#after he's flat out told he's being a creep | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

catiuskaa · 3 months

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need you to [Lee] Know.

SUMMARY: minho loves you: to him, it’s as clear as water. Its only after he finds out that you’re starting to doubt it—he needs you to know just how much.

REQUESTED! here by an anonnie. I hope you like it, pookie, ‘cause I had fun doing this! <3

CW: slight hurt/comfort if you squint, but it’s just fluffy fluffy lino being really down bad and not knowing how to grasp it tbh which just gives me my serotonin dosis for the rest of the month lol

WC: 1.2k

A/N: also omfg kats posting two requests on the same day? that’s right baby, look at me go! 🤩🤩🤩

[🔅★🌼★🔅]

Minho was not the type to show his affection.

He comes off more like a shy kitten that slowly gets used to you, your sweet smell and how soft your touch feels, and then slowly opens up.

“But, uh… can I be real with you for a sec?”

It’s a feminine voice with a strong accent. He can hear it comming from your room, and the slight glitchiness of it makes it obvious that it’s a phone call set on speaker.

“Sure.” He can almost see you shrug, but he just closes the main door as soft as he can, pleading for the cats to stay silent for a little bit longer.

Minho can’t exactly place together why he’s overhearing your phone call. He knows who you’re calling, he can recognize Chan’s sister by her tone. But still, he keeps quiet, gently placing his bag down and silently taking his shoes off.

“I just— and don’t get me wrong, but, your boyfriend kinda seems… bored of you.”

What? Minho has to hold back a scoff, remaining as still as a statue next to the front door. He’s waiting for you to deny it.

“You think so?”

And then, he frowns, because you didn’t. Instead, your tone sounded hesitant. Dubious.

As if you weren’t sure if Minho loved you.

“You say he keeps cancelling your plans together. He has stopped making time for you. Like, girl, you can’t remember when was the last time he told you he loved you.”

Hannah pauses, and that only makes it worse, because it lets every word sink in.

“I uh, well. I ain’t gonna say that he should throw flowers at you every single second, but, uh, you know.”

He can only hear you groan loudly, almost picturing that cute motion you usually did when he meaningly teased you, taking your hair and covering your face with it.

“Can’t say anything for sure with him,” Hannah adds. “But, just by what you’re saying…”

Minho’s heart clenches tightly in his chest. He doesn’t want to keep hearing this... this nonsense. God, he loves you. And you… can’t see it? Frowning, he starts walking to your room, but his movements end in a halt, his hand just above the doorknob, threatening to grasp it and fully open the door.

“Girl, it’s gotta be late down there. Sorry this whole call was about me.” Your chuckle comes off slightly dry. “I’ll talk to you later, ‘kay? Go get some good sleep.” Your tone just screams how bad you’re feeling, and it just makes his chest swell with guilt that slowly creeps up his body.

Maybe he had been taking you for granted?

He opens the door as soon as you press the red button, sighing loudly after ending the call. When you see him, you jump in your place, startled by his presence, and you stand up awkwardly.

“Minho!” You say in a squirm. He can’t help but cringe slightly.

“No.” His tone sounds childish, like a petty toddler who didn’t want to eat the carrots in their lunch.

You frown slowly, the slightly wary grimace melting on your face, allowing a soft confusion to step in.

“No what?” You mutter.

He walks to you slowly, and grabs your hand, taking it to his chest, pressing it flat against his clothed skin, over his heart. You can feel his heartbeat, a not-too-slow rhythm: thump, thump, thump.

“Call me by a pet name. Any pet name.” He says, his tone equally firm and soft. “Call me by a pet name and say you love me.”

He’s serious, but god, so fucking nervous. His brain is slowly melting away because he’s so bad with words and he isn’t sure any action could be enough. He’s already blushing.

“I, huh… I love you, jagi.” You mumble, still confused.

And even if you don’t say it as fondly as always, or if your smile isn’t beaming like how it usually did, you can feel his heartbeat quickening.

“You can feel it, right?” His eyes are soft and worried.

Oh, God. You just know you’ve gotta be pouting. It’s hard to react with words, and the only thing you can fathom doing is linking your arms behind his nape and sinking your face on the crook of his neck.

“Min, I’m so sorry.”

“N-no, kitten.” He mumbles, hugging you tightly too. “I am the one who’s sorry.”

He breathes in, drowning in your soft fragrance. Home. It’s you, it’s warm, and he loves it.

He loves you.

So, he says it. He has to say it. He can’t not say it.

“I love you.”

And it feels so good to let it out that he chuckles. He has to say it again. “I love you.” And again. “God, I love you.” Just once more. “I love you so much.” He’s giggling like a fool, but he’s a fool in love, and that makes him blush even more. “I can’t not love you. Not loving you would turn everyday into Mondays. Like, I can get it tattoed if you want me to. I just. I love you so much that ‘I love you’ can’t even—.”

You move from his shoulder, now facing him, and you cradle his face, pulling him in a kiss that’s so sweet that threatens to give both of you type 1 diabetes.

“Y-you’re crying.” Minho mumbles, softly brushing the stray tears away with his thumb.

“It’s your fault, silly.” You sniff, giggling too. “How can you say stuff like that?”

Your heart is beating like crazy, the butterflies in your stomach are multiplying by seconds and in your cheeks glistens a bright and deep shade of pink.

You want to say it too. But in his own way.

So, you take his hand and settle it on your chest. Right above your heart.

It’s a rapid thump thump thump that Minho feels right away. He can’t help but smile widely.

“I super-mega-love you.” He teases, picking you up in between his arms.

You’re laughing, squirming in his hold.

“Lee Minho! Put me down!”

But he just grips your body tighter to his, and walking as if you weighted nothing, heading towards your bed, plopping you down there.

“Good girl.” He snickers, and you blush even further. Minho takes your chin tenderly and pecks your lips. For a moment, certain kind of idea flashes through his head, but he just kissed you again, following his previous thought.

He opens your closet with a toothy grin, and halfly eyes the window before picking up a random shirt, a grey hoodie that used to be his, a dark skirt and your thigh-high socks, going as far as to the suspenders for you.

He then turns to face you, his eyes glowing. He can’t wait to see you all dolled up. Minho feels like a teenager, and he loves it.

“You have twenty minutes.”

You blink at him, and you can’t help but smile, confused.

“I’m taking your cute ass to a date.”

It may not be an instant fix to the struggles to your relationship, but as you two walk down the beach, looking for colourful rocks that match each other’s eye colour, you know that he’s worth fighting for.

Regarding Minho, he happily hums to himself, eyes glued to your figure as you cackle and run in the beach, as you look behind you and giggle at the prints your boots leave in the humid sand.

He smiles, running towards you, tackling you and holding you in his arms.

He’s not letting go anytime soon.

~Kats, who always struggles to choose a picture for the fics because istg lino looks good in every single moment!!

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maryangelex · 8 months

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Home is the Feeling of You

John Price x Reader

Summary: You’re Price’s fiancé back home and it’s been months since you’ve seen him. He’s been on deployment and days have been getting lonelier the more days pass. Until you get home one night from work to a more than pleasant surprise.

Warnings/Tags: civilian!reader, fiancé!reader, creampie, domesticity, domestic!john price, fluff to smut, praise kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, masturbation, (light?) breeding kink, phone sex, spit as lube

A/N: so here’s the anticipated civilian!reader fic! I’m just a simp for this man being a husband or anything domestic about him. Enjoy!!! ;)

You were exhausted from work; feet swollen from being in heels all day, muscles tense and eyes burning with the desperate need to be closed and drifted to sleep. You were on your way home but weren’t too eager to get there, if you were being honest.

Your home felt cold and empty despite your best efforts to make it a cozy abode for you and John. But it was hard to feel the slightest bit of warmth in it whenever he was deployed. He had been gone for months now, you had lost count of how many since every day that passed without him felt like an eternity.

You two tried to keep in contact as much as possible. He called you nearly every day, as best he could; sometimes the calls would last seconds other times you managed to get half an hour with him to vent and catch up.

You felt bad every time you complained about your day, though, since he was in quite literally a battlefield most of his time. But he insisted you told him everything, he loved hearing you complain about mundane things, hearing about what shitty thing your boss did, or about your coworker’s crummy love life. It made him feel closer to you and gave him a sense of home to listen to you talk about your day.

When John would say things like “I miss you, love, I’ll be home in no time” or “I can’t wait to kiss that pretty face”, you couldn’t help but feel a fire kindling in your chest. It made you feel warm inside to hear him say that because you knew it was true; John wasn’t a man who lied, he carried his heart on his sleeve for you.

And when he wasn’t being tender and sweet, telling you how much he missed you and loved you, he’d let you know how desperate and needy he was for you. He’d tell you how the sound of your voice alone made his cock twitch in his pants. How the hand that wasn’t holding the phone had slid down his trousers, slowly stroking himself through his boxers.

You’d press your thighs together, listening to his husky voice become almost a whisper on the phone. His breath audible through the phone, letting out soft needy whimpers and promises about what he’d do to you the second he got home. You’d let yourself indulge and return the favor to him by telling him how you were wearing whatever lacy panties he’d bought you and how you were writhing in your shared bed as you pleasured yourself to the sound of his voice.

Still, those steamy calls between the two of you could only do so much for you. It only momentarily veered the loneliness away. You wanted him in your bed with you, wanted to have him watch football games on the couch, wanted to have date nights with him every Friday again, wanted his presence to warm up your flat and make it a home.

Once you got home the sun had already set. You took the stairs up to your and John’s shared flat, and with a sigh of relief, you pushed the door open. You walked in and closed the door behind you, dropped your keys on the tablet at your entryway, and stepped out of your shoes. Your feet touched the cold floor under you and the sensation drew another content sigh out of you.

You noticed the light in your kitchen was turned on. Maybe you left it on this morning after making breakfast without noticing, you were in a rush after all. As you approached the kitchen you heard the sound of something sizzling in a pan. Your heart skipped a beat, a smile creeping on your face at the realization that John was home. When you saw him there, standing in front of the stove with his back to you, you were filled with glee. Your stomach fluttered like it did the first time you two met when you bumped into him at that bookstore and almost spilled coffee all over him. When you first locked eyes with his, those glimmering blue pools.

He glanced over his shoulder and flashed you a smile before turning back to whatever he was cooking so diligently.

“Welcome home, hun” he greeted “‘m makin’ us dinner since I knew you’d be beat from work”

You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. Your lips pressed against the muscles on his back, peppering kisses on the center of his spine, his shoulders, the nape of his neck. Your arms travelled up the front of his body, feeling the muscles on his chest and abdomen shift as he moved his hands whilst he cooked. You hugged him tightly, squeezing him as if to make sure he was really standing in front of you. As if the tighter you squeezed the more he materialized in your apartment.

“Not too tight, love, you’re squeezin’ the wind outta me,” he chuckled.

“I just missed you so much, John,” you confessed with another tender kiss to his back.

He hummed in acknowledgment with a smile still stuck to his face. He plated the meal for both of you; salmon and stir fried veggies. You released your arms from him painstakingly and grabbed a couple of wine glasses to pair with your meal. John took your plates to the couch while you brought the wine.

You collapsed down on the couch beside John, releasing another heavy sigh as your muscles sank on the plush material. John had set the plates on your coffee table along with the glasses, and handed you a fork whilst encouraging you with a gentle chuckle and a “Eat up, love.”

You sat up on the couch, turning to look at him. Both of your hands rose up to him and cupped his face lovingly. You looked deeply into his eyes; those eyes that always sucked you in, made you feel safe and loved. He looked at you with so much adoration, like he was silently telling you how happy he was to see you, be home with you. You leaned forward and clashed your lips with his, not pulling back for a minute and savoring the sensation of his lips against yours, how his mustache and beard scratched your soft skin. The two of you held your breath as you held each other with your lips, feeling as if pulling back was not an option. When you finally released each other, you sighed, your foreheads leaning against each other as you rubbed the tip of your nose against his.

“Missed you, hon,” he whispered, giving you another kiss, this one more chaste and playful than the prior one. His hand patted your knee, “C’mon, food’s gettin’ cold and I’m bloody starvin’. ”

You giggled as you both dug in. One of the things you missed the most about John was how well he cooked, his meals were hearty and comforting just like his presence. The two of you enjoyed your food as you caught up with him on everything you hadn’t mentioned in your calls these past few months. John spoke much less given the nature of his work, he much more enjoyed to listen to you, and he did so attentively.

At the end of your meal there was only the wine to sip on as you enjoyed each other’s company. The TV played quietly in the background. You were laying on the couch, your torso reclining on the arm rest as your feet sat on John’s lap next to you. He caressed the smooth skin of your legs with his big hands, gently squeezing the muscles on them every now and then. You nudged him with your foot, silently instructing him to keep up the massage. He took your foot in his hands, they engulfed him completely as he squeezed and rubbed them with his palms and thumbs. You winced at the feeling, making him stop and look at you.

“That alright?” He inquired, you gave him a nod in response.

“Just sore from standing all day”

“Let me take care of it” he grinned, his hands returning to work on your feet. His touch traveled up your leg, arriving at your calf, rubbing the tender muscle and eliciting a groan from you. John was enjoying the sounds he drew from you. His hands were getting more adventurous, sliding up past your knee and kneading at your thick thighs now. You gave him a grin and a cheeky look; he returned it.

“What’s crossing your dirty little mind, sweet girl?”

“Same thing as yours, hun”

His hands rubbed your thighs, putting pressure on them as he grabbed and massaged the bulks of muscle and flesh. You bit your lip as his hand wandered under your skirt. He was enjoying himself seeing your expressions shift and your cheeks flush red as he touched you. You reached one hand over to caress his forearm with your finger tips as he slid his hand further up your inner thigh, and your legs spread slightly as a quiet invitation.

“Needy girl,” he teased.

“C’mere already, John, will ya?” you quipped. John complied with your demand, as if waiting to hear you say it, like he needed your permission. He shifted on the couch, moving the leg in his hands to his other side so he could sit between your legs. He grabbed both of your thighs on each side, lightly sliding you down so you were flush with him. You could feel the bulge in his jeans pressing against your clothed heat. You teased him by rolling your hips against him a bit, to which he responded to with a groan and a squeeze to your thighs.

He bunched up your skirt to reveal your panties. His fingertips tracing the soft material over your hips and pelvis. Your hands rested on each side of your head as you watched him with lustful eyes. Now his hands were grazing over your mons, lowering to the crotch of your panties that was already saturated with your juices. His touch made you blush even more, you were embarrassed by how easily the man could make you wet, as if it was the first time he’s ever touched you.

“My girl’s so eager, look at how wet you are” he grinned, his voice low and sultry. He grabbed the hem of your panties and tugged them down, slowly sliding them past your legs and then discarding them. One of his hands palmed your exposed cunt. You wiggled your hips against it and let out a needy whimper.

“John, don’t tease me” you scolded him in a soft voice, more desperation than anything.

He hummed at your comment, sliding his fingers up and down your folds, while his other hand went back to massaging your thigh. He observed as his fingers worked between your folds, his eyes fixated on your glistening pussy. It made his mouth water at the sight of his fiancé being so needy for him, it made him think how much he really missed having you in his grasp. He placed his hand on your mons, thumb reaching down to rub tight circles around your yearning clit. It made you moan to finally feel his touch on your sensitive bud.

He cursed under his breath at the sound, his cock twitching eagerly in the confines of his jeans. You reached one of your hands to stroke him through the rough fabric, tracing the print of his dick.

“Please, John,” you begged “I want you already”

John chuckled, a hint of mischief behind it. “I know, love, I know…but let me take my time to enjoy you, yeah?”

You pouted but gave him an abiding nod. He took his hand off you, making you whimper and your clit pulsate at the loss. He shifted on the couch again, now kneeling in front of it as he pulled your legs again to face him. You were hanging off the edge of the couch in front of him with your legs draped over each of his shoulders, his face inches from your heat.

“Fuck, I missed this pretty pussy,” his breath fanned against your sensitive cunt, and you were so desperate for him to devour you already.

He stuck his tongue out and licked a stipe up your pussy, the taste of you making him moan and roll his eyes back. Your lips parted as you let out a sigh full of relief. Your hands pulled your skirt higher to watch him savor you. He lapped at your pussy, tongue flat licking from your hole to your clit. His hands gripped your thighs as they closed around his head. Your eyes would not break from the sight of him eating you out like it was his last meal on earth.

His lips closed around your swollen clit and sucked on it, making the muscles on your thighs twitch and a whimper fall from your lips. He alternated between encapsulating your clit in his mouth and licking tight circles over it with the pointed tip of his tongue. He was making you a mess of moans and whimpers as your hands clutched the material of your skirt.

He reached his arms under your thighs and over your pelvis; one splayed out and held you still while the other spread your lips apart, exposing your clit fully for him to once again abuse it with his mouth. His lips wrapped around it, sucking and tugging at the bundle of nerves, making your eyes roll back and your hands fly to his hair, releasing a moan with his name attached to it.

You received a moan into your pussy from him in return. He latched his mouth onto your clit, lips sucking and massaging it. His hands now gripped your hips, grinding them against his face as he clung his mouth onto your pussy.

You felt your orgasm pooling in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes were so far into the back of your skull you were seeing stars. Your mouth chanted John’s name loudly like a prayer for salvation, pleading him to let you cum.

He nodded his head in unison with your hips as he licked your pussy, tongue giving special attention to your clit. He whimpered into it in desperation to feel you cum all over his face.

“C’mon baby I know you’re close, be good and cum for me” he mumbled against your cunt, practically begging you.

The grip on his hair was unrelenting, your back arching off the couch and hips slamming into his mouth. Your orgasm surged within you, ready to erupt like a volcano of pleasure. You missed him so fucking much. He knew exactly how to please, always has. You rode his face as you came, your hot liquid leaking out of you and onto his face, coating his beard in it. You were twitching in his grip, your hips stilling and mouth agape as a choked out moan emerged from you.

John’s grip on your hips was literally bruising and you couldn’t be happier to have a reminder of his return home later. He slowed down, lapping at your vulva and kissing your soaked pussy, making sure to savor every bit of you.

He looked up at you, sitting straight up with your legs on his shoulders, his eyes gazing at you lovingly as you still panted and came off your high.

“You’re gonna give me one more, right love?” He said peppering sloppy kisses in your inner thigh. You nodded your head drunkenly. He reached up to your skirt, finally pulling it off you, as you worked on unbuttoning your blouse as best you could with your clumsy, shaky hands. But John was too impatient; he clutched the fabric and tore the buttons apart with ease like he was tearing a piece of paper. He chuckled at your surprised expression, he knew he’d get an earful from you later when you weren’t too hazy to scold him.

“I’ll get you a new one, sweetheart,” he said as his hands found your breasts, massaging them before unclipping your bra and tossing it away. He stood up in front of you now, your legs around his hips, and he took in the sight of his soon-to-be-wife all flustered and naked for him. That body he admired so much, that soft supple skin he loved to bite and caress, those perfect breasts and that pretty pussy that loved his cock so much.

He unbuttoned his jeans and tugged down his boxers, cock springing out free and swollen. The sight of it made your pussy flutter, ready to take him in finally. You were aching for him, already felt yourself aroused and ready for another orgasm from him.

He cupped your mouth in one of his hands, silently instructing you to spit on it for him, to which you complied. He brought the hand to his cock, pumping it a few times and lubricating it with the spit you provided for him. He aligned his fat tip with your entrance, slowly pushing it in at a burning pace. You moaned at the sensation, it had been too long since you had taken in John's impressive size and you were not as accustomed to it. You had almost forgotten how fucking good it felt to have his full length in you up to the hilt.

He cursed under his breath, "Fuckin' 'ell, love, I missed how good your pussy takes my cock", his hand briefly caressed your cheek when the base of his cock was flush against your pussy. His hands gripped under your thighs, his knees were on the edge of the couch and he folded you into a mating press position. His cock was buried impossibly deep inside of you, you could feel him in your cervix.

John began to move at a slow pace, his cock sliding in and out of you slowly, making obscene squelching noises that echoed throughout your apartment. "S'tight and wet f'me, darling", he mumbled. He gradually picked up the pace, his hands held onto the back of the couch while yours held your own legs up and open for him.

His pace became harsher and faster, pulling moans from the two of you. His balls slapped against your ass as he thrust into you, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix making you almost scream with pleasure.

"Ah, John..." you started, barely able to gather words to say as you looked at his face with wide eyes, your pupils blown, "J-John, you fuck me so good...I missed how good you fuck me"

Your words made him feral, making him pound into you. He watched your expression hungrily; lips parted shining with drool, cheeks bright red and burning, and your pretty eyes glossy with lust as they looked up at him.

"Fuck, baby, fuck..." he groaned as he leaned back, sitting up straight and grabbing your waist, slamming you against his cock as you held your legs open for him still "wanna see you with a big round belly under your pretty white dress... wanna fill you up with my cum, sweet girl"

He pressed a hand against your abdomen, "Feel that? y'like feelin' my cock inside you?" The pressure of his hand mixed with his words and relentless pounding made you mewl, your throat hoarse from all the noises John was drawing out of you.

"Y-yeah, John, feels s'good," you whimpered watching his dick bulge within you. You felt another orgasm surging like a wave in your stomach, your walls pulsated and clenched around John's throbbing cock. He felt you close, he knew you were about to cum when your cunt gripped his length relentlessly. He brought two fingers up to his mouth and wet them, then placed them on your pussy, rubbing circles rhythmically with every thrust.

"Cum for me, darling, cum around my cock," he said breathlessly, his eyes fixated on your face as he fucked you and rubbed your swollen bud.

You were euphoric, the overstimulation pushing you over the edge. A couple of more thrusts and attention to your clit and you were gone. Your legs twitched and your body convulsed as you came, gripping John's cock with your walls tightly. You cried out, tears streaming from your eyes.

It took everything in John to not let himself cum right then and there, the feeling of your walls constricting him almost pushed him over the edge with you. But he had other plans; he withdrew his cock from you briefly as he took you in his arm effortlessly, flipping the two of you around. You were shocked and puzzled at the quickness of it, now you were sitting on John's lap all fucked out and out of breath. He had you straddle him and you hold up yourself the best you could, with whatever strength your muscles had.

"J-John, please, I-I can't" you begged, holding onto him and already feeling his tip against your tender entrance again.

"Shh, s'alright, hon, you can do it, I know you can," he cooed, his lips against your ear as he slipped his cock back into you, "just can't get enough o' you"

He held you with one arm firmly around your waist and his other hand gripping your ass, his lips kissing your neck and coaxing you with praises and encouragement as he sunk you down on his cock. You moaned at the intrusion, you were so sensitive it was maddening. Your body was limp as you rested on him, arms lax around his shoulders.

You shut your eyes and let him fuck himself into you, letting him overtake your sense once again. He pounded up into you, holding you in place as his hips thrust up into your abused cunt. You were a mess of moans and whines as he chased his own high.

He was grunting and cursing under his breath, "My pretty fuckin' wife, my girl...takin' my cock so well...bein' a good girl lettin' me fuck you senseless." He was close, his thrusts getting sloppy and desperate. He hoisted your body up, grabbing your hair to make you look at him. You were cockdrunk, out of your mind, but you felt a third orgasm about to hit you like a truck again. John admired your dazed expression, his blue eyes now black with pleasure, he panted exhaustedly and full of desperation to empty his balls in you, fill you up like he said.

He took your face in his hand and clashed your lips together, moaning into your mouth as his hips stilled and the sensation of his cum flooding your insides made you cum with him. Both of you moaning into each other's mouths, your cheeks once again saturated with more tears. You pulled away from each other, panting out of breath with your sweaty foreheads resting against each other. You felt John's hot cum travel out of you between your legs. The hand that gripped your hair now softened, patting the crown of your head and smoothing out your hair. He looked into your eyes, admiring your post-orgasm face, basking in your beauty and in the afterglow of his own orgasm.

You smiled at him breathlessly, exhaustion all over your expression, you kissed him once more, this time more tenderly, putting all the love for him that filled your heart into your kiss. You pulled away and cupped his face, the two of you held each other, sweaty bodies against each other.

"Welcome home, John."

A/N: y'all... i did not intend for this to be so long again!!! but if you loved it and made it this far, let me know!!! thnx for reading ;)

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on-leatheredwings · 2 months

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Dirty Laundry (18+)

Yandere! Dick Grayson x (Fem) Reader

> romantic, 18+ > Request: I think Dick would be a major creep and your rules didn't say anything about no nsft, so can I ask for a fic with this scenario: Dick stealing reader's underwear and using the dirty ones to get off while cumming into the clean ones. And putting the "clean" ones back into her dresser hoping she doesn't notice the stains and wears them? Thanks! > a/n: …………………………………… Ohhhh, so you’re crazy. Meaning, you’re just like me . thanks for the dick request i want to write him better/more ;u; had fun writing this! > tw: someone cumming in your panties without your consent or knowledge, so sexual assault. As well as yandere-typical thoughts and behaviors. > Word count: 1847 (Ugh this was supposed to be like 3 paragraphs max but i’m me.)

Dick’s your best friend.

… You guess.

He was new to Blüdhaven, and you two just seemed to keep bumping into each other in the rare times you left your apartment. Might as well get to know the guy. You didn’t have much choice in the matter, once he attached to you. And that was okay, because you liked him back and, frankly, were in quite desperate need for friends. The man currently lounges on your bed, sifting through a magazine while you’re mixing audio for this indie rock cover band that’s commissioned you. That’s your side hustle and passion, when you’re not being a work-from-home researcher for S.T.A.R. Labs.

You’re an hour into your work and Dick Grayson is lounging on his spot on your bed, because he has claimed a spot at this point. All is well with the world. Then, your stomach lets out a groan, and so do you.

A pair of eyes, all ocean blue and twinkling, slide over to you without a second’s hesitation. You meet them, unblinking and unperturbed. Does he know he’s kind of a freak? Being all light-eyed and adoring?

You stand up without fanfare, removing your headphones from your ears and letting them sit around the column of your neck.

“I’m going to get food from the place next door.”

You yawn and walk away from your desk. That usually was much harder for you, but Grayson’s presence in your life had made it more of a priority for you to care for yourself. “Don’t touch anything,” you say, plainly and without venom. Without another word, you’re gone, and Dick launches up from his seat once he hears the front door to your flat close.

He told himself he was going to do this today. He told himself, and he is a man of his word.

He opens the bottom drawer of your dresser, where he knows you keep your clean pairs of underwear. Then he trespasses into your closet, where he knows you keep your laundry basket.

Dick knows where a lot of things are in your apartment, and he has made it his job to know every inch of your bedroom specifically. When you leave the room, like times like this, he enjoys going around and familiarizing himself with everything. And he’s planted cameras, of course. He does leave your en-suite restroom alone, an act he pats himself on the back for. You deserved your privacy, after all. To his disappointment, you do tend to masturbate exclusively in the shower, and he must tide himself over with the audio his cameras pick up, rather than visuals.

After a moment’s hesitation, Dick buries his hands into your laundry basket. These were the things… you wore. His eyes twinkle as he smiles. Still, he had no time to waste. While often busy, the Chinese place you were at was also known for its fast service. Dick grabs the first pair of panties he sees: blue lace-trim, white in color, with blue gingham. You’re so cute.

He sits in your closet, back to your hamper, slides off the jeans that look really good on him which he hopes you’ve noticed. All of these actions are done a little clumsier than normal because his pulse roars in his ears.

He lets his head fall backward, and he begins pumping his cock with your panties in that same hand. He thinks of your face, your body, your hands. He really likes your hands, so adept and amble, always flying across a keyboard or strumming a guitar. He thinks about the honest things you say, truthful but usually with tact. He thinks about your eyes crinkling when he’s being a show-off, and your pretty lips that you’re usually wetting with your tongue rather than finally just getting lip balm.

At this point, Dick is a wreck, eyes glazed over and only half-open. His eyelashes flutter as he struggles to keep them open. He goes slack-jawed, pink lips only a little swollen from his biting down on them. He’s about to finish, he knows he is. It’s building in him like the birth of a tidal wave. Pre-cum and his sweat have soiled your gingham pair, and he looks at the very plain pair of navy blue boyshorts in his free hand, clenched into a fist. He finds himself blushing. Your underwear is so… you, and it’s hilarious that holding them in his hand is what is flustering him so much. Considering what he’s doing.

Dick whimpers, a sound that’s both embarrassing and utterly liberating. Pleasure pulses in between his legs, his back shoots into an arch, his balls hike up to the base of his cock. He cums with a raspy cry, right onto the crotch of your boyshorts. He had initially planned to just finish anywhere on the fabric, but at the last second decided to cum where your cunt would touch. He’s kind of romantic like that. (He’s also kind of a pervert, and he knows that.)

He pants in the afterglow of his orgasm, cheeks painted over with rosy pink. He tosses your white pair back into its home, the laundry basket.

His calloused fingers reach up for the corner of his mouth, which had been agape this whole while.

… Was he drooling?

Dick robotically proceeds to rub his semen into your underwear until it's just a dark stain. He pulls his dark jeans from the pool of black denim they formed at his ankles, he runs his fingers through his hair at a job well done. He returns your boyshorts to your dresser, neatly folding them like all the rest. And finally, he wipes his mouth. He returns to your bed, and it’s like nothing has happened since you left.

Dick Grayson – Gotham pretty boy, badass superhero – should probably cringe; in any other context, isn’t that so lame…? But considering it was you, honestly, what could he have expected…

You come back into your bedroom, a bag of takeout swinging from your hands. His eyes don’t leave you for an instant.

… You simply have that effect on him.

You stomp through his room until you’re right in front of him, where he pretends to be scrolling on his phone. Your arms are akimbo as you stare down at him, blocking your room’s overhead light with your skull and casting your shadow over him. He looks up and smiles cheekily.

“Alright, Dickard.” Dick’s lips quirk. “Get out. I’m going to shower and change.” Sniffing yourself on the way back, you decided it was high time you did.

Dick’s brain goes a mile a minute. Shower. Change. Underwear? His heart skitters but he doesn’t show it.

“Aw, don’t let me stop you. Feel free,” he teasingly sings.

Your eye twitches and you take it upon yourself to physically move him. Not that you could if he chose to actually resist. You know that he must be strong, stronger than ‘doing acrobatics as a hobby’ must make someone. You’ve caught a peek at his abdomen and biceps now and then. Guy is ripped.

“Go eat,” you order, throwing the takeout into his hand. “I got enough for the both of us.” Why, Dick could twirl his hair and kick his feet right now – despite a prickly exterior, you really were a sweetheart, weren’t you? He refuses to have you pay for him though. He will definitely be returning the favor thricefold.

You successfully shoo the six feet tall model out of your room.

Once he’s out, you take your shower, standing for five minutes in the spray until it grows warm. You think with amusement at the idea of movies and TV making women showering such a sexy, erotic scene. Bitch, you are in here scrubbing pots and pans.

After the job’s done, your feet land on your worn shower mat from college, and pad towards your bedroom once more. You catch a towel on your way there, belatedly remembering that Dick Grayson may still be loitering in your bedroom, and you weren’t too keen on the idea of him seeing your private bits. Warily shifting eyes from behind the door, you see no one’s around.

Knock knock.

“Are you done?”

Dick’s voice from the hallway makes you panic, fearful that he may burst in before you’re ready and presentable.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt a woman while she’s getting ready in her boudoir!“ you yell, hoping some rich person’s instinct suddenly clicks in him. You thought rich men were supposed to be gentlemanly. Really, ever since meeting Dick, who is son to the richest man in the state, you’ve learned rich people all must be whiny, clingy, braggers, show-offs, and sometimes, just plain brats. In your hurry, you swipe a panty from your drawer and slip it on past your thighs. Body still damp from the shower, you don’t notice anything.

The rest of your clothes follow, and you choose to sit back down in your desk chair. You turn back to your double monitor set up, ready to become a screen zombie once more when you remember someone’s waiting for you.

Without turning around, you holler, “Come in.”

Without a moment’s pause, Dick reenters, takeout plated for the both of you in each hand. He places one smoothly in front of you with butler-like precision.

“Your meal, madam,” Dick says in a Parisian accent, and you do smile in amusement. His eyes dilate, but you don’t notice.

“Thank you, my fine sir,” you return, a little embarrassed, accent weak, but willing to keep up the bit.

Dick knows not to disturb you too much while you work, so he wanders away as you slip your headphones over your ears once more. But before returning to His Spot on the bed, he quietly treads to your dresser. He sneaks a glance to make sure you’re still occupied. And you are, that blue wash of light painting your skin.

He pulls out the drawer, and– hhhhh.

He heaves with breath involuntarily, although it’s nearly imperceptible. You do make him slip more than he likes, but he’s experienced. He glances once more to make sure you didn’t hear that, and of course you didn’t. You’re still fiddling in Ableton Live.

He shuts the drawer and stalks to His Spot on the bed, and anyone who knows Dick Grayson would see that he is tense. He is stiff.

And how could he not be? You’re wearing the underwear he had cum on. Did you notice? Is this your way of coming onto him? No, you’re too forward to play games… Something he finds both refreshing and a shame, because he loves games. You simply mustn't have noticed. Regardless, the knowledge fills him with such ecstasy and arousal… and longing.

He eyes you discreetly as his skin reddens. He tries to act natural by eating steaming orange chicken, plucking it from his plate with a chopstick. One day, he’ll have you, in body and soul.

Until then, he can entertain himself with this game, however one-sided.

#yandere batfam #yandere dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #yandere dick grayson x reader #really enjoyed writing a more mellow reader!#mine

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rizsu · 7 months

Text

intended error ! gojo satoru.

sum. co-workers! — following the higher-ups order of a double mission, you make gojo book a room for two at a hotel. gojo sees this as the perfect opportunity.

don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh.

gojo's on the verge of cackling. in order to save himself from a harsh smack on the head, he covers his mouth with his palm. his eyes shift over to you — you're just absolutely hilarious. nothing is funny, yet everything is funny.

the urge to laugh doesn't cease either. his stomach tightens each second he forces himself to not open his mouth.

"this is—" he stops, letting a laugh escape before disguising it as a cough. "AHEM! this is a small ass room."

"don't. i'm going back to the receptionist," you pick up your previously-dropped-in-shock purse to ready yourself for negotiating and complaining.

after being shoved on a twelve-hour flight with gojo, you're not gonna fit yourself on a queen-sized bed with him. maybe you shouldn't have taken on this double mission with him.

"wait," he turns on his heels, grabbing the hem of your shirt. "we can work this out."

you sighed, lifting your purse to your shoulder so you can fold your arms to express disappointment.

"how can we, gojo? that bed can barely fit you — far less for the bathroom."

"i'll take the floor. see? no problem."

"don't be an ass," irritated with his problem solving skills, you revert back to the original plan of meeting the receptionist. only this time gojo won't be able to stop your actions.

he chooses to back away from you. it's totally not because you shot him an ominous glare. he can only hope for the best with the receptionist.

ten-minutes later, you re-enter the room only to be welcomed with an already asleep gojo. there's a high possibility that it's the motherly part of you that's acting right now, but you can't just leave him sprawled out. half his body is on the bed, the other is dangling off the edge. he looks like an abandoned ragdoll.

"psst, gojo," you whispered, gently patting his head.

he doesn't budge.

"hey, gojo," you tried again.

he doesn't move a muscle.

"free all-you-can-eat dinner in thirty-minutes for all new guests."

his eyes automatically open. the pure excitement on his* face ignites a small flame of guilt. you lied, unfortunately, but it was for his own good.

it doesn't take him any longer to realize you told nothing but a sweet lie. this fact is known by his exaggerated groan and turn of his body. now he's face-flat on the pillows.

"is lying all you know?" his muffled voice speaks, though the annoyance isn't missed.

you hum, giving him two pats on the back before gathering your luggage. the noise of your bags aren't unnoticed. the familiar sounds immediately gather his attention to you.

"where are you going?" he asks, running a hand through his bangs.

"i got another room. it's the last one on your left down the hall," you educated him, jiggling your room keys in his direction.

gojo doesn't like this. not at all. this is on the same level of accusing him of murder! the sight of your keys holding another room number introduces pure irritation within his bones. rolling off the bed, gojo takes giant steps to you. once close enough, he snatches the keys when you weren't focused on it.

"where's my pho— HEY!" you gasped at the thief, immediately reaching your hand to take back what's rightfully yours.

"finders keepers, losers weepers," he recites an old saying, raising his arm higher to tease you.

the fight for the keys go on for seven-minutes. it consisted of you jumping like never before and gojo having the time of his life. unlike him, you aren't exactly built for jumping continuously. it was only a matter of time before exhaustion creeps in.

"you tired?" he tilts his head, keeping his eyes on you in case you fall forward. with the way you're hunched over, it's probably best that he moves you to the bed himself.

"c'mere and sit," he orders, positioning one hand on your back as the other holds your shoulder. the keys are still safely secured, though.

gojo's eyes scan your body. just like your case prior, he feels a little guilty for making you jump around. this may explain the sudden switch in his personality at the moment, but those keys will not be given.

"okay, i'm fine now," you inhaled a deep breath, vocally exhaling as you slap your palms together. "my keys, sir."

"what keys?"

"my keys. the one i got like twenty-minutes ago."

"i think i kinda lost it..?"

all hell breaks loose. it didn't take you a second before your voice raised ten octaves higher. gojo mentally prepares himself for the scolding of a life time. even the higher-ups don't scold him the way you do.

"my KEYS, GOJO. I HAVE TO RETURN IT SOON," you begin, eyebrows furrowing at the thought of loosing the keys.

gojo shrugs, "just stay here, then. we can find it later."

"there is no later," you facepalm, desperately trying to settle down.

"there is now! it's late, we need to shower," he claps, standing up and then pulling you up to him.

the look of defeat fuels him. it's satisfying how easy you give up sometimes. a part of him wants to tell you that the keys are in his pocket — too bad that's for "later." right now he can go back to the original plan of sharing a room and one bed with you that was truly not his doing.

#+ rizsu: jujutsu kaisen.#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru drabbles #jjk fluff

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iloveyouinred · 6 months

Text

Ghost Groom: Blade x Reader

𓇬♡ | Warning: NSFW, dubcon, etc.

For some fucked up reason you were forced to marry a man who has died a terrible death in a war. This was set up by higher ups, and your poor family decided to offer you as a sacrificial bride. You thought it would be scary, what you didn't expect was that the man appeared to be alive and well. The way he fucked you certainly didn't feeled like a dead person.

The sound of both of your heavy breaths filled the room. A figure of man, on top of you messaging your clit softly. His other hand pin your hands below your head. You squirm trying to get away from his touch but he holds your stomach down. His foot between your tight not giving you much space to move. Tears brimming in your eyes, threatening to fall down as you scream to make him let you go. He was silent for a moment before a sinister laughter fell off his lips. Instantly silencing your protest. From the dim light outside the window you could only make out the outline of a man, muscular with a smile creeping up his face.

"I thought you are my bride, aren't you supposed to accept me?" He sneered, words being told with a hint of sarcasm as the laughter died down. Leaving you with cold unbearable truth. You are the bride. Yes. But you are a bride for a dead person. You would never imagine spending a night with a ghost.

The word ghost doesn't sit well as you feel his finger tracing up your folds lightly before teasing your clit again. You bit your lower lips, afraid to let out even a slightest sound. At this the man clicks his tongue. You feel him insert his long digit to test your hole. Pumping it a time or two before gradually increasing the number as your wet hole stretched around him. You could not hold your moan as his fingers's movement into your hole grow merciless. Your back arch as he curls the long digit against your g-spot. Making you clench around him with a loud gasp. He continues teasing it. Your eyes rolled back as silent moans failed to flow off your pretty lips. He smiles as you clenched around him tightly, before gushing around him with a body trembling greatly. Your back fell flat on the bed, body still trembling while he pulled out his finger.

You feel his grip on your hand is gone, instead he is opting to brush your hair off your tired face. A gentle kiss was placed on your lips as he slowly meddled your breast, tongue intertwined with your own. It contradicts his scary laugh by how gentle he is with you. And it certainly doesn't do him justice to say he is a dead person by how warm his embrace, the heat radiating off his body that is trapped with your own. You were lost in his kisses and began wrapping yourself around him. Forgetting how you reject him at the start. The rest of the night was spent in blurry memories. Breathless kiss and shameless moan. You feel both your body heat was too much, but he keeps himself close to you. Pulling orgasm after orgasm out of your overstimulated body. It was so clear- the way his finger danced along your waist, pulling your hips closely against his. He fills every bit of your womb with hot thick liquid. He makes sure to fuck it back in until you looks knocked out. Unable to look straight to him. You feel like it will never end, yet the night passes and now all of it feels like a dream. Your last memories of him kissing you on your temple. How his hands gently sneak under your arm, wrapping around your body in a firm hug. You could feel his calloused palm rubbing down your back gently. Bringing your tired body to sleep.

When you open your eyes the next morning, the only thing left was you and the messed up room. Smell of after sex in the air left your mind in daze. The soreness between your legs and body is killing you. Once you are out of here you need to question the people responsible for this ritual. But for now you will go back to sleep.

#blade honkai #blade honkai star rail #honkai blade #blade hsr #hsr blade #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #blade smut #hsr blade smut #blade x female reader #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x reader smut

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moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

hi, love! just wanna say first of all that i love your writing and your account. keep up the good work!

second of all, i was wondering if i could put in a sort of specific request? i'm currently on my period and the bloating is making me feel really bad about my body ☹️ so i was hoping maybe you could write a fic where Steve comforts Reader when she's going through something like that?

feel free to disregard this if it's too heavy of a topic, i know it can be triggering to talk about things like this for some people.

wishing you all the best! 🫶🏻

- @honeysuckleharringtons 🍯💛

Thanks so much babe!

cw: period cramps, insecurities arounds stomach/bloating

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 861 words

You think your favorite place has to be lying between Steve’s legs, with one of his hands clasped in yours and the other on your boob. If you focus really hard, you can feel his heart beating underneath your ear. You’re watching some mindless sitcom, trying to distract yourself from this blessedly mild round of cramps and silently debating whether having chocolate ice cream is worth getting up and going to the store to get it. But if Steve keeps running his thumb over the back of your hand like this, you might melt right into the couch and then the decision would be made for you.

It happens so gradually you almost don’t even notice. Steve knows to be gentle with you when you’re sensitive like this, his hand massaging the fat of your boob gently before grazing lower to rub at the skin just beneath it. Then it goes lower still, and you tense when he dips under the hem of your shirt and takes a handful of your stomach in his grasp.

Your boyfriend doesn’t seem to notice that you’ve stopped breathing, kneading at the supple chub of your middle absentmindedly, but you lower your hand to his, bringing it back up into comfortable territory. Then he looks at you, a questioning glance out of the corner of his eye. You pretend not to see. His hand drifts slowly, tentatively, back towards your stomach.

“Don’t,” you say softly, taking it again before it can get there. It’s not a reprimand so much as a gentle request, but still, Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“What’s the deal?” he asks, echoing your mild tone. “I thought stomach rubs were supposed to help with cramps.”

You soften. “That’s really sweet of you,” you tell him, “but I’m okay. I just don’t love the idea of my stomach being, like, perceived right now.”

“Perceived?” Steve angles his head to see you better, hand resting on the flat of your chest. “Why, what’s wrong with it?”

“It’s just bloated.” You sink a bit further between his legs, avoiding his stare. “It’s like, remember that time I came over without telling you and you didn’t want me to see your hair first thing in the morning?”

“Yeah, you mean the time you told me to stop being a priss and get over it? That time?”

You chuckle. “Right, well, I guess it’s kind of like that.”

Steve hums, playing with your fingers idly. “Okay,” he says after a minute, “I just want to preface this by saying that I really like you, and I think you’re smart and cool. Okay?” He leans over until he can see your face, and you nod warily. “You’re being stupid.”

A laugh startles out of you, but Steve doesn't give you a chance for rebuttal.

“You’re hot, babe.” He says it deadpan, like it’s a fact he had to memorize in school. “Like, smoking hot. The idea that you would give a shit, much less think I would give a shit, about your stomach being bloated is insane. And you trying to keep me from touching it is, like, practically criminal. Aren’t your tits bloated too?”

“Um,” you hesitate, somehow more self-conscious than you had been when this began, “yeah?”

“Right,” he says proudly. “And not to be a creep, but I’ve kind of been enjoying the shit out of those for the past couple of hours.”

“Steve.” You laugh awkwardly, squirming underneath his gaze. “That’s different, and you know it.”

He shrugs, looking you plain in the face. “Not to me. Listen, babe,” he drops his voice into a more sincere register, “I like you—your stomach, your tits, all of it—all of the time. And I think it’d make you feel better if you let me rub your stomach for you right now, so just let me, and if I start to find you any less hot, I promise to let you know.” The implication in his tone is clear: like, when pigs fly.

You look at him for a while. Steve can surprise you with his stubbornness sometimes. His eyelashes don’t so much as flicker under your perusal.

“Okay,” you sigh, getting comfortable again in his lap. “Fine, have at it.”

“Yes,” he hisses, his hand going back down and taking in a greedy handful of your swollen belly. You start to tense, head going staticky, but gradually you’re able to relax. Steve with his hands on you is no foreign thing. He starts to push down tentatively, asking you to coach him on where you need it the most until he’s gently massaging over the ache. You let your eyes slip closed. You honestly hadn’t expected it to bring quite so much relief.

“Did Robin put you up to this?” you ask quietly.

Steve’s soft chuckle confirms your theory. “You’ve got her to thank for the chocolate ice cream in the fridge, too.”

A smile spreads across your face, and you can hear him laugh again at how blissed-out you must look. “Remind me to give her a hug the next time I see her.”

“You could just give it to me instead," he says. "I’ll pass it along.”

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runnning-outof-time · 9 months

Note

For the celebration I choose three word prompt: Number 7: " I love you."

The reader has been working at the garrison for a while. Plus Tommy likes her without her knowing it. Other thing the reader ask Tommy to take her home one night because the streets are dangerous at night. Lastly, the reader lets him stay the night with her and he confesses his feelings for her. The reader happens to feel the same way.

Thanks for sending this in Selene - it ended up being a bit longer than a blurb, I guess, but I wanted to make sure it matched what you were looking for in the original request you sent…I appreciate you allowing me to merge it into this celebration. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

This is part of my 3.5k celebration — check it out!

All Of A Sudden

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1343

Summary: (Y/N) and Tommy find themselves getting sucked into a bit of a whirlwind-typed romance after he offers to walk her home one evening.

Rain was coming down pretty hard as (Y/N) finished up her end of shift chores at the Garrison. She liked being at the tavern after hours. Who knew a place filled with so many reveling people throughout the day could turn into one so peaceful at night?

She placed the rag and bucket she was using to clean tables down in the stock room and came back into the main bar area. Glancing aorund the room, she nodded to herself, considering her work for the night finished. Just as she was grabbing her things, the doors to the bar opened. She gasped softly at the sound, whipping around to see who was entering the building. A sigh of relief followed as her eyes found one of her bosses. “Mr. Shelby…I was just leaving for the evening,” she said to him, reaching to grab her purse from the bar.

Tommy had just finished taking off his dripping peaked cap when he heard her speak. “Oh, you’re leaving?” His question held a tone of surprise.

“Yes,” she nodded, “all of the nightly jobs are finished.”

“That’s good.”

Silence fell between them as they stood several feet away from each other. (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel the heat creeping up the back of her neck as his eyes stayed on her. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel something towards him. There was just something about him that drew her in. No matter what she did, she couldn’t shake it, and it seemed to grow the longer she worked at the Garrison.

“It’s late and raining pretty bad out there,” Tommy’s voice brought her out of her thoughts and back into the conversation, “how about I walk you home?”

If her heart wasn’t racing before, it surely was now. “Oh, Tommy, you don’t need to…”

“No, but I want to,” he cut her statement off before she could finish it.

It took a moment for (Y/N) to respond, both because she was surprised by the kind gesture and also because her mind was running at about a mile a minute. Tommy stood waiting, expectantly watching for her answer. “Ok,” she said when she trusted her voice enough to speak again.

The answer was simple, but it was all Tommy needed to nod and place the peaked cap back atop his head, not caring if it was soaked. “Come on,” he said, waving her over. She listened, falling in by his side so that he could lead her out of the Garrison.

“My home’s not far from here,” she told him as they quickly began walking in the direction of where she lived, their pace hastened due to the rain that was still pouring down.

Soon enough they were inside her flat, and (Y/N) was hanging her soaked coat on the rack by the door before reaching out for Tommy’s. He looked surprised by her gesture, and she couldn’t help but smile sheepishly. “Wouldn’t want you here in a wet coat,” she gave her reasoning behind the offer.

Tommy pursed his lips before nodding, working on taking off his overcoat then. “Thank you,” he said as she took it and hung it on one of the hooks.

(Y/N) turned back to smile at him, ringing her hands together as she carefully thought over what she would say next. After a few moments, she went for it: “you should stay here tonight.” A look of intrigue flashed across Tommy’s face at her suggestion, and just as he opened his mouth to respond, (Y/N) threw a few more words in: “it’s pouring out…I don’t want you walking back in it.”

“Oh,” Tommy responded, nodding. (Y/N) wanted to facepalm, desperate to know if her added statement changed what his answer would be.

“I understand if not, but I just wanted to offer so that if…” she trailed off, failing to find the words she wanted. The more she thought, the less she came up with, so she ended off with a sigh, dropping her embarrassed gaze to the floor.

“I’ll stay.” Tommy’s response surprised her, making her eye lift up in a flash.

“Really? I mean…um, ok,” she switched up her tone, clearing her throat so that she didn’t sound so surprised by his answer. “Let me, um…I’ll go get some blankets I guess,” she then turned to walk to her bedroom.

“(Y/N)…wait,” Tommy called for her, making her stop in her tracks and turn back to him. He looked her over before continuing, “I appreciate you doing this,” he spoke with sincerity.

“Oh, it’s no big deal,” she answered him with a smile.

“I appreicate all of the work you’ve done around the Garrison, too. I appreciate you for helping me with everything,” he continued dispite her brushing him off.

She’d been a big help to him over the last several months, assisting with many different things in regards to the company, as well as being there for him if he needed someone to talk to. He told her things he hadn’t even told his family.

“It’s, um, it’s part of my…I’m happy I’m able to help you, Tommy,” she stumbled over her response, now taking note of how close he was standing. She felt her mouth go dry as his eyes danced over her face, looking as though he was committing every bit of it to memory.

Time seemed to slow down as he reached out and took hold of her cheek with his one hand, caressing it gently as he moved even closer to her. She wasn’t even sure what was happening was still real as he spoke again. “I…it’s been a while since I’ve felt for someone the way I feel for you, (Y/N),” he told her, his confession making her heart rate sky rocket. Is this really happening?, she had to ask herself.

“Tommy, I…”

“And I’ve felt it from just about the moment I laid eyes on you,” he continued. It was taking everything (Y/N) had not to let the wide smile break out across her face as she listened to what he had to say.

Is this really happening?!

“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping,” he said then, retreating slightly from his forward stance, his thumb brushing across her cheek.

“No, you’re not…you’re not overstepping at all,” she told him, responding a bit too quickly, but he didn’t seem to care. “I, um…” she trailed off, swallowing her fears (because he’d pretty much just confessed his feelings to her) before building up the courage to continue, “I feel the same way about you. I have for a while also,” she admitted, wanting to squeeze her eyes shut so that she didn’t see his reaction.

But instead she kept them wide open, and she watched as the smallest smile creeped onto Tommy Shelby’s lips. “I’m happy to hear that,” he said to her, his thumb still rubbing soft circles against her skin.

She got lost in it, and his eyes, for a few moments, soaking in the fact that the man she’d been pining for these last few months was now standing inches away from her and had just admitted his feelings for her. How exactly did this happen?

“So it’s not too early to say this then…?” she trailed off, biting on her lip as she wondered if she should go forward with what she was about to say.

“Say what?” Tommy quirked an eyebrow.

“I love you,” she blurted, quickly gasping as she brought a hand up to cover her mouth, surprised by the fact that she’d just said those three words so freely.

Before she could die of embarrasment, Tommy gently brought her hand down from her mouth before he brought his other up to her cheek. A smile flashed across his lips before he leaned in and pressed them to hers. The kiss said everything he didn’t, and it was one that made (Y/N)’s embarrassment disappear in a flash.

— I promise they all won’t be this long!! And it might have been a bit early for her to say those three words, but hell…YOLO, right??

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @youtifulsunshinelixfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

#k’s 3.5k celebration #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby blurb #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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charliemwrites · 5 months

Note

this is quite self indulgent (you have no obligation to respond if this is not something you are down to write, i totally get it lol), but as someone with ptsd, i get nightmares more nights than i don’t. this kinda made me realize- how would keeper! simon react if he can hear feral having a nightmare in her room, especially with his rule of letting their space be theirs and theirs alone? how do you think the other would react to one if they were watching her?

(also, can i be ☘️ anon?? this and the scientist au live in my head rent free and i have so may ideas lol)

Hi!! You can absolutely be ☘️! Welcome aboard!!

And oooh yeah, nightmares I can def do.

The first time it happens is early on in your time with him. No surprise, your life has been turned upside down and you’re still very frightened of him! It’s entirely understandable. He also knows that going in to wake you up probably won’t help.

So he turns your light on so that when you wake up, it won’t be dark. He leaves a glass of water at the door, and a heating pack in case you need it.

The next morning, he’s extra slow and careful with you. You’re so tired you barely even notice.

Later on, he starts gently waking you. He doesn’t mind that you react violently, just makes sure you don’t fall out of your tall bed. He offers you things - water, snacks, a trip outside for fresh air, a cuddle? The first time you ask him to just… stay, don’t speak don’t touch, just be in the room, his heart melts. He stays until you fall asleep.

He gets you a pretty fake moon that he hangs from the ceiling. It casts a pretty soft glow that’s much easier to wake up to after nightmares. You bump your forehead against his arm in thanks for that.

When you two actually have a bond, though, you’re running into his room if he’s not already in yours. The “your bed is untouchable” rule no longer applies if you’re screaming and sobbing and hyperventilating in your sleep. And that’s by your own permission! You told him that!

You can’t handle being held after a nightmare, don’t like feeling trapped or pinned. So he just stays where you can see him, hands to himself and you decide the level of contact. Sometimes you yank him down to play with his hair to soothe yourself. Sometimes you lean into his side for something sturdy and warm. On really bad nights, the two of you go back to his room. He lies on his side facing away and you press against his back, palm flat to make your breaths match his. He stays awake all night those times, just to make sure you sleep alright.

When he’s away, you’re much more likely to have nightmares. Unfortunately, the care guides are not very helpful. You won’t let anyone do what he does for you, and you react to them all differently.

Price takes a similar approach to Simon in the beginning. Leaves things for you to comfort yourself with and stays available if you need to be with someone. Later on, after you’ve gotten more used to him, sometimes you creep out of your room and sit in the couch with him. It works for you, even if you’re very tired and grumpy the next day.

Johnny will only enter your room if it’s really bad to wake you up. Those are the few times you’ve apologized for biting or scratching him. He brings you hot chocolate and holds your hand a respectful distance away, sometimes on the couch, sometimes on the floor of your room. He asks what you’ve dreamed of, but you never tell him.

Gaz is allowed in your room always to wake you up. You feel so bad if he doesn’t dodge fast enough and gets hit or bit. He just shakes it off a little smile and squeezes your hand. He takes you out to the sunporch to look at the stars under blankets usually. Or cuddles up on the couch with you to watch cartoons or comedies or tiktoks. Sometimes if he asks, you do tell him. But you feel bad for doing that whenever you do.

#asks #my writing #fanfiction #cod #thoughts™️#reader fic #keeper ghost #kept pet ghost #dark fic #kyle gaz garrick #john price #john soap mactavish #keeper/kept au #☘️ anon

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nwndrlndn · 10 months

Text

Christian Woman

pairing : sam monroe x goth!fem!reader | wc : 2.7k | 18+MINORS DNI

summary : just your usual sacrilegious friday night

warnings : ( christian/catholic ) religious imagery, weed, dub-con, impact play ( a slap, being shoved against a wall ), innocence kink, corruption kink, intercrural sex, hair pulling, clothed sex

a/n : partially inspired by the movie love exposure, partially inspired by christian woman by type o neg. im not pushing religion on anyone, believe what you want to. i just reeeeaaaaalllllyyyyyy liked this idea

Sam’s perched on your window seat and even though you told him to take off his boots, he kept them on and they were digging into one of your pillows. He takes a hit from his blunt and blows the smoke up into the air before he shifts slightly, sinking against one of your many black pillows. From where he’s sitting, he can see you perfectly. You look like a vampire bride from all of those cheesy 50s monster flicks, laying flat on your bed, a dark canopy obscuring your face from most angles. But he could see your eyes shut and your headphones slid over your ears and the way your hair was carefully tucked under your head so you look neat.

His eyes flit to your hands fiddled with one of the crucifixes you wore on your wrist, one of the many that decorated your neck, your wrists, and were even embroidered across the hemline of many of your jackets. Sam sucks in a breath before he calls out to you, "Lookin' good today."

Without even open your eyes, you mutter a quick “Shut up.”

Sam groans and takes another hit, his eyes looking at the various fading hardcover books and journals. "What's your problem? I'm trying to be nice here."

“You’re being slimy.” You slide off your headphones and he watches as you set aside your walkman.

You stand from your bed and walk to him, leaning over as you take the joint from his hand and taking a hit yourself. Sam sighs and reclines. "You look like a beautiful, fallen angel with those eyes and that outfit." He looks you up and down then smirks. "I bet if I touch you, you would melt in my hands." You roll your eyes and take a drag, blowing it out at him. "You're playing hard to get, I like it." Sam smiles and leans over to kiss your neck.

“Not now,” You murmur, pushing him away as you take another hit. “Not when I put in over an hour of work into todays outfit and hair and makeup.”

"Oh, come on, you act like it's so difficult." Sam chuckles and takes back the blunt for another hit. "Besides, I bet this outfit was made to be taken off at some stage, and I'd love to do the honors."

“Of course you would, you creep.” You hiss and he watches your necklace as you move, reveling in the way the cross swings like a pendulum against your chest, catching against the curve of your tits as it.

Sam grins and pulls you closer by your leg. "Oh, don't pretend like you're not getting turned on." He smirked and chuckled. "It's okay to play hard to get... You won't last long, trust me."

You scoff and move away from him, before you sit at your vanity. Carefully, you set down the rosaries and crosses you wear down. Your vanity is littered with red and black candles, small statues of the Virgin Mary, and small vials of plants and flowers. “You almost had me once. I guess you should be saying that I’m hard to keep.”

Sam lets silence fill the room for a few moments, before he finally gets up from your window seat and slowly starts to walk to you. "You know, I've always wondered why you wear those around your neck like you're some devout Christian. You never go to church and you don't really behave like one either." Sam smirked. "I reckon there's a bit of a sinner hiding behind those crosses." He chuckled.

“Why are you all in my business?” You mutter defensively and he leans back.

"You know, I'm always looking after you when you're too wasted to look after yourself and making sure that you don't get into any trouble." He chuckles. "Besides, you never seem to mind that I'm in your business or close in your personal space."

“I do mind when you get between me and Maria.” You say a bit louder, looking at your various small statues.

"Yeah right, and you're not supposed to put any one before the Lord, right? I saw you kissing Corey in the parking lot last week." Sam smirks and took another hit. "Looks like you're not a religious little girl after all."

“Doesn’t matter who I kiss, I’ll be forgiven. And thats not putting anyone before the Lord. And kissing isn't a sin.” With each sentence you give, he lets out a small snicker, only making you more defensive.

"Oh, that's rich. You can do whatever you want so long as you say sorry later - classic Catholic schoolgirl logic." Sam chuckles and took another hit. "And what about the pot you're smoking right now? Isn't that a sin or something?"

“In some cases. Go to church or something, stop depending on me.”

"Of course I go to church. I have to look like a good Christian boy to my father." Sam smirks. "And if you're so religious, you'd know that smoking pot is a mortal sin." Sam rolled his eyes. "But I guess you can confess all your sins later, right?"

“That’s just what the Pope says now… By the time I die, the Pope will be on my side and high as a kite.” The more you talk, the more Sam leans in.

"And what about your precious Mary? She'd be upset at the thought of you doing pot with me," Sam grinned. He leaned closer and exhaled a puff of smoke in your direction.

“She'd be more pissed if you kept touching me and groping at me.”

Sam smirked and put a hand on your leg. "I've already touched you. And it's quite apparent that you're not pushing me away." Instead of dignifying him with a response, you stay silent, taking out a brush and fixing your hair.

"You can try to play all cool and tough, but all it takes is one word from me to make you beg." Sam chuckles and leans close to you once again. "You really don't want to know what would happen if I whispered into your ear right now," he smirked, and when you stay silent, he feels frustrated. So he crouches down next to you, watching your hands and face as you brush your hair.

"I can make you feel so good," Sam chuckled and leaned over your shoulder to kiss your neck. "But I have to be careful not to leave any marks so your stepdad doesn't see, and I could always go for something else." Sam smirked and put a hand on your thigh before pulling away. "I'm just trying to look out for you, you know." He chuckled, taking another drag of the joint.

“You’re tryna look out for your own dick.” You say with a scoff. “Go down the street and hook up with perky Alyssa.” Sam looks frustrated for a moment before he chuckles.

"I don't need Alyssa, thanks very much for the recommendation. And I'm not some animal with no standards, you know." He took another hit of the joint. "It's just, you could use a bit of relief." He chuckled and looked into your eyes. "Or you've already started getting it elsewhere, if rumors that are circulating around school are to be believed." He grinned cheekily.

This hits you harder than his words before and you freeze. Slowly, you set down your brush and turn to look at him apologize. “Apologize now.”

"Wow, touchy subject there, huh," Sam chuckled and smirked. "Did you or did you not already hook up with Corey? Because I'm hearing a whole lot of rumors." Sam stared you down. "Either tell me the truth or I won't apologize."

You hear it before you realize what you've done, the sound of skin hitting skin. Then you feel the heat in your hand and realize you're not looking into Sam’s eyes anymore, just staring at his cheek as his face is now facing the wall. Sam's eye widened. He looked stunned for a moment like you had never seen. Then his expression soured and turned to anger. "Is that how it's going to be huh?"

He smirked and grabbed your arm, tugging you up from your seat and pushing you up against the wall and placing the back of his hand between your shoulderblades and leaning into your ear. "Maybe you haven't slept with him, but you've definitely been getting it on with those little white knights who think they're so perfect. What's with your attraction to good little boys anyway? I've seen it in your eyes since the first time we met."

“Just cause we kissed before doesnt mean youre my type and I can like whoever I like.” You hiss, struggling against him.

"So you admit it then?" Sam smirked and turned you around, holding your arms against the wall, his face just inches from yours. As he held you up against the wall, moved his hands to your waist. Then one hands moves up to your chest, Sam pressed his hand to your chest, his fingers brushing against your cleavage.

"I know you were getting excited the other day we were at the mall together, so why don't we skip the part where you play hard to get?"

You sigh, resting your head against the wall and you can see the Mary statues and rosaries on your vanity. “Not here... Maria is here... We can’t.”

"Who says we can't? Mary is all forgiving, right?" Sam smirked and took your hand, running his fingers over you. "C'mon, let's show her how much you want this." He chuckled. "We could even invite her to join." He grinned and leaned his face closer to you. "You do want me though, don't you?" He whispered, his hot breath caressing your cheek. As you start to push him back by his shoulders, breath shaky, he leans in and kisses your cheek.

"Ahh, see? You want me and you know it." Sam smirks and leans over your shoulder, placing his hands around your waist. He pulls you into him and whispers seductively in your ear. "Why don't you let me show you how good I am?" Sam smirks, his breath tickling your ear. "And, just remember, Mary is all forgiving. Just give into your desires."

Your hands grab at the sides of your skirt and you can barely look at him. “Please.”

"I'll take that as a yes." Sam chuckled, and his hand traveled across your chest and past your neck, his lips gently kissing your ear, your neck and then your collarbone. He pushed the fabric of your top further and further down your chest. "Let me show you how good I can make you feel." He kissed up and down your neck and your chest, his fingers grazing across your tits. His touch was gentle but strong.

“I was trying to be better.” You murmur, your hands sliding from his shoulders to his biceps.

"Who says having a little fun is a bad thing? You're not a child anymore, so why not have a little pleasure before you grow old?" Sam whispered into your ear as his lips met your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "And you can't blame me for being attracted to such a beautiful woman who never wears a bra." He smirked and whispered. "Maybe you want this. Maybe you like being touched."

“I'm wearing a corset.” You murmur, hands sliding down to his waist. “It’s a trade off.”

"And it's a damn good trade off." Sam chuckled, and his hand traced the contours of your body as he ran a finger down the tight garment covering your chest. "I can imagine exactly how you look under that corset." He whispered, whispering into your ear.

Your fingers hook his studded belt and he takes it as an invitation to kiss you and your lips meet. You can taste the smoke on his lips and as your tongues meet, you can feel how dry his mouth is. As you continue to kiss, his hips slide down to your hips, pushing you back against the wall.

“Stay. Still.” He whispers, before he kneels down in front of your dress’s high low skirt and pushes it up impatiently and you hold up the fabric for him. Sam smiles, edging your thighs apart and lets you steady yourself. “You’ve done this before, right?”

“No.” The word is quiet and you feel heat rise to your face. For a few beats, the room is silent and you just feel Sam’s fingers on your thighs as he thinks for a moment before you feel his breath inching closer to your black panties and his hair rubbing against your upper thighs. You want to move away but he grabs at your thighs to hold you still.

“Silk. I’d almost think you’re a good girl.” He murmurs before he leans in and starts to lick at your panties. You look down at where he’s settled between your legs and feel nothing but confusion.

“I am a good girl!” You whine back, jumping slightly when you finally feel his tongue graze your core and his hands hold you steady.

“Feels good right?” He murmurs continuing to lick at your slit over your panties and you let out a moan. Sam’s tongue slips his way to your clit, licking at it with his eyes shut. He drags his hands up to your hips, holding you to his mouth, making you instinctively buck against him. The longer he licks, the more you buck against him and slowly you feel a pressure in your stomach. As it gets to be too much, you let out a whine but he holds you still, licking you faster until he can feel your muscles tense and you moan out.

You grab at his hair as you come down from your orgasm and Sam gets up, wiping his lips dry. Once they’re dry, he pulls you in for another kiss and you kiss back lazily. You can hear him undoing his belt and muttering under his breath. “You're… not gonna?”

“Pop your cherry? I’ll let you wait, give you a taste of whats to come.” He murmurs before he leads you back to your vanity, making you kneel over the seat and rest your head against the black table. As you stay still, you can hear the shifting of fabrics and your eyes rest on a small Virgin Mary statue as she holds a baby Jesus. You feel him slide your dressskirt up your back as he settles behind you, holding your thighs together.

“Stay as still as possible. If you move too much, then your precious Mary is gonna have front row seats to you getting deflowered.” He murmurs as he slides his member between your thighs with a sigh. Once his hips hit your thighs, he lets out a groan and rests his head against your back for a moment. Slowly, he straightens up and starts to thrust into your thighs, letting out low moans and whines as his hands rub your back.

Every few thrusts, his dick grazes your panties and makes you whine and move back against him. “You are a good girl.” He murmurs, between breathy moans. His hands are gentle on you as he continues to rut into your thighs, treating you like a fleshlight as he chases his own pleasure. His hands start to grab at your waist as he finally comes against you, stilling as he rests his chest on your back. he follows your eyes to the statue of the Blessed Virgin you turned around.

“I feel wrong.”

“Then go confess.” He murmurs, moving your hair away from your face before he straightens up and uses a tissue he finds to clean himself and slide his pants back on. As you start to stand up, you take your own tissue to clean up your now sticky thighs and you catch him gathering his belongings and as you watch him, you whisper.

“Are you leaving?” And he grunts in response, pushing past you and leaving your bedroom. You feel a pit of dread open in your stomach, and pick up one of your rosaries and shutting your eyes to pray.

#[ 🍒 ] — my works #[ 🎧 ] — sam #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe #sam monroe smut #sam monroe x you #sam monroe x y/n

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luveline · 5 months

Note

hi jade! this is kind of a random request but I was wondering if for ur zombie!au you would write where something happens that reminds reader of the guy that kidnapped her at the college a while after it happened and she’s upset she’s still thinking ab him but Steve comforts her and it’s all fluffy sorry if this is too specific love u!

zombie au —steve comforts you through the panic of a bad memory. fem, 1.3k

The tent is quiet. You've taken the blankets out while the sun is high, having washed them and needing her help to get them dry again, and your collective belongings make a meagre pile in one corner. If you wanted, you could lay down flat.

Might as well, you decide. The ground is far from unfamiliar, no rock nor pebble capable of disturbing you.

Your back aches, your neck worse, and an hour or two of sleep would do you good no matter how unforgiving the floor is, but it isn't your comfort that's the problem. You hear a skittering sound and throw your gaze to one corner of the tent. A footstep, and your attention is drawn to the other.

It's hard to relax without a lap to hide your face in, or a rough, familiar hand in the curve of your neck.

You're not sure where Steve is today. It's like that here, sometimes. You'll be told to do one thing and sent to do another, and while you'd been sent home ages ago, he's still out, and so is Robin.

You miss her a lot lately. She's not around much. To think you hadn't trusted her when you first met… it's all silly looking back. You couldn't believe she wanted to be your friend until after she'd—

Connor.

You bite your cheek and try not to think about it. You'd found it hard to trust Robin until she, with Steve (and few others) came to find you. When Connor stole you. Paralysed with fear, you'd walked miles in the cold, his pistol a threat tucked into his jeans.

The memories surface one at a time like barbs emerging from a slow sand. How stupid you were. How scared. And Connor ‘The Creep’, how cruel he'd been, the crush of his hand on your face and the way he'd thrown your head back into a wall. The disorientation, the ache of your wrists, the claustrophobia. All of it.

You raise your hand to your face and feel for the scars. They're miniscule now, practically invisible. They would've faded completely if they hadn't gotten infected. Your index nail catches on the worst one near your mouth and feels back and forth the length of it with a morbid sense of otherness.

It hadn't taken much for him to do whatever it was he wanted to do. If Steve hadn't cared enough to look for you, Connor would've done much worse. You'd been completely and totally helpless, and that feeling isn't one the heart likes to remember. Your pulse climbs, climbs, races, a sudden pressure in your throat like you might gag. You hurry into a sitting position with a hand on your heart, the other screwed into the floor of the tent, and struggle to draw breath. Each inhale feels like you've pulled it through a narrow straw.

He must hear it from outside of the tent. “Y/N?” Steve asks worriedly, his voice before his face, though his face swiftly follows as he brushes aside the tents opening to find you. “What's wrong?”

You wave a hand at him weakly.

He climbs in, the clay of the river mud thick on his shoes and hard not to think of as he kneels at your side. “Hey,” he says, his hand on your wrist, eyebrows tugged down into a deep furrow. “Why are you panicking? You're okay.”

“I'm fine.”

“Yeah, you are.” He smiles, barely, giving your hand a weak squeeze. “You're fine. So let's breathe.”

Steve takes big, deep breaths for you to follow. You fail to copy him, but it doesn't matter. His being here is enough to feel safe again, to be here, and not a hundred miles northward, huddled and crying in an abandoned cabin thinking you'd never get to go home.

“Ah,” you say, unintelligible sputter, chest aching like a wound, “sorry, sorry,” —you duck your head— “sorry.”

“Would you–”

“I'm sorry.”

“Stop it.” He ducks his head low to find you, hand searching for your other, bringing both to hold atop your knees. “What's the matter, huh? Why are you freaking out?”

He speaks gently, but betrays his own panic with a bad habit, the slightest quirk of his mouth.

“It won't make sense.”

“Says who?”

“It was a long time ago.”

Steve's lips part.

“It–” Your eyes ache, your throat too. “It's– It doesn't make any sense, I shouldn't be–” You shake your head.

Steve lets go of your wrists. “Honey, it doesn't matter when it happened,” he says, measured, as though painting each word between you one by one.

“I was just laying down and I was thinking about Connor. Why am I still thinking about him?” You stare hard at the spot between his eyes. “It's been so long since… My hands…”

Steve's eyelashes flare with surprise, but he hides it quickly, a more solid expression of unhappiness taking place. “Aw, babe,” he says under his breath. He brings his fingers to your cheek and wipes up and down reassuringly. “I don't think you get to choose. We don't pick what stays around, right?”

“I don't want to think about it at all.” You inhale too quick and Steve cups your cheek.

“Relax,” he says, still so quiet. “Who cares why you're thinking about it? You're not doing anything wrong. You didn't do anything wrong.” He looks at you imploringly. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah, of course I do. He wasn't well–”

“No, he wasn't. And he hurt you, and if you think about it, that's okay. Yeah?”

“Yeah. Can you–?”

His smile softens. He wraps his arms around your waist, forcing you to go over his shoulders as he leans back to drag you in. You let the entirety of your weight sink into his grasp, sighing as he sighs, and breathing in again with his breath. His hair smells like the river, and his shirt is damp under your hands. He's cold, likely tired from a long day, but he doesn't give any indication to you that this is too much to have to deal with. If anything, you'd think he's quite enjoying himself, his sigh long and relieved.

“Please don't panic about him,” he says into your collar. “Don't be scared. Nobody's ever getting near you like that again, I swear.”

“I'm not scared.” Even if someone does get close, Steve's always gonna be right behind you. You know he'll fight to get you back.

“Don't worry,” he says, pushing his face into your neck. “Sweetheart, please don't worry.”

Sweetheart. You close your eyes and slouch into him like all the strength has left you. It's nice to just lean on him, and know he doesn't mind the weight. Despite everything, Steve loves you.

“Sorry,” you say. For crying, and for having failed in the first place.

He pushes you backward gently to take your face into two hands.

“You get the wrong things wrong,” he says, smiling ruefully. “You know? You care about all the wrong things, and that's not– I'm not– I don't care. I don't care that you're upset about this, you don't have to be sorry for it, I just care that you're crying. We've talked about this before, haven't we? I'm sorry I haven't made it clear, but I'll keep trying, okay? And you need to keep telling me how you're feeling without thinking it's something to be sorry for.”

You pout a little to stop from crying, tears anew in your waterline. To be loved by him is enough to put the past back in the past for now. “Do you ever stop talking?” you ask.

“Nope,” he says, beaming at you as he wipes your cheek, “never. Not when I'm with you.”

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Apothecary - chapter three

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

someone comes looking for her help that she hadn't been expecting. joel continues to grapple with what's true and what isn't. lines are crossed that they won't be able to come back from.

warnings | 18+ canon-typical violence, angst, spooky vibes as always

................................

She knew it was too good to be true. It always is. They always are. She shouldn’t have let herself believe him, that he wouldn’t let the people in town sway his mind. She had wanted, more than anything, for it to be true. She had wanted him. But it’s been two weeks since she’s heard from Joel Miller, and she’s finding herself having to quietly accept that he’s just like the rest of them.

The first few days after they went up into the mountains together, she managed to reason to herself that he was just busy with patrol shifts. But a few days turned into a week, and then something happened that made it clear to her that he wasn’t just busy. She had been wandering along the tables of the weekly town market, Stevie close on her heels, when she saw him a little further down the way, arms crossed over his chest and talking with Tommy. She smiled when his eyes met hers, only feeling a little dorky for the small wave she offered him, but his face had been unreadable, flat, expressionless. He didn’t so much as acknowledge her, muttering something to his brother before turning heel and walking away. Away from her. When she got back to her shop afterward, the sweet bunch of sunflowers she had traded for had all wilted and browned, crisped petals falling off the shriveled stalks.

She hadn’t felt embarrassed like that in a long time, the thick skin she had developed living in Jackson usually protecting her from it. But the way that he had ignored her, practically shunned her, had a slippery heat creeping up her throat that she never wanted to feel again. She hung a wreath of rosemary and lavender on her front door and the door to her shop that night, a protection she learned from her mother. And the next day, she took to the task of forgetting all about Joel Miller, and the man she thought he was.

It hasn’t exactly been difficult to distract herself. Afterall, it seems like there’s always someone else with some sort of affliction, needing her help. But things become complicated when, one night, someone comes knocking on the backdoor to her shop that she hadn’t been expecting.

“Um, hi– hello. My friends sent me, they told me you could help?” She squints at the girl in the dim shadows, the only light coming from inside her shop.

“You’re Ellie, right?” The girl’s face brightens at that, worry smoothing out as she nods.

“Mmhmm, yep. That’s me.” Joel’s kid. She has only seen her in passing around town, but she recognizes her right away.

“What do you need help with?” Ellie bites her lip, eyes darting around a bit before settling back on her.

“Could I– can I come in?” She hesitates, but nods, stepping aside to let the girl into the back of the shop.

“Woah, this place is so fucking cool.” She has to laugh, watching Ellie’s wide eyes roam around the back room as she shuffles inside, her head whipping around to the sound of the back door shutting.

“You said you needed some help? What’s going on?” Ellie lets out a nervous laugh, her brows scrunching up as she smiles at her.

“So, just for the record, I don’t believe what everyone says about you.” Her brows raise at that, stepping around Ellie to tend to the pot she has going on the stove.

“You don’t?”

“Nope– I mean, I know you help people. But I think it’s a little ridiculous to be calling someone a wi– I mean, unless you like being called a witch, then I think that’s cool too–” She laughs lightly at Ellie’s nervous ramble, turning away from the stove to offer her a reassuring smile.

“It’s alright, Ellie. You can call me whatever you want to, really, I don’t mind. But what I would like to hear is what you need my help with.” Ellie nods jerkily, taking a sharp inhale before responding.

“Well, um, some of my friends told me that you’ll help people with, like– relationship stuff?” She thinks she knows what the kid is referring to, but needs her to explain it herself.

“Relationship stuff?” Ellie nods.

“Yeah, like– one of my friends– he said his mom came to you for help with his dad, her husband, I guess. He said you made him love her again.” She crosses her arms over her chest, sighing deeply at Ellie’s words.

“I didn’t make anyone do anything, kid. I provide– nudges. What people make of those is up to them, though.”

“Ok! So, could you help me with a– a nudge, then?” Ellie’s eyes are wide, rimmed with hope as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth.

“How old are you, kid?” Ellie squares up her shoulders at that.

“Eighteen.” She quirks her brow, and Ellie sighs.

“Fine, I’m seventeen.” Still not buying it, she tilts her chin at the girl, whose shoulders finally slump.

“I’m fifteen, alright? But I really, really like this girl– and all I’m asking for is some help getting her to notice me, that’s all!” She sighs.

“Kid–”

“Please– I’ll do just about anything for your help– I-I can trade you for it! I could, like, help out around the shop for you, run errands for you. Just– please, will you help me?” She can already feel herself caving in to the girl’s pleas. When Stevie jumps up onto the butcher’s block and starts nuzzling at Ellie’s arm, her resolve disappears completely.

“Alright, alright, I’ll help you–” Ellie’s face splits out into a grin, clearly getting ready to let out an exclamation, but she isn’t done talking.

“But, this isn’t gonna be the strong stuff, ok? You’re way too young to be messing with that. And I’m gonna take you up on that offer– you can come and work for me after your classes in trade for it. That sound like a deal?” Ellie laughs, nodding.

“Yep, yeah, yes ma’am. You have a deal.”

…

“Wait, that’s it?” Ellie holds up the small jar, watching the honey drip slowly from one side to the other. Stevie lets out a little mrrp from where she’s sitting in Ellie’s lap, yellow eyes looking up at her.

“Not quite, here–” She gets up from her seat at the butcher’s block, quickly grabbing a scrap of paper and pencil before setting them down in front of Ellie.

“I want you to write down what– or who– it is you want to attract on that piece of paper. Keep it in your mind as you fold it up and tuck it into the jar, ok?” Ellie nods, quickly scribbling out what she thinks is a name, though she tries to keep herself from peering over the girl’s quickly moving hands. Honey jar spells remind her of her mother. One of the first times she got to see her working was on such a spell, and it had been a real lesson in the work they do.

“People believe what they want to believe, my dear. We just help them guide that belief into reality. That’s what this power really is, an ability to see what others can’t. Our eyes are just a bit more open than everyone else’s. It’s not the spells that matter, it’s the minds that believe they matter that make all the difference.”

Ellie scrunches her eyes shut as she folds up the paper, and she can’t help but smile at the girl as she tucks the scrap into the jar. Her eyes blink open, shoulders slumping a bit.

“Is that it?” She snorts at the girl’s clearly unimpressed expression.

“Well, what did you expect? That she’d be knocking down the door right away?” Ellie shrugs, huffing a little as she scratches under Stevie’s chin.

“No– I mean, maybe?”

“Kid, I told you. I deal in nudges. Not full-throttle shoves.” She screws the lid onto the jar, tilting it side to side before handing it to Ellie.

“Put that somewhere that you can look at it every day. On a nightstand works best– and when you find a moment, like when you’re going to sleep, just think on it again with that same intention in mind, alright? We have a way of attracting what we focus on, if we actually focus.” Ellie nods, tilting the jar this way and that, the honey glinting in the dim light of the shop

“Alright– thank you. Um, when do you want me to start working?” Stevie leaps out of Ellie’s lap and onto the table, sniffing at the jar in the girl’s hand.

“Why don’t you come around tomorrow after school? I’ll show you how to take care of the plants– could use an extra set of hands for that chore.”

…

Ellie’s been coming in most afternoons for a little over a week now, and she has to admit, the girl’s help has been more than welcomed. She’s good with the plants, eagerly learning about what needs watered when, and what needs moved into and out of the afternoon sun streaming in through the shop windows. And Stevie certainly likes her too. She knows that Ellie is about to come into the shop when the cat jumps down from wherever she’s been perched for most of the day and pads out to the front of the shop before the door even opens.

But one thing that she has been wondering about is what Joel thinks about this set-up. Clearly, he wants nothing to do with her, not anymore. So she reckons he must not be too happy with his kid spending every afternoon in her shop.

“Hey, Ellie?” The girl turns from where she had been trimming away dead leaves from a potted mint plant, tilting her head in response.

“Does your dad mind that you’re working here?” Ellie seems taken aback by the question, eventually letting out a snort of laughter.

“Who, Joel? He’s not my dad. He’s my– well, he’s my– Joel. But, he doesn’t tell me what to do, y’know? I’m my own person and shit.” She nods with a smile, trying not to laugh at Ellie’s crass explanation while also fitting another puzzle piece together in her mind. It makes sense now, why she had picked up on Sarah’s name and not Ellie’s. But it’s also clear to her that whatever they are to each other, they’re close.

She turns to get back to work propagating some verbena, but stops when Ellie clears her throat.

“Um, I feel like maybe I should apologize for him. I don’t know what happened between you guys, but he likes you, I swear. He’s just– he can be a little–”

“All or nothing?” Ellie sighs.

“I was gonna say asshole-y– but yeah, that too. He tends to shut down when he’s figuring something out. But he does like you! He’d probably kill me for telling you this– but he always asks about you when I get home.” That surprises her, brows raising at Ellie’s admission.

“Now who’s nudging who, huh?” That gets a light laugh out of Ellie, shaking her head as they both settle back into quietly working across the shop from one another. Her mind, however, is anything but silent, rolling over the fact that Joel has been asking about her like a sour candy that burns extra sweet.

…

With the town’s summer dance happening that night, she sends Ellie home early, guessing that the girl will be eager to see her crush at the festivities. Normally she wouldn’t go to something like this, not wanting all the eyes and whispers on her. But she’s just a little too curious to see who has won over Ellie’s affections, and begrudgingly decides to head down to see what all the fuss is about.

It seems like just about everyone in town has converged on what’s normally the mess hall, tables and chairs pushed out of the way to form a makeshift dance floor. There’s even live music, someone at an old piano and a few men with guitars making due with what they have. Even though she slips to the back of the room, leaning up against the wall, trying to blend in to the background, her ears still prick to the whispers starting to pass around the room about her. But she doesn’t care about that, not when she sees Ellie, dancing and laughing with another girl whom she’s pretty sure is named Dina. Her heart flips at the sight, and she can’t help but smile watching the pair transition into a very awkward slow dance. She doesn’t have much time to enjoy the scene, however, when a rough hand comes to her shoulder.

“Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence.”

…

Under any other circumstances, Joel wouldn’t be caught dead at something like this dance. But, with only a little grumbling, he decided to go along with Ellie after she mentioned that she had a date for it. There won’t be any funny business going on, not on his watch, though he has to admit that it’s nice to see her having a good time with Dina, the girl that has been making much more frequent appearances at their house lately.

Leaning back against one of the walls of the mess hall, his eyes wander around the crowd, stuttering stopped when he sees her across the room. There’s no two ways about it, he’s been avoiding her, trying to get his mind right before he jumped any further into something he couldn’t see the bottom of.

It felt like something clicked when Mason talked to him that night at the bar. About her meddling. Suddenly, he had to ask himself why he had fallen so quickly for her when he hadn’t been able to feel anything like that in decades. It was too good to be true. As if by– well, as if by magic. So, he’s been keeping his distance, though it’s not like that’s actually helped him resolve his feelings for her, and now, he can’t help but stare at her like a total fool, frowning when he notices the scrunch of discomfort clear on her face. That’s when he notices the man leaning next to her, his face turned down to speak directly into her ear, a hand gripping her shoulder to keep her where she is.

Joel is moving through the crowd toward them before his brain can even catch up.

…

“Can I help you, Mason?” She keeps her eyes trained forward, only catching the sneer of his smile from the corner of her vision as he crowds up next to her.

“Down, girl. Can’t a guy be nice? Just wanted to come by and say hello.” She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and jerking her chin toward him just slightly.

“Well, you’ve said hello. Now why don’t you go find some other lucky lady to bother?” He barks out a laugh, letting it fizzle into a sigh. She can’t quite twist her face away quick enough as he brings his hand - the one that isn’t gripping her shoulder - up to graze his fingers along her cheek.

“Don’t be like that, miss witch. I’m sorry for giving you and Miller a hard time. Though it seems like he couldn’t handle the heat.” She’s heard enough, shrugging out of his grip and shuffling through the crowd to get out of the mess hall and as far away from him as she can. But Mason is nothing if not persistent.

“Now, now, can’t say I mind a little chase, sweetheart. But let’s cut the bullshit, huh?” She chokes on a gasp when he grabs her from behind, a solid forearm barred across her chest as he pulls her into the shadows behind the mess hall, shoving her hard up against the exterior wall.

“Since Miller got a taste and is still standing, I figure I oughta find out what all the fuss is about myself.” His hands pin her against the wall by her shoulders, one heavy boot pressed over the top of her sneaker to keep her still. She can smell the liquor on his breath his face is so close to hers. It’s a reflex borne out of pure disgust when she rears her head back as best she can and spits in his face. Mason just laughs.

“Oh, little witch, you’re going to regret that.” With that, his grip on her shoulders tightens, slamming her hard against the wall, once, twice, three times, her ears ringing and her skull ricocheting from the impact. Everything goes a bit tilted in the aftermath, her brain fuzzy and spinning as she slumps back against the wall, barely registering Mason getting wrenched away from her. She steadies herself with a hand pressed to her forehead, finally realizing that someone has laid Mason out on the ground before her, fist rearing up again and again to rain down on the man’s face.

“J-Joel?”

…

He’d like to keep punching until he feels bone shatter beneath his knuckles, his mind alight with a pure, clear rage as he batters Mason’s face. Joel hadn’t been quick enough following them out of the mess hall, and by the time he was rounding the side of the building, he only just caught the way Mason had slammed her against the wall, her head jerking like a rag doll’s. If left to his own devices, Joel reckons that he’d just keep throwing his fist down until the bastard was no longer breathing. But her voice is enough to cut through the haze, stopping him where he’s kneeling over Mason’s limp body as he whips his head around to look at her.

Her eyes are wide, tears glinting in the fading summer light, her arms outstretched in front of her, palms open as if to reach for him. Joel’s shoulders slacken under her gaze, but before he gets up, he leans back over Mason, dragging his face up by a harsh grip on the collar of his shirt.

“If you so much as look at her again, I will know, and I won’t be feeling so generous the next time. Do you understand?” Mason’s head is crooked back on his neck, eyes drooping closed and mouth agape, blood smeared across his face. But Joel doesn’t give a shit, he just needs to hear him say it.

“Do you understand?” He punctuates his words with a harsh jerk of his hands in the man’s shirt collar, making his head jerk and loll.

“I-I understand! I understand– please– please don’t– I won’t f-f-fucking touch her, I swear!” Mason’s words come out garbled by the thick blood pooling in his mouth, but Joel has heard enough, letting go of the man’s collar and letting him slump back down onto the ground. Joel’s mind is still swimming in a hot tide of anger when he stands up, the only feeling he can really register is the smarting sting of his split knuckles. And then, a firm palm on his shoulder finally gets him to turn away from Mason’s curled-up figure.

“We should go. I can take care of that hand for you.”

…

“A lot of plants in here.”

“Mmhmm.” She absentmindedly responds to Joel’s mumbled observation, jerkily moving around her kitchen to gather what she needs to fix up his knuckles. She doesn’t let her mind linger on the fact that he’s the first other person who has been inside her house in years, instead focusing her thoughts on the clean, damp rag in her hand as she sits down across from him at her kitchen table. She hesitates to reach for him, but he willingly offers his hand to her, his eyes a weighty heat as she starts to daub away the smeared blood on his knuckles. She works quietly, keeping her head tilted down toward the task, not daring to meet his gaze, though she feels it like a force of nature sweeping over her.

“Are you– are you alright?” Her hands still where she had been working away at his injury, and she has to take a deep breath to smooth the warble in her throat before she answers him.

“I-I’m fine– just a little shaken up– um, literally.” It’s a horrible attempt at a joke to lighten the mood, she knows it the second the words leave her mouth, his hand curling into a fist on the table.

“I am fine, really. Thank you– for stopping him. I wouldn’t have been able– I couldn’t–” He stops her stuttered words, resting his palm over both of her shaking hands on the table. Her eyes finally meet his, and for a moment, there’s just sweetness. But then she remembers the reality that it took her nearly getting assaulted for Joel to stop avoiding her, and she quickly jerks her hands away from his, scrubbing harshly at her eyes with the heels of her palms.

“Why did you– how– why were you out there?” He sighs, long and low, sitting back in his chair.

“I saw him bothering you in the mess hall. Guess I followed you out.”

“Why?” She can’t look at him, not right now, or she’ll get tangled up all over again. So instead, she keeps her eyes on her hands clasped in front of her on the table, listening to the huff he lets out at her question.

“Just wanted to make sure you were alright.” She can’t help the bitter laugh that spills out at that, looking up at him, his brow furrowed at her reaction.

“I’m sorry, I guess I have a hard time believing that when you haven’t so much as looked at me in nearly a month.” Joel presses his lips in a thin line, his jaw ticking slightly as he looks at her.

“I’ll admit that I’ve been– keeping my distance–” She scoffs at his choice of words, but he continues speaking.

“But you didn’t tell me the whole truth.” That gives her pause, her fidgeting fingers going still at the stern tinge to his voice. Before she answers, she takes his hand back in hers, getting back to work on wrapping his already swelling knuckles.

“What do you mean?”

“Heard a little more about you. How you like getting involved in other people’s business.” “I thought you didn’t care what other people said about me.” He lets out a harsh sigh, pulling his now bandaged hand away and raking his fingers through his hair, tugging lightly in clear frustration.

“It’s a little hard not to when it seems like you’re not being straight with me, darlin.” She tries to tamp it down, but her chest still squeezes at the term of endearment, though she’s quick to clear her throat of the rising feeling.

“Ellie told me about your– nudges? S’what she called them, I think.” Her stomach twists at that. Though it’s not exactly a secret that she has a proclivity for helping folks, mostly women, with their troubled love lives, she had been trying to keep that away from him. She hadn’t even considered that Ellie would tell him about it, a stupid mistake, she realizes. Anyways, it’s become a lot rarer for someone to come to her for that, Ellie the first in many months, though she can admit that she used to be a lot more involved, and a lot less subtle with it.

“I just– I need you to be real honest with me right now. Did you– do something to me?” That makes her laugh, any anxiety quickly getting displaced by anger. Yep, just like the rest of them.

“Is it so hard to believe you liked me that you need to explain it away with fucking magic?” She spits out the word as if it sits sour on her tongue, her eyes narrowing at him. When he doesn’t answer, lips parted and wide eyes just staring at her, she lets out another laugh.

“Believe this, Joel. I didn’t do anything to you. I don’t do things to people, that’s not how I work, no matter what anyone tells you.” Finished talking, she slumps back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose as a throbbing headache settles in.

“You said liked?” She cracks one eye open, seeing him now leaning forward, his hands clasped on the table as he looks at her.

“What– what’re you talking about?”

“You said I liked you– like I don’t anymore.”

“Don’t you?” He shakes his head, eyes shimmering in the dim light of her kitchen.

“No– I mean, I never stopped– liking you, that is. Fuck– I feel so lost, darlin. You gotta understand that I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Didn’t think I ever would again. And then– then you show up and I-I feel like I’m back in highschool or some shit. You’ve got me smitten like a fucking fool and I barely know you– and it feels impossible.” She’s a bit shocked by his words, musing to herself that this might be the most she’s heard Joel say at once. And apparently he isn’t done either.

“I want this, want you, probably more than I should. But Christ, I don’t think I can do this unless you tell me the whole story, your whole story.” She sees her path forked so clearly in that moment. She could shut down and throw him out, tell Ellie that she won’t be needing her help anymore, sever these threads just as she’s gotten so good at doing. But the truth is, she feels much the way Joel does. This is uncharted territory for her, these threads that she doesn’t want to cut, but instead tug closer and closer. And so, she makes the choice to walk a path that she hasn’t ever before.

When she finally speaks, she starts at the beginning.

#joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller series #joel miller imagine #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou

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miscfandomwrites · 5 months

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A/N: Little Drabble I've been working on that I figured was good enough to post. And yes, Konig will be in here because I say so and also because I have a huge little crush on him. Easiest way to describe sunshine is that while she doesn't do active field work (unless absolutely necessary) she is still very scary and cute at the same time.

Pairing: Poly! Shifter! Tf141 + Konig x Rabbit Shifter! F Reader

Warnings: Language, dude being a creep, r being a little creepy.

Words: 507

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

Located: Under MW2 -> Sunshine Series

“Oh really? That’d be really cool! I bet Gaz would love to come too! He’s been wanting to see that movie for ages!” I told Gavin as he slowly stalked towards me, something akin to a dark smile on his face.

I held my hand to the side carefully and made my palm flat, the sign for stop as I could hear the boys slowly getting up and walking towards me. Perks of being a rabbit, I guess.

I smiled at him as I turned my body a bit and opened one of the kitchen drawers, sliding out the chef knife I loved so dearly.

One of the many things I learned from culinary school: Keep your knives sharp, and your enemies unaware.

I was forced against the counter as he stood in front of me, licking his lips as if he was a wolf eyeing a delicious meal.

“Oh bunny, I don’t think you understand, I’m telling you that I want to-”

Before he could finish the sentence, I held up the knife to his neck, starting to force him backwards.

I put on my cheerful voice and the bright face that I used when typically dealing with animals or small children, and smiled at him.

“Oh, I understand completely! Y’know, right this is your windpipe, “ I said as I lightly traced the knife down and up his throat, using small enough pressure to leave slices but not enough to make him react more “And here is your esophagus, Oh! And right beside them are your main arteries that lead to your brain! If they were to get a small slice in them, You could die within two minutes! Isn’t that pretty neat?” I grinned at him, successfully backing him out of the kitchen as I dug the knife a little harder into his neck.

“Y-You fucking bitch-” he stammered, I tsked and drug the knife across to the other artery, and did the same to it.

“You really should know better than to mess with a girl in her own kitchen.” I told him.

“Let alone in front of her pack.” a deep, german-accented voice spoke from behind me, and without having to look I knew it was Konig.

At that point, I saw Gavin cower, his ears flattening against his head as he quite literally turned tail and ran.

“Great, now I have to wash the blood off of this.” I sighed, heading towards the sink.

“That was fucking creepy, lass.” Soap spoke up, arms crossed his chest as he tried to calm himself down from fully shifting.

I shrugged. “Hey, he asked for it. There’s a reason I’m called Sunshine after all!” I told him with a smile.

As soon as the adrenaline wore off my temper dropped, still with a smile on my face I carefully hand washed and dried off the knife before sliding it back into its drawer.

Straightening out my apron, I turned back to the boys with my hands clasped in front of me.

“Now, who wants dinner?”

#task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 #cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #konig x reader #miscfandomwrites

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nerdieforpedro · 2 months

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He told me his name

The Mandalorian/ Din Djarin x plus size female reader

My entire blog is 18+ MDNI

Word Count: approx. 1.3k

Summary: It's not clear if you enter The Mandalorian's orbit or you enter his, but slowly the two of you are growing closer.

Warnings: vague mentions of mechanic work, HANDS (It's my thing about Din okay?!), fluff, some violence, blood, injuries and first aid

Notes: I've wanted to write another Din fic for a while and didn't have any sparks. Then I read @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin 's Din fic (Sorgan girls Are Easy) she put out yesterday which is excellent. I had my spark. ⚡️ Though the fic I wrote isn't similar to hers at all. Not even in the same category. 🤣 My fic is very moody. I might write a follow-up one shot to this. Not another series!

Dividers are by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist / Din Djarin Masterlist /Our Journey Across the Star Ocean

Lingering near your workstation had you curious, but you chalked it up to just being curious about how you worked. You’re aware that your organization, separation and tinkering can be slower than other mechanics but it also means you don’t need to double check your work as often.

The Mandalorian was intimidating and never rude or even commanding. In fact he was polite and let Peli speak to him pretty casually. You only said hello and goodbye.

That’s why it struck you with surprise when Peli asked during one evening card game with the droids if you’d consider riding with the “walking tin can” as she put it. You blinked and asked why you, shouldn’t he be asking her to come with him. She told you that she had a business to run and she’s not gallivanting around with a trigger happy bounty hunter who has to keep track of an adorable but absurdly strong baby.

“You need some excitement anyway. You’ll just waste away here without any good memories or fun stories to tell. It will just be a life of regrets of paths not taken.”

Her words rang in your head as the small green child sat in your lap. The Mandalorian was at the controls, silently charting their course. Was this a good decision?

He allowed you to come with him when he got his tracking fobs and when he turned in his bounties. The first touch was between your shoulder blade to your back, guiding you and the child through the market back to the Razor Crest.

The second was when his gloved hands touched yours while trying to improve your aim using a blaster. His voice was more gentle than his normal flat one. Closer to what he used with Grogu but still not as much warmth. It was enough to have you believe him to be kind.

The third happened after he brought a bounty back to the ship and he saw Grogu patting your cheeks as you spoke to him. Explaining about what different bolts did, it looked like you were organizing your tools again. His gloved hand was placed on your shoulder which had you peer up at his t-visor. He gave you a nod and went to inventory his weapons. Maybe it wasn’t just kindness. Maybe he believes you to be useful, a smile creeps along your face.

Such small gestures continued until you took Grogu out for a walk.

It was a fairly green planet and Din said it was safe, you didn’t wander far from the ship as it was still in view. The first crawling plant you saw and shot it through and through with your blaster. The second, nipped your leg but you were able to knock it off and shot it twice. On the way back to the ship you were clear, but one jumped the gangway and a tentacle sliced across your back before you were able to turn and shoot it. You limped back into the Razor Crest and were able to clean and dress your leg but not your back. Grogu wouldn’t stop screaming and you kept moving him away from you to not get blood on the poor child.

The bounty hunter saw you, quickly put his bounty on carbonate and grabbed the bacta spray. He spoke to his son and was able to calm him slightly as he ripped your shirt and bra to try and access the wound on your back but the blood and secretions in your wound from the tentacle made it increasingly difficult as you bled.

“I apologize for this. I’ll need to cut off the rest of the back of your shirt to clean and apply the spray and…” He paused. The Mandalorian you know never paused, he was always measured in his speech, even with Grogu. “It may be easier for me to do if I remove my gloves. They’ve become too slick with your blood. Is that alright?” You found it puzzling that he was asking permission considering it’s one of the main tenets of his religion. You didn’t care either way as long as the bleeding and pain stopped.

“It’s fine Mando. Do what you need to do. Grogu’s okay right? I didn’t get any blood on him, I think.”

You closed your eyes and heard the Mandalorian give a few curses as he removed his gloves, warm calloused fingers were dabbing your back and applying pressure. After holding it a few minutes, you felt the cool spray of the bacta and some patches being applied with more pressure. There seemed to be less pain and your back didn’t feel like a dripping pool so you counted your lucky stars and thanked the Maker that the bounty hunter had come back earlier than later. You felt something soft spread over your body and you were lifted off the floor of the ship and brought to your cot. How did he lift you so easily? Did beskar help with that? You didn’t think so, but you know next to nothing about the stuff. It was there that you drifted off to sleep.

When you awoke later, Grogu had tucked himself on your pillow with a small green hand on your cheek. It made you feel happy to see the little green one next to you, but you felt something in your hand. It was what had been on your back. Mando had one of his gloves off and was holding your hand with his bare one. His other hand was touching Grogu’s back but his glove was on. You turned away for a moment to let a tear fall. He cares about you, you’re more than useful, maybe.

Grogu remained asleep but Mando awoke, squeezing your hand in his. “You’re awake? Has the pain subsided? I should check-” You turned back to shush him and carefully sat up, the blanket falling off your partially and he released your hand to pull it around you. The back of your shirt was open and had fallen forward some when you got up, but not expose anything thankfully. “You should keep warm. We’re on our way back to turn in the bounty. I-I am sorry.”

“There’s no reason to be sorry. They came out of nowhere. I was able to not get killed because of the blaster shots you had me practice and Grogu’s safe so-” Since you’re not holding Mando’s hand any longer, you grasp the blanket, to have something in your hand.

“You were not safe. You were hurt badly. Do…I would not blame you if you wanted to leave.” His register is low, not threatening, but there’s sadness in it. He was sitting at your bedside mere moments ago. You wished to hop back in time and keep still so you wouldn't wake him. Just to have stayed in that moment a bit longer…

“I refuse to go. I will not. You’ll have to toss me off. I’ve seen so many things and places and I want to see that much more. You’re stuck with me Mando.” The blanket drops as you release it and you grab his bare hand with both of yours. “I’m not going to but. I just don’t want to go.” Speaking as you lock your eyes on his t-visor, a deep hum is heard from the hunter, but you remain firm.

“I am called Din. Please do so while it’s just the three of us.” His thumb ran across your palm and tickled your skin making you chuckle. “You will remain and hopefully I will hear more of your laugh.” Your smile only grows with his answer. “Please rest for now. Our journey isn’t over.”

Space Buddies: @linzels-blog @maggiemayhemnj @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @missladym1981 @morallyinept @sherala007 @yorksgirl @daddy-dins-girl @magpiepills @megamindsecretlair @anoverwhelmingdin @theincredibleinkspitter @alltheglitterandtheroar @mrsmando @drawingdroid @harriedandharassed @i-own-loki @lady-bess @undercoverpena @pedroshotwifey

#A Nerdie fic #pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin x plus size reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you

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burntheedges · 23 days

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Passing Notes: Flat

Frankie Morales x f!reader | 1.5k words | Passing Notes masterlist

summary: You get a flat tire in the middle of nowhere (ugh) but a handsome man comes to rescue you (yay).

a/n: happy gift exchange, Jo! @undercoverpena I hope you enjoy this little Frankie fic. He’s inspired by your fic the book of love, maybe just a couple universes over from that one. @swiftiscruff

tags/warnings: flat tire, reader is briefly worried about being alone with a stranger in the middle of nowhere, cows, flirting, pet names (hermosa, baby), reader walks around but is otherwise not described

...

“UGH!” you yelled, kicking your tire in frustration. You yelled again when it actually hurt. You groaned as you sank down onto the little grassy area by the side of the road and dropped your head into your hands.

You’d decided to take the slow and scenic way home, for some godforsaken reason. You were still new in town, you’d told yourself. You needed to explore, to get a feel for the place. And what was your reward? A flat tire on the side of a two-lane highway, with no one around for miles.

You stared at your flat tire.

It stared back.

You’d known it was bad, the second you drove over that bump. You’d felt it, somehow, and when you pulled over and saw the flat, it hadn’t been a surprise at all. Even if it was unwelcome.

You sat up a little and looked back down the road the way you’d come – nothing. Just fields. And some trees. Well, there were a few cows. You’d named the big brown one that was watching you Bessie at first glance. Not that they were much help.

You sighed and stood up. You shielded your eyes with your hand as you turned in a slow circle, looking for signs of anything like people anywhere around.

No luck. Just fields, trees, and more cows.

You reached into your pocket, already knowing what you’d find as you looked at your phone again.

No signal.

So here you were, flat tire, no cell service, nothing around but you and Bessie and her friends. As you stood there, frozen, one of the cows let out a low moooo that made you sigh. Relatable.

You pictured the inside of your trunk in your mind, the empty space inside that meant you were stuck here.

No spare tire.

You’d used it, just a few months ago, and hadn’t replaced it yet. And so you were stranded.

You could feel the hysteria creeping up on the outside of your mind and you shook your head, willing it away. No. What was that going to get you, anyway? You’re stuck. Figure it out.

You sighed and moved back towards your car, hopping up to sit on your trunk so you could look back the way you came. Maybe someone would drive by soon? At least you still had daylight for a few more hours.

Please, universe, you whispered in your mind. Please, I promise I’ll replace the stupid spare this time. I swear. You leaned back against your rear window and closed your eyes.

Just as you’d resigned yourself to actually having to get up and walk, you heard it.

It started as a low rumble you mentally attributed to the cows. But then it got louder, loud enough for you to recognize the sound of a truck engine coming up the road in the distance.

You shot up, hand back over your eyes, squinting in the sun. It was real. A dark red truck, kind of old, kicking up dust as it rattled down the highway towards you. You grinned as you jumped off your car, landing in the grass and starting to wave your arms.

It occurred to you as you did so that maybe you didn’t want to talk to this stranger – you were alone, after all. Well, with Bessie, but what was she going to do? Moo at them? But it wasn’t like you could hide anywhere. The driver had probably seen you well before you’d seen them.

As the truck got closer your trepidation grew, and you tried to will yourself into being calm. You took a deep breath.

But thankfully your worry was short lived, because then the truck got close enough for you to recognize it. Hard not to, when you’d seen it just a few hours ago, parked outside your bookshop. You’d shared a lingering glance with its owner and traced the outline of his shy smile, watched his hands as they’d removed his cap and smoothed down his unruly curls. Bit your lip as your gaze dropped when he walked away.

You would have known that truck anywhere.

Frankie Morales pulled up next to you and rolled down his window. You grinned, so fucking relieved to see him. He smiled back, slow as sin and smooth as molasses. He slipped his sunglasses off and met your gaze.

“Car trouble, hermosa?” He winked. “Or were you making some new friends?”

You laughed. He’d teased you earlier that same day about being new in town and needing to get out more. You’d hoped he was going to ask you on a date, but he’d left shortly after. “Who, Bessie?” You gestured in her direction and she obliged you with a low moooo. “No, we go way back.”

Frankie snorted and shook his head before pulling his truck off the road in front of your car. You heard it turn off before he slipped out and came to meet you by your troublesome tire.

“Well, I’m glad I found you. Not much service out here, you know.”

You nodded and waved your phone at him. “I’d noticed. Me too, I’m so happy to see you. I was just about to the point where I was going to try to walk back to town.”

He smirked. “Long walk.”

You groaned again and let your head fall back. “I know. So you really are rescuing me.” When you looked up again you found that he was blushing and you smiled, charmed.

Frankie cleared his throat. “Well, what’s the problem? I could help you put the spare on, but I remember you told me about changing your tire the other week. So that must not be it.”

You shivered. He remembered. That had been one of your first conversations, weeks ago at this point. It made you feel warm to know he’d been paying attention.

“You’re right. The problem is there isn’t a spare. I haven’t replaced the old one.” You tried not to look embarrassed, but you felt it.

He just smiled at you. “Well, then we probably can’t fix it now, but I can give you a ride home, at least. And bring you back with a new spare. Or to meet a tow truck. They probably won’t be able to meet you until tomorrow, at this point.”

“Oh, you can just take me home, that's ok–”

“Hey,” he reached out and put his hand on your upper arm. He squeezed, gently, and your breath caught. “I’m happy to help, hermosa. I want to help.” He looked at you so intently you couldn’t look away.

“Ok, Frankie.” He smiled at you. “If you insist.”

“I do.” He squeezed your arm again and then slid his hand down and held yours lightly. “Grab your stuff.”

You did, and soon enough you were sitting next to Frankie in his truck as he turned it back onto the highway.

“Do you drive this way a lot?” You were marveling at your luck, in having Frankie come along. Of all people.

“Most days,” he agreed. “You know I live over by the river. It’s a little bit longer of a drive, but nicer to look at.”

You nodded. “I remember you told me that. It’s why I went this way.”

“Oh, no,” he glanced at you and reached out to hold your hand again. “It’s my fault? Shit, hermosa, you got stranded because of my idea?”

You laughed. “It’s not your fault, Frankie.”

He smiled a little and shook his head. “Still. Sorry my idea didn’t turn out so great for you.”

You turned towards him a little, looking over his face and his shoulders, watching the muscles move in his arm as he turned the truck at the next road.

“I don’t know,” you mused, squeezing his hand. “Think it might have turned out pretty great after all.”

You watched as a grin took over his face and felt a matching one on your own.

“Yeah?” he breathed the question in a low voice, turning to look at you as he arrived at a stop sign. There was no one around and he didn’t immediately move to continue driving. “Why’s that?”

You swallowed hard and straightened in your seat. “Well, Frankie, I promised myself I was going to say this the next time I saw you, and here you are.” He watched your mouth as you spoke and it was all the encouragement you needed. “Do you want to have dinner? Together. Maybe tonight? Or soon.” You were rambling now. “It’s ok if you’re busy. I mean–”

“Hey, shh,” he hushed you gently. “Not um… Not as just a thank you, right?”

“No!” you hurried to reassure him. “No, Frankie. I was sort of hoping you’d ask me out earlier, when you came by the shop.”

He smiled and lifted your hands to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I almost did. Chickened out at the last second.” He pressed another kiss to the back of your hand and you bit your lip. “Hermosa, I would love to get dinner with you. Tonight.”

With that, he put the car in drive, and turned left. “Now let’s get you home, baby. And then I’ll pick you up at 7.”

You laughed. “Perfect.”

And it was.

#PPCUGiftExchange2024 #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco catfish morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #x reader #bte friendship exchange

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mystsee · 7 months

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DRIFTED ✦ SIMON GHOST RILEY

PREV ✦ PART 3 ✦ NEXT

✦ about: being around simon again felt surreal, but duty calls = past memories flood back ;(

✦ content: afab reader, fluff, breakup mentions, no mask, no mentions of y/n.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

opening your eyes, a strong smell of pancakes hit you, making your stomach rumble. sleeping more than 15 hours was making you feel like you had an empty hole in your stomach. at first, you thought lily was cooking for you, it was very usual that lily stayed over in your flat. but this sight you were not expecting it at all!

as you stood up, you forgot about your leg, you felt the pain creep up, but you made it wincing up to the door, feeling pain on your hip now, but hunger was making you desperate!

when you opened the door, you froze. you saw simon, with no shirt on, his back to you, cooking pancakes, for you? you had no idea he stayed over, in fact, you don’t remember very good what happened yesterday, this was quite the surprise.

you stood there for god knows how long, thinking you were being discrete, but you must’ve known by now simon has a 6th sense “see anything you like” his deep voice alone made you squirm on your spot. when did he saw you?

but you woke up confident today, not even thinking the slightest before you talked “what can i say? i’ve always loved your back” simon was taken a back for a second, maybe the meds were still on you.

“why are you even up? you shouldn’t walk by yourself” simon knew you wouldn’t do what the doctor told you and stand up by yourself hence why he was shirtless.

“i can! look, just give me a minute” simon turned and saw you taking one step at a time, not wanting to show your limping, and just laughed to himself, if there was one thing you would never ask for, is for help.

simon turned off the stove and walked over to you “will you ever ask for help?” just when simon was in front of you, your leg decided to stop functioning for a second, making you almost fall over, but once again, simon put his hands around your back, making stand up in front of his chest.

you got distracted for a second, just admiring his chest from here, you could sleep in there for ever! you felt simon nudge you by poking you on your left side of your waist, he knew you were way too ticklish, so you made a very embarrassing shriek “simon!” you said trying to move away from him, but he had very strong arms which you loved “don’t do that” you said pouting.

“then stop trying to hurt yourself love” there was that nickname again, and the blush coming up your neck. even more when suddenly simon put his arms around your thighs and picked you up. “wha-what are you doing?!” simon just started walking to your kitchen, you felt one of his hands on your waist, and the other under your thighs. maybe on the outside you were acting shocked, but you were enjoying this.

“i’m not done cooking” you were so close to him now, that you could feel his deep voice resonating on his chest, again, you could sleep here forever. simon put you on top of the counter next to the stove. he stayed in between you for a few seconds, maybe he is going to say something you thought but he just moved to turn on the stove again.

after a very nice and full breakfast with simon, you told him you would clean the dishes, he obviously refused, but a phone call suddenly sounded on your flat. simon just took a deep breath “sorry love, need to take that” he sounded disappointed “sure, no problem!” now you could clean the dishes simon making a whole breakfast for you was making you feel guilty because you never helped at all :(

by the time you finished cleaning, simon emerged out of your room, you couldn’t read his body language, but the air in the room changed. “come ‘ere, just leave that” simon picked you up again. shrieking you said “stop picking me up simon!” you said in between nervous laughs “if i don’t do this, you’ll try walking all by yourself” he just knew you so well…

he lowered you to your sofa, sitting next to you. he put you sideways, so when he sat, your ankles could lay on his lap. you felt his hands massage your ankles softly miracle hands “uh” simon seemed nervous “what?” you said with a small laugh “i need to leave love” for a second, you felt all the blood drain from you, was he leaving you, for you good? you knew it was too good to be true. him being here with you again, he probably felt bad for you

“leaving? what do you mea-“

“i mean that i’m being deployed, for a month”

simon remembers this was the exact reason you two broke up, it was hard being with someone you could see just for a week, or days sometimes. he understood that, and you were in all your right to do that.

“simon, i’m sorry, it’s just too much” simon saw you all cuddled up in the couch, he just came back from deployment, and the first thing he saw was you, the tv off, a numb gaze to the wall. anxiety building in his stomach. he knew something was wrong ever since he left.

“what do you mean?” he kneeled in front of you grabbing your legs, extending them to the floor so he could lay his hands on your knees “every time you leave, i’m worried sick about you, i can barely see you now!”

that was true, he could barely see you now that he was promoted to lieutenant, meaning he had to be more time on base, deployed, working, etc. while he was happy to be ranked up to this level, he knew your relationship was slowly dying.

he could feel you shaking from where he was, the way he could also feel your next words “i don’t think i’m prepared for this simon, i just can’t”

simon felt all the air on him leave, he saw it coming, yet he never thought of how would he react. he just moved his hands from your knees, and just stared at your legs “i’m sorry simon, i know i always told you i would never leave, but, it’s hard for me” he saw the tears threatening to fall again.

breaking up with him was a very hard decision you made. simon was your life, your love and happiness, you knew deep down this was a bad decision. but it was too much. anxiety was worse everytime he left. not joking, every time he left you felt like 15 years of your life passed. your anxiety was just way too bad. you couldn’t eat, you couldn’t sleep. it was like your soul left with him, which was such a weird feeling for you perhaps it was love but you never said it out loud.

“hey, it’s okay, i understand it, a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be worried for a bastard like m-“ “you’re not a bastard simon”

you never let simon talk bad about himself, even when you’re in the middle of a breakup.

simon didn’t feel right all the time he was without you, like something was missing with him. yet, he dealt with it. but now, having you with him again, the need to protect you 1000x more, and having to leave again, was making him anxious

“oh” he could hear the disappointment in your voice “where will you be going?” “mexico” “hot weather huh?, will you be prepared for that?” “love, i’ve been in a desert for a month, i’m sure as hell i’ll be okay” you felt simon intense stare on you, you knew what he was thinking

“riley, please, it’s been 2 years.” you said holding his hand softly “it’s your job, who am i to stop you?” you said smiling. it was true, being a soldier was what he decided to do, and he is proud as hell for that, as well as you “just come back okay?” “promise love” “and bring me a leaf or a rock, please” you asked simon smiling at him, and who was he to deny you?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a month without him ;’(

do give me ur opinions and allat!! it inspires me hehe

taglist

@the-queen-of-england183 @sluttyforsimon @hotaruteba @honey-on-mars @actorryswife

#simon ghost riley #protective simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley civilian life #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley x female #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon riley x you #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #cod #simon ghost riley fluff #ghost cod

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