#every time i get one of these in my inbox my heart melts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 29 days

Text

Half A Bed

No, this is not the "only one bed" trope I'm afraid, although if anyone has any ideas for a fic w that trope, do drop you ideas in the inbox!

Summary: You and Astarion share a bed

At this point, it has become a habit for Astarion to move and leave half his bed free for you to plop yourself on whenever you enter his tent, despite all his grumbling about needing to move from his comfortable position. You then accept the invitation and happily lie down next to him, stretching your arms above your head with a relaxed sigh.

Tonight, Astarion wraps his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck and deeply inhales your scent. He loves how you smell like him, bergamot filling his nose and he lets out a contented sigh. You exude a pleasant warmth as per usual, sharply contrasting his own cold body. He shifts a little so that you can wrap an arm around him, nestling him in a cocoon of your embrace. His cold slender finger draws random shapes on your stomach while he rests his head on your shoulder, enjoying the silence that has befallen his tent.

It wasn’t long ago when such silence would have made him uncomfortable, unsure of what to do, unsure of what you wanted to do, but you had explained yourself upon noticing his discomfort, telling him that sometimes you were just too tired to do anything but still wanted his company. He had agreed to allowing you to do that, despite his reservations about what he himself could do during that time but soon realised that you really didn’t mind what he did.

If he felt just as exhausted as you, he would simply lie next to you, cuddling in the bed. If he still had some energy to spend, he would play with your hair or trace doodles on your stomach. If he felt peckish, he would drink from your neck. The only thing he couldn’t quite bring himself to do was trance whilst you were still awake. He told himself it was because he wanted to watch over you, but in reality, it was because deep down, he still feared that one day you would leave him.

The comfortable silence washes over the both of you, save for the quiet sound of your breathing and the rustle of book pages as you read the book you had brought along with you.

You glance down to check on your vampire lover, a small smile on your face when you notice how relaxed he is and start running your hand through his hair with your free hand. He croons in response and leans into the rhythmic touch, letting the calm wash over him. Your smile only grows wider, a small chuckle slipping from your lips which causes Astarion to look up at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“What, may I ask, is so funny?”

“Nothing, Star. Don’t worry.” You press a kiss to his creased forehead. “Although, if you keep frowning like that, there will be permanent wrinkles on your forehead.”

“Excuse me? I am a vampire! Eternally young and beautiful, all thanks to my already handsome features from before I was turned.” He huffs, burrowing his face deeper into your shoulder.

“Mmhm, if you say so,” you hum, setting aside your book to fully focus on him. As you play with strands of his curly silver hair, he gives yet another exaggerated huff, wrapping his arms around you and lightly nips at your exposed shoulder. He gives you a pout as he has done many times before and at this point, you would think you’d be immune to it but something about the way he pouts makes your heart melt each and every time.

“Come here,” you groan, rolling over to wrap your arms around him. He grins, happily nuzzling into your shoulder and welcomes the familiar embrace, filled with warmth and love. He feels safest like this, knowing that whatever happens, he will always have you to return to, that you will always have his back just like he has yours. You’re also permanently warm, and while that was something you found annoying, Astarion thanked whoever it was that made you such. He never needed to worry about the cold, not when all he needed to do was snuggle against you whenever he started to get cold, or simply felt like it. Not once did you ever turn him down, and he doubted you would ever do so.

You bury your face into his soft curls, suppressing yet another chuckle when you hear him mutter something along the lines of being one of the most beautiful vampires in all of Faerun.

“My apologies, one of the most beautiful vampires in all of Faerun.” You snort.

“Apology accepted,” he crows, ego stroked.

You can’t help but laugh, holding him close and pressing more kisses to the top of his head.

“Simply calling you beautiful doesn’t do you justice, you know.” You ruffle his hair.

“Oh? Do go on, darling.” His eyes twinkle with amusement and happiness.

“You see,” you indulge him, “it’s really easy to call you beautiful because everyone does that, and the phrase ends up losing all meaning. Calling you…say…‘my entire world’ however, still holds a lot of meaning because nobody else calls you that.” You’re not sure why you’re being sappy tonight but you do know that you’re more than happy to give Astarion all the compliments in the world and more. He deserves at least that much.

Tears prick the edges of his eyes at your words and he quickly buries his tearing face in your shoulder, not wanting you to see how your words have affected him.

“It means everything, coming from you,” he whispers, the words struggling to leave his clogged up throat. He squeezes your hand tightly, hoping that the small gesture can convey everything he cannot say and from the look you give him, you’ve received the message.

He shifts to rest his head on your chest, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and closes his eyes, letting the feeling he can’t qute describe wash over him. He sinks into the endless abyss of warmth that is you, barely aware of your arm moving to wrap around him to pull him closer but he likes the support that it brings. Even if he were to sink, he knows — no trusts — that you will be there to catch him. Maybe he could let his guard down for just a little while, a short respite from the exhausting day and trust that when he opens his eyes again, you’ll still be there, watching over him with that soft look in your eyes. You wouldn’t leave him when he’s at his most vulnerable, would you?

Ignoring the nagging feeling in his heart, he lets himself slip into a trance, lulled by the soothing sound of your heartbeat and the warmth of your body heat. It’s times like these where he misses being alive, he wishes he could feel his own heartbeat, feel the warmth of his body but when you still curl up against him even on the chilliest of nights, he thinks to himself that perhaps he is alright the way he is, with his cold undead body and sanguine hunger. You may have already told him such when he was confronted with the choice of ascending but while you may have accepted him as who he is, he still struggles with it from time to time. Doubts continue to claw at his thoughts, no matter how many times you drive them away, but if you will continue fighting against them for him, he will not give up.

Your heart flutters when you realise he’s drifting off into a trance. He subconsciously curls tighter into your side, fingers tightly grasping whatever they can reach.

“Rest well, my star.” You murmur, lips ghosting his forehead. It doesn’t take long for you to drift off as well, holding your world in your arms.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion x durge #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #astarion fluff #astarion fanfic #astarion fic

786 notes · View notes

wonderlandwalker · 4 months

Text

After All These Years | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: You think he no longer cares, and he thinks you're better off without him. But the reaping for the 75th hunger games puts a dent in both of those thoughts

Content Warnings/Tags: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, insinuations of smut, kissing, once again not proofread

Requested by @rottingpeache: absolutely need to see enemies to lovers with finnick. “I really don’t like you.” “And I really don’t believe you.”

Word Count: 1k

A/N: No clue if this is actually enemies to lovers or just a poor attempt at it. I'm gonna go take a nap now but there is more coming cause the requests sparked something in me again so thank you to everyone who sent them!!

None of you had expected it to happen, how could you? But you've learned by now there is no point in fighting it either. So when you heard Mags’ name being called out and you volunteered in her stead, you suppose it was simply out of habit. In a world like this, the only thing that makes you feel like you are surviving is helping others do the same thing. As you stepped forward you could see the cameras zooming in on your face, trying to capture every expression you were making. You saw the cameras do the same for Finnick. Years of being in an unwelcome spotlight had made his poker face almost unbreakable, but the small furrow of his eyebrows and the twitch in his gallant smile told you everything you needed to know.

It wasn't until the next day that he first spoke to you. Over the years you would see each other, of course, you would talk. But at all the events and all the parties you did nothing more than exchange pleasantries. But now he came out of your peripheral vision and cornered you against the wall behind you with his broad arms.

“What were you thinking, this might be the stupidest thing you've ever done.” His demeanour seemed angry, he seemed serious. But you had no reason to match it, you just wanted to get under his skin like he got under yours.

“Be careful what you say, you might actually be the stupidest thing I’ve done.” you wondered if he remembered, if he remembered the night you had spent together so many years ago, it had been the best night of your life, and you had no idea if he even remembered. If he did, he didn't let it show.

“Did you even think it through? You survived the arena once, and only barely, what makes you think you’ll make it out alive again.” His voice was a low rasp, and if you didn't know better, you'd say he sounded upset. But you knew better, Finnick had shown you his true colours when he started avoiding you, and you did remember that.

“I wasn't thinking, how could I? All I could think about was Mags having to go through it all again, you more than anyone else know she deserves better.” you were looking him in the eyes now, and it took all of your willpower not to melt. “My games weren’t that long ago, I did it then and I’m still here, I can do it again.” He stepped closer to you, eliminating the remaining space between your bodies, his chest against yours, and you could feel his heart skip a beat as he spoke.

“Exactly, I was there, and it damn near broke me too. I was there to piece you back together. But I won’t watch it happen to you again, I can’t let it happen. Because what if I’m not there this time, what if I'm not there to put you back together.” There was a stark contrast between his face and his voice. As you looked at him you saw his eyes soften, and it gave you a glimpse of the Finnick you once knew. But his voice was still filled with anger, and it snapped you back to reality.

“And how would you know what I can and cannot handle.” You were challenging him now, but he had you matched.

“Because I know you. Even if you don’t believe so, I know what youre like, I know how you think. You might believe I forgot, that I ignore you and go on with my life as if nothing happened. But if you were to actually think for one second you would see that I’m simply doing what's best for you, I just want what’s best for you but now you’ve gone and ruined all of it in one day.

You’re at a loss for words, because maybe he was right, maybe you had gone and messed up everything with a single sentence at the reaping. But maybe everything was finally making a turn for the better, because for the first time, he was telling you he cared. And you’re thankful to finally see his thoughts shine through, but you’re overwhelmed too. So you turn around, you turn away from him, wanting to escape the confrontation. Except he’s not letting you go, not this time

“I really don’t care what you think Finnick.” You weren’t sure if you believed your own words, but you needed to get away from him.

“And I really don’t believe you.” You tried shrugging him off again, and you were about to turn away from him when you felt him grab onto your arm and pull you into him. As you looked up you could feel his eyes fixed on yours.

And so you do the only thing you can think of, you do the thing you want most in this moment right here, you kiss him. You tell yourself that consequences be damned, because even if he will hate you for it, even if you’ll regret it later, at least you have this one moment to get yourself through it, at least you didn't let your fears of losing him completely win this time. You kiss him as if everything will be okay, because when you feel his lips start to move in sync with yours, it is.

For a moment you think everything will resolve itself and you and Finnick can live together in a small house near the beach. For a moment you forget how much you hate him for everything he put you through. Because in this moment, if life could be like this moment, you’d forgive him for all of it. And you don't know it yet, but he’s even more scared than you are.

838 notes · View notes

cozage · 25 days

Note

Gm!! I saw your inbox was open!! I was hoping to request something with Sanji, Ace n Franky with a selective mute (gender neutral) reader talking to them through their voice for the first time to confess? 👉👈

(Btw I wanted to let you know that your writing has such a grip on my heart, I must have re-read your Sleepy Afternoon hcs at least a hundred times 🥺🫶 and i hope you have a wonderful day!)

So sorry I didn't get a new chapter out today...the holidays kept me busy! Enjoy these sweet short stories instead <3 Characters: gn reader x Sanji, Ace, Franky Cw: none :) Total word count: 1600

First Words

Sanji

Ever since you joined the crew, you had found yourself gravitating toward the kitchen.

Being with Sanji was easy. He never pestered you with questions or asked you to speak. If he did ask questions, they were always non-invasive, yes-or-no questions that you could answer with a shake of your head.

You realized you had feelings for him when he came into the kitchen one morning, dark shadows under his eyes. And before he began cooking, he signed good morning to you. You had signed back the same phrase before you realized that he had signed, not spoken.

He beamed with pride as your eyes widened in shock.

“You learned how to sign?” you signed quickly.

He focused intensely as he watched the way your hands moved, and then slowly nodded.

“I stayed up all night trying to learn the basics. I figured it’s lonely up there in your head.” He tapped his temple with his forefinger for effect. “I’m not very good yet, but I’ll try my best to follow you if you ever feel like communicating.”

You gave a soft nod, the thought making your eyes shine. Even just the effort of knowing good morning made your heart swell.

As the days went on, Sanji got better at sign language. So much better that he indirectly became your translator for the rest of the crew if you ever felt like adding to the conversation. He came to your defense whenever Luffy begged you to speak, and helped make sure your voice was heard without ever judging you.

As the two of you were sitting out on the deck one night under the stars, you decided you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You had to tell him.

“I have to tell you something,” you signed.

Sanji stood up a little straighter, looking at you with slight concern. “What is it, my love?”

“I think-” you paused your signing. Saying the words with your hands didn’t seem right. You trusted Sanji with everything. You wanted to tell him. You wanted to say it. Out loud.

“I think-” you whispered softly, your voice raw from time unused. But you grew more confident when you spoke again. “I think I might just be in love with you, Sanji.”

You could see him struggling to understand your words; the fact that you had spoken was enough to send him into shock.

And then he leaned in and kissed you.

You melted under his touch. Your body craved the feeling of his skin as he held your face against his.

“I love you too, my dear,” he whispered back. “And my name on your lips is sweeter than anything I could ever cook up.”

Ace

Ace didn’t mind that you didn’t speak a lot. Or speak at all. He did enough talking for the both of you.

Still, you liked being around him. At meals, you often found yourself sitting next to him. At parties, he was often at your door, dragging you out onto the deck to have a few beers with everyone.

You liked how he could bring people together. He was always the life of the party anywhere you went. You enjoyed his warmth, both through his devil fruit ability and personality.

You often found yourself staring at him, admiring everything about him. You knew every other person on the ship was doing the same thing. So even when his eyes locked onto yours and the two of you had silent conversations, you did your best to ignore that ache in your chest. He was loved by everyone. You weren’t special.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Ace said, taking a seat next to you on the deck. “I know you didn’t want to, and I know these parties can be overwhelming. So thanks for coming for me.”

You shook your head slightly, smiling softly. It’s no big deal.

“It is a big deal! You-” the rest of his sentence was cut off by a few of your crewmates screaming at each other and everyone cheering loudly.

“Come on,” Ace mumbled, rising to his feet and holding out his hand for you. “Let’s go somewhere quieter. I can’t hear myself think here.”

You smiled and nodded, taking his hand. It was loud and overwhelming. You were here for Ace, to celebrate him being promoted. But that didn’t mean you liked being around crowds or rowdiness.

There was only one place that was quiet on a night like tonight: the crow’s nest. So the two of you quietly snuck up the ladder and hid away from everyone. A moment of quiet amongst the sea of noise.

“It's so peaceful up here,” Ace said softly. “I love it up here.”

You hummed in agreement. “I love you.”

Both of you froze. You hadn’t even been thinking about a confession. It had come out entirely on its own.

You could feel Ace’s sharp gaze on you. “What?”

You cleared your throat, ignoring the heat on your face. “The view. I love the view.”

“You’re speaking.”

You finally looked at him, your voice rough. “I speak sometimes.”

“Never to me!” Ace ran his hand through his hair and took a long drink from the bottle in his hand. “You’ve never spoken to me!”

“I-” you stopped. You hadn’t spoken much since you had joined the crew. Only to Pops, really. And only whenever you were asked a direct question. Ace had probably never heard your voice. “I thought you had. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Ace said, laughing. “I just want to hear more of it! Tell me a story! Your voice is- is like-” he struggled for words, and then he smiled as his eyes locked onto yours. “It’s like a breath of fresh air.”

“It is not,” you smiled at his words, though. “You just feel that way because we can breathe up here without smelling our lovely crewmates.”

Ace barked out a laugh. “Stunning and funny. You really are the total package.”

You quieted at that. A true compliment from Ace didn’t happen often, and you could feel the blush creeping its way through your face.

Instead, you laid back and turned your head toward the sky, choosing to watch the stars instead. You were almost asleep when Ace spoke again.

“I love you too, you know.”

Franky

You liked being in the workshop with Franky. Franky never tried to get you to speak. Most of the time it was too loud in there to hold a conversation anyway. The extent of your conversation was him asking you to get a tool for him, and you silently retrieving it.

You weren’t sure it changed into something more, but you began watching him closely as he worked. After a day or two, he began explaining what he was building and all the steps that went into it. It wasn’t long before you were working on the bench next to him.

Some days, Franky was chatty. He talked about his home, his old life, and other projects he had done. Sometimes he asked you simple questions about your past, but he never pried too deep.

That’s what you liked most about Franky. Everything had been on your terms, and Franky had always received your decisions enthusiastically. He always supported you when you wanted to help him build a bench, but he also encouraged you to take rest days when you simply wanted to observe.

Franky was always on your side. No matter what you decided, he was going to agree. He was your biggest fan, always cheering you on.

And as his strong arms wrapped around you, both of you holding the torch to weld two pieces of metal together, you realized the heat on your face wasn’t just from the flame.

Franky pulled his welding helmet up. “So, do you like welding?”

You nodded. “I think I like you more, Franky.”

Franky’s mouth fell open in shock. For once, you had stunned him into silence. Only the hum of the generator buzzed in the air.

The silence made you feel strange, and words began falling out of your mouth in an attempt to fill it.

“You’re so kind and supportive to me and you always help me learn new things. You’ve been so amazing and patient these past few weeks and you’re always so encouraging and…I just…I like you a lot, Franky, and I was just thinking about how I wanted to tell you and then it just…came out.”

Franky was still staring at you, awestruck. “You can speak?”

You covered your face. He was missing the whole point. Maybe he would forget the words you had actually said.

He seemed to remember your words at that exact moment. “Me? You like me?”

A small smile creeped across your face. No backing down now. “Yes, I do.”

“Super!” His words made you laugh. “I’ve liked you for quite some time as well. Just didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Your smile finally widened, full and genuine. “You’re the place I feel most comfortable, Franky.”

He gently wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for an embrace. “And I will never stop being that for you, I swear it.”

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #sanji x reader #sanji #sanji x y/n #portgas d ace #portgas ace x you #portgas d ace x reader #ace x reader #cyborg franky #franky x reader #cozage #✧˚sanji✧˚#✧˚ace✧˚#✧˚franky✧˚

608 notes · View notes

koolades-world · 2 months

Note

Hello I like your writing :)

Can I pls request demon bros with a v affectionate but v touch starved MC,, like they’re always offering the bros hugs and holding their hand and casually telling them all I love you and stuff, but the first time one of them gave MC a hug (not just accepting a hug that MC gives them, actually giving one to MC) they just kinda,, melt, cling desperately and cry a bit… maybe ask them not to let go yet

Knowing the bros it prob would have been Beel, Mammon, or maybe Asmo to offer that first hug, but how do you think all 7 would respond to that (if you want to write all 7 of course, no pressure obv)?

Specifically, responding to being the first one to give MC a hug, and MC not reacting casual and chill as he would have expected (given how touchy with everyone MC is normally), but instead them getting so emotional about it and not wanting to be released, because they absolutely thrive on physical affection and they love hugs, but no one holds them—and they needed to be held so bad

(Sorry if this is too specific)

hey! :)

hello former anon haha, saw your name in my inbox twice and thought I was going nuts but no! you just made a request in like mid januaryish and I'm only just now getting there lol

sorry about no post yesterday and that this one is a little late. yesterday was my friend's birthday and today is super bowl sunday lol

yeah of course I can write this! please enjoy!

Affectionate but touch starved Mc

Lucifer

his office is always open for you so at some point you just wandered in and he found himself in a hug from behind

when he reached his arms up to try to half hug you back, you almost tumble over the back of his chair

you're basically in his lap daily after that for your hug while he's doing paperwork

he's also kind of touch starved too so he never objectes

Mammon

I think he would be the first to offer a hug in his own roundabout way, or by just opening his arms to you

he’s not expecting your reaction but it melts his heart so he doesn’t want to let go

so the two of you just… stand there for the next fifteen or so minutes

after that he’s sweeter and more touchy with you

Levi

only offers the hug once you're close and something big just happened

he's very unsure about how to feel since he's also very touch starved

he doesn't want to let go either honestly

after this, he tries his best to offer you hugs more often but he just needs to work up the courage every time

Satan

he's super big on hand holding so eventually he's bound to twirl you into a hug eventually

the first time you do hug is when he pulls you out of the way to avoid getting runover by a crowd

he was not expecting you to hug him so tightly and how you didn't let go after the crowd was gone

now, he often invites you for hugs while he's reading or studying

Asmo

the type to spin you around while you hug

gosh such a hugger! loves physical touch so you're in luck

his arms are always around your shoulder with a hug from behind or from the side, or he's gripping your arm

let him know you love and want it, and he will provide and snuggle you every night

Beel

there’s always room for you in his heart and arms

if you randomly come up to him and just lean on him, he’ll scoop you up and continue what he’s doing

if you want you can koala hug him and he’ll carry you around so you can get all your hugging in

of course, he makes sure to shower you with attention you deserve once he’s finished with what he’s doing

Belphie

he actually started hugging you in his sleep

when he woke up, you were basically in tears and holding him in the death grip

he hugs you before he goes to sleep now too

you always share the same blanket and if he can't be there for whatever reason, he leaves you the blanket so you can burrito yourself in it

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #obey me belphie #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date

512 notes · View notes

babyleostuff · 8 months

Note

Hey hey :) I absolutely love your writing I can't stop myself from reading and rereading them over and over again!

I don't know if you're taking any requests, but if you are could you write about seventeen being softdoms. Like them being all manly + all soft for their s/o. Masculine without the toxicity lol

If not you can just ignore this ask 🥰

author's note | ah we love us a softdom seventeen 😍 i decided to split it up to sfw and nsfw, hope you don't mind <3

also, my inbox is open again, so if you guys have any requests or asks feel free to write me!

soft dom seventeen | ot13

SFW

The type to spoil the living shit out of you, because you deserve all the best things in the world (one word from you and the next day you’ll get whatever you mentioned). Also, may be a bit overprotective, but it’s just because he doesn’t want you to get hurt. He makes it his life mission to keep you safe at all times, so he will fight anyone who dares to make you uncomfortable. Even when he’s angry or having a fight with someone, the second you enter the room, he’s all like “hi baby ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶”:

➼ Seungcheol, Mingyu, Chan, Wonwoo

A complete gentleman who will do anything to make you feel like a princess. No matter how bad of a day he’s having, one look from you and he’s all smiley and happy again. His heart eyes are reserved for you and you only and he will not hesitate to use them in his favour. Protective, but not in an overbearing way. He’ll just shoot the stranger one look and they’ll know that it’s better to not make you uncomfortable. Bonus: he gives the softest kisses in the world (they make you melt on the spot):

➼ Joshua, Dokyeom, Jun, Seungkwan, Vernon

He knows how weak you are for him and he will use that to his advantage. A lot. He just loves messing with you and seeing you all flustered because of him (don’t worry, he makes it up with a lot of kisses). He’ll do anything you ask him for - there is nothing more important to him than your happiness. So you can say that he’s weak for you as well??? He’s a certified simp, what can I say. Also buys you flowers out of nowhere and gets you your favourite candy just because he can:

➼ Minghao, Jeonghan, Woozi, Soonyoung

NSFW

Will be destroying you with his cock, while telling you how pretty you look. One second, the most sinful words are escaping his mouth, mocking you how weak of a slut you are for him and the second he’s giving you gentle kisses on your neck, soothing his previous made hickies. BUT, turns into a completely different person when he’s finally satisfied with how many times he’d made you cum. The aftercare is top tier and he turns into the softest and gentlest being:

➼ Seungcheol, Mingyu, Chan, Wonwoo, Woozi

Treats you like you are made of porcelain, while still fucking you nice and deep, hitting all of the right places. Most likely will make you come with his mouth or fingers a couple of times, before he slams his cock into you, making you see stars. Repeats how pretty you are and how good of a job you’re doing, while sucking your nipples and circling your clit with his thumb. He swears he lives for your moans and the way you push your hips against his face when he’s eating you out:

➼ Joshua, Dokyeom, Seungkwan, Jun

Teases the shit out of you, before he even pulls out his dick from his briefs (which at this point you’re practically begging him to fuck you). Will make you say exactly what you want him to do to you, every single sinful thought that you’re having or else he’s just going to leave you hot and horny. But, when he’s satisfied with how wet and needy you are, he’s ramming his cock into you in no time. The touch of his fingertips is feather like, his lips slowly outlining the shape of your body, while his cock is fucking you dumb:

➼ Soonyoung, Vernon, Minghao, Jeonghan

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm

917 notes · View notes

strawberrysnoopy · 1 month

Text

ACT ONE: The Photoshoot, Part Three of Four

prologue, part one, part two. warnings: tobacco, smoking, alcohol use, briefest mention of using alcohol as a coping mechanism, mentions of infidelity (as always), ada slander at times (sorry), texting for a while, leon's a bit of a perv,

author's note: btw I left the husband without a name so there's no overlap on you and your husband having the same name and you live in new york due to the modeling thing. I also try my hardest to keep the reader ambiguous because I realize that skinny, quirky, white girls aren't the only ones that read this series: if there's anything you'd like to recommend or change in the writing to be more reader-friendly, drop in my inbox and let me know! :) thank you guys so much for all the reblogs and 100 FOLLOWERS AHHH!! thank you thank you thank you!

The warmth of your fingers working against his cool and paled skin had him melting like a runny ice cream cone in your hands. His hand was on your hip, rubbing loving circles like he was trying to commit the warm feel of your flesh into his memory. This was the type of life he envisioned when he was younger: married to someone he loved deeply with every crevice of his being. He thought Ada was the person for him, but that was such a costly and emotionally unbalanced guess. "Thank you, honey." You nod in response, applying the rest of the stitching to his busted lip. His hands dare to move a little higher on your hips, squeezing your waist and getting some sick pleasure out of the way your breath stopped in embarrassment. The scene was perfect, just a good ol’ friend taking care of her busted up pal. Leon hated that he couldn’t find you earlier, sooner, before he could even lay eyes on Ada Wong. She had her charms, sure, but there was something about the soft lull of your presence, how gentle you were, how caring you could be with others that had his heart fluttering in his chest. He still can't believe out of all the places he could've met you, it was at a store while you were buying a bottle of wine for yourself and your husband. "Met" would have to be an overrated word in his dictionary. The truth was that Leon had first laid eyes upon you in a magazine. They had released their February shoot that show-cased entrepreneurial photographers on the rise, climbing their way to the top without a care in the world who they scratched on their way there. You happened to be the diamond in the rough, making everyone else's cliche photographs of "lust" or "revenge" or "innocence" themes seem drab. Your theme? Limerence. Beautiful, simmering, and chilling limerence. Your hair was pieced together lazily but curled neatly, wearing simple yet cryptic tops and little boy shorts that lovingly cradled your ass. The rookie photographer that snapped your photos had done a stellar job at making it seem like you were one of those once in a lifetime girls you met in college. He still had the magazine of course, stashed away in the depths of his closet: kept in pristine condition like a filthy little secret he loved to indulge in. "So..." He muses. He feels the little pause in your work, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "How long have you known? About your husband's infidelity?" You've always known. The first? A college girl in the first year of your "official" relationship Bubbly and vibrant and a fucking joy to be around. The kind of girl you see on ABC's 20/20 or some other type of true crime prime-time film. Your husband claimed it was a drunk hook-up. And the first time, you believed him. The second? A school teacher that looked, acted, and talked exactly like you. Maybe she was your long lost twin or some weird rip in the fabric of time and she happened to pop out. He claimed he was mad at you for the way you did laundry. You forgave him a second time, but you'd surely have a knife to his throat the third time.

"A while. It's just like some weird fact I live with, I guess. Like you have some chronic disease and it's something you deal with from time to time." He nodded, bringing your hand up to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss to your palm. He knows you don't deserve that. Nobody deserves that. Yet, he always wondered why you stayed. Your husband was an asshole, although that shouldn't be a term that leaves his lips due to the fact he's supposedly your husband's best bud, but for the sake of doing the holy honor of defending you: he was a cheating dick that didn't deserve to be maritally bound to a woman such as yourself. "Wouldn't you get a divorce? I don't mean to be like...rude or anything but I would've thought that you're the type of woman to leave his ass once he cheats." And you were. Headstrong, confident, and self-assured—he's never seen an insecure model before, or maybe that's some weird stereotype he's made in his head unconsciously. "It's a tough situation." And that's all you have to say about your marriage. He nodded, understanding your reluctance to speak on the subject. He can't say he's any different from you either considering his marriage to Ada, the very reason he can't be with you. Especially so intimately. It’s hard. The safety of it all. Having someone next to you at all times despite the shitty relationship. He knew.

Now the bathroom is silent. You’re still doctoring up his wounds while he sits up on the marble counter-top. He really wants to say something until you step in for him.

“I can’t believe you fucked my husband up like that.” You say, pulling your hands away from his face to find some more antibiotic cream. He hates that he feels his head moving forward to get your hands back on him. Pathetic. He feels pathetic, especially considering he beat the dog shit out of your husband when you graciously invited him into your home.

“I’m sorry—“ He begins, you stop him once more.

“No. Don’t apologize. I was thanking you.” He nods again, finding the motion of moving his head back and forth too repetitive. “So, thank you.”

He boldly takes your hand in his own, squeezing it and kissing the palm—feeling like he’s turning into a crazy man when your fingertips brush against his lower eyelids and cheeks.

“You’re welcome.” He releases your hand from his own, feeling guilty for not saying more to you. He feels as if you deserve more than silence, and to be honest, with everything you've gone through this week, you definitely do. "I know I said it already but I'm sorry for saying that I wanted to—" He pauses, not wanting to be so crude with his wording but throwing caution to the wind as he had already fucked everything up so far. "Said that I wanted to fuck you, that's not fair to you nor your husband."

"It's okay if you do." His heart pulses in his chest at those words. He had expected you to ignore it, maybe slap him if you were really pissed. But you agreed? What the fuck, it's like he's living in a fucking alternate universe. "It's not a crime to find someone else attractive. The only thing wrong is if you act on it." That was true, but it never took from how much he dreamed about you. The times he's jerked himself off while thinking of your gorgeous body on his mind had grown to a disgusting amount. Hell, it's gotten to a point where he doesn't even fight it anymore and Ada being in the house used to stop him, but not anymore. He'll just go up to the bathroom and rub one out with your magazine in hand. "Then I guess I'm attracted to you." Your cheeks flush red at the admission, flaring a brighter color when his hand grips your hip once more. And tighter, too. Jesus Christ, the way this whole situation had been playing out like a steamy porno. First, your husband was gone in the hospital. Second, Leon was brought into your home. Alone. Third, he admitted he wants to fuck you. No, he has to resist. You were right. It's not wrong to be attracted to someone other than your spouse but you had him wanting to act. Wanting to drag you down to the marital bed you share with your husband and fuck you senseless. "So, do you want to stay the night tonight? Considering your car is broken down and everything." You ask, your tone beautiful and raspy like it always is.

Oh, God. He's gonna fuck you.

tags:@heylesamis, @sweetserial, @iloveyousomuch1989, @galactict3a, @m1sery-busin3ss, @ssulfurr, @julia13123, @nic-stars, @stillhavingdaddyissues, @greywardensaywhat, @ressespearlz, @xqlenkdy, @g0rep1ty, @nomorekerkanymor,

183 notes · View notes

uglypastels · 10 months

Note

i have to say this, eddie love fucking you when you’re in a messy bun and your glasses almost falling down your nose. Chef’s kiss

Chef's kiss indeed and i hope this is ok, but this gave me major librarian!reader vibes, and I meant to make this pure filth, but as I started writing, I realised that I adore these two wholeheartedly, so please enjoy the fluff fest around it.

warnings: 18+ only MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. p in v sex. sex in a public place. unprotected sex (dzon't dzo it). swearing.

masterlist // inbox //

Working in the Hawkins Town Library, you got to be in the presence of almost everybody who lived there, from the youngest readers to the eldest. Everyone needed books for one reason or another, let it be homework research, recipes or just some entertainment. There were the quiet readers who settled themselves somewhere in a corner to spend the rest of the day with their noses in between the pages; the ones who search for hours for the one book they had their mind set on the moment they walked in; the ones that, for whatever reason, forget to stay silent. There were fans of fantasy as well as historical non-fiction, philosophy and romance. There was a place for everybody here.

With such a variety in patrons, it was only natural you grew to have favourites. Some might be more self-explanatory than others. Of course, your heart doubled when Julie came in with her daughter, Sandy [who just turned six!], to pick out a new book every few weeks. Or old man Farrell who already knew all the facts in the books he checked out and was more than happy to share with you.

It could come to most people as a shock then that the person you looked forward to seeing the most was none other than Eddie Munson.

Surprisingly, he could be the definition of the perfect library patron. Besides the fact that he had never been late with book returns, when you started working there, the first few times Eddie came by, he scared you to death—so quiet was he, sneaking around the aisles and up to the counter to check his stacks of books out.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya there, sweetheart,’ he said as he put the books on the desk.

‘It’s alright.’ You started picking up books from the pile, stamping in the date on the inside sheet. ‘Might have to consider getting a bell.’ You smiled, ‘that way I could hear you coming.’

‘Hmm, too bad I don’t have a bell.’ Eddie clicked his tongue but reached into one of his pockets, ‘but… would these do?’ He pulled out a handful of thin metal chains. They rattle around.

‘Why do you have those in your pocket?’ You asked curiously as you gave him back the books.

‘Always have them on me– I mean, on my jeans, but I take them off when I’m hear. Don’t want to disturb anyone.’ And with that, he gave you a shy little smile that made your heart melt.

‘That is, actually, really sweet of you.’ If only more people were so considerate. ‘Thank you.’

‘Yeah, well, I have my moments.’ He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I’ll see you around.’

‘See ya.’ You waved as he walked away, barely able to contain the smile on your face that the metalhead had caused.

Not a lot changed since that day, but your and Eddie’s conversations did begin to grow. You’d keep on talking while you checked out his books, sometimes for so long that another patron would have to interrupt to get their books. Then, Eddie would pop by your desk to ask for the location of some particular book— one you had never heard of, in all honesty, but he probably easily could have found it if he bothered to look through the cards.

‘Excuse me, sweetheart,’ he’d clear his throat, ‘do you have any idea where I could find Carrots Love Tomatoes?’

‘Sorry?’ You must have misheard the title.

‘Carrots Love Tomatoes: Secrets of Companion Planting for Successful Gardening. It’s for my uncle.’ Eddie would clarify, reading the title out from a scrap of paper he had scribbled on.

‘Right. Do you know who it’s by, perchance?’

‘I’m surprised you don’t.’ He reread the paper. ‘Louise Riotte– shit, I’m definitely mispronouncing that.’ He quickly spelt it out for you.

Well, you had to admit, you weren’t personally familiar with Miss Riotte’s work, but you knew this library inside-out and told Eddie to follow you into the section you thought it most likely to be. The non-fiction section was off in the corner of the library, with only rectangular windows blocks near the ceiling, letting in barely any daylight. The light was, instead, coming from the lamps above you; they flickered and buzzed on the off-moments.

Eddie stayed a step behind you as you navigated through the shelves, muttering the alphabet to yourself repeatedly as you tried to find the RI– shelf. Once you finally found it, you realised it was on the top of the bookcase, where you couldn’t reach it.

‘It’s up there.’ You pointed, thinking that maybe Eddie would just get it himself now. But instead, Eddie offered to pick you up. A bit flustered, you accepted the offer and tried to ignore the feeling of his hands on your hips, the way his rings dug into your soft skin. He picked you up, and you grabbed the book quickly. Once back down on the ground again, you handed it over to him. Eddie thanked you with a large smile as he looked at the book.

He frowned.

‘Something wrong?’ You asked.

‘No, no, it’s all good, thanks. It’s just that…I don’t know…’ He looked at the book a bit longer. ‘Oh, you know what? I think I must have read it wrong.’ He looked down at the scrap of paper again. ‘...yeah. That definitely says Catcher in the Rye. Well, thank you anyway, sweetheart. Really ‘preciate it.’

‘You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.’ You laughed.

‘Uhm, I’ll have you know,’ he leaned against the bookcase by your side, ‘that this had actually all been an act of sheer brilliance.’

‘Oh?’ You were leaning against it, too, your shoulders almost touching.

‘Yes. I would say that the way I got you here with me, away from all those people, is MacGyver-level brilliance.’

‘Don’t you think it might have been easier to just… I don’t know, just ask me to meet you here.’ You would have been going on a break soon anyway.

Eddie grinned as he leaned forward to you, ‘Now, what would be the fun in that?’ You could feel his breath on you. The scent of excessive bubblegum chewing greeted you.

‘Fair enough,’ you tried to act cool, ignoring the hot flashes he was causing all over your body. ‘So, why did you want me to come out here? What couldn’t wait until my lunch break, Munson?’

‘Just wanted to say how cute you looked today.’ Eddie smiled, then, as if he remembered something– ‘Oh, and this–’ he leaned in, cupping your face in his hand, kissing you softly.

So, perhaps, some things had changed over time. Smalltalk and jokes at the front desk turned into stolen kisses and hushed laughter in the dark corners of the library. Just as with everything around, Eddie was gentle and soft. His grip on you was there for support, to make you feel how much he wanted you near him.

You pulled away with a small gasp, chest-beating fast, eyes fluttering open.

‘But I suppose I could have waited with that.’ Eddie said afterwards, his hand still on your cheek.

‘I’m glad you didn’t.’ Your voice was hushed, but you kissed Eddie deeply instead of breathing in the air you needed. You pulled at his shirt to bring him closer, and his other hand reached for your waist, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

‘You should probably get back,’ he muttered between kisses.

‘Probably,’ you replied. Neither of you meant any of it, and you both knew it. You had no idea why you only saw each other at the library. Maybe because you always knew to find each other here; it was a certainty. Outside, it would be a mere coincidence to bump into Eddie. Here, you knew he would be here every week.

Maybe because it felt like a haven for both of you and it felt like a different reality—an escape from the real world. But it was precisely this that made everything else so fragile. Who knew what it would be like outside of these bookshelves? You didn’t want to know, so why risk it? What you had now, it was an unspoken agreement. One you both were more than happy with. It was special—a rarity.

Everything- the kiss, the hold, the emotions, the heat- all intensified the longer you kept going. It was getting messy and rough. Eddie had locked you in between him and the bookcase. You could feel him all over you. His hair tickling your face, his cold rings on your skin, his clothes pressing into you, his— fuck, he was huge. You could feel him against your thigh, no hiding it.

‘Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this the whole week.’ He breathed against your neck. ‘Haven’t stopped thinking about you.’ You would have told him the same if you could form an entire sentence. It was hard to concentrate daily when you had the memory of his touch plague you every day, and everything around you at your job was a heavy reminder.

‘Need… I need you, Eddie,’ you gasped out as he kissed your neck, right on the spot that made your knees go weak. ‘Please.’

‘Hmm, need you too, sweetheart.’ He was roaming his hand over your bare thigh underneath your skirt. Sometimes you wondered if anyone around had noticed that you really only wore them on days of Eddie’s library visits. Perhaps Eddie hadn’t picked up on that specifically, but he certainly enjoyed your style. ‘Drive my fucking wild in these short skirts of yours.’ The words rolled out of his mouth as he began unzipping his jeans. ‘Look so fucking good.’

‘Thank you,’ you moaned, giggling about how giddy you felt that he was complimenting you while preparing to thrust his dick in you. It was all so silly, so stupid. You were doing something incredibly risky, most likely illegal, but you couldn’t care one bit. All you could think about was how good he made you feel. How happy you felt with him.

‘C’mere,’ Eddie groaned, pulling you up by your thighs, holding you against the shelves. Luckily, they were pretty sturdy, bolted to the ground, so his force pushing you against them barely mattered. On you, however, it was another story.

‘Oh, fuck,’ you whimpered, trying to stay quiet at the feeling of him inside you. After letting you adjust quickly, he started thrusting in you hard and deep. The way he was moving against you, it made your whole body shake. You could feel your glasses slip down your nose. In the haze of it all, you had forgotten to take them off but were about to do so– when Eddie interrupted.

‘No, keep them on.’ He kissed your cheek.

‘Why?’ you didn’t see a reason for them.

‘Want you to see me fucking you.’ His smile was airy. ‘Besides, it’s hot as shit. The way you get so messy for me. And your hair,’ he punctuated each sentence with a deep thrust. One of his hands brushed some of your hair out of your face, ‘I wish I could take a picture of you right now. Would cum to it like every day.’

‘Gross.’ You joked, and in return, Eddie grazed his teeth over your collarbone, nipping at your skin slightly.

‘Calling me gross as if you’re not getting fucked in the middle of the library.’ Eddie’s smile was contagious. As he continued, your glasses were falling again, but he quickly pushed them back over the bridge of your nose. ‘You’re fucking filthy, sweetheart.’

‘I’m–’ you gasped as he went deeper.

‘Yeah, baby?’

‘I’m– I’m close, Eddie.’ You tried to whisper as best as you could, biting down on any noises that could be heard from afar.

‘Mmm, I know, you’re so tight. So perfect.’ he moaned through his last hard thrusts. You could feel your climax coming, knew how it would come, and quickly hid your face in the nape of his neck to muffle your scream of pleasure as it washed over you. Eddie rode it out with you, only moments behind.

He held you briefly, letting you come down and stabilise your breathing. You smiled at eachother sheepishly and kissed deeply once more. There was nothing else to say.

Eddie pulled out, the emptiness hitting you immensely. It was a strange sensation, and you still didn’t feel quite yourself as your feet touched the ground again. But Eddie’s hands stayed on you for stability.

‘You’re a dream, sweetheart. Just… unbelievable.’

Eddie brushed the loose strands of hair from your face again while you readjusted your glasses. There was nothing else to say.

Now came the awkward part where you timed your exit from the aisle and hid the guilty sex-glow look on your face.

It was a slow day at the library, so no one awaited you at the front desk. You took your place and tried to shake off all your emotions, and it worked for the most part, except for the giant smile. That you just could not get rid of.

It was still there when Eddie returned to you twenty minutes later, now accompanied by a new stack of books.

‘Found everything you were looking for?’ You asked as you took the books from him.

‘That and more.’ He leaned his elbows on the wood, grinning like an idiot. You had to tell yourself not to look at him, or you would get lost in those big brown eyes.

‘I’m happy to hear that.’ You stamped the date into all the books and returned them to Eddie. ‘Here you go.’

‘Thanks, sweetheart.’ Eddie grabbed them under his arm. ‘Same time next week?’ He winked. Once, the words really were only meant for this little exchange. That had been all you were looking forward to—the small chat at the desk. Back then, you would have never imagined the things you would get up to with the metalhead in the barely visited sections of the library.

‘See you, Eddie.’ You shook your head, still smiling, of course. And that was that. There was nothing else to say.

At least, there wasn’t before. All those other times, that really would have been it. Eddie would have walked away, and you would have watched him do so while already awaiting his comeback. Yet this time…

This time, Eddie stayed in his place.

‘Can I… help you with anything else?’ You raised a brow.

‘Uhh–’ Eddie cleared his throat. ‘Yes. Yes, you could. See if I have these… these two tickets for this thing— a concert… and see, I have no idea what to do with this second one, so maybe you could help me with that.’ He spoke fast and like he was stumbling over an uneven pavement instead of words, but you followed it nonetheless.

‘Concert?’ You asked.

‘Yes.’ He expanded with the name of a band you had never heard of before. ‘This weekend.’

You thought for a moment, or at least pretended to, as you already knew your answer. ‘I might have a friend who would be interested in taking that ticket off you.’

‘Any chance this friend of yours wears cute glasses, short skirts and works at my favourite spot in the city?’

‘She just might.’ You bit the inside of your cheek.

‘Then it’s deal, sweetheart,’ Eddie slammed his hand on the table in excitement, then immediately cringed at the noise he made. That same noise seemed to have awakened a quick realisation in him: ‘Wait, we were talking about you, right?’

‘Yes, Eddie. I would love to go to the concert with you.’ You rolled your eyes at the needed clarification.

‘Cool, just checking. Great.’ he started walking away now. ‘Great. I’ll pick you up– wait; I don’t even know where you live.’

‘You can pick me up here.’

‘Do you live at the library?’ he asked quickly, and you were sure he was being serious.

‘No, Eddie, I do not, but I work weekends too. But you can bring me back to my place afterwards. Stay the night, maybe?’ Was that too much too quickly? You started to panic for a second, thinking you took it too far, but then Eddie replied, repeating his previous words.

‘It’s a deal, sweetheart.’

the end

thank you so much for reading!! please consider supporting with comments and reblogs <3 (maybe leave a review??) I would love to hear your thoughts

583 notes · View notes

adventuringblind · 9 months

Text

Offense is the best Defense

Oacar Piastri X Verstappen!Reader

Genre: angst to fluff

Request: no :’( but I’m taking them! Send theeeeem. I’m going to die without them. Jk but do feel free to flood my inbox with ideas.

Summary: Oscar is new to the grid. Meaning he’s also new to the Verstappen family dynamic. It sucks that he has to watch the girl he fell for get berated by her father. So he decides to do something about it.

Warnings: Jos Verstappen, allusions to verbal abuse, allusions to physical abuse

Notes: written in third person

Masterlist

Oscar first met her when he was in formula 2. She’d been walking around the paddock before her brothers race and right after his.

She looked like she was debating something. Frozen in time. So frozen that he literally ran into her and she hardly moved. Aside from her mouth which was rapidly spilling apologies.

He started looking for her every time the races lined up. The boy wanting her number but it always seemed like the wrong time.

When he caught her walking alone, the sun illuminating her features, he knew it was now or never.

Thus started their friendship.

He didn’t have to try with her. Even his dry sarcasm that other people hated made her snicker. They shared the latest gossip over late night video calls. She listened intently to his frustrations. In his eyes, she’s an angel.

When he signed with Alpine, he was excited to see her more. Now that he would be in the same area all the time, it would be easier.

She often found herself in the Alpine garage watching the race with him. The small touches she left on his arm when things happened made his heart melt more for her, if it was even possible.

The first time he noticed something was a bit off, was when ended a call for her. He’d been yelling in a language he didn’t understand. Then a slamming door, her rapid breath, his angry mumbling, then silence. He was aware something was going on in the Verstappen family. Everyone knew. Max has repeatedly said things his dad has done like it’s normal. Laughed about it even.

Oscar saw Max knew that not everything that happened was normal. His body usually a half step in front of his sister when their father started getting aggressive. She always celebrated Max’s race results even if he DNF’d. Her attempts at soothing her father before he got to Max in vain, but she didn’t care.

The first time Oscar caught it, he’d wanted to step in. Christian grabbing his shoulder before he could get into the Redbull garage. “I know you care, but it might make things worse for them.” He’d said. A frown on his lips.

“Isn’t there anything I can do?” He didn’t want to leave her like this.

“Be there if they need someone.”

Oscar had taken those words to heart. Making sure he was always available to her as she was to him. He held her when she needed a hug. Lent her say everything she’d wanted to say to her father.

This continued even as he got a seat with McLaren.

She was the first person he called. They celebrated by driving to where there was no light and just staring at the stars.

He didn’t know where the burst of impulsiveness came from. His lips were on hers at one point. Softer then he’d imagined. Then he was pulling away, realizing what he’d just done. He didn’t get far however, as she wrapped her hands around his and pulled him in for another.

Things changed after that. Their feelings now on the table. It was obvious they were in love and he knew it. Lando teased him relentlessly. Max shockingly congratulated him, then threatened him, followed by a plea to take care of his baby sister.

She started staying in his hotel room. The relief of not having to be around Jos as much showed in the way she carried herself. Her confidence seemed to go up. She smiled and waved at everyone. It made Oscar happy to know she was starting to feel the way he had always seen her. Perfect just the way she is.

Unfortunately, Oscar knew he wasn't going to be able to solve all her problems. Jos is still active in her life and Max's racing career. What's worse is that Jos didn't seem to like him all that much. He'd tried introducing himself only to be waved off.

It didn't make any sense to him, but if she was smiling, then so was he.

The next time she ran into trouble was when she came to a race in a McLaren shirt with Oscar's number on it. She had started dividing her time evenly between her brother and him.

Jos was less than happy about this. Consistently finding excuses for her to be away from the papaya team.

Both her and Max went home for the week off. Both want to see their eldest sister and her family.

When she got back to her room at her father's house, the majority of her clothes had been ripped to peices. A lovely note taped to her door reader: 'If you're not going to support this family, I won't support you.'

Max had been waiting for her to grab her things. Though he was getting annoyed with how long she'd kept him waiting. Finally, after an hour, he decided to see what was keeping her.

He made his way up to her room. The muffled sounds of tears could be heard from down the hall. He peaked his head into her door, not bothering to knock since it was halfway open.

The sight of most of your belongings being ribbed to pieces shattered him. Jos had done it before. The first time was when Victoria had her first relationship, then when Max back talked, she the youngest broke curfew by five minutes, and so on.

Max thought they were over this. Turns out he was wrong. He was down on his knees, trying to help soothe her. Her fingers clutched pictures that had been ripped to pieces. Her clothes scattered around the floor with scissor cuts through them. Anything glass or fragile had been smashed.

It took them hours to get everything clean. Max grabbed an extra bag and they packed whatever she had left into it.

"Obviously, I'm forcing you to move in now."

Max had offered it to her a few times. She always turned it down. Jos made it a point to say she would be another added distraction. As if Kelly and Penelope weren't enough already. Now, he wasn't giving her a choice. Jos didn't come and visit Max's apartment, so he knew it would be safe there.

She called Oscar that night from Monaco. He instantly knew something was wrong by the look in her eyes.

"What happened?"

"I moved into Max's apartment... kinda."

"Are you alright, love?" He was trying to be gentle. She looked so pained. She shook her head no in response.

"What do you mean by kind of? Do you want me to come to Monaco?"

"My dad shredded all my clothes and broke most of my stuff. Kelly is taking me to get some essentials tomorrow's before we have to leave."

She turned her camera to show Oscar her new room. "I do like it here for what it's worth."

Oscar had made up his mind that night. "If you want to, you could always come live with me." He sounded unsure of himself. The two had never talked about it before.

"Wouldn't I be a distraction?"

"Where on earth would you get that idea? I think you make me drive better, personally."

It was settled that she would go home with him after the race. Max was elated for her. She finally found someone who saw her and wasn't intimidated by their father.

The race weekend went by so fast. The McLaren boys did amazing, placing p2 and p4.

She quite litterally was crying in joy for Oscar. Max had never been prouder of Lando. From their start to now was a big achievement.

The two knew that Jos would have their ears for it later. Congratulating competitors isn't how you make a name for yourself. It's why she hugged Oscar a little more than normal in front of him.

The garage was a nightmare. She didn't want to be here anymore. Jos had been hounding both her and Max.

Oscar had been on his way to find her. She couldn't have gotten far. Probably just to her brothers garage to celebrate his win.

Oscar is normally able to stay calm, level headed in many situations that require it. This was not one of those situations.

Similar to the first time he saw Jos interact with his kids, he felt the need to step in. Or at least say something to him.

There was nothing standing in his way this time.

He straightened himself. Mildly nervous at hearing the sounds of angry Dutch.

Oscar took long steps and placed himself directly between Jos and his children. The older Dutchman shot him a look of confusion. Then recognition formed in his stern eyes.

"Get out of my way." He seeths. He can feel the woman behind him trying to tug him away.

Her concern for his safety was rapidly approaching the heart attack range. Her brother spinning on his heels only to see her on the verge of hyperventilating.

The two had a shared fear. They knew how to evade their fathers hand. He'd not hesitated to be aggressive before, and they doubted that had changed recently.

It didn't matter, though. Oscar grabbed her wrist protectively, tugging her slightly behind him.

"No." He sounded more sassy than intended. Challenging the older man.

It didn't take long for the people around to realize something was going on. Oscar is dressed in his race suit still and stands out, the girl behind him is damn near petrified and Max just hit the wall with his hand.

The youngest Verstappen inched her way around Oscar. His stare off with the older male distracting him more then he thought.

“Max asked you to leave.” She said. Trying to hide the waiver in her voice. Oscar flinched at the sound. How had he not realized she was now in front of him? Regardless, he goes back to holding her protectively, just with an arm around her waist this time.

She felt better now that he was there. The confidence he’d been helping her gain was finally paying off.

Jos was turning red in and her now. His hand quick to move towards her.

Oscar was able to react faster. He yanked her body backwards into him, stumbling as they moved dodged his swing. The two still managing to stay upright.

Max was also quick to react. Weaving himself between the younger two and his father. Max didn’t hesitate to shove him away.

Everyone stood in shocked silence for a moment. The only sound being heavy breathing

Everything had moved fast after that. The young woman clung to Oscar, both in fear and joy.

Oscar held her tightly. Hand pressed into the back of her head. Lost of the words of praise in encouragement they were whispering to each other.

They let themselves enjoy the moment. Completely tuned out of the world. Both had been successful in something. Something that had been a long time running and they had helped earthed through the worst of.

It was something both of them could be proud of, for themselves and each other. So they let themselves bathe in the euphoric feeling that they earned.

678 notes · View notes

ceruleancattail · 5 months

Note

CERU CONGRATS FOR THE 200FICS MILESTONE 💕💞💖💗 you can publish a real book by that length now 😭💕💗💕💗💕 i love your dedication and more success for youu 🥳🥳

for the sentience event~ is it alright to request the Fellow Honest? 🦊✨

Like imagine him successfully turning every NRC student into dolls and hes exporting them to his boss now but hes quite attached to the "magicless student & their freebie cat" doll set so he plans to keep them rather than sell ✨✨ you know as a token for the good work 👍👍

i like to think that fellow thinks back on that time where Yuu were still human and offered to study with them in NRC... even if it wont come true, its a nicer thought to think that they couldve met as classmates and had a normal relationship... instead of this hollow conversation with a doll created out of their body--

@rayroseu IN MY INBOX!!!!!! Thank you oh my goodness-

Yup, writing a full novel is the goal! Working on little something’s here and there mostly ahah- fanfics are fun too, though!

Thank you so much for the well-wishes! Same to you, the Diasonmia family’s dearest portrait painter.

Er disclaimer, I don’t really know much about Fellow Honest. I’m just going to write this based on the general vibe I get of him. Sorry if it’s very out of character!

Sentience presents:

Tethered

Self Aware Fellow Honest x reader

Tw: yandere

Warmth bleeds into your shoulder. The reassuring weight of a hand, patting you carelessly. An affectionate gesture of a friend, truly. Well, until his hand slide down the length of your arm, fingers caressing every curve.

Your skin used to be softer. Warmer, actually. The gentle warmth of the sun’s golden rays. However, now it’s frozen, wrinkled with the etch of wood, jagging through your entire body.

Fellow’s fingers slid into the grooves carved out on your body, tracing them aimlessly. When he lifts his hand, his fingertips were pressed pink, the patterns on your skin imprinted onto his own.

With one fluid motion, he brings them to his lips. Pressing a sweet, tender kiss into them. It’s sort of romantic, the same marks that mar you, carved deep into the pads of his fingers. Almost like those cutesy matching things couples tend to purchase.

Fellow’s sorry he can’t get you any, but this is certainly much more intimate then any hollow plastic trinket, isn’t it?

Shaking his head, Fellow’s arms snake around your waist. Dragging you closer to them, until your hip bumped against his. The ghost of a smirk waltzing across Fellow’s lips, the dastardly smile of a victor, staring down at his spoils of war. A chuckle bubbles out of his chest, dripping with the amusement a child would have, upon finding a new plaything.

There was something cruel about his laugh, a certain quality that would have made your blood run cold.

Of course, that was when you still had blood running through your veins.

Now, there was nothing but wood. Your pulse faltered to a stop, your lifeless eyes staring back at his own. Even your expression melted back into something neutral. A blank slate.

Gently prising your fingers apart, Fellow slides his palm against yours. Gingerly sliding his fingers in between yours, wrapping around the back of your hand firmly. Leaving no room for escape. Although that wouldn’t matter now, right?

It’s not as if a puppet could break off its own strings. Not when those same strings keep it tethered upright. It’s a pity you couldn’t speak in this state, but Fellow doesn’t mind too much.

He can still hear your voice, echoing ever so clearly within his mind. Your pleading voice, as you clutched at his hand with those warm, gentle palms of yours. Begging for him to release your classmates, for him to come with you to Night Raven College.

You were practically on your knees, asking him to let you save him-

If he was being honest, Fellow’s heart skipped a beat then. For a split second, he let himself hope. A fleeting dream, really. Fellow’s already too deep in this darkness of this twisted wonderland to ever dream of being in the light.

This gentle hope had no place in his heart. All it did was really plunge him in deeper despair, really. It hurts him, ever so truly! You wound him deeper then any knife.

So shouldn’t you take responsibility for your actions?

Fellow knows the light isn’t the place for him.

So he’ll just drag you to the depths of hell with him.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #fellow honest x reader #fellow honest #fellow x reader #fellow #sentience #self aware au #protection potion♦️#THIS IS THE LAST SENTIENCE REQUEST I’LL ANSWER #THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR ACTIVE PARTICIPATION #gods I’m tired

215 notes · View notes

atinylittlepain · 11 months

Text

Apothecary - chapter nine

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

ring around the moon, trouble coming soon.

warnings | 18+ smut, ANGST - i'm not going to spoil anything but fr shit gets real and very sad here so please take care

wordcount: 5K ish

a/n | i am so nervous to share this chapter. listen, this was a very difficult chapter for me to write. i have to thank @beskarandblasters for holding my hand and keeping my secret through it. all i can say is, it hurt me as much as i imagine it might hurt you and i am truly sorry. this is where the progression of the plot dictated me to go. as mentioned, this is the last chapter for a while, but there is much much more to come once i return in august. my inbox is always open, come tell me what you think <3

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

“I think Ellie was disappointed.”

“Why d’you think that?” “I don’t know, I think she was expecting a little more razzle-dazzle.” Joel chuckles at that, pulling her closer into his side on the couch and landing a kiss to the top of her head. The fire crackles and pops, the glow of the fireplace crawling up the walls of the living room, hazy and golden.

“Should’ve done that little candle trick, darlin. Kid’s eyes would’ve popped out of her head.”

“Pfft, I’m pretty sure your eyes almost popped out of your head when I showed it to you.” They share a quiet laugh, settling down into each other, the warmth from the fireplace melting muscle and bone into an easy tangle. It’s the last night of Samhain, a time, she had explained to Joel, to burn away the passing year before the darkness of winter settles in. While Ellie had been excited for the late night fire, she had seemed a bit unsatisfied with how simple and quiet the whole thing had been, excusing herself with a dramatic yawn to her room in the outfitted garage. But Joel doesn’t mind if it means that he gets a little more time with his woman just to himself.

“So, was this a good, um– is holiday the right word?” Though he feels a bit foolish asking it, she just smiles, tilting her chin up at him from where she’s resting against his chest.

“Holiday works, yeah. And this was the best one I’ve had in a while.”

“Really?” Her smile broadens, nodding at his question.

“Mmhmm, because I got to share it with you and Ellie.” He may not understand all of it, the traditions and history, how any of it can even be real, but what he does know is that it means something for her to share this with him, with them.

“I’m glad that you did, darlin, and I know Ellie is too. I– thank you.” Her brow quirks at that, leaning back to fully look at him.

“What’re you saying thank you for?”

“I don’t know– everything. Just, thank you.” He does know, his mind rolling through memories. He could thank her for taking Ellie under her wing, keeping her out of trouble and getting her excited about something. He could thank her for being patient with him, being honest with him, giving him a second chance and then some when he first tried to figure her out. He could thank her for moving in with him, for waking up next to him every morning, for taking his hand in hers whenever they walk through town. He could thank her for that first time they met, how she whirled around him, all warmth and no pretense, so easily letting herself into the small pinprick of light that was his world. He could thank her for a lot of things, but the language fails him, so he settles for everything, sealing his words with a slanted kiss as she twists in his hold to deepen it.

He feels like a teenager again with how bad he wants her all the time, pushing and pulling to get her splayed out on the living room rug, the fire casting a radiant waltz over every new inch of skin he reveals. When he tugs her jeans down her hips, hands a greedy drag, she huffs out a laugh that draws his attention back up to her face.

“You’re very insistent tonight.” She says it with a quirked grin, head tilted to look at him where he’s kneeling between her legs. His heart catches at the sight of her, shirt discarded, bare from the waist up, her jeans still halfway down her legs, hair wild and lips darkened by his kisses. And suddenly his insistence turns a little quicker, a little headier, a little darker, not giving her any answer but pulling her pants off the rest of the way before settling back between her thighs, his open mouth dragging up soft skin before hovering over the faded cotton of her panties, her hips jolting with each of his hot exhales.

He can’t tear his eyes away from her, propped up on her elbows to look at him, brows pinched at the way he ghosts his lips over her, nosing at her clit through thin fabric. He’s never wanted anyone like this, so unconditionally, however he can, in whatever way he can, a surrender so complete it scares him. But getting her like this, sighing for him, whispering his name, it’s enough for him to give it all up to her, more than willingly.

When he finally stops teasing her, getting her completely bare for him, giving her his mouth in the way he knows she wants it, it’s like the sweetest prayer, every sigh a sacrament, her fingers threading through his hair to guide him a holy hail. The woman he worships and the pleasure he provides. He indulges in her, a delicate devouring of her, licking into her before nosing up until his lips drag over her clit, tongue finding that spot, a persistent press. He knows every moan, every jolting muscle, every crumbling exhale, another piece of her he gets to hold.

Her heel digs into his shoulder blade, knee bent and askew as she tenses all at once, hips canting up into his mouth, before going slack with a ragged breath of his name, a brilliant vision of release. A kiss to her hip bone, one to her heaving stomach, the valley of her breasts, the curve of her chin before he stops at her lips, both of them insistent in their shared tangle.

Where he worships, she wills, hands moving with certainty, working him out of his clothes until his skin can press against hers. The heat from the still-blazing fire sets sweat beading, cheeks flushed in warmth as they move together.

“So good like this, darlin. My woman, mine.” Her back arches up, the peaks of her breasts drawn taut against his skin where they’re pressed together, humid and hazy, all heat, all need. She’s perfect around him, cunt swollen and dripping as his hips spear into hers, her heel an insistent press into his ass. Stay here, be mine, stay here, I’m yours.

He ducks his head down, skin pulling away with a smarting stick they’ve started to sweat so much, his teeth catching on the curve of her breast, her cry washing over him when he bites down.

“Joel.” There it is, long and raspy, the only way he likes to hear his name, dripping with need, slipping down her throat. The slap of skin, the salacious sound of her cunt taking him again and again and again. And it’s greedy when he brings his fingers down to smear over her clit, groaning at the way she clenches around him, desperate to pull that pleasure from her one more time.

“Please.” Oh how closely pain and pleasure dance in the crumbling of her brow, the way her lips part around a frown that hinges into a cry when she unravels around him, wet and aching, the tendons in her throat jumping, inviting his mouth to press against them as he goes spiraling after her, his warmth smearing in the crux of her thighs.

They fall asleep to the slow, whimpering embers of the fire, a faint smolder of shadows cast over their still embrace, the night pulling them into the pagan new year.

…

“Have you seen Stevie today?”

“Not since this morning, why?” She shrugs at Ellie’s question, checking over her shoulder at the pot of herbs steeping on the stove before focusing back on her.

“I don’t know, I just– she’s usually around the shop at this time of day, I swear it’s like she’s figured out exactly what time you come over from school.” Ellie hums in agreement, swiveling a bit side to side on her stool next to the butcher block.

“Sometimes she likes to follow Joel, y’know, maybe she wandered outside the gate with him this morning.” That thought seems to distress Ellie, her eyebrows jilting up in a worried pinch that she’s quick to calm.

“Don’t worry about that, kid. Little miss may like to follow him, but she knows better than to wander outside. Anyways, she’s probably just found a little trouble to get into.” She’s a bit too distracted to worry much more about Stevie, she knows she can handle herself and her mind is stuck on the fact that Joel’s patrol shifts are ramping up again. It still nags her thoughts whenever he’s outside the walls, that maybe this is the time that he ends up like all the others, a constant eye on the clock until he’s back.

“You know he’s gonna come back, right? He always comes back.” Ellie’s quiet words snap her back out of her head, grateful for the easy comfort she offers.

“I know. Just, still gotta worry a bit. But I know. I bet we’ll see him and Stevie both waltzing toward us when we head down to the dining hall for the community dinner.” Ellie lets out a groan at the mention of their obligation to join in at the once-a-month shared meal, something Maria recommended as a way to keep the rumor mill quiet. She had never thought about it that way, that her keeping to herself made all the talk worse, and all the talk then made her want to shutter herself away even more. But being around the other folks of Jackson more, and not just when she’s treating them, has seemed to further quell all the swirling rumors. Hence, community dinner night.

“Kid, I don’t know what you’re complaining about. I’m pretty sure Dina is gonna be there.” Even though she’s certain they’ve been dating for a few months now, any mention of Dina is a surefire way to set Ellie blushing, which she tries to hide behind a scrunched up expression.

“I mean, yeah, I guess, it’s whatever. But I’m swiping an extra piece of pie for my troubles.” She has to laugh at Ellie’s huffy claim, shaking her head before turning back to the stove.

“I won’t tell if you come help me pour this stuff into these bottles.”

…

It’s not that he minds it exactly, he understands that it’s a good sign that people are seeking out her help. But he’d rather not hear about some man’s rash in the middle of his dinner. Ellie shoots him a grossed-out expression around her spoon, and Joel is inclined to agree with the sentiment, though his woman seems to have no trouble talking with the man about a salve she can give him for his particular ailment. The dining hall is close and warm, folks sharing tables with each other, conversation easy and echoing in the high-ceilinged room, and Joel can’t wait until it’s socially acceptable for them to leave.

“If you stop by the shop in the morning I’ll have that all whipped up for you, ok?” The man thanks her quietly, nodding to Joel as well before he walks back over to his own table. Joel, meanwhile, is trying and failing to remember the guy’s name.

“Artie Peterson, he works on the council with Maria and Tommy.” Once again, she seems to know what he’s thinking before he even opens his mouth, giving his thigh a quick squeeze before tucking back into her meal. But it isn’t long after that Maura Nichols is coming over with her plate.

“Hey y’all, is it ok if I sit with you?” She’s quick to welcome Maura over, pulling out the empty seat next to her for the woman and starting up an easy conversation with her. Joel can’t help but notice the worry lining Maura’s eyes, the quick glances away, and he reckons that she’s probably looking out for Matthew, guarding against another scene like the one he made at the town meeting. The thought is enough for him to try a little harder, leaning his elbows on the table to at least look like he’s intently listening to the conversation, nodding along to what Maura says.

“So are you two thinking about having a ceremony?” Ellie chokes on her sip of water when Maura asks that, snapping Joel back into attention, his woman letting out a nervous laugh beside him.

“Um, a ceremony for what?” She asks it on a breathy chuckle to Maura who’s still looking expectantly between them.

“Well I just assumed, two people in love and all, you’d be wanting to get married.” At that, Ellie starts coughing around a bite of pie, something between a laugh and a wheeze as Joel thumps her on the back until she settles back down.

“Oh, uh, I mean, we haven’t really talked about it. I don’t think that’s really our speed, right, Joel?” She turns her head to look at him, eyebrows creased in a clear plea for back-up.

“Yeah, I– we– that��s not, not really on the radar right now.” Maura nods, looking a bit chastened at their reaction to her questions.

“I’m sorry, me and my big mouth didn’t mean to pry, I just meant to say that you seem so good together, that’s all.” His woman graciously accepts Maura’s comment while Joel sinks back into his thoughts, Ellie muttering something about Dina and slinking off in the periphery. He was certainly surprised by Maura’s words, but even more surprised that the idea of a ceremony didn’t feel so ridiculous to him. He knows it’s silly, frivolous, something like marriage not meaning a damn thing in this world, but he doesn’t mind the idea of something official, something permanent.

He spends the rest of dinner somewhere between his seat next to his woman and a vague vision of a ring and a vow. But he shakes that thought clear of his mind when they step out into the cool night air, Ellie a few strides ahead of them, calling out for Stevie as they walk home.

“Sorry about Maura’s whole ceremony question. I didn’t mean to speak for you, I just sort of panicked.” She squeezes his hand, a nervous glance his way as they continue walking. He finds that he has to clear his throat before responding.

“No, no, that’s fine, darlin. Kind of a useless question to be asking anyways.” Part of him hopes that the quick flash across her face is something other than acquiescence, something closer to disappointment, but he doesn’t have much time to consider it before his attention is pulled away by the sound of Ellie letting out a clipped gasp.

Everything happens slow, as if underwater, Ellie kneeling down on the porch, curled over in a shuddering heave, Joel’s mind going blank with fear. And everything happens slow until it doesn’t anymore, her hand breaking from his as she makes a stilted jog up the porch steps, body going rigid as she sees whatever Ellie is hunched over.

What? It’s more of a shriek than a word, high and jagged in her throat as she sinks to her knees next to Ellie, letting out a string of staccato yelps. It’s despair distilled, the sounds she makes, Joel’s heart a tight fist as he tentatively steps onto the porch.

She could be sleeping, if you didn’t look closely. Laying on her side, having dozed off after catching the last rays of sun. But there is no rise and fall of her sleek, black fur, no stirring when Ellie lays a shaking palm over her belly.

Stevie’s not sleeping.

She’s trembling, reaching for the lifeless animal before jerking her hands away as if she might get burned, Ellie pulling her into a tight hug as she all but dissolves into sobs. And Joel feels helpless, standing over them, unable to figure out how to fucking fix this. But when his brain catches on the one thing that makes sense, that feels like an explanation and a solution all at once, he finds himself stumbling down the porch and back toward the main drag of Jackson, toward the Tispy Bison where he knows he can find who he’s looking for.

In another life, when he and Tommy lived on the road together, his brother had described what Joel did as like flipping a switch. Something would fall over his eyes and his mind, his body moving with a violent knowledge, purpose in the pain he inflicted. It’s how he moves now, cutting through the crowd in the bar and finding Mason in the back of the room, the grin on his face expectant, like he’s been waiting for him. And though the man opens his mouth to speak, Joel doesn’t give him the chance to get any words out before he’s grabbing him by the back of his neck and dragging him out of the bar on unsteady feet, slamming him hard against the alley wall.

“Tell me right now that you didn’t do it and I’ll think about not killing you.” Mason’s smirk splits into a slippery grin, not even struggling in Joel’s grip.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miller. But if you ask me, people oughta keep a closer eye on their pets.” It’s all he needs to hear, enough for him to pull his fist back before letting it swing scare into Mason’s jaw.

This time, he doesn’t stop swinging.

…

At some point, she must have worn herself out enough to fall asleep, sitting slumped on the couch, her neck tipped back in a painful crunch. Her eyes are so heavy, so swollen, that she can barely open them when a light squeeze is pressed into her shoulder.

“Joel?” Her voice is hoarse, barely cracking a whisper, too quiet for Ellie to stir, tucked close into her side and asleep. He’s kneeling in front of her legs, both his hands coming to rest on her knees, eyes searching her face, and suddenly she feels like she’s going to fall apart all over again.

“Where– where have you been?” It had been a blur, an awful haze, wrapping Stevie’s body in a thick blanket and tucking her into a box, both of them unsure what to do next except for cry. At some point, it had registered somewhere in the periphery of her mind that Joel wasn’t there, but it had been a fleeting thought, a deeper and darker wave of emotion washing it away in the night. And though she tries to be concerned about it now, any worry, any questioning is swept away with a fresh flood of tears.

“I’m so sorry, darlin. I’m here now, I’ve got you.” He shifts to sit on the couch next to her, pulling her into his side as she starts to shudder, her sob breaking into the fabric of his flannel. Her mind can’t stretch much further than the span of this grief, stop-starting itself to a jagged rhythm of disbelief followed by realizing over and over again that this is real, that her girl has left her. It feels like a horrible, lurching ride that she can’t figure out how to get off of.

“W-we need to bury her.”

“I know, darlin. We will. Just rest right now, ok? I’ll take care of everything.” They speak in a quiet hush, Ellie still sound asleep on her other side.

“I always knew it’d be time for her to g-go eventually. But it just– it feels too soon, feels too fucking soon.” Believing what she does, knowing what she does, it doesn’t make the agony any less complete, any less brutal. And once again, all she can do is cry as Joel pulls her a little closer.

…

They bury her in the backyard, beneath the towering cottonwood she had a proclivity for climbing. He knew that Ellie had grown attached to Stevie, but he’s still taken aback by just how torn apart she is, saying a few words over the freshly-covered grave before tears take over her voice again. But it’s the sight of his woman that keeps breaking his heart, a silent sadness taking over her slackened features, eyes and cheeks red with salt, her voice faint and uneven as she says goodbye.

He moves them both through the rest of the day, making sure they eat, coaxing glasses of water into their hands, keeping a fire burning in the living room where they’ve curled up on the couch. Joel knows grief. He knows that it comes in strange waves, reality stretching thin and frail in the beginning. But it still frustrates him that he can’t do more, that he can’t take their pain into his own hands and make it go away. Whatever he can control, he does. Whatever he can fix, he does.

When both of them have managed to fall asleep in the still of the night, he quietly slips out the front door, half-expecting Stevie to fall into step beside him, a twinge of pain shooting through his chest, a particular loss he didn’t know he’d feel.

Tommy is waiting for him at the stables, pressing up off the wall of the barn as Joel approaches.

“Let’s take care of this.”

The body has already gone stiff, wrapped up in an old sheet, both of them having to work to get it slung over the back of one of the horses, a heavy blanket draped over top of it to ward off prying eyes. Luckily, no one on patrol bats an eye when Tommy Miller asks for the gate to be opened for him and his brother.

They ride out toward the plains, the moon casting the hills in purple shadows. And, after deciding that they’ve gotten far enough away, together, they dig.

He had gone to his brother the night before and told him everything. And Tommy had made a few things clear. He would help him, but no one could ever find out, they would never speak of this again, and they would get it done as soon as possible.

They work through the night, the sun curling golden fingers over their shifting backs, stripped down to their undershirts, sweat sticking cool in the crisp morning air. When they finish, a fresh plot of overturned dirt lays before them, what rests below something only they will ever know, with any luck. Joel opens his mouth to speak, but Tommy stops him with a palm held out.

“Don’t, Joel. I’m not gonna judge you for what you did, but I ain’t gonna talk about it either. Blood helps blood, but I don’t wanna hear another thing about this. It’s done. Let’s get back to town before anyone realizes we’re gone.”

…

She wakes up the same way she did the morning before, curled on the couch with Ellie tucked into her side. It was a deep but restless sleep, nothing could have woken her from it, but now opening her eyes, she feels like she could fall back into it all over again. She hears what she assumes is Joel puttering around in the kitchen, the soft clink of dishes, the click of the stove coming on and the hiss of the kettle.

She knows she can’t stay on the couch again today, knows that people need her, so she presses her grief down until she can just barely swallow it, quietly getting up without waking Ellie and padding into the kitchen.

“You must think me really pitiful to be brewing actual coffee.” He doesn’t say anything, simply taking the few strides to reach her and pull her into a tight hug, her face pressing into his shirt, inhaling him so deep she can’t cry.

“I’m fine, really. I am.”

“No one’s expecting you to be fine, darlin. Stevie was, well, she was different, wasn’t she?” She finds herself letting out a weak laugh at that, nodding meekly against his chest.

“Yeah, she was.” Silence, and suddenly she feels like it’s a really good idea to stay exactly like this, swaying lightly in his hold, her nose buried into the fabric of his shirt, for the rest of the day, a sign in and of itself for her to disentangle herself with a shaky sigh.

“I’m not gonna miss any more appointments. Don’t wanna let people down.” Joel nods, holding onto one of her hands between them.

“I think people would understand if you needed another day, honey. But I also think it could be good for you, get out, take your mind off it for a little while.” He pours her a cup of coffee and gets started on breakfast, Ellie shuffling in and slumping down at the dining table next to her. She curves what could be a smile across her face, resting one of her hands over Ellie’s.

“Hey, kid, I’m gonna go into the shop today. Would you– would you wanna come help out after school?” She shrugs, a quietly murmured yeah, I guess as Joel sets down plates for all of them.

There’s no two ways about it, the morning is hard, making her house visits, half expecting Stevie to be trailing her heels, half expecting to catch a glimpse of her girl as she moves through town. People are surprisingly kind about it, offering quiet apologies that she thinks might be more painful than if they just didn’t say anything, though she knows they mean well.

It’s both a relief and a reminder, getting back to the shop, and she’s desperate for Ellie to show up so it doesn’t seem so quiet. But soon after she does come over from school, Maura comes in as well, carrying a small bundle of flowers, some of the last of the season.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. Some folks don’t understand how hard it is, losing a pet. But they’re as much family as anyone else, aren’t they?” She accepts the flowers from Maura with a small smile and a nod, still surprised by how easily this woman extends her kindness.

“I also wanted to see if you heard the news.” Her brow furrows at that, looking over to Ellie who seems equally unsure of what Maura’s talking about.

“Oh, you haven’t. Well, apparently Mason skipped town. Folks hadn’t seen him in a day or so, and Tommy finally let people know that he decided to leave last night. Why anyone in their right mind would want to go out there on their own is beyond me, but I say good riddance.”

It doesn’t feel right, though she can’t place exactly why. She looks to Ellie, whose face is set in a strange, steely expression, something hidden, working through something in her mind. Her thoughts flicker, moving her before it’s even fully formed in her mind, an instinctive knowing, like when you go to reach for something but find it missing.

“Maura, could you stay here with Ellie for a moment? I need to go check on something real quick.” Ellie calls after her, though she’s already out the door and heading for the stables.

Joel looks taken aback when he sees her walking a straight line toward him, but before he can get a word in edgewise she’s grabbing him by his wrist and tugging him into the stables, into the darkest corner behind a large stack of hay, her words coming out in a hushed torrent.

“Tell me right now that you had nothing to do with it.” His mouth is slack, brow furrowed, a picture of perfect surprise as she points her finger into his chest.

“What– nothing to do with what? What’re you talking about?”

“Mason is gone, and I swear to whatever powers there are, if you had anything to do with it I need to know now.” She can see the bob of his throat, eyes still wide at her outburst.

“Mason made his choice and he’s gone, that’s all.” She nearly laughs at his response, how dizzyingly vague it is. She knows him well enough to see that he’s keeping something from her, something in the set of his jaw, the huff he lets out as he speaks, and she wants more than anything not to see it, not to know it.

“That isn’t– that’s not good enough. Joel, I need you to promise me you didn’t have anything to do with this, please.” The tears start falling before she can stop them, and he’s quick to close the space between them, taking her face in his hands, his eyes steady on hers.

“I promise. That man made a decision and he left, end of story.” She lets him tuck her into his arms, lets him quiet her sobs, lets his palms run warm currents up and down her back.

He lies to her, and she lets him.

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

taglist: @boofy1998 @misspascaliverse @jasminedragoon @beskarandblasters @daddy-din @subconsciouscollapse @avidreader73 @pedgeitopascal @littlelou22 @wannab-urs @hannahlupinblack @whoiscaroline @str84pedro @mumma-moonchild @leeeesahhh @disregardedplant @mxtokko @igloo71 @secretdazeobservation @eddie-munson-dungeon-master @cressida-clearwood @mydailyhyperfixations @mingeniee @the-ginger-hedge-witch @delicious-collection @gab-thelamb-onthemoon @thereaperisabitch @lunxramour @jupiter-sky @parrotpeggy @abbiesxox @nerdreader @ssa-raye @vermillionwinter @jksprincess10 @jordycat-2018 @lavenderkee @hungryforbatboys @casa-boiardi

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #the last of us #joel miller fluff #apothecary #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller au

329 notes · View notes

aphroditessaturn · 8 months

Text

pairing || hobie brown × fem!spider woman!reader

summary || in your universe he's there, but not anymore and in his, you don't exist

note || this is short and antsy because I wanna try how you all like my hobie, so let's go. Reblog, comment and/or follow!!!

Your eyes scanned the room, heart-stopping once you saw someone…someone you’d never thought you’d see again, him, the love of your life.

A tear escaped your eye which you quickly wiped away, debating if you should go up to him and say something, anything, whatever your mind could think of. God, he looked just like the night you lost him.

“He’s not the Hobie you know,” a voice whispered, Miguel had laid a hand on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts.

“But he’s right there, I can see, hear him, feel him, he’s real,” you pressed out, eyes watering even more. You didn’t want to believe Miguel, why shouldn’t this be your Hobie? No, he had to be lying.

Miguel sighed, it was nothing new to him as he felt the same when he saw another version with his daughter. Having to tell himself it’s not her, it’s not him.

You couldn’t grasp how this wasn’t your Hobie, wanting to go up to him, hug him and hear his voice again. Just once, only for a moment, but Miguel stopped you and his expression was filled with guilt, but why? It wasn’t his fault, “he doesn’t know you, in his universe you don’t exist,” god, he didn’t want to tell you, however, he needed to.

Nothing came from your lips, there wasn’t anything you could think of to say, body almost limb.

“Here you can be friends, maybe it will help you overcome your grief,” his words were meant to help you, and encourage you but all they did was hurt you further.

You couldn’t be with him in the way you wanted to, why was it not possible? It had to be possible. You wanted to scream by now, fall to your knees and let the tears stream down your cheeks, your feelings were too strong.

“Let me introduce you,” Miguel gave you a comforting squeeze on your shoulder. Taking a deep breath you followed him.

Miguel cleared his throat to gather the attention of everyone, "meet Spider-Moon," he introduced you. Hesitantly you stepped forward, everyone was looking at you, but your eyes were only on one person.

"Peter B. Parker, nice to meet you! So, your name is Spider-Moon, that one's new! How did you get it?" a Spider-Man with brown hair and a toddler? Started talking, sounding cheerful and welcoming.

However you were a bit taken aback by his manner, "because of my suit," you answered his question.

"I'm Hobie, nice meeting ya Moony," his voice smooth and deep, the accent that made you melt every single time. Then the nickname, by god you thought you weren't hearing it clearly but you did, your Hobie called you that too.

"What?" you asked, all color drained from your face. Hobie looked confused, and went to repeat his sentence when Miguel cut in, "let's move on."

"No, I gotta go," you quickly forced out and sprinted out of the room.

How could he not be your Hobie? Even the nickname was the same, it didn't make sense. Tears rolled down your cheek, you couldn't hold it together anymore, you had to let go. Maybe you couldn't be the hero you wanted to be after all.

"Everythin' alright Moony?"

remember my inbox is always open for any thots, ideas, news – literally anything

reblogs or comments are welcome!

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown angst #hobie brown #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x female reader #hobie brown fic #hobie brown fanfiction

188 notes · View notes

hearted-anon · 16 days

Note

Hello, I know you had like a lot of lee!changbin fics but I think you could create like a lee!Minho and ler!bangchan. Maybe Lee know could get a lee mood that progressively gets worse. And then goes to chan and like acts bratty to get like a punishment. I don't know honestly. I've never written so idk how hard it is. Good luck.

Here kitty kitty~

Words: 2k Note: AHH my first inbox! Sorry this took so long.. and lee know always looks so done with Chan.. cuties T/w: Use of tools, restraints, begging Lee: know Ler: Channie

Lee Know absolutely hated this feeling. The feeling of butterflies swarming his tummy, the way he would stamp his feet and giggle like a female high-schooler in those retro movies when he watched clips of him being tickled, seeing his bright smile that he was always quick to hide, he hated it.

And to say he absolutely despised lee moods were an understatement.

It started off as a weird tingling feeling on his body, not enough to hinder his performance but enough to make itself known. Then it progressively made its way basically everywhere, including his soul. It was tearing him apart, mentally and physically, jumping at every small touch his members would give, and scowling right after before storming off.

Worried the members tried their very best to reach out to no avail, only earning very harsh words that spewed from the bunny's mouth, telling them that it wasn't their business. It wasn't, but concerned frowns were all over their faces as Lee Know grew more secluded and solemn, as if he had made a cat den in his room at that point.

He scoured through the internet in his best attempts to find what kept him so flustered and so up at night, tired of ignoring his members as he didn't want to be so open about this weird new experience, and his eyes finally landed on exactly what he wanted. His heart dropped and his eyes widened, refreshing the page over and over again to clear his doubts as the words stared right back at him.

A lee mood..? Wanting to be tickled? That was ridiculous!

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knocking on his door, making him groan to his absolute dismay. Flinging open the door in his frustration, he was met with none other than Chan, who wore concern as if it was his clothing around him, a bag of something in his hands. He looked him up and done as if a judge, before letting the leader inside with no questions asked. The kangaroo gave a small but warm smile, melting the bunny's interior in less than a second.

"What's wrong? You've been quite moody recently..." The older started off hesitantly, waddling towards the dancer to cuddle him when he noticed that Minho curled towards himself in bed with a very obvious pout. The younger let out a shriek of surprise, only heightening his mood more as an more obvious flush than his pout made its way to his face.

When the bunny didn't respond, Chan only spiralled deeper into worry, searching his bag to pull out what looked like a cat toy. It had a feather attached at the end, making Minho wonder in confusion, and more of the other one where it made his mind turn to mush.

"I heard this is good for gentle therapy, or something, but please?" The oldest pleaded with what could be considered the cutest little puppy face Lee Know had ever seen, making him babble in protest before ultimately giving in, by that it meant lasting for ten seconds. He was too cute; and it was a terrifying weapon towards the members at times, most likely also not knowing what he was even talking about.

With consent finally in place, the younger shuddered when he felt the fluffy item run gently under his chin, making him bit his lip to hold down his giggles. He must've made quite the scene, as Chan soon enough let up when it barely hit the minute mark, staring at the dancer's cheeks in mischievousness that bloomed behind his worried expression.

"Lee Minho, does it perhaps...tickle to you?" Chan chuckled lowly, the Australian accent prominent through his soft laughter as his fingers that once wrapped the younger in a comforting embrace curled into his side, the other hand toying with the feather item right in front of his eyes. The oldest finally caught the gist of what was happening, and was going to finally lure the cat out of its den.

"S-Shut up, old man." Minho internally cursed himself for stammering, squeaking when he felt fingers press into his side. He curled himself into the leader, wanting to crawl back into his den after just gaining a sliver of hope dangled above him that his stupid mood would finally be solved. But when it was someone that teasing, someone who was going to do this to him? He would rather dig his own grave.

"Nah ah~ Not how you talk to your elders, and I think you need a little lesson, hm?" Chan tutted at the dancer's predicament, giggling along with him when he noticed the flustered smile plastered on his face when he brought the toy closer. Of course he never touched the dancer, he wanted him to beg, beg for his reward that wasn't going to come unfairly to him.

"That's why you're so old." The cat hissed, his scowl returning to hide the swarms of butterflies that made his tummy feel like he was going to ascend. The leader might've been his only hyung, but he was really going to risk it all before admitting that he wanted to be tickled silly. Unfortunately or fortunately, Chan took it as his last straw, pinning the bunny's wrists high above his head and tying it down with his belt, the leather surface against his wrists so it wouldn't hurt.

The cat, now forced to leave its shelter had his eyes widened, crumbling before Bangchan's eyes while his knees were turning to jelly. He tugged and pulled at the belt that restrained his arm, finally realising the consequences of his bratty behaviour. No matter to Chan, he was going to make him pay with laughter soon enough. The younger squealed again when the same cat toy made its comeback down his arms, curse himself for wearing a tank top today in courtesy of his mood.

He clamped down his lips hard enough to bleed, whimpering when the feather went a little bit too close to his armpit before trailing back up, shaking his head in the light, ticklish torture that he was forced to endure.

"Here kitty kitty~ Are you going to tell me what you want?" The older cooed sweetly, earning a not so very nice snap of insults through held back giggles from the dancer. The leader heaved a disappointed sigh, when would Minho realise that it wasn't wrong to feel this way? It'll be fine, he'll ensure that that's the only thing he'll remember by the end of this.

"ARGH! Hyuhuhung stop it!" Minho shrieked when his other arm was tortured with Chan's nails, manicured to perfection that trailed down his smooth skin slowly and delicately, making it tickle much more than it should've. Out came no response, only the soft trailing of the feather and his nails that always went to dip near his armpits just to leave. Eventually the older got bored, although the younger was practically writhing in agony of anticipation, he wanted more.

Lifting up the dancer's shirt, the trailed the toy around his belly button, his nails now drawing tiny hearts around the area with a knowing smirk on his face, awaiting the crack he was wanting the dancer to finally have.

"NO! P-Plehehease not this!" Minho begs, just wanting the stupid toy to finally dip into his navel, but nothing happened, and neither did Chan say anything. He just continued lazily tracing around his navel, leaving Lee Know to suffer in the anticipation that he brought upon himself.

"Fine! I'll beheheg! T...Tickle mehehe!" He finally caves, unable to take the gentle tracing anymore when they neared too close to his ribs, then down to his hips, then around his sides, but all of it was futile when his hands refused to move anywhere near the certain area, only focusing back onto his stomach eventually.

"The cat finally comes out of its den, how cute~" Chan taunts relentlessly, before putting the cat toy aside to rummage through his bag again. He came out with what looked like a hair brush, with the softest bristles ever. Minho gulped, he was so dead, he hoped his members had prepared his coffin in advance as the brush hovered over his tummy.

"I was going to brush your hair with this, but maybe I could give that stomach a cute little hairdo!" Obviously he was joking, it'd be another world if his tummy could grow hair. Lee Know shook his head, stamping his feet onto the bed as if it would save him from the leader's fingers. He squeezed his eyes shut, preparing in advance for the brush to finally torture his waist.

However, he was met with his throat tearing out a squeal when he felt lips attach to his stomach, blowing a long and loud raspberry onto it. There was no sign of the brush, only those torturous nails scribbling gently all over his bare armpits that drove him up the wall. How dare Chan trick the cat? What a bad person Minho thought, well through his cackles.

"GAHAHAH! NOHOHO!" He squealed out, pulling at his arms that didn't want to come down with the belt holding them up, his face starting to heat up if it wasn't red enough already. Again, silence, but only because the leader was busy with giving all the raspberries to that tummy, his hands switching to kneading right into the middle of his armpits, making Minho shriek and cackle with laughter that bounced off the walls.

"PLEHEHEHEASE! MERCY!" He pleads to no avail, only earning a low giggle that vibrated against his stomach, only tickling him more. He babbles for mercy when everything suddenly stops, only for the older to pull down his pants slightly to reveal his v-line that was staring back at Chan hungrily. Well maybe that brush wasn't going to be used, but he was dead.

"Minho, I'm hungry, would you care to make me food?" Chan asks mischievously, giving a chance for the younger to breathe, which he was grateful for as he sucked in as much air as he could.

"Y-Yes! Anything you want, just pleAHAHAHA HYUHUHUNG!" The moment the bunny nodded, thinking he would be finally let off the hook Chan went right for the exposed sliver of skin, nibbling and giving raspberries as rough as he could, his fingers kneading and vibrating into his inner thighs.

He was sent into another bout of loud hysterics, he felt so content, so overwhelmed but happy with the electrifying sensations that coursed through his body, digging his heels into the bed from the intense torture as he thrashed around in his grip. Arching his back, he couldn't do anything but that, crashing back into the bed soon after.

"Nah ah ah~ You wanted this, where do you think you're going?" The leader smiles innocently, as if he's not tearing the cat into pieces in this very moment. Silent laughter made his way down the dancer's cheeks, shaking his head as he felt like he was going to ascend, trying to close his legs shut together to no avail when the fingers didn't let up.

Tears soaked the pillow case, he had no idea how long it had been succumbing to the torture before he was let up, trembling in exhaustion and totally not with a side of happiness. His arms were released, but it felt like he was paralysed, every muscle in his body was not cooperating with him right now. He couldn't feel his legs, nor his arms, just take his whole body as a living lump that he couldn't feel anything anymore. What he could feel was a certain pair of arms embracing him though, pulling him in for a real cuddle this time.

"You're so....bahahad." Minho grumbled, pouting when the giggles wouldn't stop getting the best of him. Chan simply smiled, melting the dancer's heart when those eyes crinkled and his dimple showed through, making him forgive the leader in an instant. He felt his eyes droop when the brush that never got its chance to shine went through his hair, feeling his heart finally lift from its chains of being embarrassed.

Maybe next time he wouldn't be so embarrassed, as Chan pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

#ok this was super fun #i wrote this in class too #lee!minho #lee!know #ler chan #ler bangchan #..?

46 notes · View notes

arialerendeair · 4 months

Note

Happy Birthday!!!!!! May all your wishes come true!!!! Good health and wealth to you!!!

As a Gabe anon, I feel compelled to give you a little idea and here it is. A Sleepless in Seattle AU!

Hob is a recently widowed father to a precocious 10-year-old, Robyn. They lost Eleanor just the year before and to help themselves, they pack up and move out of the city she grew up in to move to Seattle.

On the other side of the country, Dream is preparing to marry Calliope, whom he met at work. The relationship is fine. He likes her well enough and she likes him well enough. Marriage is just something that makes this all seem real.

It's Christmas Eve and while on a long drive home, Dream tunes into a radio show where Robyn is asking for a new wife or husband for his father. He's been real sad since his mom died and he just wants someone to join their little family.

Then Hob catches him and sends him off to bed and takes over the call. He gets to talking about what he loved about his wife and what he misses most. Dream heart melts for this stranger so many miles away.

Dream decides to write him a letter. He wants to meet Hob and Robyn on top of the Empire State Building on Valentine's Day, much to the chagrin of his friend Lucienne who rightly tells him he doesn't want to be in love in real life. He wants to be in love in a movie. He's also still engaged to Calliope after all. Dream thinks better of it and tosses the letter, which Lucienne still mails.

Hob meanwhile has moved on and has started dating again. Which Robyn doesn't like. He finds Gwen too weird for his tastes. Besides he likes Dream's letter the best. Which puts the house at odds. Robyn wants to go to New York for Valentine's Day, Hob wants to go to a cabin for the weekend with Gwen. They fight about it all day long until Eurydice, Robyn's new friend, uses her parent's travel agency to put him on a plane.

Robyn's going to New York to see his new dad <3

- 🤜 anon

ANON I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE GRATEFUL IN MY LIFE THAT YOU DECIDED TO COME AND GRACE MY INBOX WITH THIS. BECAUSE THIS IS GLORIOUS.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~

Hob has never been more panicked in his entire life than he was when he got the phone call from his babysitter that Robyn wasn't at home. The ensuing fight with Gwen had been quick, vicious, and frustrating. She had understood his need to go after Robyn, of course, but when she found out that Robyn had left to meet this mystery letter person, they'd had a fight over the love letter that Hob still carried in his wallet.

(Why did he carry the letter in his wallet? How long had he had the loopy handwriting memorized, how long had he known every single word, no matter how many times he'd read it....)

Hob had taken Gwen home, and had accepted her demand to delete her number from his phone and hauled ass to the airport, purchasing a ticket the second he hit the counter, racing to the gate in time. The flight was agonizing, and Robyn had clearly turned his phone off, no matter how many times Hob looked at it and begged for his kid to answer one of his dozen or so texts.

~!~

Perhaps Dream should have known that Calliope would not stand to play second fiddle to anyone, even an imaginary man who had no basis or truth in reality. Yet when she'd handed him the ring back with a regretful look, he'd felt nothing but relief. He had no doubt that in another world, they could, perhaps, find happiness together, but every time Dream looked at the Empire State Building... he wondered.

Strange that the sound of a single man's voice had made him decide to abandon all reason. But Robert Gadling (call him Hob, according to his adorable son) had sounded so wistful and so lovely that it had been impossible not to be drawn to the possibility of offering what it was that the man was seeking. No matter that he lived across the entire country and the possibility of him being at the top of the Empire State Building tonight was so unlikely as to be called impossible...

The romantic in him couldn't deny it how much he wanted Hob to be waiting for him there. Even if Dream had no idea what he looked like, or how someone like Robyn would like him, it didn't matter. The possibility of it all was a break in the 'fine' that it seemed had been suffocating him his entire life.

So Dream raced to the Empire State Building, barely making it past the guard, promising a quick look before he left, and ran out onto the observation deck. The sight of no one there, only an empty chill, had his heart sinking, because of course he'd been foolish, of course he had wanted too much, wanted the impossible - when the door opened behind him.

Standing there was a man, with his son, and they were in the middle of an argument.

"I told you no one would be up here, they were closed-"

"But Dad, his letter promised! He promised!"

"I know, but sometimes adults make promises that they can't keep," Hob said, his voice softening, gentling.

Dream stared in shock, because it was impossible not to recognize both of those voices. He'd heard them in his dreams for weeks now, and they likely hadn't seen him because of his all black ensemble. He cleared his throat and stepped into the orange light from the inside.

"I am in the habit of keeping my promises," he offered up, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. He stepped closer, even tough it was clear that they were both in shock. A moment later, Robyn was barreling toward him, and Dream caught the boy against his legs carefully, well aware that Robert Gadling (Hob, Hob, his name was Hob) was watching. "It's a pleasure to meet you Robyn."

"I knew you'd come, Mr. Dream. You promised. You said that everyone needs to have dreams, and how important they are, no matter how fantastical they are!" Robyn said, his face pressed tight to him. "You're perfect for Dad, I just know it."

Dream swallowed down the instinctive disagreement, because he was far from perfect for anyone, and in fact, it was the distinct opposite, where he was often too much. "I think that will be up to your Dad and I to determine, Robyn. But I have you to thank for our meeting." He knelt down, uncaring of he cold granite on his knees and met the warm brown eyes of the boy who loved his father so much, he'd tried to do the impossible.

"No matter what happens, Robyn, never forget how important it is to-"

"Put magic into the world," Hob finished, quoting Dream's letter from memory, meeting the wild blue eyes that sent his heart stuttering all over again. "Because if we do not make our own magic, if we do not rejoice in the magic there is to be had, it will fade away before we even know what we have lost."

Dream's breath caught and he stared at Hob. "You read my letter," he whispered.

"Dad keeps it tucked in his wallet," Robyn stage-whispered. "He's read it so many times when he thought I wasn't looking. I think he needs a little magic."

Dream's lips quirked and he grinned as Hob began to flush, his cheeks growing more and more red by the second. "Does he now?" He reached out and gave Robyn's hands a small squeeze before standing and moving closer to where Robert Gadling was tugging at his ear lobe in embarrassment.

"Hello Robert," Dream breathed, his voice soft. "My name is Morpheus Endless, but I would have you call me Dream."

"Hello Dream," Hob repeated, his voice soft, reverent. He could feel his cheeks were flaming red because the most beautiful man he'd ever seen swayed closer to him. "Call me Hob, please? If that's not too weird?"

Dream nodded. "Hob," he agreed. "You kept my letter?"

Hob nodded and reached out to pull it from his letter, unfolding it carefully. "I, I used to be a medieval professor. No one hand writes letters anymore. But yours was handwritten."

"Of course. It was important," Dream whispered. "It had to be a little bit magical. For the man I fell a little in love with over a radio show."

Hob gasped, his eyes widening. There was a story in the way Dream's chin tilted up, unrepentant, but aware it was too much, that it should be too much. It was a story he very much wanted to discover. He swallowed and looked down at Robyn who was grinning wildly at both of them.

"I think I fell a little in love with you when you turned around to tell Robyn you always keep your promises," Hob admitted, his heart pounding. Pink streaked across Dream's cheekbones and he wanted to chase it with his lips. "But don't you live in New York? We, we don't..."

"As it turns out," Dream said, pushing his hands into his pockets. "I am a children's author who is quite able to work from wherever he likes. So perhaps, I could offer my guest room to you both this evening, and I could visit the west coast soon?"

"Really soon, Mr. Dream?" Robyn asked. "Please?"

Dream winked at Hob and looked down at Robyn. "If I can manage it, I have every intention of flying back on the same flight as both of you. I can't have someone else stealing your father away when I have decided to properly court him, after all."

The noise that escaped his throat was embarrassing, but hearing Dream say that he intended to COURT him was... he wasn't the one who should be COURTED, not when Dream was, was, he was the one who deserved to be courted!

"If he will have me of course," Dream added, meeting Hob's eyes again. "I am perhaps out of practice, but I will do my best."

Hob could see the hesitancy there, the worry, and if he wasn't halfway in love with Dream already from that small declaration, he didn't know himself at all. So instead, he reached out, tangled his hands in the collar of Dream's jacket and pulled him in close. "We can practice together," he breathed against Dream's lips, swallowing his gasp with a soft kiss.

They broke apart to Robyn's loud cheer followed by the pointed clearing of the throat of the elevator bellman. Hob laughed and pressed his forehead against Dream's, holding onto his hand tightly as they made their way to the exit. Perhaps it would end horribly, perhaps it was a dream not meant to last, but...

Dream didn't let go of his hand for the rest of the night.

Or on the flight home.

Or on the car ride back to his house.

Or when he offered the use of his guest room in return for Dream's kindness.

Or, when, three weeks later, he admitted that he had fallen in proper love, and he wanted Dream to stay.

Dream didn't let go, and Hob let himself believe in the magic of happily ever after.

#Aria Posts #Dreamling #Birthday Asks #Romance Novels #A SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE AU I AM DYING #AND SCREAMING

90 notes · View notes

ruewrote · 1 year

Text

𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦.

PAIRING: glenn rhee x fem!reader WARNINGS: strong language GENRE: angst SONG INSPIRATION: on my mind by ellie goulding WORD COUNT: 521

navigation | inbox

it hadn't really clicked how you felt about glenn until the well situation, how he was dangling above a walker like... bait.

how your heart got caught in your throat as you watched and heaved the rope back with the others, how the tears stung in your eyes.

how you couldn't even look him or the others after the incident. separated from the group, your tent next to daryls.

glenn of course tried to talk to you multiple times, but you brushed him off. making yourself busy in the process, going on food and medical supplies.

teaching carl how to hunt and maggie how to kill the walkers.

the moment played on your mind every waking minute.

you had been with the group since the beginning, you were actually with glenn when you had found some of the others.

andrea not taking a liking to you immediately but her sister amy did.

the both of you had gotten closer since her death.

it came back around that somebody had to go further out for supplies this time. of course he volunteered. you refused.

"you can't keep letting him put himself in danger all the time, its not fair! just because he's what 'faster'?" pushing yourself onto your feet off of the couch.

"y/n it's fine really i—" he interupted but that didn't stop you from continuing.

"it's not, this is total and utter bullshit. he's been putting his life at risk since he got he and i bet he's done it before you arrived."

they all agreed for a different plan, a safer one for the boy.

the meeting was dismissed and you made your way out of the house with your head hung low. trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

grabbing a woven basket and started your chores.

slightly moving each chicken so you could grab the eggs, standing up straighter as footsteps were heard behind you.

rolling your eyes when you came face to face with glenn.

"okay seriously dude what is your problem?" still ignoring him but listened to him talk.

"first you are ignoring me, now you're sticking up for me?"

you just walked around him, stopping when he lightly grasps your arms holding you closer to his chest, face to face.

tears welling up in your eyes as you looked into his.

"i shouldn't be feeling this way. i barely even know you! it's so stupid." your words came out wobbly as you shake your head.

glenn listened whilst he wiped away the fallen tears from your cheeks.

"i-i just can't see you get hurt, you are always the one to jump to put your life in danger and no one ever second guesses it. it's not fair damnit."

"if i knew any better you'd think you've got a littl crush on me." a blush spread across your cheeks as his shoulder playfully knocks into your own.

looking at your dirty boots knock together in response.

"w-wait really?" no you're lying!"

gathering everything you had in and placed your lips against his, feeling as he almost instantly shuts up and melts in the kiss.

"woah..."

442 notes · View notes

f1crecs · 5 months

Text

Fic Rec List - Our Favourite Fics

if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let me know and we will remove it immediately, no questions asked. we have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop us a message🤍

have a pairing you want me to do next? please read the faqs and then head to the inbox.

don’t forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments!

thank you to @talictries for this lovely, lovely ask - and for letting us share our little slices of fandom happiness!

I thought this would be the perfect time to introduce the new blog team. I hope you'll join me in showering them with lots of love! 🤍🤍🤍

Mark/Seb

nsfw: I Heard You're a Player, So Let's Play a Game by Tianvette | E | 88.8k @boxboxbrioche's favourite fic. Mark and Seb are teammates, navigating a complicated relationship. This fic is absolutely stunning! There are parts of this fic that are haunting, that I still think of often, a year after reading it for the first time. The evolution of Mark and Seb's relationship is, although messy and difficult, so natural and so well written. I come back to this fic so often - I must be on my fifth or sixth read. It's captivating.

'Turning twenty-three clearly hasn’t made any difference to Seb’s infuriating cheekiness but surprisingly, he finds his chest growing warm with something like affection, his annoyance melting away like snow in sunshine'

Lando/Lewis

1999, heroes by @lilcrickee | M | 36k @ocontraire's favourite fic Top gun au that explores power dynamics, both in the context of age difference and in the more rigid structure of the military. The dynamics between friends and rivals keep me coming back to re-read this one, as well as the messy, lovely unfolding of the main relationship

'And just like that, Lando feels the wind get snatched from his sails. His chest deflates like a balloon that’s been popped unexpectedly. The easy camaraderie that he and Lewis had shared most of the night feels like it’s been reset. Lewis is his superior officer. Lewis is 14 years older than him. Lewis is someone bright and unattainable and Lando should tell his heart to get a fucking grip.'

Charles/Pierre

Name It The Blood by @effervescentdragon | Not Rated | 23.5k @singsweetmelodies' favourite fic. Charles and George are nobility, and Pierre and Alex are their respective childhood best friends who love them - until Pierre and Alex both run away from the lives planned for them to become pirates. They reunite just before Charles is set to be married. This fic just has absolutely everything, from complex worldbuilding to pining (so much pining and longing!) to not-quite-doomed period romance to pirate shenanigans to heartwarming friendship moments, and it is all so so beautifully written! I reread this fic almost monthly, and there are many lines from it that I can quote by heart. It still makes me tear up a little, no matter how many times I've read it. Just an absolutely stunning fic, from start to finish.

“Tell me, Pierrot,” he says lowly. “What am I to you?” Everything, every part of Pierre screams instinctively. You are everything to me, the sun and the stars, the air I breathe, the beauty in every flower I see for the first time, the rage in every sea storm, the one I would get on my knees for and worship like a God, the reason for my existence, the love of my life, the best friend I’ve ever had. You are everything.'

Daniel/George

nsfw: my temple will be beautiful too by @notthehardtyres | E | 6.3k @lydia-petze's favourite fic. Daniel, in his second year at McLaren, is in crisis over gender and body dysphoria issues that have pushed their way to the fore. He finds somewhere to have a breakdown over it, which happens to be an empty meeting room belonging to Mercedes. George finds him there, and eventually reveals that he himself is trans. Narrowing down all the F1 RPF I've loved to ONE seemed like an impossible task, but when I laid out my favourites to make the attempt, this is the one I kept returning to. It's stunningly good. The language around bodies, and physical reality, and not feeling comfortable in one's own is evocative and visceral - as physical as the selves it is describing. There is a recurring motif of light and refraction, and how much it can change the way we see something, or someone. George's support of Daniel is quiet and steadfast. His decision to reveal his own body is based in compassion, empathy and deep trust. .

'They don’t hear George move, either—only the sound of his deep, regular breaths. Daniel matches that rhythm for a while until their heart rate evens out and the anxious nausea recedes. The one time that they lift their head just far enough to see, George looks stoic and serene, staring at the opposite wall. He hasn’t even gotten his phone out to pass the time. What faint light diffuses through the window blinds has a cool bluish tint, and Daniel imagines that they’re somewhere under the ocean, pressed pleasantly down by the weight of the water.'

Charles/Max

nsfw: objects in mirror by @drivestraight | E | 87.8k @blueballsracing's favourite fic. A series, in which Charles Leclerc decidedly moves to Red Bull Racing and copes with the effects of having Max Verstappen as a teammate, all while he's trying to win his first maiden World Championship. This series is one I constantly reread, because of the characterization and beautifully written moments of what having a rival and a lover is like. It's my favorite fic in the fandom, and I suggest reading the entire series.

“Max looks—his eyes are slits, and his hand is still firm on Charles’ waist. “What are you looking for?” There are a lot of answers to that question. A championship. Forever and always. A gap to overtake. The racing line. My brothers, to hold my hand. Papa, sometimes, when I’m standing up on the top step of the podium, looking out into the crowd and praying for a miracle.”

nsfw: breathe you in (like a vapor) by @fabbyf1 | E | 53.3k @frickinsweet's favourite fic. An enemies-to-lovers story of Max and Charles falling in love over winter break 2022. Choosing a favourite fic was such a challenge (it felt a bit like choosing a favourite child) – but since I could only choose one it had to be this one. Firstly, Fabby is a fantastic writer and I would rec every one of her fics if I could but this one is my comfort fic that I keep coming back to.

This fic has it all: misunderstandings, a Max that is a little bit obsessed with and unbelivably fond of Charles, a Charles having a bad time and in denial about his feelings, petnames, Charles being called pretty multiple times, bickering as foreplay – you name it, this fic has got it. Most of all I love the charactherizations, especially Max who is sort of a weirdo who cant read a room for the life of him but also refreshingly honest and unashamed about his feelings. When I first read this I was new to F1 and definitely not sold on Max/Charles but this fic showed me the light! Also the smut is superhot 🤭.

Charles suddenly snapped back into the present when Max asked, “Were you guys finished for the day? Or did you want to play doubles with us?” Charles turned to look at Arthur, giving him a look that only a fellow Leclerc brother could understand. He didn’t need to use his words. It was obvious that he was telling him: we are absolutely not going to play tennis with Max Verstappen. Arthur tilted his head at him, his eyes locked on Charles before he gave him a slight nod. Because he totally understood. It was so nice to have such a solid, strong bond with his brother. Leclercs were basically psychic! “We’d love to play doubles,” Arthur said, turning back towards Max and Brad. Charles wished he was an only child.

#pairing:charles/max #pairing:charles/pierre #pairing:mark/seb #pairing:daniel/george #pairing:lando/lewis

74 notes · View notes

callofdudes · 5 months

Note

I have another HC to share with you! Ghost and Soap in the many timelines in the multiverse have lots of Deja vus together. They both always feel like they have met somewhere before and whenever they say something familiar, they pause, and stare. They don’t know why they stood still for that, but they did and both would get a flash of being in the same place but a different time. Never to be able to explain it but they both just feel like this is where they need to be. :D

I know this has been sitting in my inbox for a while, but I feel now is a good time to bring it up.

Simon and Johnny know each other. Well, they did.

Ghost knew John. Out in the snowy plains where they huddled under the branches of a naked tree, breaths of cold air mingling among the fallen snow.

They whisper softly and mutter about the harsh conditions as they talk over their strategies. It's hard to talk strategies and think about the enemy when you're freezing to death and the only warm body next to you is each other.

They know each other. They know each other's smells. Crashed in the same bed after a long mission, not necessarily romantic or anything else, just two men two need rest and the closest body to them while cooped up in a safehouse.

John and Simon know each other wherever they go. Everything they find themselves they always... Know.

Simon was shot, the remains of his body melted into the uniform he wore and his dog tags barely showing the name of an honored fallen soldier.

John kissed that same man's forehead, promising his brother in arms he'd avenge his death. And he did. So he thought.

John was killed. That was it...

Simon and John know each other.

Simon knows John though he's scared to watch him. Simon sits in the corner of the school yard at recess, watching that cute boy laugh and kick around the courtyard football with his friends.

He hides deeper in his sweater hoodie as he watches John. There's just... Something about him. A weird familiarity. He couldn't call it comfortable because truly he didn't know what that was yet.

But John was different. No one noticed Simon, he tried to hide. But John did.

Piercing blue eyes recognizing him as they were assigned for school projects. Staring into each other's eyes John recognized something in the lidded soft brown gaze that was shaded under the big hoodie.

They knew each other. It was something strange. Back at their age you might call it soulmates. Hell, they even stole a kiss or two behind the school building with racing hearts unsure of what this was for them.

Simon was scared, scared of everyone, but not of John. John made something turn in him, a familiarity he couldn't place. Among the wretches of a horrible school life John made him feel different. Like he was known.

John and Simon always know each other.

Whether it's that sweaty photo of football star goalie in the newspaper as Simon works his boring job that makes his insides tighten and his brain hurt. He recognizes the lad, though the familiarity must just be the popularity he's gotten in recent months.

They always know.

Even when it's that stubborn man with a charming smile serving up latte's while his eyes clearly watch the tall man sat at the corner table mulling over writing on his computer. Having order two cups of tea and written seven chapters of the man behind the counter. They're enamored with each other in every universe. In every scenario.

I'm the grocery store aisle when they meet gazes while cliquely going for the last bag of saltine crackers on the shelf.

Looking from deep brown to electric sea blue and seeing something deep. Knowing. Familiarity however much surface level it may be, they know.

John knows Simon, when he gently hits his lieutenant's arm, telling him he'll be waiting for him. Because it's comforting, it's natural. Whatever it is he's just like this with Lt.

Simon rolls his eyes because it feels good, something about this touch is different. Makes him feel different. It'll always be different. But he let's it slide because... Well he isn't sure why.

Johnny is shot and killed... Simon goes after Makarov alone to avenge the bond he had with his fallen brother. So, so much more than that. He dies fighting for his soulmate.

Even waking up, looking up through lidded eyes to the man smiling down at him. Having grown his hair down, a soft hand stroking his shoulder.

"You awake eh' Simon?"

Simon hums, taking John's hand and placing it against his cheek, leaning into it. John smiles softly, cupping his head and kissing his forehead, pulling him closer. Simon wraps his arms around him.

Johnny has always been that one. There's just something unexplainable. No matter what happens or what decisions they make, the universe will make sure they are with each other.

Because they aren't truly whole alone, and no matter where they come from or where they go, they'll need each other.

Whether it be walking out the days of school and stealing kisses behind the school building. Or that stupid goalie winking at the giant reporter, patting his bicep and taking the mic, telling him he'd give him the private scoop over coffee.

Whether it's Johnny making the move to bring the tired author another cup of coffee, giving him a gentle smile and telling him he's got him covered.

Whether it's simply handing over the last box to the random stranger with the weird mohawk and joking about both their diets being shit, sharing shopping lists and chuckling as they're both headed to get instant noodles.

Or whether it's simply after a long, fulfilling career in any of these, laying down into retirement and content to spend the rest of their lives in each other's arms, at each other's side. Because that's where they're to be.

They're Johnny and Simon.

Sergeant and Lieutenant.

Brothers, lovers, whatever it may be. There's always a way that they end up together...

#little thing #love the hc #call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty headcanons #ghostsoap #soapghost #drabble #cod mw3 #cod modern warfare #ghost x soap #soap x ghost

61 notes · View notes