes you to your back, fingers hooking into your pyjama pants.

"The fuck are you doing?" Gazing down at him, he smiles sinfully as he pulls your pants down in one smooth motion.

"Didn't say where, sweets."

His tongue runs the full length of your pussy and runs around your clit in a smooth circle.

"Fuck, Eddie!" Hands make their way into his unruly curls as he continues his apology, suckling at your clit.

Thick fingers probe your entrance, gliding in to curl in that spot just like you like it.

"Sweetheart, you're the prettiest girl in this trailer."

Not giving in that easily, you pull his hair.

"I'm the only girl in this trailer!"

He laughs and sucks your clit again hard, making your back arch off the floor.

"OK," he practically breathes into your cunt, "the prettiest girl in Hawkins?"

"Better."

"Fine, the prettiest girl in the fucking world."

"OK, oh shit, oh you're forgiven!" Moans replace words as he fucks you hard with his fingers, bringing you closer and closer to release.

"Don't stop, don't stop, I'm gonna come, Eddie!"

He presses the flat of his tongue against your clit hard as you ride his face into a searing wash of ecstasy.

Releasing in a broken scream, you melt into a puddle. Moments later, a very smug Eddie hovers over you.

"You are the prettiest bitch" He says, pressing a soft kiss to your nose.

Too fucked out to argue, you pull him close and hold him. You'll get him back later.

@munson-blurbs @roanniom @eddiesprincess86

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie fanfic #eddie fan fic

1K notes · View notes

ereardon · 3 months

Text

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter One

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child?

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, alcohol

Chapter summary: Y/N meets Bob's squadron, and encounters someone she thought she'd never see again; the Daggers celebrate Jake's birthday where he and Y/N have their first conversation after the one night stand

Masterlist here

You were late. Bob was going to kill you. Your brother was a stickler when it came to being on time. It came as no surprise to anyone in your family that he had gone into the military.

You rushed through the door, purse strap getting caught on the handle and you tugged it free, chest rising as you spun around, searching for Bob. He stood in the corner of the coffee shop, pristine in a khaki uniform, eyes wide behind his wire glasses.

“Hi Ducky,” he said as you tossed yourself into his arms, breathing in his familiar scent. He felt like home, even though it had been years since you and Bob had lived under the same roof. You had been barely a teen when Bob left for the Naval Academy, and his stints on land were far and few between after. His assignment to Top Gun was the first time he had settled somewhere on a more permanent basis. It’s why you decided to move to San Diego after college. All of your friends had scattered around the country – grad school in New York, policy analysts in Washington, even one friend had taken an internship with an art dealer in Miami. But you had packed up and left Tennessee with one goal. Be closer to your brother.

“Bobby,” you grinned, stepping back to admire him. Every time you saw him it was months apart and so much had changed, but also so little. He was the same Bob who had thrown you over his shoulder to win the family flag football game on Thanksgiving. The same Bob who had carried your book bag for you when you were in elementary school and he was a middle schooler and went a mile out of his way every morning to make sure you got to your homeroom class safe and sound. The Bob who always picked up, day or night, when you called. The Bob who listened to you weep about your college boyfriend who broke your heart. The Bob who took care of you when you were seven and had the flu and your mom was working a double shift at the hospital and couldn’t stay home with you.

“Ducky,” he said, dropping your hands. The familiar nickname on his tongue brought forward a flood of memories: spring weekends flying kites in the nearby park, sitting on the back of a tandem bike with Bob on a trip to Florida to visit your grandparents, the fort the two of you made the one time it snowed two feet in Tennessee in under a day in March. “This is my squad. Guys, meet my sister, Y/N.”

You tore your gaze from Bob, looking over at the table he was gesturing to, a smile plastered on your face. A beautiful brunette with pearly white teeth and a tight bun was on the far left. That was Phoenix. You had received a handful of letters from Bob talking about her. Next to Phoenix was a handsome, bulky man with a mustache in a plain blue t-shirt. Wow, he was gorgeous.

Your eyes shifted over one more, breath halting in your throat as your gaze slowly crept up. First you spotted the dog tags. Eerily familiar, but then again, a lot of military guys wore dog tags, right?

Then the chin. Ridiculously cut jaw, slight bifurcated butt chin that you had found weirdly adorable two nights before. Plump, pink lips, puckered up in a grin. You felt your heart sink. There was only one thing left. You raised your eyes to his. Clear, seafoam green. An ocean in two small orbs. He smiled as you screamed internally.

Bob’s voice drew you out of your coma. “That’s Bradley.” The mustache man waved a hand. “And Jake Seresin. Hangman.”

Jake. Your stomach did a somersault.

Last time you had seen him, you had been teetering on the edge of drunk, standing outside of the bar with one hand on the railing, the salty ocean wind licking at the sweat on your collarbone, flicking the ends of your hair up against your chin.

The next moment, his tongue was on your throat, in your mouth, fingers in your hair, pressing your body against the railing of the deck as you whimpered into his lips.

You had crept out of bed before he woke up. Just a gorgeous, tan, muscular back sticking out beneath crisp white sheets as you tugged on your short dress and called an Uber. You had expected to never see him again.

And here he was, smirking at you as your brother’s gaze narrowed.

You had fucked up. Correction. You had fucked Jake Seresin. And that was a major fuck up.

***

Bob had never been the type to have a huge friend group, or any close friends really. So the first time he called from Top Gun, giddy with excitement, you had been elated for him. Your brother deserved a tightly knit friend group.

Before you had moved to San Diego, Bob had filled you in on the group’s antics. Their flights, their wild nights out, the dynamics. But he had centered mostly on Phoenix and Rooster.

Jake had conveniently been left out of the majority of the conversation.

“Well?” Bob asked as the two of you headed back to his house in your rental car. “What do you think of the group?”

“They’re nice,” you said.

“That’s it? Nice?”

You sighed. “I’m really happy for you, Bobby. You have a good group of friends. I know that’s what you always wanted.”

Bob leaned back against the seat. You were the one person that Bob confided in. He was an open book and you could read him with one glance. Looking over, you spotted his furrowed brow, the tense way he was squeezing his knuckles together.

“Are you OK?” you asked, turning your eyes back toward the road, slowing down to take a right turn.

“Tell me you didn’t move here for me.”

“Then I’d be lying.”

“Y/N,” Bob said. His voice had taken on Big Brother™ mode. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t you want me around?” you whispered.

“Of course I do,” Bob replied. “I just don’t want you to waste your life following me.”

“Living in California a waste?” you asked. “No way.”

“What’s the plan, Duck?”

“Not everyone was born potty trained and with a plan, Bobby.”

“You’re twenty-three,” he countered. “It’s time to be an adult and figure out what you’re doing with your life.”

“You sound like mom.”

“And we both know she’s never wrong.”

You sighed. “Just because you got your life together at seven doesn’t mean I have to.”

“Duck—”

You cut him off. “Bobby, please. It’s been a week. Give me a little time and I promise, I'll figure out what I’m doing. Just be my brother, OK, instead of acting like my dad.”

That silenced him. Bob had taken your father’s disappearance harder than you had. He put on a brave face. He stepped up. He became the man of the house. But that meant that he had taken it upon himself to be your brother and your dad. So even at twenty three he still saw you as a child.

The two of you drove the rest of the way back to Bob’s house in silence. Inside, you were just about to close the door to your guest bedroom when Bob’s voice floated down the hall.

“By the way,” he said, “I told the squad we’d go out for drinks with them tonight. It’s Jake’s birthday.”

You grimaced. “Sounds good.”

“Leave at nine?”

“Sure.” You closed the door, plopping down on the bed face first. You had moved to San Diego to figure your life out. And of course the first thing you had done was have a one night stand with one of Bob’s teammates. If he had been anyone else in the world you would have been able to avoid him.

What do you get someone for their birthday when you hoped you’d never see them again?

***

“Floyd!”

You turned at the same time as Bob. Bradley grinned. “Oh this is going to get confusing.”

“Here.” Natasha pointed to the bar stool next to her. “Have a seat. Boys will get you a drink. Bradshaw?”

Bradley tipped his head. “On it, ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes as you settled into the seat, crossing your legs beneath the short skirt. “So, Y/N. Bob’s told me all about his little sister. But he left out that you were coming to live here.”

“I’m not much of a planner.”

Phoenix laughed. “The anti-Bob. I like you already.”

“He’s told me a lot about you,” you replied. “And Bradley.”

“And nothing about Jake I’m guessing?” You nodded and Phoenix took a sip of her beer. “Trust me when I say, you don’t want to even go there.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

Phoenix craned her neck around, making sure the two of you were out of earshot before nodding. “Just steer clear of him. That’s my suggestion. Hangman is fun for a night. But things get messy quick. And he and Bob have a little bit of a history.”

You frowned. “What kind of history?”

Just as Phoenix opened her mouth to respond, Bradley pressed a beer into your open hand. “Ducky.”

You grimaced. “Bobby, you didn’t!”

He shrugged. “Sorry.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m so going to eat your last Pop-Tart tomorrow just to get you back for that.”

“Fill us in, will you?” Phoenix asked.

“When she was four, Y/N became obsessed with those little yellow rubber ducks that you put in your bath.” You groaned as your brother recounted the full story. How you had thrown a fit when your mother had tried to take you out of the bath and the only thing to calm you had been to fill your bed with the rubber ducks. And how the next morning that continued, one rubber duck gripped firmly in your chubby hand as you ate breakfast, went to the park, tagged along to the grocery store, went to daycare. This continued for weeks.

You didn’t want to admit to the team that you still had a rubber duck stuffed inside your suitcase back at Bob’s house. It was a safety net of sorts.

“Sorry, Duck,” Bob said, squeezing your shoulders and placing a small peck on the top of your head.

You looked up at him. His cheeks were flushed, he had a massive grin on his face. He was happy. All you had wanted in as long as you could remember was for Bob to be happy. He took your happiness more seriously than his own. It was time you returned the favor.

“Am I interrupting?” All eyes turned to Jake. He had on a tight black t-shirt and a pair of jeans with cowboy boots peeking out the bottom. He shot a grin your way and you did your best to avoid his eye contact.

“Happy birthday, Hangman.” There was a chill in Bob’s voice, or perhaps you were reading into it because of what Phoenix had said earlier.

Jake nodded. “Thanks, man. Anyone up for a game of darts?”

Bob dropped his hand from your shoulder, following Phoenix and Jake back toward the darts board on one end of the bar. You sat back in your seat, tipping the beer down your throat, watching as they played. There was an easy banter with all of them.

You finished your beer, the darts game still ongoing. Quietly, you slipped around the edge of the room, out the door that led to the back deck.

It was quiet outside, just the sound of the waves crashing against the hard sand and the soft hum of the music as it seeped through under the door and from behind the old windows. You laid your fingertips on the wooden railing, tipping your head back toward the moon that was slung low in the sky, feeling the cool breeze dry the sweat that had started to form on the base of your neck.

“Mind if I join?”

You turned. Jake stepped out onto the deck, a beer in one hand. He approached the railing, putting the green bottle down and smirking over at you. This time you were far less drunk. You shrugged. “It’s your birthday. Who am I to say what you can or can’t do?”

He frowned. “Don’t be like that.”

“Just because you’ve seen me naked doesn’t mean you know me.”

He looked bristled. “Y/N. I had no idea you were Bob’s sister when we met the other night. If I had known, I—”

“Wouldn’t have fucked me?”

He grimaced. “You’re the one that left without saying anything.”

You folded your arms over your chest. “It’s not like you were falling over yourself to drive me home. It was better that way and we both know it.” You allowed yourself to look up. God, he was stunning. Green, wide eyes. Tanned skin, the way his forearm flexed as he gripped the railing. You could remember the way his touch felt as he dragged his fingertips over your skin. You tried to shake the memory from your mind. “Just do me one favor.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t tell Bob,” you whispered. “Let’s just forget the other night ever happened.”

Jake’s gaze lingered. “If that’s what you want.”

You pushed up off of the railing. “It’ll be better, trust me.” You headed for the door, turning around at the last moment. Jake was still leaning against the railing, watching the waves in the dark. “Jake?”

He turned, green eyes wide. There was something almost sad about him, you thought. It was a fleeting glimpse, but you saw it.

“Happy birthday.”

He smiled. You turned, peering through the glass on the wood door. Bob had his head thrown back in a laugh as Bradley pounded against the piano keys and Phoenix danced. You smiled. Your brother was happy.

You weren’t going to ruin his perfectly crafted life by saying you had slept with one of his friends. It would be easier for everyone if you and Jake Seresin pretended you had never met before.

How would they ever catch you in your lie?

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @wkndwlff @mamachasesmayhem @mandylove1000 @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @rosiahills22 @buckysteveloki-me @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @eloquentdreamer @mjisbby @shanimallina87 @seresinslady @seresinhangmanjake @blackwidownat2814 @yanna-banana @bbyvanessaa @mrsjobarnes @midnightmagpiemama @ingoaliesitrust @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @iangiemae @joaquinwhorres @boiolay @sometimesanalice @spinning-away

417 notes · View notes

m-ayo-o · 5 months

Text

relevé

ngl wanna start a succubus girlfriend au from this kinktober fic

18+ succubus reader x 21+ megumi. cw: reader has non human features; wings, horns, tail, pointed ears. she can turn invisible. voyeurism (watching him). mutual masturbation. edging. dream bj/m. oral. wc: 2.4k

After a few strange encounters on this campus, you've taken to hiding in the little den you've made in an unused dormitory, only venturing out to stretch your wings now and then.

You're out for an evening stroll when you notice a particular dark haired sorcerer you haven't seen before. You were only going to the vending machine to get a soda, but you may be getting a bit distracted.

Using your invisibility, you step to the side of the illuminated machine and watch him approach, shoving some coins in and selecting his desired drink.

He looks pissed off. And tired.

He snatches the can of coffee from the machine and starts striding away. You follow him on impulse, ignoring the nagging voice telling you this is dangerous, don't you remember what happened last time?

You get to his apartment door, but you at least have the sense not to enter tonight.

He shrugs off his jacket and approaches the window, where you're hovering just outside, peeking through the open curtains. Squinting his eyes, he peers into the night and seems to make direct eye contact with you. You panic momentarily, flitting about, until you realise he's looking through you, at the moon.

He sighs, rubs his forehead and rests his head in his palms, leaning on the windowsill.

He looks deep in thought, perhaps worried. But that doesn't take away from his breathtaking beauty, especially in the starlight.

He tilts his head up, allowing you to see his pretty features, and you watch the way his deep blue eyes stare so longingly, his dark lashes batting with every tired blink. He runs a hand over his neck, ruffling his inky black mess of hair, and to your pleasure he reaches further back, tugging his t-shirt up and over his head.

You can see his whole upper body now, illuminated in the pale glow of the moon.

He's enchanting.

You watch him for a moment longer, your eyes lingering lower and lower, until he pulls the curtains closed and you hear him step away.

In your agitated disappointment you try to follow him from the outside, searching for another window. But to your dismay you find his bathroom blinds closed as you hear him turn on the shower, so you withdraw for the night and return to your room.

During the following days you cannot get his image out of your mind. You desperately chase after him, but he's just so busy you can barely keep up.

You watch him work like a dog, up to his nose in assignments and missions, some with other sorcerers, most by himself. He sometimes advises students when he gets time, but he seems too busy to be involved in teaching like some of the others. Whatever his role is, he seems to be working himself to the bone, leaving him exhausted.

You hear the students calling his first name in the corridors... how rude, you think.

But you get to hear his name, nonetheless.

Megumi.

And you commit it to your memory, each syllable seared into your mind never to forget.

At the end of each day you watch him trudge to his apartment, often with stacks of books and supplies, other times with blood stained uniform, sometimes both.

Despite his punishing schedule, the man still finds time for himself, allowing you to watch his routines as you start following him closely, daring to enter his cosy home.

You've seen his nighttime habits play through for the whole week, and on Friday it's the same deal; showering, eating, cleaning, relaxing. He often reads or perches on the small balcony, sometimes playing music to fill the silence of his solitude. Perhaps he likes it like this. He seems quite content.

You watch him flick off the stereo, turn the lights down and head to bed, humming softly to himself. He sets his book on the bedside table and you know your favourite part is coming next.

Every time you see him you have to bite your lip so tight so you don't make a noise.

But you can't take your eyes away when he strips himself.

He gets into bed and to your surprise, doesn't pick up his book.

He props himself up against the headboard and his hand starts running down his defined chest and abs.

Oh my god, he's finally masturbating!

You manage to hold back a delighted squeak and watch him massage himself, the covers pulled over where you need to see him most.

But he grunts and sighs until there's an incredible tent in his sheets.

Wow. Your mouth hangs open.

He gets hotter, his pent up frustrations building, until he rips the covers down and exposes himself fully.

"Oh" you accidentally whimper out loud, seeing his erection for the first time.

Luckily he didn't hear you over his heavy breathing, and your hand was already covering your mouth in anticipation of letting something slip.

You watch him in his pleasure filled state, his usual frown replaced by bite swollen lips and flushed cheeks. His eyebrows bunch up, his mouth hanging open with a quiet moan. His hips stutter and quiver looking as though he's about to release, but his hand only slows.

Oh fuck.

You have to start touching yourself to the sight of him. It's very rare that you do this, the pleasure does not satiate you, but tonight you can't resist. You want to feel connected to him.

Your fingers snake down into your soaked panties and you start tracing your clit while he edges himself.

You catch up with him quickly, bringing yourself up to the precipice of a hard orgasm only for him to stop again. You let a little whimper slip and your body freezes, in tandem with his.

Then you go again, watching him look down as if to question what he's doing to himself. You follow his pace carefully, tapping and circling yourself in sync with his pumping.

This time his abs start clenching up and you watch the way his waist dips in so beautifully. You can tell he's going to do it this time, now his jerking and thrusting is getting harder and faster.

Out of all his sexual pleasure and beauty, the sight that brings you down is him spitting on his cock.

Your body trembles and clenches around absolutely nothing, watching him get dripping wet, thighs shaking, and he finally releases his hot load over his abs.

You watch him deliver a few final tugs until he reaches for some tissues.

In your countless experiences of edging men, you've never seen one do it to himself and enjoy it so much. Although he's just finished, you can't wait to see him like that again. Hopefully next time you'll be the one giving him such feverish pleasure.

Desperate to get your fix of him, you get to work entering his dreams and finding your way into his fantasies.

To your disadvantage, despite his exhaustion after each long day, he's tough and resilient, making it difficult to break down the fortified walls of his mind.

It takes you multiple attempts for him to finally let you in, but when he gives in to your temptations, you get him whimpering in seconds and cumming in minutes. It's a rushed meal, but you're starving and the way he's moaning is giving you exactly what you need. It's like pure ecstasy, his body taking you higher than any man you've tasted before.

And you get addicted.

You visit him over and over.

He trudges home. You follow.

He takes care of himself. You watch.

He gets into bed. You enter his dreams.

Again and again, you appear before him and take your fill.

During your visits he's usually out cold, in a deep, restless sleep, but as the weeks pass you notice his eyes starting to flicker open, still seeming too tired to acknowledge you properly.

But he sees you. And you stare into those dark blue irises that hide secrets in their depths.

From Megumi's perspective, he realises he's been feeling very sexually satisfied recently. He feels hornier and he's getting turned on so easily

One day he's settling down on the sofa after cleaning his apartment and your image enters his mind. He gets so turned on from the thought of you and slowly starts to realise what you've been doing to him.

He ponders it for a moment then looks down to find himself growing hard.

You watch this predicament unfold from outside. You know exactly what's happening. The look of confusion and anger that initially crosses his features, slowly clouded by a look of desire.

You hover for a moment longer and notice how he's rubbing himself through his trousers. That isn't going to work, you think.

After your countless evenings in his bed, you finally work up the courage to present yourself to him tonight.

So you gently tap at the window, peeking through and revealing yourself.

To your relief, he isn't startled, but approaches the window with a curious expression.

"It's you..."

You hear him through the panes of glass.

You nod with a shy smile, watching him slide the catch and pull the window open.

"Come in"

You shift around awkwardly then flutter in, and he watches you land on the carpeted floor of his living room.

And before you utter a word to each other, you're drawn closer and he pulls you in.

The way he treats you makes your ego swell. He's giving you the softest kisses and placing such respectful, thoughtful touches over your body.

"You've been in my head," he breathes out between your passionate movements, "in my dreams?" He sounds confused, disbelieving, perhaps.

You nod, gripping his hands as he continues sliding his tongue over yours, clearly not dissuaded by your immoral actions.

"I, I needed to..." you whisper into the small gap between your lips.

"You needed..." he looks down, "this?"

His hand works over the bulge in his pants and you nod hesitantly, your lip between your teeth.

He looks into your eyes again and finally smiles. Your stomach flips, your eyes flying wide as if you can take in any more of him.

It's a little cocky, more of a smirk, but his face lights up regardless, seeing the way you're looking up at him so innocently.

"Hey, don't act all coy..." his smile grows, teasing you now, "how many times have you sucked me off already?"

How he's acting, how he's speaking to you, how he looks- how have you found a man so perfect?

He's got you all muddled up, your eyes blinking at him slowly, his question entering your ears and flooding to your cheeks.

"I- I... don't know"

"No, neither do I," his little smile is making you dizzy now, "but I'd like you to do it again, if that's ok?"

You're amazed. You can't believe he's offering himself to you- a winged, pointy eared, sharp toothed demon- so freely.

"A-are, are you sure?"

You look down over your body, suddenly doubting yourself.

But you get butterflies through your chest when he tilts your chin up again, your face resting in his cool, firm hand.

"It's more like, I need you." He pauses, looking down, "My body... reacts to you." He looks up again, his thumb tracing your chin.

All of your hesitation is dispelled when you hear his next words.

"I want you."

With that, you drop to your knees and let him get inside you as quickly as possible.

He yanks down his pants and frees his hard cock, slipping himself between your eagerly waiting lips.

"Ohhh, fuck," he slides in and he gives you more than you can take, fucking your throat and getting you drooling and messy.

But he's in a state himself, bucking his hips while trying desperately to ease his hard grip on your hair. You only encourage him, moaning and taking him deeper every time he pulls.

"You like that?"

"Mm, mmmm" you hum over him, loving every second of him fulfilling his instincts, his deepest pleasure filled urges becoming reality.

"Fuck- good, I like a girl who can take it a bit rough-" he mutters between his now laboured breaths.

"Wanted to fuck your pretty mouth like this... before-" his eyes squeeze closed, his head falling back, allowing you to feast your gaze on his neck and jaw.

The way he compliments you with such dirty words gets you gushing. You swear you could absorb pleasure from his voice alone.

A thought suddenly dawns on him while his abs are clenching up, the familiar feeling of his impending release flooding through his body.

"I-I don't even know your name?" he huffs, questioning you, but you don't stop. You can't stop now. However much he seems to love edging, you can't do it tonight. You need him.

So you suck and feel him shake and deliver the hot mess you've been craving, taking every drop, its potency ten fold now you're taking his conscious, consenting pleasure.

You drink in his every shaky vocalisation, watching him come down as you clean him off, pulling away and admiring him from below.

After licking your lips and enjoying your meal, you peer up at him and finally answer his question.

"y/n. I'm a succubus. Nice to meet you."

From there, you entered a rather curious relationship with the dark haired sorcerer, striking up a deal so you can get a reliable fill.

He agrees, under the condition that you'll let him have sex with you and won't go to any other man.

"I want you for myself."

You nod in agreement, his every gesture thus far telling you that he's not going to hurt you, and that for once, you've found a man who needs you as much as you need him.

megumi

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #female reader #megumi fushiguro #18+ content #megumi x reader #succubus!reader #succubus girlfriend #succubus fic #megumi smut #megumi imagine #megumi <3

432 notes · View notes

mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 9 months

Text

Two Hearts, One Home

series masterlist

main masterlist

summary: ben hears something when he holds you close

pairing: soldier boy x female supe!reader

rating: R for language, sexual themes (?)

word count: 2.4k

warnings: pregnancy, language, spoilers for the office | mentions of/alludes to - vought torturing supe’s, sex, birth control, infertility issues and abortion

timeline: set in an au a few years after season three; this soldier boy has changed a lot personality wise, he’s a much better person then he was in season three.

author’s note: inspired by this clark kent fic by the lovely @burreaux-drys <3

another note: thinking of doing a part two because i really love how this turned out! let me know if you would like another part, cause i definitely left this fic very open ended :) there’s a part two now :)

gif source

The smell of freshly cooked bacon slowly brought Ben out of his peaceful sleep as he rolled over to pull you closer to him. His eyes flew open when he realized you weren’t sleeping next to him, but he calmed down after a moment of assuring himself you’d never just walk out on this relationship. He put on his sweatpants from the day before and left your shared bedroom.

“Is that my t-shirt?” He smiled as he walked into the kitchen.

“I figured if I was making breakfast and bringing it to you, you wouldn’t need this shirt yet,” you replied, smirking. He walked up to you and gave you a quick kiss on the lips before taking a seat at the table a few feet behind you.

“Smells delicious sweetheart,” he yawned. “But isn’t it my turn to make us breakfast? You cooked dinner last night.”

“I woke up before you and couldn’t bring myself to wake you up.” You turned around and watched as he yawned again. “God, you’re exhausted!” You walked over to him and ran your fingers through his hair as he rested his forehead on your abdomen. “Did you not fall asleep when I did?”

“Shh!” he exclaimed suddenly. He put his hands on your waist as he turned his head and pressed his ear against you.

“Ben-”

“Shut your beautiful mouth for just two seconds.”

“Excuse me?” you asked, slightly insulted.

“Sorry,” he replied quickly as he turned his head to look at you. You were met with his trademark puppy-dog-pout that always made your heart melt. “Please shut your beautiful mouth?” You rolled your eyes a little but nodded nonetheless. You knew he meant well.

He put his ear back against your abdomen then straightened up and put his ear to your chest. He went back and forth between the two a couple times without saying anything.

“Okay,” you suddenly said, getting a little freaked out. “Seriously Ben, what the hell?”

“You’re pregnant.” He looked up at you again with a huge smile. “Baby you- you’re pregnant!”

“Uh, no I’m not? And that’s not funny Ben,” you scoffed as you backed away before turning to face the stove.

“I’m not kidding! I can hear our baby’s heartbeat!” he exclaimed as he stood up.

“That’s my heartbeat, Ben,” you replied flatly. “If it sounds weird it’s just because I’m a Supe.”

“Honey, I've listened to your heartbeat every night for almost three years now, I know what it sounds like. Just like I know that right now, there are two hearts beating inside you.”

“You’re adorable.” You shook your head. You reached to take a sip of your coffee but he stopped you.

“Wait…” He narrowed his eyes. “You can’t have caffeine when you’re pregnant.”

“And where the hell did you learn that?” You raised a brow. There was no way this man had read a pregnancy book ever in his life, and you doubted he learned that in school a hundred years ago.

“When Pam was pregnant on The Office, Angela said she shouldn’t even drink out of a cup that used to have regular coffee,” he replied, a smile returning to his face.

“God I love how much you love that show.” You smiled. “But I’m not pregnant, Ben and I’m really tired. Can you please let me drink my coffee?”

He shook his head, “Sorry, you’re carrying my child now. Our child. No caffeine for you, honey.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you grumbled, flipping the pancakes you’d been working on.

“I’ll finish breakfast, you sit down,” he said. He gently pulled you away from the stove before you sat down.

“Ben, this is ridiculous! I can still cook!” He ignored your protests by continuing your work in the kitchen.

The pancakes and bacon were soon finished and Ben put some on a plate for you before doing the same for himself and taking a seat at the table with you. You focused on your food as you tried to ignore Ben just staring at you. Chin resting on his knuckles, a huge smile plastered on his face, as green eyes watched your every move.

“Ben,” you sighed before looking at him. “I’m not pregnant! Would you stop acting like I’m some miracle and just eat your damn food?”

“But this is a miracle!” he protested. “I don’t think you realize how huge this is!”

“Alright, that’s it! After we eat, we’re going to the store and buying a pregnancy test. We need to run some errands anyway, we’re nearly out of food. Not to mention we’re down to next to nothing for alcohol, which is absolutely unacceptable.”

Ben knitted his brows for a moment, as if in thought, before saying, “You can’t have alcohol while you're pregnant either, right?” You jutted your jaw out in annoyance and looked at him. “Also Office; Jim and Pam’s wedding.”

You really should’ve opted to go to the store alone, not that Ben would’ve happily agreed, but anything was better than this. He’d been “protecting” you from quite literally everything and it was starting to drive you nuts. He wouldn’t let you drive, he insisted on pushing the cart, and when you went to reach for something that was even slightly above eye level he pulled your hand away and got it for you.

“You shouldn’t be walking down this aisle, sweetheart!” he exclaimed when you turned to enter your favorite section of Walmart. “Does this smell really not affect the baby?”

“Ben, I can be near alcohol without putting ‘the baby’ in any sort of danger,” you replied, using air quotes because you still didn’t believe you were pregnant.

He pulled you to a stop before you could actually enter the aisle. He looked into your eyes with his concern filled ones and kept his gentle grip on your upper arm.

“Promise me right now that this aisle will have no effect on the baby if you are pregnant,” he said.

“Ben, why the hell would closed liquor bottles have any effect on me or the baby?”

“The very intense smell?” he replied.

“Oh, your Supe smell! That makes more sense. Yeah, I can’t smell the alcohol unless it’s actually open, Ben. If I am pregnant, our baby won’t be affected.”

He nodded as he let go before you walked down the aisle, picking out a few drinks you liked and a few Ben liked. He followed you around the store pushing the cart, lightly scolding you every time you reached above your head or for something that looked slightly heavy.

“Oh you two are an adorable couple!” An elderly woman exclaimed, seeing Ben reaching to grab something for you.

“Thank you!” You smiled sweetly.

“How long have you two been together?” she asked. “You remind me so much of my granddaughter and her husband!”

“We’ve been dating for a little over two years now,” you replied. “How old is your granddaughter?”

“She’s pregnant!” Ben informed the woman, who then smiled widely. Before she could congratulate the two of you, Ben exclaimed; “We weren’t even trying or anything, but I got her pregnant! My super sperm just whoosh! Right through the birth control!” Your eyes widened.

“Oh god! I’m sorry!” you called out as the woman hurried away seeming horrified.

You turned to Ben, a shit-eating smile on his face. He was practically glowing with pride.

“What?” he asked, noticing your very unamused look.

“One, why did you feel the need to traumatize that poor lady? And two, I am not pregnant!”

“One, sex is a part of life, she’s not traumatized. And two, stop saying that! How can you be so positive that you aren’t pregnant?”

“Because there’s just no way Ben,” you sighed. He stayed looking at you, a confused look washing over his features. “After all the experiments with Vought, there’s just no way I can be pregnant, Ben.” His smile faded as a sad one found it’s way to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Well…maybe I really do have super sperm?” he suggested, slightly smiling again.

“Ben I’m being serious.” You shook your head a little. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Okay, I won’t,” he lied. He bent down and kissed you sweetly. “Let’s go get you that pregnancy test though, because if you really aren’t pregnant then I’m afraid you might have two hearts.”

“I love you,” you laughed a little.

“I love you too,” he replied.

When you reached the pregnancy test section, unfortunately the most trusted brand was ‘too high up on the shelf’ so, of course, Ben grabbed it.

“Uh, could you grab two?” you asked after he tossed one into the cart. Ben furrowed his brows a little. “These tests aren’t always accurate, if we want to be sure we should get two.”

“Wait, these tests aren’t accurate?”

“Not always,” You shrugged a little.

“Then we need way more than two!” he exclaimed. He proceeded to grab about ten-or-so more, tossing them all into the cart.

“Yeah that’s a little overkill,” you laughed. “We need three at most.”

“We’re both Supes, we need as many positive pregnancy tests as possible!”

“Okay, well now this cart makes us look like we’re boycotting Trojan. Besides, I can't pee ten times today!”

“You can take some today, some tomorrow; just drink lots of water!”

“Or we could just do the normal thing and I could see a doctor?”

“Hun…you know we can’t,” Ben sighed. He walked around the cart so he could hold you, putting his hands on your waist and pulling you to lean on his chest. He rested his head on yours as he continued very quietly, “If you are pregnant you…you’re a Supe pregnant with another Supe’s baby, that’s not something they’ll just let slide. Who knows what those monsters might do if they find out.”

“Right,” you breathed. “Fine, I’ll take a ridiculous amount of pregnancy tests.”

“Thank you!” He grinned.

“Alright,” you said as you held up the first unused pregnancy test, about to head into the bathroom, “here goes nothing.”

“Honey, wait.” Ben stopped you. “Do…Do you want to be pregnant?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged a little. You weren’t sure, really. You’d always assumed you couldn’t have kids so you hadn’t given it much thought.

“You don’t have to take the test,” he said, brows knitted with concern. “We- We can just pretend I never heard the heartbeat and maybe it’ll just…go away.”

“Ben-”

“I want to have kids with you. I really, really fucking do! But I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything! If you don’t want this baby, just…just say the word.”

“Ben, I want kids with you too.” You smiled, taking his hand in your empty one. “I really do! There’s just no way anything down there is working like it should! I mean if Vought didn’t fuck me up, being exposed to your radiation for so long definitely did.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, his expression growing even more sad. “But…I’m clean now, I- I mean the radiation’s all gone?”

“I know, and I’m not blaming you for one second Ben, it’s all Vought,” you replied quickly. “However, if by some miracle I am pregnant I’ll be fucking thrilled! I just don’t want you to be disappointed; you seem really excited about this and I’m worried about what’s gonna happen when I walk back out and this test is negative.”

“If it turns out you really aren’t pregnant, nothing’s gonna change between us! I mean, I’ll definitely get my hearing checked out and maybe you should get your heart looked at, but after that we’ll go back to bacon, burgers, and booze!”

You let out a laugh. God, you loved the man standing in front of you.

“Okay.” You smiled.

“I love you,” he said before kissing you. “Now get in there and pee!”

“I love you!” you exclaimed before walking into the bathroom.

Three hours and five pregnancy tests later (yes, definitely overkill, but you both wanted to be sure), you stood with Ben in the bathroom and stared at the results sitting on the counter. One negative, four positives. And yet, there was still a part of you that wouldn’t let yourself believe it was true.

You heard Ben laughing a little so you looked at him through the mirror.

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed. “You’re pregnant!” You smiled as you watched tears of joy begin to fall down his face. “You- Fuck! We’re gonna have a baby!?” He took your face in his hands and kissed you before quite literally falling to his knees.

“Ben?” you asked, a little concerned.

“I love you so fucking much!” he looked up at you. He sat up and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your abdomen against his face. “Hello little guy!” He mumbled against you.

“Or girl!” you corrected. “Or non-binary person!”

“I was using ‘guy’ as an umbrella term,” he replied, not moving, your heart swelling with pride. “That’s why I didn’t say ‘boy’.”

“I love you,” you laughed a little.

“Hear that little one? Your mommy loves me!” He still spoke to your stomach.

You couldn’t help the tears streaming down your face at this point, you were so happy to see him this excited. You felt the fear you had about this pregnancy, albeit temporarily, wash away and be replaced with pure joy.

Ben was staring at the computer getting more and more frustrated with himself with each passing second.

“God-fuckin’-damnit!” he mumbled, putting his face in his hands.

“Ben? What’s wrong?”

“I thought you were asleep?” He looked up at you, suddenly very worried. “Are you okay? Is it something with the baby?” You let out a soft laugh as you placed a kiss on the crown of his head.

“I’m fine Ben,” you mumbled into his hair. “Why’re you still up? I thought you were coming to bed after your shower?”

“Well, while I was in the shower I realized I know absolutely nothing about how to take care of you or a baby so I figured I should order some books but I can’t navigate this fucking website!”

“Can I help?” you asked, taking a seat on his lap after he nodded. “What books were you thinking? Any specific ones? Or just pregnancy books in general?”

“Just books in general,” he replied. He snaked his arms around you, gently securing your back against his chest.

“You know…I really should see a doctor soon to be sure our baby’s okay,” you said as you searched through Amazon’s selection of books.

“I know,” he sighed. “Is it alright if I ask Hughie to find a trustworthy doctor that won’t rat us out?”

“That’d be perfect, Ben.”

Part 2

#the boys #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fluff #the boys tv #the boys fanfic #the boys fluff #by jean #by mind empty just fictional people #mind empty’s two hearts one home

851 notes · View notes

yawnderu · 6 months

Text

Bruises That Bloom Purple — TF141 x Reader

>This was originally going to be a part of my 141 x Reader fanfic Stray, though I decided to change the ending, so have this angst one-shot instead.

When Johnny left them, they mourned. But he also took a part of Stray; the part that made her human.

The journal in your hands was a reminder of everything you lost— everything that Johnny had in mind ever since he met the task force. Pages upon pages full of scribbles, drawings, plans. His mind poured into the paper as if he didn't want to forget, some pages stained with coffee and blood, some fully clean. Your hands shook as you held the small book close to your chest, sob after sob escaping your lips for so long that the migraine became a second part of you.

"Johnny..." You cried out, hoping he would walk through the door. Hoping he would appear out of nowhere, hoping he would take you with him, hoping for anything, anything at all that allowed you to see his pretty blue eyes again, to be held securely in his arms again, to be kissed by him again. Fuck, even the image of him hurt.

You didn't lose a teammate— you lost a soulmate. A piece of you, of your soul, a piece so crucial to you Makarov might as well have ripped your heart out and left you to bleed pathetically on the cold floor of the underground tunnel.

You're sobbing so loud you don't even hear the polite knock on the door, eyes screwed shut tightly, sealed by the tears that come flowing down like a broken dam. You don't register anything going on around you until you feel a bare hand on your cheek, vision blurry, yet you can recognize that burly figure anywhere— Simon. You don't do anything other than to keep sobbing, pressing the journal closer to your chest, maybe hoping it'll start sinking into your skin and will allow you to have a part of Johnny within you.

"I'm here, love." He whispers softly, his tone more gentle than anything you've ever heard. He slowly lays in bed with you and brings you closer to his chest, not minding the mess of saliva, tears, and snot now staining his shirt.

"Somethin' to keep your heart safe." He pressed something cold into your hand— Soap's dog tags. You instantly hold them tightly, using them as a lifeline to stay with it. Simon presses a soft kiss against your forehead before his hand presses on the back of your head, holding you even closer, allowing you to cry on him.

"Johnny had the braid you gave him with him all the time, did ya know? Kept it tucked away in his jacket. I r'member him talkin' about it all the time, braggin' about how you gave 'im that." A small chuckle escapes your lips for the first time ever since he died, the sound full of pain and bitterness, yet it was something. It gave Simon all the confirmation he needed to keep talking.

"He kept everythin' you gave 'im. If it wasn't the bloody braid, it was a picture. If it wasn't one of those... it was a letter." And you know it was true. You've read his journal for what feels like hundreds of times, some of the letters you gave him were tucked away in pages with drawings of you. If a letter wasn't there, it was one of the many polaroids he had of you. Some alone, some together, some with the entire task force, including a masked Ghost.

Your throat is too sore from sobbing, you couldn't even speak if you wanted to, so you simply nod while laying your head against his chest. There's something about Simon that has always glued you together— something about the man who, even when you didn't get along at first, gave you an odd sense of comfort. Perhaps it's his smell, perhaps his voice, and maybe even his soul, that always seems to be one with yours.

"For Johnny, 't was a reminder that he was never alone." He kisses your forehead again, one of his hands gently massaging your scalp while the other one rubs up and down your back, spreading the warmth of his hand all over your trembling body.

You remember the exact same moment you gave him that braid. A protection braid made with a small strand of the bottom of your hair, sealed with words of affirmation and wishes of the future, a few months after your relationship with the men started. Love. Survival. Companionship.

"When we..." You began, voice wavering and weak, yet it had Simon's full focus. "When we scatter his ashes, can you do me a favor?" He'd do anything for you.

At 15:30, the 141 arrived at the cliff. You're all stuck in silence for a few minutes, mourning in your own ways while looking at the sunset and the ocean below you. The view is nothing short of breathtaking, yet the heartbreak is too great to fully appreciate it. You can't help but think Johnny would have loved this view, but the thought is quickly interrupted.

"He was the best of us." Price says, gravely voice growing even deeper at the pain of losing such an important part of his soul.

"The toughest." Gaz continues, looking into the ocean.

"He'd've fought the world bare handed..." Simon replies and all you can do is look into the water, trying your best to hold it together. Simon leans down, grabbing the urn from his backpack. He holds it up and you all put your hands on it, holding a part of Johnny for the last time.

"Who dares wins..." And win he did. At the very least, Johnny found a family.

"Sleep easy, soldier." More than a soldier, Johnny was the son he never had.

"See you down range, brother... we'll take it from here."

"Rest easy, my friend. You’ll never be forgotten." You fought off the urge to call him your love, your soulmate, yet they all knew what was in your mind.

"Rest in peace, Johnny." The words barely came out of his lips. It was like losing Tommy all over again. Simon opens the urn and lets the wind take Johnny's ashes, flying away, freeing his soul. You all look at him go and you manage to let a small smile take over your lips, watching proudly as he flies away, despite knowing he took a part of your soul with him.

Simon and you stay behind, knowing Price and Gaz will be waiting in the car for you. You slowly sink down to your knees, hands resting on your lap. It doesn't take long before Simon kneels behind you, hands gathering your hair before he begins to braid.

Revenge. Death. Vengeance.

His free hand pulls out a combat knife that belonged to Soap, lining up the razor sharp blade to your hair. With one smooth motion, he slides through the hair easily, letting the now shoulder length strands fall free. He places the braid on your lap and you look down at it, eventually letting the hair go down the cliff the same way you let go of Johnny.

You never let go of grief— you grow around it. And despite the agony your soul is in, you know these three men will do anything for you, the same way you'll do anything for them.

303 notes · View notes

bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove · 1 year

Text

Rainy Days- B.Barnes

Summary: A rainy Monday spent between Bucky, his lover and Alpine.

Parings: Bucky x Fem!Reader, very brief mentions of Steve and Sam

Fic Warnings: Use of Y/N(only once), Fem!reader, soft!Bucky, Bucky dog-ears book pages, mention of the book A Little Life.

Author’s Note: There is dog-ear slander in this fic, I personally hate dog-earing book pages so it’s in here. Feedback is always welcomed and my asks are open if you want to ask me any questions. I am not taking requests at this time but I will definitely post if I ever open them.

My full Masterlist

Hope you enjoy! :)

Word Count: 970

gif not mine

It was an early autumn morning on a mundane Monday in Brooklyn. Rush hour was just starting, the sounds of the cars passing by the apartment window as well as the gentle patter of the rain were relaxing. She didn’t want to get out of bed. It was warm, the mood was just right and she was wrapped in the arms of the man she loved. Bucky was still fast asleep beside her, mumbling incoherent phrases in his slumber, sometimes catching a few words that did make sense which made her quietly giggle.

She knew that once his nose twitched, he was starting to wake. Letting out a soft hum, he pulled his lover closer to his chest and sighed contently once feeling the weight of her head close to his heart. He was awake but was refusing to open his eyes, clinging to sleep, hoping he could find his way back to dreamland. Of course that got interrupted by the incessant meowing at the foot of their warm and cozy bed. The couple broke out of their bubble in a fit of sleepy laughter.

“Poor girl, you feelin’ left out, Alpine?” Bucky chuckled, finally opening his eyes. He had opened his free hand out to the white ball of fur, who greedily started rubbing her head on his palm. Alpine had waltzed her way up the bed and planted herself right on his chest, her tail smacking Y/N in the face as it flitted around happily. Bucky let out another sleepy chuckle when he noticed that his girl was getting assaulted by the cat’s tail. “You’re smacking your mama in the face, come here,” He patted his empty shoulder which Alpine quickly and happily took over. Now it was Bucky getting smacked in the face with her tail but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Good morning, handsome,” She smiled up at him, her voice just as tired as his was.

“Good morning, gorgeous. You okay with staying in bed all day?” Before she could answer, he kissed her lips lovingly, not caring about morning breath, just her.

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else.” Alpine let out a loud meow in protest, obviously hungry. “Maybe after we feed this little gremlin,” She laughed softly before sitting up and slowly getting out of bed. As she left their bedroom, Alpine jumped right down and followed her out, Bucky sighing softly once more. He was thanking whoever sent this woman into his life.

When she reentered the room, he took in her appearance. Her hair disheveled, the mascara that refused to come off now smudged under her eyes, her eyes bleary and still very much sleepy and her body practically drowning in his blue t-shirt. In her hands she held two cups of coffee, hers was in a mug with his face on it, which Steve had gotten her as a joke but now it was her favorite and his was in a mug with Sam’s EXO-7 wings on it, which Sam had given him as a housewarming gift, he would never admit it but it was his favorite mug.

He grunted as he sat up in bed, accepting the cup of coffee gratefully and pulling her back into his arms once she was sat down on the bed again. The two of them enjoyed the silence for a while, just listening to the rain and the cars passing by. Bucky started a quiet conversation that spiraled, the two of them talking for hours in bed, just enjoying each other’s company. Traffic was long gone, the rain coming to an end, their coffee cups empty, the music that Bucky turned on playing softly in the back. Of course it was 40s music because the man refused to listen to anything else, his guilty pleasure was Harry Styles but he never told a soul about that one.

“You wanna pick up where we left off last night?” Bucky asked her.

“Where were we?” She asked back.

He pulled the book from his nightstand, a gently used copy of A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara, and opened it to the page that held the bookmark. It was a bookmark that she had made for him when she learned about his horrible habit of dog-earing pages, the design simple but it was the thought she put behind it, the color she chose the same blue as his eyes; a daffodil pressed into the paper under the laminate, his birth flower which he had learned once it was gifted to him; and the handwritten words ‘I love you, James Barnes’ sat neatly on the bottom of the bookmark. Every time he saw it, he smiled.

“Looks like we left off with going into a little bit of Jude’s backstory. You ready?” When she nodded, he began reading aloud. Smiling even wider when she nestled herself under his vibranium arm, her head resting on his chest, right above his heart, her arms finding themselves around his waist. As they read on, the rain picked up again but they didn’t seem to notice. It felt like it was just the two of them in the whole world and of course Alpine. The further Bucky got into the book, the less he noticed around him, when he finally looked away from the page, he saw that she had fallen asleep again. Soft snores falling from her slightly parted lips, her arms hanging loosely around his waist, the neckline of her(his) shirt shifted to the right and there was nothing more perfect to him than this, than the love of his life fast asleep in his arms, dreaming of their future together. It didn’t take him long to follow after her, quickly finding himself in a peaceful slumber that he only seems to get with her in his arms.

1K notes · View notes

whocaresstillthelouvre · 22 days

Text

Enigma

Elks Chapter 4

Chapter Rating: M. Chapter Summary: Joel comes over to your home and stays for dinner, coffee, and a couch make out. Chapter Warnings: Domestic fluff, making out, some petting, internal dialogue panic, whiskey and coffee. Words: 3,600 Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: Life in Jackson is quite comfortable and simple for you. You love teaching your students and running your library, you love the comforts of living here, perfectly complacent with the company of your two cats, guitar, tattered CD book, and a few friends. You like comfortable and simple, though the feelings you feel whenever you see Joel Miller are quite the opposite. Once you meet him, it seems like he needs you in his life as much as you need him. Reader Background: Reader is in her 30's and comes from Colorado. No other physical descriptors besides her having long enough hair to put up. A/N: Godddd, this Joel is so soft and I love creating this happy ending for him. Hope you love it too.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist Playlist

***

“Ain't No Sunshine” by Bill Withers.

Saturday morning dawns, you haven’t slept that soundly in years, falling asleep to the thought of Joel’s lips on yours. The sun is out after days of rain and gray skies, a fresh start.

Your foot runs into something hard as you step out your front door, sitting in the middle of your porch is a wooden box, the perfect carrying size complete with handles cut into the sides. A note with sharp handwriting rests on it.

Your cardboard box isn’t going to make another trip. This should help. I’ll drop your guitar off tonight. - Joel

You lift the hinged lid to see more than enough room for all of your paint jars. Tears well up in your eyes. What did you do to deserve this? Did he really go home and make this last night? You put the box inside your home, taking a quick moment to rub your hand over the smooth sanded wood. Joel’s thoughtfulness causes a grin as you tuck his note into your back pocket. Beginning your early morning journey to the schoolhouse, you still glance for a peek of Joel as you pass his house.

——

You love your library, you love the look on fellow resident’s faces when they tell you they enjoyed a book that you recommended, being able to provide an escape with every page turned. You love that you hold volumes of encyclopedias and reference books, one of the few ways people can learn now. You love to catalog and fill your shelves with every single dog-eared and well read book patrollers bring you back.

You’re so fulfilled by your two jobs, your friends, your home, and the life you’ve carved out in Jackson. Now, after spending time with Joel, the emptiness you’ve been good at ignoring beats louder. You want his friendship, you want his attention, you want him.

You try to focus as much as you can on your work. Cataloging, checking out books, tutoring a couple of kids having difficulty learning to read. When you lock the doors to the school house at the end of the day, you sigh out in relief. Joel will be coming over soon.

——

A quick succession of knocks land on your door. You practically jump out of your chair and run to the door. Taking a deep breath to calm your nervous energy, smoothing down the fabric of your cotton shirt and linen pants. You haven’t had to second guess what you’re wearing in years, but today, you want to impress Joel.

A small exhale escapes your lips when you open your door. There stood in a flannel over a dark blue t-shirt is Joel holding a guitar with a small smile on his face. He looks so handsome, your knees feel a little weak.

“Hi,” you smile at him.

“Evening.”

“Come in,” you’re nervous now.

You love your home, and now Joel’s going to step into it. He’s about to metaphorically walk into your mind, all of your art on the wall, some of it found and some of it your own, your mismatched throw pillows on the couch, your chipped vase filled with fake flowers, your boot scuffs on the floor. You wonder if he felt the same way on the first day he opened the door for you, letting you into his studio where all of the things he loved laid. You are proud of your home, it’s no longer the desolate tiny apartment in the Denver QZ with only a threadbare blanket on a flat mattress.

He walks in, eyes roaming around your small and cozy living room. Shelves full of books, paintings, and little trinkets you’ve curated over your time in Jackson. Your mirrored wall that you hated when you first moved in but now welcome the bright light it reflects across the room. You painted birds all over it, making the few cracks into branches on a whim a year ago, and now it’s your favorite thing.

“Never thought people like you could still exist,” Joel focuses in on a sparrow you painted on a branch.

“People like me?”

“Yeah,” he turns to you, “still wanting to make things… nice.”

“I like what I like I guess,” you blush. “I really like the box you left on my porch, you really didn’t have to Joel, it’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“Was no bother, wanted to do it for you. Didn’t like the thought of that box ripping and spilling everything.”

“Well, thank you. I love it.”

“You’re welcome, there’s this too,” handing you the guitar. “S’all fixed and new, tuned it for you.”

“This is incredible, thank you.” It feels good to hold a guitar again, a huge smile breaks across your face. “I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it.”

You strum a couple of notes. You haven’t played guitar in almost a month, your fingers no longer need to play phantom notes, you have music back.

“Did you want to stay for dinner? I feel like I owe you a meal.”

“Of course, I’d love to.”

“I made sure to dust and I put my cats in my painting room, just in case you wanted to.” “Awful sweet of you.”

You hand your guitar back to Joel. “Do you want to play me some songs while I cook?”

“‘Course.”

——

The smell of peppers, onions, potatoes, and eggs fill the kitchen. You feel Joel watch you as you cut slices of bread and toast them in a pan, his eyes have been on you since you lead him to the kitchen. Sometimes you’ll glance over at him, he doesn’t even hide that he’s looking.

“How do you want your eggs? I’m having scrambled.”

“Over easy. Hate scrambled eggs…”

You nod and turn back to the stove, listening to Joel strum a song.

“That song’s really pretty. What is it?” You ask as you dish out the food and bring the plates of food over to the table.

“Pretty sure it’s called ‘Ain’t No Sunshine.’ Used to play it a lot when I was younger.” Joel puts your guitar against the wall as he watches you open a cupboard and pull out a small bottle of red sauce.

“It’s really pretty, I liked it,” placing the bottle on the table. Joel picks it up and brings it over looking at the little label that you drew a skull and crossbones and peppers on.

“Is this… hot sauce?” Joel’s eyes widen.

“Yep.”

“How did you get hot sauce?”

“Made it.”

“Wow, heh. I didn’t know people could still make hot sauce,” Joel says as he opens the bottle cap and smells it.

“Yep, I grow peppers in the Summer and boil them down with vinegar. My dad was pretty famous around town for his hot sauce, he used to make me help him during the harvest,” you sit down across from him. “I used to hate it, but now I’m thankful he made me learn.”

Joel sticks his finger out and places a couple drops of hot sauce on it. He holds it up to show you and with a nod tastes it. He smiles as his lips form around his finger, tasting the sauce.

“Mm, it’s good.” Your breath hitches as he takes his finger out of his mouth, the sound of his lips smacking reminds you of the kiss the two of you shared last night. Blinking out the memory you grab a piece of toast.

“Glad you like it, I have a few bottles, I’ll send you home with one.”

“Can’t believe you’re real,” murmurs out of his lips, as if he really didn’t mean to say it out loud. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” You hide a smile behind taking a bite out of toast. “Can’t tell you the last time I had breakfast at night…”

“I always have it. I love breakfast for dinner. It always seemed so special when I was a kid, eating pancakes after the sun goes down…now it just makes sense because I always have eggs and potatoes. Though I’d kill for a cinnamon roll…”

It all seems so normal, like Joel always comes over and sits across the table from you. Like you’re always putting two plates on the table, always hearing the sounds of two metal forks scraping against ceramic.

You’ve been alone for so long… happily. Satisfied by everything else in your life, never paying much attention to anyone who wanted your attention. You were good with alone, until you saw Joel… and now he’s wiping yolk off his chin from the egg you just cooked him in your kitchen.

——

“Did you want to stay for a bit?” Your boldness surprising you as you put away the rest of the dishes after dinner.

“Sure, of course I do.” Joel’s smile lighting up his entire face.

You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to making him smile, seeing the way his lips curve up, the glimpse of his teeth, the dimple deepening in his cheek. You’re used to drawing the things you want to see, to be able to make Joel smile is better than any art piece you’ll ever create.

“Did you want coffee or tea? Saturday’s my late night, might make it to midnight if I have company.”

“Coffee sounds good.”

“Whiskey?”

“Please.”

Normal, again. The two of you falling into conversation easily, never about anything of importance. Your favorite things about Jackson, the TV shows you used to watch, your first concerts. Nothing heavy or scary, a quiet agreement that you both understand that to reach the ages you both are, you mutually had to live through the worst of the worst. Joel doesn’t mention his daughter and you don’t bring her up. You sit in your plaid reading chair across from him on your couch his body taking up half of the cushions as he rests an arm on the back of it. He looks so comfortable, so relaxed. You’ve been splitting a flask between the two of you for the past hour, the taste of your coffee getting weaker each time you add whiskey.

“What was your couch like?” You ponder.

“Hm?”

You take another sip of your coffee, the whiskey causing a slight burn down your throat as you swallow.

“Your couch. What was it like in Texas?”

“What a weird question,” Joel’s smile gets blocked by his coffee cup as he takes another drink.

“I think you can tell a lot about someone by the type of furniture they choose. My mom very much liked neat and tidy and loved her house to look like it was right out of a catalog. We had some fancy regal looking floral abomination that was so uncomfortable to sit in but she thought it looked good. My dad didn’t care as long as he had somewhere comfortable to watch the Rockies… so it was just a normal brown couch that had recliners and pulldown cupholders in the middle.”

He sighs and adjusts in his seat. “Had a brown leather sofa, took up most of the living room, but didn’t mind because it was so comfortable.”

“See! I knew you had something big and leather.”

“Really now?”

“Yes, I swear. I look at you and I think… big.”

“Big?”

And right when Joel lifts his eyebrows at you is where you know you should’ve stopped talking.

“Yeah,” you exhale. “You always look so big and broad. Strong but gentle, capable but eager to learn and listen, rugged yet soft like… someone I’ve never seen before. You’re like a full on enigma.”

Your big mouth strikes again.

“An enigma?” Joel chugs the rest of his coffee, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “M’sorry sweetheart, what’s that?”

“A mystery… like I can’t figure you out. I haven’t been able to since the Tipsy Bison that first day I saw you…” stop talking, stop talking, “…you have this aura around you that you’re Joel Miller, Tommy’s brother, don’t talk to him…” seriously, shut up “…and yet you were so kind and gentle to me when I fell. You practically forced me to let you help with the books and then you stuck around to help set up everything…” stop talking, shut up “…and then you have me paint flowers in your house and you’re so sweet and so welcoming to me…” Okay, be quiet. You’re about to say something you don’t want to say. “…I’ve watched you since I first saw you and I still can’t figure you out…” and now you’ve said too much, “an enigma.” You huff the last words out, tipping your head back against your chair. Damn whiskey.

“You know, s’funny, I remember seeing you when I first got here too.” The way his words are gently spoken causes you to look at him. His eyes are on you, zero judgment lines his face. “Was a bad day, had a lot of feelings about Tommy and how he found happiness so easily here. I was in my head so much and at the worst moment, I look over and see you staring right at me. You made me forget those thoughts for a split second, just seeing you standing there. So beautiful and bright eyed in that light purple shirt… same shirt you were wearing when I helped you with your knee… kinda like you dropped from heaven in front of my house.”

His honesty takes your breath away, the admission of shared feelings between the two of you sent back and forth across your coffee table as your two empty mugs rest atop it. What you see is what you get from Joel, what he says he means, you know he’s not struggling internally at his oversharing like you.

You sit dumbfounded, the silence that creeps between the two of you allowing the time to let Joel’s words settle in you and bloom across your body.

“So,” Joel leans forward, "if that’s how you feel ‘bout me, then I’m happily an enigma.”

He’s pinned you with his gaze, determined brown eyes stare straight into yours. You know he can see what his words are doing to you. You’re surprised the nerves radiating inside of you aren’t making an audible buzz.

Joel cuts the silent tension first. “Speaking of couches… do you want to come sit next to me?”

You nod. Your heart hammering in your chest as you rise and seize the opportunity. Joel watches you as your bare feet pad over the rug with a small smirk on his lips like he’s getting exactly what he wanted.

You take a seat next to Joel, your body sinking closer to his as you adjust.

“S’nice,” Joel brings his arm around you, resting his hand on your shoulder as you move closer to him. “You have a beautiful home, love how every surface has something nice to look at. It’s so warm and pretty, perfectly you. I like being here, s’like walking into a different world.”

Your body begins to burn as Joel’s fingers brush back and forth against your arm. You don’t nod, you don’t say anything, you just focus on controlling your breathing and your rapid heart beat.

“You okay like this sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah, sorry, just haven’t done this in a long time. I like it, it’s just a lot.”

“S’okay sweetheart, we can just sit here and enjoy each other if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

Joel pulls you even closer against him, your head rests against his chest, you haven’t been this close to someone in so long. It feels good, it feels right. Hearing him breathe, feeling the softness of his soft t-shirt against your cheek, smelling the scent of wood and coffee on him. It was only last week that he was practically a stranger, now he’s holding you in your living room.

You breathe out a contented sigh, Joel’s chest vibrates against your cheek as he lets out a low chuckle. This moment right here feels like a turning point for your life in Jackson.

You’ve welcomed Joel into your home, much like he did with you. You want him to stay here with you, you don’t want him to leave tonight.

You want to feel his arms embrace you again. You want to kiss him again. You want to be selfish tonight. You never allow yourself what you want, always sacrificing for others and the greater good. You want to put your needs first tonight… so you choose to be selfish.

“Joel,” a whisper leaves your lips.

“Mm?”

“When we kissed yesterday…”

“Uh huh.”

“What would have… happened if the water didn’t spill?” You crane your neck up to look at him, Joel looks down and locks eyes with a small smile on his face.

“Well, I would have kept kissing you, obviously.”

“For how long?”

“As long as you’d let me sweetheart.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Me too,” Joel’s hand comes up to rest under your chin tilting it up towards his lips, “do you want me to kiss you now?” His tongue drags across his lower lip, you copy the movement as you lean forward into his hold and kiss him.

You love being selfish. You love how pillowy his lips are against yours. You love how you can taste the coffee and whiskey on his tongue. You love how he groans into your mouth as you move to sit on his lap. You love how his hands grab your hips as you straddle him. You love how rough his jeans feel against your linen pants. You love how Joel begins peppering kisses from your mouth to your neck.

“You taste so sweet,” Joel utters against your skin, feeling the smile in his kiss as you let out a moan from his words. A hand comes up to feel the underside of your breast, his touch eliciting another loud moan as he cups it in his large palm. The fire for Joel that’s been smoldering inside of you has been set ablaze by his mouth.

You begin rocking your hips against him, gasping and moaning as you look for pressure where you need him the most. Your hand reaches between the two of you, rubbing against the bulge of his pants.

Joel pulls away, his hand leaves your chest. “Hold on, hold on sweetheart, I don’t want to go too fast. I want to take our time, okay?” His hand cups your cheek. “I know what you want, ‘n I want it too… but you’re too special to not savor.”

You hate that you agree, you wish you could throw caution to the wind and take what you want to take, but you also know you’ve never felt this way about someone before. You nod as Joel leans forward and rests his forehead against yours.

“I really like you sweetheart, and it’s only been a few days…”

“I know,” you kiss his lips one last time before extracting yourself from his lap and sitting next to him. “We can just sit here again if you’d like, or you can get going if you want.”

“I’d like to sit here with you,” he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you in closer, your head resting against his chest again. He feels so good, like you’ve never known comfort until you felt the broad expanse of his chest underneath your skin.

“Sorry I don’t have any music… tonight would be a perfect night to listen to something.”

“Don’t mind the silence.”

“Me neither.”

You shut your eyes after awhile, the sound of Joel’s steady breathing against you lulling you to sleep.

——

“Sweetheart,” Joel’s soft voice wakes you up, blinking your eyes open to soft blue denim.

Somehow during sleep you’ve migrated down to rest your head on Joel’s lap.

“Mmph, how long was I asleep for?” You look up at Joel’s tired eyes looking down at you.

“Dunno, but it’s dawn. I also fell asleep, just woke up,” Joel answers with a yawn.

“I’m sorry,” you move to sit up and yawn. “Guess I was either tired or you’re just really comfortable.

“S’okay, it was nice. Once I knew you were asleep I didn’t want to disturb you, you looked so peaceful.”

“Thanks,” you stand up and stretch your arms over your head, Joel’s eyes darting to the sliver of your exposed skin as your shirt rises.

“Should get going home,” a small hint of reluctance in Joel’s voice.

“I know,” you attempt to shield the tone of disappointment. You grab the hot sauce bottle sitting on your console table. “Don’t forget this.”

“Thanks sweetheart. I have long patrol this week. I’ll be gone Monday, should be back Friday evening.” Your stomach drops at the thought of not seeing Joel for that long. “Can I see you Saturday?”

“Of course, yeah. I’d like that.”

“I’ll stop by the library then, ’n we can talk,” Joel grips your chin and brings his lips forward to plant a kiss on your lips. “Good night sweetheart, this was really nice.”

“Good night.”

Joel opens your door and looks back at you with a smile and nod before leaving.

Your face lights up for nobody to see. You go to check on your cats and fall asleep in your much less comfortable bed compared to Joel’s lap.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Things are starting to heat up (got to change the rating from T to M! Building up to E! 😉) and I'm very excited where this story is heading. See you next Monday! I've never written fan fic until two months ago, so I really appreciate all of you who have commented/liked/reblogged, it's a very cool thing to experience. If you'd like to be added to the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @orcasoul

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #elks #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fanfic #joel tlou #joel miller fic

62 notes · View notes

phoenix-before-the-flame · 1 year

Text

Your headcanons my good comrades

Pantherlily does not like to be carried like the other exceeds. He's not a kid like the others plus he's got that soldier pride going on. The most he'll do is sit on someone's shoulder if he feels like it. (Plus his default mode for his whole life was being 6ft tall, so being picked up or treated like a cat is,,,,,,uncomfortable for him to say the least).

Everyone's always wary of getting their hands too close to Natsu's face during a guild brawl. He's unpredictable and they never know which days he's feeling like sinking his teeth into someone's arm.

Erza always has some sort of armour piece or weapon on her. Ehe could be wearing jeans and a t shirt but she's wearing gauntlets or paldron. Swimsuit but she's got a small hatchet on a belt with hatchet. Party dress but she's got chainmail on over it. It looks weird but the physical safety helps her feel more comfortable.

Levy loves books but she also dog ears em, or makes notes in em. Her choice favourites have coffee stains on em. Lucy loves her but she sleeps in fear when she has to lend Levy a book.

Aside from the usual mage jobs, Cana gets a lot of free liqour from breweries to sample and endorse their products which especially happened way more often after GMG. This does not stop her from running up tabs at the guild or other bars.

Laxus putting on the gaudiest animal print shirt known to god and man, knowing it'll piss off his team mates-' >:) '

Gajeel sparred with Erza once and only once where he reacted on instinct when she swung a sword at him and took a chomp out of it. She has yet to forgive him for it.

There's like, a gaggle of old ladies in Magnolia who've attached themselves to Gray for some reason. They're just inexplicably fond of him, group assigned grandson and all that. He visits em often despite not understanding why this is happening to him.

#fairy tail #fairy tail headcanon #ft pantherlily #natsu dragneel #erza scarlet #levy mcgarden #lucy heartfilia #cana alberona #laxus dreyar #gajeel redfox #gray fullbuster #ft natsu #ft erza #ft levy #ft lucy #ft cana #ft laxus #ft gajeel #ft gray

633 notes · View notes

mykneeshurt · 1 year

Note

hi!! happy new year!! 💗

I love ur writing, and I was thinking to drop this request;

so may request some hc’s of cod task force 141 (+ alejandro, könig, graves and rudy) :))

feel free to skip this if youre busy, just wondering, happy new year :)

Sorry this one took me some time, I got too in my head about it. It was so hard to not be bitchy to Graves lmfao, Soap is my favourite enjoy! SFW. Let me know if you want NSFW ones

Price 🥃

He supports Liverpool FC, no I won’t hear any different

His favourite non-alcoholic drink is ‘builders tea’

Glenfiddich 18 is his Whisky of choice

Favourite colour is khaki green

Is the father figure of the group, strong, reliable, approachable (everything my dad wasn’t lmfao, I still love him)

He wears a plain t-shirt pyjamas to bed, sleeps on his side, one arm under his head, absolutely snores

His favourite breed of dog is a Collie, or any working dog he can walk for miles for in the country side

He absolutely loves Bargain Hunt on TV

His favourite smell is fresh gingerbread

He’d make an excellent grandfather tbh

Soap 🧼

Despite being Scottish he supports Blackburn FC, an underdog (I refuse to comment on the Celtic vs Rangers, far too much history there. And I’m Welsh, it ent for me to say haah)

He absolutely loves winding the boys up about being English

His text tone is SCOTLAND FOREVVAAAA *aggressive bagpipes*

Soap 100% sleeps in the buff

His favourite dog would be a Labrador, nice active family friendly dog

He’s a chatterbox but a good listener when he needs to be, will often give some surprisingly good advice

He’s an iPhone wanker

Absolutely a mummy’s boy, would do anything for her - he’d love to pay off her mortgage for her

His favourite smell is the cheesy paws of his dog for real

He’s not a morning person, he loves a lie in when he can

Ghost 💀

Ghost supports Manchester City, he just gives me those vibes ok?

His favourite weather is rain/storms

When he’s home from a mission he’s a bath guy, he showers all the time on base, so when he’s home it’s hot ass bath with an audio book and his bourbon

He has two cats that his neighbour looks after when he’s away, two British blue shorthairs. Called Foxtrot and Whiskey

He also loves rabbits

He loves helping beginners at the gym

His favourite tv show is The Simpsons, something easy and colourful to watch to distract him from what he’s seen

He smells like Dior Suvage (anything musky and heavy)

He’s ambidextrous

He loves a cooked dinner, beef, roast potatoes, all the veg, stuffing and all the Yorkshire puddings

He’s got his tongue pierced, I’ve seen the fan art. You can’t tell me other wise.

Gaz 🇬🇧

He gives me Arsenal vibes, so he supports them

But also supports Chicago Bears in American Football

He’s gentle, reserved so he’d have a rat as a pet, highly intelligent

Fish and chips with curry sauce is his favourite meal, a proper British geeza

He smells fresh, think a bright spring day, fresh linen and cut grass

He loves the sunshine

He’s a keen gardener, grows his own herbs and vegetables

His house is spotless, minimalist, but has a huge book collection

He loves caramel lattes despite the banter from the boys, he has a sweet tooth

Loves meeting the boys down the pub on a Sunday for a carvery

Alejandro 🌹

He’s an excellent cook, his favourite hobby when not on a mission is trying out new recipes for Los Vaqueros

This man sleeps in silk sheets, tell me he doesn’t?

He’s fiercely loyal his country, he loves Mexico and is passionate about it through and through

He’s got a great sense of humour, enjoys making people laugh

He runs marathons for charity in his spare time

His favourite subject in school was history

If you’re sad this man gives the best hugs, he’ll make you a strong ass coffee and give one hell of a pep talk

His favourite smell is fresh cocoa beans, always stealing the nibs to eat

Him and Rudy have film nights with their families when they’re home

He’s 100% a girl dad, teaches her how to shoot with nerf guns in the garden

Rudy ❤️

He has a German Vizsla called Pollito, because her legs look like chicken drumsticks

He 100% has an android phone

He’s an armature photographer in his spare time, he loves nature

He and Alejandro have personalised ringtones for each other

His favourite food is Seafood paella

He owns a small farm, sells the produce to the local area, he loves animals

He once won a poetry competition

His favourite colour is orange

Sorry but he wears lynx Africa (I like it sue me)

He likes to game in his spare time, anything from farm simulator to RPGs

König 👑

He loves drawing, anything creative, he’ll draw/paint the Austrian countryside to de-stress

He grew up on a small farm in the Austrian mountains, he has a very close family

He doesn’t like large crowds, worried people stare at him because of his height, feels claustrophobic sometimes

He bites his nails when his hands aren’t busy or covered by gloves

He’s a cat guy 100%

He’s left handed, 100% a lefty but holds his gun right handed (its a struggle, I’m left handed)

He’d like a family one day, he’s got a lot of love to give

He smells like leather, sandalwood and vanilla

He loves eating raw cookie dough, vanilla and chocolate chip

He holds the record for the hardest punch in his home town

Graves 🇺🇸

His favourite holiday is July 4th, he does a huge fireworks display whenever he’s home

His favourite food is Gumbo

He smells like Paco Rabane Invictus

He’s got 3 Dobermans, whom he loves with all his heart. Ben, Jacob and Molly

He has a white picket fence - obviously

He doesn’t have a good relationship with his father, daddy forced him into the army to gain approval

He sleeps in red plaid pyjamas and has matching slippers

He’s fluent in French, he learnt it to pick up girls

He loves hiking in his spare time, with his 3 dogs

He runs support groups for veterans on a Thursday a local library

298 notes · View notes

jamdoughnutmagician · 8 months

Text

Beware Of The Dog.

I wrote this little blurb about Fuckboy!Werewolf!Eddie based on this text post by @neonghostlights because the thought would not leave my brain until I wrote something about it.

Word Count:770

Masterlist Eddie Munson Masterlist

When he thinks back to how he used to be, he can't help the slight chuckle that rumbled through him.

Every night, prowling the dark streets of Hawkins, seemingly a new girl every night, as he smooth-talked them into his bed only to watch them leave as the morning came.

Stephanie Monroe, Katie Haywood, Nicole Prescott, Lizzie Davenport, even Tiffany Simmons to name but a few. He remembers all the girls names, cringing at the memory that he'd promise to call them as he ushered them out of his trailer door, knowing full well that he would never follow through on that promise.

Everyone on his pack had already found their other half, the one person who they would be with for the rest of his life, and here he was cycling through nearly half the girls in Hawkins with nothing seeming to stick.

That was until he laid eyes on you.

All those other girls paled into insignificance to you. In his eyes you were perfect. You were the one girl that he wanted. He was convinced that you were the one for him. His other half. His missing piece. His perfect and pretty little mate.

He saw you through the window in that small and quaint cafe, sipping on your hot coffee as you flick through the pages of a book.

This would be easy. All he’d have to do was turn on that ol’ Munson charm, and you’d be falling at his feet.

Pushing his way through the door, the bell above him tinkling as he does, he walks up to the counter. He’d have to order something, it’d be weird to just walk in and start talking to someone without ordering anything.

“One black coffee, two sugars please” he smiles politely.

He waits for his order, and sure enough he hears his name called out.

“Order for Munson!”

As he collects his order he sees you whip your head around at the mention of his name. Your eyes meet his across the cafe.

This was it. The perfect opportunity to put the moves on you. Time to seize the moment.

“Hey! Y/n, right?” Eddie starts as he makes his way over to where you’re sat.

“Yup, that’s me.” you nod with a kind smile.

“Hey, I’m Edd-” He’s just about to start introducing himself but you stop him in his tracks before he can say anymore.

“I know just who you are, Eddie Munson.” you say, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Y-you do?” He stutters.

“Mhm..does the name Nicole Prescott sound familiar to you?” you ask him.

Silence fills the air uncomfortably. You take his wild-eyed stare and tight-lipped smile as your cue to keep going.

“See, Nicole is a very close friend of mine, and I remember her telling me all about this wild and crazy night she had with this guy who promised to call her the next day, but then nothing ever came of it.”

Uh-oh. Eddie starts to feel his heart beat quicker. He’s not used to things not going his way.

“That guy sounds like he sucks.” He replies, trying to keep his cool, but the flush rising on his cheeks isn’t helping his case.

“He does, doesn’t he? Nicole told me he was the most handsome man she’d ever met. Long curly brown hair, deep brown eyes that you could get lost in, and a few tattoos as well. Said he had a couple of bat tattoos trailing up his forearm.” you say nodding to where Eddie’s bat tattoos were on display proudly.

Fuck. Why did he have to wear a short-sleeve t-shirt?

“I know your games, Munson. You ditched my friend and now you're moving on to me." you smirk.

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes, unsure of what to even say at this point. You had him marked from the moment you laid eyes on him, and you were not going to bend to his will as easily as he had hoped.

“I’m not so easily impressed by your less-than-gentlemanly tactics, so if you want to impress me, drop the playboy attitude, okay?” you tell him with a quirk of a wry smile playing at your lips.

You finish up your coffee and close your book, and make your way out of the cafe, blowing him a kiss as you leave. Leaving Eddie more than a little embarrassed and ashamed of his actions.

He was going to do whatever it took to prove you wrong. To show you that he could, and would change. For you. Anything to make you see that he could change his ways.

@sunflowerdaydreamer @xxhellfiregirlxx

#Also that song came up in my playlist whilst I was out and I decided it was the perfect song to go along with this!#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #werewolf!eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #Spotify

79 notes · View notes

johnnydany · 1 year

Photo

Dogs Books And Coffee T-Shirt

Get yours here: https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirt/37789237-dogs-books-coffee-funny-dog-lover-coffee-lover-boo

0 notes

pnwvegan · 9 months

Text

“Netflix and Chill”

Sam Winchester x Female Reader Imagine/Fluff

Summery: Sam and Y/N decide to have a movie night in Sam’s room. What happens when feelings and tension rise?

Warnings: None really, just some good fluff 😁

“Hey!” Sam looked up as you entered the kitchen, staring intently at his laptop and drinking a cup of coffee. Typical Sam and his Sam-isms, getting to see and experience them daily was your favorite thing about getting to live in this bunker. You ended up here after working on a case together that ended with your hunting partner being killed in action and left you with no where to go, so the Winchesters took you in.

“Hey” he replied back,

“Where’s Dean?”

“Bar” he fixed his eyes back to his screen, no doubt looking for a case. You glanced at him longingly. Even though technically you said you would get out of their hair as soon as possible, getting to hang with Sam definitely has had its perks. Staring at that long lean body, perfectly tussled hair and deep puppy dog eyes, has actually left you with let’s just say..a deep crush.

Breaking your concentration on his face, he says, “so, what are you up to tonight?”

You honestly had no idea so you said,

“I’m actually not sure,what about you?” His lips peak a small smile, he replies, “ I’m going to fire up some Netflix in my room, actually if you want you can join me.” He runs his hand nervously through his long locks.

“I’d love that,” you smile at him and he looks relieved.

“So do you want to meet in my room at 7:00?” His eyes were so sincere you thought you would melt right there. Then he added,

“Don’t forget to wear your pjs”. You smirked at the thought of him without pjs.

You knocked on Sam’s door at 6:58, he opened the door with a smile. He was wearing black sweats and a black henley, the henley clinging outrageously to his pecks and biceps. You were sporting a black v-neck t-shirt and red and black plaid shorts. You meet his eyes to keep yours from wandering his body. He was the first to break the stare,

“You ready?” He led you into the room, it was cozy, warm and dimly lit by one lamp. Books sat on every surface and it smelled of cedar and linen. You noticed he had lit a candle and were flattered, the Netflix screen was waiting quietly. He sat on the bed and gestured for you to sit. You sat at the edge, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“You want any pillows or blankets?” He handed you one of his pillows and a blanket that he had folded on the side of his bed. You thanked him and then he press play on The Princess Bride.

You both watched in silence for a while, he then noticed how close to the edge you were and pulled your blanket closer to him. You felt the heat coming from him, then done possibly by mistake, he put his hand on your leg. You leaned on his shoulder and tried to hide your blushing cheeks. He must have noticed because he asked,

“Are you okay? Are you too warm?” You shook your head, but he wasn’t letting up. He lifted his hand and looked at you with concern, puppy dog eyes on full blast.

“What’s going on Y/N?” You sighed,

“Um I really like you and I don’t want to make you feel weird” his eyes blaring into you wasn’t helping and you felt your blush spreading all the way to your collarbones.

He was biting his lip,considering what to say next, now it was your turn to ask,

“What’s up?” He smiled a little and replied,

“I asked you to do this with me because I was hoping I would be able to hang out with you alone and I was actually worrying about the same thing.” Again doing his nervous tick of running his hand through his hair. You smiled at him and grabbed his hand, you put it back into your lap and said,

“I don’t feel weird”. He looked at you considerably,

“Dean says I flirt weird.” You raised an eyebrow at him,

“Well Dean is wrong, again, I don’t feel weird”.

He finally smiled back and put his other hand on your face. Your insides were burning.

“Is this okay?” He questioned, you nodded immediately, your voice stuck in your throat.

“How about this?” He pulled you into a kiss and the heat inside you exploded like confetti.

“Hell yes” you quickly quipped back, and pulled him back in. It’s safe to say, it was the best movie night ever.

#sam winchester #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x y/n #supernatural fluff #sam winchester angst #supernatural smut #supernatural imagine #supernatural #Winchester #fluff

131 notes · View notes

itstheimpossibledream · 2 years

Text

Trying

Pairing : OFC(you) x Henry Cavill

Warning: Smut, Rough I guess

Summary: Henry is frustrated that trying to have a baby has become his second job.

Just something I started working on let me know if you guys want me to continue or, want to buy me a coffee!🤪

“Are you mad?” He closes the front door following behind you.

“Fuck it ! Whatever. It’s fine.” You say angrily, making your way to the bathroom.

“So, it’s obviously not fine.” you hear him say through the door.

“Well what do you want me to say Hen?”

“I want you to say we can talk about it. We can figure something out. I don’t know…..not an automatic ‘fuck it!’ and running away! ”

You swiftly tear a piece of toilet paper and wipe.Washing your hands, and opening the door so you can be eye to eye.

“I am not the one running away, I am not the one who is suddenly tired of trying after we’ve invested tons of time, energy and money into it.” You say brushing past him in the doorway heading to your bedroom.

“I’m not tired of trying, I just- I-I want my wife back.”

“Why? �� You snarl, stepping out of your shoes and pulling your shirt over your head. He grabs the t-shirt you throw at him and continues to his point.

“Because I miss you. Because I’m actually not a fuck machine who can be ready at a moment’s notice. I don’t know….. Tons of reasons.”

“O so now there's tons of reasons for us to not have a baby?”you roll your eyes.

“No! There’s tons of reasons for us to not continue with the IVF, if we’re not going to be on the same page about it.” he says, undressing at the edge of the bed.

“There’s only one page Henry ! The page is we’re either pregnant or we’re not.”

“Can you just-please?” he asks, motioning for you to come sit on the bed next to him.

You run your hands through your hair, gingerly stepping closer to him. He reaches out for your hand and pulls you to the edge of the bed and into his lap.

“ I think that we’ll be great parents.” He says brushing your hair out of your face. “I think we’ll be loving and kind and everything that they’ll need.” he says leaning in to kiss you. You reluctantly kiss him back. “ But I think we can only do that if we stay true to ourselves.” he continues “If we make sure to remain a team.” he says lightly slapping your butt as you get off of him.

“I love you but I think you're wrong.” you say crossing the room

“How?” he follows you to the other side of the bed as you remove your necklace and rings.

“Because any man would be fucking dying to be in your position to fuck anytime ,anyday and here you are complaining. Shit a few weeks ago wasn’t that you saying how it was a perfect arrangement!”

“Baby because you’re perfect, this forced quick fuck thing where there’s only one place I can finish and you already lay there undressed waiting for me to come home from work is not what we do!” he tried to control his voice but, you could hear him losing his cool in his tone.

“And what do we do?”you turn around from the dresser, your eyes burning a hole in his skin.

“I don’t want my kid to be made while I’m dogging out his mother and calling her a whore. Is that to much to ask?!?”

“Are you joking?!” you scoff “Henry that…. that is what we do. I don't know what type of bullshit romance movie scripts you’ve been reading but, in real life that is how you make love to me.That’s how you’ve always made love to me.”

“Well maybe that should change” he lashes back.You look back at him in shock and he huffs while leaving the room. You remove your bra and underwear, changing into one of his t-shirts. Grabbing your phone and book before heading to the couch to torture him.

You sit across from him opening your book, and your legs so he can clearly see that you aren’t wearing any underwear. He notices but pretends not to. Momentarily sticking to his guns. You hum to yourself, widening your legs even more. He looks up at you, over the rim of his glasses the script in his hands crushing under the strength of his thick fingers. He clenches it tighter trying harder and harder to ignore your tiny whines. You look up at him pitifully and it entirely shatters his resolve.

“Come ere’ ” he says, grabbing you by the ankle. He pulls you into him in one motion, his shirt riding up over your hips. His hand finds its way to your core.

“Is this what you wanted? Huh?” he whispers into you. “This the attention you needed so bad?”

You hide your face behind your hands as he rubs more intently.

“Move your hands.” he commands. You moan in response to his touch but refuse to uncover your face. He enters you with a finger, slowly massaging you.

“I said move your fucking hands.” he commands again. This time a little more sternly than you had expected. Still too embarrassed of your own want, you don’t pull your hand down until he moves it for you.

#henry cavill #auhenrycavill #cavillry #the cavillry #henry cavill x you #henrycavill rp #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henrycavillxreader #geralt of rivia #henry cavill superman #henrycavillwitcher

1K notes · View notes

writtenonreceipts · 8 months

Text

Rowaelin Month Day Six: Forced Proximity @rowaelinscourt

link to masterlist here

She is a mess because I wrote her in one day between doing my real job and trying not to cry xoxo

Warnings: mild covid references/quarantine days, very poorly edited

level of concern (tell me we're alright)

The apartment was too small. Aelin hadn’t noticed it until now, but two rooms and a single bathroom with a kitchen that easily melted into the living room was hardly enough space for two people. Two people who hated each other.

Aelin threw herself down on the couch, gripping her coffee in one hand. She’d long ago mastered the art of equilibrium where any sort of caffeine was involved so she didn’t spill anything as she sprawled across the plush cushions. Groaning, she leaned her head back and tried, so very hard, not to lose her ever loving mind.

It was only week three of quarantine and she was going insane.

She missed going outside whenever she felt like it. She missed going shopping. She missed her friends. She missed people. Instead, she was trapped here with the one person she did not want to be.

“Do you always have to sound like a dying whale?” A very unamused voice called from the kitchen table, a grand ‘ol four steps away.

Aelin flashed a single finger over the top of the couch. She got a grunt of disapproval in return.

“It’s eight twenty-two, well outside of your precious quiet hours,” she informed her roommate. “I can do whatever I want.”

Another grunt.

Aelin shifted to peek over the couch to glare. “You sound like a dying walrus.”

And Rowan Whitethorn promptly choked on his cereal. Two days in a row—Aelin was on a winning streak.

When Aelin first moved to Doranelle three months ago, her plan was to have her own apartment, a dog, a perfect new job, and a social life. What she got was a crash landing with her nemesis, no dog, the worst job known to man, and quarantine.

She and Rowan had been at each other's throats since they met one fateful night at a bar. Rowan spilled beer on her, an accident, and promptly insulted her two minutes later after trying to hit on her.

As it turned out, he was friends with Aelin’s old roommates' boyfriends. She should have known he was the worst considering he and Lorcan Salvaterre got on.

The bar scene ended with a fight, more beer spillage (on purpose), and a promise of vengeance.

Unfortunately for Aelin, her prospective lease fell through and she would have been homeless if not for the extra room in Rowan’s apartment. And then covid struck and Aelin was trapped.

Hence, her beached whale position (and sounds) from the couch. Life was one cosmic joke after another.

“You don’t always have to make your presence known, y’know,” Rowan commented as he pretended, he hadn’t almost had multi-grain Wheaties shooting out of his nose.

“Of course I do,” Aelin argued, “how else can I annoy you before quiet hours begin?”

His green eyes flashed and he rose from his seat at the table, already dressed in a button up and slacks. For Zoom meetings. Like a lunatic. If he’d been wearing a tie she would have teased him for it. Of all things the man should still be in shorts and a t-shirt. At least the button up stretched in interesting ways over Rowan’s broad shoulders. He might have been the bane of her existence but he was nice to look at.

“Don’t you have a job?” he asked, putting his dishes in the sink. “Ah, I forgot, you don’t.”

“Freelance writing is a job,” Aelin said. She sat up straighter so she could better glare at him. “It’s not my fault things have slowed down.”

Indeed, Aelin’s literature degree had taken a hit given the state of the world right now. She’d hoped she would have a job at a major publishing company or magazine or something. Instead, she’d been rejected from job after job and was trying to write freelance articles to keep up on rent. It…wasn’t going well. Which had led her to content creating for Instagram. She read books and talked about them and it kept her somewhat sane. Until Rowan mocked her for it.

“Rent’s due on the fifth!” he called as he disappeared down the hall to his room to shut in for his work day to begin.

Aelin had no idea what he did, only that it involved not having a sense of humor. Something with marketing? But his degree was in history if Elide was right…

She shrugged and took a long sip of her coffee. She had less than twenty minutes before quiet hours started at eight-forty and ended at five thirty when the work day ended and she had every intention of making as much noise as possible.

…

Rowan knew he was an ass. He’d always been known as the asshole throughout high school, college, the steps in-between. Even his friends often thought he was worse than Lorcan. Lorcan of all people.

Granted, ever since Elide came into the picture, Lorcan had mellowed out and even smiled once a week.

Rowan found scowling to be more beneficial. Especially when it came to getting Sam Cortland to shut up in the daily staff meetings they had over Zoom.

His degree was in art history and appraising--a limited degree where all he’d wanted to do was work in a museum organizing exhibits. Not writing legal documents for rich men to take art from their rightful owners.

The irony was not lost on him that perhaps he shouldn’t give Aelin such a hard time about her job and the fact she wasn’t using her degree very much.

The only problem was he’d dug himself into a hole and now he had no idea how to get out.

Aelin, for all eccentricities, was smart and did work hard. She was doing everything possible to stay afloat--sarcasm included.

Their first meeting at the bar had only gone so miserable because Rowan didn’t know when to shut up and apparently had a unique skill of insulting beautiful women. What a time to learn that.

English? Isn’t that the easiest thing to study?

She should have slapped him and not just dumped beer in his lap.

Rowan leaned back in his seat as the project manager started talking over the new contract that would be drawn up between a client and their acquisitions. It continued on for too long and Rowan just wanted to get back to his own assignments. By the time late afternoon rolled around, he was ready to log off and be done for the day.

He’d always considered himself to be a homebody, but this was getting ridiculous. He wanted to be out doing things. But the trails were closed, his friends were spread out over the country, and there was the risk of a disastrous illness running amuck.

So he was trapped in an apartment with Aelin Galathynius. The place had always felt enormous until she’d moved in. But she had a way of filling every space she occupied. Other than the various bathroom accouterments she had there were the dozens of fleece blankets, the books, the personality. Even he had to admit she was different from anyone he’d met before.

Unfortunately, she was very good at holding grudges.

He’d tried apologizing for getting off on the wrong foot when she first moved in, but her mind was already made up. Then came the way she was loud, talkative, rambunctious. Quarantine was not meant for her. After one day he’d realized that she needed space and freedom and the ability to do whatever she wanted. The jury was still out on how he felt about that.

He was finally able to mute his other coworkers when a loud crash echoed from the kitchen. Rowan rolled his eyes. It was two, so of course Aelin was getting snacky. He’d clocked her eating habits and quickly learned she needed to eat at least eight times a day to be in a good mood. Seven of those times had to involve chocolate.

She had been doing better at keeping quiet while he was in his zoom meetings so Rowan tried to control his ire. Really, she hadn’t been a bad roommate. She’d tried to keep the peace between them and even offered to include him on DoorDash orders. All of her orders were from the local dessert shop and Rowan didn’t eat much sugar so that didn’t help matters.

Another crash from the kitchen followed by the patter of feet to the linen closet.

“Damndamndamndamn,” Aelin chanted as she went.

Rowan froze. She’d broken his sink again, hadn’t she? He glanced at his computer but no one was paying attention, all engaged in their own work. Besides, he could step away from a minute if he needed to.

Standing, Rowan slipped into the hall and down to the kitchen. He braced himself for anything and everything. Knowing Aelin there could be a dead body.

What he was completely unprepared for was the settling plume of flour and mess of various baking items scattered around the kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

Aelin turned from the counter, her blonde hair spilling out of a messy bun. Her t-shirt and shorts (that showed off her lean legs) were covered in a mix of flour and butter, her face smudged too. He knew he should stop staring. Really, he’d seen her first thing in the morning looking like the walking dead and in the middle of the night crying to Taylor Swift. And now, covered in flour, eyes wide with panic. He would admit it only to himself and deny it if anyone asked him--but she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“It’s cookie Friday,” Aelin said, she had a towel in one hand, spatula in the other. A bottle of vanilla was tipped over as she was trying to mop up the mess. “Sorry.”

“You hate cooking, or baking, or anything involving an oven,” Rowan reminded her.

“Which is why I’m only going to eat the dough raw,” Aelin said, voice growing quieter with each word. Her blue eyes were comically wide as she gestured around the kitchen. “Then the thing exploded and the other thing tipped over and it turned into a mess and I was trying to be quiet because you are a grumpy buzzard, even on Fridays, and I know you’re at work but I really needed cookies.”

Aelin continued to look at him with her large eyes as she offered a sympathetic shrug of her shoulders.

"Sorry?"

Rowan didn't know if he should laugh or be irritated or something else. But all he really could do was stare at her. It was such an Aelin thing for her to do that really, he couldn't be mad.

"You know raw cookie dough is bad for you right?" He asked.

"No, it literally feeds the soul," she set.

With a wet thwack, she dropped the towel in the sink and righted the vanilla bottle. Most of it had spilled out leaving a sickly-sweet scent cloying in the air. "And I don't care what scientists or other miserable things you read say."

Rowan rolled his eyes. He should have known better than to try and reason with her. "Alright fine. Eat your salmonella."

"I will, thank you," she said. A patch of flour still clung to her cheek giving her bravado a little less umph than he was sure she wanted. "And I'll clean up, no need to worry your poor old heart about that."

"I'm not old," he said. Thirty was a perfectly reasonable age.

"Yeah, yeah." She patted herself down, sending little plumes of flour all over the place. She tried righting her hair, but it seemed to be of no use—most of the tendrils had broken free and she was stuck with a curling mass in the nape of her neck. "Go back to work, I'm sure nothing will get done without you."

And Rowan in a bought of what had to be pure reckless abandonment shook his head. "Nah. I'm not that important."

Aelin raised a brow. "Really? Even with your real degree and real work you put into college."

Well. He deserved that.

"Yeah?"

Aelin eyed him skeptically before tossing another clean towel at him. "You get the floor I'll get the cabinets."

And then because the apartment had somehow shrunk in the last three months—they were continually in each other’s way. Rowan brushing her leg, Aelin grabbing his shoulder when she nearly fell over while reaching for the top cabinets, both going for the sink at the same time. It was chaos. And because Rowan didn't know how to sort out his own feelings, he found his skin heating at each touch, his heart race at each glance. And he knew, he knew he was a fool. But if the past three months had taught him anything—it was that he could be very wrong about a great deal of things.

When the kitchen was somewhat restored to order. Aelin sighed. "I guess that'll have to do. I'll dig out the real cleaning products in a minute, I have to meet with one of my editors. Hopefully one of my articles was accepted this time."

She said the last part flippantly, but Rowan could sense the tension rolling off of her. She wanted that job to go through, needed it.

"I'm sure it will," he said.

Aelin rolled her eyes. "You don't have to offer a pity compliment buzzard; I know it's not your style."

“It’s not--” Rowan cursed and looked away, running a hand through his hair anxiously. “We both know what I said back then wasn’t true. I know it must have taken work and dedication to get your degree.”

“Thanks. It did.” She was unapologetic with her bold words, just as he would expect her to be. “I won’t keep you. I promise I’ll have the rest of this cleaned up before bed.”

“It’s fine,” Rowan said.

Aelin grabbed the dirty towels to take to the small laundry alcove but Rowan stopped her.

“You’ve got flour,” he tried to explain that there was still a steak of flour on her cheek, but he was already reaching out, brushing it away with a quick swipe of his thumb.

Aelin froze, watching him as if she didn’t recognize him. Not that he could blame her, he was actually being nice. Her lips parted as if to say something, but Rowan’s phone gave a loud ping from where he’d left it in his room. He’d hooked his notifications onto a larger speaker setting so he wouldn’t miss anything during the day if he got up to leave his desk.

“Work calls, right?” Aelin joked with a small, half smile. And then she was gone down the hall.

Rowan cursed again, running a hand over his face.

“Get it together, Whitethorn,” he muttered, before he too returned to his room.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

tags are a joke rn. please consider reblogging?

love yall

#rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin x rowan #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #modern au #tog #throne of glass #fluff and fun

69 notes · View notes

envihellbender · 1 month

Note

TMPverse Gerry with an equally Different TMPverse Michael

Characters: Gerry Keay (he/they), Michael Shelley (they/them), GG (mentioned - she/her)

Source material: The Magnus Protocol

Tags: fluff with angst, Doorkeay, coffee shop date

—

Gerry’s eyes snapped open when his alarm beeped that morning. They immediately jumped out of bed and pulled on a pair of dog patterned pyjama bottoms over their purple boyshorts which they had slept in with their old Slayer t-shirt. He made sure to keep quiet as he patted past GG’s bedroom, he headed to the kitchen and made himself a glass of orange squash. He took their medication, did a quick stretch, and quickly made a bowl of Coco Pops. He wolfed down their breakfast, humming and pacing as they did. He put it in the bowl and then hurried to his bedroom as quietly as they could.

They grabbed a selection of clothes from their wardrobe - a green and blue tartan skirt, black leggings, a loose Mastodon t-shirt, and a hooded black cardigan that almost came down to the end of the skirt. The night before he painted his nails black with brightly coloured skull stickers on them. He showered as quickly as he could before changing, yet didn’t bother to dry his hair properly and instead just gave it a quick go over with a towel before putting his long, thick, black dyed hair into a messy bun. He brushed his teeth quickly, and they grabbed their backpack they’d packed the night before. He slipped on their customised Doc Martens - they were originally a standard black but he painted several blue dart frogs on his boots, Michael said they were so well done they looked professional. Gerry slipped out of the apartment, sighing in relief when he managed it ten minutes before 08:00 - the time when GG left her bedroom.

Gerry was happy living with GG, as they insisted regularly, and she wasn’t remotely controlling, he thought. It wasn’t that Gerry couldn’t leave the flat exactly - he was an adult after all. It was just that whenever Gerry wanted to go out GG suddenly thought of a job that needed doing. Most of the time she didn’t even ask, but Gerry wanted to help her. She was getting on in years as much as she hated to admit it, she needed his assistance. The problem was, it usually took up most of the day. That meant Gerry couldn't see his friends, Michael, go to a gig, or something else as he was too exhausted. They would simply have to spend the night painting and listening to music. However, there was an easy way around it that Gerry had established. GG had a strict schedule, and very specific rules regarding it. Between 23:00 and 08:00 no one, absolutely no one, was to enter GG’s room. She must not be disturbed, under any circumstances. If it was an emergency Gerry was to write a note and push it underneath the door. They thought it was a little strange, but he trusted GG. She wouldn’t do something if it wasn’t necessary.

Gerry felt on edge until they left the flat building, their hands tripped onto the arms of their backpack - a black bag covered in patches they had sewn on himself. Inside he carried a few books, a water bottle filled with juice, medication, and a sketchbook. He walked the familiar route to the coffee shop where they always waited for Michael, it was perfectly situated between where they both lived and whilst it was only twenty minutes away, Gerry was out of breath and overheating by the time they got there. They were early, they had an hour and a half before Michael would show up, they often tried to come earlier but they found it physically painful and exhausting to get out. Michael didn’t do mornings, often he struggled to stay awake never mind wake himself up. That meant it was possible Michael would forget, not out of malice but when your an old experiment who exists between universes and probability is who sees the fabric of the universe. Gerry ordered a matcha tea and slice of lemon drizzle cake. They picked a cosy nook with two arm chairs in the corner. They got comfortable and then picked up their old battered phone to text Michael “hey baby am here x”. To his surprise they responded almost instantly to say they were on there way. Gerry tried to tell himself that just because Michael was up early didn’t mean there was anything to worry about. He resisted the urge to bite at his painted nails. Instead he slipped a book from his bag and began reading “Legends and Lattes”. He managed to slip into the world fairly easily, enough for them not to notice the pattern the dead were tracing onto his neck.

They weren’t too engrossed that he didn’t look up at the entrance every time he heard the door open, his attention was entirely on his book and the door. A giddy smile spreading across his face as he recognised a tall, gangly person wearing a loose denim shirt dress, floral leggings, and a duffle coat. Michael’s blond curls were disheveled as usual, their eye were dreamy and half lidded. They looked around, smiling as they reached Gerry’s gaze. They ordered an ice tea and a chocolate muffin, and when they sat opposite Gerry, he leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, and before that they noticed the new markings on his neck. It was the most focused and grounded than they had been in a long while, they actually managed to watch without their eyes drifting away, they managed to focus, they didn’t even seem tired:.. That was definitely worrying.

#envi writes #the Magnus protocol #Gerry Keay #Michael Shelley #tmagp fanfic #doorkeay

19 notes · View notes