#a little self indulgent piece for y'all

[lightninghikari]

Soooo I dressed Wallace up on the outfit Taylor Swift wore for this year's VMA'S 👀🩷

[runningupthatvecna]

get the peach(es)

bestfriend!eddie munson x reader

it's the day after chrissy got vecna'd and you and the gang decide to check up on eddie at rick's. he's still in so much distress that you can't help but selflessly stay with your best friend (who you've been harboring a crush on for quite some time) and keep him company. 6k words, not proofread.

cw: the good old friends to lovers trope, eddie is an anxious bean who just needs to be held (by you, ideally), mutual (and not so secret at all) pining, i wrote this with fem!reader in mind (she/her pronouns) but can also be read as gn i guess, fluff, hurt/comfort (for eddie), pet names, mentions of chrissy's death, there shall be kisses and a lot of softness. nothing too explicit but minors are still advised to LEAVE

a/n: totally not self indulgent, that scene of him being so terrified in 4x02 ripped me to shreds so this is my fix-it attempt, trying to still my need to hold him and scratch his head. disclaimer: this piece of writing is based on the ending of that episode, meaning all credits for the setting go to the respective writers. sources to the header images here, here and here. lovely divider by saradika. ok thank you so much for reading byeeee love y'all <3

–––––

The overwhelming need to befriend the satanic metalhead found you at that party at the Wheeler house. You had almost said no to Nancy when she invited you, knowing damn well how the night would end. Steve passed out with a girl on his lap, Robin silently pining after Vickie from some corner of the room while clinging onto the red plastic cup in her hand, Jonathan getting higher than a kite with his old school mates, the younger kids asking you every five minutes if you could give them a ride since you usually were the one staying sober.

Additionally this time, there would be Eddie Munson. This familiar stranger Dustin, Mike and Lucas had met and somehow befriended over the last months, due to them joining his DnD club. "He might come off as a bit intimidating ... but I promise he's super chill and easy going!", Mike had tried to convince his sister, poking the tip of her shoulder repeatedly with a bunch of pleases during lunch break in the editing room of the school's newspaper. Until she rolled her eyes theatrically and agreed to let the ambiguous stranger, which the whole town collectively perceived as not really fitting in (and who you both certainly knew under the not so chill reputation he carried around), attend the celebratory events at Casa Wheeler. Occasion: Karen, Ted and their youngest leaving the house for more than one day, off on vacation.

You'd always kinda stayed out of his ways, used to observe his antics back at school with a silent laugh and this .. intrigue poking at your guts. To you he always stood out, and if anyone asked you'd be hesitant to admit it, but his willingness to go against the flow and not conform to the acceptable standards set by society was honestly impressive. And besides, surely this whole mysterious drug dealer rockstar image must just be a fassade and deep down he's just a dork, right?

His eyes follow you through the living room, an echo of your name crossing his mind repeatedly after having pulled Dustin into a corner for a brief interrogation. He finds it endearing how quickly and almost bashfully you look away every time your curious gaze meets his. As you redirect your focus to the conversation you're becoming engaged in, there's a soft smile creeping onto your lips. Little did he know it would soon start to haunt him in his dreams at night.

"Anything specific you're looking for?"

God, his voice. The close proximity invites your nose to inhale a mix of fresh cigarette smoke, bergamot and sandalwood, allowing you to sense what can only be him standing behind you as you skim through the cabinets of the Wheeler kitchen. You turn your head for your eyes to confirm your assumption and what they find is the deepest brown of round baby cow eyes they've ever met, up so much closer now. The paring of his gaze and plush smile somehow manages to dissolve every little prejudice you've been involuntarily harboring about him. Eddie Munson, the town's freak. Prime reason for the existence of the satanic panic. Drugs. And then you realise that you should probably do the polite thing and give him an answer. "Yeah uh, I was just trying to find the peach syrup", holding his gaze with a small lopsided smile, lost in its warmth which you wouldn't have dared to expect from it, before facing away from him again. He snorts a little, "peach syrup?", pauses to bring a thumb to his upper lip, lightly scratching the skin above as if to wipe something away, before he removes it again and the dimples appear around the corners of his mouth, "that is oddly specific." His response spreads a smile over your face, and the next thing he says widens it, "looks like you have taste though."

You move one step to the side, about to investigate the insides of the next cabinet, the kitchen itself almost empty of people with only three others chatting away in the corner across the island. He follows, undoubtedly trying to stay close, and the heat from the fire he just ignited somewhere inside of you rises to your cheeks. "Thanks, I really like peaches. Especially in my drinks. It adds a little ... kick to my sobriety", you explain, Eddie now quirks an amused eyebrow paired with a lopsided smile at you, and as you get to the last cabinet it dawns on you (and also Eddie) that this household severely lacks peach syrup. An atrocity. Thanks Ted.

After he helped you rummage through the entirety of the kitchen without success but under a lot of small talk, the metalhead vanishes from the function for an hour or so. At least that's what your brain concludes when your vision fails to spot him among the people who are in attendance. Maybe he's selling out of Nancy's bedroom. Maybe he's puking up his insides in the bathroom because he had too much of that weird beer he's been downing all night. Maybe he's banging some random girl in the bathroom upstairs. Or summoning a demon. Or both. At the same time. You once again try focusing your attention back to the conversation you are involved in. Munson already feels so dear to you that the lack of his presence is starting to form an ache in your heart. It's tugging on those strings with how much you already want him near you. Yeah. You're gonna be in trouble with this one.

And then he stumbles into the room from the direction of the front door, an event you're totally unable (and unwilling) to miss. He doesn't look like he just puked, nor sold a whole lot of the stash since you notice it still bulging out the left ass pocket of his black jeans. Instead, as he pushes past the small groups of people socialising – and towards you – while you notice a red net of round fruits dangling from his right hand, and you start to think that his disheveled hair and that rosy tint on his cheeks might actually not be from shagging either. He meets your gaze again as he approaches you with a grin and your heart dares to swell at his attentive gesture (you think you might as well pass away on the spot).

"Have some, peach."

It's not syrup, but you'll take them anyway. And with your next drink, you swallow down not only that peachy sweetness on your tongue, but also whatever this tingly feeling in your chest is.

"Chchhrhch.."

Pause.

"Hey, uh– chrhchhr.."

Silence in your bedroom, the only thing illuminating the space is the moonlight softly falling through the window.

"Chrch– a-are you there?"

You stirr awake from dozing off in your bed, trying to piece together the information your senses are giving you.

Eyes gone dry, you have to blink a few times. Figure out which year it is and so on.

Confusion lies between the static crackle for a moment. That nap after your shift at the diner was necessary. God, you need to fucking quit.

"No I'm sure she'll pick right up, just– hey pleeease b-be awake, goddamn it!–"

Is it already past midnight?

You don't know and you can't tell, the clock on your nightstand still broken. What you do know though is that the familiar voice belongs to your friend Dustin and it's desperately trying to get ahold of you.

They must have found him.

"Dustin? I copy, where are you? What's going on?", you finally grab the device from the nightstand, fully awake and aware of your surroundings now.

You need to know. If he's okay.

There's that all too familiar instant tingle in your chest again, an ache that made itself familiar to you for the first time when he was introduced to you at the one and only Wheeler party several months ago. The dungeon master of Hawkins High's Hellfire club, the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin and a super chill and easy going guy, to put it in Mike Wheeler's words.

What you didn't expect back then was your heart starting to develop that feeling, that tingle you'd always get to feel when you were in his presence, or like now, when his name is threatening to spill from your friend's lips on the other side of the connection at any moment.

"Aha! See? I told you she'd respond in no time."

You can practically feel Dustin's shit eating grin through the frequency, basking in being correct over Steve Harrington once again. It never gets old between these two.

"Oh my god", Steve's muffled voice is what you can make out vaguely from the off, he's probably palming his face.

"Dustin!", your voice disappears into the device, and your impatience grows with every passing second, hoping he gets the hint.

There's the sound of a door falling shut, leaves rustling under shoes, he must be outside now.

"Alright, okay yeah, so we found him at Rick's and he's really upset and he's been asking for you. I know it's late but can you meet us out here? And maybe, uh, stay with him?"

It's not even worth questioning. You're already wearing shoes. Your biggest hoodie in tow, you stumble into your kitchen with the intention to raid your own snack drawer. Pulling out Eddie's favourite, which you of course had stocked up on ever since hanging out with him at your place had become more of a weekly routine for the both of you.

Ten minutes, you told him. You'd be there in ten.

The drive feels like forever. The longest ten minutes of your life, you think.

You know the route like the back of your hand, having driven along the gravelly road leading from the last intersection before Hawkins' border to the outer world, to the serene woods surrounding Lover's Lake countless times. Eddie would take you here ever so often, for picnics, an occasional smoke after picking up a new delivery from Rick's, cloud or star gazing, listening to Metallica and Tears for Fears on Wayne's old walkman.

The gravel crunches underneath your white reeboks as they land on the ground. You close the door to your car as quietly as possible after you've taken out the bag and your hoodie.

Dustin and Steve are stood outside the boathouse, waving like madmen in the darkness once you come into their periphery.

The younger boy hugs you tightly.

"So glad you could make it", he gets out, the relief palpable through his voice as well as the grip he holds you in for a brief moment.

You look at them both after Steve presses you against him cordially, and breathe out through your nose, making your nostrils flare.

Dustin cracks open the case to you as he starts to ramble about the state in which they found your best friend, "well first he attacked Steve with a broken bottle, we had to put in great effort to convince him that we'd be on his side, and we came to the conclusion that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, basically."

What you want right now goes without saying. Everyone here knows how close you and Eddie are. As friends, of course. No one would think anything different.

Without wasting another second, the boys lead you inside where Max and Robin are knelt on the wooden floor. Heads turning towards the entrance of the room where you're now standing.

The sight of what's offered to your eyes, sitting opposite of them, breaks your heart.

You can see that he's slightly shivering, eyes glassy in the dim lit room. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips though once his brain grasps your presence, and he can't help anymore but let the water fall once his eyes lock with yours.

The pain that is swimming in those two deep warm brown oceans hits you like a dagger to the chest. Over the months of being friends with him you'd seen him various different states, none of them comparable to this.

"Peach", his shaky voice announces your arrival and the sound of your nickname spilling from his lips cracks through your bones. The bag that's slung around your shoulder drops onto the wood with a dull thud.

Wobbly legs carry him towards you with a gentle shove past Robin and Max. You're once again reminded of your best friend's sheer physical strength as he wraps his arms around you, instantly burying his face into the crook of your neck.

One arm of your own sneaks around his torso, pressing him against you as tightly as your own strength allows you, while your other hand comes up to bury itself underneath the mane and to end up scratching soothingly over the scalp above the nape of his neck.

Eddie lets out a muffled sob, sniffling into the collar of the sweatshirt you threw on in a haste. He doesn't really want anyone to see him like this, certainly not Steve Harrington, so he clutches onto you so tightly that he thinks you might just feel his heavy heart beating anxiously against your chest.

And you do. How could you not with the amount of world he means to you? Like an automatism your other hand rubs slow circles over his back. Comforting him in the best way you could. Not a conscious decision you make.

"Okay so, m'not meaning to ruin the party, in fact I'd love to stay for another round of doom talk, but I really should get home soon, guys", Robin scratches the back of her head after she gets up from her huddled position next to the wooden crate Eddie had been sitting on. Max joins in and agrees, mumbling something about having to move her mom from being passed out on the couch again into her bed.

"Yeah me too, actually. My dad's gonna be fucking pissed. We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?", Steve's voice echoes through the room and you can tell he's already shoved Dustin back outside, itching to drive the kid home.

As Eddie processes having to stay in hiding, added the possibility of everyone leaving without him, his grip on you tightens even more.

"It's okay, Eds", you speak softly, head slightly tilted so your cheek rests on the dark frizzy mop you could call his hair. The skin on his neck and scalp so warm underneath your fingertips as you keep scratching it, emphasizing your presence, "I'll stay."

A soft muffled whimper is what you get as a response, and the way he lets you see him in this state melts your insides to a puddle.

You just need him to be okay.

They wave their goodbyes behind your back, accompanied by mumbles of "see you in the morning", and you can't even bring yourself to turn your head around, fully focused on making the young man in your arms less terrified of the world. A world he was sure was now going to come for him with all its force – in deep conviction of him being responsible for Chrissy's misfortunate end.

The door falls shut and Eddie muffles a quiet thank you into the fabric of your sweatshirt. The skin on your neck is damp with his tears, wet eyelashes tickling every time he blinks.

"It's okay, Eds", you softly keep repeating your words to him while continuously rubbing over the denim of his signature Dio vest in a slow motion, when he feels the urgency to claim the truth into the collar of your sweater about what has happened, "I– I didn't do it, I swear."

As if you would need any convincing.

"Oh no of course you didn't, I know that", you're looking for a way to ease the distress this entire situation is causing him, his quivering voice adding to your desire to soothe him to inner peace, "can I make a suggestion?"

Eddie nods with another sniffle against your collarbone, the round wet tip of his nose brushing against the column of your throat lightly. To his ears, your voice sounds like silk right about now.

"How about we head over to the main house and get ourselves a little more comfortable? Since we're gonna be here for a little longer? My god you probably haven't slept or eaten at all, have you?"

You can feel him nod his head again with a hum this time, and you start to think that the tears might not just be pouring because he just witnessed someone suffer a gruesome death right in front of him, but also due to physical exhaustion.

It makes your heart ache even more, that tingle still present, even more so now. It hurts to see your best friend hurt.

He just needs to be okay. And in that heart of yours there's that little spark of hope that leads you to believe you could be the one helping him with that.

You'd really want that. Be all his to find comfort in, to hold close, to kiss stupid

Stop.

A sigh escapes your lungs at the thought. That tingle, that longing, it's selfish. It familiarly pools in your belly and slowly drips downwards. You push your brain aside. This is about soothing your best friend now.

"C'mon then", you utter softly, encouraging him with your hand to lift his head from where it leans against your shoulder.

For your heart it's almost too much to look at, the hurt still swimming in the glassy big brown irises, his waterline red and puffy. The soft smile returning to his lips causes the wet apples of his cheeks to push up slightly, reflecting the dim light coming from the one torch Robin left you, placed on one of the crates.

He really hadn't been able to close an eye for a single second since he he'd gotten up for school the day prior.

You smile back at him almost bashfully as you slowly create space between your bodies.

Eddie is grateful that it's you who grabs his ringed hand next.

He squeezes yours, hoping to get the message of this meaning something to him across.

And he closely trails behind you as you lead the way.

The house feels empty, like no one's really been here in months. You'd never been inside. The few times you'd accompanied Eddie grabbing stash you'd stayed in his van, waiting. But as far as you now can make out in the darkness, there's a couch with knitted blankets, a little TV with a whole stack of VHS almost rising as high as the screen itself, spilled and spluttered empty cans and papers and wrappings littered all around. Maybe this is why he never let you come inside with him. Keeping you out of this definitely not sterile mess. Along with keeping you out of the business.

In the middle of the living room, you let go of his hand and shuffle one step away from him. He's inside now. Safe. Job done. Doesn't need physical contact. You shouldn't, he's your friend. You feel like something between you would break if you'd go there.

Eddie thinks otherwise, regarding close proximity at least. He promptly follows you into what you believe to be the kitchen where you hope you might find a tea bag or two. He comes up behind you and encases you in his arms as you rummage through the cabinets (feels familiar, hm?), not at all ready to say goodbye to the warmth of your body pressed against his own just yet.

You giggle at the silliness of him putting weight on you just to make it harder for you to reach into the cabinets. It's endearing. And very Eddie.

Twenty minutes later and there's two mugs – cleaned to your best ability – with steaming hot liquid on the sixties wooden coffee table. Next to them a plate filled with the almost equally hot insides of a ravioli in tomato sauce can. Thank Rick for a still functioning microwave.

You drape the knitted blankets over both you and Eddie as you settle into the cushions. The only light existent coming from two lit candles on said coffee table. It wouldn't be too wise setting up the torch you think.

The side of Eddie's face glows in the orange yellow, his wide brown bambi eyes dried after the first grand storm, and there's this tug on the corner of his pink plush lips again. He exchanged his leather jacket for the freshly washed hoodie for comfort and a small part of you hopes he doesn't spill his dinner onto any of it.

You lean back into the backrest of the worn out couch and watch as he eats, a domestic thing you've done a thousand times already, yet you still find comfort in knowing that he's nourishing himself.

Or well, in this case, inhaling the raviolis.

"Thank you Peach", he moves to put the empty plate back on the coffee table and it makes the spoon chink and glide along the edge, "I really needed this."

His voice is a little hoarse, probably from the emotions of the hours behind him. Maybe he has indeed calmed down a little. His hand moves down to your thigh, squeezing.

You give him the most empathetic smile you can bring yourself to display, painfully aware of the blaze that is transpiring through your leggings and seeping into your bones, "it's no big deal, really. I mean it is– uh, being there for you, is."

And he can't bring himself to look up at you. Instead, he stares at the empty plate on that coffee table in front of him.

"And to me as well. It really helps that you're here."

He doesn't bother moving the calloused warmth of his hand from the soft warmth of your thigh. It lights your entire nervous system on fire. In a good way.

And that's when you begin to wonder if everything that has just happened and is still happening right now changes anything.

"I'm so glad it does", is all you're able to get out.

Eddie decides that it's time to lean into your side and wrap his arms around your torso once again, drop his head back to its favourite place with a soft content little hum.

He just needs physical comfort. Of course. Just that. Nothing more, nothing else.

The words are redundant but your mouth articulates them anyway, "try to get some sleep, yeah?"

His back already lifts and falls evenly. You place your hand on the back of his head that rests in the crook of your neck again, scratching through the curls lightly, searching to help him shut off even deeper.

–––––

The candles have gone out by the time your eyelids slowly open. It takes you a moment to recall the location you fell asleep in, and you hope that the nightly darkness the whole room is now filled with hasn't invited any stranger to take advantage of your unconsciousness.

There's a warm hand holding your face, the pad of a thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek softly. It makes its way from the bridge of your nose to the outer corner of your eye, and back. And forth. And back. And forth.

You must have moved to lie down on your back in your sleep, with Eddie's weight still on your body, legs entangled. It's not the first time you've slept like this, there had been movie nights that had ended similarly.

His hand caressing your cheek though, yeah that is new. There's something unspoken in the air this time around. Your stomach is doing flip flops when you realise that he is propped up on his elbow, just .. looking at you. With eyes that don't require light to hint at whatever it is he is trying to say, or maybe not trying at all.

"Eds, what are you doing?", you ask almost in a whisper followed by a lopsided smile, expecting an unserious answer, because he always tends to make a joke whenever he tries to avoid conversing about emotions regarding his heart.

His thumb stops its acrobatics on your cheek, comes to a halt.

"I'm–", he takes a deep breath before he continues, "I'm just so grateful it's you that's here right now."

Your hand comes up to cup his. Brush over his rough knuckles with a thumb of your own. Enjoying the warmth that is seeping from his palm into your skin.

"Yeah, I figured you were gonna be a little opposed to spending the night with Harrington", you laugh, an attempt to turn your nerves into humour.

Eddie snorts a little, "yeah right, it's almost like you know me", he grins and pushes himself even closer to your face than he already is. It doesn't necessarily help in extinguishing the fire that's consuming you whole at this point.

"It's almost like we're best friends and I know what you think of him because every time Dustin or literally anyone else mentions his name around you, you're not necessarily secretive about it."

"Hey, my own worldview is not my fault, it's just– ... he just kinda seems like a douche of the highest order."

"He's quite alright, Eds. Try giving him a chance, I think he'd look great as Coffin's tambourinist."

He snorts again and you feel his breath on the column of your neck next when he dips his head down, nose pressing against the soft skin, his small giggle being swallowed by the collar of your sweatshirt.

Your favourite sound. Ever. Followed by the relieved moan Eddie lets out at the way your other hand is softly rubbing over his shoulder blade. The vibration against your neck makes you twitch as much as being pinned into the couch cushions by his body allows you.

It's soothing as much for you as it is for him.

When he lifts his head, the soft gaze he eyes you with is enough to let the goosebumps erupt. Even in the darkness of the room you can still make out those round buttons that could melt the entire north pole.

"Thank you, Peach, really. I'd be goin' mental right now and probably tryin' to counter that by smoking an equally mental amount of the stash I've been hiding here."

Your heart aches.

"I'm just glad I can be that kind of comfort to you, Eds. You don't have to go through whatever the fuck this is alone."

"I know I'm never gonna be alone as long as you are there."

You almost cry yourself now, his words making your hand travel from his own to his cheek, almost passing out from the way his eyes bore into your own once again.

Eddie isn't sure what it is that is making him feel lightheaded right now. The whole rollercoaster of events of the past hours. Or your words of affirmation. Or mayhaps it is your cute soft hand with that little ring on your thumb which is gently swiping over his damp skin.

That cute soft hand he'd been imagining countless times at night, silently yearning for your eyes to look at him differently, to finally see him in a different light the next time you'd hang out.

Probably a combination of just everything.

You reciprocate his soft half-lidded gaze, hand moving from his cheek to tuck some of his hair behind his left ear, revealing that delicate silver hoop earring you'd gifted to him for his birthday, after having talked your ear off about getting his ear pierced for literal months.

He'd insisted you join him for the appointment, "another metal moment for the books", as Eddie had called it, the need to have his hand held during the stab comically urgent in the way his voice sounded when he called you that day. And in the pace in which he picked you up.

"I'm here no matter what", you respond to his sentiment, that hand that brushed his hair away resting on the side of his neck while leaning the weight of your head into his palm that is still attached to your cheek.

Eddie's confidence reaches a new all time high with the admission of your unconditional support being stirred into the cocktail of hormones and emotions that's been circulating in his bloodstream for a generous amount of time now.

Because then he goes on by saying impossible things.

Impossible things with a slightly less platonic undertone.

"You're so fucking sweet, has anyone ever told you?"

You smile as you shake your head, heat rising to your cheeks once again and you're sure he won't be able to see just how flustered he's getting you (joke's on you he does).

You're also sure he's out of his mind for saying that. Now.

"A shame, honestly. You should scold your best friend for not telling you sooner. Tell him what a fucking idiot he is."

Eddie earns another giggle from you. Music to his ears. Better than Metallica. Okay maybe not but .. pretty fucking close.

"I'll let him know next time I see him", you say with a grin, playing along with pleasure, and you ask yourself why it is only now that you realise just how fucking close his face is to yours.

There is a moment of silence in which Eddie hesitates articulating whatever is seemingly bugging his mind.

"Do you, uh, still like him?"

If you lifted your head just a little your noses would be touching. A silly and utmost redundant question, and yet, Eddie dreads your answer. If the circumstances were different, less dystopian and tragic, you'd seriously wonder what would spark the doubt in your friendship in him, but considering that everyone else would be going to pour their judgement over him, you understand.

Every word exchanged between the two of you at this hour is soaked in mutual infatuation, something the idiots in both of you are slowly starting to fathom as well.

"Of course I do, he's everything to me."

As you say it, you can't help the grin which reappears reliably each time you finish verbalizing your thoughts. It's contagious, you notice.

"And do you think – just hypothetically of course", it's only then he breaks eye contact to clear his throat, "of course", you interrupt him still smiling and cocking an eyebrow at him, "d'ya think it would be okay for this best friend to, uh, maybe...", Eddie pauses, internally watching the ship containing his confidence set sail slowly and ultimately letting the irrational thoughts win for tonight, "would you let him..."

Eddie generally wasn't someone who lacked confidence. It showed in the way he boisterously wandered the halls of Hawkins High, the way his demeanor never changed, his mask never faltered no matter who was around. Except for you. You who he had always granted a look underneath the impulsive, extroverted surface.

"Eds", you try everything in your power to stay calm even though everything inside of you is screaming right now and you're certain you can feel your pulse in your earlobes.

"Would it be just insane of that best friend to kiss you right now?"

You want to squeal and kick your feet, pull him into your face, pinch your own forearm, pass away, leave the house and never return, and stay right where you are forever, buried underneath your favourite metalhead, the parts where your bodies are touching practically on fire, cosy and content.

Instead, the most fond smile spreads over your lips as you try to contain your internal overwhelm.

It's still dark, the only light source being the full moon outside. Eddie's so hopeful of your reciprocation and even more terrified of ruining his entire life at the same time, those deep doe eyes at this point pretty much resemble the shape of the space rock orbiting earth. Rejection from you, his pretty Peach and the Bonnie to his Clyde, would be unbearable.

"I think so," you almost whisper, the hand that's been rubbing over Eddie's back coming up to lightly trace one of his eyebrows with your index finger because you just can't seem to not touch him in some way, "but you should know that I love his insanity."

Your small giggle is being silenced by a soft and cautious kiss from Eddie Munson. Like he doesn't want to break you. Or he's afraid you'll snap out of a haze, slap him and leave if he starts kissing you like he really wants to.

And then it's you who goes for it, you feel at home, right where you belong, you don't think you've ever felt this good. The hand on his jaw tugs him closer softly, pressing your lips to his with a bit more urgency.

It gives him all the confirmation he could possibly need.

That tingle, it grows and fills up your chest and shoots through your entire being, goosebumps and all. Eddie moans and breathes against your lips, tongue dancing over the thin skin, asking for permission.

His ringed hand digs deeper and slowly moves to the nape of your neck, intending to hold you in place, afraid you could slip away from him if he didn't. This blossoming thing between you could slip away from him. If he didn't.

It's so soft, the way his lips touch yours, and before you know it they move to your cheek, to your jaw, down your neck before Eddie comes up again, smiling from ear to ear, to gently bump his nose against the tip of yours and his lips return home with a soft and deep hum escaping from his lungs into your mouth.

Relief floods his veins along with whatever it is you're doing to him. The ability to shut out the insanity of the past hours is what he so desperately wants to cling to for as long as you allow him, even if the dawn will remind him of the horrid reality he's involuntarily become subject to live through now.

"You're making things so much better, Peach, you're so sweet, so fucking cute, so fucking good for me, do you even know for how long I've been dreaming of this?"

Eddie greedily pulls your face into his again, not even giving you a chance to reply and not nearly getting enough of your affection it seems with how fervently his tongue searches for yours.

A gentle collision of skin.

The soft whimpers you let out only spur him on. You not backing away from him, staying with him, letting him be this close to you?

You, the only constant source of consolation Eddie's ever really had.

Life changing.

Soft touches follow soft touches, your thumb traces his jaw repeatedly.

"You don't–", kiss, "for how long–", kiss, "I've been dreaming–", kiss, "of you as well", you breathe against him and Eddie thinks he might be about to resort to sniffling into your collar again with the amount of relief he is experiencing.

You'd let him.

"Yeah?", he presses his nose into your cheek with his eyes closed, smiling from ear to ear, relaxing his entire body into yours as you let him slide inbetween your legs.

"Yeah, you know how much of a sucker I am for peaches", you grin, another peck to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, your hips slowly finding a rhythm against his own.

Eddie groans at your allusion with a wide grin on his face (and the feeling of your warmth against his dick), before pressing his lips against yours again lovingly, "me too baby, me too."

–––

taglist (thought you might be interested): @josephfakingquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @analogkraken, @wroteclassicaly, @songforeddiemunson, @joejoequinnquinn, @somnambulic-thing, @trashmouth-richie, @eddddiemunson, @ceriseheaven, @userchai

comments, reblogs and other forms of affection towards the author are greatly appreciated thank youuuuu <3

[candied-heartss]

“i might let you make me juno!”

(stanford!art donaldson x fem!girlfriend!reader)

summary: art loves his sweet, little girlfriend, but thinks she'd look even better with a baby at her side!

cw: penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't be fools wrap your tools, y'all), praise kink, missionary position, "baby-trapping" and references to pregnancy/bearing children (reader & art have talked beforehand), reader is fem and is referred to w she/her pronouns, slight size kink(?), inspired by sabrina carpenter's ‘juno’, really short n not exactly proofread so pls bare w me 😭😭

word #: 544 words

a/n: hey y'all!! guess who's back from the dead perchance lmao anyways sorry for basically being mia, classes have been kicking my ass 😭😭 anywhosies enjoy this self-indulgent brain vomit xx <33

"art, honey... i think i wanna try it..."

ever since those words fell from your lips all those weeks ago, art has been nothing but driven completely wild.

almost every night, after coming home from a particularly long practice match or studying, it would always end the same. you bent over or laid up on the nearest piece of furniture while he pounded into you like no tomorrow.

now, of course, you loved it all. the sloppy, almost clumsy nature of his hastily timed thrusts, the tight, but loving grip he held on your hips and thighs, and the praise that would fall off of his tongue like sugar.

"doin' so good, sweet girl... love this cunt, love you s'much... wanna give it to you..." he would murmur into your ear, hips colliding with yours.

"want it... please, art... want it sooo bad." you would cry out softly, only to gasp whenever he would inevitably give in to your pleas and press you tight up against him.

"you feel that? that's me..." he would boast with a quiet, almost prideful chuckle as his hand ghosted over your lower abdomen where he could feel your cunt greedily clenching and taking him in, "god, i just... wanna put a baby in you, you'd look so damn pretty pregnant." and the mere thought of it, you all round and swollen, your breasts tender to the touch and your nipples so easily malleable, especially under art's touch, made you shiver with need.

and each time, he always seemed to know when you were on the brink of a mind-numbing orgasm, as if he had a six sense designated for your pleasure, only.

"c'mon, sweetheart... lemme feel it." he would practically moan in your ear, his thrusts becoming more harsh and punctuated, making the occasional choked whine slip from your throat.

"a-art!... coming, 'm gonna come..." you would practically shriek, clutching onto him as if you were afraid he'd disappear if you didn't. your eyes then rolled back as the buildup finally came crashing down, rendering you in a dazed state and turning both your bones and brain into a melted puddle. art then swiftly followed with a groan, leaning his head back in pure, unadulterated ecstasy as your cunt milked his cock for all its worth.

as you began to come down from your prolonged high, you could still feel him thrusting inside of you, desperately chasing a release of his own, before he finally came with a hoarse grunt, shaky, pleasured sighs leaving the both of your mouths as you felt him from you up entirely with his cum.

and when he pulls out, it only then spurs on the incentive to finish what he started. moving back in between your thighs, he leans in close to your aching, swollen cunt before dragging his fingers through the spend that dripped out of you before carefully plunging them back into you, causing a weak moan to fall out of your mouth.

"careful, baby," art then muses with an almost playful smile painted on his lips, "we're not finished 'til you can make me a daddy, okay?"

and, god, you swore that if you could, those words could definitely make you fall in love with him all over again.

[shidouryusm]

✿༝༚༝༚ Satoru: 1 You: 0 ✿༝༚༝༚

content -> fluffy fluff, banters, teasing and touching, making out, mentions of hickey at the end, implied sexual innuendo at the end.

w/c- 1.6k

a/n -> Happy birthday to my blue eyed goober, I love this lil shit till infinity. @pastelle-rabbit to answer your ask more thoroughly hehehehe. And to every Gojo fucker, hope y'all enjoy this once again extremely self indulgent piece with me and let's celebrate our pookie's birthday. Gojover? hell nah what's that

dividers by @/cafekitsune

“Babyyy, I’m hereee. Stop looking at your phone”, you hear Satoru’s whines muffled in your sweater. Your arms wrap around his neck as you hold the phone above his head, which in fact you were using to post for his birthday.

“Just a min, ‘toru.” you murmur softly, using one of your hands to thread through his cloud like hair. Your nails gently graze his scalp, starting from his undercut, as they smoothe over the prickly skin, reaching to the tufts of white candy floss that sits atop, repeating the circling motion again and again. Satoru hums satisfyingly at the feeling of your hands combing through them, comfortable enough to shut up momentarily and nuzzling himself further into your chest. You smile at his clinginess, dipping down to press a light peck on the top of his head. 

Your nostrils fills with the sweet scent of shampoo, the fragnance carrying undertones of candy and molten marshmallow. You wonder where he even gets these and how much do they cost? 

His hands envelopes your back as you half lay on the couch with him plopping himself right on top of you, his tall frame settles between your legs while his head nests snugly on your chest. You tangle one of your leg around the back of his shin. A mess of limbs under the thin blanket that covers both your lower bodies. 

Outside, the sun shlyly peeks from the greyish clouds that wrings out sudden downpours every now and then, forcing both of you to coop up inside the house. 

Not that Satoru was complaining at all, until now, when you shifted your attention from your grown ass boyfriend to your phone. He scoffs mockingly at you, still immersed deep in your phone. What even is there in that godforsaken phone? His blue eyes maliciously eyes that rectangular device. He lays on your chest, silently devising plans on having you all to himself, till the cogs of his brain click.

He shifts, raising himself slightly under the pretext of  “just getting comfortable” so that his face now nestles the crook of your neck. Warm breaths tickles the skin under your ear to which you squirm a little, 

“Toru-” you warn. From your peripheral vision you see him curled up over you, pulling the warmth of your body towards him. His face painted with an expression of serenity as if the only thing in his mind is to be bask in your silent embrace. 

“Hmmm? What did I do?” faux innocent laced his words. You roll your eyes, one of your head still tangled between his locks. He waits for a while, letting you fall into a fake sense of security before  his hands that were wrapped around your lower back start their journey to explore the expanse of your back. His touch is soft, leaving an electrifying sensation through your thin sweater. Almost ticklish and tantalising. One of his hands reach below, long fingers playing with the hem of your sweater, daring to slip underneath it. 

You try your best to not give into whatever mischief his brain has cooked up. Even though, you know, you should have given him the attention, considering it’s his birthday. 

But, since he had to be a menace, two can play the game, right? 

Your attention has now fully shifted to your phone, the cat reel that was playing became ten times more interesting to watch. You even decided to up a notch, removing your hand from his hair to grab the phone with both hands. 

“So, this is how it’s gonna be?” you hear him challengingly mutter, the removal of your hands acting as a declaration of silent war between you two. You dared not to look at him, although you were certain that his face is curled up in his trademarked smirk, plotting to win. 

But if he’s Gojo Satoru, you are Gojo Satoru’s girlfriend. No way in hell you are backing out from this little game you both started literally out of nowhere. 

“Gonna be what, ‘Toru? What did I do?,” you parrot his words back at him, feigning innocence while still peering at your phone. Your jaw muscle twitches, a smile threatening to break out. 

Satoru quirks an eyebrow, amused by your witty banter. One of the many things that made him fall head over heels for you – your ability to match his energy at any given moment.

 Little challenges sparking up between you guys often, keeping the ultimate fire of passion alive. 

“Well, if you say so then,” Satoru breathes, his hands now fully getting into work, as they roam around your body. his other hand trails down to your hips, studying the way his palm bumps over the dips and curves. 

The hand that was fiddling with the hem has slipped inside, resting over the waistline of your sweatpants. You feel your heart race as his blunt nails scrape over your skin ghostily, hooking one finger under to pull the elastic. He snickers against your skin before releasing the fabric, letting it snap against your skin. 

You let out a small gasp at his ministrations. From the corner of your eyes you can make out this insufferable prick grinning at you, still resting his face on your neck. 

“Low blow, ‘toru.” you narrow your eyes, determined to still not make any eye contact as you whisper under your breath, which apparently he caught on. 

You hear him hum, “hmmmm? should have known before removing your hand, baby,” his satirical voice vibrates through as you scoff.

“Should have kept your hands to yourself in the first place.” 

“Shouldn’t have ignored me in the first place. Y’know it’s impossible for me to not touch you, why demand such a thing?” with that, he lets his fingertips place fluttering touches all over your skin, without the obstruction of your sweater. You hiss, trying to squirm away from his cold fingertips but this sturdy, 6 foot giant had you locked under his hold, causing you to fail horribly.

“You’re cold! Get your hands off me.” you grumble. Satoru pretends to not hear anything, continuing to draw random lines with his fingers all over your lower back and sides. At times, fully planting his palm on your back, the frigidness making you gasp and falter. 

“More the reason for me to touch you. You’re hot, baby.” he quips, to which you fall silent. How does he have the answer to everything you say? 

“I’m not gonna leave my phone nor will I react now. You’re gonna lose the challenge”, you huff to which he shrugs his shoulder,

“Nah, I’d win.” Satoru says coolly, resuming his exploration with his hands.

You fall back to your phone, finding it difficult to concentrate on whatever is playing on the phone with the way Satoru’s hands glides over your skin. The pads of his fingers skim through your stomach. Even though they are cold, the lingering touch leaves wamr blaze in its wake. Your heart races sporadically as you anticipate where his hands might move next. 

Although, your face says otherwise, making the most sour expression possible as you stare daggers into your phone. Satoru has always noticed every minuscule details and changes in your body, so this definitely didn’t go under his radar. 

He decides it’s time to dial it up a bit. Afterall, he’s the birthday boy.

With his left hand which was already underneath your sweater, he continued tracing over your skin, while his right hand snaked up to the neckline of your sweater right where his face is currently planted to tug it down, exposing more of your skin in front of him. The veil of cold from the weather outside causes goosebumps to flesh out in your skin, catching Satoru’s eyes as he admires them with his piercing gaze before his mouth puckers in a “o”, cool air slid over your skin from his mouth. 

“T-toru, stop it.” your resolves crumbles like your voice. 

“Are you denying the birthday boy, baby? Don’t hurt me like that.” He whispers against your skin, a mocking bent in his tone as he feigns sadness. You debate whether to succumb to his touches or strangle him.

You breathe through your mouth, attempting to gain composure which you are notoriously failing to do. Satoru’s lips presses against your skin, his lips etched with a grin as he places countless pecks throughout the crevice of your neck and shoulder.

“So fucking pretty, still can’t believe you’re like all mine. Why were you ignoring me, baby. Need you always so fucking much.” Satoru’s gravelly voice vibrates through your skin, the tingles straight shooting down your spine. His hand has now gripped your side like a vice, fingers indenting deep into the skin.

 He groans against your shoulder as he press a kiss there, finding his way back to your neck again, millions of kisses littering your skin. He reaches under your ear, his teeth nipping lightly at the lobe.

Meanwhile, his hands push your body up, towards him, grinding his lower body against yours.

A soft whimper dares to escape your lips before you suppress it. Hands turning a little wobbly, and you hate how heat courses through your veins as Satoru turns your whole being into a mushy puddle against himself.

“Give up, darling.” Satoru whispers in your ear, before his mouth catches hold of your skin. His teeth scrapes the skin, sucking it fervently, while his back pushes you flush against him, letting you feel all the ridges and contour of his skin. His heart rhymes with your, palpitating with galloping beats. A soft whine escapes Satoru's throat at this steamy turn of events.

This had to be the last straw that broke the camel’s back as your phone slides from your hand, falling somewhere on the floor. Your head tips back and a breathy moan ricochets the room as Satoru duly runs his tongue over the hickey that prickled a little.  

You hear Satoru’s simpering resonating around the room as he pulls you up, now seated on the couch with you straddling his lap

“See, told you I’d win.” his hand caresses the newly formed mark that will definitely take a concealer or turtleneck to hide.

“You prick. Fuck you. You did that on purpose.” 

“Tell me where it says I can’t do that.” he muses, shutting you up once again. Your lips jut in a pout as you stare at him. 

His eyes are so blue, glossing with the reflection of the rain pouring outside. His forehead veiled with your most favourite part of his body – those fluffy tufts of hair and his lips curl into a toothy smile. The eyes brimming with love and admiration for you.

Even as he weaseled his way out with an upper hand, you don't feel any of it. Rather, you drink in the way he looks so haphazard. So messy. So homely.

Your hands reach to cup his face, feeling the physicality of his beauty before you lean down to press a kiss.

“The least I can do for you birthday is to let you win, I guess. Happy Birthday, sexy.” you murmur against his lips, taking them between your own.

 He returns the kiss with the same vigour, his hands are now out of the sweater, holding your back for support, whilst pulling you close to him. 

The flavour of your strawberry balm etches itself in Satoru’s mind and he never wishes to stop from relishing the taste of your soft lips. A calm havoc wreck his insides as he thanks whatever lies above for granting him the biggest gift of his life – you.

You break apart from him, his eyes deepening their shade of blue and his face carrying a lingering expression of passion. His chest heaves from deep breaths as you stare at him with confusion. He motions his eyes downwards, making you realise what’s the issue.

“Mind helping me out?” 

a/n -> God I'd commit felonies to experience this especially with a 6'feet, white haired, blue eyed, freakishly handsome and annoying blockhead.

[papurgaatika]

Kiss Me Once, Then Kiss Me Twice

Pairing: Joel Miller x F! Reader

MINORS DNI WITH MY WORK PLEASE !!

A/N: disclaimer this is so insanely self-indulgent. I got my IUD put in this past Wednesday and have been in bed with pain since then and if I could have gotten a strong man to coddle me through it, I would be 900x better than I am today. Quite frankly, I'm dying more now than I was the day of the procedure but that's bc I'm impatient and can't wait a whole three months for the side effects to pass. If you're thinking about getting an IUD please talk to a doctor about allll the side effects and which one is best for you and also yap @ me about it, I'm an open book

Also, this is not beta read, I don't care enough. I'm sorry y'all are gonna see my overuse of commas. Xoxo, peace and love on earth from me as always.

Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!!

Tags/warnings: fluff, domestic joel, reader has an IUD and has hair that joel runs his fingers through.

Word Count: 773

Summary: Like I said earlier, self-indulgent perfect boyfriend joel taking care of you after your IUD insertion.

I’m dying.

That was the notification that popped up on Joel’s phone while he was at work. He was confused, but mostly just concerned. You’d usually send him a message with an egregious amount of punctuation or emojis to emphasize your mood, so to see something so… bland was worrying. He didn’t think he would be able to sit patiently for a reply to a text and calls you instead “Baby, you alright? What happened?” His voice is soft but stressed at the same time, wanting to make sure that you are alright. 

And despite your current agony, he did soothe you. The low timbre of his voice, the way you could imagine his brow creasing, was more than any anti-anxiety pill could do for you. “I got my IUD put in.” you know he could hear just how pitiful you sounded, curled up in bed with your heating pad currently burning a hole into your skin “Everything hurts, I’m dying.” 

You were absolutely tugging on his heartstrings and he could feel his protectiveness taking over. “Oh sugar,” he coos into the phone “I’ll be over in a little bit, alright? You hang tight for me, I'm on my way.” He doesn’t even give you time to protest before he hangs up the phone and tells Tommy he’s taking an early day today, heading over to you as soon as possible.  The next half hour was spent with you curled in bed, trying to get comfortable and failing. You could barely stomach any food, the ibuprofen wasn’t doing anything, and your heating pad felt like it was barely on despite it staying at the highest setting. All of the lights in your room were off and you just wanted to curl into a hole, it was like your period cramps had gotten steroids and you were dealing with the aftermath. 

About forty minutes into your routine of deep breaths and groaning into a pillow you hear your front door open, and a gentle knock on your bedroom door. “Honey?” Joel’s soft voice calls out “Oh baby…” he drops the bags of goodies he’d picked up for you and moves to brush a few strands of hair from your sweaty forehead, laying a kiss on your skin. “That bad?” you all but manage to nod in response to his question, clutching the heating pad closer to your stomach. He pulls out a bag of chocolates he’d gotten from the store and hands you a piece. “C’mon baby, eat somethin’ for me.” 

You open your mouth and let him give you a piece of the chocolate, a smile finding its way onto your lips. “Thank you, Joel,” you whisper, looking at him like he’d hung the stars for you. “Y’know what I really need though?” you ask, taking a deep breath through the monstrous cramp that hit you “Boyfriend weighted blanket.” Joel can’t help but laugh aloud at your words, his hand running over your back in soft motions, rubbing at your hips to help keep the aches away from you. He would give into anything you asked of him in a heartbeat, and if you wanted him to lay on top of you to feel better, he would do it. 

“Alright, pretty baby. One boyfriend weighted blanket coming up.” He stands up and stretches out before he lays down, his weight practically smushing you into the mattress. You let out a sigh of relief at the constant pressure against your body, helping the pain and tiredness fade in the moment. You can see him rummaging through a grocery bag next to your bed through your peripheral vision, and letting out a snort of laughter when he pulls out a giant tub of Advil. 

You try to keep a straight face when he puts it on your side table, right in your line of sight, but you can't help the giggles that leave your lips. “That thing could cure a small village of aches and pains, honey.” you chew your lip in a half attempt to stay quiet. 

You can feel Joel shrug on top of you, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “Wanted to make sure you were all good this weekend, I’m not leaving you for a damn second.” he murmurs against your hair “Got some soup on the way too, know you barely eat anythin’ anyway.” your heart was overflowing with how much love you had for this man. The one who had offered to take you to your appointment, to get a vasectomy so that you wouldn't have to go through the pain of this, your perfect man.

[universesweetheart]

Bad Dream (Dazai x Reader)

Art credits to haru9033 on Twitter (X or whatever the new name is)

Look at my cinnamon bun, my sweet baby. He's safe in my bed y'all! This is 100% self-indulgent because my therapy is until the 18th so I needed a distraction after reading chapter 109.

In which we have a nightmare (chapter 109 is the fucking nightmare) and Dazai comforts us to the best of his abilities. He's trying ok!

Should I write comfort for Sigma? When I get my hands on that rat!

Bye now - Mars ♡

Your eyes shot open, big and filled to the brim with tears. You felt your heart beating out of your chest, the muscle pumping larger amounts of blood under the silly impression that you’re dying. You were dying. It felt so, at least.

This unbearable tight feeling in your chest, like someone had your heart in their hands and was continuously wringing. Tighter and tighter. Your throat, stiff and dry, made your body feel worse. You could barely get a word out.

Dreams have a funny way of feeling too real and your silly little brain confuses reality with them. But it felt so real.

An overwhelmingly dreadful feeling engulfs your chest.

Breathe. Breathe.

The man beside you sleeping peacefully, or so it looked. Your legs intertwined with each other, and his head rested up against your breast without fully being on top of you. You try to calm yourself down, not wanting to wake your lover. It’s rare he gets any sleep. His own mind a steady home for ugly thoughts.

Gently you push him away from your body and get up, making your way to the kitchen. You poured yourself a glass of cold water and chug it down.

“Bella…” Dazai calls from the doorway, his face filled with sleep and his hair messy yet he still managed to look beautiful. He’s always beautiful.

“Oh… Osamu” you said weakly with a smile. “Just got a bit thirsty” you lie. You’ve figured out a while ago that it’s impossible to lie to him. The man was simply too smart.

Dazai smiled and approached you, his hands finding homage on your waist. “Bad dream?” he asked and leaned down holding you close. He rubbed his cheek against yours.

You nod, “I can’t hide anything from you huh?” his grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly. “No.”

He hums and leads you back to your bedroom. “Come, sit” he sits down on the bed leaning against the headboard and pulls you down onto his lap, “Tell me about it” His voice low and gentle. He radiates a certain comfort, or maybe it was because you’ve grown to love him so dearly that you naturally seek comfort from him.

Dazai places a kiss on your forehead, his hand rubbing your back trying to soothe you.

��Osamu…I…” You take a deep breath, “you… you died” your voice breaks and the tears roll down your cheeks. He brings his other hand up to your cheek, wiping away your tears. “I know it’s just a dream, but it felt too real and-and” you bury your face into the crook of his neck. His scent working as a grounding method, you breathe him in deeply. He smells like home.

Your home.

“I just don’t want to lose you” the tears kept flowing and your voice trembles as you speak.

“Bella I’m here” Dazai pulls you closer to his body as if to prove his point. “Right here my love” he leans down and kisses you. The kiss is slow, long, sloppy and each passing second, he presses himself closer into you. “I’m not going anywhere” he whispers against your lips.

He knows he’s contradicting himself. He knows. He knows he sounds like a hypocrite because he’s always mentioning suicide and asking you to die alongside him but right now. Right now, seeing you like this, crying and trembling he feels his heart breaks to pieces. And crying because of a stupid dream of him dying makes it even worse.

He knows it’s selfish but how he’s happy. Because he feels so loved right now. You’re crying over him, even if it’s just his dream self, you’re still crying for him. His heart does a little flutter. Still his main priority is comforting you, he’s no stranger to nightmares and you’re always there to comfort him when he’s bothered by his own ugly thoughts and dreams.

But Dazai felt so helpless, and he uttered out the most cliché words, but he couldn’t help it. Not when his love is trembling in fear right in his arms. 

“Samu you” you exhales, trying to find your composure but every time you think you’ve stopped crying the minute you look into his eyes the tears start coming again. It was horrible, the image of your nightmare just replaying in your head.

Wrapping your hands around him you hug him tightly, you’re afraid he may not be able to breathe so you release it a bit. “Don’t fucking die” you threaten and Dazai can’t help but smile. This woman.

“Bella sshh” he seeks out your lips, kissing you again. “M’here, right here, yeah?” he pulls back and hold your face with both hands and rests his forehead against yours.

You’ve calmed down a bit, forehead resting against his. “Osamu, just” you found it hard to speak. Your body slightly trembling, seeking your lover’s touch.  “Don’t move, just hold me…please”

He wraps his arms tighter around your form, you snuggle into him and close your eyes.

Dazai found himself humming softly and patting your back in a comforting manner. He kept doing so until he felt your light snore and the slower heartbeat. The steady thump thump thump comforting him.

“I love you very much and I won’t leave” he whispered and placed a kiss on the crown of your head.

.

That night Dazai Osamu stayed awake and kept his lover tightly secured in his arms, looking over and comforting them.

[fbfh]

I want to fuck Daryl Dixon so fucking bad. y'all don't even understand the primal need I have to milk him dry, suck his soul out through his heavy uncut dick. and I KNOW the feeling is mutual because we all know Daryl's the typ to suppress and ignore his emotions, right???? which means OBVIOUSLY he'll be too focused on staying alive and keeping the group safe to even think about sex, too exhausted from fighting walkers and scavanging supplies, just making it through the day to even whack one out. and all of that sexual frustration just builds and builds and builds deep in his subconsious until one day he's out hunting and comes across you. he doesn't expect to see someone alone and without a group, especially not such a hot piece of ass like you. he's older, you know there's an age gap between you, but you are both adults, and only meeting for the first time now. you justify this to yourself, mentally trying to figure out if anything between you would be legally or ethically yucky. you decide that it's fine - especially given the state of the world - to indulge your feelings.

Daryl brushes it off for as long as he can. He ignores the way you look at him, and all the dreams of you sneaking into his tent and riding him until you squirt, he ignores the stray thoughts that leave him a little bricked up happening more and more. He ignores it until one night, you actually do sneak into his tent. He thinks he's dreaming at first, seeming as gruff and chilly as ever, but you don't care. You just crouch next to him and hug him, hiding your face in his bare chest.

"I... I had a bad dream." your words are simple, but they really speak volumes. He knows first hand how bad the nightmares can get, and your skin feels so nice on his. he's so touch starved that he doesn't even realize why he's pulling you into his lap, holding you close and rubbing your back, he just knows it feels... really good. like, really really good. so he tries to calm you down and help you settle back down for sleep, laying you down next to him. you cuddle up to him so painfully close that he doesn't know what to do. You wrap both your legs around one of his thighs, squirming a little as you settle down.

"'m sorry for keeping you up so late," you say, pouting up at him and he is SO close to folding. he has maybe one or two scraps of self control that are fully stripped away when you squirm some more, rocking your core against his thigh, and he feels it. He feels the slimy, slippery wet patch growing wetter and wetter as you "get comfortable".

"Do you think there's something that could... y'know... tire me out a little?"

and he folds. of COURSE he folds, anyone would with you being all cute and sweet to them, ESPECIALLY someone whose heavy, full balls are bluer than the lonliness and pain in his heart. he uses his last ounce of self control to say your name like a warning, but it only serves to make your pussy throb against his leg - something he definitely does not miss.

"You're playing a dangerous game here, kid..." he warns. You inch closer and closer to him, batting your eyes up with a cute little pout.

"'m not a kid," you protest. your eyes flick between his eyes and his lips, and you can't stop your hips from grinding down onto his thigh. "...you want me to prove it?"

but with how fast he flips you over and pins you down and folds you in half, you really don't have time to prove anything.

[lewmagoo]

try a little tenderness | rhett abbott

description: in which you take care of each other in different ways

pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader

warnings: 18+ only, slight angst, very brief mention of religious trauma, rhett's childhood trauma, smut, dom/sub undertones, rhett is a switch, mention of kink play, oral (m receiving), deep throating, cum swallowing

notes: just a self-indulgent little somethin'-somethin' with some holiday vibes to go along with it. hope y'all enjoy

You were barely holding it together. 

The rain that poured from the dreary sky seemed to encapsulate your mood as you made your way home from work that evening. It was mid-November, and the weather was just beginning to make its shift into winter. 

On your little homestead, you and your husband had been battening down the hatches, preparing the house and the surrounding property for the onslaught of frigid temperatures and snow storms that were sure to blow in over the next few weeks. 

Wyoming winters were long and hard. But somehow, you didn’t mind them that much. Not when you had your little farmhouse to snuggle into on days when the weather got bad. You’d moved into the house when you and Rhett had first gotten married. Although it was a house that had been in your family for years, it was a fixer-upper, and everyone had told you that you were wasting your money. But the two of you were determined to make a home out of it. And you had. It was a safe haven for both of you. 

And now, you were running to it, seeking refuge in its warmth, and in the comfort of your husband’s arms, because he was what made it a home. 

They say home is where the heart is. He was your heart. 

He was so much steadier than you were. At the moment, you felt incredibly fragile. As if a gust of cold wind would shatter you into millions of tiny pieces and leave Rhett to have to pick up those pieces and painstakingly glue you back together. 

You’d been trying, but failing, to hold in your tears the entire thirty-minute drive home. You couldn’t even bring yourself to turn on your driving playlist to occupy the silence, you were simply too overwhelmed and needed the peace and quiet. 

All you could think about was how deeply you longed to be in Rhett’s comforting embrace. He was the only one who could console you when you were like this. And he loved being that for you. Knowing he was your source of comfort above all others made him feel special. It made him feel needed. 

It was him you depended on. Him you allowed to see you at your most vulnerable. He cherished those moments. Even though it pained him to see you suffering, it brought him some semblance of peace to know that he was providing you comfort. 

He knew that things had been difficult for you as of late. You were at a crossroads in your life, forced to make some hard decisions that had been weighing heavily on you. You’d spent countless hours agonizing over them. 

Sometimes, it felt as if your only easy choice in life had been choosing to marry Rhett. You’d known beyond a shadow of a doubt that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. He was good. He was kind. And he loved you. Did he come with his fair share of struggles? Absolutely. But that was what made him human. All the things he had been through had shaped him into the perfect man for you.  

You had both gone through hell to get to each other. Your souls were bonded together, forged in the fires of great tribulation. But you were stronger together because of it. 

You had built a life together. One of peace and security, far away from those who had wronged you. Rhett had distanced himself from his family. He only kept in contact with his mother and his niece. 

Gone were the days of walking on eggshells, trying to avoid knock-down drag-out arguments with his brother. He didn’t have to use that sort of caution with you, because you never treated him that way. He’d learned how to communicate his feelings, rather than fight about them. There were never screaming matches within the walls of your home. Never a raised voice. Never a harmful hand laid upon the other. 

It was a place of solace. And that was why you were running to it. 

As you pulled into the driveway, the rain gave way as the first flakes of November snow began to swirl from the sky. Normally, you would stop to admire them, but you hardly even noticed the white flurries as you pulled into the carport next to the house. 

Your eyes were blurring with hot tears, and all you wanted was to get inside, to find Rhett and fall into his arms. But as you climbed out of the car, the strap of your bag got caught on the gearshift. You didn’t notice until it was too late, and in a very dramatic turn of events, the force of the catch was enough to send you stumbling. On the way down, your ribs clashed with the bottom edge of your car, sending sharp pain blossoming through your torso. 

You yelped, squeezing your eyes shut as you breathed through the ache. Meanwhile, Rhett was inside the house, having just seen the flash of your headlights in the window, signaling that you’d arrived home. Eagerly, he headed to the kitchen, with the intent of making dinner, because it was his night to do so. He was making grilled cheese, the one thing he had finally mastered in the kitchen, and he wanted it to be nice and hot for you, so he’d waited until that moment to begin preparing dinner. 

But as he set to work, he noticed that it was taking you a while to come inside. Curious, he glanced out the window that overlooked the carport, and to his surprise, he saw you on the ground next to your car. 

His jovial mood dissipated, replaced with concern. Without hesitation, he hurried to the door, where he shoved his feet into his worn, old boots and then wrenched the door open. 

“Darlin’?” He called out, as he stepped outside, boots crunching on gravel. Quickly, he rounded your car, which gave him a full view of you crumpled on the ground, crying. Immediately, he was rushing to your aid. “What happened?! Are y’alright?”

He knelt beside you, wide-eyed, searching your body for any signs of outward harm. His protective instincts had kicked in.

“I-I fell,” you managed to whimper out. Honestly, it wasn’t even the fact that you’d fallen that kept you on the ground. It was the fact that you were entirely depleted of physical and emotional strength, and once you’d hit the ground, you couldn’t bring yourself to stand back up. 

“Are ya hurt?” That was his biggest concern. He’d drive you to the hospital if he had to. 

Your bottom lip wobbled as a fresh wave of tears poured down your weather-cooled cheeks. “A-a little,” came your response. You knew that your ribs were going to bruise. 

“Hospital hurt?”

“No.”

Rhett nodded, relaxing a little. “Alright. I’ll help ya up. Let’s get inside where it’s warm.”

Lovingly, he helped you to your feet, securing his arm around your waist, and grabbing your bag from the car before he led you into the house. The warmth washed over you immediately. You hadn’t realized how cold you were, but the slight tingle in your fingertips told you that you had certainly gotten a chill from outside. 

Rhett closed the door behind you, effectively shutting out the cold. You stood there in the entryway, unmoving as you felt another wave of tears overcome you. Your husband hadn’t noticed yet, as he was taking off his boots, but when he stood up, he saw you frozen in place. 

“What’s the matter, pun’kin?” He asked. His pronunciation of pumpkin, the sweet nickname he’d given you years ago when you were still dating. 

His gentle concern was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Immediately, you turned, surging forward into his arms. It caught him by surprise, but he quickly recovered, wrapping you up in his embrace. You melted into a fit of sobs, burying your face against his broad chest. 

“Hey now, I’ve got’ya. Ain’t never gonna let you go.”

His assurance only made you cry harder. You loved him so much. He was so good to you. 

His hand, large and warm, came up to cradle the back of your head, and he slowly rocked from side to side, soothing you with a quiet “shh” as he let you cry. He didn’t inundate you with questions, although he did want to know what had you weeping so brokenly in his arms. It made his heart ache. 

You weren’t sure how long you stood there in the entryway. It could’ve been a few minutes. It could’ve been a whole hour. But the comfort his embrace brought you was welcome. It calmed you down considerably. 

After a while, you finally pulled back, lifting your face from his now tear-soaked shirt. His expression was soft, his lashes fluttering as he lifted his hand to dry what was left of your tears. 

“Somebody make you cry?” He asked. He’d give them what-for if they had. 

“I-it’s just…oh, it’s everything,” you whimpered. “Work sucked today, I felt like I was in fuckin’ purgatory. I don’t…I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

Rhett sighed softly. Seeing you in pain made him feel so powerless. While he knew that he was providing you comfort, he still wished he could take all the hurt away. You didn’t deserve any of it. “I’m sorry.” He leaned in to kiss your forehead. 

And then, “Let me take care of ya. ‘ve already got dinner started. How does a bath sound? I’ll get ya set up and then finish dinner so you can eat.”

“Good,” you whispered, as if you couldn’t find the strength to speak louder.

With a nod, Rhett set to work. “C’mon, let’s get you out of all these layers.”

He began carefully undoing your coat, which he removed from your body and promptly hung on the little coat rack by the door. Then he pulled your hat off your head and placed it on the pegboard that also housed different sets of keys. 

He guided you to sit down on the bench near the shoe organizer, and there, he knelt before you, unlacing your boots. You watched him so tenderly, so reverently, care for you, and again, you felt yourself welling up with tears. 

You hadn’t retained much from the time you’d spent growing up in church, aside from some trauma and a distaste for religion. But one Bible verse in particular popped into your head as you watched your husband remove your shoes. Most men will proclaim every one his own goodness: But a faithful man who can find?

Rhett never asked for anything. He never bragged about himself or his accomplishments. He was good and kind. A little rough around the edges, but he treated you like royalty, and respected you deeply. He was faithful to you, and to the homestead you had built together. He didn’t wander. He didn’t seek intimacy in the arms of another. He was anchored to you, for better or worse. 

And now he was guiding you up the stairs and to the bedroom, his arm secure around your waist, part of him always touching you. Grounding you. He guided you to sit on the bed, leaving a kiss against the top of your head before he sauntered over to the dresser to choose some pajamas for you. 

You were in a haze, brought on by the rush of emotions you had experienced. Sleepy from crying, frazzled from your stress. You were lucky that Rhett was there to help you, because you felt so pathetic and incapable of caring for yourself in this state. You could manage alone if you had to, but you didn’t have to. As long as your husband was around, you’d never have to worry about being alone. 

“You want to wear these, or these?” He asked, holding up a set of Christmas pajamas that were your own, and a pair of sweatpants and one of his Henleys. 

Of course, you chose the sweats and his shirt, because you wanted to be entirely surrounded by everything that was him. 

With your pajamas picked out, he guided you to the bathroom, where he had you sit upon the closed toilet seat while he began filling the tub, making sure the water was the perfect temperature. In the process, he grabbed the little space heater you kept in the bedroom, and he set it up in the corner of the bathroom, to warm up the cold tiles so you wouldn’t catch a chill. 

You smiled fondly at his attentiveness. “I love you,” you spoke. 

He paused, his face softening, his eyes fluttering. “And I love you, pun’kin.” He kissed the top of your head before he motioned for you to stand. There, he began undressing you, and you allowed him to, because you didn’t have the energy to do it yourself. 

After the bath was filled, and the bubbles were in, he guided you into the water. “I’m gonna’ go finish makin’ us dinner, alright?”

But you frowned at that. “No, wan’ you to get in with me.”

“And I’d love to get in with ya, but you haven’t eaten anything since your lunch break, right?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Since 11:30 actually.”

“Uh-huh, exactly. That’s why I’m feedin’ you dinner. Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ my baby starve.” Another kiss was left upon your head. “Just relax and enjoy your bath. I’ll be back in a few to help ya get dressed. Then we can eat.”

That piqued your interest. “Can we watch a holiday movie?” You asked. 

He hummed, a twinkle in his eye. “‘course we can, sweet thing.”

As he turned to leave, you spoke up. “Hey, Rhett?”

In the doorway, he turned. “Hm?”

“Thank you for takin’ care of me.”

He shook his head. “That ain’t somethin’ you need to thank me for. Carin’ for you is my job, and I’m always gonna do it.”

What a man he was. Once he left the room, you found yourself reflecting upon how blessed you were to have him. When you’d first met him, he was a broken man with so much love to give, but no one to bestow it upon, except for his niece. But she wasn’t his child, so he found himself holding back, because even though he didn’t agree with the way his brother parented her, he didn’t want to overstep. 

Of course, he would’ve made a better father to Amy than Perry ever could. But that was neither here nor there. Now, Rhett barely spoke to his brother. For his own well-being, he’d cut ties with Royal and Perry. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he was better now because of it. 

There were behaviors he’d worked hard to unlearn after he entered into a relationship with you. Trouble communicating and processing his emotions was the most glaring issue. Those first few years together were no picnic. You had argued often. All you asked for was for him to be open and honest with you. He bucked against it like an untamed horse. The thought of being exposed and vulnerable in that way terrified him. 

He didn’t want you to see the wounded, ugly parts of him. Didn’t want you to see him cry, because his father had drilled into his head that showing emotion was feminine. Men don’t cry, he’d tell his son. It was simply because he didn’t want to deal with Rhett’s emotional nature. 

Rhett, who had always been a sensitive soul, learned to hide that sensitivity early on. Don’t cry, for fear of being told “I’ll give you somethin’ to cry about.”

In recent years, since Amy was born, Royal had softened a bit. But he was still just as hard on his youngest son. Rhett was the workhorse. The dependable one. The one who would grit his teeth and get the job done without complaining. 

And God forbid if he tried to complain. Royal wasn’t one for physical violence, it just wasn’t in his nature. But when Rhett was seventeen years old, he’d gotten fed up with the verbal lashing from his father. It was the first time he’d really tried to stand up for himself and tell Royal to shove it, in not-so-delicate terms. But it hadn’t ended well. Royal had backhanded Rhett so hard he saw stars, and ended up with a bloody lip. 

The man had felt bad about his reaction, but the thing about Royal Abbott was, he didn’t apologize. It wasn’t in his nature. Rhett couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever heard ‘I’m sorry’ come out of his father’s mouth. 

That moment was what made Rhett realize he couldn’t stay in such a toxic environment. He longed to leave the confines of the Abbott Ranch behind and pave his own way. But that was easier said than done. A sense of responsibility to his family kept him chained down to Wabang. He seemed to be destined to spend the rest of his days as a bull rider, living in his father’s shadow, busting his ass and receiving nothing in return. 

And then he met you. 

You made him believe there was more to life. You made him believe he could chase his dreams and achieve them. You made him believe in himself. 

He had learned so much from you. And through you, he had found freedom. You were the first person, aside from Amy, who’d ever truly believed in him. And here he’d spend the better part of ten years pining after a girl named Maria, who had never and would never return his affection 

He remembered being so glad when she returned to town after being at college for the last few years. He thought maybe things would be different. Maybe she would see him for who he was and finally reciprocate his feelings. 

But all she’d done was string him along and make him feel like shit for never leaving Wabang. In the end, she lost any interest she might’ve had in Rhett, leaving him dejected. 

And then you showed up. You were new in town. Your grandparents had just bought a new house in Florida, but still had yet to successfully sell their ranch. While they transitioned to a new house in a new state, they asked you if you would be willing to stay at their place until it sold. Dissatisfied with your current job and living situation, you agreed. 

Soon, you found yourself in an unfamiliar town in Wyoming, the last place you ever thought you’d be. You got a job through Amelia Elementary School, teaching piano. One of your students was Amy Abbott, and this was how you met her uncle, Rhett. 

You should have known it from the second you saw him. He appeared rough and tumble, but when he introduced himself to you, his eyes, bright and blue, were soft, and you swore you saw the hint of a blush in the apples of his cheeks. 

That was what did you in. There was a softness to him that tugged on your heartstrings. You had Amy twice a week for lessons. Rhett picked her up each time, and you found yourself looking forward to seeing him. 

Over the course of the next few months, he swallowed his fear of rejection and worked up the courage to ask you to go for coffee. Rhett wasn’t a fan of the fancy lattes and whatnot that Two Horns Coffee sold in downtown Wabang, but he’d noticed you often had a coffee cup from the place in hand, and he wanted to take you somewhere you liked. 

That was how he found himself seated in a quaint little cafe that totally wasn’t his style, in favor of getting to know you. That day, you talked for hours, until the coffee shop employees were shooing you out because it was closing time. And after that, you walked through the town and continued talking. 

Rhett wasn’t loud or boisterous or pompous. He was quiet and gentle. He was shy, which surprised you. He seemed so confident, but really, it was all a front. Everyone perceived him a certain way. He was the promiscuous bull rider with a new buckle bunny in his bed every night. 

But that couldn’t be further from the truth. He admitted to you that he hadn’t slept with anyone since Maria a few months ago, and before her, the last time anyone had been in his bed was the night of his 21st birthday. Some girl he barely knew. 

His family’s perception of his promiscuity stemmed from that instance, where Royal had caught the girl sneaking off early in the morning. Since then, Rhett hadn’t been able to live it down. In the minds of his family, he was the man-whoring problem child. 

Rhett never bothered to correct them, because what was the use?

But when you looked at him, you saw him. The real him. Shy and slightly awkward. Fidgety, unable to sit still. Kind and loving. Determined. 

He liked that. He felt seen and heard with you. He never felt like a burden. And because of this, he found himself drawn to you more and more. Soon enough, a romance blossomed between you. While it had its ups and downs, there was no doubt in each other’s minds that this was it. You were bonded for the rest of your lives. 

Your wedding came not long after. An intimate occasion with your closest friends and family. A beautiful ceremony in the mountains. After that, you moved into the home you’d been staying in since you moved to Wabang. As it turned out, your grandparents’ little ranch never sold, which left you and Rhett to move into it. 

You offered to pay in full for it, but your grandparents wouldn’t hear of it, insisting it was your wedding gift. The house did, however, need a lot of renovations, and that was where a lot of your money went. 

Since then, you had turned the house into everything you’d always dreamed of, and you’d started a wholesome life within its walls. 

Here Rhett was, thinking he needed to leave Wabang. But in reality, it wasn’t his hometown that he needed to distance himself from. Miraculously, his mental well-being increased tenfold when he escaped from beneath Royal’s thumb and started living his own life. 

And that was the thing of it, too. Rhett had a purpose here, on your little ranch. He could cultivate that intrinsic need to take care of things. He could take care of the land. He could take care of the animals. The only animals you had were your horse, Marabel, and Rhett’s horse, Esmeralda. But he had hopes of one day opening a horse sanctuary on your land. 

That was his dream. Not professional bull riding, like he’d spent so long trying to convince himself of. He loved horses, and wanted to do everything he could to help the animals that had always meant so much to him. 

He was working toward making that dream a reality. And someday soon, it would be. 

It was amazing to see the difference in him, since he’d started chasing after what he loved. He was no longer a man chained down to a life he didn’t want. He’d found a sense of freedom, and now, he was happier than he’d ever been. 

Yes, he had you to thank for it. But really, the determination to live a better life came from him. You were simply the one that lit the fire beneath him. Now he was a roaring flame, burning brighter than the sun. 

You were so proud of how far he’d come. And he was proud of himself, too. He had every right to be. 

He’d taken his ranch expertise and found a job at a horse ranch just outside of town. This allowed him to continuously be around the animals that he loved, while also making money. The owner was quite well off, and was paying Rhett handsomely. 

For the first time in his life, he was making a steady income, and he could provide for not only himself, but for you as well. You had your own job, and could hold your own, of course. But Rhett liked knowing he could take care of you. And you appreciated it. Coming from a family who’d never uttered so much as a thank you for all he did, it was refreshing to have someone express their unending gratitude for his care. 

Something as simple as making you grilled cheese for dinner made his heart soar, because after a difficult day, you were depending on him to care and provide for you. And he’d be damned if he was going to let you fend for yourself.

Watching you struggle had been hard for him. He hated seeing you in such a state of unrest. The changing of the seasons didn’t help, either. You were always hit with a bad wave of seasonal depression as soon as the clocks fell back. The early darkness made you sad. 

So Rhett did all he could to help you bear that burden. And tonight, he was determined to help you feel better. While you enjoyed your bath, he set to work finishing up dinner preparations. A little while later, with sandwiches at the ready and the living room set up with blankets and pillows, he rejoined you in the bathroom. 

“Hey, pun’kin. Y’ready?” He asked. 

You smiled sleepily at him. “Mhm.” 

So, he began the process of helping you out of the tub. He toweled you off, and then reverently smoothed your favorite lotion onto your skin. You were in a state of bliss as his large, but gentle, hands traveled over your body. He aided you in changing into your pajamas, and then he pulled a pair of cozy socks onto your feet. 

“C’mon now, let’s go eat ‘fore it gets cold.”

With that, he bent to shut off the space heater before he guided you out of the bathroom and down the stairs. When you walked into the living room, you couldn’t help but smile. He’d spread multiple blankets and pillows across the couch, creating a soft, cozy resting place. The fireplace was roaring, the low lights were on, and when you glanced at the window, you saw the snow was now falling in white sheets, making you feel as if you were inside a snow globe.

“Oh, this is perfect,” you whispered. 

Rhett beamed. “Go on, have a seat. I’ll get ya a drink. What do you want? Coke Zero? Some sweet tea?”

“Tea, please!” You quickly replied. One of the things Rhett could make besides grilled cheese was a mean sweet tea. Not too sweet, with just enough tea flavor that it wasn’t overpowering. It was your favorite. 

“Comin’ right up, chickadee.”

As you settled into the soft blankets on the couch, Rhett hurried to grab drinks for both of you. Soon, he was rejoining you, presenting you with a glass of tea, complete with a straw. You thanked him, and he smiled before he set about selecting a holiday movie. The 1947 version of Miracle on 34th Street was his choice, and soon, you were cuddled up together as the opening credits rolled, enjoying your dinner of grilled cheese. 

And just for a little while, things didn’t seem so bad. The harsh reality of life was dulled if only for a time, softened by the sweet delicateness of this moment shared between you. 

After you finished your food, you curled into Rhett’s side, your head on his shoulder. Content, he rested his cheek atop your head. You knew it was inevitable that he’d fall asleep. With a full tummy, and a cozy couch beneath him, he was sure to doze off. Rhett liked to stay busy, so during moments when he wasn’t, such as sitting down to watch a movie, he would almost always fall asleep. Years of being a workin’ man will do that to a body. 

He expected you to fall asleep, too. You’d had such a difficult day, and he was fully prepared to spend the rest of the night asleep on the couch with you. 

However, you were still wide awake as the movie neared the ending. Instead of drowsiness, you were filled with immense gratefulness. Rhett had come home from a long day of working in the cold, and had prepared you dinner and ran you a bath, simply because you’d had a bad day. He didn’t have to do such things, but he wanted to. 

He didn’t expect you to turn cartwheels and thank him in some dramatic way, but as you lay curled against him, you were struck with an idea. Albeit a mischievous one. 

You shifted, moving to glance at him. He was barely awake, his big, round eyes droopy. But then you began to nuzzle against him, kissing his jaw lightly. At first, he didn’t think anything of it. But then, one of your hands worked its way beneath the hem of his shirt, rubbing at the skin there. 

“Your hands are wanderin’,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

“I know,” you replied with a smile. 

“What’re you doin’, girl?” He continued as your hand went toward his chest. 

“Can’t I touch my man?”

“Sure y’can. But with you there’s always some ulterior motive. Little tease.”

He let out the softest of surprised squeaks when you tweaked his nipples, feeling them harden beneath your touch. “Not teasing. Just exploring.” Your lips attached to his jaw again, where you kissed and nipped at the scruffy skin. 

He began to melt beneath you, always a sucker for your loving touch. Your wandering hand trailed down his abdomen, and stopped just above the waistband of his plaid lounge pants. 

“Darlin’…” he warned, as your fingers swirled through the light dusting of hair that led down into his pants. 

“What?” Deft fingers traveled beneath the band of elastic. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath, which pleased you greatly, and gave you easy access. You brushed against the base of his cock, gripping onto it purposefully. He sucked in a breath, his hips jolting.

“Just wanted to thank you,” you hummed against his neck. “Always take such good care of me. Thought I’d take care of you.” 

You stroked him once. Twice. Palm running over silky skin. You longed to feel him grow in your hand. It was so erotic to you. Holding that thick, beautiful cock of his while it swelled to full hardness. 

“Wanna see it,” you spoke again. 

Rhett lifted his hips off the couch and haphazardly pushed his pants down toward his thighs. That was all you needed. His lower half was exposed, just enough for you to free him from the confines. Your mouth watered at the sight, and you languidly ran your hand up and down, resting your head on his chest as you watched him harden. 

God, you wanted to worship him. So that was what you did. 

You turned, moving to trail kisses down his smooth chest, stopping to leave a kiss against the raised scar that sat upon his shoulder. An unfortunate accident with a bull some years back. 

Then you went lower, lower, lower. Hands exploring, lips traveling. Soon, you were kneeling between his strong thighs, gazing up at him. You tugged his pants the rest of the way down, discarding them entirely so you could have uninhibited access. 

“S’pretty,” you hummed, as you admired him. It took him a moment to realize you were talking about his cock. His cheeks turned a shade of pink. But his bashfulness was soon forgotten when you leaned forward and began kissing along the underside of his shaft, from base to tip, offering tentative kitten licks as you went. 

He watched as you rubbed your cheek against him, nuzzling him as you kissed at his sensitive balls. You wanted to take a moment to truly appreciate what was before you. Standing tall and proud, something Rhett had every right to boast about if he wanted. 

But he didn’t. And that was where you came in, talking him up because you loved the way it rendered him speechless and blushing. 

“So big, I don’t know how it even fits inside me,” you mused. And it was the truth. But he was careful when he fucked you, never wanting to hurt you. Of course, that didn’t mean he was gentle. He had his gentle moments when you needed them, but he also had his moments where he fucked you within an inch of your life. You loved the balance. And you loved that he was mindful of what your body could handle. He’d never push you past your limits. Getting you to safeword was not the end goal. He wanted you to be able to enjoy intense scenes, without being pushed too far to the point where it took you out of the moment. 

Together, you had built a steady trust in each other, with boundaries put in place. Even in the midst of those scenes, you felt safe with Rhett. Protected. Even in the throes of intense passion, he was still looking out for you. 

But sometimes, something simple was all you needed. Like now, for instance. Lazily mouthing at his dick, relishing in the sharp saltiness on your tongue, and the deep muskiness that could only be described as Rhett. There was something so manly about it, and it sent a needy ache thrumming through your core. 

Meanwhile, Rhett was blissed out above you, torn between admiring you between his legs, and letting his head fall back against the couch as he relished in the feeling of your warm, wet mouth. Sinful and heavenly all at once. 

After spending time kissing and licking at him, you finally moved to focus on his tip, blushed and glimmering in the low light. Eyes flickering up to meet his hooded gaze, you parted your lips and very slowly began to swirl your tongue around him. Making a show of it, you focused your attention on the slit, tongue flicking back and forth until you were rewarded with a bead of precum, which you eagerly lapped up. 

“Oh, oh darlin’,” he breathed, hands gripping at the blankets beneath him. “You an’ that mouth of yours.”

You hummed around him, closing your lips around the tip and suckling softly before you began inching your way down. Being able to deep-throat him had taken practice. You remembered the way he reacted when you first took all of him. Unbeknownst to him, you’d been using a toy that was roughly the same size as him, training your throat to be able to take him. 

Now you could take him like a champ, and it drove him wild. 

Slowly, slowly, you took more of him, relaxing your throat, until your nose was pressed against the gathering of dark hair around the base. He kept himself neatly groomed, but left just enough behind because he knew how much you loved it. 

“‘at’s it, atta girl,” he graveled, fighting the urge to place his hand atop your head and hold you in place. But he would soon quickly lose that air of dominance to you.

You swallowed around him, which stole the air from his lungs, before you pulled back, kissing at the tip, wet with your spit. As you took a moment to catch your breath, you brought a hand up to toy with his heavy balls. 

“Ha!” He gasped, and you couldn’t help but grin. 

“Sensitive?” You asked. 

“Uh-huh,” he answered. “Ain’t had ‘em played with in a while.”

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, mouth still against the soft skin of his cock. “I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I? Haven’t played with these big sensitive balls. Haven’t milked the cum out of them in so long.”

“F-fuck!” You’d taken him all the way to the hilt again without warning. 

It was true. It had been a while. It had been a crazy few weeks for both of you, and you hadn’t had time to really enjoy each other in the way that you wanted. A few quickies here and there hadn’t satisfied that burning desire you held for one another. 

Rhett didn’t like getting off without you. Sometimes, he would, if he was ever out of town or vice versa. But he much preferred being with you. He craved you. Fantasized about you. Wanted only you. His hand didn’t cut it. Your mouth and pussy were what he wanted. 

And oh, how good your mouth was. You knew exactly how to pleasure him. Knew he loved when you swirled your tongue against the underside of his tip, where he was most sensitive. Knew he couldn’t get enough of your hands on his balls while you took him down your throat. Knew he loved when you rubbed your face all over his dick. 

When you pulled your mouth off of him again, you rubbed the tip all over your lips, kissing softly, humming against him. Then you went back to tonguing the underside, and he gasped sharply, hips jolting. 

You took that opportunity to close your mouth around him and let him slide naturally to the back of your throat again. You used your other hand to massage down his shaft as you pulled back up, never leaving him without a moment of stimulation. 

“Y’ keep doin’ that and I won’t last,” he warned. 

“That’s the idea,” you replied with a smile. 

He moaned softly, letting his head fall back as you swallowed around him. This time, you stayed down longer, gulping as you did, and the sound drove him wild. You were drooling all over him, pulling out all the stops to bring him to the edge. 

And it was working. He was so pent up, and you both knew he wasn’t going to last. He’d begun to tremble, his thighs shaking at either side of your head. His hands clenched and unclenched around the blankets he held. His hips had begun to move of their own volition. 

“You’re squirming,” you teased. 

“Ca-can’t help it,” he stammered. “Your—fuck—your mouth is so g— ah!”

He couldn’t even get the words out. You kept pressing your tongue against that damn spot, knowing it would get him all worked up. He was losing his coherence the longer it went on. Mumbled half phrases, with gasps and whines mixed in. It was so easy to work him up like this. He was always so responsive. 

Interestingly enough, he hadn’t always been like this. In the beginning, he’d been more reserved. He was shy about the sounds he made. Ashamed of his whines and whimpers. He was holding back, and you could tell. So, little by little, you encouraged him to be more vocal. 

“Wanna hear you. Wanna know it feels good for you,” you’d told him, and he hadn’t really thought of it that way. As much as he loved hearing you and knowing he was making you feel good, he realized you also wanted the same thing from him. 

It took him a little while to feel confident enough to freely make those sounds of pleasure, but once he finally got past that hurdle, you couldn’t shut him up if you tried. Not that you wanted to, either. 

There was something about this man of few words being unable to remain silent that really got to you. You’d expected him to be all gravelly grunts and groans. And he was. But he whimpered, too. A lot. Especially when you got him feeling really good. 

He was so easy to rile up. Whether he was assuming the dominant or submissive role, or just simply making love to you with no kinky games involved. Get him close to orgasm, and sounds would pour from his throat uncontrollably. 

Like now, for instance. He was so beautiful this way. His whole body trembling, his eyes rolling back, his mouth open to let out unsteady gasps. You loved how you could reduce him to such a state. This strong, steady man, who’d just so tenderly taken care of you, was now trying to hold it together so he wouldn’t come too soon. 

But you wanted it. “Nuh-uh, don’t you hold back,” you told him. 

He took a shuddering breath. “Honey…”

“C’mon,” you coaxed, wrapping your fingers around him and stroking quickly. “Know you wanna come in my mouth, wanna watch me swallow all of it.”

And oh, he did. One thing about Rhett was that he loved watching you take his cum. Whether it be smeared across your pretty face, painted onto your chest, dripping out of your pussy, or in your mouth. 

Right now, you wanted it in your mouth. And you were determined to get it. Keeping your tongue right against his tip, you tightened your grip on him only slightly, moving your hand with purpose. Your other hand was at his balls again, massaging in time with the hand on his shaft. 

His eyes swam with unshed tears, and he gritted his teeth, breathing harshly through his nose. Warmth was beginning to crackle to life at the base of his spine, as if you’d just lit a fuse. 

You pulled out all the stops, taking him to the hilt again before you resumed that pleasurable torture against his tip. Alternating back and forth, bringing him closer and closer and closer to the edge, watching through hooded eyes as he lost himself, chest heaving, body trembling. 

“C-close,” he gasped. 

“Come down my throat,” you urged, before you placed his cock against your tongue, stroking hard and fast as you brought him toward his end. 

Rhett gazed down at you, and you caught his eye, your face pleading as you eagerly awaited his load. He could barely take the sight, and he threw his head back, groaning deeply. “F-fuck, darlin’, I’m—”

And then he whined. Keening high in his chest, his hips shunted forward. You could feel him pulse beneath your touch, and in an instant, you closed your mouth around him, creating a seal so that nothing would escape. You took all he had to give, swallowing every last drop of his seed like the good girl you were, all while he gasped and whined and softly sobbed above you. 

As he came down, he twitched in your mouth, the sensitivity mounting. He hissed as you pulled off his cock, sucking any remnants of cum from his skin before you released the softening shaft. You pressed a gently kiss to the tip before you innocently looked up at him.

Breathlessly, he swore. “Get up here,” he murmured, and you smiled, climbing up into his lap. He searched for your lips, and you kissed him, letting him taste himself on your tongue. “Mm, nearly sucked m’ soul outta me,” he teased.

“That was the idea,” you said with a giggle. 

He leaned in to kiss you again. His eyes were droopy, sleepiness evident in his features. “Should return the favor,” he continued when he broke the kiss, but you shook your head. 

“Uh-uh, that was my way of thanking you for taking care of me. We’re even.”

“But I wan’...” he paused to yawn, “wan’ make you feel good, too.”

“Tomorrow,” you promised. “For now, let’s just rest.” Another kiss was pressed to his lips before you reluctantly slid off him to retrieve his pants from the floor. You had just enough time to pull them onto his body before he had fallen asleep.

Lovingly, you brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead before you settled down beside him, pulling the blanket over you both. “I love you, cowboy,” you whispered, as you nestled yourself against his side. How grateful you were for him. This good and kind man was all yours. You silently thanked the universe for giving him to you.

And sure enough, the next morning, you woke to his head between your thighs, sending you to a place of absolute, unadulterated bliss. 

Yes, you were thankful for him indeed. 

-

taglist:

@withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @ryebecca @up-thereinthesky @oldfangirl30 @peachystenbrough @attapullman @auroralightsthesky @sebsxphia @delopsia @damrlova @hangmanapologist @lovinglyeternal @laracrofted @callsign-magnolia @callsignspark @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @nobody7102 @milesmillergf @idontcare-11 @theliterarybeldam @yanna-banana @floydsglasses @whisperofsong @1-800-floyd @floydsmuse @cruel-winter-nights @goldenseresinretriever @keep-on-burnin @happyrebelruins @bamfkurt @swiftsgirlfriend @virgo-wonder @seitmai-too @bradshawsbaby @bradshawsbitch

[arcane-vagabond]

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Six

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Six

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Language, Murder, Flirty Bradley, Mean Girl Mandy, Dry humping, Kissing, Possessive Jake, Skipper having a mental breakdown of sorts.

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: I'm on a roll, y'all, but just know that a lot of this chapter was just pure self indulgence. If you're feeling kind/generous, please consider buying me a ko-fi! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond where I also post my updates!

Series Masterlist

The rest of the night had been a blur, your head fuzzy from your encounter on the beach. Javy and Nat had kept a close eye on you after you almost walked into the water, making sure you stayed close. The rest of the gang had checked in on you, Bob wanting to take you back home, but you had insisted that you were staying, not wanting to ruin his night. You had caused enough trouble.

Your eyes had been unfocused as you stared down at the sand, vaguely aware of everyone laughing and having a good time. Your mind felt slow, your body sluggish as you sat by the fire. Your arms were wrapped firmly around your knees where they were pressed up against you.

You jumped when someone plopped down next to you, and your eyes widened as they took in Jake’s form. He sat cross legged, back straight as he gazed into the fire.

“You’re not nearly as good at pretending as you think you are,” he murmured, peeking at you from the corner of his eye. You felt your cheeks flush as you looked away from him.

“I don’t want them to worry.”

“It’s a little late for that, I think,” he murmured, a humorless chuckle escaping him. You squeezed your knees tighter, attempting to make yourself smaller as the guilt ate away at you.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you admitted quietly, feeling Jake’s stare on the side of your face. “I’m not usually like this, I swear.”

“I believe you,” he told you gently, earnestly. “No one here blames you for anything, Skipper.”

“They deserve to have fun,” you muttered miserably, feeling the tears prickle at your eyes. “They shouldn’t have to worry about me and whether or not I’m going to pass out or drown at every turn.”

“Trust me,” he said, turning to face you, “everyone here is having fun, and they like hanging out with you. If they didn’t, then they wouldn’t be worried in the first place.”

“Yeah?” You whispered, looking at him with uncertain eyes. He gave you a soft smile, nodding.

“Promise.”

Bob had come to collect you shortly after, the smell of beer on his breath as he dragged you to your feet, insisting that he was tired and that it was time to go home. You had given Jake a small smile before following him back home, Mickey making sure the two of you got there in one piece.

Now, you sat on the end of the couch in Bradley and Jake’s living room, the group somber as the news from earlier that morning hung in the air.

Another body had been found, a young woman who had been visiting her family on the island. She had been at the bonfire the night before, and you remembered seeing her briefly. Her body had been found in the early hours of the morning, and the police had told reporters that they were investigating all angles, meaning that despite the apparent murder spree, there had been alcohol in her system and they weren’t sure yet if she had been the victim of a freak accident or a murder.

“Mav won’t tell me much,” Bradley said, scratching his chin. “But he told me they think it’s connected to the others, even with all the beer she drank.”

“Should he really be telling you all of that?” Reuben asked, an incredulous look on his face. “I know he’s your godfather and all, but still.”

Bradley shrugged, seemingly nonplussed at the idea.

“We should go out and do something,” Nat suggested, looking around at everyone. “I don’t want to sit here and think about this all day. We need to go and get our minds off it.”

“And do what, exactly?” Mickey drawled, raising an eyebrow at her.

“We could go to the boardwalk?” Javy suggested, looking around at everyone as Mickey let out a groan.

“Again?” He asked. “There’s only so many times I can ride the coaster before it stops becoming fun.”

“Then ride something else,” Nat snarked, rolling her eyes.

“I think the boardwalk sounds like fun,” you smiled. “We could go swimming after? It would be a shame to waste the day inside.”

“I agree,” Jake nodded beside you, barely letting your mouth close before doing so. “Skipper makes a good point.”

“I’m sure she does,” Reuben snorted. You saw Jake frown at the other man as Mickey and Bob both tried to disguise their laughter with coughs.

“I’ll do whatever,” Bradley chimed in, looking more bored than anything. “Just so long as I don’t have to keep sitting here.”

“Wait,” Bob said, brow furrowing. “Isn’t the ocean dance festival tonight?”

Nat let out a groan as Mickey wrinkled his nose.

“They’re still doing that with everything going on?” He asked.

“Damn, I completely forgot about that,” Nat muttered, checking the time on her phone. She looked up at you, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Skipper, you didn’t happen to pack a fancy dress or anything, did you?”

“No?” You said slowly, regarding her carefully. She blew out a breath, nodding.

“Didn’t think so,” she muttered, moving to stand. “Well, you boys will have to have fun without us. Skipper and I have some shopping to do.”

“What?” You asked, eyes widening as Nat pulled you to your feet.

She chuckled. “We have to go get you a dress for tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Reuben laughed, “the ocean dance festival is the one event all the girls in town look forward to. It’s an excuse for them to get all dressed up in pretty, fancy dresses and elaborate makeup while the rest of us try to decide which shirt is nice enough for us to pair with our jeans.”

“Ignore him,” she scowled, turning her attention back to you with an excited look. “It’s a lot of fun, Skipper. You gotta come!”

“I don’t know,” you trailed off, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth. “I don’t even think I have enough to buy a fancy dress…”

“I’ll get one for you,” she said, raising her hand as you moved to protest. “Please, call it a ‘welcome to the island’ gift.”

“Also known as ‘Nat hasn’t gotten to play dress up with anyone in God only knows how long,’” Bradley joked, earning a glare from the brunette. Nat turned her pleading gaze to you, and you felt your resolve crumple.

“Alright,” you sighed. “Fine.”

An hour later you had a dress in your hands, Natasha still gushing about it beside you.

“You look so pretty in it, Skipper!” She exclaimed, mouth curved into an infectious grin, excitement radiating off of her in waves. “You’re going to be the talk of the town!”

“I highly doubt that, Nat,” you giggled.

“Trust me,” she chuckled, wiggling her eyebrows at you, “no one will be able to keep their eyes off of you once I’m through.”

You shook your head, not able to keep the amused smile off your face as the two of you made your way down the boardwalk. Several people were decorating a roped off area. Balloons, streamers, and ocean themed decorations littered the area, a stage sitting off to the side where a group of musicians were setting up their equipment.

“They really go all out for this dance, huh?” You mused, and Nat nodded.

“It’s been a part of the summer festivals since the town was founded. The city council and founding daughter’s group goes all out, which is the biggest reason why it wasn’t cancelled this year,” she explained. You hummed, eyes drifting to the familiar shop sign, and your eyes lit up.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, grabbing her hand. “Can we go in here really quick? There was something I wanted to get.”

“Mrs. Cambroni’s shop?” Nat frowned. “What could you possibly need from in here?”

“You’ll see,” you smiled. “Come on!”

The bell chimed as the two of you stepped in, and you greeted the old woman behind the counter with a smile. A handsome man stood with her, his eyes trained on the two of you, and you couldn’t help but feel like you had seen him somewhere before. His mocha skin had an underlying gold tone to it, dark hair cropped short. His dark, green eyes sent a shiver up your spine as he watched you.

“Good morning, dear!” Mrs. Cambroni greeted. “Back so soon?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I’m actually looking for something, and I wondered if you might have it.”

“I’ll bet you anything she does,” the man chuckled. “My aunt has almost everything under the sun here in her little shop.”

“Oh, how rude of me,” Mrs. Cambroni muttered. “This is my nephew, Cole. He’s in from out of town. Natasha, dear, you remember Cole, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, shooting him a small wave. “It’s good to see you again!”

“Likewise,” he hummed, eyes darting back to you. “And you are?”

“Oh, sorry,” you blushed. “I’m Skipper.”

He chuckled once more. “That’s an unusual name.”

“It’s a nickname,” you murmured, ducking your head out of embarrassment. “It’s just what everyone calls me.”

“What was it you were looking for, dear?” Mrs. Cambroni asked you. “Was it something for the festival tonight?”

“Sort of,” you started, moving forward and digging in your bag. You pulled out the large, black pearl, showing it to her. “I was hoping you’d have something for me to put this in so I could wear it.”

“I have just the thing,” she smiled, rounding the corner of the counter as she darted off to one of the far corners of the shop.

“Will we see you at the festival tonight, Cole?” Nat asked him, moving to stand next to you. Cole laughed lightly, ducking his head down before looking back up at her.

“I might make an appearance, yeah. It’ll be nice to see some familiar faces again.”

“You’re from here?” You asked him. He nodded.

“Grew up here before deciding to go to school down south. I live there full time now, but figured I’d come up and visit with my aunt for the summer.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you,” you grinned. Your grin faded as the nagging feeling in the back of your head grew louder. You knew him, you were sure of it. “I’m so sorry, but have we met?”

He grinned at you. “Not officially, but you did bump into me the other day over by the tilt-o-whirl.”

“Oh,” you balked. His words sank in, and you felt your skin flush as embarrassment washed over you. “Oh. Oh my god. I’m so sorry!”

“It’s all water under the bridge,” he said, waving you off. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen victim to that damn thing myself.”

You smiled at his words, feeling the tension lift from your shoulders.

At that moment, Mrs. Cambroni came walking back over, a golden chain dangling from her hand. It was beautiful, the chain holding a collection of smaller ones that held a cradle for a pearl to rest in, practically forming a raindrop. The old woman held her hand out, and you placed the black pearl gently in her outstretched palm. She fiddled with the necklace before showing it to you proudly.

“Turn around, dear, and I’ll put it on you.”

You did as instructed, moving your hair to give her easy access. Once she was done, she gestured towards the mirror that rested on top of the counter.

“Have a look!” She smiled. You did so, marveling at how the pendant rested perfectly just above the curves of your breasts.

“It’s perfect!” You gushed, looking over at her. She returned your smile warmly resting a hand against the counter.

“You know,” she began, a knowing glint in her eye. “The ocean dance festival has a longstanding tradition in this town as being a way for sea people to gain the attention of a potential mate.”

You could practically feel Natasha’s eye roll as you looked at the old woman, eager to hear more.

“It was a festival where potential mates dressed up in their best clothing to attract attention. Boys and girls alike dressed in elaborate costumes to showcase their assets,” she hummed as you paid for the necklace. “But, I suppose now it’s just an excuse for young ladies like yourself to get all dolled up for an evening of fun.”

“We have a friend who said something similar, actually,” you giggled. Mrs. Cambroni smiled, and Natasha grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the door.

“Well, it’s been fun, Mrs. Cambroni, but we only have so much time to get ready before the festival starts. It was good to see you, Cole!” she called over her shoulder as she walked through the door.

“Why do you keep doing that?” You scowled at her as she dragged you down the street and towards her house.

“Because Cambroni is a nut,” she retorted, sparing you a glance from over her shoulder. “And you should take everything she says with a grain of salt. Besides, I wasn’t kidding. We only have so long before the festival starts, and while I am skilled at what I do, I need all the time I can get to get us both ready.”

Five hours later, and you found yourself standing on the boardwalk once again, fingers fidgeting with the green tulle of your dress. Nat had done an amazing job, not that you were surprised. The dress she had picked out for you was a beautiful sage green, puffy sleeves hanging off the shoulder as they met at the sweetheart neckline. Your new necklace hung just above your cleavage, and your makeup was simple, more natural looking than her own. She had kept it light, forgoing much of the costume vibes that other girls had seemingly gone for. Your eyes were dusted in a gold powder along with the edges of your lips, tiny pearls scattering the edges of your eyes. She had smeared some of the gold dust along your neck as well as your shoulders and collarbone, nothing to ostentatious, but just enough to draw attention to the skin there.

Nat herself looked absolutely stunning. Her red dress was strapless, a bunch of fabric folded on her hip to give the appearance of a rose bloom. Red eyeshadow creeping up her temples, and she had chosen a dark red lipstick to complete the look. She was beautiful, and she carried herself with confidence.

“Where are those idiots,” Nat muttered to herself, typing away at her phone as she attempted to track down the rest of your friends. A low whistle had the two of you turning, seeing Bradley with a wide grin on his face as he looked at the two of you along with the rest of the boys.

“Well, don’t you two clean up nice,” he hummed, eyes taking you both in appreciatively, causing heat to rise to your cheeks. Nat frowned at him, giving him a once over, taking in his jean shorts and Hawaiian shirt.

“Did you even try?” She asked him.

“The ladies love me for what I offer, Natasha,” he retorted with a wistful sigh as he shoved his hands his pockets.

“And what is that? An eighties porno stache and a collection of bargain bin dad shirts?” She threw back, causing snickers to float around your little group. Bradley took it in stride, smiling lazily at her as he shot you a wink.

“She’s just mad because she doesn’t look as good as we do, Skipper,” he whispered to you conspiratorially, causing you to giggle.

“Keep dreaming, Bradshaw,” Nat laughed, eyes peeking over at Javy who looked at her fondly. You smiled at the sight, eyes drifting over the group before they landed on those oh so familiar green ones.

Jake’s eyes bore into you, drinking you in, and you suddenly felt self conscious under his gaze. You smiled at him shyly, and you saw his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly.

“You look great, Skip!” Bob chirped as he popped up beside you. You broke eye contact with Jake to smile up at your best friend.

“Thanks!” You said, giving him a once over and cocking an eyebrow. “Did your mom make you wear that?”

“That obvious, huh?” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Only a little,” you giggled.

“Man, I’m starving!” Mickey groaned. “Let’s go get some food!”

He moved towards the growing crowd as the rest of you followed suit. Jake fell in step next to you, eyes still watching you.

“You look nice, too,” you whispered, watching as a dusting of pink made its way onto his cheeks. He smiled warmly at you.

“Not as nice as you do,” he murmured. You felt yourself preen at his words, pushing your shoulders back slightly. Jakes eyes darted down, widening at the sight of your pendant. He looked like he was about to say something, but a voice cut him off.

“Jake!”

The two of you turned to see an older woman, maybe in her late forties, waving at him. Her blonde hair was piled intricately in an updo, her white dress glowing in the setting sun. Jake smiled at her before looking back at you, gesturing for you to follow him.

She was even more beautiful up close, smile lines evident on her face as her eyes darted between the two of you, a question in her green eyes.

“Hey, mom,” Jake greeted her, wrapping her in a hug. “Wasn’t expecting to see you so early in the night. Where’s Dad?”

“Oh, your father wanted to wrap some things up at the office,” she chuckled, eyes trained on you as she spoke, a kind smile on her red lips. “Who might this be?”

“Mom, this is Skipper,” he said, smiling down at you softly. “Skipper, this is my mom, Nicola.”

“Please, honey. Call me Nikki,” she hummed at you, eyeing your neck. “My, don’t you look a vision tonight?”

“Oh, thank you,” you blushed. “I love your dress.”

“This old thing?” She scoffed, smiling warmly. “I’ve worn this dress to this festival for the past five years. I’ve been meaning to go out and get a new one, but who has the time?”

“Mom is one of the main people who plans this festival,” Jake explained.

“It’s always been my favorite,” she sighed, eyes growing hazy as she lost herself in thought. “It’s where your father and I became exclusive, you know.”

“Oh, like those stories,” you said. Nikki’s eyes looked at you curiously, and you felt yourself blush once again. “Mrs. Cambroni was telling me about the origin of the festival this morning.”

“Goodness, that woman certainly loves to meddle, doesn’t she?” Nikki hummed. Her attention was drawn away from you as a figure joined you.

“Hi, Nikki,” Mandy drawled, a tight smile on her face.

Nikki smiled warmly at her, taking in her appearance. Mandy wore a dark blue dress that hung off her shoulders, the neckline dipping dangerously low as the rest of the material clung to her every curve. Her eyes were painted in dark blue powder with gold accents, her lips a ruby red. She looked perfect.

“Hi, honey!” Nikki chirped. “You look…nice this evening!”

“Thank you,” Mandy smirked, eyes darting over to look at Jake, a frown on his lips. “I had this dress custom ordered for the occassion.”

“Mandy, do you know Skipper?”

Mandy glanced at you, smirk turning cruel as she took you in.

“Well,” she chuckled. “Looks like you clean up well after all. What a lovely surprise.”

You felt a wave of embarrassment roll over you, eyes darting around to try and find an exit from the suddenly tense conversation. Nikki seemed to notice the shift as well, and she frowned, eyes peering at Mandy who seemed none the wiser. The brunette turned to Jake with a smile as the band began to play.

“Jake, you’ll dance with me, won’t you?” She asked him, batting her eyelashes. You weren’t a jealous person, and you especially weren’t when it came to someone you weren’t dating. That’s why it came as a surprise to you when anger rose up in your throat at the way she looked at him, the mark on your neck pulsing. Mine, it said.

You were briefly aware of the smirk that adorned Nikki’s lips before she turned to Mandy.

“Actually, honey,” she interjected, “I was hoping you could come help me with something.”

Mandy gritted her teeth but offered the older woman a tight smile. “Of course.”

Nikki gestured for the brunette to follow, casting one last look over her shoulder at you, eyes shining mischeivously before disappearing into the crows. Jake let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair nervously before looking over at you.

“Do you,” he started, shifting from one foot to the other. “Do you want to dance with me?”

Your eyes met his green ones, shining with anticipation.

“I would love to,” you said softly. Jake beamed, moving to rest a gentle hand on the small of your back as he guided you towards the dancefloor. Several other couples swayed with the music, and you grinned when you saw Javy and Nat across the way, Nat’s head resting against his chest as he held her gently.

Your attention was torn away as Jake’s hands moved to rest on your hips, and you placed your arms around his neck. The air around you seemed to buzz with a pleasant warmth, the warmth of his hands causing heat to spread through you.

“Your mom is nice,” you commented in an attempt to distract yourself from the all consuming feeling as the two of you began to move with the music.

“She is,” he agreed, smiling down at you fondly. “She likes you, too.”

“How do you know that?” You asked him with a chuckle.

“She wouldn’t have dragged Mandy away if she didn’t,” he surmised, thumb stroking along your hip, sending a shiver up your spine.

“I thought she liked Mandy?”

“She does,” Jake replied. “In her own way. She knows Mandy can be…difficult.”

You hummed. “Then why did she want you to be with her?”

Jake sucked in a breath, lips forming a grimace as he answered. “Her and Mandy’s mom have been friends since they were in diapers. Their dream was for their kids to one day end up together, getting married and growing old. We come from two very prominant families, and it was an added bonus that us being together would help present a picture perfect ideal to everyone else. It was perfect.”

You noted the sense of bitterness his tone took on as he spoke, and your thumb brushed softly against the nape of his neck, causing him to suck in a small breath and tighten his hold on your waist ever so slightly.

“But?” You asked him, and he sighed.

“But, I wasn’t happy,” he admitted, his gaze meeting yours. “I love my parents, but their dream wasn’t mine. I’ve only ever wanted to make them happy, and if it meant putting my own happiness on the backburner, then I was willing to do that.

“And now?” You whispered, the two of you slowing to a stop as the song ended. Jake’s hands still gripped you tightly, no sign of letting go as he stared at you.

“Now,” he said slowly, “I think I’ve changed my mind.”

The two of you stood in the middle of the dancefloor as the band moved into the next song, the couples around you beginning to move again. You suddenly felt too warm, and Jake must have noticed your change in demeanor because he pulled away from you, hand gripping your left one as he dragged you away from the crowd. You let him lead you through the throng of people, and you noticed Mickey, Reuben, and Bob chatting with Mrs. Cambroni and Cole, all of them laughing amongst each other. Mrs. Cambroni caught your eye and shot you a wink as she sipped from her glass. You saw Bradley, Javy, and Nat laughing not too far away, but it was the cold, calculating blue eyes that cut through the warmth that surrounded you.

Mandy watched as the two of you maneuvered through the crowd. She disappeared from sight as Jake rounded the stage, the wall blocking most of the sound as he led you further down the otherwise deserted boardwalk. The music faded as the two of you kept walking, and finally Jake came to a hault. He turned, hands grasping your waist as he lefted you onto the railing, making sure you were comfortable before stepping in to the space where your thighs were parted. His hands remained on your waist as he gazed up at you.

“Feel better?” He asked you.

“Much,” you answered, smiling softly at him. “Thank you.”

Jake hummed as his hands made small strokes up and down your waist. The two of you remained silent, just enjoying the moment.

“The others said you didn’t feel like you had options before,” you hummed quietly, eyes darting up to meet his. “I’ve been wondering what they meant by that.”

Jake didn’t say anything, eyes searching yours before slowly leaning in. You felt his warm breath fan over your face, and your heartbeat quickened in your chest. He paused, eyes hooded as he watched you, watched the way your chest heaved at his close proximity, watched as your eyes begged and pleaded with him to close the gap, but still he waited.

You let out a strangled cry as the feeling of having him so close became too much, and you surged forward, pressing your lips against his. You felt like you were melting from the inside out as your lips molded against his, and Jake let out a pleasured groan, hands pulling you closer to him as his body molded into yours. You gasped as your thighs parted even more, allowing him to press his knee into your core. Jake took advantage of this, licking into your mouth with languid thrusts that matched the slow rhythm of his thigh as it grinded against you. Your hands flew to his hair, tugging on the blond locks in a way that had him moaning into your mouth. You ground your hips down experimentally onto him, earning a groan as he pulled away from you, nipping on your bottom lip before placing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Such a good girl,” he moaned, lips placing hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw before moving down your neck. You tilted your head to the side, offering him more access to which he eagerly took advantage of. You let out a whimper as his lips brushed the nape of your neck, a smirk forming on his lips as he began to bite and suck on the skin there, leaving behind what was sure to be a sizeable hickey.

“Jake,” you whispered breathlessly, hips still grinding down on him. His hands glided up the expanse of your body, his right hand cupping your breast and squeezing. You threw your head back, crying out in ecstasy.

“So pretty like this, baby,” he rasped, thrusting his hips up into your clothed core. “Think you can come like this? Wish you could see yourself. See how hot you look as you’re about to come just from grinding down on me.”

Your eyes were hooded as you looked at him, silently begging him to make you come. His eyes glowed in the low light, the sun having already disappeared beneath the horizon. Jake pressed a tender kiss to your lips, and you brought a hand down to his jaw to keep him there. He pulled back slightly, one of his strong hands on your waist as he guided you over his thigh.

“So beautiful,” he murmured as he watched you, a hypnotic lilt to his tone as he drank in the sight of you, fucked out and at his mercy. “And all mine. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded vigorously, words escaping you, but Jake shook his head.

“Say it,” he groaned, “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you sobbed, your high so close as you rubbed yourself furiously down onto him. Jake’s eyes danced in delight, a smirk on his lips as he watched you use him for your own pleasure. But then the smirk dropped and his eyes flashed dangerously as he pulled away. You mewled at the loss of contact, reaching out fo him. He took you in his arms, spinning you so that you were pressed behind him, and you were vaguely aware of the sound of a snarl as your head whirled around you. The intense warmth spreading through you was drenched with an ice cold feeling as a familiar cry rang out in the night.

The song was beautiful, higher pitched than the others you had heard previously, sending a mix of terror and a need to obey running through you. You made to move, but Jake’s arms held you firm. The song called to you again and you felt tears spring to your eyes at the conflicting feelings inside you. You’re breath came out shaky, and Jake turned to look at you. He grabbed your shoulders gently, green eyes boring into yours desperately.

“Skipper,” he crooned, a hand reaching up to cradle your cheek. “Listen to me.”

You wanted to, but the song still called to you, warring with the one coming from Jake as he continued.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he cooed, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “Stay with me. Be my good girl. ”

Your eyes darted back and forth between him and the water where the song called for you to follow. A sob wracked your body as you through yourself into Jake, arms wrapping around him as you buried your face into his neck. He shushed you, rubbing at your back gently, and you were vaguely aware of the sound of your friends joining you. A warm hand rested on your upper arm like the person was going to pull you away, and you let out a desperate cry, clinging to Jake with all your strength as he let out a snarl. You paid no mind to the conversation around you as Jake held you to him, still cooing a song into your ears. You weren’t sure when exactly the other song ended, but you began to relax somewhat in Jake’s hold. You slowly came to, just as Bradley heaved out a sigh.

“Yeah, she’s staying with us tonight.”

[chiriwritesstuff]

Meet Me at the Farmers Market! - 1. Jealousy, Jealousy

Farmers Market! Joel Miller x Confident! Plus Sized F! Florist Reader

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: What does a Contractor do in his spare time? Sell his wood carvings at the Saturday Farmers Market, of course! A Grumpy x Sunshine Joel Miller series collective of one shots, Updates every Saturday!

Rating: M

Word Count: 1063

Warnings: Jealous! Joel Miller, Tommy is a meddling little shit, Reader likes to ogle her too-hot market neighbor (I mean, who wouldn't?!) no outbreak! Verse Joel Miller, everyone has asses that just. Don't. QUIT!!!!

Summary: Tommy thinks y'all should stop dancing around your feelings for each other and just date already.

A/N: Hello there!

This is completely a self-indulgent fic! I was completely blown away by all of the interest in this series, and I want to thank every single one of you who has liked and reblogged my series masterlist so far!

This isn't going to be in a linear format or have continuous chapters, but will be more of a short-story format between the lives of Joel and his Sunflower. Hope you all enjoy!

Divider by the lovely @saradika

"You know, I think you guys should date."

As Tommy helps you unload a basket of baby's breath from your van, you look at him and ask, "Is that right? Pray tell, Thomas Miller, Why do you think that?"

"Well, for starters, you're crazy about him," he replies, waggling his eyebrows. "I can see how you stare at him like he's the finest cut of meat at Whole Foods. I should get you a drip cloth for all that drooling you be doing," he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest.

You roll your eyes and shove a bucket of single-stemmed roses into his chest. "Oh please. I think it's more concerning that you just compared your brother to a piece of meat," you say as you place a checkered tablecloth on your foldable table, preparing for the morning market.

"His head is definitely full of it," he laughs. "Besides, I think he's crazy for you too."

You laugh and reply, "All he does is complain that my tent is encroaching on his 'walk space' and how my bouquets attract all the bees. I don't think he's said one nice thing to me since I started vending at the market."

"Don't you know that the more you hate, the more you love?" he teases. "I know my brother," Tommy says, motioning towards your grumpy, yet attractive, next-door vendor. Joel, in his green flannel and almost too-tight jeans, it's criminal, really, how nice his ass looks in them - finally acknowledges the two of you with a roll of his eyes.

"Tommy," Joel yells across the way, "I could use some help, once you're done flirting with little miss Sunflower over there," he says, placing his crate on his table with a little more force, mumbling to himself as he calls for Sarah.

"See? He's jealous. Thinks I have the hots for you," Tommy appraises your form, whistling. "I might have mentioned how you looked really nice last week, you know, in your denim cut-offs. And he might have mentioned that you had an - and I quote - ass that just doesn't quit."

"He did not!" you reply as you playfully whack his arm with a towel. "Come on, help me with this sign so you can go back to Mr. Grumpy Butt over there. Wouldn't want him grumbling about how I stole his brother…"

"He's a big boy, he can manage. He only has those little critters that he carves, and you have buckets of flowers. I'd like to think that my services are better utilized here, don't you think? I mean, look at him!" Tommy motions to Joel, who has stopped setting up his stand and is openly glaring at the both of you, his hands clenched and knuckles turning white. "I'm doing you a favor, honey bee. He's just shy under all of that grumpy ass attitude. Just ask him out, see where it goes." Tommy crinkles his eyes at you as he pats you on your head.

You swear you see Joel looking at the both of you as Tommy winks at you and heads back to his 'Reclaiming Miller' stand.

"What kind of a business name is that?" you think to yourself, chuckling as you close the doors of your van.

Later, as the market comes to a close and you place the final empty bucket into your van, you walk over to Joel's 'Reclaiming Miller' stand as he folds a tablecloth.

"Do you need a hand?" you ask sweetly.

"I got it," he replies with a grunt, dismantling his fold-up table and propping it against his truck. "It's funny," he adds, glaring at you, "that Tommy is nowhere to be found when I need help but magically appears once your van rolls in," he shakes his head. "Why don't you put him out of his misery and just ask him out?"

"… sounds like you're jealous, Mr. 'Reclaiming Miller'."

"Trust me, I'm not," he replies, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel as he tries to accommodate the Texas heat. You try very hard not to ogle the veins that run down his arms, swallowing as you try to remain indifferent to the very hot, grumpy man in front of you. You had a crush on Joel ever since you started the Saturday markets, approaching your new neighbor with a small bonsai tree as you introduced yourself. He took it from your hands carefully, inspecting it with a bit of wonder in his eyes. "Your tent is three inches off from your marker, by the way," he replies as he places the bonsai off to the side of his display table. "You might want to get that checked out, don't want to get a fine or anything like that." You decide then that he's one of those vendors, the ones who are sticklers for the rules and complete nightmares to those around them, but yet…

He is rather nice to look at, you think.

"… why would I ask someone I'm not interested in out on a date, Joel?" you reply, approaching him. "I mean, he did tell me that you thought I had an 'ass that just doesn't quit'," you say in his ear, tiptoeing up to his broad form, "is that what you really think, Miller?" you tease, his Adam's apple bobbing. "What if I want to ask you out? What would you say? Would you say yes? Because I think I would like that if you did."

But then, to your surprise, he smiles.

"… I thought we already got past dating, Sunflower," he replies as he kisses you, soft and sweet. His hands grab your hips as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. His hands travel to your ass, squeezing them as he groans into your kiss.

"Besides," he adds, "You know damn well how much I appreciate this ass." He winks, slapping it for good measure.

“Yeah, yeah, Miller. I'll see you at my place later?” you say as you head over to your van. “It's your turn to choose the movie tonight, if it's a good one you might just get laid” you tease.

“Oh baby girl, I'll get mine regardless, don't you worry,” he replies hungrily, waving as he enters his truck. “You just wear that thing I like, and I'll make it worth your while, promise.”

“You better!”

[sungbeam]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭

nonidol!wen junhui x f!reader

you don't have to love me; you just have to not hate me.

2.1k words, fluff/minor angst?, historical-adjacent romance (NOT HISTORICALLY ACCURATE), general!jun, arranged marriage au, mention of wine and food, est. relationship, it's like... kind of soft?, mentions of not consummating the marriage, barely proofread

a/n: this will prob be the last thing you see from me until i finish finals in the coming week or so :') wish me luck, and hope y'all enjoy this low-key self-indulgent drabble

You loathed pretense. It was partly why you dreaded any interaction at court, and why you abhorred your very purpose as a woman born into a world of men. Your purpose was to be sold to the highest seat at the table, and it just so happened to be the General of the North.  

There were plenty of daughters of noble families who looked upon you with envy; this promotion was the next best thing to becoming the consort or concubine to a royal. One of the five high generals of the empire was a score and should never be taken lightly. 

But it was dreadfully lonely. 

You should have been more grateful, you thought as your servants combed through your hair, soaked your body in rose petals ported from far west. You should have been more grateful, you thought as they dressed you in fine silks from the southern shores of the empire, embroidered in the most exquisite gold threading and crystal beads. You should have been more grateful, you thought as the doors to the dining hall slid open and you bowed in greeting to the man seated at the head of the table. 

“Husband,” you murmured politely, head dipped low as your mother ingrained into your spine until your waist hinged like second nature. 

“Wife,” he acknowledged. 

When you raised your head, you were met with General Wen Junhui's unreadable stare. His face and body were carved equally of a godlike form, something wickedly beautiful and cruelly detached. He had his dark hair pulled back with a ribbon, the shorter bangs hanging part way in his eyes. It wasn't terribly long—it barely brushed his shoulders, having been chopped off in a messy shag some point in battle months ago, before you were wed. It was unconventional, but still handsome on him. 

You took his greeting as permission to move to your seat, and you lowered yourself at the table across from him. The table was spread with a decadent array of dishes, seasoned and roasted to perfection in five different techniques. Here was another thing you should have been grateful for. 

You clasped your hands in your lap, waiting. 

General Wen continued looking at you, as if considering something. His lips rubbed back and forth against one another and his finger tapped silently against the table. 

When your name fell from his lips, you nearly jolted. 

“Yes, General?” you replied. 

There was a flicker in his gaze, followed by a sigh. “Nevermind. Please—” he gestured to the food, then picked up his chopsticks in a show of encouragement. 

You followed, your movements slow, but elegant. You allowed your actions to loiter behind him, watching with a sharp eye to ensure he took the first bite. It was what you were taught. 

Only once the piece of roast duck passed his lips did you bring your chosen bite up to your own mouth. 

The dining room descended into silence, filled only by the muffled sounds of chewing and the soft clicks of utensil against plate. It was painfully awkward, but you'd been through worse, such as political dinners with your parents, where they openly presented you like cattle to their counterparts’ sons as if you could not hear them. You were their perfect, little pawn, molded into their perfect, little noble wife. You were their ticket to the high table, but wasn't that the definition of a daughter?

Across the table from you, Junhui cleared his throat and reached for his wine cup. “Would you like to take a turn around the garden with me once we finish dinner?” he asked, and the question came with a quick flash of heat at the back of your neck. This was new. 

“If you would like me to join you, General, then I will—”

His face contorted into a brief grimace. “I am asking if you'd like to,” Junhui said. “I would like you to, but you may not agree, and if so, then you are not required to join me in the garden.”

Oh. 

The image of his home garden flickered in your mind's eye: the lotus pond filled with koi, moonlight glinting off its onyx surface; flora grown and nurtured with great care by the grounds staff. You had walked the path about the garden once or twice before in the evening, and enjoyed making it your reading spot during the day. A small smile flitted to your lips at the thought, a miniscule spark of hope. 

“Yes, I will join you.”

A nod, and perhaps even the ghost of a smile. “Good.”

Dinner resumed in peace. 

Though you had spent plenty of moments alone with the general, very few of them shared the air of walking in the garden at night side by side. On the night of your wedding, you both shared a bed for the sake of it, but did not consummate your marriage. He seemed more determined to get a good night's rest than fulfilling that marital duty. You didn't mind; you weren't sure you wished to bring children into this cruel world, and Junhui was awfully occupied with his own obligations and work as it was. 

The night air was a comfortable temperature, with the humidity sitting delicately on your skin through your silks. You kept your hands tucked into the folds of your sleeves as the two of you strolled side by side upon the cobbled path winding through the garden. The pond sat as still as a painting, reflecting tonight's half moon upon its glassy surface. Small lanterns dotted the garden's perimeter to illuminate the way, as well as to allow you to admire the beautiful arrangements around you. 

The man beside you let out a small exhale. “I hear that you spend most of your days here,” he said, casting you a glance. “I take it you like it?”

“Certainly,” you replied with a nod. You weren't surprised he was informed of your whereabouts; the servants here were more loyal to him than they would ever be to you. Perhaps with time that might change with your own personal maids. “It's beautiful. The gardeners are truly masters of their craft.”

“Agreed.” 

The two of you paused at the apex of the small, wooden bridge that spanned the widest portion of the pond to peer at the garden splayed before you. In the early summer nights, you could hear the grasshoppers chirping their sweet melodies, hidden away somewhere in the plants. 

“I,” Junhui began, “know that you did not choose to be wed to me.”

You fought the urge to whip your head up in surprise. Where was this coming from?

Junhui kept his eyes off in the distance, unable to look at you quite yet. The dim flow of the nearby lanterns casted a pretty shadow across his defined jawline and nose, his dark eyes gleaming like a jewel. “You were likely raised to be married off, I can understand that much,” he continued. “But this doesn't have to be painful for either of us.”

“I don't quite follow,” you said quietly. 

He turned toward you then, and his gaze pierced through your own, hooking you in and preventing you from looking anywhere else. “If you had a lover before we were married, then I apologize. I won't pretend to understand that kind of love, but I've felt love for others before. You don't have to love me—all I'm asking is that you do not hate me.”

Something clutched at your heart. You did not hate the general; he likely married you to get the sharks off his back who were hounding him to wed. The only thing was that you could not force yourself to pretend around him—pretend that you loved him and were in awe of him, like any 'good’ wife would. It was especially difficult when he was away for most of the day and hardly spoke to you. After your wedding night, you both slept in your own chambers, retiring as soon as dinner was cleared. 

But… you couldn't ignore the look in his eyes. You'd never seen them reflect light in such a way, so pleadingly. You would wager the general hardly ever needed to beg, but there was a quality to his expression now that was close to it. 

“I don't hate you,” you murmured, facing him. “I simply—dislike this situation.”

“Being married to me?”

“Being married at all,” you replied frankly. “This was all I was bred for, all that I've been told to look forward to. I wish it weren't.”

Were you drunk? You should not have been speaking so freely to this man, husband or not. To be so outwardly contemptuous about marriage to one's own husband was instinctually forbidden. Were you praying for punishment?

Yet punishment did not come; he only bowed his head. “I see.”

“You will not reprimand me?” you blurted. Perhaps you really were inebriated. 

Junhui's brows creased considerably. “Of course not. You're only speaking the truth, and…” his voice trailed off as his eyes flickered upward. You followed his gaze—a blur of dark blush pink wafted down from the night sky, a plum blossom. The errant bloom drifted down into Junhui's outstretched palm. “This is the longest conversation we've ever had.”

He was right, as pathetic as that was. Even dinner was eaten in silence. If you didn't share that meal with one another, you would likely never see him. 

General Junhui, in this light, became a different man. Though he shared the same features as the man you married, they softened a value in the dim lantern light. For a moment, he looked like a young man who hadn't been burdened by such honor and great responsibility. In this light, he became reachable and someone just as alone as you were. 

His words from earlier echoed in your mind. “About what you said,” you piped up, “about a prior lover—I never had one. It's only ever been you.”

You didn't know why it sounded like that when it left your mouth. Your cheeks warmed beneath his stare. 

“I mean,” you stammered, “I've had no prior partners.”

Junhui nodded. “I understand. Neither have I, really. I've seen what it's like, however.” His voice was gentler at the tail end, wistful almost. 

“Who, if I may ask, General?”

His posture seemed to straighten, and he reached over to take your hand. The velvety petals of the plum blossom tickled your palm as he enclosed your fingers around it.

“I'm Junhui to you,” he said in earnest. “We’re husband and wife. Please don't call me what everyone else does.”

Your heart rattled so violently in your chest, it threatened to catapult into your throat. You were imprisoned by his beautiful eyes, imploring you to heed his words. 

You managed a swallow, your fingers curling around the plum blossom as his hand continued to warm yours. “Alright, Junhui,” you breathed out. The name was so intimate coming from your mouth. 

The tension in his shoulders loosened, and the corners of his mouth seemed to twitch upward. Junhui nodded. “That’s… much better, thank you. And to answer your question, it was the crown prince and his princess.” This time, he did not fight his wistful smile at the thought. 

Could the memory be so lovely as to cause such a beautiful expression to bloom upon his handsome face? Would you one day be able to be the cause of such a smile?

“Crown Prince Minghao?” You recalled the uproar that entire scenario caused. A crown prince, destined for the imperial emperorhood, falling in love with a seamstress was unheard-of. Though high society was predictably scandalized, much of the whispers among the lower classes revered the seamstress princess as proof of class mobility. It was a love story fit for the ages, and legends never died. 

You could be happy for them but understand that theirs was an exceptional case. Not all would be blessed with such circumstances. 

Junhui hummed. “Yes. His partner was a friend of mine whom I grew up with in the northern provinces. When I was relocated here to the capital city, she was a part of my party. I like to believe it was fate.”

You looked on at him in foolish, tender hope, that spark catching oxygen to burn into a flame. 

He gently squeezed your hand with his. “We don't have to have their love,” he whispered, “but we can make the best of this.”

Maybe the little girl inside you who longed for something more was still buried somewhere deep within you. She cupped that flame of hope in your chest, and began to nurture it until it warmed your soul. You nodded at him, covering his hand with your free one in quiet agreement. 

Beneath the evening plum blossoms, you and Junhui made a pact on your own terms, together—you chose to search for the light along this path you were both forced to follow. 

a/n: don't forget to reblog + comment if you enjoyed!

svt m.list

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[volo-omnia]

fuck it this is my house and i get to make the self indulgent content

if y'all are interested more i'll be rambling under the cut

So i redesigned my PLA self insert oc! I wanted to simplify the design a bit to be more "giratina" like but also taking some inspiration from some hanfu designs-

anyway long list of Gristen's character here we go

TLDR: I want to design Gristen as a foil to Volo, and someone who goes through an inverse character development to him (i.e., Volo is a villain and over time slowly reconsiders his plan being bad/redemption arc, whereas Gristen is a hero but slowly reconsiders nothing they did was worth it and thinks Volo might be right)

Gristen is actually a player character back from Pokemon Platinum, going through the normal events of Platinum through their early 20's and becoming the Sinnoh champion, and also became friends with Cynthia to help run the league now that Cynthia has stepped down/retired. Gristen at this time is still pretty stable, albeit a bit overworked as the Sinnoh champion but overall enjoying their life with the events at Spear Pillar/Distortion world behind them.

Cue being isekai'd several hundred years in past Sinnoh, now Hisui.

Gristen has now started back at zero. All of their memories got yeeted into the void (except their muscle memory for catching/battling), and they lost all their pokemon.

The events of Legends Arceus plays normally, with the minor exception of a certain blonde merchant Gristen catches feelings for...

Gristen as their base self is pretty optimistic and upbeat, eager to help out others and building a future for everyone. This is true for both Platinum and Legends Arceus, but since these are very different time periods, how people respond to Gristen is very different. (The latter obviously being much more suspicious and secluding from them)

However near the end of the game is when things start to shift. Over the course of the game Gristen slowly regains their memories, putting the pieces together who they are and what Arceus wants of them, and the tension between them and the village starts to amplify as Gristen becomes more aware people don't trust them (despite how much they're earnestly trying to help) and the rumors spreading of them being a sign of disaster don't go away.

Cue the rift disaster nearly destroying the world, Gristen gets banished from the village, and they take this really badly.

Gristen starts reconsidering their relationship as the region's champion/hero/savior and wondering why they choose to keep doing things with little/no reward. Their mental health starts tanking as well, and they start getting intrusive thoughts to just leaving the Galaxy Team and/or letting the people fend for themselves. (They don't give into these thoughts, despite everything Gristen does intend on helping others and wants to do the right thing.) Basically their optimistic personality starts to fade as they become more nihilistic, and even having weird feelings towards being Arceus' "chosen hero" despite not having any choice in this whatsoever.

Gristen starts hanging out with Volo more at this point, listening to his long talks on myths/history and the possibility of creating a new world and finds comfort that despite how everyone else treated them, Volo was still there for them.

Most of the game plays out normally, insert some self ship stuff here, and the rift closes and the world is saved. Gristen is forgiven and is allowed to return to the village, albeit they are very hesitant returning to their survey duties knowing how easily they were dropped before. The post-game plays out the same as well, with Gristen and Volo collecting the plates.

Cue the final battle at the Temple of Sinnoh and Volo's betrayal.

This is where the final thread of Gristen snaps. Given how well they handled being banished, upon Volo's betrayal Gristen is PISSED. Like, straight up considering the possibility of killing Volo. They are genuinely so upset that all their bottled feelings of everything they have went through is spilling out now. (Also, this exact moment is when all of Gristen's memories return)

Now this is where the events kinda diversify, there are a number of endings/outcomes I've thought depending on what the final outcome is at the final battle. Depending on both Gristen's and Volo's choices I've been playing with different arcs depending on the direction they go in terms of development.

Normal Ending: Gristen wins the battle, chooses to keep going as the game's hero, the events of the game plays out normally. Gristen and Volo never see each other again and Gristen is now left alone in Hisui. (Volo does get a bit of a redemption in this, as now when alone he's reconsidering if he was wrong in trying to create a new world. He's stubborn, and still set in his current canon self, but there are a few cracks.)

Bad Ending: Volo wins the battle. He destroys everything, becomes god, and creates a new world. Gristen straight up dies in this outcome. (If I'm really being lenient, I could do a more softer/fluff approach and have Volo keep Gristen alive for whatever reason, but hey this is my house and I can kill my self insert) This basically becomes a Volo-centric route.

Even More Bad Ending: Gristen wins the battle, but THEY choose to destroy everything and becomes god. This is Gristen's most nihilistic self, fully giving in to giving up and eliminating everything. (It should be noted that Gristen, unlike Volo, does not want to become a god, because now they're immortal and stuck with the revelation that they're responsible for EVERYTHING now. So basically Gristen is now in supernatural mega hell)

True Ending: Gristen and Volo both get therapy.

There's definitely different ways I wanna play with this, but Gristen is essentially my attempt at some sort of foil to Volo, reflecting trying to balance out as the "reasonable" voice of a normal person but also the potential to reflect his worst traits.

Upon the climax their dynamic is kinda in this weird state of love and hate? With Gristen's feelings boiling down to "I earnestly love and adore you very much but holy shit this plan of making a new world is the stupidest thing I ever heard of and want to strangle you for it" whereas Volo's feelings boil down to "I deeply resent you being Arceus' chosen one over me and believe I should kill you for it but I do hold some respect for you and think you're the only one that understands me"

But also I'm also doing all of this because I want to smooch Volo on the mouth. This whole thing is just an elaborate foreplay

[penvisions]

dev says her piece

just wanted to say one thing in regards to whatever the heck all that was: i love you and i am proud of you.

if you got directly and personally called out, i am so incredibly sorry. if you didn't but still feel icky and weird about it all, i am so incredibly sorry. i know that this fandom is intrinsically good. i know we are, i've made so many friends here and had so many laughs / conversations that have literally brought me back from feeling like nothing is worth anything. i have so much love, appreciation, and care for y'all.

to be singled out, to be called names, to be accused of certain things, to be called a fake or poser POC (like i was), called rude and unfriendly for responses to less than friendly demands, for not playing into the 'more popularity comes with responsibility' inaccurate line of thought, to be simply being bashed on for no particular reason.

we are all just people. indulging in silly little make believe playtime. no one is 'bigger' or 'better' than anyone, we are all here just to be silly and unhinged and share parts of ourselves we can't anywhere else. don't corrupt that for slighted feelings or attempt to categorize people into a certain hierarchy and ascribe 'responsibilities' to them.

i am sorry and you have absolutely nothing to apologize for if you felt the need to take a break / change usernames / accounts / or leave altogether. this is an online space centered around one of the most caring characters, the most caring person. you belong here, you have space here, you are important.

i know so much damage has been done by a handful of people. i know we are all feeling self-conscious and worried about posting out little stories again, we are completely valid in that (even if you aren't, you are valid for you specific, personal feelings). someone came into our home, our getaway and wrecked everything they could in a tantrum they felt the need to throw. i, myself, debated even sharing teasers and continuing my stories. but i want to do so for me, for my continued enjoyment and entertainment.

i love y'all so much and this little online bubble is exactly where you belong should you want to be a part of it. should anyone want to be a part of it and perpetuate kindess.

[djarrex]

heartbeat

Captain Rex x f!reader

masterlist | read on ao3

Rex hears his baby's heartbeat for the first time.

pregnant!reader. dad Rex. this is so soft, y'all. there's also brief mentions of Rex feeling guilty, but overall, this is just a fluffy, self-indulgent fic. about 1.2k words.

When you come out from your room after changing into something more loose-fitting and comfortable, you see the new at-home fetal doppler device laying on the kitchen table just outside the box it came in, and Rex is sitting there with his face buried in the little instructions foldable that came with it. Ever the researcher, Rex more than likely has read every word since opening it, whereas you would have just skimmed to what looked most important. Or, rather, you would've looked at the pictures, using the visuals as the sole model. A hand on your belly, you let out a light laugh, making Rex look up from what appeared to be pretty intense reading.

“Tricky piece of hardware?” you tease.

“I like to be thorough,” he points out matter-of-factly. “Wanna make sure I do this right to get the best results.”

You plop onto the couch, the creak of the springs doing the tortuous job of reminding you of your changing body. “What’d you find out?”

Rex follows you over. “Well, we want to make sure we're not confusing your heartbeat with the baby's. There are a few other things we may hear too, like the movement of your placenta or arteries.” He pauses, placing a pillow at the very end of the couch and motioning for you to lay on your back. “You still have a full bladder, right?”

You scoff. “Yes. Remember you scolded me a couple hours ago into drinking all of that water at lunch, and then told me afterwards to not use the bathroom?”

“It was for a reason, love,” he reminds you with a teasing smile, lifting your shirt up to the slope of your belly. “A full bladder helps push your uterus out of the pelvic cavity, that way the fetal heartbeat is more easily detected.”

“Wow. You really did do your research. I like it when you talk medical to me.”

Rex chuckles at that and squirts a copious amount of lotion on your belly, rubbing it in gentle circles. “I’ve already verified the device is functional and sterilized the probe face.”

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh. “You used it to check your own heartbeat first, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” he replies cheekily, deliberately avoiding your eyes with the response. “You ready, love?”

“Let’s hear what this little bean's got.”

Rex clicks the receiver on, a device that’s small enough to fit in his hand. A display lights up with a little beep, a flatline and a zero sitting stagnant. A cylindrical probe is held in Rex's other hand, and as he rests the face of it against your lotioned belly, you suck in a breath of air. Your own heartbeat thumps in your ears as you watch the focus creasing in Rex's handsome features. He’s moving the probe so slowly, so particularly, that you know he’s searching for something specific that he had to have read in his research. His hand turns the probe so that the face changes angles, starting low near your pubic bone up towards your navel then back down again.

This is a moment the two of you have waited for, for a while.

The beginning of this journey was rough, the first several weeks being nothing but bedridden illness and nausea that lasted longer than just the mornings. You stayed at home, too drained and lacking any energy to do necessary things, like go shopping or cook. A lot of days included you ordering food to be delivered, and groceries as well. It was hard to not have Rex there by your side, to help with things that would normally be a breeze for you – and you know he feels guilty for that, even though both of you are more than understanding that it isn't his fault. Still, in the odd hours of the night when he actually was able to contact you to check in only added to his needless guilt, upset with himself that he was never there laying beside you to rub your back or retrieve whatever it was that you required.

You’re a little more than a few months into this pregnancy and you’re not under any impression that Rex’s schedule will miraculously change to you and your unborn child’s benefit, but moments like this one now make it all worth it.

The quick thrumming of the baby’s heartbeat comes out muffled through the handheld over the whooshing waves in the background, the beats monitored on the display. The sound fills you with warmth and you laugh in astonishment, a choked sound as tears fill your eyes. Your hand clasps over your mouth and you look to Rex, who looks completely entranced and in awe – but there’s something else in those warm eyes of his.

The hand covering your mouth instead finds his wrist, fingers gently enclosing around it. His eyes are positively glowing as he watches himself slowly and carefully run the probe face in steady circles around a specific part of your protruding belly. Rex remains extremely silent, lips twitching in the most miniscule of movements as he concentrates.

An overwhelming sense of pride floods into Rex. He can’t believe he created this. Life – natural life. A clone soldier, a man bred for nothing more than to be fodder in battle, created life from love. It’s just beneath this device, growing in the womb of the one he loves. For the very first time he can hear it, the beating heart of it a flicker of sound that he’ll surely remember forever. The shame and guilt that he constantly feels for rarely being present to support you flees him in this moment, replaced with the overriding feelings of promise and joy.

You already know the answer to your impending question, but you want to hear Rex's voice, to prompt him after being silent since switching on the doppler.

“This is our baby’s heartbeat, what we’re hearing?”

Rex clears his throat, using the back of the hand that’s holding the receiver to wipe at the unshed tears in his eyes. “Yes. Yes, it is.” Eyes shimmering, he looks up at you, offering up the devices. "You wanna try?"

You nod, taking both devices from his hands and quickly placing the probe back where Rex just had it. It takes you a few tries to find it, but then the rapid little heartbeat is coming back to life once again.

"It's perfect," you say softly with admiration. "A perfect little heartbeat."

Rex's head lowers then, his forehead meeting your belly. He inhales and exhales shakily.

"Are you okay, Rex?"

When he looks up at you, a tear is streaming down his cheek. "More than okay. I'm so happy."

You laugh through a sudden sob just as Rex goes to kneel closer to you. He kisses you gently, a smile forming on his lips against yours. He folds his hands over your own and the two of you stay like that, foreheads pressed together and hands holding the doppler as one, the sound of your baby's heartbeat filling the room. It's just the three of you here and now, everything on the outside forgotten in this moment.

-

@pinkiemme @twistedstitcher27 @wild-karrde @rain-on-kamino @ner-runi @literallydontlook @rexxdjarin @rowansparrow @burningfieldof-clover @commander-sunshine

[shidouryusm]

𓆩♡𓆪✿༝༚༝༚-> tending to gojo satoru when he's sick and you're lovesick

Satoru x gn!reader

1.5k (Y'all shouldn't even be fazed atp im mentally ill ofc I'll write like crazy)

content- fluff, sick!gojo, banters, mentions of death (but not in any angsty way), too corny for its own good.

a.n -> this is way too self-indulgent. I just plastered a piece of my daily delusions with satoru in words. hope y'all will enjoy this little piece mwuah. I'm so lovesick for this idiot im not even embarrassed. a ginormous kiss to @stsgluver and @planetnini for proofreading and nini fixing all the little things. she is my second pair of eyes :3

Gojo Satoru. The strongest sorcerer of his age. The man bestowed with Six Eyes and Limitless, literally untouchable with a millimeter of radius separating him from the physicality of the world. The absolute one man army — is currently whining with a wet towel wrapped around his forehead, rolling over the bed with a mere fever. 

“Baby, I think I’ve reached my end. We gotta prepare for my funeral” Satoru mumbles groggily, his eyes partly covered with a damp towel. 

“Don’t just say anything, ‘Toru.” you hum, sitting by his side as you massage his head over the towel. He whines with his hands wrapped around your waist, nudging you closer to him. 

Your boyfriend has always been an overdramatic nuisance in regards to everything ; a little too spoiled for his own good and a concealed face from the world that always yearns to be babied by you. Yet you cave, almost 9 out of 10 times, for how unconditionally lovable he is and manages to be everytime.

As of now – when he’s all theatrical with a cold fever, lips jutted in a small pout. Face scrunched up — which is scrunching a bit more…his forehead crinkles and nostrils flare-

“ANCHEWWWWW-”

His upper body jolts off the bed from the intensity, spraying droplets of sneeze in the air, the towel from his forehead dropping down to his lap.  

You crinkle your nose momentarily from the two second snot hurricane that he just spewed everywhere but you continue to rub gentle circles on his broad back. 

His body slumps into the mattress again as you put the towel back on his forehead. Toru shakes his head, “I'm telling you, baby. This is your final moment to write an obituary for me– how your boyfriend was the strongest as he stood resilient against the invisible sickness, and he stepped into the endless journey to the afterworld with the pretty face, hot body-”

“”Toru, do you ever shut up?” 

“No I don't. I thought you knew” he pouts before sniffling audibly due to the cold. 

You roll your eyes, exhaling a sigh. Nearly impossible to fight against him, even when he's knocked down in the bed. Rather, you decide to run your hands through his snowy white hairs, all splayed out on the mattress. He basks in the touch of your soft hands, humming gently. 

“A millions of curses failed to do that and you think a simple virus would? That’s pretty underperforming coming from you, don’t you think, ‘Toru?” you quip amusedly, earning a little scowl from the man.

“Curses are child’s play for me. Your boyfriend isn’t the strongest for no reason.” Satoru grumbles. 

“Yet can’t deal with a cold?”

“Now. I can’t fight biology, can I?” a hint of indignance in his voice.

You chuckle as you pinch his cheek,“Just playing with you, sicko boy.” you ruffle his hair before idly playing with them again, your fingers threading through the strands like some soft cushion.

The moment stills into the air with comfortable silence except from the little sniffles Satoru is occasionally letting out. You take in the beauty of this quietude.

The room lits with the mellowy rays of the sun – the slanted, golden beams cutting through the white blinds as it bounces off the white walls, leaving a  warm brightness around.

The dust particles dance along the reflecting light on one of the corners and little chirps of birds outside melts into the air. There’s an endless blue casted on the sky and a remarkable silence veils you that is nothing but homely to revel in. 

Moments like this are hard to catch like those dusts under the sunlight but living through them feels nothing less than walking into a dream and experiencing every minute humane feelings. 

Every note of inanimate objects mixed with the soft song of nature makes your heart bloom with gratitude for feeling through them, especially with Satoru … despite how beat up with fever he may look right now. 

You look at your sleeping boyfriend, his face morphing into an expression of comfort and content. Lips partly open to breath due to his congested nose. His chest heaves from the breaths and one of his arms strew across your lap, keeping the warmth of your body close to him. 

You marvel at the effortless beauty this man possesses. 

Even with a nasty cold, loose t-shirt, sniffling nose and disheveled hair, he managed to look like the most beautiful boy in the world.

Your beautiful boy. 

Trailing your hands down his cheek, you gently cup them in your hands, your thumb runs over the rosy swell of his cheek, moving up to his eyelids. his snowy eyelashes brush against the pads of your thumb while you tenderly caress them. 

“So beautiful…” you whisper into the air, looking at his sleeping figure with utmost fondness. Completely in awe with your ability to love him to the point of stretching infinity. 

-

Hearing the two words escape your mouth, Satoru couldn’t help but break out of his character. His broad hands wrap around your wrist and he opens eyes with a squint, adjusting to the brightness. A teasing grin breaking out in his face. “Hehe, heard you~” his cerulean eyes brightens on seeing you a little flustered. 

Way to ruin the tranquility of the moment. 

He pulls your wrist close to his mouth, delicately kissing the inside of your palm, “You know, it’s not bad. I could definitely use some of that kindness every once in a while.” Satoru hums. 

“What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything” you feign innocence, not really knowing why you feel the need to deny it. 

“Mmhmm. Sure. I just heard voices in my head” he hums sardonically, his hands still tangled with yours. 

“Yes. you were dreaming. Fever dreams are pretty common in illnesses.” you counter.

Biting back at Satoru’s remarks was second nature to you, regardless of how lame the topic has to be. As if it’s like the very first time you both have met, setting foot into the relationship with little remarks. The spark that never extinguished in your conversations: of the banters that never goes amiss.

One of the constants in the ever changing wave of your relationship with Satoru. The relief from the turmoil the serious jujutsu world throws at you both.

“anything else, dr.google? the way you are forgetting things you did two seconds back, it’s you who needs to get checked. You were making the most googly eyes at me I’ve ever seen” you gasp, smacking his chest lightly, pulling away your hand from his grasp. 

“You’re gonna pass the sickness to me from your mouth, and for the record– I didn’t.” you  scoff in defiance, clutching your hand away from him. 

“Is this how you treat a sick person? I am wounded, baby,” mock hurt dripping from his words before he starts laughing. His laughter contagiously induces a chortle from you too. 

The sound fills the room to the brim as if you guys weren’t cross talking just a minute back. 

“That is so childish, why hide? Just accept you were being lovesick” Satoru adds. The laughter dies down a little and he’s back with his armor of words. 

“You’re so impossible, ‘Toru. how would you know whether I made googly eyes or not? Your eyes were closed.” 

“So you did make googly eyes, for you to be saying that? Such lame comeback. A bit underperforming. coming from you, don’t you think, baby?” he grins, tossing your own words back to you.

You narrow your eyes at him, fighting the urge to bite back your words, knowing the more you will drag it, Satoru will play along. 

“Sometimes I feel the only response is to strangle you. What happened to you feeling sick to the point of death? Isn’t it affecting you right now?” you scorn. playfully so.

“Talking to you is the way to my recovery, baby. Your words bring me back from sickness. feel my heart– it’s so alive” Satoru grins like he replied with the most appealing answer ever. 

He takes your hand, putting it over his chest. The murmurs of his heartbeat right underneath your palm. 

“Well that was repulsive and corny.” you wrinkle your nose. yet, planting your hands right where he kept it.

the feel of his sturdy chest and soft thuds of heart soothes you. He's insufferable but nothing would have you trade such fleeting moments with him.

“Doesn’t matter when I’m hot.” Satoru mutters, his face inches from yours as his nose nudges the side of your cheek. 

He’s not wrong but you’d be damned to accept that right now.

“We both know who’s bringing the hotness in this relationship.” you turn around and flick his forehead, getting up from the bed to bring him his medications. 

“Yes, it’s me. I am literally quite hot right now”

“Whatever floats your boat, babe", you chuckle. The sound of your laughter ebbing into the hallway as you walk out of the door and Satoru couldn’t feel any more healed. 

a.n.2-> if I'm being dead honest to y'all, I intended to make it angsty as fuck by turning the whole thing as a flashback reader has after gojo died 💀💀 but I will spare myself and others for this time.

comments, likes, reblogs are appreciated

tagging : @stsgluver , @kuroosexuall @shotorus + @satoruhour @hannzai + any of my gojo girlies im amnesiac baby i actually forgot yikes

[chaotic-on-main]

Sunrise | ModernAU One-Shot

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x gn!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ best friends to lovers, parental emotional abuse, FLUFF, slight hurt/comfort

☾ A/N ➼ This might be a little self indulgent, but I hope y'all like it anyways. The things the mom said may or may not be things my mother has said to me. I'm okay, before anyone asks lol. I hope this is comforting to others out there. Love you guys! Time to start of June's outline. :3

☾ Word Count ➼ ~2.2k

text convo made by @humanitys-strongest-bamf <3

Your silver sedan sits in the street in front of Levi’s apartment, headlights glowing on the other cars around you. Soft rock plays through the speakers as you drum your fingers on the steering wheel in impatience, the vibrant blue console lights lighting up your face. You had sent him a ‘here!’ which was left on read, meaning he was still up but still nowhere in sight. Maybe he couldn’t find his shoes? No, that wasn’t like him. He has a cubby by the door for them, which he kept immaculate. Just as you were going through other impossible scenarios, there’s a sharp knock on the passenger door that makes you jump. It’s Levi, double fisting two teas in to-go cups as you requested.

“Will you get the door, dumbass? My hands are full.” You hear muffled through the glass. It takes a bit of strain, but you lean over to unlatch the door and push it so Levi can kick it open with the tip of his shoe carefully. The internal lights pop on, blinding you momentarily but when your vision adjusts, you see Levi extending a long-sleeved arm to you with your drink.

“You remembered!” You exclaim, grabbing the warm cup from him so he can place his own down in the cup holder before sliding himself in the seat next to you.

“You asked for it.” He grumbles as he buckles himself in and then stares over at you, deadpan. His eyes widen a bit as he takes in the sight of you. "Is that my sweater?" You were indeed wearing Levi's thick, gray turtleneck. His favorite one, at that. You notice he says nothing about the red puffiness around your eyes.

“Well hello to you too, grumpy.” You smirk over at him as you take a careful sip of your tea, ignoring his question and relishing the flavors that Levi chose. It’s a blend that Levi had made special for you a while back, strong and smooth and a little fruity. Levi wasn’t a fan of it, but you loved it - for more reasons than you wouldn’t dare say.

“I’m not grumpy. And I’ve been looking for that all week. I’ll take it from you by force if I have to.”

“Mmm, kinky.” He scoffs but says nothing, looking away. You shift in your seat so you're facing him, linking your fingers together and resting your chin on them as you stare over at him. He gives you a side-eye, then a scowl.

"I am not driving, forget it." Levi snaps at you.

.

“So, what was it this time?” Levi mutters over to you from the driver’s side. He has the window down, hair wind-swept as he stares out into the very early morning darkness. His index finger taps on the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing in the background.

“Hm?” You don't bother looking over you as you speak. You have your arms placed up on the door with your head resting on them, your face lighting up every couple seconds from the glow of the passing street lights.

“What kept you awake this time?” You think for a moment about how you want to word what made your heart ache today. Even after 17 years of friendship, you still struggle with talking about your feelings with him. An emotional disconnection you’ve had since before you met him so long ago. He understood though and never asked, which is why he sat so patiently while you pieced together your thoughts. Nothing coherent came to mind, though.

“I don't…" You trail off, clearing your throat in discomfort. You bring your hand to your mouth and start chewing on your thumbnail.

"…know how to word it?" Levi finishes for you. As always, he was so good at reading you.

"Look at you finishing my sentences. You know, the whole friend group thinks we're secretly dating. Hange even has a bet."

"Oh yeah? What did shitty-glasses wager on this one?” Levi quips without missing a beat. He rolls to a stop at a four-way and takes this time to give you a full exasperated stare.

"Something about cleaning Miche's and Nanaba's shared apartment if they lost.“ You laugh before taking another sip of your tea. It's sweetened just the way you like it. Levi is great at remembering the little things like that.

“Tch. Then they better start cleaning.” Levi grumbles as he pushes down on the gas pedal gently. Levi didn't press, but you knew the conversation was well from over. He would never tell you, but he always wanted to know what was on your mind, especially when you were this upset. To you, however, he didn't need to. His quick glances at you every other stoplight told you enough how present he is for you, and always would be.

You stick your head out the window and smile at the warm breeze against your face. When you stare up at the sky, your vision is filled with pale stars and a bright moon. A couple clouds float by, lit up from the moonlight. It really is a perfect right for a drive.

"Do we have a destination in mind?" He turns the volume dial up a bit, the same soft rock from before now at a moderate level. You wouldn't mind it being louder, but with Levi's question now lingering in the air, skull shaking volume would have to wait.

"I don't, actually. I was hoping you’d just drive and see where it takes us." You give him a huge grin and a finger gun, and Levi just snorts in response.

"Alright then. Let's see where this takes us."

.

Around an hour and half later, Levi and you find yourselves still in the car on a gentle incline. You have no idea where Levi was taking you but now with the faint light of the early morning, you can see you're somewhere with lots of trees. Both of you are far from tired, disposable cups now empty. You’ve been staring at Levi for the last ten minutes with glazed eyes as your mind wanders. His voice snaps you back.

“Before you say anything about the eye bags, just know you’re part of the problem.” He says dryly with pursed lips.

“Pfft, your sleep problems are yours and yours alone.” You roll your eyes at that, but you can’t hold back your smile. The car slows down before turning off on a dirt path to your left. It’s still quite dark from the canopy of leaves above, so your view is limited to what the headlights illuminate.

“Oh, is this the day? You’re finally going to murder me and dispose of my body in the forest where it belongs?? What is it, head bludgeoning or a gunshot?” You feign an excited tone, wide eyes and toothy grin to accentuate it.

“Trust me. When I get rid of you, it’ll be much more thrilling than either of those.”

“Boo.” You stick your tongue out and pout.

Levi rolls the car down the path slowly, keeping his eye out for anything that might be in the way. It was relatively safe with only fallen leaves and small twigs littering the road. There’s a light at the end of it and after a moment, the car breaks through and then Levi puts the car in park. Your breath is taken away in a mere second.

You unfasten your seat belt and throw yourself out of the car quickly. Not bothering to shut the door behind you, you run over to the edge of the cliff that you find yourself on. You’re not sure how high up you are but it’s a considerable distance because the trees that litter the valley beneath you are quite small. It’s all green, broken up by a wide river that you suspect is the very same one that cuts through town. A layer of low fog weaves through the whole valley, and you imagine how pretty the morning dew must be from it. On the horizon, you see the beginning of pinks and oranges start to paint the sky. The sun is about to break.

Raising your hands above your head, you scream with exhilaration. A warm gust of wind blows against your face, throwing your hair back and tangling in the breeze. This was the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen, you think.

“Levi Ackerman, you jerk! How could you keep something like this from me!?” You yell as you turn around quickly, meeting his stormy gray eyes. He’s staring at you with a lopsided smile while he leans against the driver’s side door, arms and legs crossed.

“I can’t let you in on all of my secrets. That’s just not fair.” He shrugs with nonchalance.

“Does almost two decades of friendship mean nothing to you?” You smirk over at him.

Levi makes his way to the hood of the car and sits back on it, patting the spot next to him for you. You raise your eyebrow at him but amble over to him anyways before pulling yourself up as well. Your legs curl up under you as you cross them, noting the metal underneath you bending more than you’d like. Whatever, your car is on its last leg anyways.

You both sit in silence for a moment. Birds chirp and sing behind you in the trees, the rustling of the leaves signifies the start of their early morning routines. The sun still hasn’t made an appearance, and you gauge it’ll probably be another fifteen or so minutes until it wakes up for the day.

“So. What happened?” Levi pipes up next to you. When you twist your head to look at him, you notice a softness in his eyes; a look he reserves for when it’s just you and him. Pulling your legs up to your chest, you rest your cheek against your knee as you continue to watch Levi.

“My mother called me again.” You frown a little, now matching the one Levi points your way.

“You answered, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I told myself not to but then I got worried that maybe something happened. So, I picked it up. It started off okay…” You trail off as you reposition your head so that you are now resting your chin in the crook of where your knees met. The oranges and pinks glow brighter with every passing second.

“What did she say this time?” he asks gently.

“Oh, the usual. ‘You know how I feel about quitters’ and ‘it makes me sad to see your wasted potential’ then ended it with something along the lines of ‘being selfish’.” You laugh sardonically at that, heavy bitterness seeping into your tone.

“You know better than to-“

“Than to answer I know.” You snap. You continue to stare at an invisible airplane in the distance. The wind starts stinging your eyes, or was it tears? You blink hard to get whatever it was out.

“- than to believe any of that shit.” Levi retorts. He shifts next to you, the groaning of the metal underneath you both breaking up the momentary silence.

“I know, and it’s just so frustrating that it still gets under my skin. It’s been years since I’ve left. You’d think I’d be over it by now.” Your voice gives you away with a crack. You sniffle and rub your eyes with the sleeves of Levi’s sweater. Your tears leave dark marks against the gray. Levi mumbles your name, and you sit up and turn your head back to him. He just stares at you with his lips parted, thinking of what he wanted to say.

“Healing isn’t linear, nor is it clean. It’s going to have its moments where you feel like you’re falling back and it’s becoming too loud and chaotic. But you are healing, you need to be patient with yourself.” He says over to you gently, before bumping against your shoulder with his own affectionately. He’s a lot closer than you thought he was. “And don’t answer her calls anymore.” You continue to stare at him, this time in wonder.

“Hey Levi?” You ask softly.

“Hm?”

“You know you’re my best friend, right?”

This time Levi stares at you, but with what you’re not sure. You don’t get a moment to think as Levi leans into you, slowly. His lips linger across from yours, as if waiting for you to pull away. You don’t. Pushing yourself into him, your lips meet his and they’re so soft against yours. It starts off gentle, but then the kiss deepens as he moves his arm in a way to hold you closer to him. He tastes like bitter tea leaves and sweet honey. The sun breaks over the horizon, pale yellow now lighting up the surroundings.

When you both pull away, you notice a pink flush burning into his cheeks as he stares over at you. A laugh escapes you, loud and chest deep. A small smile tugs at his lips as he watches you. The way the early morning sun hits his face, you want it ingrained in your brain.

You grab his shirt and pull him back into another kiss, smiling into it as you do.

“Don’t tell Hange, I still want to watch them clean.” Levi mumbles against your mouth.

This moment, right here. You wanted to stay forever, you think.

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