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#I’d knit him a sweater if I knew how
moonjxsung · 5 months
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Well okay! Since you let me be unhinged on a Monday. Can I request reader and hyunjin reading some romance book and then there’s a scene where the girl licks up the guys cum and reader wonders what it’s like and her and hyunjin start talking about it and she asks him if she can taste his cum too and he’s like rlly shy about it but he agrees. Basically she gives him the blowjob of his life so he can cum in her mouth and she can taste it for the first time. 😁🔥
Warning: smut below! mdni.
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“And there we basked in each other’s unpronounced love for each other, our minds rampant with thoughts of each other, only- how to pleasure each other, take care of each other and dedicate our lives to being two parts of one whole, rooted in pure, unadulterated love.”
Hyunjin smiles as you finish reading aloud the excerpt, leaning down to press a series of kisses to your temple as you lay comfortably in his lap. It’s your favorite way to spend the evenings lately, in your cozy home library, sprawled out across the velvety cushion of the armchair below dim lighting, a romance novel and a warm cup of coffee on hand.
“Read to me?” he’ll ask when he finishes his work for the day, exchanging his trench coat for a warm knit sweater and watching as you select from your shared stack of favorite romance novels.
Tonight’s selection is a new book he picked up for you earlier in the week, a romantic tragedy he knew you’d been eyeing since its release. And you’re both glad he did, the novel already working its way up to be one of your all-time favorites.
“How cute,” Hyunjin says in an almost teasing tone, bringing your hand up to his and pressing a chaste kiss to the back of your palm. “Continue.”
You chuckle lightly, flipping the page with your index finger and picking up where you left off.
“Some days I devoted myself entirely to pleasuring him, the lingerie I flaunted serving as an open invitation for him to make sweet love to me in our bed from morning till the first visible stars at nightfall.”
Hyunjin smiles sweetly, grazing his fingers along your wrist as you pause. “That sounds like us.”
“Other days he took care of me,” you continue, amused at the way Hyunjin’s always a little more perked up at mentions of sex in your novels. “Shoving his cock down my shallow throat and letting me hum around his length like a familiar tune he knew very well. His semen would trickle down my throat, and I’d swallow every last drop of him whole, like I was ill and his arousal the antidote.”
You turn to Hyunjin this time, expecting him to grin back at you, but to your surprise, his eyebrows are furrowed in heavy thought.
“What?” You question, a small smile tugging at your lips.
“She does it like that… every time? Isn’t that…” his voice trails off as he struggles to string together a sentence.
“What?” You query, audible confusion present in your voice. “Lots of people do that.”
“No they don’t,” Hyunjin says, his eyes flickering down at you, almost nervous to be talking about it. “Most people just spit. Or finish somewhere else.”
You chuckle a little, pulling back to turn your upper body toward him.
“There are tons of people who swallow, Hyune. It’s not a weird thing to want to do it.”
“I’m not saying it’s weird,” he says, “I just feel like most men don’t let it happen every time.”
“Of course they do,” You exclaim, genuinely perplexed with his thought process. “You wouldn’t want to finish in a mouth instead of, like, your hand or something?”
“I’m not saying my hand,” he clarifies, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red at the topic of conversation. “Maybe your chest, or something. But I don’t think a real gentleman would let it happen in a mouth every single time.”
“Maybe some people want to taste their boyfriend’s cum,” you say bluntly, and Hyunjin brings a hand up to his mouth as he gasps exaggeratedly.
“You can’t just say that,” he says, the tips of his ears a dark shade of crimson now.
“I just did,” you reply, swatting his chest lightly. “You’re my boyfriend, after all, and I’ve never even tasted you.”
Hyunjin grows painfully quiet all of a sudden, toying with a loose thread on the armchair below him.
“Sorry,” you say quickly, fearing you’ve offended him. “I didn’t mean that in a rude way, Hyune. I’m just messing with you.”
“Isn’t it… not something you’d want, though?” He asks.
Your expression shifts to that of concern, wondering why he’d think that when you’ve never even tried it.
“Why wouldn’t I?” You say sweetly, resting one hand over his. “You’re my boyfriend. There’s no shame in wanting to taste you.”
His eyes dart over your expression briefly, saying nothing as he thinks over your words. You can’t gauge his reaction, still stuck on his words and evident confusion.
“If it’s something you want to try, then… but what if I taste bad?”
You chuckle lightly at him, bringing a hand up and running it through his choppy blonde tresses in attempts to comfort him. “Don’t worry about that,” you say with a smile. “It’s about being in the moment and having some trust. If you worried about every little thing every time we got intimate, we would probably never have sex.”
His pupils dart back to yours after a moment, giving you a small nod as if to grant you permission.
“Then we can try it,” he says, toying with the rings on his fingers.
“Now?” You query, your eyes flickering down to his flannel pajama bottoms, realizing he’s already sporting a hardened bulge under his pants. “Oh Hyune,” you say, smiling as you lean in to kiss him. “I promise I’ll stop if you don’t like it, okay? Just relax.”
And without another moment to spare, you set the book upside down, bookmarking its page on the coffee table, crawling onto the patterned rug below you and moving strands of hair out from your face.
He sits up a little straighter in the armchair, parting his legs slightly and taking a deep breath. You’ve sucked him off plenty of times before, but he’s always done exactly that- finished on your breasts, or your face, or even saving his release until he could fuck it into your cunt. You’ve known for a while he’s not partial to finishing in your mouth, but you thought it to be a matter of preference, not shyness.
Your hands pat his knees once, and Hyunjin sits up a little to pull his pajama bottoms down until they’re pooled at his ankles, his boxers following suit shortly after. Once he’s unclothed, you understand quickly how fear may have contributed to the sudden arousal- he’s now harder than you’ve ever seen him before, his cock taking on a flushed red color and a bead of precum dribbling down from his tip already.
“Are you sure?” You ask him again, looking up at him with wide eyes. “We don’t have to try this.”
“No, I want to,” he replies, peering down to where you’re sitting. “I’m sure.”
And without another second to waste, your hand meets the base of his cock, grasping him firmly and giving him one gentle pump, a soft moan emitting from his parted lips as he shuts his eyes in pleasure. You stay like that for a few motions, pumping his cock gently between your slender fingers, before finally inching toward him and leaning in so you’re at eye-level with his cock.
He opens his eyes momentarily to look down at you, heartbeat quickening in his chest as you press a needy kiss to the tip of his cock. “Close your eyes,” you say to Hyunjin, taking note of the almost desperate expression on his face. “Just relax.”
And when he does, eyes fluttering shut again in pure bliss, your lips wrap themselves around his tip, a stream of saliva trickling down his shaft to his base. He moans instantly at the contact, hips adjusting below you as you take him up to the hilt, drool dribbling in messy strings down the corners of your lips onto his flesh. Both of his hands find their way to the armrest of the velvet chair below him, gripping desperately as you begin to move up and down his shaft in steady motions, humming around him like you’d just read in your romance novel. The gentle sounds of sloshing and humming fill the quiet library around you, the sounds quickly overtaken by Hyunjin’s needy whimpers as you work him. He reaches out a hand to caress the top of your scalp, giving you a gentle rub on your tresses as you pull back again for a breath of air.
“Good?” You say, gathering more saliva in your mouth.
“So good,” he breathes, his hand reattaching itself to the armrest and gripping with anticipation.
You giggle up at him, giving his cock a few more pumps before taking him in your mouth again, shoving him down your throat until your tongue swirls around his base. He’s so big inside of you, his girth pulsing inside of you, desperate for release. But his mind wanders to where it’s always lived- the fear that he tastes inadequate, that you’ll retreat the minute he begins to empty himself inside your mouth, or that you’ll conclude it’ll be the last time you ever volunteer to taste him.
As if reading his mind, you pull him out again, working a drooly trail of kisses up his shaft and rubbing his tip along your parted lips.
“You haven’t even finished,” you say, drunk off the sensation of his flesh grazing yours like this. “And you already taste so heavenly.”
You work the other side of his shaft now, trailing little kisses and nibbles up his veiny length, smiling when he lets out a series of loud moans at the sensation. And he does taste heavenly, the salty taste of his preemptive release kissing your taste buds so deliciously, a reminder that it’s you who gets him here, it’s you who takes his cock whole like this and encourages him to make a mess in your mouth.
He’s reminded of it, too, when you bury his cock to the hilt again in your mouth, gagging lightly when you feel his cock twitch inside of you.
“I’m close,” Hyunjin says, his hips arching up into your face and writhing in pleasure. “I’m really close. Are you sure you want me to-”
“Mhm,” you hum around his length, pulling back to tap the tip of his cock against your lips gently. “Let go, baby,” you urge, swirling your tongue around his base and taking him whole again. He moans again, gripping the armrest with force as he feels you begin to bob your head faster, up and down his slick length with ease.
“I’m cumming,” Hyunjin breathes, “Fuck, baby, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m gonna cum in your mouth.”
And you just smile with him still lodged in your throat, encouraging him to finish.
With one more swirl of your tongue around his base, Hyunjin finally lets himself go inside your mouth, shooting a generous load of his hot cum inside of you, bucking his hips up as you finish him off. His release lasts for longer than usual, it seems to you, as he lets spurts of cum shoot out in the back of your throat and coat your tongue liberally. Hyunjin’s legs buckle as he does, his mind going blank at the sensation of your tongue swirling around his sensitive cock to lick him clean of every last drop. It feels dirty, emptying himself in your mouth like this, but so freeing, extricating himself from the shame of his taste and just letting go where his cock sits. When you feel him begin to soften inside your mouth, you slide him out of you, pressing a little kiss to his base and wiping the corners of your lips with the pads of your fingers.
Hyunjin watches in fascination as you finish with a loud gulp, sticking out your tongue at him to reveal a clean mouth, completely void of his semen.
“Was it…” he begins to ask nervously, pulling on his clothes and sitting up to help clean your mouth.
“So good, Hyune,” you say to him, smiling as you catch your breath. “I love your taste. I love tasting you.”
He smiles, emitting a breathy chuckle and pulling you back up to sit in his lap.
“It was better than I thought,” he says, caressing your face tenderly with his hand.
“I’m glad,” you reply, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. “You don’t have to feel embarrassed of anything. Just trust me.”
He replies with a sleepy smile, leaning back to slouch in the armchair again and positioning you in his lap.
“Read to me?” He asks, a yawn escaping his lips as he speaks. And you reach for the book again, picking up right where you left off.
“And there we’d lay, comfortably in love, the world around us smiling down in mutual understanding.”
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thestorycomesalive · 5 months
Text
Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby
George Weasley x Reader
Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Summary: You had been suffering from nightmares for a while now. This was nothing new to you. But when you have a nightmare that wakes you up in tears, you find yourself instinctively in front of George's dorm, seeking his comfort.
AKA: George is a softie. Two idiots in love, oblivious pining. Fred and Lee will not stop teasing the two dummies.
Lyrics included from the song: Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby by Cigarettes After Sex
.....
You were not a stranger to nightmares. These terrifying dreams had haunted you since you were very little. But you mostly suffered through them alone. You never wanted to wake anyone else or concern them with your deepest fears and troubles. You guessed a part of you didn’t want to accept that you had these fears at all. So, one cold, autumn night, you found yourself sneaking up to the Astronomy Tower, hoping not to be seen, but daring to do so anyways. For another haunting dream had plagued your sleep just moments ago. These days, they seemed to be getting worse, and your first instinct tonight was to escape and get some fresh air.
As you walked through the entrance of the tower, you felt the breeze flow in through the open walls, chilling your skin and, ever so slightly, whipping your hair. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you approached the opening of the tower. The frigid wind woke you from your sleepiness and seemed to remind your body that you were here. That you were okay. You overlooked the black skyline and closed your eyes, breathing in the burning atmosphere. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that. It wasn’t until you heard the sound of the railing creak next to you that you awoke from your hypnotic state. Your eyes opened and you turned to look to where you had just heard the weight of the metal bar on your right, moments before. There stood a tall and sleepy George, adorned in a knitted sweater and sweatpants, arms crossed, as he leaned against the railing next to you. He looked out at the skyline. His expression mirrored the one you had sported before, but his eyes were open as he saw you turn to him in his peripheral vision.
“I honestly thought you might’ve been sleepwalking,” he chuckled as he stared at the darkness ahead of him.
“What are you doing here, Georgie?” you asked, puzzled.
“I could ask you the same thing, love,” he said with a small smile on his face. He turned his head to bring his eyes to meet yours.
You smiled back at him lightly. “I meant, more so, how did you know I’d be here?”
He dramatically placed his hand on his chest and faked shock and offense, his mouth wide. “Who said I knew? Maybe I just needed some fresh air too,” he tested, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Well then it seems great minds think alike,” you laughed at your best friend.
George quickly dropped his act, a mischievous grin on his face. “I’m only kidding. Fred and I borrowed the Marauder’s Map from Harry last night. I couldn’t sleep and gave it a look. I saw you wandering,” he said with a shy grin on his face.
“Bad dream?” you asked him, softly, your eyes slightly become distant at the memory of your own nightmare.
“Nah,” he said. “I had the coffee cake at dinner tonight. I ate so much of it, I could’ve run the entire quidditch field twenty times over,” he chuckled. He took in your slightly distant eyes as you laughed slightly at his response. “You?” he asked, concerned.
“Yeah. It was stupid. I just needed a change of scenery,” you sighed.
“I’m sorry,” he said gently as he wrapped his arm around your shivering form, pulling you into him. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
“It’s okay. It was nothing,” you lied. You leaned your head into George’s shoulder, your heart doing cartwheels at the unexpected contact from him. You, the twins, and Lee had been best friends since your first year, but it didn’t take long for your friendship with George to quickly blossom into more, in your heart. You had fallen for him completely, but you knew you would never utter a word about it out of fear of losing your best friend in the whole entire world.
Oblivious to you, George felt the same exact way. He loved everything about you. The way your hair bounced when you walked, the glisten in your eyes when you looked at him, the way you tilted your head slightly when you laughed, the sound of your voice. Everything. He had entirely fallen for you over the years. What started as a simple crush in his first year, never subsided. Rather it took his body and soul by storm. He felt warm whenever you were near. His heart skipped in his chest and his knees weakened. But how could he ever tell his best friend that he was completely and entirely in love with her? He thought that you would likely feel obligated to awkwardly thank him, never to talk to him again. And to him, a world in pining and longing with you in it, was better than one in relief without you there.
He felt his heart rate patter as you reciprocated his touch and rested your head on his shoulder.
“Aren’t you cold out here?” he asked quietly.
“A little bit,” you smiled up at him. “But I don’t mind it.”
George hesitated. He wanted to just take you completely into his arms and hold you through the cold, sharp wind. But he didn’t want to scare you away. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. He settled upon simply draping his other arm over you gently rubbing up and down your arm to generate some heat to you.
Your legs nearly gave out from the feeling of his touch. You and George had hugged many times before, but this time, he was so close to actually holding you. You wanted nothing more. You loved the feeling of George’s strong arms around you and his large hand running along your arm. You decided to be a little bit brave as you tucked into him a little bit more, wrapping your arms around his waist, your cheek in his sweater.
George’s arms froze in surprise as you curled yourself into him. He felt his cheeks flush red with warmth as he tried his best to bring himself back to reality. He moved his frigid arms to gently wrap around you, squeezing you to him. “Is… is that a little bit warmer?” he asked, hesitantly.
“Much. Thank you,” you smiled up at him as your own face flushed red with longing and bashfulness.
The two of you stayed that way for another half an hour or so, neither wanting to let go of the other. But when you let out a yawn, George looked down at you, a gentle smile on his face.
“We should probably get you to bed,” he rubbed your arm gently, in his embrace.
“You too,” you said, looking up at him with a sleepy smile.
The two of you walked back to the Common Room where George walked you up to the door of your dorm. George stood there awkwardly, his arms at his side as he bid you goodnight. Everything in him wanted to pull you into him again, to hug you. His arms felt so empty without you. Hell, he wanted so badly to kiss you. To feel your lips against his gently as you parted ways for the night, but his mind convinced him against it. What he didn’t expect was for you to take a step closer to him and to move up on your tiptoes. He didn’t expect you to wrap your arms around his neck and whisper in his ear. But you did.
“Goodnight, Georgie. Thank you for everything,” you said sweetly as you hugged the boy you loved so dearly. You wished you could ask him to stay. You wanted him to hold you all night, but you convinced yourself that you had to let him go. He wrapped his arms around you in return, his eyes wide in surprise as he spoke, “N…No problem, goodnight.”
And you parted ways.
******
In the coming days, neither George nor you brought up that night to anyone. Not to your friends, not to each other. To you, it was a beautiful memory that you would cherish forever. You didn’t want to share it with anyone else. You didn’t want it to belong to anyone but you. You wanted it all to yourself… and to him. You survived on small, happy moments like that with George. Moments where you allowed yourself to feel all of the love you had for the boy fully and completely. You knew you would never be able to confess your feelings to him, so this is how you would live. Off of every happy and soft moment you could possibly get with the gentle, ginger boy. And although you two never spoke of that wonderful, simple night, you always found your place next to him, and he always found his next to you.
Fred and Lee had constantly teased the two of you on the subject. Anytime you had to choose partners for a project in Potions, Fred would utter an “Oi, ten galleons I can tell you where George is headed as soon as Snape lets us up." This would earn him a glare and an eye roll from George and a snort from Lee. Another time, at the end of a long, random day, you were writing in the Common Room with your friends, and your legs found themselves draped over George’s. You sat horizontally on one side of the sofa, and he sat facing forward, his hand mindlessly holding your ankle in place, in his lap.
This wasn’t something unnormal for the two of you. George and you had a sort of magnetic force and you always seemed to be engaged in the smallest motions of physical touch in some way. You were never as close as you had been that night in the astronomy tower, but you were nearly always touching, none the less. The domestic picture of you and George instinctively sitting together on the couch, had Fred rolling on the floor laughing. Lee was trying to shush him, not wanting to embarrass either of you, however this seemed to be a fruitless prospect. The two boys couldn’t understand how oblivious you and George both were. It was obvious to your best friends that you liked each other, but no matter how many times they tried to convince each one of you, you never seemed to believe that it could be remotely possible. They could’ve given both of you Veritaserum and forced you to confess your love plain and simple, and both of you would probably still be too blind to see it.
“A little bit comfortable, are we there, Y/N?” Fred asked you, eyebrows wiggling in a teasing manner.
Your face flushed completely red, giving away your thoughts on the matter right away, to everyone but George.
“Don’t worry, I think our Georgie likes it,” Fred said, shooting a wink to George.
It was George’s turn to flush red with embarrassment. He took a pillow from next to him on the sofa and launched it at Fred’s face, causing him to roll back, holding his stomach as he laughed uncontrollably. Lee joined in on the chuckle and playfully slapped Fred’s arm.
“I think it’s sweet,” Lee said, laughing still.
George and you said nothing as you both found your hands to suddenly become increasingly interesting, trying to diffuse the situation in your minds.
*****
The next day, you had dropped your books all over the stairs as you were walking with Fred, Lee, and George from Transfiguration. A first year Hufflepuff had accidentally bumped into you as it was clear she was running late to her next class, and she wasn’t looking where she was going. As your books tumbled down the stairs, she apologetically called out to you.
“I’m so sorry!” She automatically turned down the stairs to head back down to help you retrieve the books she had thrown from your hand, disregarding her rush. But you gently smiled at her and stopped her in her tracks.
“It’s okay, darling. Go on, I’ve got it,” you said as gave her a reassuring wave onwards and a bright smile.
She thanked you quickly and nodded, as she returned to rushing up the stairs. As you turned back to look down at the books you had dropped, you saw that George was already bent down collecting them. He had a smile on his face as he had just watched the interaction you had had with the little Hufflepuff girl. You bent down too, collecting the last two books, as George placed the remainder of them into your hands.
“Here you go,” he said.
“Thanks, Georgie,” you smiled at him. His hand brushed against yours as he placed the books into your possession. He let them linger there, as you both stared at each other for a fraction of a moment.
“Good grief!” You were pulled out of your trance by Fred who had his arms crossed and eyebrow raised. Lee was next to him as they had turned to see what had kept you two from following them down the stairs. “Get a room, you two!” he shouted up at you as other students passed by.
You both immediately shot up from the ground, your faces heated, and your vision slightly blurred from embarrassment.
As the two of you headed down the stairs to catch up with Fred and Lee, Lee elbowed you playfully and whispered, “Your hero to the rescue.”
You lightly, and playfully slapped him on the shoulder with one of the smaller books in your arms as you exclaimed, “At least he helped me! You lot just stood there and watched.”
Lee laughed as he tried to dodge your whacks to his shoulder. “It’s more fun that way! Besides, it looked like George was eager to help. You didn’t need us.”
*****
The teasing never did stop and your feelings for George only grew and grew. You weren’t sure how it was possible to be so enamored with anyone. But here you were,  living proof that it was not only possible, but real.
After a particularly stressful day, you curled up in your bed and tried to think of pleasant thoughts to lull you to sleep. Most of the thoughts consisted of George. You eventually found yourself counting each individual thing you loved most about him, which could honestly take you forever. You figured it was like counting sheep. You weren’t intent on ever finishing your count, but rather falling asleep in the middle of it. Today had been a day of rarity. Everything seemed to go wrong. You failed your Potions exam, and you had gotten scolded by Professor McGonagall because you had slept in too late, missed breakfast and nearly missed the first half of her class. You were usually a pretty decent student, but your nightmares had been keeping you up at night, making it hard for you to focus and stay awake in class. Which, of course, now that you actually wanted to go to sleep, your body had to make it as difficult as possible for you to do.
You had drifted off into a deep sleep at some point, somewhere between recounting the sound of George’s laugh and the deep color of his eyes. But your sleep didn’t last long as you began tossing and turning, shooting up in a cold sweat. You were shaking and… crying? You reached up to touch your cheeks. You were definitely crying. Quiet sobs wracked from your body, as you covered your mouth, trying your best not to wake your dorm mates. You had to leave. You had to escape. But there was only one place you wanted to go. The Astronomy Tower hadn’t even crossed your mind this time.
In a daze, your feet subconsciously carried you down the stairs, up another set, and stopped in front of a large, brown, wooden door. Normally, your brain would’ve told you that it was wrong to enter people’s rooms uninvited. Your brain would’ve reminded you that you were crossing a boundary and that you were completely disregarding other peoples’ privacy. But tonight, there was only one thought playing over and over in your mind. You creaked the door open and quietly shut it behind you. It was like you were on autopilot as you made your way to the side of a bed, George’s beautiful, sleeping frame facing you.
Tears were still flowing down your face, but your sobs had stopped now that you could see him here. You gently, nervously brought your hand to his shoulder and shook it softly. “Georgie…” you squeaked out.
George’s eyes fluttered open in a confused daze. He took in his surroundings for a moment and when he saw you standing there, his heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through him. He thought for sure, he must be dreaming. There was no way that you were actually here, right in front of his bed, in the quiet of the night.
“Y/N/N…” he called out, brows furrowed in confusion. As the moonlight shone in from the window, he finally caught a glimpse of the tears that stained your face and the sadness in your eyes. He sat up immediately, his hand reaching for your cheek as he wiped your tears away.
“Oh, love. What’s wrong?” he murmured to you. “Another bad dream?” he asked, softly.
Concern filled his eyes. It split his heart into two seeing you this sad and frightened. You simply nodded your head in response, like a petrified doe in headlights.
“Do you wanna take a walk? We can go to the Astronomy Tower.” he offered gently, pushing his blankets off of him.
You didn’t want to be anywhere but right here, with him. You mustered up the courage, or rather cowardly gave in to the urge that was telling you to ask George a question that could quite possibly put your friendship on the line. You shook your head.
“Can…” you took a deep, unhelpful breath, “can I stay with you?” you looked up at him with defeated eyes, searching his for any sign that you had just crossed a line.
His eyes went wide. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe that you were here, and he really couldn’t believe what you were asking him. He nodded his head quickly.
“Of course,” he whispered hurriedly. Without hesitation, he moved over to make room in his bed for you, lifting the covers as an invitation for you.
You sighed out in relief and disbelief. He had actually said yes. You hadn’t ruined anything. You gently laid yourself down as George sat there awkwardly next to you, afraid to touch you as if the act would send you running. He didn’t want to do anything to scare you off or make you feel like you had to leave him. But he wanted to move. He wanted to hold you, to run his hands through your hair and tell you that everything would be okay. That he would keep you safe.
But you couldn’t hold back. You had no sense of logic tonight. You only knew that you need to see George, to feel him. You needed to hear his heartbeat and know that he was there. You moved your head to rest on his chest, curling your legs closer to your stomach. You could feel him tense up and you hoped that you didn’t make him uncomfortable. Your own body tensed when you felt his apprehension.
George was feeling an immense number of emotions. He was in complete shock at the close proximity you had placed yourself into him, but he also felt his entire body melt at the sensation. Now was his chance. He could finally give into all of the urges he had felt pile up inside him just moments ago. Well, at least a select few of them. He allowed his arm to curl underneath you, pushing you closer to him, bringing his other arm around you, over your side, completely enveloping you in his embrace.
“It’s okay, I’m right here,” he whispered as he held you in his strong arms.
You had been holding your breath, waiting to see George’s reaction to your embrace. When he didn’t respond right away, you felt your heart drop and your eyes begin to water once more, but when he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him, you breathed out and snuggled in closer to him, as he whispered to you. You listened carefully to the pattern of his heartbeat, as if it was your lifeline keeping you tied to reality. He felt you sigh into him and whispered to you once more.
“Nothing’s going to hurt you. As long as you’re with me you’ll be just fine.”
And you truly believed that. As long as George was here, you would always be okay. Which is why losing him felt like the most frightening thing in the world to you.
“Thank you, Georgie,” you whispered, as you felt yourself creeping into a deep sleep, listening to his heartbeat, feeling your lifeline in the arms of the man that you loved so dearly.
He tossed the idea of kissing the top of your head around in his mind. It was a big risk and normally he would turn the thought away, but tonight was a night full of new progressions and big chances. So, he did it. He gently kissed the top of your head and waited with bated breath to see how you would react.
Your mouth turned up into a gentle smile that you pressed into his chest. You took one of your legs and curled it around his, entangling the two of you together. He couldn’t hide the huge smile that grew on his face and the rapid increase of his heartbeat that you had been listening intently to. He didn’t sleep much that night, going in and out, in the awe of having you curled into him. He wanted to soak up every minute that you were entangled with him, in his arms.
******
When the morning arrived, George had finally fallen asleep, arms still wrapped around your body. He awoke quickly to a loud shout from Fred.
“BLOODY HELL!” Fred shouted as his face was mere inches away from George’s own.
George startled awake, nearly jolting from the image of his brother’s shocked face so close to his.
“George, I think you have a visitor!” Lee said from across the room, grinning widely at the scene before him.
“Your ‘best friend’ is sleeping in your bed, ole’ Georgie!” Fred shouted at him, rolling his eyes sarcastically at his own use of the term best friend, taunting George who had always insisted your relationship was platonic. “Better yet! She’s laying on top of you! Do you treat all of your friends like that? Because I assure you, Lee and I want no part of that!” Fred teased George loudly, still in shock from the scene in front of him. He was nearly bouncing up and down with excitement at the prospect of his brother and his best friend finally owning up to their feelings for each other. George quickly looked down at you, hoping Fred hadn’t awoken you. But you had been so tired from your nights of missed sleep, that you were still as a rock, breathing shallow as you continued into your unconsciousness.
“Will. You. Quit. It?!” George whispered furiously as he launched the pillow next to him straight into Fred’s face.
Fred rolled back off of his bed as the pillow met his face, laughing maniacally as he did so.
“It’s not what it looks like,” he whispered stubbornly. “She had a bad dream.”
“And so she had to come find her sweet, heroic Georgie to comfort her?” Fred taunted as he crossed his arms in front of himself.
“Come on, George. Why won’t you accept that she likes you too?” Lee asked George, supportively.
“Aren’t you two late for breakfast?” George shot back.
“Oooo, I see. Georgie wants alone time with his lady,” Fred teased as he gave George a big wink.
“Come on, Fred. Let her sleep. We’ll meet you two down there,” laughed Lee playfully.
George nodded and Lee and Fred began to exit the dorm room. However, Fred purposefully slammed the door shut on the way out trying to wake you , making George glare sharply at the other side of the door. George could hear Fred’s evil laugh fade as he raced down the stairs. Fred’s plot had worked. The jolt of the door jostled you awake. Your eyes shot open as you took in your surroundings for a moment. You lifted your head, your face flushing red as the memories of the night before came rushing back to you. You sat up and turned to George. He smiled at you.
“George…I’m so sorry,” you started. “I shouldn’t have let myself in last night.”
George felt his heart drop. Did you regret coming to see him? Staying with him?
“Oh,” George said. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I really don’t mind,” he tested.
You smiled, a bit relieved. “Thank you for everything. You don’t know how much I needed that.” You weighed your words carefully.
George felt his heart lift back up, at your words. Hope filled his chest. “Of course, love. I will always be here for you. Anytime you need me.”
Your smile burned brighter. Did he really mean that? Anytime? If you could have it your way, you would always be curled into the tall boy. And although you didn’t know it, he wished for exactly the same thing.
“Thank you, Georgie. You know, I’m always here for you too,” you said softly as you placed your hand gently on top of his.
He smiled at you in pure adoration. “Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked, his brows furrowing as his eyes searched yours.
You realized he was referring to your nightmare that you had encountered the night before. You had previously turned down the opportunity to talk about your nightmares to him before, so he was surprised when you released a sigh and spoke up. You felt he deserved an explanation.
“It was the worst dream I think I’ve ever had. It felt so real… so terrifying.” Your eyes became distant as you recalled your dream that had frightened you to your deepest core.
“What was it?” he whispered, as he brushed his hand against your cheek in an attempt to comfort you.
You leaned into his touch. “It was you, Georgie. I dreamt I lost you. It was like my whole world fell apart. That’s why…” you started and sighed, “I had to know you were okay. That you were here.”
He felt his chest twist and his brows furrow as his he began to open his mouth to speak, but stopped, speechless. You had dreamt about him. Your most terrifying dream was losing him. He knew just how much you mattered to him, but was it possible he meant just as much to you? “I’m here,” he said. “I will always be here for you. Nothing could ever keep me from you, Y/N.”
You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your cheek into his chest as you hugged him. You then pulled away and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“Thank you, Georgie,” you simply murmured.
His face turned bright red in shock and love. Your own face flushed at the realization of what you had just done. It had come so naturally, in the moment, that you hadn’t even thought twice about it. You cleared your throat gently, as a smile creeped up onto George’s face.
“I should apologize to Fred and Lee for crashing their room without asking,” you laughed, embarrassed.
“It’s my room too,” he said. “And in my opinion, you are perfectly welcome whenever you want.”
The two of you decided that even though you were significantly late to breakfast, you would still make your way to the Great Hall. You had run off to your dorm to change into your clothes for the day and planned to meet up with George near the Portrait of the Common Room. Eventually, when you came down the stairs and found George waiting for you, you gave him a small smile as you skipped to his side. He watched you walk to his side with a look of awe on his face. You looked so beautiful, as always.
You made your way to the Great Hall, the two of you mentally preparing for Fred’s teasing. But, Merlin, was it worth it. You had planned to apologize to Fred and Lee for crashing in their dorm, but as you and George walked side by side into the Great Hall, the wide, goofy grins on their faces when they made eye contact with you, told you they would take your apology just fine. It also told you that you were in for a rough day of pestering and flustered faces. Hell, the way they were looking at you two this time, this one would probably last weeks.
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gigicreates562 · 7 months
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Wait, I Love You- Fred Weasley
Y/n decided that she’s been hopelessly in love with her flatmate for too long. She decides she needs to start moving on, but will Fred confess his feelings before it’s too late? (Angst with a happy ending)
(Roughly inspired by that scene in New Girl)
TW: None
Word Count: 1585
—-----------------
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ginny asked, taping up the last of Y/n’s belongings in a box.
“Yeah, Gin- Trust me if I thought I had another option I’d take it, but I can’t waste my life pining after someone who doesn’t see me that way.” She answered with a heavy heart.
Y/n took a moment to look around her room one last time. She really would miss this flat, and the boys in it, but it was time for her to let go of her silly infatuation with Fred. She needed distance. She needed a clean break. So she shook off the heavy feeling in her chest and packed up another box.
“Yeah, but moving out without him knowing? Seems a bit harsh,” Ron piped in from the doorway.
It does, doesn’t it? Ugh No! Stop that! She battled her doubts away. A part of her wanted to say goodbye, to see him one last time, but she knew she couldn’t take it. She was strong, but she could never escape the look he would have in his heartbroken eyes. She had always had a soft spot for his eyes.
“I know, but I think saying goodbye would just be harder. George knows. He will let him down easy I’m sure,” She replied, trying not to dwell on the thought of Fred too long, “You guys can start heading over, I’ll meet you in a moment.”
She barely registered the sound of their departure. Privately turning away to let a tear slip down her cheek, she pulled the last item from her closet. Fred’s old knitted sweater. It didn’t fit him anymore, so he had passed it on to her, but it felt wrong to take. Clean Break, she thought as she gingerly folded the garment and placed it on the floor of her now barren room.
Carefully, she withdrew a letter from her jacket pocket and pressed it to her lips. This had to be the end. You can do this. She tried to convince herself. Tears fell freely down her face as she placed the letter on the sweater with shaky hands.
Bravely, she wiped away her tears and stood tall. With a deep breath and a loud crack, she was whisked away from the comfort of the small flat.
“Did Y/n seem weird to you this morning?” Fred asked, anxiously bouncing his leg.
“Fred, maybe focus on the pitch we’re about to do?” His twin sighed, turning the page of the magazine in his hand casually.
“Yeah, yeah. But I’m just worried I said something, you know?” He continued, “Normally she’s so bright in the mornings, it actually makes me want to get up early, but recently it seems like something’s been weighing on her.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine Fred,” George insisted, still trying to read his article.
“I know she’ll be fine. She’s one of the strongest women I know- Don’t tell Mum I said that -It’s just, I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to her. I don’t know how I’d go on.”
“Fred. Leave it.”
“I��m just meaning-”
“Fred.”
“I’m just saying I’m worried I-”
“Fred-” George sighed, begrudgingly setting down his reading, “Listen to me when I say this. I’m about to ask you a question, and if the answer is no then we can forget I ever asked, but if it’s yes, you have to be honest and tell me. Do you understand?”
“Well Godric George, for all that build up I thought it would be a harder question than ‘Do you understand’” Fred laughed proudly.
“Fred, are you in love with Y/n?”
Fred’s face dropped. He stared at his twin’s unflinching face blankly.
“I- well-,” He stuttered, his forehead creasing, “I’ve been trying to work up the courage to tell her, but I just didn’t know if I should. I didn’t want things to get complicated.”
“Bloody Hell Fred!” He scolded, whacking his twin with the magazine, “You need to go and tell her right now!”
“What? But what about the pitch?”
“Fred, Y/n is currently at the flat packing up her things to move out. You need to go and tell her right now before you lose her for good.”
“Y/n is leaving?”
“Yes, you twat! So go tell her you love her or you’ll regret it forever. I’ll handle the pitch, just go,” George shook his head at his twin, opening his magazine back up.
“Do I look alright?” Fred teased.
George raised up the magazine to deliver a smack again, but Fred was already gone.
Shortly after, Fred found himself standing nervously outside of his own flat. What was he supposed to say to her? “Uh hi, please don’t move away because I’m actually madly in love with you and have been for years?” Hardly a romantic way to deliver the news.
Regardless, time was of the essence. Quickly shaking off the nerves, he opened the door.
“Y/n?” Fred’s words echoed into the quiet flat.
Silence.
“Y/n?” He called again, making his way to her room, “I need to talk to y-”
Her room was completely deserted. All the colorful decorations that once resided there were long gone, leaving only a tattered green sweater folded up in the middle of the lifeless room.
Fred’s stomach dropped. Suddenly feeling sick, his unsteady feet carried him to kneel down in front of the discarded garment. My old sweater, he thought. His fingers ghosted across the itchy fabric. He remembered fondly when he gave it to her back in his fourth year. She had found it in a drawer one day after looking for something to keep her warm and Fred had been so overwhelmed at the sight of her in it that he gave it to her right away. She wore it nearly every day that winter, but what should’ve been a good memory now sent a chill down his spine. Gingerly, he picked it up.
A small white envelope fluttered to the ground. Shakily withdrawing the letter from within, he read.
Dear Freddie,
I’m sorry I had to leave this way. The blunt truth is, I’ve been hiding feelings for you for quite some time. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t keep torturing myself. I need to move on, Fred. I can’t waste my life romanticizing our friendship. Thank you for all the time we spent together. I hope you can understand.
Love always, Y/n.
Fred felt his heart shatter from inside him. The world around him was crumbling. He hadn’t realized he’d started to cry until a lonely tear hit the parchment in his hands. How could he let this happen? How could he have been so blind? He let the letter escape his grip as his knees buckled to the ground.
“Fred?” A meek voice whispered from the doorway.
He whipped his head around, surprised to see the source of his tears standing in the doorway.
“I- I thought you'd still be at the meeting,” She continued, “I forgot to leave my key.” She shyly jingled the key in her hand, not quite sure what else to say.
Fred cautiously stood and crossed over to the doorway.
“Have you been crying?” She said, noticing his state.
“Look Fred, I’m sorry,” She began, tears starting to build up in her eyes as well, “I just needed a fresh start. I’m sorry that I’ve hurt your feelings, but I just can’t keep pining-”
“I have been madly in love with you since the moment we met,” Fred interrupted softly.
She stopped, her head felt like it was spinning.
“You love me?” She questioned.
“How could I not?” he laughed in disbelief.
They stared at each other again. Awkwardness overtook the air as they stood frozen in the empty room. He stared at her. She stared at him.
“Holy shit.” She breathed out, bursting into laughter. Fred joined her, chuckling at the irony of the whole situation.
The tension quickly evaporated from the room. The pair immediately fell back into their usual comfortability.
After a while, the laughter faded. She admired his smile, relieved that this wouldn’t be the last time she would see it anymore.
Hesitantly, Fred’s eyes wandered down to her lips. A new kind of tension began to flood the air. She looked at him intently, not letting go of her breath.
“Can I kiss you?” He whispered.
“Oh Merlin yes.”
His lips were like fire on hers. Constantly moving, burning her tongue. His brow furrowed as he pulled her head closer. They moved in tandem, chasing one another back and forth with their lips. It felt like she was having her first kiss all over again, butterflies bouncing around like crazy in her stomach. Eventually, she pulled back, gasping for air.
His hand slowly lowered from her cheek to her waist, savoring the feeling of her skin on the way down.
She stared into his honey-brown eyes, watching intently as they swirled with emotion.
“Would you mind if I moved back in?” she joked, smiling up at him.
“Ah well, this room is unfortunately taken,” He shrugged, “But if you would be willing to share a room with me, we could probably work something out.”
Fred smirked down at her with pride as Y/n shook her head at his teasing. 
"I think that can be arranged," she laughed, bringing his lips back down to hers once more. 
Their future would be a rollercoaster most certainly, but she wanted nothing less. 
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jungle-angel · 1 year
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Close Knit (Bob Floyd x Reader)
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Summary: Bob has a secret hobby he learned from his Meemaw, but only you and the Daggers will ever know about it
Tagging: @nobody7102 @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts @lt-bradshaw​ 
You and Bob were more than happy to have Auggie home already despite him still being so tiny and free from his incubator in the NICU, but there were still things that made you horrifically nervous. For one thing, Tank was always lurking and sniffing near the wooden swing cradle in your shared bedroom. The slightest cry from Auggie and the big Rottweiler would wake right up, whimpering and whining, only to have you or Bob come in to see what was wrong. 
But tonight, you and Bob were all too happy to have Auggie snoring quietly in his crib, Tank laying protectively on the carpet right under the crib. Yet when you entered the room, you were a little bemused at the sight of Bob sitting cross legged on your bed with something in his hands. 
“Bob?” 
Bob looked right up at you, his cornflower-blue eyes looking as wide as a pair of china dinner plates. “Sorry babes,” he said. “I was concentrating really hard. You need something?” 
“I was looking for my knitting needles but I guess you beat me to the punch,” you chuckled. 
Bob smiled and blushed a little bit. “I couldn’t help myself (y/n),” he admitted. 
You looked at his work that he had just finished, a pair of tiny little blue and green socks for your little boy that would fit his feet perfectly. They reminded you of the socks that you would make for the dolls belonging to Javy and Mickey’s daughters and made from the softest yarn in your basket. 
“How’d you learn how to do that?” you asked him. “Never thought a big, tough WSO like yourself would know something like this.” 
“I learned from Meemaw and when I was in school,” Bob told you. “When I was little, I used to watch Meemaw knit all the time. Momma said she used to make all my baby clothes and all my sweaters when I got bigger. When I went to Ocean Bay, they taught us how to knit and crochet for our handwork lessons.” 
You watched with great interest as Bob yarned off his work perfectly, leaving no noticeable traces of the needles or loose string. You practically melted when you held the little socks in your hand, knowing they would keep Auggie’s little feet warm.
“Oh Bob these are perfect,” you cooed. 
Bob took both your hands in his, kissing both of them and nuzzling them with the baby soft skin of his cheeks. “May I?” he asked. 
“I’d be insulted if you didn’t,” you chuckled. 
You and Bob both made your way over to the crib where Auggie was drifting in and out of sleep, his tiny little fingers curled around the hem of his blue Peter Rabbit blankie as he lay safe and warm in his little blue pjs. Auggie sucked away on his little pacifier the hospital nurse had given him, hardly making a noise as Bob carefully slipped the little socks onto his feet. 
“Go back to sleep my little love bug,” Bob whispered, Auggie’s little eyes half lidded and weighing heavy with sleep. “You’ll be nice and warm tonight.” 
Bob tucked Auggie right back in and before either of you knew it, your son was fast asleep, his little heart monitor beeping steadily from its place on the crib-post and the tip of Bob’s big finger brushing gently against Auggie’s little nose and his soft little cheeks. A quiet little coo finally put you both at ease, knowing he would be fast asleep for a few hours, but until then, you and Bob kept careful vigil over your son until you yourselves, could stay awake no longer. 
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callsign-phoenix · 3 months
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I wrote this as a part of my 12 days of ficmas, I hope you like it!
It is a young!Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x gn!reader imagine.
Thank you @famfan-1034 for helping with the plot!
The prompt is Matching Christmas sweaters.
Warnings: this is only proofread by me, also you can just knit in this one
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You and Tom were in an incredibly young relationship.
You had just gotten together two weeks before Christmas.
Tom was fun, kind and charismatic, and you loved spending time together.
While he decided to spend Christmas Day with his family he asked if you wanted to spend the 26th with him.
You were so excited and really liked Tom, which was why you maybe went a little overboard with his present.
You really enjoyed knitting so you had made your dream Christmas sweater, spending days on the design and then just about two weeks of vehement knitting to finish it.
When Tom had seen it he had commented on it, telling you how much he liked it.
It made you ecstatic, and when he asked you to spend a Christmas holiday with him you knew just what to get him.
You spent hours each day working away on your present, which you hoped he’d love as much as you did.
Work was busy and you did your very best, sometimes even knitting at night to make progress.
In the end you had a beautiful gift, one that was identical to the sweater he had admired.
When the 26th came around you drove to his place, a beautifully packaged box in the shotgun seat of your car.
When Tom opened the door he was beaming brightly, enveloping you into a hug and pressing a welcoming kiss to your lips.
“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, and you replied similarly.
You settled down on his couch and moved to face each other, broad grins on your faces.
You received your present first and were so excited to hand yours over.
Tom handled his present carefully, putting it on his lap to gently pull the tape off.
The moment the paper fell to reveal your work your nerves grew, and you found a curious expression on his face.
Your heart was pounding below your self made sweater, as you watched his face nervously.
He turned his head to look at you, a wide smile growing on his lips.
He was silent for a few seconds, which was why you started speaking.
“Is it boring? Your grandma could have made it, I know. I just… you said you loved it and I really wanted you to love what I got you. So I made this for you? It’s tacky, I know, and it’s very straightforward. But I felt like maybe you’d like it?” You started rambling, until Tom set a hand on your own.
“Baby, I love it,” he said softly, his voice much gentler than usual.
You were confused by his very touched reaction as he lay his hand on the material gently, his thumb caressing it slightly.
“I… no one’s ever made anything for me before,” he added, and a small hopeful smile started to tug on your lips.
“I’d wear that sweater every day of my life if I could,” he said, and you laughed, expecting it to be a joke.
Tom looked at you as if it was the most serious thing he had ever said, and you felt heat rise in your chest and cheeks.
“Thank you, baby. It’s the best present I ever got,” he added, and the heat rose in your cheeks when he leaned in to kiss you.
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tagging: @starkleila @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @letsfvckingdance @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @imjess-themess @littlebadariell @angstyjellybean @marchingicenotes7 @midget713 @supernaturaldawning @gspenc @adorephina @gigisimsonmars @bespinnn @malindacath @aerangi @kassieesworld @kwanimations @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @mavericksicybabe @kendra-rose @desert-fern @mavrellover91 @allivingstone01 @rhettabbotts @withakindheartx @trikigirl271 @cherrycola27 @bonitanightmxres @ratcatcher2world @glowingtree @wingmanvenus
(please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist, or use this link)
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Note
Woohooooo!!!! Yay! My request, if it please her ladyship:
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For my sweet, sweet @freyaswolf who supplied this lovely prompt using ALL THREE LISTS and making me put my thinking cap on to figure out how to give her what she wanted.
Hope you enjoy, babe!
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February 2029
Your head was killing you. A faint hint of a headache had started tapping you right between the eyes at around noon and you’d gone as far as to think, I should take something for this before it gets worse.
But then your attention had been pulled in three different directions and that idea had been swiftly forgotten in the chaos of the afternoon.
And now it was almost six, you couldn’t look at the stage too long without wanting to vomit from the glare of the work lights, and your bickering crew was not making anything any easier.
“It’s a fucking chaise,” you heard yourself bark as you stared down at your notes. “Not a national monument.” You lifted your head to address the two men who had been moving the same piece of furniture back and forth across the stage for the last forty-five minutes. “Spike it and let’s be done.”
Stephen put his hands on his hips. “Okay, but don’t you think—”
“I think if we don’t stop talking about this fucking chair, it’s not going to go anywhere because I’m going to set it on fire—and possibly myself along with it,” you snapped before pointing to the stage floor. “You don’t need to like it; you just need to spike it.”
On stage, Taylor threw back his head and laughed. “Oh man, I want that cross-stitched on a pillow for backstage.”
Your phone buzzed in your back pocket while they did as you asked. You unlocked your screen to find a text from Joe. Question: Are you going to be home for dinner? He had sent it a minute ago. While your thumbs hovered over your screen to respond, another text appeared. Sub Question: if yes, what do you feel like?
You sighed around the pounding in your skull. Yes, you wrote back. I’m leaving momentarily. You knew he’d either make or call for whatever you said you wanted to eat. But the thought of pushing one more either-or button in your head couldn’t have been less appealing. TBD on dinner, you decided before hitting send.
Stephen and Taylor were still arguing—with Marcy, the stage manager having joined in the fun as well—when you locked the theater doors and headed for home, hoping you’d have some idea of what you wanted by the time you made it there.
But you didn’t.
An hour of freezing on the train and then trudging over slushy sidewalks did nothing to inspire your appetite. By the time you closed the front door behind you, you felt like crying.
Not even for any particular reason. The four naproxen you’d swallowed while waiting for the subway had started to do their job, but aside from your head, you didn’t feel any better. You wanted to cry the way Giuliana used to cry when she was overstimulated or unable to articulate her feelings. Throwing yourself on the floor and letting out a few big sobs—temper-tantrum style—didn’t sound quite so bad.
“Hey,” Joe called from the other room. You heard him coming closer. “How was—” He stopped in the doorway and frowned. “What’s wrong? You okay?” Your purse fell heavily off your shoulder, and you moved wordlessly toward him, dropping your forehead against his collarbone. His arms went around you and he absently kissed the side of your head. “Show’s goin’ that well, hmm?” he asked with a soft laugh.
“It’s a nightmare” you muttered against the cable knit of his sweater. “And I know I said I’d let you know about dinner but—” you stopped and let out a truly pathetic whine when he started to rub your back.
“But...?”
You took in a deep breath, trapping his comforting scent deep in your lungs before you pulled away to look up into his face. “But I’ve had a rough day and all I really want is a drink and to not make any decisions.”
Joe smiled and bent to kiss you. “I think I can handle that.” He nodded toward the living room. “Go sit.”
You did as directed, flopping onto the couch with a heavy sigh. It took a moment before you realized how quiet the house was. “Didn’t there used to be a kid running around here somewhere?” You called to Joe, who had returned to the kitchen.
“Oh, uh, yeah,” he said with the sound of clinking glassware behind his words. “I gave her away.”
You smiled into the pillow and waited until you heard his footsteps approaching before you forced yourself to sit up again. “To a nice family, at least?”
He shrugged, not breaking character. “I don’t know. I think they were carnies. I wasn’t paying attention.” He handed you a glass of dark red wine and you snorted before he smiled. “Your mum picked her up after school,” he said, reminding you that you’d already signed off on the idea when your mother called that morning to ask about it. “Something about a girls’ day?”
You hummed into your wine and nodded. “So…we have the house to ourselves,” you said after a moment.
“Looks that way, yeah,” he agreed, dropping to sit on the ottoman in front of you. “Shame you had such a bad day.”
You smiled again. “You know, a certain kind of man might exploit this for personal gains,” you considered out loud. “Me not wanting to make any decisions means that technically, I’ll go along with whatever you want.”
He laughed quietly. “That what you want?” he raised his eyebrows. “Me to order you about all night?”
You moved your shoulder in a little shrug. “Might not be the worst thing.”
“Alright,” He mirrored your shrug. “Go upstairs.”
You choked on a laugh. “Oh my God, okay. Guess I walked right into that one.”
“Go upstairs,” he repeated patiently, “so I can run you a bath.”
Your shoulders fell from your ears, and you felt dangerously close to a swoon. “Really?”
He looked thoughtful. “Unless you’ve…decided that you don’t want me to take care of you. Which breaks your rule so, no.” He shook his head. “I’m in charge. Go lay down, I’ll tell you when it’s ready.”
Joe was good at a great many things—but he excelled at baths. You hadn’t even realized how good a bath could be until he came back into your life. But this was his thing—his favorite way to relax. And now that you’d been made aware of the difference between salts and oils and bubbles, there was no going back to a life of perfunctory showers.
This bath was no different. The water felt like silk against your skin when you sank into it, the lavender oil mixing deliciously with the vanilla candles he’d lit around the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the tub after he’d helped you in. “Temperature okay?”
You nodded with a quiet hum and slid lower, breaking the surface of the water with your wiggling toes. “It’s perfect,” you sighed.
He stood. “Good,” he said, bending to kiss the top of your head.
“Wait,” you whined quietly and reached for his hand before he could leave. “Where are you going?”
He smiled. “Don’t you want your wine?”
“Oh,” you sank a little deeper as you nodded again. “Yes. I do.”
Joe returned with a refilled glass and another kiss for you. “You enjoy that, love.”
“No, don’t go,” you shook your head. “Get in this bath with me.”
“I thought you were exhausted,” he reminded with a little laugh.
“We don’t have to do anything,” you replied. “Just come sit—this is too nice for just me.”
“These sound like decisions,” he said, standing to pull his sweater over his head. “Which if I recall—”
“Just get in!”
The water came dangerously close to the edge of the tub as Joe climbed in and settled behind you, but it didn’t overflow. You leaned your back against his chest and let out a deep, contented sigh.
You felt him smile as he kissed your temple. “Good?”
“Uh-huh,” you agreed, lacing the fingers of your free hand loosely with his. Your eyelids were starting to feel heavy as you let your head rest on his shoulder. “You know what my favorite thing about this house is?”
Joe’s thumb brushed lightly against your palm. “The pocket doors in the kitchen.”
You smiled and looked back at him. “Okay yes,” you admitted. “The pocket doors in the kitchen are my very favorite thing. But this gigantic bathtub is a very, very close second.” You took another sip of your wine and turned back around. “And this is delicious,” you commented. “What is this?”
“It’s one of the bottles I bought for New Year’s,” he said, absently letting the tips of his fingers drift down your arm and into the water. “The Burgundy, I think.”
“Mmm,” you nodded before a memory returned to the forefront of your mind, bringing you a smile and a twist of your heart. A fact that Grendad shared with you almost twenty years ago on one of his visits to the city. “Did you know there’s a bottle of Burgundy that sold for $558,000?”
“Jesus,” he mused.
You felt your forehead fold in concern as you turned around again. “You didn’t pay some stupidly high price for this bottle, did you?”
Joe grinned. “Not that high.”
“How much.”
“Somewhere between $558,000 and the $12 bottles of almost-salad-dressing you usually buy.”
You laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with McManis, you snob.”
“Just sip that and don’t worry about it,” he said, still smiling.
You stretched your neck to kiss him and then settled back against his chest. “Thank you for this,” you said softly after a moment of peaceful silence had fallen over the room.
“It’s my pleasure, love,” he said. “I’m sorry you had a bad day.”
You took another sip of your wine. “Did I?” you asked. “I can hardly remember now.”
After all, how bad could a day be if it ended like that?
----
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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years
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WAIT UNTIL YOU TASTE ME 18+ Hawkins community pool offers a range of swimming lessons, from tiny tots, to diving for beginners - and the private kind, of course. Just ask for Steve and don't mind Eddie, he likes to lurk in the bleachers. Loosely based on the movie float, lifeguard!steve, a summer full of swimming lessons. mentions of drowning, eventual smut 18+
LIKE IT’S LOVE? 18+ Steve knew he’d fight a god before he let them take you.
“I love you,” Steve whispered and his voice cracked on each word. Tears from his eyes stream the dirt on his face, running rivers down your cheek until they mixed with your own. “I’ll find you again. In the next life, and the next again. I prom—”
MY NAME IS WHATEVER YOU DECIDE 1/2 18+ MY NAME IS WHATEVER YOU DECIDE 2/2 18+
He came into the dining room of the club one Saturday afternoon. Sunkissed, tall, broad, stubble on his jaw and a gold chain glinting from the collar of his white shirt. He had a navy sweater draped over his shoulders, expensive sunglasses in his shirt’s front pocket, an unassuming looking leather strapped watch on his wrist - but you’d learned well before then how to tell the difference between new money and old money.   And Steve Harrington was old, old money. 
SHE DRIVES ME CRAZY 33K / 18+ Welcome to Camp Upside Down, an idyllic spot nestled in Yellowwood State Park, Indiana. Founded in 1959, Camp Upside down hosts an array of many summer activities, from lake sports, hikes, arts and crafts and team building experiences… and Steve fucking Harrington. An enemies to lovers story.
MEET ME IN THE AFTERGLOW 33.5K / 18+ Camp Upside Down seemed far too quiet when you finally opened the car door and set a foot on the old pine needles. Like something was missing. 
“Hey,” Robin rushed in with a hug, warm and sweet. “You’re here early.” She gave that same frown, lips set into a confused smile as she looked through your windscreen, at the empty passenger seat. “Where’s Steve?”
“Uh,” your voice broke, just a little, enough for Robin’s eyes to widen. “We broke up.”
WE TRIED THE WORLD 50K / 18+ Steve Harrington gazed at you with a shockingly sincere expression, with a little furrow knitted between his brows and he asked you: “D’you wanna run away with me?” The road trip au where you’re trying to find a home.
BAD FOR BUSINESS 18+ / 23.6K An enemies to lovers AU. Join the team at the Upside Down Arcade, where the machines eat your quarters and the staff have some personal issues. Stay tuned for the Pick Your Own Adventure polls to progress in the story.
SWEET ON YOU SUGAR, SUGAR HARD CANDY 18+ He stole glances at you, not so subtle gazes from under his lashes when he thought you weren’t looking, as if he wondered where this night was going, where those white lines were leading you both. You turned the corner into his street, the houses growing bigger as you went, the cars on the drive more expensive and the smell of chlorine filled the air, the soft trickle of backyard pools and front lawn fountains filling up the silence. “You staying?” 
FULL OF IT ASK FOR IT 18+ “Full of what?” He asked, voice low, a little hoarse now.
You nipped at the curve of his bottom lip, the tip of your tongue soothing over it, making him groan, chest rumbling against yours. “Cheek,” you grinned, another kiss pushed to his lips and Steve hummed. “Trouble,” you added, another kiss, a tug of his hair.
He tasted sweeter when he kissed you again, like leftover summer, and when he pressed his mouth to your ear, you shivered, delighted. “Wanna be full of me later?”
A LITTLE MEAN FOR ME A LITTLE SWEET FOR ME 18+ “I’d give you anything you wanted.” There it was, that sweetness, that softness that made your chest hurt, your knees weak. You hummed, so utterly happy beneath the boy. 
“Yeah?” You asked, a whisper.
“Fuck, yeah,” Steve answered, lips at the shell of your ear, trailing heat down your jaw, across your throat. His nails were blunt against your waist, dipping into the slope of your sides, pulling at the waistband of your skirt. “Tell me.”
“Want you to be a little mean to me, Steve.”
SOMETHIN UNHOLY' DIRTY, DIRTY BOYS 18+ Steve and Eddie shared a lot of things, you’d noticed.
Steve’s car when Eddie’s van inevitably broke down, Eddie’s stash of weed, a lighter, sometimes clothes when parties got out of hand and everyone crashed at the Harrington's. They shared cassettes, mixtapes, the key to your back door, the way they looked at you.
A COUPLE DAYS IN (I CALL YOU BABY) 18+ CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO You hit the button at the top of his profile, the one that said: “send a message.” A new page popped up, a little chat box that was intimidatingly empty and you stilled, staring at it. What did you say? How did you begin?
‘Hey, I’ve looked at precisely five photos of you and I know you work at some video store and I think you’re hot. Wanna have sex?’
You cringed, eyes squeezing shut as you quickly deleted the words, groaning at the empty space once more. You remembered what Robin had said, about how wanting to hook up with someone was okay. Loads of people did it. It was fine. 
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missbeautyandherbeast · 3 months
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Ways to My Heart
Donatello X Reader
Summary: Request: Originally based on “Ways to Break My Heart” by Ed Sheeran but it got healthier
A/n: Apparently I appear every Christmas and rewrite an old prompt. And now that I'm older and healthier, it's kinda fun. And y'all were right, we're not about to be a rebound. So, for my dear @witchancunin, I hope you don't mind that it's been four years.
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Autumn was settling in. With the wave after wave of rain that we had, there were little colors to the dying trees. Some scientific reason about fungi and decay. Donnie had explained it, but I barely payed attention. 
Not that I wasn’t paying attention to him: I was too focused. We were working on a new lego set and I had one to many to drink to pit the small plastic pieces together so he took over and his fingers though larger than mine, were so nimble and they pursued the legos with ease as he assembled a BD-1 droid: my present to him after we finished The Fallen Order together. 
The thought of us playing made me smile. I played through most of the game, getting my Star Wars fix, but when it became too difficult, I’d get so frustrated and Donnie would laugh and take the controller from me and defeat whatever stood in my way. I loved and hated him for it. 
But that didn’t change the fact that New York was wet and colorless.
I took the hidden alley, now slick with today’s chilled rain, and followed the path down to his home and the warmth it offered. And when winter came and I missed the heat of my hometown—which was safe and sound in the middle of Georgia—four brothers did their best to keep me temperate: Mikey was all hugs; Raphael actually knitted me a sweater last winter (yes it was purple, no I don’t want to talk about it); Leo let me invade his space now and again if he was meditating; and Donnie… well there was no place warmer than his lab. Between the tech and the constant blush he knew how to get on my face and down my neck… it was where I spent most of my time. 
“Still no color,” I sighed, shrugging off my coat and hanging it in my usual spot by his door. 
“I told you there wouldn’t bet be,” His eyes flashed to mine before returning to his project. 
“A girl can dream,” A smile touched my lips as I wandered over to see what he was working on. 
In front of him was a circuit board and he was soldering wires to the metal with such precision. I left him to it, having no idea the plans in his head of creation, and I found my book on one of his other work stations. Picking it up, I resumed reading—a romance novel I let myself indulge in now and again when I was over stressed. This one was about chess and it was set in Jersey, which I found hysterical. 
I must have made a sound, or a face, or some sort of tell because I heard his voice pulling me from the fictional world. 
“What did Nolan do now?” Donnie asked, pushing back from his desk and over to where I was curled up. 
“Not Nolan,” the story’s main guy. “It’s Oz. He’s definitely telling off Mallory right now,” 
“Oooo what did she do?” I had his full attention. And it wasn’t the first time. He insisted that every time I read a book I tell him about it, despite the many insistings that he read them himself. 
“I like your perspective,” He told me once. “Books are dull, dry, but you bring them alive,” 
So, I launched into the tale, weaving the complexities of the plot with my words and gestures, the poor book being waved around. And all the while his eyes stayed on mine, and he gave the softest smile that belonged to only me. 
He always kept me warm. 
When it go late enough, and we had joined his family in having pizza and watching tv (we were currently going through the newer She-Ra on Netflix), I had to trek back out into the cold. 
“Let me take you home,” Donnie piped up, seeing me get my coat and boots. 
“I’m a big girl, I can handle it,” I rolled my eyes. 
“I know,” He said with such certainty. “Let me do it anyway.” There was that warmth again. 
“Okay,” 
Raph gave me a knowing look but I ignored him. 
And like greeting an old friend, we had our routine. Donnie would stay, and we’d curl up on my couch and watch old reruns of Doctor Who until we were both asleep in the comfort of my apartment. 
And it was warm. 
……………………………….
Then April came. 
And God it was so nice to have a friend who was in on the secret. We explored New York together, had movie nights, and so many girl talks that may have involved some alcohol. 
But it meant I had to watch Donnie fall head over heels for her—from my usual spot in his lab, as he showed her all of his projects, chattering happily. 
I told myself it didn’t bother me. And it didn’t. 
Sorta. 
Maybe? 
Shut up. 
Hiding it from Donnie was easy. Hiding it from the rest of his family? Not so much. 
“You okay kid?” Raph asked, standing beside me as Donnie explained the entire Shell-Razer to April. 
“Why wouldn’t I be?” My voice was low. 
“Because my brother’s an ass,” 
I laughed humorlessly. “We weren’t together Raph.” A shrug fell from my shoulders as I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to fight off the lingering chill. “It’s fine. I’m—fine.” 
It was a few weeks later that I came to the lair; always having an excuse to not accompany April. I could see it in her eyes that she knew something was up, but she didn’t call me out on it—yet. 
“Miss Y/n,” Splinter stopped me as I entered. 
“Master Splinter,” I gave a small head nod. 
“Let’s talk child,” His words caught me off guard. 
“Um. Okay,” I followed him to the meditation room that was lit softly with sparse candles. 
“You have not been coming around as often.” It was a statement. Not a question. 
“Yeah,” I knew no excuse would work on the old master, and the father of four boys. 
“Is everything alright?” He rose an eyebrow and I gave a feeble lie: 
“Yeah,” 
He nodded. “Let’s try that again. Everything is not alright.” 
Tears glossed my vision and the familiar pain flooded my chest like ice. I tilted my chin back, holding my head high. 
“Master, there’s nothing I can do.” I opened my mouth to continue trying to find the courage. “I care deeply for him,” My eyes trained on a candle flame. “But I never told him and… that’s my consequence to live with,” 
“I see,” His wise voice held so much understanding that it washed over me. “And because of that choice, you do not come around as often?” 
“It hurts less,” That was the simple fact. “I don’t have to watch him…” 
“Chase after April?” Splinter filled in knowing. 
“Yeah.” 
He nodded. “Perhaps you and April should talk,” 
“Look, I don’t—“ 
“Y/n,” He cut me off and I pursed my lips. “April is your best friend, and I have a feeling she wants to help you,” 
“I know,” He was right, and maybe hearing git gave me the courage to say something after all. A smile touched my lips. “Thanks Sensei.” 
“I care about my family,” He said. “And that includes my daughters,” 
Tears stung my eyes again as he gave me a hug. 
“Thank you,” 
“Of course, child,” 
……………………………………….
April and I did sit down and talk. More of she called me out on moping and avoiding the subject. So, we sat on our fire escape and talked. About everything. 
She knew when she first got there that there was something going on between Donnie and me. And though she loved the brothers, she didn’t like Donnie that way. She also knew that was the reason I was avoiding going to the lair. 
“I’m sorry,” She said. 
“For what?” I almost laughed. 
“Because, before I came, there would have been no doubt that you and Donnie would be together by now,” 
“Hey I wouldn’t trade you for anything,” I smiled. “And if… if Donnie wants to be… whatever the heck this is, I can handle it.” 
“But you shouldn’t have to,” April said. “I want you to be happy Y/n. And I want you back at the lair. I… I just want you to have your life back,” 
“It wouldn’t be as fun without you.” 
“I know,” She laughed. “But I am going to talk to Donnie,” She must have seen the horror on my face. “Not about you! God no! But I’m gonna tell him that I don’t feel that way about him, and hopefully he gets the message,” 
I nodded. “Thanks April,” 
When April had told me that Donnie took their talk semi-well, I still gave it a few weeks before I headed to the lair, not wanting to have to pick up the aftermath of his shattered fantasy. 
With end of Spring, I had my family back. 
There was a cool distance between Donnie and I that was slowly thawing until I was back in his lab reading and he was fidgeting with his tools. It took another week for him to ask me about my book. And another week for him to take me home. And a few more days for his smile to be back. And a couple more for mine to stay. I wrestled with what had happened in the winter and spring, trying to look for the other shoe to drop. 
But when the six of us played a board game, or watched movies or even had dinner, all that was felt was camaraderie. Donnie didn’t notice April anymore and he backed down. Raph kept a careful eye just like I did. When he caught my stare, Raph rose an eyebrow at me, glancing to Donnie. I shrugged and smiled. 
I didn’t know. 
And I think that was okay. 
I think I was okay.
With summer, meant my birthday. June 14th. The boys and April insisted on throwing a big party for me in the lair with cake and presents and music and dancing. I hadn’t laughed so much in months. 
Donnie offered to walk me home, like always. Like old times. Like now. 
We were standing on my roof, all I had to do was climb down the fire escape to the apartment April and I shared. 
“Happy birthday,” His smile was back, and God I had missed it. All of the careful walls I had built around myself came crashing down at the simple gesture. 
“Thanks Donnie,” 
And in the starlight of the roof, alone with the city alive beneath us, he leaned in and his lips were on mine. A stolen kiss that had me wrecked. 
Donnie pulled away, wonder in my eyes, and confusion in his. 
“I—I’m sorry,” He stammered out, his brows pulling together. 
“It’s… it’s okay,” I managed a smile. 
“I’m sorry,” he said again, backing away. “That… I didn’t mean—it was a mistake,” He choked out. 
My body jerked back with the rejection that crashed over it. 
“What?” My voice was as cold as ice. 
“I—I don’t know why I did that.”
“Oh, okay,” I managed.
He was gone like a shadow in the night and I stood there frozen. 
…………………………………
I must have been up there for too long, because April came up to find me. 
“Hey are you okay?” Her voice was concerned. 
“Um,” Was all I could manage. 
“What happened? Donnie came back and he’s not talking. He’s barricaded himself in his lab.” 
“Um.” I said again. “He… he kissed me.” 
“Oh my God that’s amazing!” April celebrated, but paused when she saw the dread in my eyes. “Then what happened?” 
“He. Um. Said it was a mistake.” I choked out. 
“I—I’m—I’m actually going to kill him,” April said. “He said that? To you!? After kissing you!?” She was outraged, and maybe I should have been too, but it was like my entire body had gone into a comatose. She took my hands into hers. I met her eyes. Tears finally thawed and started to fall. 
“Oh, honey come here,” She pulled me into a hug and I started crying. Every tear I had denied finally rushed forward, and soon I was sobbing on that roof. 
“Did I do something wrong?” I asked her, miserable. We had made it back to the flat, and we were curled up on my bed. 
“No, honey, you didn’t.” April soothed, petting my hair. 
The next morning he was standing in my living room. The two of us. Standing like we had not twenty four hours ago. But the morning was different. Now I couldn’t bare to be near him. It was only because April said I should at least get closure this time that I was even out here.
I stared at him, my lips pursed, waiting for him to say something. 
“I’m sorry,” He blurted out. “That—what I said, it wasn’t what I meant.” He started pacing anxiously. “Look, I know that I hurt you with that whole April thing, and I haven’t apologized for that and I really should and I want to!” His words began tumbling together in his nervousness. “And I wanted to do that before I ever did anything else, and God definitely before kissing you, but you were there so close on that roof and you were just beautiful, and I—I’m so sorry,” 
I blinked. My face when through a series of expressions before settling on shocked confusion. 
“I know!” Donnie insisted. “God, I know and I’m so sorry Y/n. Especially for not explaining last night. But I was panicking and—“ He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for chasing after April like I did. I genuinely thought that you’d never want me like that. And that was a dick thing for me to do. And I’m sorry for hurting you for so long.” He smiled a bit. “And I’m sorry for crossing your boundaries last night. And for not sticking around and explaining. Also a dick move on my part. So… yeah,” He nodded, not daring to meet my eyes. 
“Um. Okay,” I managed. “Uh… wow.” 
“I know it’s a lot. I’m sorry,” He said. 
“You can stop apologizing Donnie,” I gave a small laugh. “That’s um… alright. Thanks? I think?” 
“Are you mad?” His eyes met mine. “I don’t know…” I confessed. “Um I think I need a minute. Or two,” 
“Right! Yeah! Of course! Take as much time as you need!” He said backing away. “Um—I’m gonna go and give you space, but you can come over or call or anything anytime—we are still having game night tonight, so if you want to come—not that you have to!” He was an anxious mess again. 
I placed my hand on his arm to stop him. “Thank you,” I smiled pointedly. 
“Right, um… I’ll just be off then,” He nodded, backing away. “Bye.” 
“Bye?” I laughed. And like that he was gone again. “Hey April?” I called, knowing she heard all of that. 
She emerged from her room. 
“You heard all of that right?” I clarified. 
“Every word,” She was grinning. 
“Why does it all feel so weird?” I asked. “Like really weird.”
“Because that my dear,” April said. “Was emotional maturity.” 
“Is that what that looks like?” 
“For the most part,” April nodded. “So, what are you feeling?”  
“That, it all makes sense? And I want to believe him? And that its still really weird,” 
“All fair feelings,” April said. 
The hours ticked by until game night at the lair. April and I had gone back and forth about going or not. And when it came time to it… I was putting on my sneakers and grabbing my bag. 
I walked into the lair and I felt every stare on me. I was only looking for one gaze though. 
“Hey,” He said, getting up, looking genuinely surprised that I was there. 
“Hey.” I smiled. “Can we talk?” 
Tags: @brightlotusmoon@boatloadsofheart@legandarybeauty@crazywritingbug@bitch-kms@ravn-87@just-a-casual-fangirl-011@unicornjoos @stuckoutsideofthebox@ilikestuffproductions@whygz@coffee-addicti@sugarspooks15@leslieebee@serperiorkb@blossom-skies@fantastical-67impala-fangirl@coresan@big-banging-red@iceprincess2019@raphaeladdict@thirstyforvenom @merindagriese@depressedemo-152@bengewatch@corabmarie@bitemebro522@tmnt-queen@muleka-loka@violet-sky-96 @curadopordeus@artemismohr18​ @thewhisperpen @xjupitermoonsx@bisexualbumblebeesstuf f @merindagriese @oceans-daughter-3​ @dixonreedusfangirlforever@shanidenise@thegayestfish441@lovelyyroseee@yourlieberhoe@dolphincommander@molzies-fanfics@fuzzy-panda@msmcsmutt​ @zombiesnips-blog
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wisteriasymphony · 29 days
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It was Adrien Agresté’s wedding day... Not like he particularly gave a shit.
It was late at night, in the interim between the hideous ordeal that was the ceremony and the reception that was to occur the next day. Of course, anyone in their right mind would balk at the idea of extending the entire wedding across two days, whether for ego or to demonstrate a particular level of wealth or influence, but the media had eaten the idea up like nuts. Marinette especially had been insisted that this was the most romantic thing to do, to give each part of the wedding its own day to shine. 
…But that wasn’t the reason Adrien had insisted upon it. And it especially wasn’t the reason he had put off consummation of the marriage.
Giddy as any newlywed should usually be, Adrien exchanged his tuxedo for a casual green sweater and chinos; He donned reading glasses he had left alone for years; He slipped off his Miraculous and set it on his nightstand. And, taking one last look at his old room before it would inevitably be overrun by a second person…. Adrien slipped out the window and down a ladder, just like old times.
He had done it! After two years of agony, he had done it! His contract to happiness had been fulfilled, his debt to destiny paid in full. Adrien couldn’t help but shout with an inappropriate joy as he ran through the streets like some sort of madman, barreling over stopped cars and through groups of passerby, across street corner after street corner after street corner until he reached Place de Bastille. He knew how to get to the café from there; He’d etched the memory deep into his heart.
And at 23:00 in the evening, Claudia Perreault got an unexpected costumer at the Cafe L’Automne. 
“Adrien—“
He dashed over to give her the kiss he’d been saving for her since the very day they parted. Even as he had to cut it off to let himself catch his breath, Adrien still kept himself within a kiss’s reach, just so he’d be ready for another.
“I- I missed you so much, Claudia,” he panted, marveling at the sight of her once more. Her hair had been dyed this wonderful fuchsia, and in an instant Adrien wished his wedding had been filled with nothing but. Fuchsia bouquets, a fuchsia pocket square, fuchsia bowtie and fuchsia altar. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”
Claudia checked her watch. “I’d say it was probably, like… two years, give or take. Maybe less.”
Adrien pushed the counter door open, taking Claudia by the hand and pulling her out into the dining area of the café, twirling her past cleaned tables and stacked chairs. “God, Claudia, you’re as perfect as the day I lost you! If only-“
Adrien stopped for a moment, then remembered the other ring still on his hand. He pulled their hands together and leaned in to give Claudia another kiss, but his first love was not as easily fooled as Marinette was... And Claudia had taken the ring long before Adrien could remove it himself.
“If only what?” She asked, eyeing the ring distrustfully. Adrien hoped she hadn’t been paying attention to the local news lately, though perhaps it was a bit too late to hope such a thing.
Adrien sighed, before pulling her in and trying again, this time with words and not actions: “If only you were the woman I exchanged rings with today,” he spoke, caressing Claudia’s cheek. “I’ll forever wish that was the case.”
“Uhm- I’m sorry— Today?!” Claudia extended an arm to force her ex-lover further apart from her, eyebrows knit together in exasperation. “Oh, god, Adrien,” she muttered, pinching the bridge with her nose, “How many hours ago did you get married?”
“Well, maybe like, eight or nine.” Adrien took his wedding band back from Claudia, only to slip it into his pocket. “-But it was a necessary sacrifice! You remember, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know, but within the same 24 hours?” Even when she was annoyed at him, she was still so beautiful. “That’s really the most damning part, Adrien. You couldn’t bear to wait a day?”
“God, no. -Hell, I’m disappointed you don’t offer catering, I would’ve had you be there with me if you did.”
“Yeah, ‘cause it’s every woman’s dream to be catering for her ex’s wedding. Right.” Claudia tried to walk back to the cafe’s counter, only for Adrien to grab her by the hand.
“They wouldn’t have to know…” he smiled, spinning her around again with just as much passion in that single move as he’d probably give for the entire of his first dance with his wife the day after. 
Claudia just rolled her eyes at him, her lips pursed together. “Until they found you cornering me in the bathroom, that is.”
“Oh, baby, I would never~”
“Corner me in the bathroom, or cheat on your fiancée during your own wedding?”
Adrien paused for a moment. “The former,” he sighed. “Just the former. …It would be to one of the bedrooms that I’d try to whisk you away.”
Claudia just shook her head at the notion, exasperated. As romantic as this man was, it was apparently in all the wrong places. “I don’t know what I’ll do with you, Eddí…”
“You could always ma—“ Nope! Can’t say that anymore! You already are! “…You could hear me out. Let me visit every once in a while, let me stay the night, perhaps…”
“Is there such a thing as aiding and abetting in an adultery?” She muttered to herself. “Or would I not count if I’m the mistress?”
“She’s the mistress, sweetheart, not you,” he lied. “The rings don’t really mean anything,” he lied again. “I want to make it work with you even despite these circumstances.”
“…Right.” Claudia rolled her eyes again. “You can start by going back home, Eddí. Give it at least a month, okay?”
A month. Yeah, he could wait a month.
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New Girl In Town - Bookstore Owner!Chris AU (Headcanon)
A/N: okay so I literally couldn’t stop thinking about this little universe and thus this was born because I have no chill
Summary: As you explore your new town you stumble across your version of paradise
Warnings: Bookish Fluff! Not edited at all!
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Masterlist
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It had been two months since you moved into the small town of Sudbury
You knew nothing about the area, or anyone else who lived here but it was a small price to pay for your dream job working at a small independent publishing company
You had slowly began to make friends at your job but your days off were spent in solitude, exploring the small town you now called home
One of your co-workers had suggested you check out this small cafe on one of the smaller side streets
Her directions weren’t the best though so despite your best efforts you couldn’t find it, not even google maps could help
As you were about to make your way back onto the Main Street, you spotted a small bookstore that instantly captured your attention with its old school look
A small bell chimed as you pushed the door open, and the feeling of warmth instantly hit you, the smell of books filling your nostrils
You had barely stepped inside and you felt more at home than you did in your apartment
The wooden floorboards creaked as you slowly began exploring the quiet shop, your fingers gently brushing over the spines of the books
You were pretty deep into the store when you found a dog who kinda looked like the Artful Dodger from Oliver and Company curled up on a dog bed
The pup lifted its head, tail gently wagging as you bent down to stroke the top of its head
“Hi is there anything I could help you find?” A deep voice says behind you.
You quickly stand back up, turning around to face the man, smoothing out your clothes when you saw just how handsome this stranger was, wearing a cable knit sweater, a pile of book in his hands
“Oh uh no I was just looking, is this your dog?” You ask.
“Yeah his name’s Dodger, found him on the doorstep a few years back and we’ve been hanging together ever since” the man smiles “I’m Chris by the way” he adds holding out his free hand.
“Y/N” you smile shaking his hand.
Chris repeats your name with a gentle smile “are you new around here? I’ve just never seen you before and I know I’d remember seeing you around if you weren’t”
You tried to stop the blush the crept up onto your cheeks, ducking your head to hide it instead “yeah moved in a couple months ago, i’ve just been exploring the town”
“Oh nice, have you checked out Mugs and Magic, best coffeehouse in town” Chris asks
“No I was actually trying to find it when I found this place” you tell him.
“It’s a pretty easy place to miss, doesn’t look like a coffeehouse at all” Chris chuckles “I can draw you a map” he offers nodding his head back towards the front desk
“That would be amazing thank you” you smile following him over to the front desk
He quickly grabbed a scrap piece of paper and drew you a simple map that showed the way from the bookstore to the coffeehouse “there you go, is there anything else I can help you with?”
"actually you don't happen to have a copy of The Mysterious Affair Of Styles do you? Don't worry if you don't I know its pretty rare, and I know I could just get it on my Kindle but..." you ask
"but its not as nice as reading a physical copy" Chris says with a smile at the same time as you
"exactly, you don't get the book smell" you say with a bashful smile
"well we don't have it but I'll keep my eyes out for it" Chris offers
“That’ll be amazing, i’ll see you around, I’m sure you’ll be seeing me in here a lot” you smile taking a step back, glancing around the shop
"i look forward to it" Chris smiles are you walk back towards the door
"see you around Chris" you smile as you step outside the chime of the bell signalling your exit
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wannaeatramyeon · 9 months
Note
Hi! I was actually reading your lookism love languages post and you said in your tags you’d be interested to see if anyone disagreed So hi I’m here
I am joking I’m not here just to disagree, more build on what you said
I’d like to argue that Daniel can be the type to like receiving gifts as a love language BUT!!
It’s gotta have some significance or meaning to it. While yes, Jay gave him a whole ass designer wardrobe, you’re correct in that he didn’t know the actual value but, the only reason he accepted it was because Jay said it was hand me downs he was planning to toss out anyway. So clearly-he’s not really going to treat the gift as something significant, while he is very great full for the clothes-it doesn’t seem like there was much to fuss over and if he knew the actual price he wouldn’t have accepted the generous gift in the first place.
However, you remember that five dollar bill his mom gave him? You could argue that it’s because it was his mom who was struggling to make ends meet as it is but I feel like that just puts even more significance to it? Like if you’re his loving doting partner and you didn’t really buy something fancy or decided to give him something you already owned just cause you thought he’d like/need it but you went out of your way to spend the time and effort making something I think that’s what would touch his heart more. He can’t deny the gift because it was expensive (it literally costed you $20 to make but like 50+ hours to put it together) and that would be like denying your feelings! If you had went out of your way to make him a special knit blanket or sweater I could see him refusing to wear/use it for a while out of fear of ruining it. Once he finally dips his toes in the water and actually uses it/realizes how soft and warm it is he would never part from it.
Damn. Anon you actually make a really good point on the five dollar bill.
For the example you gave. Daniel would definitely prefer something that took more time and effort than a bought gift. Though I do also think what asshole would not appreciate it?! And I would set the wholeass blanket/sweater on fire and THEM.
Tbh, I think I just love the idea of Daniel Park's being receiving words of affirmation because it emboldens the significance of you in his life.
Yeah yeah, everyone thinks he's special but when you say it?! He stammers and blushes and denies it whilst thinking 'OMG Y/N THINKS I'M SPECIAL??"
Hugs his pillow to his chest, rolling in bed all night just replaying it over and over in his head.
More context here: Lookism boys & their love languages
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lillywillow · 2 years
Text
World’s Greatest Grandma
Summary: Knitting is a passionate hobby of yours; one that Bucky finds fascinating to watch
 Written for: @buckybarnesbingo
 Words: 1077
 Square Filled: C5- Knitting
 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Gender Neutral Reader  
 Warnings: None
 Knitting was something you found very calming. A lot of people thought it was strange that you like doing something that was deemed ‘an old lady’ thing but you didn’t care. You didn’t have to please anyone else but yourself. Once a week, you would go down to the ladies as a part of your knitting group and have a nice chat while you worked on your projects. You had come a long way from doing simple squares and gone onto knit more complicated items such as sweaters, scarves and dolls. You also liked to give these items out as gifts to family and friends. When Bucky saw you knitting for the first time, he was completely fascinated. He would watch the way the yarn would go from the ball, onto the needle and weave into whatever pattern you were making.
 One afternoon, you were working a project when you could feel a pair of eyes on you. You knew they had to belong to Bucky as he was the only one who would stare intently at you while you were knitting.
 “Bucky,” you softly called, not taking your eyes off your row.
 Bucky jumped and became all flustered.
 “S-Sorry. Was I staring? I’ll just go…”
 “It’s okay. I was wondering if you would like to learn how to knit?” you replied, finishing up the row you were on.
 “Like you? I don’t know… I don’t think I would to all those fancy designs or anything like that plus I’m scared I’d break your sticks and…”
 “Bucky, it’s okay. It took me a long time to get to the level that I currently am. Everyone starts somewhere. Besides, I have a pair of needles that I think could handle your metal grip,” you softly smiled.
 “Well… okay…”
 You gently sat Bucky down next to you and fished out a pair of metal knitting needles out of your bag.
 “Pick one,” you instructed, showing him the different balls of yarn you had in your collection.
 Bucky looked at all the different colours. Some were just plain and one shade, others were rainbow dyed, changing and merging into each other on the string and some were bright and neon. Bucky ended up choosing a nice maroon one that had a silver thread running through it.
 “First, I’ll cast on for you, okay?” you explained.
 Bucky nodded and watched as you wound the yarn onto the first needle, slowly using the second to form what would be the base of this… whatever it was going to become.
 “There. Now to teach you how to knit…”
 Bucky listened to you and followed your instructions just the way you taught him. He was a little clumsy but that was perfectly fine for a beginner. When you thought he had gotten the hang of it, you picked up your own project and continued working on it.
 “So… What made you decide to do knitting?” Bucky asked after a while.
 “I know it sounds cliché but it’s something my nana taught me,” you replied, smiling fondly at the memory.
 Bucky listened to you as you told him stories about your grandmother and all the things she taught you. He enjoyed seeing you so relaxed and happy and the way your face lit up as you shared your memories. Bucky liked moment like this; when it was just the pair of you and nothing else going on. He became so invested, he failed to notice when he dropped a stitch but when he did, he panicked a little. Instead of chastising him, you gently took the work from him and fixed it.
 “You’re really good at that,” Bucky mumbled, admiring your work and feeling embarrassed at the same time.
 “Don’t feel bad about it, Bucky. Every beginner drops a stitch from time to time. I still do and I’ve been doing it for a long time,” you reassured him.
 Bucky felt a little better.
 “You should come to my knitting group,” you smiled.
 “Your knitting group?”
 “Yeah. It’s just a few people. We chat, knit or crochet and just have fun. I think you’d like it…”
 Bucky thought for a moment. He did want to start getting more involved in the community and going with you to this group might be a step in the right direction.
 “I think so too,” he smiled.
 A few days later, you went to the nearby community centre with Bucky. You smiled as you introduced him while he stood there awkwardly. The ladies of your group greeted Bucky and encouraged him to sit. After a while, Bucky started to get a little more comfortable with himself and listened to the group talk. Thet spoke about their kids and grandkids, dating, and other things going on in their lives. When he started to feel like someone was watching him, he turned to see a little old lady, whom he identified from the others as Estelle, staring at him.
 “Can I help you?” Bucky asked.
 “You two boinkin’ yet?” she bluntly quizzed. Bucky became all flustered.
 “Ma, you can’t just ask that!” Estelle’s daughter Bea scolded.
 “What? I’m 80 years old. How many more years have I got? Besides, you’ve heard the way Y/N goes on about this guy. ‘Bucky’s so handsome, he’s so charming…’ I now see those stories aren’t exaggerated,” Estelle casually shrugged.
 Now it was your turn to be mortified.
 “You… really say those things about me?” Bucky asked with a blush.
 “Well, you’re someone important in my life… and… I like you a lot,” you muttered, feeling heat flood your face.
 “You two should go on a date,” Estelle insisted.
 The pair of you looked at each other.
 “How about after this, we go out to lunch?” Bucky suggested.
 “I’d love that,” you smiled.
 The two of you got your fair share of playful teasing for the rest of the time there but you didn’t mind. After the group packed up, you and Bucky went out to eat just like you said you would. In the end, you were glad your mutual love of your favourite hobby brought you together. You still had your team members calling you a grandma, but with Bucky by your side, you felt like the world’s greatest grandma.
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kingsansa · 2 years
Note
IY prompt: recap of Sansa's first year of working with Jon.
“Jon?”
He turns away from the window, “What?”
“Are you listening?”
Jon swallows down the impatient huff in his throat, shrugging. “Housekeeping, scheduling, social media management, attitude—”
“Self-starting attitude,” corrects Sam.
He’s just about to roll her eyes when he hears her laugh; giddy and trilling through the window pane. Just in the yard, Ghost is galloping across the green, tennis ball in his mouth. Sansa claps in excitement, like he’s retrieved a long lost buried treasure.
He forces himself to tear his gaze away once more. The sooner they get this over with, the better.
Sam clicks his pen, poised over the clipboard.
“Housekeeping. From one to five.”
Jon taps his fingers against the arm of his chair. Thinks about the chocolates on his pillow whenever his sheets are freshly washed. Thinks about the press and crease of his freshly laundered clothes.
“She irons my sweatpants.” says Jon. “And my hoodies.”
Sam’s brow furrows at that, “Really?”
“And she vacuums a lot,” He adds. “Like—a lot.”
Sam looks even more bewildered. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
It’s like she knew exactly when he was getting on the phone, or exactly when he was laying down for a nap, and she decided to plug it in.
Still. His couches are always furless.
“Five.”
Sam appears taken aback by the rating, but he circles the number on the form anyway.
“Would you like to make a note? About the vacuuming and the ironing?”
Jon doesn’t even think about it. “No.”
“Okay.” Sam shrugs, mostly to himself. “Scheduling is next.”
He rolls his eyes, doesn’t have to think about that either. “Four.”
“Any comments?”
“Stop making me go places.”
“I’m not writing that,” Sam says almost immediately, and Jon doesn’t miss his pen circling around the five.
He doesn’t correct him.
“Social media management.” Then Sam adds, a bit brightly, “I know you don’t go on there, much, but since she’s been running your account, you’ve gained 80 thousand followers. I’d say she’s well exceeded expectations.”
Jon doesn’t know how many followers he had before, but it sounds like he has a lot more now. “What does she post?”
Sam laughs, but it’s awkward. His cheeks go ruddy.
“You know…” He trails off. Hurriedly circles a five and doesn’t add anything else.
Jon doesn’t know, but he thinks of just a couple weeks ago, when Sansa forced him to take pictures down at the beach with his wetsuit on and off.
He thinks he has an idea.
“Alright. Dresscode?”
She always dressed rather professionally whenever they went places together, whether it was practice or a signing or an interview. Slacks and flats and button up blouses. At home is a slightly different story, and that mostly had to do with Ghost. She couldn’t vacuum up fur in black slacks or chase him out of wet sand with flats or bathe him in silk. She asked for permission to dress more casually, of course. He granted it.
But—
“She wears a lot of purple.” Jon blurts.
Just underneath the direwolves shirt she’s wearing right now, her bikini is lilac gingham. The string is knitted around her neck. And even if it wasn’t, she has these purple butterfly hair clips and her phone case is lavender—
“Okay,” He hears Sam say.
“There’s this sweater she wears—”
Lavender, fluffy, and so big that it almost swallows her whole. She has a baby blue one similar to it, but a turtleneck, and that one makes him want to touch, not even like that, just feel the skin of her cheek or run his fingers through her hair or hold her hand—
Jon stops himself short of explaining this when he looks over at Sam and finds that he looks amused. Almost….knowing.
“Five.” He says instead, quick and to the point.
“Would you like to make a note?” His mouth twitches. “About the purple?”
Jon rises, irritated and embarrassed, “Are we done here?”
“Self-starting attitude.” He’s kind enough to wipe the grin off of his face as he stands, too.
He doesn’t have to think about this one.
He thinks about how she tapes his sticks the night before a game just the way he likes. He thinks about how there’s a snack waiting for him every time he comes back upstairs from the gym. He thinks about how she always insists on putting on his sunscreen whenever he says he’s gonna go for a swim. Her palm on his neck, her fingers rubbing into his cheeks. He thinks about how there’s always gelato in the freezer when he needs it.
“Five.” He clears his throat.
“Any comments?”
“No.”
“Sounds good to me.” He clicks his pen again. “Now there’s just the raise. Since she scored so high—”
“$5.”
Sam’s brows shoot up. “$5?”
Jon feels his face warm, doesn’t meet his eyes. “That’s what I said.”
In just a year, she proved herself to be invaluable. Every scent she made now, she earned that, and then some. He tells himself that’s the reason he gives her such a big raise.
He tells himself that it’s not because he doesn’t wanna risk her leaving.
“If she keeps this up, she’ll be halfway to making what I make next year.” Sam quips, but he still looks surprised, shocked.
Jon swallows hard. “She deserves it.”
“Okay, then.” Sam says.
He begins to pack his things.
Jon looks outside the window. Sansa and Ghost aren’t there anymore.
“Are you giving them to her now? The results?”
His palms start to perspire at the thought, and he tries to rub them against his shorts as subtly as possible.
Sam notices, though, because he stops. He looks at his hands and then at him before he looks away.
“I think I’ll wait, actually. Maybe I’ll do it over the phone, since there’s hardly any comments.”
Jon swallows down his sigh of relief.
“Sounds good. I’ll walk you out.”
Sam smiles. He looks just a little sad, though. Jon decides to ignore that.
Sansa is in the living room, iron plugged in and warming up. She’s sitting on the couch, sorting clothes into two baskets. Ghost lays at her feet.
“See you Sans,” Sam waves, true to his word.
“Bye Sam!” She chirps back.
“Thanks,” Jon says, a little quieter.
“Don’t mention it,” Sam says back, and he shuts the door behind him.
He makes his way back to the living room and finds that Sansa has begun her ironing in earnest, starting with a pair of his game day slacks.
Tentatively, Jon takes a seat on the loveseat, just a little bit ways away.
“You can turn it if you want.” She tells him.
Some cooking show is on TV, a competition of some sorts. Her gaze flits occasionally to the screen in interest.
“I’m okay.” He says, and doesn’t say anything else.
Because really. He is okay.
Around her, everything always feels okay.
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jungle-angel · 1 year
Text
The Weaving Woman (Bob Floyd x Reader)
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Summary: Bob’s grandma is an integral part of the family and you wouldn’t have it any other way
Bob’s feet clunked down the stairs, still in his heavy boots and his hands running over his face. He was completely exhausted and wanted nothing more than to relax for just a little while before heading to bed. 
“What Bob? Did ya’ll forget something?” chuckled a familiar voice with an equally familiar Midwestern drawl. 
“Forgot what planet I landed on when the UFO dropped me off, Meemaw,” Bob yawned, flopping onto the couch. 
“Bullshit,” Marty chuckled as she made another stitch in her little knitting project. “Last time I spotted a UFO was when your grandfather came back from Korea.” 
Bob groaned, running his hands over his gummy eyes once again. 
“What’s with you anyways?” Marty asked him. “Ya’ll have been like this for the last three weeks.” 
“It’s everything Meemaw,” Bob answered. “(Y/n)’s on bedrest until the baby comes, Auggie and Patrick are all over the place and Dad’s on bedrest for the next six months until his knee heals.” 
Marty nodded knowingly, but hardly saying a word. “Getting under your skin is it?” 
Bob nodded.
“Sweetheart, I understand,” Marty told him. “Your grandfather and I have been married sixty years and every now and again we still get stressed over the little things.” 
“Really?” 
“Oh yes,” Marty replied. “When he got called for duty in Korea, we had already had three kids and a fourth on the way. I was stressed about how I’d be able to do this, that and five million other things.” 
“How’d you do it?” 
“Had a little help from Mrs. Chang and her mother up the road,” Marty told him. “We’d bitch about our husbands being away and everything else in between.” 
Bob gave it some more thought. Maybe he didn’t have any right to complain after knowing what his grandparents had gone through. “Now I feel bad.” 
“Don’t feel bad for complaining Bob,” Marty assured him, the click of her needles. “We all do it. The last four months, your grandfather wouldn’t stop bitching about the nerve pain in his feet and it ended with me telling him to stick a cork in it or he’ll wake up with a peg leg.” 
Bob laughed. One wouldn’t know it unless they knew her personally, but Marty had a mouth on her that would’ve put a Navy sailor to shame. “Thanks Meemaw,” he said. “I always feel better after we talk.” 
“Oh no worries sweet pea,” she assured him. “I’m always here if you need it.” 
Bob sat up and hugged his grandmother before she kissed his cheek. “Oh,” she said before his eyes shot up to hers. “Two things. Number one, this is for (y/n), it’s all done and just needs the seal of approval. Secondly don’t worry about your grandfather, I gave him one of those special brownies your dad had in the container on his nightstand. I’m pretty sure the nerve pain’s been nipped in the bud.” 
Bob made a face. “Uh, Meemaw......?” 
“Don’t think I don’t know what that is,” she chuckled. “Your grandfather and I lived through the sixties.” 
Bob thanked her and went straight upstairs, her handwork in his own hands and feeling loads better. 
You sat propped up in bed, reading the book that always sat right on your nightstand. “You good Bob?” 
“Yeah,” Bob sighed. “Just a little tired that’s all.” 
“Well,” you said. “Lucky for you, the boys are in bed and it’s just us.” 
Bob smiled and kissed your lips. “By the way,” he said. “Meemaw finished already. This is for you.” 
You gasped when you nearly saw it, a black and white little knit sweater with the little wooden buttons on it and in the corner a little patch in the shape of Jessie from Toy Story. 
“Oh Bob it’s beautiful,” you remarked happily. 
“She said she couldn’t resist,” Bob told you. “She saw the patch at the craft store and said it’d be perfect for when our little princess comes in two weeks.” 
You were happy beyond words and near to tears at the sight of the little sweater. Already Marty had made several blankets, little hats, socks and even a pair of mittens for your daughter who hadn’t yet entered the world, all of them made from soft yarn and wool, each emblazoned with bunnies, horses or even little Peter Rabbit patches, just as she had done for Auggie and Patrick. 
You and Bob kissed again, deeply and lovingly before you laid on your back and he began placing kisses on your large bump. “Hi princess,” he cooed, feeling her tiny little feet kicking from within. “We’re waiting for you. So isn’t great-grandma.” 
You couldn’t wait. Soon there would be a little girl in the family that everyone would be overjoyed to meet and who would be the most loved little girl you had ever met. 
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deluxewhump · 2 years
Text
Martin Olson
two: pet interview
Summary: Martin Olson has been given his friend Erik’s pet for safekeeping, while he deals with legal trouble. Martin has long coveted this particular pet, and wants to take things slow and win him over. He’s not an unreasonable man, after all. (This is an AU where Carlo never went to Max, if you know the original)
CW: creepy whumper, pet whump/slavery, carewhumper depending on your definition of that word, discussion of dubcon touching
The very next day, Martin Olsen sent a Lyft to the house to bring Carlo to the office. It was bold, handing him that kind of dizzying, dangerous freedom on day two. But he had no doubt no pet of Erik’s (and for eight years, at that) would be as reckless as to bolt at the first sight of an open door.
He was right.
“You should’ve grabbed a coat, love,” Martin said, beckoning the boy into his office. His sales support girl, Melinda, eyed Carlo up and down from her desk, guessing his measurements. He’d told her to order clothes for his new pet whenever she had a moment, and now she had the model to go off.
He sat the boy on the other side of his desk. It was dark and drizzly, looking more like evening outside his tenth story office window than midday.
He wanted to get a feel for this boy. He’d skimmed his file last night, but it had only left him more of a mystery.
“I thought we could talk during office hours,” he said, sitting at his desk. He closed his laptop and crossed one leg over the other. “Please, try to relax. You look like you’re getting your first performance review. I thought you’d be more comfortable having this preliminary discussion in public than in private.”
Carlo sat further back in the chair, suddenly self conscious of how stiffly he’d been sitting. His hair was brushed soft and pushed out of his face, and he wore a baby blue sweater that once belonged to Martin’s now college-aged son, Blake. Its cable knit neck was too big for Carlo, which Martin found oddly endearing.
“I’ve already agreed to take care of you, Carlo,” he said carefully, in the same voice he used to commence a meeting. “That’s an agreement between myself and Erik. That will never be up for discussion. I will always feed you, I will always give you a bed. You’ll have access to medical and dental care.” Martin smiled softly. “You can’t lose any of that.”
“But that’s all my agreement is, with your master. There is no agreement, currently, between you and me. It’s a blank page. And by the looks of you, you’re feeling a little lost.”
Rain began to pat the window. Carlo looked out past him at the winter grey of downtown, the glass faced buildings reflecting the dark sky. He twisted his ring and pinky fingers in his other hand, like he could wring something out.
“So I’d like to have a conversation. Nothing binding, nothing final. Just a conversation. I’d like to know what it is you want, Carlo. Other than to go home, which I can’t give to you, for reasons outside of everyone’s control. What is it you want? What is it that you don’t want?”
Carlo looked back to him, processing. He was wary, but curious.
Martin sensed the barriers the boy had were mostly out of fear of being tricked, or hurt. Once he got through those, there would be nothing left but the cotton candy insides of a hopeful little pet.
“How about a word. What’s a word that comes to mind? Something you want? Remember, this is preliminary. Throw something at the wall, see if it sticks.”
Carlo swallowed. “Uhm. Warm?” he offered.
Martin tilted his head. He knew Erik employed sleep deprivation to get his way, but he wasn’t aware of this one. “Very interesting. Warm. That can be arranged. Anything else?”
Carlo licked his pretty lips, unsure.
“How about something a little less open ended? Just your gut reaction to whatever I say. Yes no or maybe.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you want to travel with me?”
“Maybe.”
“Do you enjoy being alone?”
“Yes, Sir. Some-sometimes.”
“Do you like to be shown off?”
He hesitated. This was a dangerous question, and they both knew it. Martin let him off the hook and kept going.
“Do you like having assigned tasks each day?”
“If.. they’re doable. Yes. I like to work, Sir.”
Again, interesting.
“Would you call yourself shy?”
“…Yes.”
“Do you like or dislike being touched?”
Carlo studied the slow line of midday headlights that crept along the rainy highway, westbound towards the mountains. He opened his mouth, but hesitated.
“I guess that one deserves some qualifiers. Do you like being touched by your master?”
“Yes.”
“By Keith?”
“No.”
“By strangers?”
“No.”
He said it in emptier, almost breathless way that hinted just how much he did not like the idea of that.
“By me?”
Carlo gave him his full gaze now, heat creeping visibly into his cheeks.
“How about on the hair? Or the cheek? Don’t take it further than it’s meant.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “I think so.”
“Mm. Answer this; do you want me to update you on Erik’s situation as it unfolds? Or is that salt in the wound?”
Carlo looked back out the window at the highway. His throat bobbed and his eyes got glassy. He blinked, ashamed and trying very hard to regain his composure. “I’m sorry. It’s not... I’m sorry.”
“Hush. I’ll never hold loyalty against you, Carlo.”
He sniffed, his hands shaking as he swiped at his eyes.
“I want to know,” he said in a voice tight with tears. “I’d rather just know.”
Martin nodded slowly. “Then you’ll know. I’ll keep you apprised better than the gossip you’ll see on network news, I promise.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You have such pretty manners. I’d never have guessed you so much as set foot in a state home.”
Carlo looked up at him, caught off guard. His eyelashes were wet with tears, his lips parted. God, what a find. A state home. Imagine.
“Erik sent me your file. I skimmed it. It’s very impersonal, don’t worry. It doesn’t tell me anything about you other than where you’ve been.”
He looked like he wanted to put his heels on the chair and wrap his arms around his knees, but was too polite to do it. If it were not for the clear walls of this sleekly modern corporate office, he’d call the boy over right now and ask him if he liked to be held.
“I’ve got lunch on the way. I ordered sandwiches from the deli right around the corner, it’ll be here any minute. Will you eat with me before I send you home? They’re delicious.”
Carlo gave him a genuine little smile, though it was dogged on the corners with embarrassment from crying in his office.
“Excellent. And one more thing I want you to just tuck away in your brain, alright? You’re not here because I owed Erik a favor. He reached out to me because he knew I’d want you. I’d asked about you before. And I don’t tell you that to alarm you, though I do hope to flatter you, at some point. I tell you so you know you’re wanted here, with me. You’re not a favor. Don’t be afraid to ask for things. Don’t be afraid to occupy space.”
Carlo listened, the wariness in his eyes more of a lean hunger now. For a moment all they did was look at one another.
“Mr Olson?”
“Martin.”
“Martin. May I ask what you do? What is this office?”
Martin laughed. “Of course. I’ve seen your file but you’ve no idea of mine. We’re logistics. Trucks, shipping. In a nutshell- how everything gets where it’s going in the world. I’ve been here ten years.”
Carlo eyed the photos on his desk, the one of him and his two kids when they were younger, the one of he and Traci he hadn’t the heart to take down yet because they’d had such a good time in Amsterdam that weekend.
“May I ask something else?”
“Anything.”
“Do you think he’s gonna go to prison? Not just jail, I know he’s gonna go to jail but… get sentenced for a long time, I mean?”
Martin sighed, steepling his hands on his desk. “It’s possible, yeah. I don’t know what you likely know, and I don’t want to. The less I know the better. But from what they felt confident enough to charge him with… it could go either way.”
And now for the sugarcoat, for the homesick little pet in his office. “I know he’s gotten himself some world class lawyers. They’ll help.”
Carlo’s eyes were trained on the carpet, faraway. “I always thought he’d just leave the country,” he said absently. “And that he’d take me with him. Oh. Did he send you my passport?”
Martin nodded. Perhaps more than cotton candy inside.
“I guess that was pretty stupid to think. You can probably be extradited for what he did from just about anywhere, right?”
Martin smiled sadly. “I’d have to brush up. Look- food’s here. Get the door for Melinda, will you doll?”
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A vaguely jazzy-sounding remix of a pop Christmas song was playing softly, and lights were glinting off an abundance of cheap silver and lilac garlands. Plucky plastic white pines adorned with sparkly rainbow-shaped ornaments dotted the entire place. It was a relatively classy establishment eleven months of the year, and Steve thought that the exception was quite adorable. There was something comforting in tacky, especially in a gay bar.
He immediately spotted Bucky sitting at the counter. He chuckled at himself, at the way his chest still did that glowy, squeezy feeling it did when he saw Bucky after some time, or even after no time at all. Sam had teased him on the way back from the trip, guessing exactly what had Steve excited like a puppy at the prospect of going home. It had been just a few days, really, and he knew Bucky was comfortably home in New York, enjoying leisure time. But he still couldn’t wait to be with him again.
Bucky looked so soft in his loose hair bun and cozy knit sweater, sipping something creamy-colored from a margarita glass, and Steve lingered for a few moments to observe him, feeling a warmth in his chest that wasn’t from stepping indoors from the winter open air, and eventually reached the counter.
“What’s a guy as handsome as you doing all alone in here?” he asked as he sat on the stool next to Bucky.
A brief flash of surprise appeared on Bucky’s features, and then a smile bloomed across his face, lightening up his eyes, and it was the most beautiful sight in the world.
“Oh, my husband is on a work trip,” he replied with a delighted grin.
“And leaves you here on your own? So close to Christmas? You should dump him.”
Bucky laughed. “Maybe I should, but he’s kind of a big important guy, and it’s kinda sexy.”
Steve chuckled. “Is that so?”
“M-mh,” Bucky nodded, wrapping his arms around him. “Also, I don’t actually care about Christmas, but don’t tell him this, ‘cos he’s a romantic and loves all this stuff.”
“Mmm,” Steve just replied. It wasn’t completely true that Bucky didn’t care about Christmas, because he might be Jewish, but he was like a cat, and shiny ornaments and twinkly lights had him enchanted. Those and the food. In a different world, a lifetime ago, he’d help Steve’s mom with putting up the decorations, claiming it was to take the burden off Steve, who at that point of the season would inevitably be waging a war against his lungs, but the truth was that he was ecstatic about it.
“So how was the trip?”
Steve smiled. “It was alright. Sam did most of the talking, which is good, he’s more diplomatic than I am.”
“Diplomatic is not a word I’d use for either you or Sam, but a rabid raccoon would be more diplomatic than you, so I can believe it.”
Steve chuckled as he sank a hand in the hair just above Bucky’s neck. “You’re beautiful.”
Bucky beamed softly and leaned forward to press his lips against Steve’s. Bucky was still a bit cautious with showing affection in public, but in gay bars he let all his guards down, just like they’d always done. Steve, on the other hand, had the constant urge to just be as obnoxious as possible with their affection, which was probably further proof that there was something irrevocably broken with his sense. But there was something inside of him that screamed to shove their love in the world’s face, to force people to see them. He felt a little glee at paparazzi pictures, even if he wasn’t supposed to, but inside of him a little voice said, look at us, look at us, see us, see, see .
“You still have things to do before the holidays, or—?”
“Nope. I’m free to give my full, undivided attention to this really hot guy I know.”
Bucky grinned. “Lucky him.”
Steve pressed a gentle kiss against his mouth.
“What are you drinking?”
“I asked the bartender to make me something yummy and creamy and christmassy.”
“You asked for eggnog in a margarita glass?”
“So? It’s Christmas. No point in living in a majority Christian country if I cannot take advantage of it.”
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