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lovebugism · 2 months

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eddie x shy!reader who has never been kissed before? 🥺

hope u like it :D — you ask eddie why he didn't kiss you last night (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, established relationship, 1k)

The night after Steve’s big house party, you wake up on the floor of Eddie’s room. He’d wanted you to take the bed, of course, but you refused to let him sleep alone. The two of you ended up sleeping right next to the mattress, as lovesick as you are stubborn.

His body is warm next to yours — a furnace that warms the quilt under your body and the comforter thrown over you. He’s lying on his stomach with his face shoved into the pillow. Hair wild and mouth open and so, so far away. You feel the distance like a heavy weight on your chest.

Eddie’s breath hitches in his throat when he rouses. His eyes flutter open, and you squeeze yours shut tight. You pretend to be asleep while he stretches his tired limbs. “I know you’re awake, you loon,” he teases through a yawn.

You smile despite yourself, peeking one eye open to find him already looking at you. His curly bangs are frizzed over his forehead. His chocolate button gaze is softly swollen with slumber. He’s sleep-drenched and utterly beautiful.

“No, I’m not,” you insist.

“Oh, yeah?” he huffs and turns onto his side, shifting closer to you. He sighs in contentment when his warm feet entwine with your colder ones. “Sorry, then. Don’t let me disturb your beauty rest, doll.”

He struggles to hold his eyes open, and your tired smile widens. Your hands tremble with the longing to reach for him — to smooth back the curls sticking to his jaw and to cradle his cheek in your palm — but you don’t let yourself. You cage them under your head and crumble beneath the weight of your yearning.

“Do you feel okay?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he answers, slurring slightly as he wakes. “I didn’t drink much ‘cause I knew I had to drive us home.”

He’d partied for an hour or more, soaking in the sunlight of everyone’s drunken attention. You were content just watching him. One painfully awkward exchange on the dancefloor later — involving an almost kiss that ended up as a friendly peck on your cheek — Eddie started to sober up. He scarfed down water and bread and tried to keep a tipsy Robin Buckley from getting into trouble.

“Do you feel okay?” Eddie wonders upon your silence.

“Mhmm.”

“Then what’s this look for, huh?” His hand rises from beneath the blanket and migrates to your face. He runs a gentle finger over the distant frown between your furrowed brows you didn’t realize was there.

“‘Cause you made me sleep on the floor all night,” you tease in a hushed tone.

He scoffs. “I wanted you to take the bed.”

“And Iwanted you to sleep in the bed with me.”

Eddie’s quiet laugh fills the dim bedroom. His crooked smile is quieter. “I just didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable, babe,” he confesses.

“Well, it wouldn’t’ve,” you murmur, gaze averted and half-shut. You busy your fidgeting hand with a rogue thread on the pillow beneath you. You wrap it around your pointer finger until the tip of it blooms a deeper shade.

“Good to know,” he smiles.

“Is that why…” The words get caught in your throat, and you trail off. You don’t bother to finish your sentence. You were barely brave enough to start it, anyway.

“Is that why what?”

You shake your head against the pillow. “Nothing.”

“No, c’mon,” Eddie croons, shifting again until his head’s on the very edge of his pillow, closer now to yours. He flashes you a soft, well-meaning smile. “Finish what you were gonna say…” he lilts quietly.

You swallow hard. “Is that why you didn’t wanna kiss me last night?”

Eddie’s breath catches for a moment. He exhales a forced laugh and musters a wavering smile. “You caught that, huh?”

“Kinda.”

“Sorry…” He doesn’t know what else to say — how to say that he’s head over heels in love with you and that he’s just a total dumbass. It’s somehow easier to apologize for being both.

“It’s no big deal,” you shrug, even though the thought has plagued your mind for nearly twelve hours now. “I just— I wasn’t sure if you, like, never wanted to kiss me ever, you know?”

“I wanna kiss you all the time,” he blurts with a scoffed laugh.

Your brows pinch. Your sheepish eyes flit between both his cinnamon ones. “Then why don’t you?”

“‘Cause I want you to feel comfortable around me,” he shrugs. “And I don’t wanna make you— you know— feel like I only want you around to be all over you all the time.”

You’re made of something softer than that, Eddie figures. You were delicate, like flower petals and early spring. He wants to treat you just as gently. He loves you so hard he’s scared he’ll break you.

“Well, sometimes I want you to be all over me,” you admit in a faint murmur, eyes sparkling and lips quirking.

Eddie grins wide. You have no idea that you’ve just unleashed a pandora’s box of his affection. Now that he’s got your permission to touch you, he’s not sure if he’ll ever stop.

“Noted,” he nods, shifting somehow closer until you’re sharing the same pillow. “What about now then, huh? Want me to be all over you— morning breath and all?”

You peer at him with doe eyes, firm and unblinking. “Want you all the time, Eds.”

“Good.”

He kisses you then, a gentle peck you didn’t know someone as brash as him was capable of. His plush lips press gently against yours, in a fleeting moment you grieve the second he pulls away.

When he leans softly back to make sure you’re okay — to be certain that you still want more of him — you beat him to the punch. You chase him as he goes, caging his mouth in a deeper kiss that tastes only faintly of sleep. Your exhaled sighs fan together. Your lips click gently when you pull away.

“Woah,” you hear Eddie mumble.

It takes you a moment or more to open your eyes. You don’t realize how utterly dizzy you are until then. “Was that bad?” you murmur, face scrunched with misplaced panic.

Eddie shakes his wild head until the words catch up to him. “No. No, I just… I can’t believe we haven’t been doing this the whole time,” he confesses with a boyish laugh.

Your giggling entwines with his — innocent and pure and golden. He’s kissing the breath from your lungs a second later, with all the intensity of someone making up for lost time.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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fidgetquiltsandmore · 2 years

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What are fidget quilts?

I love making fidget quilts! These are some of the fidget quilts that I made. Please check my Etsy shop to see all the fidget quilts that I currently have in my Etsy shop. https://www.etsy.com/shop/theeveningproject Fidget quilts are also called activity blankets, sensory stimulation quilts, busy blankets, sensory mats for memory care, or activity quilts. Fidget quilts are lap quilts that…

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#activity blanket #fidget blanket for stroke patients #fidget quilt for advanced Dementia #fidget quilt for Alzheimer #fidgets for seniors #gifts for seniors #restlessness therapy #sensory stimulation blanket

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kittwix · 19 days

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First Kiss with the Joestars

Jonathan Joestar, Joseph Joestar, Jotaro Kujo, Josuke Higashikata, Giorno Giovanna, Jolyne Cujoh, Johnny Joestar, Josuke Higashikata (Gappy), Jodio Joestar x Neu! Reader

word count: 5.4k , it's long if you read all of their parts >_<

tags: very sweet; cavity inducing fluff, jodio is a little mean, reader stand isnt specify or implied, reader is gender neutral!

Jonathan Joestar

Your suspicion grew when he had invited you for a picnic out to the vineyard. He had made it obvious that he liked being around you, even at the times when he would be practicing for his Rugby tournaments, he would always encourage you to be there to cheer him up.

He would have everything all planned out, he had his maids prepare the basket for him and even went ahead to pack some of his favorite lunch items; resisting the urge to just eat them right then and there before he could meet up with you.

Upon meeting, he gracefully held the basket with one hand, offering his other arm for you to grasp. He greeted you with a kiss on the back of your hand, a faint blush gracing his cheeks, eliciting a chuckle of amusement from you.

"My, my, Jojo.. Have you contrived this all on my behalf?" You stood there, curiosity in your eyes and a small smile, as you watched your boyfriend carefully spread a beautifully sewed quilt over the uneven patches of grass. It was clear that this moment, simple as it might seem, was shaped with intention and care, setting the stage for the intimate afternoon you were about to share together. "Could it be that there is a significant event which has escaped my memory?”

"No, nothing of that sort." Jonathan replied, his smile casting a warmth over you that felt as comforting as sunlight caressing your skin.The sheer sight of him made your tummy flutter with butterflies; his handsomeness was evident, and his disposition was the pinnacle of gentleness. He was the nicest and most sincere boy you'd ever met. "What a delightful day out, wouldn’t you agree? The weather is simply ideal for a luncheon outing with my beloved.”

"Well yes," You hummed, now it was your turn to be embarrassed as you fidgeted with your hands for a moment and watched him take apart the lunch. "I cannot shake the suspicion that you are plotting something. Quite the mischievous schemer, are you not?”

"What? Me? That’s absurd! Do you truly believe me of being capable of such baseness?" Your boyfriend teased, mimicking a frown which prompted you to gently push on his shoulder as you shared a laugh. It was times like this where you could genuinely admire him. You noted the sharp outlines of his chiseled face, and how his kind blue eyes, reminiscent of the deepest sapphires, seemed to sparkle even more under the natural light. And oh, that smile...

You gradually moved closer to him, inch by inch, until there was almost no room between you. He twisted his head, appearing surprised by the sudden closeness, yet there was no sign of disinterest in his reaction. Silence encompassed you both, the world around you dissolving into a distant hum.

Within seconds, you closed your eyes and closed the final gap, your lips meeting his in a sweet, short kiss. It was a brief encounter, lasting only a few seconds before you pulled back, but in his gaze, you could swear you saw stars twinkling back at you. He glanced at you, completely taken aback, his mouth slightly parted as if about to speak, capturing a moment of wonder.

"Wow..." He reacted. "That was certainly not within the scope of my intentions, but I must admit.. It was rather pleasant."

Joseph Joestar

It was mostly his initiation, he likes to joke around with you a little too much but that was just part of his personality that you like so much. Not to mention that he can be pretty unpredictable, making him blunt in ways that just makes you like him even more.

"What do you want now, Joestar?" You asked, crossing your arms at the sight of your tall boyfriend creeping up on you with a stupid smile that could only mean that he was up to no good.

"Ouch! Can't a guy stroll up to his darling and turn on the charm?" He asked, seeming to have pretended to his offensiveness with a hand on his chest as he bats his eyelashes at you. “Anyways, got any plans later?”

“Oh, what’s it to you? Gonna take me out for dinner? Miss Lisa Lisa isn’t going to like the fact that you’re slacking off on your training.” You reiterated back with a little smirk and a hand on your hip. "She doesn't need to know! I can handle almost anything, baby! Just give me a shot, or else you might get kissed." He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, leaning in a bit closer, and you couldn’t help but conceal the smile that was growing on your face. With a playful push, you gently nudged him back, enjoying the flirtatious banter between you. “Is that a threat?” You raised a brow. “Or are you asking something out of me?” “Perhaps.” He answered back and for a second, silence enveloped both of you, heightening the tension in the air. It didn't help matters that he was so close, his scent filling your senses. Glancing around briefly, you released a small sigh, shaking your head in a playful manner. With a tender gesture, you reached out and cupped his cheek, the intimate moment shared between you intensifying.

“You’re impossible.” Your voice was a faint whisper, closing the distance between you as you moved in to give him a gentle kiss on the lips. The kiss, delicate and sweet, lasted far longer than you had anticipated, but you found yourself loving every moment of it. As you got closer, the temptation to melt into his embrace overcame you, and you could feel his eagerness through the curious movements of his hands, which became bolder by the minute.

However, just as you were about to voice your feelings, the distinct call of Caesar’s voice pierced the intimate bubble you had created, forcing you to regretfully break the kiss. Turning your gaze back to Joseph, you were met with his trademark snarky smile, a look that teetered on the edge of being both endearing and infuriating. He wore his joy openly, quietly bragging to himself about having gained something as simple as a kiss to you. It was a moment that triggered a playful irritation in you, making you want to slap his smug grin away.

As the moment between you faded, you watched him depart with a playful wink cast over his shoulder in your direction before returning back to Caesar. Even as he walked away, his cheeky demeanor left a lingering warm feeling in your heart, a silent promise of more moments like these to treasure.

Jotaro Kujo

On the contrary, it was an accidental kiss and wasn't something that neither of you had planned. It was in front of everyone as well, especially in front of his grandfather, which only heightened the embarrassment of the situation.

The situation had taken an unexpected turn, with suspicions that an enemy Stand user, possibly one of Dio's underlings, was involved. This required everyone to be attentive, continuously on the lookout for signs of an attack or sabotage, no matter how bizarre the situation may be at hand. Despite the tension, the moment had allowed for a brief lapse into normalcy as Joseph generously offered to cover the cost of lunch for everyone. You conveyed your gratitude gracefully, humming blissfully to yourself as you devoured the pasta you'd chosen, enjoying the flavors

However, your delight was cut short when you felt an unusual sensation in your throat. It swelled quickly, making it difficult to breathe and speak. Panic came in when you realized you were choking, and the situation quickly escalated from uncomfortable to life-threatening. It was Iggy who had caught on to this, the small dog emerging from beneath the table and began barking loudly at you.

The abrupt escalation of events threw the group into a state of alarm. As you began to drool excessively, struggling for air, a small, rabid-like bug emerged from your mouth, adding a surreal horror to the scene. Your attempt to cry out was muffled, choked by the intrusion. Polnareff and Joseph let out a collective scream, their voices blending in shock and terror. Despite the panic that was clouding your eyesight, you could see Avdol and Kakyoin rush into action, summoning their Stands with an eagerness.

In the midst of the chaos and fear, you suddenly felt a strong, reassuring grip on your shoulder, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with Jotaro. His presence was imposing, the brim of his hat casting a shadow that obscured the upper half of his face, rendering his eyes invisible in the moment. Before you could process the situation fully, Jotaro's lips pressed firmly against yours. Shock and a surge of adrenaline caused your eyes to fly open wide, your hands instinctively curling into fists against his muscular chest. As he pulled back, the realization hit you: Jotaro had taken the stand from your mouth, now holding it between his lips. With a look of disgust, he spat it out to the side. In an instant, Star Platinum was summoned, its fist blurring into motion as it delivered a powerful punch that sent the stand hurtling into oblivion.

Everyone was taken aback by Jotaro's action. It was a bold move that had you gasping for air. Your cheeks flushed with warmth as you processed the sensation; his lips had been surprisingly soft, and the kiss had carried a level of passion that left you questioning its intent.

The lingering sensation of his lips on yours created an array of emotions swirling within you, mixing gratitude with confusion and a hint of curiosity. The lingering sensation of his lips on yours sparked a range of emotions within you.

You cleared your throat, the unexpectedness of the circumstance made you feel instantly self-conscious, forcing you to put your plate aside as your hunger faded in the aftermath of the experience. “Thanks…” You said hoarsely.

“Yare Yare…”

Josuke Higashikata

You and Josuke attended the same school, and it had become a regular occurrence for him to offer to walk you home. At first, you didn't think much of it, considering it a friendly gesture. However, things took a different turn when your school friends started teasing you, hinting that Josuke might have a crush on you.

Today was like any other day, with Josuke offering to walk you home once again. However, a nagging feeling of guilt crept over you as you realized how many times he had gone out of his way for you without expecting anything in return. Despite your gratitude for his kindness, you couldn't help but feel like you owed him something more substantial.

As the two of you approached your house's doorstep, you fidgeted with your hands, an anxious yet grateful smile forming across your face as you turned to face the boy. "Is this like, the millionth time you've walked me to my door?" you teased gently, resting against the doorframe and looking down at your feet. "You're really sweet," you said, genuine admiration coloring your words as you met his gaze again. His presence was familiar and comforting, making every trip to your door a special part of your day.

Josuke rubbed the back of his head, a bashful smile playing on his lips as he blushed slightly at your words. "Hey, I was raised to be a gentleman, y'know," he replied with a hint of self-consciousness, his genuine sincerity shining through. "And, uh, I think you're pretty cool to hang out with." he added, trying to play it off casually but unable to hide the warmth in his eyes as he looked at you.

"Yeah? I think you're pretty cool too," you replied, crossing your arms and allowing your gaze to linger on his figure, almost as if you were studying him intently. Josuke, with his trademark pompadour, couldn't help but chuckle softly at your lingering look, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

You fought with the thoughts that raced through your mind, urging you to take the risk and make your move, especially after leaving Josuke visibly flustered. He was now haphazardly kicking at a pebble under his foot, avoiding direct eye contact as if quietly expressing that he was waiting for something else to happen before returning home. The tension in the air was obvious, and you could sense the weight of unspoken words hanging between you.

"I wanted to thank you for walking with me every day," you began, your voice wavering slightly with nerves. "A proper thank you," you quickly corrected yourself, hoping to drop a subtle hint about where the conversation was heading. "I feel like my words aren't enough. I think you deserve something more meaningful."

As you spoke, Josuke's gaze shifted back to you, curiosity and anticipation flickering in his eyes. He didn't know what to expect, but the moment he felt your hands holding onto his biceps, everything seemed to fall into place. His heart skipped a beat as realization dawned on him, his mouth going dry and his lips quivering slightly in response to the sudden surge of emotions.

Without hesitating for another second, you leaned in and gently pressed your lips against Josuke's, savoring the sweetness of the moment. The taste of cherry chapstick lingered on your lips, adding to the enchantment of the kiss. When you finally pulled away, a soft giggle escaped your lips as you admired the lovestruck expression on Josuke's face, his goofy grin speaking volumes about his happiness in that moment. "S-so, uh... I'll pick you up tomorrow?" Josuke asked, a hint of nervousness lacing his words. In response, you gave his cheek a soft tap, a reassuring gesture that brought a smile to his face. With a final glance and a warm smile, you opened the door to your house, leaving Josuke with a sense of anticipation.

“Definitely.”

Giorno Giovanna

During another date that he had arranged, Giorno bought you ice cream as the two of you walked hand in hand. It was a rare occasion when he wasn't caught up in his responsibilities as a mob leader and actually took the time to be with you. Being outside of the mansion felt refreshing, and you were grateful that Giorno shared the same sentiment.

"You know," you started, a playful lilt in your voice as you attempted to coax him into sharing the dessert, "it's one of your favorite flavors. Are you sure you don't want a taste?" Your attempt was light-hearted, an effort to draw him into a small act of normalcy, something as mundane as sharing ice cream on a date.

Giorno's response was a chuckle, the sound warm and rich, filling the space between you. "I'm quite sure. Today, I'm more than happy just to see you enjoy it," he replied, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter.

It made you wonder if he'd ever considered taking the relationship to the next level. Nothing extravagant, simply the fact that you've been dating for a while now and he has never initiated a kiss. How you ached to feel his lips on yours. Given his soft-spoken demeanor, you wondered if his lips were also soft and moisturized, providing an intoxicating lasting sensation with each kiss. Given that you were staring a little too long, Giorno had turned to meet your eyes as an evident grin spread across his lips as he cups his own cheek out of embarrassment. “Is there something on my face? You look like you have something you want to say.”

“Mmm, yeah actually.” You responded back with lidded eyes as you gave his hand a small squeeze and stopped your tracks. "There’s been something I’ve been wanting to do for the longest.” You admitted as the ice cream in your hands slowly melted from the bright sun above. You continued, “If I have your permission to touch you, will you trust me?”

"You always have my permission, you don't need to ask," Giorno reassured you with a gentle smile, his eyes watching you carefully. As you wrapped one arm around his neck, the distance between your bodies shortened, creating a more intimate atmosphere. Your cheeks were flushed, and the way he met your gaze without much of a reaction made butterflies flutter in your stomach. You felt his arm snake around your waist, and it almost seemed like he knew exactly what you had planned to do next. The anticipation and closeness between you added a thrilling suspense to the moment.

Eventually, the both of you lean in to share a passionate kiss. Much to your pleasure, his lips were soft and so were his hands as it continues to explore the rest of your body. You felt weak in the knees, your hand rested on his chest and once the two of you pulled away you were left starstruck. “Giorno...” “Shall we get going?” The question, simple and gentle, jolted you back to reality, yet the magic of the moment lingered like the afterglow of a sunset. His hand, warm and reassuring, squeezed yours. You nodded your head in response, letting the blonde lead the way as the two of you continue to enjoy the rest of your date.

Jolyne Cujoh

Well, it was more of a dare than something that was just intended. Whenever she was in a good mood, she hardly took herself so seriously, especially when she was messing around with her friends. Though it was pretty easy to break down the tough exterior that she occasionally displays on herself. That’s just how Jolyne is and you admire her for that.

You were seated comfortably on the carpet of your apartment, surrounded by your friends and the lively energy of the gathering. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, fueled by the risky game you had all decided to play. With each round, bets were placed, and allowances were on the line as you wagered on the most obscure acts and challenges.

However, things took an unexpected turn when Ermes placed a cash bet on Jolyne kissing you. The room fell silent for a moment as everyone's gaze focused on you and Jolyne, the heightened tension palpable as the game appeared to have strayed into personal territory.

“Where’d that even come from? You tryin’ to make fun of us or something?” You asked Ermes, your cheeks felt warm,

Ermes just laughed, a knowing twinkle in her eye as she observed the sudden tension between you and Jolyne. "What? Can't handle a little dare?" she teased, her grin widening at your discomfort. You couldn't help but feel a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation, especially when you caught Jolyne's eye. Her usually fierce demeanor seemed softened by the flush of embarrassment, making her look unexpectedly vulnerable.

Jolyne let out a deep breath, her gaze shifting from you to Ermes and then back again. "Fine," she finally said, the word coming out more as a challenge than a submission. She leaned closer, her eyes locked with yours, a mix of defiance and something softer you couldn't quite place. The room fell silent, the playful teasing of moments ago replaced by an almost electric anticipation. You could hear your heart beating, loud in the quiet of the room, as Jolyne's face came closer to yours. Her eyes flickered closed, and for a moment, everything else seemed to disappear.

The kiss was brief, a simple press of lips that felt like a spark through your entire body. When she pulled back, her eyes met yours again, searching for a reaction. The room erupted into whistles and laughter from Ermes and Foo Fighters, but both you and Jolyne were caught in a moment of silent communication, a question and answer passing silently between you.

Jolyne broke eye contact first, turning back to face Ermes and the others with a nonchalant shrug. "See? Just a kiss," she said, her voice steady but you noticed the slight pink still coloring her cheeks.

You were left a little dazed, warmth spreading through your chest. Although the kiss was part of the game, it felt like it carried more weight than either of you would admit. As the game continued and the evening wore on, you found yourself stealing glances at Jolyne, wondering if the moment had meant as much to her as it did to you.

Johnny Joestar

Just as he was about to join the big horse race, you had to pull him back a bit as you couldn’t help but worry about his own well being. It was a big deal, people can get way too competitive and you tend to worry over the littlest things. Of course, he had to reassure you that he was gonna be fine and that he would just have to be away for a few days, perhaps a few weeks or even months. The thought of being so far away from him already made you anxious and he noticed this, so he held your hands and looked up into your eyes.

"I'll be fine, promise," he responded, his voice full of confidence and calmness. You wanted to believe in his statements and that he would carefully go through the challenges. You knew deep down that despite the distance and time away, he had the courage and determination to return to you.

Before you could say anything else, an obnoxiously loud horn blared, causing both you and Johnny to flinch. The announcer's voice boomed over the speakers, signaling that the horse race was about to commence. You observed Johnny, noticing how his gaze fixated on a man in a hat, attending to a horse. While you were curious about his sudden focus, you decided not to inquire and instead diverted his attention back to you.

You stretched out and cupped his cheek, gently turning his face toward you. The touch was both calming and anchoring, a gentle reminder amidst the chaos of the race. Johnny's gaze met yours, and everything else disappeared into the background. The clamor of the crowd, the excitement of the race, everything went incidental.

In the heat of the moment, you let your body take control as your brain lagged behind. You wrapped your arms around Johnny, pulling yourself closer to his pretty face and eventually your lips locked with his own. You could tell you caught him off guard with the way his body jumped but he immediately melted into the kiss. The world around you seemed to fade into a blur, leaving just the warmth of his lips against yours and the rhythmic beating of your hearts in perfect harmony. It was a frozen moment in time, with every touch and sensation speaking volumes about your relationship.

After the lingering kiss had finally ended, Johnny's lips retained their puckered form for a moment longer, as if trying to capture the essence of the intimate moment. His eyes remained closed, basking in the residual warmth of your embrace. It wasn't until you let out a playful giggle and lightly tapped his cheek that he snapped out of his reverie, realizing that the kiss had come to an end. Johnny's face broke into a sheepish grin as he opened his eyes, the delighted twinkle in them reflecting how deeply he had lost himself in the experience.

"Having fun there, loverboy?" you teased with a playful grin, unable to hide the amusement dancing in your eyes.

"Shut up, and kiss me again before I go for real this time," Johnny mumbled in a half-serious, half-playful tone, already leaning in with closed eyes, anticipating the next kiss. You couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully at his eagerness, knowing all too well how much he enjoyed these moments of intimacy.

Granting his wish, you leaned in closer, planting a series of small, teasing pecks on his lips. Each kiss was light and fleeting, just enough to leave him wanting more but sufficient to see the satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Josuke Higashikata (Gappy)

His embrace was overwhelmingly tight, his clinginess something you adored in him, yet you hadn't quite anticipated the sheer strength he possessed. It left you feeling somewhat overpowered, as if you were about to be compressed into nothingness. Your reaction was a series of light giggles, and although you attempted to push him away gently, it only led him to draw you closer once again. Looking down at you, Gappy gently held your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.

"Josuke, what's gotten into you?" you question playfully about your boyfriend, but Gappy's arms remained tightly around you. Sure, you had grown accustomed to his affection, though it may occasionally take you by surprise with its intensity. You were also aware of his memory loss and continued search for his identity and purpose. Being one of the first people he met after losing his memory, he quickly developed an emotional connection to you, which you accepted wholeheartedly.

“You’re warm...” He muttered quietly, his fingers tracing patterns across your skin, inducing involuntary shivers. His acts toward you were noticeably compassionate, in stark contrast to his usual approach. Really, he had charisma, a natural capacity to attract those around him, as well as characteristics that made him unique. Nonetheless, he was ready to get violent at any given moment. But with you, he was someone completely different. He treated you with tenderness and care that spoke volumes, distinguishing you to be special in his eyes. It was this sharp contrast, this respite from his rougher side, that made you feel sincerely appreciated and cherished.

"Jojo..." Your words was just a whisper, a sweet utterance full of care as you softly lifted your hands, cradling his face with the utmost care.You allowed your eyes to wander over his features, memorizing each detail—the curve of his brow, the depth in his eyes, the subtle strength in his jawline. As you leaned closer, your lips discovered the warmth of his forehead and planted a delicate kiss. With each kiss, you followed a line across his face, from his forehead to his cheek, and finished with a peck on his chin. He reacted with a slight start to your boldness, a small but noticeable jump, yet he remained silent, his eyes speaking volumes of the surprise and warmth he felt.

You wanted to giggle, a sense of satisfaction at getting such a reaction from your boyfriend. You were about to say something witty and sharp, the words almost dancing on your tongue, eager to tease him even more. However, before you could make your smart remark, the scenario took an unexpected turn. His hands, echoing your previous move, rose to gently cup your face. The world seemed to stop for a time as his eyes fluttered shut, sending a subtle indication of his intentions.

Then, with unexpected boldness, he closed the gap between you, pushing his lips against yours in a daring kiss. His unexpected action left your eyes wide open in shock for just a second, leaving an unspoken query hanging in the air. But as the surprise wore off, a warmth flowed through you, and you found yourself easing into the kiss, your body's tension melting away as you reacted with equal passion.

Once the two of you pulled away, you were left breathless, your cheeks were warm and it was hard to really look him in the eyes after such a passionate kiss. You were at a loss for words as well, it was hard to really think about what to say next. It seemed like he was on the same page, his eyes simply looking at yours as he tried to read the expression that you had on your face. Rest assured, there was definitely going to be more kisses after that.

Jodio Joestar

Your frustration was palpable when you stumbled upon him yet again engaged in the act of selling drugs, this time to a group of unfamiliar faces. The sight of him engaging this illicit exchange stirred a flare of anger within you, prompting you to confront him directly. Standing there, your posture rigid with your arms tightly crossed over your chest and a frown etching deep lines of disappointment across your face, you were the picture of discontent.

Jodio, seemingly unconcerned by your appearance or the dissatisfaction etched all over your face, simply snickered to himself dismissively. He nonchalantly shook a baggie full of dollar notes, flaunting the goods of his trade right in front of your eyes, all before he had a chance to properly register your presence or understand the depth of your anger.

"Again?" You couldn't help but shake your head in disbelief, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you observed his repetitive behavior. It was a mix of frustration and disappointment that colored your expression, a silent plea for him to understand the significance of his actions. However, his response was careless, with a mere shrug that appeared to indicate a lack of regard for your issues.

"What's the big deal?" he asked, his tone tinged with casualness as he continued walking, dismissing your concerns. He passed you and headed in the direction where Dragona had parked his car. However, you were not going to let him off the hook so easily. You followed closely after him, the mean expression still engraved on your face as you gazed at his back. Your steps were deliberate, each bearing the weight of your frustration you had for him. His relaxed demeanor simply bolstered the urge to confront him and make him realize the weight of his actions that he had on you.

"What's the big deal?" For god's sake, you're a 15-year-old selling drugs to a couple of dickheads!" Your frustration spilled out in words, your voice infused with fear and exasperation. "You'll get in big trouble, and they'll take you away, and—" Before you could continue, you were interrupted by his irritatingly loud yawn. The interruption left you speechless, your eyes narrowing. The boldness of his attitude, yawning as if your issues were nothing more than a little annoyance, was frustrating. "You're unbelievable," you said under your breath, your words filled with disappointment.

"What's unbelievable is that you care so much," he spat back, his tone defiant as he stuffed the bag of cash into his pockets. He stopped in his tracks and turned around to face you directly. "What? Cat's got your tongue? You're kinda funny," he added with a hint of sarcasm, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Your initial instinct was to lash out, to give voice to the frustration swirling inside you. But in a split second, something shifted, and before you could fully process it, your impulses took over. Without a second thought, you grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie, pulling him closer, and pressed your lips onto his.

The kiss was impulsive, a burst of emotion that manifested in the heat of the moment. You could feel the texture of his slightly chapped lips against yours. It was a surprise even to yourself, this sudden act of intimacy amidst the tension and conflict that had defined your interaction moments ago.

“I’ll… see you around.”

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star-writes-sometimes · 9 months

Text

bullying and cuddles

word count: 2.3k

cw: fem reader, reader implied to have anxiety cause im projecting, swearing, bullying (affectionate), fluff, idiots in love, probably ooc tangerine but whatever

a/n: i needed domestic fluff, is this similar to other stuff ive written? yes but i dont care i love domestic fluff. i geniuenly was debating posting this because i kinda hate it but yknow c'est la vie

---—---

you emerged from the safe house bathroom after brushing your teeth in an old tshirt and pyjama shorts. both of the boys bedroom doors were closed and you could hear the thomas the tank engine theme song coming from lemon’s room.

the door of your room was open and your suitcase was on the ground, clothes messily thrown all over the place. you had been here for about four days now so you were settled in as much as you could be in a new environment.

you and the twins were staking out a place and it was long and tedious, by this point you were thoroughly bored and ready for this to end so you could go back home. you couldn’t stand another night in the cold unfamiliar bed.

so, instead you knocked on tangerine’s door.

“come in.”

you opened the door and walked in, quickly shutting it behind you and leaning against it, facing tangerine. he was sat up in his bed reading a book. he was wearing a plain tshirt and pyjama pants. he looked comfy, more relaxed than he usually was. the quilt was folded neatly at the end of his bed and his suitcase on the floor was immaculately organised, a stark contrast to how your room looked.

“hi,” he said smiling at you.

“hi,” you returned the smile.

“cute pyjamas.”

you were wearing a faded marvin the martian tshirt and pyjama shorts covered in little oranges, “they’re oranges.”

“you sure you didn’t wear them just for me, love?” he smiled wider at you, cocking his head to the side slightly, “cause you look adorable.”

“why would i wear them for you, you’re my third favourite person in this house,” you scoffed.

“are you putting yourself above me?”

“i know my worth,” you squinted at the book he had in his hands, “whatcha reading?”

“uhh,” he glanced down at the page he was on, “the hunger games.”

“really?”

“why are you surprised?”

“i don’t know,” you laughed slightly, “i can only image you reading old or pretentious books.”

“are you calling me pretentious?”

you snapped your fingers in realisation, “tolstoy, you seem like the tolstoy type have you read anna karenina?”

“well, yes i have but i don’t just read old books.”

“so, hunger games.”

“yeah, it’s good criticism on violence in capitalistic societies.”

“i don’t think professional assassins should have a say on violence in capitalistic societies.”

he rolled his eyes, “then i enjoy the commentary on consumerism.”

you glanced at the gold jewellery on the bedside table, “i don’t think you can have a say on that either.”

he followed you eye line, “oh fuck off.”

you laughed, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry.” you shifted around slightly in your spot against the door.

“did you come in here for a reason or just to take the piss out of me?”

you thought back to your lifeless room, “i was bored and i couldn’t annoy lemon.”

“why not, you’d probably enjoy his company more than mine,” his eyes drifted back down to his book.

“he’s watching thomas and there’s only so much of that i can take.”

he nodded, “understandable.”

there was a pause and you fidgeted with your hands nervously. you didn’t notice tangerine staring at you intently, contemplating what he should do.

“come sit with me,” he gestured to the empty spot next to him.

“are you sure?” you hesitated, bringing up your hand to chew on your nails.

“‘course love.”

you slowly moved over and sat on the bed next to him, keeping distance between you both on the queen sized bed.

it was silent again and you pulled your knees up against your chest, resting your chin on your knee.

“what part are you up to?” you asked.

“the interviews with caesar.” he turned his head and focused on you, noting your position and the gap you put between the both of you, “have you read it before?”

“back when i was a teenager but not since then.” you avoided his eyes, feeling anxious about the sharp eye contact, “have you read it before?”

“yeah, i’ve read it a few times.”

you just hummed in response. despite the nervous thoughts running through your head it felt better being in here with tangerine than being alone in your room. it was better having anxiety over being alone with the guy you were crushing on than the emptiness you would have felt by yourself in your room.

“come here love.” he said softly.

“what?” your eyes snapped up to him.

“sit next to me properly.”

you moved slightly closer, still leaving space between you both.

tangerine rolled his eyes and put his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side, “i’m not gonna fucking bite ya love, you can sit next to me.”

you scrunched your nose up at him, “i just didn’t want to get cooties.”

“you think i have cooties?”

“yup you have phytophthora gummosis.”

“what the fuck are you talking about?”

you laughed and leant into him more, “it's a disease that affects citrus trees.”

he tried not to smile, “how long have you been waiting to make that joke.”

“a few weeks,” you smiled brightly, “i did research on citrus trees.”

“just so you could take the piss out of me?”

“i had to, you look cute when you’re all annoyed and scrunch your eyebrows up.” you reached up and run over one of his eyebrows with your thumb.

“don’t call me cute.”

“why not? you are.”

“i’m meant to be intimidating.”

“how could anyone be scared of you? you’re reading the hunger games.”

“very funny, i can be scary and enjoy the hunger games.”

“are you team peeta or gale?”

“definitely peeta, he was smart and a romantic,” tangerine said, like he had thought about it a lot before.

“oh so you’re a romantic that adds to your scariness.”

“you’re bullying me, you’re a bully,” he pinched your side, enjoying the way you squirmed into him.

you yawned and put your head on his shoulder. he repositioned his arm that was around your shoulder and started stroking your hair.

“are you tired darling?”

you blinked sluggishly, “yeah… i should probably go-”

you started to get up but was stopped and cut off by tangerine.

“no, stay,” he held onto you, “you just relax.”

you bite your lip anxiously but try to relax into him again. you stared at the book in his hand, studying the mockingjay symbol on the cover.

“what’s on your mind pet?”

you felt your neck heat up at the unfamiliar nickname, “uh can you maybe read to me?”

“you want me to read to you?”

you nodded.

“you sure you’ll be able to understand with the accent?”

“you’re british not an alien, i can understand you fine.”

“okay.” he pulled you close, you settled with your head on his chest and his arm comfortably around you. he smiled down at you, silently grateful that you couldn’t see the way he was looking at you, “you ready?”

“yeah,”

“okay darling,” he took his focus off you and onto the book, “i’m still in a daze for the first part of peeta’s interview. he has the audience from the get-go, though; i can hear them laughing, shouting out. he plays up the baker’s son thing, comparing tributes to the bread from their districts.”

“what would your strategy be in the interviews?” you asked.

“i’m not sure.”

“i don’t think you could pull off the charming thing.”

“wow, thanks love your doing wonders for my self esteem,” he replied sarcastically.

you smiled, “no that’s not what i meant, you’re plenty charming, i just think you’d be better as one of those career tributes everyone is scared of.”

“i thought you said i wasn’t scary?”

“shhh that was minutes ago you should’ve forgotten about that by now, just keep reading.”

“right sorry,” he laughed slightly, “then he has a funny anecdote about the perils of the capital showers. ‘tell me, do i still smell like roses?’ he asks caesar, and then there's a whole run where they take turns sniffing each other that brings down the house.”

“maybe you would be charming, you always smell really nice.”

“thank you, darling,” he kissed your forehead and pulled you impossibly closer, “you smell nice too.”

you smiled and adjusted your position so you could hold onto his shirt.

“i’m coming back into focus when caesar asks him if he has a girlfriend back home.” he continued, “peeta hesitates, then gives him an unconvincing shake of his head. ‘handsome lad like you. there must be some special girl. come on what’s her name?’ says caesar. peeta sighs. ‘well there is this one girl. i’ve had a crush on her ever since i can remember. but i’m pretty sure she didn’t know i was alive before the reaping.’”

tangerine glanced down at you half surprised and half disappointed you didn’t interrupt again. he liked listening to you talk.

your breathing had evened and your eyes had closed. you’d fallen asleep against him. he bookmarked the book and placed it on his side table. he carefully reached down, grabbed the quilt and pulled it over the both of you.

“goodnight, love.” he kissed your cheek gently.

—

lemon woke up the next morning and stumbled into the kitchen, prepared to see tangerine already up and cooking breakfast for the three of you. he was shocked to find the kitchen empty, no trace of you or tangerine.

he looked over at both your bedroom doors and saw yours open and empty. weird. you were usually the last awake, having to be woken up by one of the twins.

lemon walked over to tangerine’s door and opened it, “hey bruv have you seen-” he cut himself off looking down at the scene in front of him.

you were asleep in tangerine’s arms and he was holding you close. he was awake and staring down at you, playing with your hair and gently tracing your features as you slept.

lemon snickered, “whats going on here, then?”

“shut the fuck up,” tangerine immediately fired back but lemon knew it was less harsh than it usually was. despite all the teasing tangerine knew he’d get, he was happy.

“this is cute, it really is.” lemon quipped, “but i have no clue how to make breakfast so please get up soon.”

“i’m not interrupting her sleep just cause your fucking incompetent.”

“fine, just don’t blame me if i burn this place down trying to make toast,” lemon started to leave.

“stop, just wait ten minutes then i’ll make you some fucking food.”

“thanks bruv, really appreciate it.”

“whatever.”

lemon left and tangerine was alone with you again.

tangerine moved your hair away from your face, “sweetheart?” he kissed your forehead, “if you don’t wake up soon the smoke alarm will probably wake you.”

you stretched slightly and snuggled into tangerine more, “this is nicer than the way lemon wakes me up.”

“if we don’t get up soon lemon is gonna try to cook,” he held your face and kissed you cheek gently.

“we can’t have that he’ll probably poison us all,” you sat up and rubbed your eyes, “why is your bed comfier than mine?”

“because i actually make mine?” he got up and stared down at you still wrapped in the blanket.

“ha ha,” you laughed dryly and fell back into the bed.

you closed your eyes again and settled back into the bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin. it really was a comfortable bed.

your peaceful rest was interrupted by getting lifted into the air.

your eyes flew open as tangerine picked you up, carrying you into the kitchen. you wrapped your arms around his neck and held on tightly.

"what the fuck are you doing, you fucking numpty!?"

"you looked peaceful i didn't want to have to wake you again."

"well it didn't fucking work you twat."

"sorry, love," he set you down on the kitchen bench and kissed you cheek, "but you look cute when your annoyed."

you felt your face heat slightly and turned your face away from him.

"stop flirting and make me breakfast." lemon interrupted.

"you could say please, you wanker," tangerine snapped at him.

"please, make us breakfast, please, mr. fruit?" you said giving your best puppy dog eyes.

"for you, not for him, darling."

you smiled, "thank you, tan."

“you’re a twat,” lemon added.

tangerine flipped lemon off and started making pancakes. you jumped off the kitchen bench and moved over to the kettle, checking it was full before boiling it.

“lemon, do you want a cuppa?”

“yeah,” lemon mumbled, distracted by his comic.

tangerine whacked lemon up the side of his head.

“yes please, sweetheart," lemon corrected himself.

“thanks lem,” you laughed slightly at the sibling abuse.

the kettle flicked off and you finished making the three cups of tea and handed one to lemon who smiled in thanks. you walked over to tangerine and placed one on the counter in front of him.

tangerine grabbed your waist and pulled you in for a kiss on the cheek, “thank you pet.”

you pulled away from him and started drinking your own cup, watching tangerine as he cooked and plated the golden pancakes.

“so did you two fuck last night?” lemon abruptly asked.

you choked on your tea and tangerines head snapped up to glare at him.

“no we slept together,” tangerine slowly replied.

lemon snorts, “i thought that was the same thing.”

“no you bellend we actually just slept, we were tired,” tangerine snapped.

you gulped down the rest of your tea and quickly placed your mug in the sink, “i’m gonna go shower boys, please save me some pancakes.” you smiled at the both and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

once you were gone lemon spoke up again, “you gonna tell her you love her yet?"

“shut up,” tangerine hissed, glancing at the shut bathroom door.

“she likes you too you know.”

tangerine didn’t respond for a few seconds, “really?”

“you’re in love with each other you both just fucking stupid.”

and for once tangerine didn’t feel the need to throw an insult back, he just reveled at the thought that you could like him too.

#tangerine #bullet train #tangerine x reader #bullet train 2022 #bullet train x reader #tangerine x you

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takami-takami · 10 months

Text

Roost and Repair.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. comfort.

warnings— anxiety (could be from anything). keigo taking care of you.

If someone were to ask you what your plans are this Saturday afternoon, you'd internally answer, "rotting away, probably."

Externally, you'd say, "not much, how about you?"

It's a sickening twist of the tongue to utter such falsities; you never did enjoy burying the truth. But you'll be damned if you let the tides of others' perceptions and social regulations singe your exposed nerve endings; like cheap wiring, frayed and lighting with the most unpleasant sparks at the utterance of a word or glance your way.

It's a lot easier to simply shut and latch all three locks on your bedroom door instead, to cover your body with the heaviest comforter you can find in order to insulate your raw wiring in at least some capacity.

It's fucking June. You can see the waves of heat eminating from the light of the sun through your open window; yet here you are, bundled up like it's the peak of December.

You would be sweating from the adrenaline regardless, you remind yourself.

You swear to God, if a single soul decides to lift a knuckle against your door, you'd lose what little grasp you have on–

Tap, tap, tap-tap, tap, goes the glass of your window; and it sounds like a lifeline, instead.

Cloaking yourself in your quilt, your bare feet hop off the matress and meet the carpet. You drag the hem of the blanket behind you along the floor as you make your way to unlatch the lock.

"Heyo," Keigo sings, clutching the pane above his head with both hands and swooping in feet first. He lands in your room like he just finished a somersault. Waltzing inside, he pops the joints of his neck as he stretches like a cat. "Got off patrol early on a Saturday, can you believe it? Flew straight over to see my favorite– oh."

He blinks at you, studying the stiff way you tremble as you look at him; like a sad, wet dog.

"Baby. It's burning up outside," he reminds you, tone taking a stark shift. "Are you sick? You don't look so good."

Gloved palms tap up your arms while he looks you over, removing one glove so he can place the back of his hand against your forehead to check your temperature.

You snort. "Not sick, Kei."

His eyes trail down. Your thumbs are working themselves into a frenzy against your cuticles.

Realization falls over his face and he mouths a silent oh. His right hand darts down to his coat pocket, pulling out some fidget toys and placing them with reverence in your palm. He closes your hands around it.

"Thank you, Kei," you squeak out, twisting the plastic this and that way, wringing your irritability dry against the little outlet instead.

"I gotcha, sweetpea," he says. Two palms, one gloved and one bare, reach out before him to make grabby hands in a silent request; and just as his feathers twitch with hope, you spring forward into his arms, wrapping your legs snug across the small of his back.

He coos, nuzzling against your neck while he walks you back to bed. Three feathers dart their way past while he walks. One retrieves two bottles of water from the kitchen, another turning on the AC. The third feather pauses in your bedroom, taking care in its selection of the perfect plushie for you to hold on to.

"Don't gotta put up a front around me. I can see right through you," he teases, pulling his head back to poke once at your nose.

You scrunch it in mock offense, sending a jolt right through his beating heart.

"I know I don't," you assert.

"And I know you won't," he answers.

A pause drapes over the room as you reach your bed. "Anything you need from me, dove," he asks, not bothering to pry your body from his when he sits down.

"Mm. Just you being here s'good.. It's awful today, Kei," you explain easily, letting your shoulders down.

Keigo hums. It's a low, empathetic sound that drums against your ears and rumbles within the cavity of your chest. You can practically feel it insulating the exposed wires, can feel his voice soothing the ache with its warm timbre.

Keigo, more than anyone else, knows you don't want to be percieved. You want to be seen.

With a single kiss atop the crown of your head, he sighs in contentment.

He'll always be grateful for the opportunity to protect you.

#kei immediately calling to light when he senses something is wrong. immediately talking about it. immediately going protective mode. wah.#🖋 writing #🍧 sugar #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha x reader #mha imagines

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cowboylor · 1 year

Text

domesticated

matty is under the weather and you take it as a rare opportunity to play house.

wc: 0.7k

warnings: language?, nothing weird, this is self-indulgence for my 2014 self, BUT a little angst if you squint

By the time you enter your apartment, he’s already stolen your freshly-washed blanket and deep diving through your Netflix. He glosses over the recently watched Gilmore Girls with an unjustified look of contempt.

You announce your arrival with a boisterous display of the holiday-colored cup in your left hand and the grocery bag of Tylenol and saltines in your right.

“One tea for a very, VERY–” Matty glowers and you limit it to two verys. “–sick and malnourished man.”

“And abandoned,” He mutters as you shove the tea into his hand.

You fight the urge to smile at the rasp in his voice and the way he’s wrapped himself in your blanket. Instead, you look amused as he examines the brightly colored cup with suspicion. He glances up at you with reluctance.

“Me and millions of others swear by it,” You assure.

You set the grocery bag by the foot of the couch before joining him on the loveseat.

He brings it to his lips and grimaces, “Smells like piss.”

“That’s a downside for you?”

He leans over to lightly flick the base of your chin, and grins: “Cheeky.”

You busy yourself by shuffling through the bag, listing off medication and time periods when he can take said medications as Matty watches you spew while also shuffling bottles and condiments to him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” He says, his raspy voice evident. “My head aches, my throat hurts. It’s razors.”

“Poor baby,” You coo, before pressing a kiss to his neck and springing off the couch. His hand trails your arm until you’re too far away. “What will we ever do without that sweet voice?”

Matty turns over against the couch, pulling the quilt with him. “Don’t patronize.”

“I was thinking of making soup–” He hums against the cushion as you speak as you round past the kitchen. “–chicken if it’s all the same to you. You’re probably not hungry, but I’ve found that as long as you keep your appetite up, the faster the road of recovery is, you know?”

You feel his gaze on you as you shuffle with pots and pans and the half-empty chicken broth in the back of your fridge. But you continue to babble on about soup and proper medication intervals but soon you can’t ignore the staring. You glance up to meet his eyes and notice the faint circles under his eyes that make your heart twinge and for a second, you think something’s wrong.

You set the pan aside, “Everything ok?”

“I think you enjoy this,” He says, a smirking through semi-cracked lips. You tilt your head. “Me being at your mercy and all.”

The choice of words makes you snort and it just makes his grin widen. You’d never voice it to him because you don’t want to come off as clingy but Matty smiling on your couch is one you want more of. You’re used to seeing him smiling in front of fans and large crowds, but this one feels the most personal.

You fight a smile, before turning your back to the stove: “Never.”

In your life, you’ve heard from others how men tend to resemble sick, Victorian children whenever they catch a cold—groaning in misery whenever their heads ache or flipping under the covers in agitation when their throats dry up. And this, you’re becoming more convinced is true with every hour of a sweaty Matty muttering into your neck how the end is finally here.

But–

When you’re looking at him sip honey citrus tea buried under your throw blanket with his legs draped over yours, you can’t help but think how you wouldn’t mind putting up with this every now and then. But, you know that would be nearly impossible.

You fidget with the edge of the quilt fabric as he catches your wandering stare.

“What is it?”

You hum, pick at the pattern, and then shrug, “You look properly domesticated.”

The corners of his mouth quirk up and you think he’s going to refute the statement venomously. But then he pauses and you think he’s about to say something corny. You’re not sure which makes your stomach churn more, but you watch him and how his dark eyes seem to be taking you in all at once.

After a beat of silence, he turns to you, eyes flicking to yours like you have an unspoken understanding of the timeline and depth of your relationship.

He gently flicks the tip of your chin again, grinning like a devil: “Best not to get used to it.”

Crowds will have to suffice.

You brush his hand over the blanket, “I won’t.”

#matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #the 1975 #the 1975 imagines #yeah.............#anyway #*my writing

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dulltoned · 4 months

Text

Floyd was curled up in bed cuddled into his lilac sweater, sat up against the headboard wrapped in a cozy pink quilt. This sweater was quickly becoming one of his favorite things. Poppy's gifts were always well-made and soft to the touch but one of these days Floyd was going to insist she stop giving him things. For the moment, however, he was more than content to swaddle himself in the small comforts. He's been holed up in his room most of the day, excluding the one time he left to go make himself a cup of tea, but it's not a bad day by any means. He feels great, all things considered, with only a nearly imperceptible weakness in his limbs and a vague chill burrowed into his bones. It's a good day to be nestled into his blankets with a nice book.

A firm knock at his door gets his attention and a quick glance at the clock mounted on the wall tells him it's half past noon. Oh, he's been holed up in here much longer than he'd thought. He puts his book aside and climbs out of bed, allowing himself a few extra seconds to stretch, and goes to open the door. John Dory is on the other side, his usual self-satisfied grin nowhere to be seen and a worry in his eyes that immediately puts Floyd on edge. "BroZone meeting," John says it so seriously that Floyd can't even find it in himself to roll his eyes at the phrasing.

"What's going on?" Floyd doesn't wait to ask as he follows John out into the bunker. It's weird to see his eldest brother so noticeably thrown off. John Dory wasn't one to wear his more uncomfortable emotions on his face where the world could see them.

John Dory doesn't answer, instead ushering Floyd over to the elevator. "The others are already in the kitchen," He half-explains, pulling Floyd up onto the platform and pushing up the lever at the same time. "It's Branch." That's all it takes to make Floyd's anxiety skyrocket. Branch? Branch was pretty reserved and he's been a little tense the past few days but he seemed okay. Did something terrible happen? Is he okay? Branch was so independent. What could have happened that John Dory called them all together with such grave intensity? John Dory was dramatic but it's never caused unwarranted worry before.

Floyd fidgets with his paws while they silently ride the elevator up, brows furrowed in thought while he stews in the worry rising in his chest. He clearly wasn't as in tune with Branch as he thought he was despite the one-on-one time they spent together most mornings. The elevator comes to a stop and Floyd is the first one off the platform. He moves swiftly past John Dory and rushes into the kitchen to find his other brothers, excluding Branch, already sitting around the kitchen table with matching expressions of concern on their faces. Great. "Do any of you have any idea what's going on?"

"No," Bruce shakes his head, "John just showed up all out of sorts so we figured it was serious." Clay nods along, gesturing to Bruce in a show of agreement.

"Because it is serious," John Dory insists as he steps into the kitchen after Floyd, circling around to stand at the table. "There's something wrong with Bitty B." He swears. Floyd is hoping that this is another game of the Troll who cried Bergen. John could blow things out of proportion sometimes and Floyd would prefer that to something being actually wrong. "He nearly bit my head off thirty minutes ago." Oh, okay. Maybe this actually wasn't so bad.

"I think before we go overboard here you should tell us what you did." Bruce cuts in, watching John warily. No one was willing to outright dismiss their eldest brother but it was hard not to take this with a grain of salt. Branch was snappy. He didn't like to be pushed and his boundaries weren't all out there yet so it was easy for one of them to overstep, John Dory especially. John was never one to stop his pestering, even when there were clear signs that he was pushing too hard.

"Nothing!" John throws his hands into the air and his tone turns exasperated. Floyd rolls his eyes fondly and crosses his arms, silently urging John Dory to continue. "He came home with this cute little picnic packed up and I asked him if it was for Poppy." Floyd waits for more but it becomes clear that there wasn't anything else John Dory had to add.

"That's it?" Clay presses in disbelief.

"That's it!" John nods quickly, leaning against one of the chairs and gesticulating with his gloved hand, "He looked at me and I swear he was about to break into tears right there. I tried to ask him what was wrong and he snapped at me to leave him the hell alone." He looks at them expectantly, eyebrows raised while he waits for them to admit defeat.

"That… sounds rough, actually." Clay is the first to break, the concerned crease between his brows returning with a vengeance. "Did you get anything out of him?" John offers a dejected shake of his head and they all share a collective sigh. Of course not. It was wishful thinking to assume that Branch would willingly open himself up to them, let alone when he was clearly already in distress.

"I doubt he's gonna wanna talk about it guys," Floyd reminds them softly, smiling sadly when they all turn to look at him. "He's not really open on a good day and I don't think forcing him to talk about whatever's going on is gonna make it better." It's not like the rest of them were getting together to share their feelings or anything but sentimental conversations sparked up naturally between the four older brothers. Branch seemed to actively avoid them and usually fled when things got too emotional for him. They've all had their moments with their youngest sibling, sure, but it was also obvious to all of them that Branch had been uncomfortable. Floyd doubts that whatever this is about is something Branch will want to share during a cuddle pile on the couch.

"Yeah, but haven't you noticed how tense he is all the time?" John Dory retorts. Honestly, out of all of them, Floyd half-expected John to be the least aware of Branch. Not in a particularly bad way, no, but the teal troll wasn't known for being the most observant when they were kids. It was hard to remember that maybe the last twenty years changed them all a lot more than Floyd initially thought. "Clearly whatever's going on with him isn't getting better on its own and we can't just sit here and wait for him to break down."

"Of course not," Bruce assures readily. He has a thoughtful expression on his face and Floyd really hopes that whatever he's thinking could help them figure out what to do. "Floyd is right, though, we can't pry it out of him. We'll only make it worse if we do that." They share a few more silent looks around the table and a familiar feeling of helplessness is starting to stir in Floyd. He can't help but remember the little blue trolling that he could pick up and settle on his lap. Back then Branch was so easy to cheer up, all it took was a quick little song or a fun story to distract the baby from his woes. Now Floyd doesn't even know where to start. He doesn't know what Branch has been through or how to comfort him. He doesn't even know how to approach it if Branch is having a rough time.

"I think he'd more likely shut down than open up if we try to force it out of him," Clay sighs, folding his arms on top of the table. They all murmur their agreement. If it were any other situation Floyd would be amused at the sight of them all huddled up around the kitchen trying to figure out what made their baby brother cry. The horrifying thought is that he can't imagine what could make Branch cry. Branch was a tough cookie but John Dory was right, Branch has been on edge from the moment they stepped foot in his bunker. There were times when the tension let up and Branch enjoyed himself but there was always wariness in his eyes. Floyd had really hoped that it would ease up on its own as they all got used to being around each other again. He's saddened to see that apparently it's only built up until Branch couldn't carry it anymore. It needed to be addressed, that was certain, but they were all stumped on how to go about it. "We need a plan. At least an outline on how to start." Floyd was really glad to have more than one plan-oriented brother right now. It feels wrong to conspire against Branch like this but it feels worse to just let his little brother keep hurting the way he clearly has been.

"I think the best approach is to test the waters first," Floyd steps further into the room, finally pulling out a chair and taking a seat at the table, "We need to make sure that he's receptive before we move forward with whatever we're gonna do." His brothers nod but John Dory looks a little unsure.

"Are we sure he'll ever be receptive?" John Dory brings up a painfully good point, looking between his brothers with earnest uncertainty. It's clear that John's desire to push comes from a place of real concern but that didn't mean it couldn't cause problems. It was important to stop him in his tracks before he got too far. Pushing Branch only ever led to the divide between them growing.

Bruce clears his throat, looking sorrowful when he speaks, "I think there's a decent chance that he won't talk to us." Floyd frowns, averting his gaze at the reminder. It was a fair thought, really. What right did they have to assume that they could just pop back into Branch's life and be part of his support system? The only person Floyd had ever seen Branch be actually vulnerable with was Poppy and that was only a few brief glimpses of soft moments meant for just the two of them.

"If push comes to shove we might just need to recruit Poppy and hope she can get it out of him." Floyd agrees with a sigh. His eyes are a little misty at the thought of being so useless when it comes to helping the people closest to him but he knows that he couldn't just insert himself back into Branch's life like that. If what he needs to do is rat his brother out to his girlfriend then that'll have to be enough.

"Well--" John cuts himself off and his ears perk. Floyd frowns and shares a confused look with Clay before he tries to listen for whatever caught John Dory's attention. For a moment there's nothing and he opens his mouth to ask what the oldest had heard but then he hears it. Footsteps. They're carefully tiptoeing up the stairs toward the kitchen and there was only one troll they could belong to. Floyd looks to Bruce and then Clay but his siblings look just as startled as he is. Obviously Branch hadn't heard them, right? There was no way he would be coming up here if he heard them talking about him, right?

The footsteps are only getting closer the more they sit in silence and Floyd gestures in quiet panic to the back hallway. What are we gonna say? He tries to convey in his sharp movements. They hadn't gotten anywhere besides acknowledging that Branch would want nothing to do with this conversation but if Branch had been on the verge of tears only a mere hour ago it would probably be hard to ignore.

John Dory blinks and gestures to himself, the how am I supposed to know? is easy to pick up.

Clay jerks his head towards the back hallway in obvious warning that Branch is nearly there and tries to lean casually against the table so it looks like they haven't been panicking over the dumbest thing. They all scramble to follow Clay's lead and only just manage to get themselves settled before Branch appears around the corner. Their youngest brother stops in his tracks the second he notices that the kitchen is more occupied than he thought. Floyd watches as a flurry of emotions flits across Branch's face; anger, yearning, fear--

"Hey B," John Dory greets with an awkward wave that cuts through the silence.

"Hey," Branch grunts, moving further into the room. He very intentionally keeps his eyes straight ahead as he steps over to the counter and reaches up to get a cup from the cabinets.

Floyd shares a determined look with Bruce before he turns his attention back to Branch. "Are you doing okay?" He decides that the best approach would be a direct one. Beating around the bush with Branch only ever leads to confusion or irritation and Floyd doesn't want to risk blowing anything out of proportion. He just wants to help.

Branch only offers a noncommittal hum and slams his cup down harder than necessary. Floyd can see his grip is so tight his hand is shaking. Not a great start but he hasn't exactly shut them down yet either. They should proceed with caution but Floyd would try to keep an eye on Branch's reactions so he can help calm things down if he needed to. He wants to avoid causing any more problems and he doesn't want to hurt Branch in their quest to figure him out.

"It's just that you've been pretty tense recently," Bruce pipes up, testing the waters with more awareness and care than Floyd would have expected from him. Being a parent had really changed his brother in a lot of really amazing ways. It's nice to see someone else in their family is experienced in the gentle approach now. "We were wondering if we could do anything to help."

Branch keeps his back towards them but the kitchen is small and Floyd is sitting at the end of the table. He can see the side of Branch's face even if it's still mostly obscured and he can see how his little brother clenches his jaw and takes a calming breath. "I'm fine," Branch says after a long stretch of silence. His voice is toneless and strained and Floyd can't help but cringe.

"It's just that you were pretty pissed earlier," John starts. He looks like he's about to make a joke but he thinks better of it. Instead, he sighs and straightens out his goggles absentmindedly. "We're just worried. It doesn't seem like you're doing alright." That was surprisingly heartfelt coming from John Dory. He's sincere and quiet and the worry seeps into his words.

Branch sighs and braces his hands against the counter, hanging his head and leaving his cup forgotten beside him. Floyd's gut twists and his heart thumps anxiously in his chest. He's seen Branch uneasy and uncomfortable and upset, he's seen Branch happy and shy and lovesick, but he's never seen Branch look so genuinely defeated. "Branch?" He presses softly, "Are you okay?" He echoes his earlier question and watches as Branch deflates.

Branch doesn't know how to handle this. He didn't really expect John Dory to follow up and he definitely hadn't been prepared for all of his brothers to confront him together. He hates listening to them like this. They sound so worried and he has no idea what to do. The mask slipped and he lost his temper and it seems like it wasn't something he could just sweep under the rug this time. He holds the counter in an iron grip and allows his weight to lean further and further into the edge. How the hell is he supposed to answer that? How does he explain to his brothers that he can't remember the last time he could genuinely and sincerely say he was doing great and that okay felt like a few and far between? "Does it matter?" He mumbles in lieu of a real answer.

There's a sharp inhale behind him and Branch flinches at the sound. Great. He hadn't meant to sound so dismissive but he couldn't take it back now. He's just so tired. He's exhausted, both from the nightmares keeping him up night after night and from the turmoil that seemed to constantly rage inside of him. He feels like he's just been coasting through the days, letting everything build up until it all inevitably came to a head. He was a fool to think he could escape the consequences. He knew better than to think it would all just even out and go away but he had hoped. He let himself and hope and look where it got him. How stupid could he be?

"Of course it matters, bro," Clay soothes quietly. There's a tension in the air that was only getting thicker and Branch wonders if the others could feel it too. "We wanna know if you're alright."

"Do you?" Branch asks bitterly. He hadn't meant to say it but it feels useless to hold his tongue now. He's kept it all inside for too long and it's drained him completely. He's hollow in a way that's terrifyingly familiar, a frightening reminder of how he lived for almost two decades of his life, and he's so sick of it. He wants to feel okay again and he can't keep burying it all deep down. It's twisting him up inside and leaving him with a painfully short fuse and he can't do this anymore.

"Of course we do!" John Dory sounds offended at the mere thought that Branch could possibly think otherwise and that's not fair. He doesn't get to be hurt that Branch doubts them. He has no right. Branch grits his teeth and his eyes are burning again and damn it he's getting worked up again--

"Since when!" Branch snaps, ripping his hands away from the counter and whirling around to glare daggers at his family. His family. The family who left him and came back only because they needed him. Would they have ever come back at all if he wasn't a necessary part of helping Floyd? "You all left. You left me alone and I had no one for most of my life!" He's screaming now. He's screaming and his eyes are burning but he doesn't think he has any energy left to care. "Grandma died and I spent twenty years being the outcast of the village and then you all just come back and assume that things are okay? That I'm okay?" Branch slams his hands against his chest in a wild gesture to himself and lets out a desperate, almost hysterical laugh. His brothers are staring at him with wide-eyed expressions of shock and he should really stop before he does something that will be irreparable but now that he's started he doesn't think he can stop. "No, I'm not okay! I haven't been okay in a long time! I'm trying really, really hard to hold myself together but sometimes I'm so pissed at all of you I don't know what to do with myself. Sometimes I can't even fucking look at any of you because it hurts. You can't expect me to think that all of you care about how I feel when all of you walked out on me and didn't even look back!"

Branch realizes that he should calm down. His chest is heaving with each breath but he's never let any of this out before and the release is addicting. He's fruitlessly blinking back the tears quickly filling his eyes and beneath all the anger and pain he feels guilt for putting those devastated expressions on his brothers' faces but he can't seem to reel himself in. "Did I ever even matter to any of you?" He asks, scrubbing a frantic hand across his face to wipe away the tears when they start to fall. "The only person who even said goodbye was Floyd, the only person who cared was Floyd. If you didn't need me would you have ever come back?" The guilty look on John's face is enough of an answer for him.

He runs his hands through his hair and grits his teeth against the sob bubbling up in his throat. He's realizing that maybe he didn't really put himself together as well as he thought back in his room and he might be having a breakdown in front of his brothers. The realization isn't enough to stop it from happening. He's already lost himself to the panic and desperation curling up beneath his ribs. His hands were shaking and his chest was getting tight but he knew from experience that he couldn't stop this now that it's started and he could already feel the humiliation starting to bloom on top of it all.

"Branch," Floyd gets his attention. Somewhere along the line the other troll had stood up from the table and took a few cautious steps closer, hands held up to show he meant no harm. "Breathe, buddy, come on." Branch instinctively tries to take a breath at the gentle coaxing but the air gets caught in his throat. Floyd only offers an encouraging smile and nods for him to try again.

Branch stutters through the first few breaths, leaning heavily back against the counter and wrapping his arms tightly around himself in a pathetic attempt to physically hold himself together. Floyd doesn't push him and the others watch on in curious silence. They look at Branch with such sad eyes and Branch wants to be angry but he can't. He's too tired to be angry anymore. He's burnt out. He breathes with Floyd's kind encouragements urging him to keep going and slowly but surely he calms down enough to force the stiffness out of his legs and drop unceremoniously to the floor. He ignores the startled cries around him and tugs his legs up to his chest, burying his face into his knees to hide the tears shamefully coating his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he breathes. He can't believe he just yelled at them like that. He'll be lucky if they even want to stay with him after this.

"Hey, Branch, look at me," Branch lifts his head to see Bruce kneeling on the floor beside him. Bruce still gave him plenty of room, staying a few feet away to avoid crowding him, and Branch felt a brief spark of gratitude at the consideration, "I think you had the right to blow up at us. You've been holding all that in for a while, huh? And none of us ever really brought it up. I guess we all just assumed that it was water under the bridge." Bruce has the decency to look sheepish at the admission. Branch huffs and tries again to wipe away his tears. It's a losing battle, the tears are still falling, but he feels like he has to try all the same.

"I think we're the ones who should be sorry," Clay sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, "I don't think any of us wanted to admit that we messed up. It wasn't cool of us to leave you behind and then just assume that everything would be fine. I'm sorry, Branch." The apology is unexpected. Branch thinks that maybe it shouldn't be but it still comes as a shock to him.

"You already apologized," Branch reminds him.

"I'm not apologizing for missing out on you growing up," Clay disagrees, shaking his head and offering a sad smile, "I'm apologizing because I walked out and because I never came back. It hurt you a lot, the least I can do is acknowledge that." Oh. A lump forms in Branch's throat and the tears pick up speed. He feels ridiculous and childish curled up on the kitchen floor with his brothers huddled around him offering comforting words but he can't deny that a part of him feels hopeful too. Hope was a terrifying, disappointing thing but it led him to Poppy so maybe… maybe he could try to see where this goes too.

"Thanks," Branch sniffs, wrapping his arms around his legs and drawing them closer to his chest.

"The least any of us could do is acknowledge it," John Dory steps away from the table and comes around to kneel beside Bruce, "I'm sorry I left, Branch. I could give you a million different reasons but at the end of the day none of them really matter, do they?" John Dory offers a bitter laugh, meeting Branch's gaze with sad eyes, "It wasn't fair to you and I never should've just walked back into your life like it never happened. I'm glad Poppy convinced you to come along but I should've said this all then. That's my fault, Bitty B. After everything we put you through you have every right to be angry." That's the most mature John has ever been, Branch thinks. At least with him. No condescension, no punchline. Just a sincere and heartfelt apology.

"I think that's the most serious I've ever heard you," Floyd playfully teases from Branch's other side and Branch notices that Floyd lowered himself down to the floor too. Clay is already walking over to sit beside the pink-haired troll, completing their messy half-circle.

"Shut up," John Dory laughs, picking up a loose rock tucked under the door of a cabinet and flicking it over at Floyd.

"Seriously, though, Branch. You aren't the one who should apologize. It's us." Floyd assures warmly, the same sad smile on his face but it's fond now too. "I'm sorry that you felt you had to keep this in. I know we haven't been the best brothers in the world but you can talk to us. You've been there for us," Floyd looks around at the others and Branch watches as they all nod in eager agreement. "Let us be there for you, okay?"

Branch frowns. As good as that sounds he doesn't like vulnerability. He's very intentionally kept to himself for a long, long time and the idea of relying on someone else was still very new to him. He's learned that nothing is certain in life and that everything good could be gone in a moment. The only thing he could rely on was himself. He knows this. But Poppy's taught him that even though good things might be fleeting they're also wonderful. Poppy came into his life and brought with her a happiness that's evaded him since he was just a trolling and now he can't imagine living without her. What would he be denying himself if he decided that this was too good to be true? He missed his brothers so much all these years and they're here now because they care about him more than he ever could have hoped for. "Okay." Branch decides before he can overthink it. He wants this so badly he can allow himself to take the risk. If everything collapses and it all fails he knows that at least he'll have Poppy with him in the aftermath.

His brothers sag a little with relief. Bruce claps a hand on John Dory's shoulder and Clay slings a celebratory arm around Floyd's shoulders. Floyd's expression softens, "Thanks, Branch. I know that this sucks but we won't let you down." Branch huffs an amused breath but lets a shaky grin form in response.

"So what's been going on?" John Dory asks as he shifts into a more comfortable position, crossing his legs beneath him and giving Branch his full attention. It's equally overwhelming and appreciated.

"Nothing," Floyd and Bruce give him matching stern looks. Branch rolls his eyes but concedes, "Really, it's nothing. I've just been having nightmares again recently and it's made me more on edge than usual." He pointedly ignores Clay mouthing again? at their brothers and focuses his eyes instead on the dirt floor. He sighs and buries his face into his knees again, "I'm supposed to be normal now."

"What do you mean?" Bruce asks with genuine confusion. Branch can't help but offer a resentful snort. Right, like Branch was the epitome of normal when it came to trolls. "You only need to be you, Branch." That catches Branch off guard and he peeks over at Bruce with a doubtful expression. Bruce only smiles, "I'm serious. I remember what you said to Viva back at that golf course you know. I'm sure you've spent a lot of time in this bunker and I know that Poppy of yours invites you to all sorts of things but no one wants you to be something you're not. You don't need to be like everyone else. We don't want you to be like everyone else." That's an angle that Branch hadn't really considered before. Branch often entertained the idea that Poppy invited him to so many parties and events because she wanted him to be more like a regular pop troll. Despite the fact that Poppy's always respected his boundaries he has an underlying fear that she wants him to change but she's even walked him home before when a party proved to be too much for him.

"Oh." Branch murmurs, still uncertain.

"You're weird," John cuts in and startles at the resulting incredulous shouts of his name. He raises his hands in surrender, "But that's what makes you you. We wouldn't love you if you weren't you, kid."

"Not a kid," Branch grumbles more on instinct than anything. He sighs, reaching up and tangling his hands in his hair, "But trolls are supposed to be fun. I'm not fun. I don't like big parties and too many sweets make me sick and I prioritize safety over entertainment--"

"You don't need to be fun all the time," Clay cuts him off before Branch can start spiraling again. Branch huffs and Clay shrugs apologetically. "You don't have to have fun all the time. Everybody needs their downtime and if you need more quiet time than the next troll that doesn't make you defective." Clay reaches out, telegraphing his movements carefully so Branch has plenty of time to pull away, and carefully untangles Branch's paws from his hair. "Besides, you're plenty of fun. I have a great time whenever we talk about the layout of this place and your organization system."

"Nerds," Bruce coughs into his fist.

"The point is," Floyd rolls his eyes but he looks happy. "Fun or no fun, quiet or loud, there's nothing wrong with being different. No one should ever force you to be someone you're not, and we don't want you to be anyone else." Branch feels a hesitant burst of warmth struggling to form beneath the uncertainty wriggling in his gut. The hope is growing with each passing moment but he's still scared of what it could lead to. He's been disappointed so many times.

Branch shakes his head, "It's not enough." He disagrees. There were plenty of trolls in the village that were still on the fence about him. He's seen the weird looks he gets sometimes when he's in town and the disapproval when he's with Poppy. No one is vocal about it and most of the village has been open to him being a part of the community but that doesn't erase the years of him being the outcast party-pooper. "I'm not enough."

"You're perfect." Branch's head snaps up and he stares at John Dory in disbelief. John Dory said it so vehemently and his face his set in a stern expression. The small, wounded part of Branch that always believed that he was the reason the band disbanded is squirming beneath his skin.

"What?" Branch breathes, laughing awkwardly at what he assumed had to be a joke.

"You're perfect, Branch. Never, and I mean never, imply that you're anything less than that again." John seems almost angry but Branch has to be imagining that. He looks genuinely upset at the idea that Branch could possibly think so little of himself but that seems unlikely. "Branch you have two seconds to tell me no before I touch you," Oh, what? That's a weird sentence-- but suddenly his face is cupped in John Dory's hands and his focus zeroes in on his brother. "You are amazing. You're a little rough around the edges but so is everyone. This past month you've been nothing but accommodating to us. You dug us out whole rooms in your home just because you wanted us to stay with you, that's crazy. You're dedicated, brilliant, and even kind under all that sharp wit. You are way more than just enough, little brother, you're perfect." Branch blinks stupidly up at John Dory and a few more tears tumble down his cheeks. John smiles sadly as he brushes them away with a few gentle strokes of his thumbs.

Branch sniffs pitifully and pulls away, scrubbing at his eyes with a startled laugh, "Jeez, isn't Floyd supposed to be the sensitive one?" He tries to joke but it comes out strained and teary. They all chuckle anyway and Branch is grateful that they're giving him a moment to try and compose himself. "I'm still sorry I yelled." He admits after a few beats.

"Psh, it's fine," Bruce waves him off easily. "You clearly needed to get some stuff out. What else is family for?" He assures lightheartedly.

"I know it's not hug time, but can we hug you?" Floyd asks. Branch moves to say no on instinct but Floyd is looking at him with pleading eyes and Branch honestly thinks that he could use one too.

"Fine, I guess," He grumbles and Floyd doesn't hesitate to swoop in and gather him up. The others don't take long to follow his lead. It's only a few seconds before Branch finds himself at the center of a cuddle pile. There are elbows jabbed into his side and someone's hair is tickling his nose but somehow he can't remember the last time he felt so safe and comfortable. "Thank you." He whispers into the bundle of warmth and support surrounding him.

"We'll always be here for you, okay?" Floyd says.

"Okay." Branch replies and finally lets the hope win.

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cherri-berries-playplace · 4 months

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Would you be able to make a Moodboard (or Headcannons if you'd like?) of Caregiver Price with Regressor Gaz? Maybe with cozy/sleepy themes??

Sure thing! Tysm for requesting :) I hope you enjoy! （‐＾▽＾‐）

*:..｡💤 *:..｡🧸 *:..｡💤*:..｡🧸 *

Caregiver Price & Regressor Gaz Agere moodboard with cozy/sleepy themes for anon ⡱(᎑ ᎑).zzZ

🌘Headcanons🌒

🛏Price's room is always so comforting, small warm lights cast a perfect glow across his room. Price has always got a candle of some sort going to make it smell nice as well, a very comforting aspect to the space.

🧸In the corner of his room, Price keeps a basket full of Gaz's plushies and pillows. Storing them away until Gaz wants em again and Price would happily let his little one dig through the basket all excited.

🤎Gaz always gets to pick out the blankets the two share, Price offering weighted/larger quilts for Gaz to choose from when it starts to get chilly.

🛌On very sleepy low days, Price and Gaz lay in bed all snuggled up to each other while a soft lullaby plays.

🧸Gaz who brings fidget toys, teethers, and plushies into bed to play with while Price sits beside him finishing up paperwork. Often Price will look over to Gaz with a smile, patting him on the head and reassuring him. :)

🤎Price who get's a cranky Gaz to calm down by laying with him, giving a little Gaz a bottle with warm milk and then a pacifier for Gaz to rest with.

Moodboard made with Picsart! ☆

Click moodboard for better quality! <3

Requests: Open!

Dividers by: @saradika

#safe agere #age regression #agere #agere moodboard #agere headcanons #fandom agere #cod agere #call of duty agere #moodboard #headcanons #requests #cg price

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sailor-aviator · 6 months

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Til the Summer Comes Again Teaser

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

"I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, 'Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.'" — Lewis Carrol

Summary: Bob was a winter spirit who loved what he did. He loved making individual snowflakes. He loved the way the snow sparkled in the winter sun. He loved the laughter his creations brought to people around the world. What he didn't expect, was to fall in love with a human girl from a small town. He has until the summer comes again for her to reciprocate his feelings if he wants to remain on earth, but will the shadows that haunt her get in the way of happily ever after? (JackFrost! AU)

Series CW: Magic, Winter Sprites, Past Trauma, Talks of Death, Winter Themes, Demon-like Entities, Violence, Torture, Sacrifice, Angst, Fluff, Romance, Eventual Smut, Age Gap (Bob is centuries old). Think that about covers it. Chapters will have individual warnings.

A/N: Here is the project I'm most excited for!! As always with the teasers, this scene and subject matter may change once I actually get around to writing it. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are encouraged and appreciated! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I will be updating my fics as well!

Masterlist || Robert "Bob" Floyd Tag List

"It's going to sound dumb," you mumbled, a blush creeping its way onto your cheeks. Bob didn't think he'd ever get tired of the site. Warmth was such a new concept to him, and he was addicted to the way it radiated off of you.

"Humor me," he murmured, reaching his hand out to brush the hair out of your face. You smiled sheepishly at him, shifting in your spot on the couch.

"Well," you began, fingers fidgeting in your lap, "The nightmares started a few years ago. They weren't anything horrible at first, but recently they've just been getting worse and worse."

"Worse how?"

"Like," you hesitated, "like they seem so real now. Like the shadows that chase me might actually hurt me."

"Shadows?" Bob questioned, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

You nodded. "Yeah. They were just flashes in the beginning, but now there's a man who seems like he's made of shadows himself. He watches me, always appearing no matter how far I run."

You paused, chewing on your bottom lip.

"He scares me," you admitted quietly. Bob felt anger swell up from the very depths of his being. He had a pretty good idea of who or what it was that tormented you, and he swore to himself that he wouldn't rest until you were safe.

"I don't know what this means," you continued. "I'm not even sure it means anything, but..."

You pulled back the sleeve of your sweater to reveal a large, dark bruise in the shape of a handprint. Bob saw red, the lid on his temper barely holding. Your fingertips ran lightly over the mark.

"This appeared the morning after you left," you frowned. "He was so angry in my dream, and he just grabbed me."

The hold snapped, and a gust of frigid wind raced through the room, the glass on the coffee table freezing before shattering. You jumped with a yelp, staring at what was left of the glass. You scrambled to clean it up, and Bob felt the unforgiving power of ice flow through him as he tried desperately to control his breathing. How dare he lay a hand on you.

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fidgetquiltsandmore · 2 years

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Cat-themed fidget quilt for people with Alzheimer's disease, advanced dementia, ADHD, and stroke

Cat-themed fidget quilt for people with Alzheimer’s disease, advanced dementia, ADHD, and stroke

Cat-themed fidget quilt Fidget quilts/busy blankets/activity blankets for Alzheimer, advanced Dementia, stroke, and ADHD educational digital act. → buy merch This Fidget Quilt or Activity Blanket is a lap quilt that provides sensory and tactile stimulation for the restless hands of someone with Alzheimer’s, other forms of Dementia, Autism, or people who experienced a stroke. The quilt is made…

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#activity blanket #busy blanket #fidget blanket for stroke patients #fidget quilt for advanced Dementia #fidget quilt for Alzheimer #fidgets for seniors #nursing home gifts #restlessness therapy #sensory stimulation blanket

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vulturereyy · 1 month

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Hello Flight Rising Nation I have officially fallen victim to the dragon site and I now have an account :)

I'm just getting started but I will be working towards making plushie dragons, with my dream ones being the two below <3

Meet The Seamstress!

Quite a long while ago, a young wizard just kicked out of magic academy found themselves in desperate need of company. Their only companion was a very rag-tag old plushie that they'd had since their hatchling days, and in an effort to apply their skill, they decided to try and animate their own familiar -- and succeeded! (much to their own surprise).

The Seamstress was her wizard's beloved companion of many years, eventually joined by other familiars said wizard chose to animate- her best friend being Fidget, an articulated dragon toy. Together with her creator, Seamstress helped to make the dilapidated tower they settled in a cozy home. She loved to assist said wizard in daily tasks, and was especially fond of being a book-finder for them, trotting about the grand library and returning with one book at a time.

Eventually, the wizard found themselves in old age and at peace with the life they had led. They passed on peacefully in their dreams, and in doing so, bequeathed their tower, magic, and legacy on to their dearest companion - The Seamstress herself.

Finding herself imbued with her old creator's magic, The Seamstress strove to make a safe home within the tower for all the familiars within it. And when she found herself feeling horribly lonely as the only soft toy familiar, she pulled out an encyclopedia of dragon species, tore down some of the wizard's old cloaks, and wrangled up some of the more sapient familiars to come together... and begin the monumental task of figuring out how to work a sewing machine.

The Seamstress is the creator and unofficial leader of the Agate Wizard's Tower's band of familiars. Over the years she's made a sizeable amount of plush dragons to befriend (even if to the detriment of the wizard's old wardrobe, curtains, and pillows) and together they live in (relative) peace in their secluded little tower :>

Oc-wise, I also have (Drumroll please).... STUFFING!

Stuffing is among the newest of the familiars, made in the image of a hatchling to better conserve on the gang's dwindling fabric supplies. She's easily exciteable, overly curious, and not too bright at the moment-- but she's all heart inside her cotton-wool chest, and she wears it proudly on her sleeve.

Of all the familiars created by the Seamstress, Stuffing is the only one that has taken a very keen interest in her work. Unbeknownst to the rest of the familiars, The Seamstress has been finding herself at peace, just as their wizard was-- and after centuries of living and creation, wishes to pass on her mantle to another. Stuffing is currently her first and only apprentice... And, she hopes, eventually her successor.

Toy Dragons in my clan are -- I guess an open concept? Feel free to make one, though I ask that you tag me so I can see! :) My general rules for them are:

The Seamstress is the oldest of them, and the creator of all of them

Stitched primary gene

The largest among them is only about 3ft tall. Guards are usually the biggest. More recent toy familiars are usually smaller, given dwindling fabric supplies.

Naming conventions usually follow sewing, knitting, crochet, or quilting terminology (i.e. Spindle, Spool, Thread, Thimble, Yarn, etc) But also can be anything.

Most toy familiars have a crystal, jewelry piece, or trinket inside their stuffing that acts as their 'heart.'

toy familiars must periodically imbue their heart with magic by eating or absorbing magic from spells, enchanted items, or other sources, to keep themselves animated. If they lose their magic, they will fall into a stasis-like hibernation, but retain all of their memories when they are awakened.

General materials include linen, velvet, cotton, silk, with wool, cotton, or down stuffing. Pebbles occasionally added for weight upon familiar's request.

As toy familiars don't hatch, typically what happens is an existing familiar goes to The Seamstress and is like 'i would like a baby/little sibling/friend' The Seamstress then helps them create a blank little 'first body' and animates it for them. As the new familiar grows into its personality, decides what it wants, and can communicate those wants, it and its parent/sibling/whatever will build it a new body to animate together, to its liking. The Seamstress then helps them transfer to this new body with her spells. As the new familiar wishes to grow, they can add more fabric onto themselves and shape themselves to their liking -- though this practice has recently become frowned upon given the lack of supplies.

Toy familiars are welcome to leave the tower for their own adventures as well!

I feel silly typing all this but I have been having fun. I will work towards building my perfect toy army <3

#flight rising #fr dragon share #fr #flight rising dragons #fr obelisk #fr aether

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pouralaura · 6 days

Text

hold your applause

hb @potatocrisp! a little zarraphael snack today for everybody yum yum

tags: semi-public teasing, dirty talk, stockings

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There are stageplays, sure; and then there's this, thinks Zarra with great distaste.

Baldur's Gate, as one of the largest and most famed cities on the Sword Coast, really ought to have a better avenue for community theatre -- because this lackluster rendition of Seven Swords Snarlclash certainly isn't cutting it. This bard is no stage actress, but she absolutely knows a poorly executed performance when she sees one. So far, at least two of the seven titular adventurers have forgotten lines, the costumes are terribly ill-fitting, and the musical numbers have been entirely off-key.

Raphael is reclined slightly in his seat next to her, an arm casually draped over the back of her chair. Zarra had said please more nicely than usual and batted her eyelashes at him this morning when they'd run into one another at the Elfsong for the third time that week; please let's get pastries and then there's a matinee performance of something-or-other happening in the park; fine, but you owe me, little mouse; how's about the best dick-sucking of your life, old man; why yes that will do nicely hells hells godsdamned hells just like that ahhh is this a broom closet?? ahh ffffuck, etc.

Despite the overwhelming success of the initial plea, it's not turned into a great date (if one could even call it a date, and neither of them will, so Zarra supposes the point is moot), but the little bard is far too proud to admit that this was a suggestion which she now regrets.

Which means...she'll have to suffer through it. But there are other things she can entertain herself with.

She presses her thigh more firmly against Raphael's. Nudges him. Surely he's not enjoying this any more than she is --

"What?" he hisses, but there's no real malice in it. "Pay attention."

"To this?"

"Are you not the one who insisted we support local art? And are you not the one who continues to do so incessantly, as a vocation?"

"Yeah, if it's good art."

"And precisely what about this charming production," Raphael whispers dryly, "does not meet that standard?"

She knows he's being sarcastic, but still she rolls her eyes and slouches in her seat, idly tracing a pattern on the devil's knee with her fingertips as she returns her attention to the stage.

But it's fleeting. She's bored, and they're in a fairly secluded spot near the back of the audience...and Raphael is warm, as always. Hot, even. It's distracting enough. What's the harm, thinks Zarra, and slides that fidgeting hand up her lover's thigh with a burgeoning grin --

-- only to find him fully and staggeringly erect beneath the quilted fabric of his trousers.

To his credit, he doesn't even flinch.

"Are you seriously hard right now?"

(It's not like it's too much of a surprise; when he's in the mood, the devil will unabashedly pop a boner if he catches a whiff of her hair, or if she sneezes a little weird. But, gods, it's funny each and every time. And arousing -- she'll never turn down a chance to be reminded of his dick. It's very nice.)

Zarra can't tell if his expression is a smirk or a sneer without turning to face him and drawing attention to them back here.

"If I'm to be honest, little mouse," Raphael murmurs in a hushed whisper, "this has been the state of things for some time."

Again -- predictable, but certainly not unwelcome. Most definitely more interesting than the theatrical debacle in front of them.

"How long, exactly?" Sugary-sweet, she's making fun of him. She knows he doesn't mind.

In fact, Zarra can almost hear him smile. Shivers when hot fingers worm themselves underneath the heavy fur collar of her coat to stroke her bare shoulder. Tit for tat, she supposes, leaving her hand exactly where it is in his lap as he shifts, tilting his face toward her temple so that she can feel his hot breath on her ear. Wily man, turning this situation into something he can use. Typical.

Not that she's complaining. The hot thrum of his voice always makes her feel pleasantly unsteady; it's a good thing she's sitting down.

"I find it difficult to concentrate on such a spectacle when I can feel the warm press of your thigh against mine." He leans into her further and she feels the maddening tickle of the tip of his elegant, crooked nose on her neck beneath her ear. "Impossible not to imagine lying betwixt them, spent and satisfied and smelling of sweet sex." His s's are elongated hisses now that he's deigned to play with her, punctuated prettily in his smooth low baritone.

"Oh?" Zarra breathes, fixing her eyes on the sorry twat currently delivering an overzealous monologue in the center of the stage as she brushes her thumb lightly over Raphael's clothed cock. "Do go on, darling."

"Watching your pretty little breasts heave as I drag my wicked tongue up the soft skin right here --" he rests two fingers on her inner thigh, just above the band of her stockings, and traces them upward a short distance. "Bite down, bruise you in dark blue, make you gasp for me, sweet mouse."

That's more like it.

"Mmmmm." She turns her head just enough that his stubbled jaw brushes against her cheek. Easy enough to imagine that same feeling in place of his fingers, considering how often he's in that position dining like a man starved. "Take your time, sly Mister Fox. I'll keep you in place until I'm finished with you."

She tightens her grip around the bulge of his erection. His breath hitches.

"Besides, you said this was after sex, yeah? So you've put plenty between my legs to keep that greedy mouth of yours busy, haven't you --"

The small pit orchestra seated below the stage begins playing (badly) as the next musical number starts, and it's a good fucking thing too because the little whine that spills from Raphael's lips against Zarra's neck is louder than appropriate.

Dangerous to tease him much further than this -- he'll be utterly wrecked in every way if she finishes him here -- but it's hard to resist. He drags his mouth along her cheek and turns forward, eyes on her stockings, toying with the band for a moment.

She grins.

"Before you ask: yes, I'll keep these on for you as long as you like."

She feels and hears the responding rumble of his purring groan, and he snaps the stocking band against her thigh lightly before creeping back up further and further towards the split hem of her skirt. Seeking fingertips dip underneath in pursuit of dampening lace, and this is the moment when Zarra decides to look up again --

"Shit," she hisses, elbowing Raphael in the ribcage. There's an usher coming up the aisle toward them, flushed in what's likely both embarrassment and anger. "Gotta go. We gotta go!"

There's a low, breathy chuckle in her ear, and a shadow passes over the two of them just so --

"Sir; ma'am -- we're going to have to ask you to --"

The darkness passes, and the usher blinks, confused. He could've sworn a man and a woman were in the middle of a shameless heavy petting session back here...

But the two bards are already back in Zarra's suite, and -- yes, now it's turning into a much more satisfying date.

(Again, not that they'd use that term.)

#laura's writing #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #this too is zarraphael #hbd Mel!!!

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