#and I haven't been feeling it nearly as bad this time so that's nice. more like a restless dog and less like a caged wolf thirsty for blood. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

devotedlyandrogynousyouth · 2 months ago

Note

can u pleasee write mean jason todd feeling bad for making reader tear up , and he tries to make it up to her in his own weird way

Save Your Tears for Another Day

Mean!Jason Todd x Reader

Guys, hate to say it, but it's probably been 6 months since I got this ask. I'm so sorry to everybody who's sent in requests that I haven't gotten to😭

Jason Todd was not a nice person.

Not to you, not to anyone.

You’d known that from the start. You knew it when he barely spoke to you outside of the bedroom. When he never asked how your day was, never let you too close, never kissed you unless it was for something more.

You weren’t dating. That wasn’t what this was.

Still, sometimes he let little things slip. A hand lingering on your waist a second too long. A gruff “Be careful” when you left his place late at night. The way he always, always came back.

It was enough to keep you around.

Until tonight.

Because tonight, Jason made you cry.

And you weren’t sure you could forgive him for it.

It started with a scar.

You were in his apartment, lying on his bed in nothing but one of his old shirts, tracing idle patterns across his chest. He let you, eyes closed, arm slung lazily over his forehead.

Your fingers ghosted over a raised line of skin, just below his ribs. One you hadn’t noticed before.

“Where’d this one come from?” you asked softly.

Jason cracked an eye open, glancing down. He barely spared it a second before shrugging. “Don’t remember.”

You frowned. “It’s pretty big.”

He yawned. “They all blend together after a while.”

You traced the scar again, a little more deliberately. “Do any of them bother you?”

Jason huffed, shifting away from your touch. “Jesus, what is this, twenty questions?”

You froze. “I was just asking.”

“Well, don’t.” His voice was sharper now, that familiar edge creeping in. “You wanna screw around? Fine. But don’t go getting all sentimental on me.”

You swallowed hard, pulling your hand back. “I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, you were.” He sat up, running a hand through his hair. “You always do this. Act like there’s something here when there’s not.”

Something in your chest twisted.

Jason must have noticed, because he sighed and pushed himself off the bed. “I don’t need you digging through my past like some therapist. Just drop it.”

He left the room without another word, and you sat there, blinking hard against the sting in your eyes.

It wasn’t the words themselves that hurt. It was the way he said them—like the very idea of you caring was a burden. Like you meant nothing to him.Maybe you didn’t.

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to breathe. You wouldn’t cry over Jason Todd. You wouldn’t. But that night, when you left his place and walked home alone, you did.

Jason knew he’d fucked up before you even left.

He hadn’t meant to snap. It just… happened. The moment you started asking about his scars, something inside him twisted, pulling tight. You didn’t get it. What it was like to die, to come back, to carry every wound like a reminder of the boy he used to be. And you—soft, warm, good—you had no place in any of it.

That’s what he told himself.

But when he heard the front door click shut, something ugly settled in his stomach. You always stayed the night.

Not this time.

Jason spent the next day trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in his chest. He went out on patrol, cracked a few skulls, kept moving. But even when he was standing over some lowlife, breathing hard, knuckles bloody, all he could think about was the look on your face before you left. By the time he got back to his apartment, it was nearly three in the morning. He hesitated, then grabbed his phone.

Still mad?

The message sat unread. Jason scowled, tossing the phone onto the couch. He wasn’t good at this. At fixing things. At people. So he did what he always did when he needed answers. He found Roy.

“You what?” Roy blinked at him, halfway through a beer.

Jason sighed. “I made her cry.”

Roy let out a low whistle, setting his drink down. “Damn. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Not helping.”

“I am helping. I’m making you feel worse so you’ll actually fix it.”

Jason glared. “You’re about to feel worse when I put you through a wall.”

Roy smirked, but then his expression softened. “Alright, man. What happened?”

Jason exhaled sharply. “She started asking about my scars, and I… snapped.”

Roy tilted his head. “Did she ask in a pushy way?”

Jason hesitated. “…No.”

“Did she try to make it about herself?”

“No.”

Roy leaned back. “Then why’d you lose it?”

Jason ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, okay? It’s just—” He clenched his jaw. “It’s easier when she doesn’t care.”

Roy studied him for a long moment, then shook his head with a small, knowing smile.

“She does care, Jay. That’s the whole point.”

Jason didn’t reply.

Roy sighed. “Look, you can either keep pushing her away until she stops trying, or you can stop being a dumbass and make it up to her.”

Jason scowled. “Yeah? And how do I do that?”

Roy smirked. “You figure it out.”

Two days later, there was a knock at your door.

You opened it to find Jason standing there, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Hey,” he said gruffly.

You crossed your arms. “Hey.”

He shifted his weight. “Can I come in?”

You considered slamming the door in his face. Instead, you stepped aside.

Jason walked in, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes scanning your apartment like he’d never seen it before.

Silence stretched between you.

Finally, he exhaled hard. “I shouldn’t have said that shit the other night.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Which part? The part where you told me to drop it, or the part where you basically said I was imagining things between us?”

Jason winced. “Both.”

You didn’t let up. “And do you actually mean that, or did Roy bully you into coming here?”

His jaw tightened. “Roy made me realize I was being an asshole. Coming here was my own choice.”

You studied him, searching for any sign of insincerity.

Jason sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t do… feelings. Not well. And when you started asking about my scars, I panicked. I pushed you away because—” He hesitated, like the words were caught in his throat.

You swallowed. “Because what?”

His gaze met yours, sharp and unguarded. “Because I don’t want you to care about me.”

Your breath caught.

Jason let out a humorless laugh. “Because if you care, it means I can lose you. And I’ve lost enough people already.”

Something in your chest cracked open.

Jason wasn’t heartless. He wasn’t cruel. He was just… scared.

You took a slow step forward. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

He searched your face like he didn’t quite believe it. “For now.”

“For as long as you let me,” you corrected softly.

Jason exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders. Then, hesitantly, he reached for your hand, rough fingers curling around yours.

It wasn’t an apology, not exactly. And it wasn't him asking you to be something more than just a recurring fling, either.

But it was something.

Masterlist

#batfam #batfamily #batman #dc #redhood #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd angst #jason todd #jason todd x reader angst

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sansaorgana · 9 months ago

Text

— LADY OF THE ROSES (III)

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART FOUR

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Tyrell!OC

SUMMARY — Six moons of marriage have passed and an unexpected visit of Lord Jason Lannister causes Ser Gwayne and the new Lady Hightower to have their very first disagreement. Not long after, she gets pregnant with their first child.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is a Tyrell. + You don’t have to know the previous chapters to understand this one. I wanted to include Gwayne and Reader having their first child in the previous part already but it was too long and the time skip would be too big so I decided to turn it into yet another chapter of the story. Since the pregnancy and birth would be quite boring, I added some drama with Lord Jason aka Reader's previous suitor from the first chapter (but the details are not required to be known if you haven't read the first part!). There will be one more part to this story for which I am very excited! 😊 Thank you for all the nice comments. 💚

WARNINGS — Lord Jason being himself, pregnancy, birth

WORD COUNT — 6,130

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

LADY OF THE ROSES (III)

First six moons of your marriage had passed by quickly and peacefully. You couldn’t believe it was half a year already and you were very pleased with how everything you had been so scared about turned out to be not so bad – performing marital duties was nothing but pleasure and fun, meanwhile running Oldtown could be exhausting sometimes but you still enjoyed it most of the time and you proudly held your head high while helping your husband with all his obligations around the city and the castle.

Having your own property with your own servants to order around was a good feeling, too. Not that you wanted to abuse the power that had been given to you but it was simply nice not to be someone’s daughter but your own Lady. Well, your husband’s – but he had never made you feel like that. Ser Gwayne Hightower was a chivalrous knight who was treating his duties and honour very seriously. He knew that being a husband did not only mean getting but it also meant giving. He was your protector and a shoulder to cry on, a strong hand to hold you and lead you and fight for you. You trusted him with your life and you would never doubt his loyalty to you.

Sometimes you wondered why had gods blessed you with such a good husband as you doubted if you had deserved him. Not that you were a bad person but you had your flaws – your pride, your stubbornness. Yet, you had not fought even once yet with your Lord Husband.

Well, once, nearly. Gwayne had suggested that perhaps you should start wearing more modest clothing because The Highgarden fashion was a bit too revealing for Oldtown. You had scoffed at that and he had not brought that up ever again.

You knew that The Highgarden fashion was considered too exposing for lots of regions of Westeros. Only Dornish women liked even riskier gowns but Oldtown was a part of The Reach so its people were not shocked to see a Tyrell Lady in a revealing dress. You had a feeling it was your Lord Husband’s personal preference because his own sister was known as a woman of strong faith and modesty like her mother before her.

Despite being Lady Hightower now, you still felt a very strong bond with The Tyrells. You always wore a golden ring with a rose on it and you loved all sorts of ornaments and decorations in the shapes of roses. You were corresponding with your Lady Mother and sisters every week and sometimes you were still signing the letters as Lady (Y/N) Tyrell – out of habit that was visibly saddening your husband whenever he’d catch you doing that.

Just like right now as you were sitting by your desk and Gwayne was handing out letters for you to sign them. Those were some official matters that he was supposed to send out to his vassals but ever since he was married and Oldtown had a Lady, he insisted on you both signing them even though it was not a popular custom for husbands to insist on such things.

You didn’t even read those letters since you trusted him as you mindlessly kept signing a letter after a letter. You gave him back the last one and he sighed, which made you look up and raise an eyebrow at him.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Lady (Y/N) Tyrell,” he read out loud and you felt bad at the sight of his sad expression.

“I am sorry,” you reached out to squeeze his wrist. “I was not focused enough,” you admitted.

“I shall rewrite this one,” Gwayne waved the letter in the air.

“No, I shall do it,” you took it from him gently. “Or will it be seen as something inappropriate when they realise it was the wife’s handwriting?”

“No, it won’t be,” Gwayne smiled at you and allowed you to take the letter. “Can I stay here and watch you work?”

“What kind of husband asks such a thing?” You chuckled at him. “Of course, my love,” you leaned into his hand as he caressed your cheek and you placed a soft kiss upon his fingers.

Gwayne sat in the armchair by the window inside your chambers. You would spend some of your days here but all nights so far you had slept with him. However, the chambers he had prepared for you were so beautiful that it would be a waste to never spend your time inside them.

You rewrote the letter and handed it for him to sign and then you could start working on answering the letters that were addressed to you specifically. Gwayne kept sitting in the armchair and looking at you, occasionally staring out of the window. It was peaceful and quiet and you wished that moment could last forever.

The next envelope on the pile of letters made you furrow your brows. It was red and the golden wax seal had The Lannister lion on it. You checked twice if it was really addressed to you and not to your Lord Husband but no, it was very clearly addressed to “Lady (Y/N) Hightower of Oldtown”.

“Weird,” you hummed to yourself when you opened the envelope with a small dagger, without breaking the seal.

“What is it, my darling?” Gwayne turned his head around to look at you since he had been gazing out of the window and staring at the water.

“It is from Lord Jason Lannister and it is addressed to me instead of you,” you told him. It felt quite inappropriate so you wanted your husband to know for you would never hide anything of such a matter from him.

Perhaps you would not be so suspicious about it if you didn’t have a history with Lord Jason. He had been one of your suitors and your father’s favourite. In fact, he had been plotting with your father behind everybody’s back to win the tournament for your hand and he had been playing dirty by using his knight brother to pretend to be him.

“And what does he want?” Gwayne crossed his arms.

“Well, allow me to read the letter first,” you rolled your eyes playfully as you began reading.

Gwayne was trying to be very patient but from the corner of your eye you could see that he was tapping his arms with his fingers and you found it pretty amusing so you read the letter three times before putting it down and taking a deep breath in as you laid your eyes on your husband.

“He wishes to visit us. He claims he was around for his friend’s wedding and he wishes to stay at The Hightower for the night on his way back home,” you explained.

“What friend, I’m wondering?” Gwayne snorted. “Oldtown is never on anyone’s way. It is usually a destination, not a stop.”

“He says his friend is Lord Bulwer, they are our vassals from Blackcrown. He must reach Oldtown to get on the Rose Road. It is a faster way to get back to Casterly Rock than to travel alongside the shore,” you explained because, sadly, Lord Jannister’s excuse sounded very realistic. “Well?” You asked Gwayne. “We must give him an answer.”

“We are not in a state of war with The Lannisters, are we? We shall let him stay for the night,” your husband sighed and stood up to read the letter himself as if he wanted to make sure there was nothing inappropriate in it.

In the meantime, you began working on a reply letter to Lord Jason Lannister. Your husband kept standing behind you and examining every word you were writing down. He had never done that before, even when you had been writing letters of much bigger importance.

“I don’t mind you being in the same room as me while I work but this is a little uncomfortable, my love,” you tried to make him realise calmly when you were about to sign the letter.

“Do not forget your surname this time,” Gwayne reminded you and you furrowed your brows at the tone of his voice. It was not rude but certainly harsher than usual.

“Lady (Y/N) Hightower,” you signed silently, “of House Tyrell,” you added, just to spite Gwayne and you didn’t have to look up to know that he rolled his eyes. However, he did not say anything.

Lord Jason was supposed to come three days later in the evening, right in time for the supper. You wore a green dress for that occasion but you had a rose-shaped jewellery that your husband usually did not mind but on that day he seemed to be bothered by it.

“This jewellery is beautiful, dear wife, but are you sure it goes well with the dress?” He asked during breakfast as you froze.

“Since when are you an expert?” You turned your head around with widened eyes. Well, Gwayne knew quite a lot about fashion but his comment had irritated you.

“Since I am a married man,” he cracked a nervous smile at you.

“Yellow roses always go well with green for those are the Tyrell symbols,” you reminded him with a forced, ironic smile.

“Is this how you wish to greet Lord Jason in Oldtown? As Lady Tyrell?” Gwayne raised an eyebrow at you.

“I have been walking around this city in this very dress and jewellery many times before and you have never said anything!” You protested and Gwayne blushed a bit because he had no idea what else to say.

You went back to eating because you didn’t want to torment him more by pointing out the flaws of his argumentation, however he did not choose silence at all.

“The dress is also quite low-cut,” he mumbled.

“Yes, it is, my beloved Lord, and what about it?” You clenched your fist around the fork you were holding.

“I suspect not many Lord Husbands would want their wives to greet their previous suitors in such a dress,” he commented.

“I have never treated Lord Jason as my suitor,” you scoffed. “And what is wrong with the dress?”

“Nothing,” Gwayne quickly fixed himself. “Nothing is wrong with the dress, my beautiful Lady,” he assured you and went back to eating.

“Are you perhaps jealous of Lord Jason? Do you wish to impress him or show me off as your property?” You asked after the sudden realisation as you laid your eyes on him again.

“Property? No. My wife,” Gwayne clenched his jaw as he explained. “I want to show you off as my Lady Wife.”

“My darling,” you smiled and shook your head as your anger subdued. You leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I would have chosen you as my champion during that tournament even if you were a beggar knight from a peasant family. I would love you even if you were a miller, a carpenter, a fisherman. And no amount of Lannister gold would convince me to go with Lord Jason anywhere,” you assured your husband and fixed his hair gently. “I want to show you off as my Lord Husband in front of him just as much.”

That seemed to calm Gwayne down for now as he nodded with a small smile and even stole a little kiss from your lips. You were alone by the table and the few servants walking around would not scold you for that anyway.

The sun was slowly setting down when you were standing by Gwayne’s side in the courtyard of The Hightower and awaiting Lord Jason Lannister. Your arms were brushing and you kept looking at each other once in a while as if you were giving each other courage. Not that you needed it but Lord Jason was rather insufferable and you knew that losing temper around him would not be good for your relations with The Lannisters. The relations were pretty fragile already anyway.

Finally, you heard the horses and saw a big, elegant carriage with the Lannister lion ornamented on its doors.

“I thought he would travel on a horseback,” Gwayne mumbled.

“Well, he is not a knight. He is used to certain comfort,” you whispered and wore a fake smile that very moment when one of your servants opened the door of the carriage and you saw Lord Jason walking out.

He looked around as if he could not see you nor your husband at first. Then, he faked a smile as well and approached you.

“Lord and Lady Hightower,” he looked you up and down and kissed the palm of your hand when you bowed your head down.

“Lord Lannister,” you greeted him.

“Ser Gwayne,” he nodded at your husband.

“Lord Jason,” Gwayne nodded back. “You must be tired after the journey. Come, the supper is ready and your chambers have been prepared.”

“Thank you. I have never been to The Hightower, I must admit,” Lord Jason followed you inside. He kept looking around like a curious cat.

“How did you get to Blackcrown, my Lord?” You asked him curiously since you and Gwayne had been wondering about it earlier – why was he asking you for a room to stay on his way back only.

“I went there by a ship, Lady Hightower, but the ship was the wedding gift for my friend,” Lord Jason answered and you nodded.

“Your wedding gifts are very generous, my Lord,” Gwayne pointed out.

“Well, I can afford such,” Lord Jason grinned at him as you reached the dining hall. “You must forgive me for not sending one to you, Ser, but in my position of a failed suitor, it would have been pretty humiliating,” he explained and you pretended to understand his point of view.

And it was not like you cared about any gifts from him anyway.

“Please, let us not dwell on the past,” you showed Lord Jason an empty chair by your husband’s side and he took it after you and Gwayne had sat down as well.

“I am not meaning to, my Lady,” Lord Jason informed you proudly. “I am a married man myself now.”

“Oh, are you? Congratulations, my Lord,” you smiled at him even though he had never congratulated you on your union. “To whom?”

“Lady Johanna of House Westerling,” Lord Jason answered and you hummed to yourself.

“Well, she is a lucky Lady,” you tried to be kind.

“Thank you, that is very flattering, Lady Tyrell,” Lord Jason bowed his head and Gwayne shot him a deadly glance. “Oh, do forgive me, Lady Hightower. The colours you are wearing have misled me,” he explained with a grin and you faked a smile but you began to feel guilty for not listening to your husband earlier.

“Green is the colour of House Hightower,” your husband reminded Lord Jason.

“Indeed but the roses…”

“My wife is not forbidden from wearing the emblems of her father’s house,” Gwayne interrupted Lord Jason and it was rude enough to make all of you sit in silence for a moment after that.

“Lord Jason,” you started quickly to change the subject, “why isn’t your Lady Wife with you?”

“It was not recommended in her fragile state. Lady Lannister is expecting,” Lord Jason straightened himself and you could see pride and smugness about him.

“Congratulations, my Lord,” you nodded at him.

“Aren’t you afraid of leaving your pregnant Lady Wife alone for so long when it is no matter of life and death keeping you apart from her, my Lord?” Gwayne asked and you clenched your jaw before kicking him slightly under the table.

“Ser Gwayne, there is nothing in this world women do better than give birth. She does not need my assistance,” Lord Jason found it quite funny, though, as he laughed but he was the only one doing so. “Speaking of, I’ve expected to see Lady Hightower being swollen already. How long has it been now since the wedding? Six moons?”

You froze at his question. It was incredibly rude to be up in other people’s business like that.

You had been discussing the matter of children with Gwayne in the very beginning of your marriage and you both had decided you wanted some time for yourselves before having children and to enjoy each other’s company first. You were regularly drinking teas prepared by The Hightower’s maester to prevent you from getting pregnant and so far it had been working. But if it had failed, you wouldn’t be sad about it either, for you couldn’t wait to have your babes soon anyway.

You exchanged a meaningful look with your husband, not knowing what to say. If you told Lord Jason the truth – that you wanted to wait and enjoy each other’s company – he would only scoff at that and find it hilarious.

“And who has told you that I am not swelling, my Lord?” You answered swiftly before Gwayne opened his mouth.

Lord Jason looked you up and down before humming to himself.

“Well, congratulations, Ser,” he patted Gwayne on his back.

“Thank you,” Gwayne gritted through his teeth and gave you a scolding look. “It is still very early news, though,” he added.

“May the Gods bless Lady Hightower and her offspring,” Lord Jason nodded at you and it somehow felt very sincere.

“Thank you, Lord Jason,” you gave him the very first genuine smile that evening.

The rest of the supper went pretty boringly and you said goodnight to Lord Lannister before the servants took him to his chambers. You and Gwayne went upstairs in awkward silence.

On your way to your husband’s room, you passed the door to your chambers. They were a floor below Gwayne’s chambers that were located at the highest level of The Hightower.

“I shall join you later,” you only mumbled out and he nodded, watching you disappear inside your room.

Your maids were already waiting there to help you into your nighttime attire. You kept sighing and they were exchanging looks.

“How was it, my Lady?” One of them asked. She knew your backstory with Lord Jason because she was one of the girls you had taken with you from The Highgarden.

“Lord Jason is insufferable as always and even though he is married now himself, he finds great enjoyment in tormenting my Lord Husband,” you told her.

“Well, my Lady, I doubt Ser Gwayne is angry at you,” her eyes widened.

“I do not know anymore. I have worn a dress he did not approve of and it indeed caused trouble. I have also said something… Something I should have not said and I have said it to defend his honour but he might not see it this way,” you confessed.

“Ser Gwayne is a very understanding Lord Husband,” the girl assured you and smiled while she brushed your hair.

You kept looking at yourself in the mirror’s reflection but you weren’t sure of her words. That supper had gone worse in the beginning than you had even imagined.

You thanked your maids and they left you alone but you kept sitting in the armchair and staring at yourself and at the candles slowly burning out instead of moving up and joining your husband as you had promised.

For the first time during your marriage, you simply blew out the candles and went inside your own bed. It even felt weird to lay there since you were not used to it but it just felt like the right thing to do on that night.

You couldn’t fall asleep though. And after a while of tossing and turning, you heard the doors open as the wooden floor squeaked under someone’s feet.

“Who is it?” You sat up immediately.

“And who do you think, my Lady?” A familiar voice made you sigh out of relief.

You reached your hand out in the darkness and Gwayne grabbed it as you led him into your bed.

“Why didn’t you bring a candle with you?” You asked.

“I felt a little adventurous,” he chuckled. “And I know my way to you by heart, my beloved Lady,” he added. “Why haven’t you joined me?”

“I thought you didn’t want me to, my Lord,” you admitted when he laid next to you under the cover. You cuddled him immediately by curling up next to him and putting your arm around his waist. “I thought you were cross with me.”

“I am not cross. I simply do not understand why you lied,” he confessed and kissed the top of your head.

“Is it the lie that you’re upset about?” You furrowed your brow. “I do value your honour but…”

“Not the lie itself,” Gwayne interrupted you. “Why didn’t you allow me to inform Lord Jason that we do not wish for children yet?”

“Because he would not understand and find you weak or assume you are unable to produce an heir and it is nothing but an excuse. I wanted to spare you further embarrassments,” you explained. “And… I am sorry for the dress…” You added, looking down.

“Do not be. I am sorry for insisting,” Gwayne rubbed your back. “And thank you for wanting to spare me embarrassments but now we are facing quite a challenge, aren’t we, my love?”

“What do you mean, my Lord?” You looked up, finding his blue eyes in the darkness of your chambers.

“I mean that Lord Jason now believes that you are expecting, my darling,” Gwayne smirked a little and you furrowed your brows.

“Oh no,” you gasped, faking the dramatic aspect of it. “And what shall we do about it now?” You wondered theatrically.

“Well, I have quite a few ideas,” Gwayne leaned in to join your lips together in a kiss as his hands pulled you even closer by your waist.

“Are you sure?” You breathed out between one hasty kiss and another.

“Only if you are,” he assured you.

“I am,” you nodded. “I am, I am, I am…” You kept repeating, suddenly realising how eager you indeed were to have your own little babe before you allowed your husband’s lips to devour yours with yet another passionate kiss.

Thankfully, Lord Jason was supposed to leave Oldtown after breakfast. You greeted him in the morning in another green dress and even though this one was pretty low-cut, too, you decided not to wear any roses on that day. Instead, you wore a necklace with The Hightower that had once belonged to Gwayne’s late Lady Mother.

Lord Jason kept staring at your chest and the necklace until it became a little uncomfortable and he cleared his throat before looking up to meet your cold gaze that you were gracing him with.

“I must admit I have not expected The Hightower to be that grand. It really is as tall as they say,” he bowed his head at you.

“We Light The Way, Lord Lannister,” you reminded him with a forced smile.

“Of course, Casterly Rock remains taller,” he added and you put the cutlery down, irritated. Gwayne gave you a look to remind you to stay polite.

“My Lord, why the remark? Is it a contest?” You asked him, trying not to sound too angry. “It is not the size of the castle that proves manhood. I do believe that you have already shown yours during the tournament for my hand in marriage,” you reminded him of his shameful behaviour and cheating. “The tournament which my husband has won fairly and justly,” you added.

Lord Jason did not say anything. He looked down and went back to eating while his cheeks' colour started to resemble The Lannister emblem.

You squeezed Gwayne’s hand under the table and the rest of the breakfast went pretty smoothly. You went outside to the courtyard to watch Lord Jason ride away. His farewell was pretty short and official. He was not trying to make any jokes anymore.

“My darling, you have acted as if you were a knight and I was a lady in distress,” Gwayne chuckled at you once you were finally free of Lord Lannister.

“Sometimes you are, my Gwayne,” you smiled at him sweetly and leaned in to steal a kiss from his cheek.

“Shall I get you a sword, my sweet?” He teased you and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Perhaps another time, Lord Husband,” you chuckled at that.

Two moons later you were watching Gwayne training with his sword as he was teaching a young squire on the courtyard. The day was quite hot but you had nothing else to do and you loved to watch him train anyway so you were sitting on a wooden bench, trying to remain in the shadow but you felt awful nevertheless. The sun felt too warm, the corset seemed to be too tight no matter how many times you had asked your maids to loosen it and you were hungry but too nauseous to eat. You blamed your condition on the weather and your upcoming monthly bleeding, which was late already but the soreness of your breasts could only mean that it would come very soon.

Gwayne kept looking at you from the corner of his eye with a worried expression because he could see that something was not right – you looked exhausted and your skin was a shade paler than normally. There were bags under your eyes and your voice sounded weak whenever you cheered for him or his squire.

He knew he was most likely overreacting but he was panicking deep inside that you could be seriously ill like his mother had been. The beginnings of each illness looked the same and losing you so fast after marrying you would surely kill him, too.

You were too exhausted to even notice the worried look on his face. You raised your head to shield your face from the sun and you felt a sudden dizziness that made you flutter your eyelids as your head grew heavy before losing consciousness for a short while.

When you opened your eyes again, the very first thing you saw was Gwayne’s furrowed brows and blue eyes filled with worry and fear. His cheeks were so pale that his freckles were more visible than ever and the strands of his auburn hair were tickling your face. His squire was standing behind him with widened eyes.

“Wh-what happened?” You asked and looked around while your vision was slowly coming back.

“You have fainted, my love,” Gwayne swallowed thickly.

“It must be due to the heat,” you tried to explain.

“Mayhaps. But I shall not underestimate your condition,” he picked you up the bridal style, carefully.

“What are you doing, my Lord?” You chuckled weakly at him.

“I am taking you to the maester,” your husband answered with all seriousness.

You didn’t protest because you knew he was worried and to be honest so were you. You only hoped that the maester would confirm that it was nothing serious.

Gwayne’s squire opened the door leading to maester’s chambers in front of you both and The Hightower’s maester stood up to bow his head. He had been sitting by his desk and working on something before you came inside.

“My Lord, My Lady,” he greeted you. “Is everything alright?”

“No, maester. My Lady Wife has fainted,” Gwayne laid you down gently on a bed.

“It is because of the heat!” You protested.

“Mayhaps,” the maester hummed to himself and approached you to examine you with his hands as Gwayne stood above him and watched worryingly. “Have you slept well, my Lady?”

“Oh, I can’t sleep for about two weeks now,” you admitted and yawned a little at the mention.

“I understand. What have you had for breakfast, my Lady?” The maester furrowed his brows.

“I was too nauseous to eat,” you confessed.

“May I ask you when was your last bleeding?” The maester raised an eyebrow.

“It should come any day now for it was more than a moon ago… I am sure it is going to come, though. My breasts are sore,” you lowered your voice a little, feeling uncomfortable with the way he was looking at you and Gwayne’s presence hovering above the both of you.

“May I?” The maester lifted his hands and you opened your mouth to answer but you noticed that he was looking at your husband and not at you.

“I mean, if you must…” Gwayne cleared his throat. “And if the Lady agrees,” he added and only then the maester laid his eyes on you.

“Go on,” you nodded and your heart skipped a beat when he grabbed your breasts gently through the fabric of the dress and squeezed them carefully. You hissed at the feeling.

The maester hummed to himself and moved his hands away before looking up at Gwayne again. Your husband shook his head out of anticipation.

“And?!” He asked.

“Lady Hightower is expecting. Congratulations, my Lord,” the maester informed and you opened your mouth slightly at that revelation.

“I… I am with child?” You inquired and sat up, feeling the sudden outburst of energy.

“I am quite certain of it. Too many symptoms confirming,” the maester nodded. “And when was it that my Lady stopped drinking the tea? Two moons ago, right?”

“That is quite right,” Gwayne answered and took you by your hand. He squeezed your fingers gently and sat on the edge of your bed. He placed a gentle kiss upon the palm of your hand and looked deep into your eyes with such a loving expression that you felt butterflies all over your body even though you had been married for more than half a year now.

The maester walked away and sat back by his desk to give you some space but you completely forgot about his presence anyway for all that mattered was your husband and his child you were apparently carrying under your heart.

“Oh, Gwayne…” You stuttered out as your eyes filled with happy tears. “So it is happening… And to think we have Lord Jason Lannister to thank…”

“My Lady!” Gwayne frowned and chuckled. “Do not say such things. Some people might get ideas…”

“That is true, I guess,” you laughed at his comment. “Are you still certain that you will not mind a daughter if it is a girl?”

“All I care for is your safety. And the child’s. In that exact order,” he answered and you gave him a faint smile.

“Whether they’re a boy or a girl, I just wish for them to be like their father,” you squeezed Gwayne’s hand lovingly. “That is my greatest wish.”

A slight blush covered his cheeks and you smiled at his reaction. It was quite easy to make him flustered with such compliments for he had not been getting many in his childhood. He had been left alone at eight years old, raised by all the septas and maesters of The Hightower alongside older knights teaching him the craft and chivalry. His life had been quite a lonely one but it no longer would be for you would fill the corridors and courtyards with tiny little Hightowers running around.

Your screams could be heard on every floor of The Hightower – a monument taller than The Wall itself – at least that was what your husband had claimed with a chuckle when you nearly crushed his hand while squeezing it tightly. You gave him a deadly look and he lovingly wiped your sweaty face, pushing away all the hair strands that got stuck to your forehead.

You knew that Gwayne was trying to distract you with his jokes here and there but overall he was very worried – perhaps even more than you were since your pain was too overwhelming to focus on anything else. The septas were busy around you, wiping your sweat away, helping you to drink water and telling you when to push as they monitored the birthing process.

You had not expected your Lord Husband to actually be there for you but he had not disappointed you. You had been conflicted at first for you had been told once that wives should not allow their husbands inside during labour. But you were too scared to go through this alone and the pain was much greater than what you had imagined as well. Gwayne’s presence was bringing you great comfort even if sometimes he was annoying you.

The birth had started after breakfast and the sun was slowly going down already but the septas were assuring you that it would not take long from now on. Gwayne had not left your side even for a moment throughout the whole day.

“I did not mean to upset you, my love,” he explained, caressing your hand as if it was the most delicate thing in the world and not a deadly machine that had nearly crushed his hand on several occasions that day. “You are the bravest woman in the Realm to me. In all the Realms of this world, in fact,” he assured you and you just couldn’t be angry at him any longer.

You smiled and wished to tell him something equally sweet when a sharp pain distracted you and you turned your head around while wincing and squeezing your husband’s hand tightly again.

“I can see the head!” One of the septas screamed. “Go, fetch the maester!” She ordered the young girl who was only getting her training but seeing her pale face and terrified expression, you wondered if she regretted her decision to become a septa.

On the other hand, as a septa she would never have to go through what you were going through at the moment.

The girl ran out of the room and you kept taking deep breaths in and pushing like the eldest septa was instructing you. Gwayne kept holding your hand throughout that but seeing his face, he needed the breathing instructions as well.

The maester entered the chambers in a hurry with the scared young septa after him and in that very moment the child’s screams and crying filled the room. The sound was so loud and determined that you immediately knew that there was nothing to worry about for only a healthy and strong child could make such a fuss.

The maester hurried to the newborn baby and Gwayne was trying to see as much as possible through all the septas swarming up around you to clean you up a little and wipe your face from all the sweat.

“It is a boy,” the maester informed and you couldn’t help but sigh with relief.

You knew your Lord Husband could not care less about it but you did care – you loved him and you wanted to give him an heir.

“Is he alright?” Gwayne asked with a raspy voice.

“See for yourself, my Lord. He is a perfectly healthy babe,” the maester approached you two and handed Gwayne his firstborn son. He showed your husband how to hold the little head up and you watched with a loving smile the little bundle of joy staining your husband’s clothes with blood as he was screaming his lungs out.

“He is beautiful,” Gwayne mumbled and moved closer to you as you reached out your weak hands to hold your own babe as well. He placed him gently on your chest but his eyes were fixated on the boy. “Thank you for him, my love.”

“I thank you, my Lord,” you answered but you did not look up at him either since you kept staring at the screaming child. But when he felt your skin and your heartbeat, he stopped crying immediately and just kept staring at you with huge eyes. You chuckled at that and cried happy tears. “How do you want to name him?”

“Lord Edmund Hightower?” Gwayne suggested. It was no surprise to you that he did not propose his father’s name and you liked the sound of Edmund Hightower, so you nodded. You could not care less about the name, you were just glad to have a son and you thought it was only fair for the father to choose his heir’s name anyway.

“I like the sound of that,” you assured your husband as you looked up to meet his gaze.

“So do I,” Gwayne nodded. “And the sight, my Lady,” he added and you felt your cheeks heating up.

Only Gwayne knew how to make you flustered still, after over a year of marriage and right after giving birth to a child, dirty with blood and sweat but to him you were nothing but a victorious warrior that had just survived a battlefield and he admired you now more than ever before.

MASTERLIST

#gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower x oc #tyrell oc #lilysfiction

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sanguineterrain · 2 years ago

Text

sunset anew | dick grayson

Summary: You're a little nervous to become the Mrs. Grayson. Luckily, your husband-to-be knows just what to say to soothe your worries.

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: wedding, anxious reader, the batfam actually gets along, fluff!! (dick is my wife.)

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

the divider

Contrary to popular belief, Gotham isn't a complete eyesore.

Sure, it's no vacation spot, and it's probably not the ideal place to settle down. But there are beautiful parts within the grunge.

Your wedding planner had shown you multiple locations, from Napa to the Bahamas. Bruce had insisted cost was no problem.

But that wasn't what made you choose Gotham.

Your forearms rest on the polished stone-top railing that surrounds the rooftop of the nicest hotel in the city. Thirty-two floors, all rented out for you.

You look down at the tiny cars and people below. Your heart swoops.

Your heels are in one hand. The sun crests the horizon; soon, yellow will melt into buttery orange and pink. It’s the first sunset you knew. The only sunset you know. And it’s the same one you saw the first time you met your almost-husband.

You'd come up here so you wouldn't miss it. Just this one time.

“Found her!”

You jump as the roof access door opens. Damian and Duke walk out. Duke gives you a warm smile.

"Jesus, you guys," you say, hand on your chest. “Way to scare a girl.”

“Sorry. You look really nice,” Duke says, smoothing his bowtie.

Damian crosses his arms, clearly unimpressed.

“Frightening you is the least of our concerns. We thought you’d run. Which would be understandable, considering the family you’re marrying into, but Father spent a lot renting the hotel. Plus, Grayson would’ve been inconsolable, and extremely annoying.”

“Dude,” Duke says, elbowing Damian. “Chill out. It’s not like she was actually going to leave him at the altar.” He squints at you. “Were you?”

“No! I wasn’t going to leave him at the altar, oh my God.”

Damian nods. “Good." He taps his watch and speaks into it. "Grayson, our work is done. Come to the roof.”

Duke gives you a wave and they wordlessly leave the way they came. You sigh and start to slip your heels back on. There’s some whispering at the bottom of the stairs, and Damian shouts “no!” before it’s silent.

You have one heel on when Dick emerges.

He’s unfairly handsome in his tux, hair somehow both neat and tousled. He also has what looks to be Damian’s tie wrapped around his eyes. You step out of your heel, unsure.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to scare you."

"It’s okay, baby. Why are you blindfolded?"

"Bad luck to see the bride, duh."

You can't help your idiotic grin at that. "I think it'll be fine, Gray. You didn’t have to take his tie.”

"Maybe you haven't met my family; we're not known for our good luck streaks.”

"I'm madly in love with you,” you say, feeling gooey.

Dick beams, and you nearly forget about the sunset altogether.

"I'm madly in love with you too."

You kiss him and he blindly returns it, following your lips even after you step back. You cluck your tongue and nudge him away. He obeys, though not without sliding his hand onto your waist and tugging you away from the roof. You follow because he's such a worrier.

Dick reaches for your hand and squeezes.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah. Sorry I disappeared. I didn’t know the calvary would be sent after me.”

“Yeah, uh…” Dick rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Again. I got worried.”

The guilt sinks its claws deeper. You frown and touch his cheek.

“I would never leave you at the altar, Dick.”

“I know! I know that. They’re idiots; don’t listen to ‘em, whatever they said."

You cup his face with both hands and kiss him again. He squeezes your wrists and you can feel the relief rolling off him in waves, as much as he tries to hide it.

“Was my absence noticeable?” you ask.

"Just to us. Don’t worry about it. The Wayne family are professional crowd entertainers."

"I take it Bruce is doing card tricks?"

"Yep,” Dick says. “He’s pretty good too. Might retire the suit."

You laugh. "Sorry I'm missing it."

"Trust me, you'll get your fill soon."

“We can go down now,” you offer, even though you’re still waiting for that sunset.

He shakes his head. “There’s no rush.”

You smile and rest your head on Dick's shoulder. He accepts you instantly and wraps his arm around your waist.

"You feel really beautiful," he says.

"Charmer."

"I'm serious!"

"I know. That's why I'm so damn sweet on you, Gray."

"I've got a shot with you, then?" he asks.

"Oh, big time."

He nuzzles your neck. You breathe in his scent: wine from earlier, detergent, the hair gel he uses to effortlessly capture the bed head look.

"We didn't have to do this today, you know,” he says, voice vibrating through you.

You pick your head up in alarm.

"What're you talking about?"

"If-if you're getting cold feet, I mean," he adds. "Second thoughts. We can always reschedule."

"Dick, no, I'm not getting second thoughts. I want to marry you today. I will marry you, okay? We've been together for almost four years."

"So? You know how long Batman and Catwoman have been skirting around each other? We've all got a wager going. Including Alfred!"

You snort. "Okay, well, excuse me if I don't want your family to bet on how long it's going to take us to marry."

"Afraid that ship's sailed."

"Of course it has."

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in. His arms drape over your hips. You trace the shape of his lips with your index, up his Cupid's bow and up the tip of his nose. Dick has such a lovely nose. You've always thought so.

“So who bet that I’d actually made a run for it?”

“That feels like a trick question,” he says.

“Jason?"

“Jason adores you, actually. He didn’t doubt your loyalty once.”

“Damian had his doubts."

“Damian's thirteen, he doesn’t know shit.”

You snort and kiss his cheek. “Well, I forgive him. He was protecting you, that’s all.”

"If it helps, everyone else was certain of your loyalty," Dick says, letting you paw at his face. “Myself included.”

"That does help, actually.”

Dick stops your hand in its journey and rests your palm on his cheek.

"What were you thinking about?" he asks quietly.

You stiffen a little. "Nothing. Just needed some air."

"You sure?"

You know what he's doing: feeling your pulse to see if it changes, listening to your breathing, watching if your shoulders tense. He's a detective first, and a damn good one.

You slump in defeat.

"What if I'm not… good at this? At being… us?”

"What?" Dick asks in disbelief. "What are you talking about? Of course you’ll be good at it. The real worry is me, babe. I mean, you're incredible. I'm the one who runs around in spandex at night."

"Gray, I'm serious," you say, resting your head on his heart. "All those people who’ve been watching us, waiting for the future Mrs. Grayson to slip up. I just—I can't help but wonder if it's prophetic. I wonder if maybe you deserve more."

"Hey. Now I can't predict the future. But even if I could, I don't believe there is a timeline out there where I could ever want or need anyone but you. And you're not alone in this, you know? I'm scared too. I'm terrified I'm putting you in danger. Of fucking up completely. But I also know that sometimes… we get good things, you know? It's not all doom and gloom. I mean, you being in my life is proof of that."

God, he always knows how to make your heart ache just right.

"I really want us to work," you whisper, clutching his suit coat. "I just don't wanna let you down, Gray."

"Baby," Dick says, curling around you. "Sweetheart, where did this come from? What makes you think that? You've never let me down, not once. I love you. It's okay if you feel like you don't know what you're doing, 'cause I don't know either."

You reach to untie the tie. Dick lightly grabs your hand, but you continue to tug anyway.

"Wait, babe—"

"Dick, it's okay. I want to see your eyes. Please?"

He lets you pull it off. He squints at the light, adjusting. Then his gaze drops to you and his lips part.

"Wow," Dick says, hands sliding up your arms.

You smile. "Like it? Selina helped me pick the dress, so it's all thanks to her."

"Fuck, baby. I wanna marry you right now. Screw everyone down there. Let's elope."

You laugh, combing back his hair with your fingertips and tucking loose strands behind his ears.

"Gray, you know we can't do that. What about Bruce? He'd be devastated and more than rightfully pissed."

He shrugs. "So what? I'm the favorite, I can get away with it."

"Well, what about Alfred? You'd break his heart."

Dick pauses, mulling that over. You kiss his chin.

"Damn it," he says. "You're right. I couldn't do that to him. He's arguably more excited about our wedding than we are."

"Mmhm. But I appreciate your attempt to be spontaneously romantic," you say, smiling.

Dick tugs you closer still, rubbing your back.

"I would elope," he says. "If you really wanted to. You could convince me to do just about anything. Even if it unleashed Alfie's wrath."

"Don't tell me that," you chide playfully. "You'll give a girl all sorts of notions."

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

Dick starts to kiss up your neck and you happily let him, eyes slipping closed. It's good, until—

THUMP!

You jump. Dick immediately pushes you behind him.

The roof access door swings out so hard it slams against the wall. Jason glares, bowtie already loosened.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're gonna miss your own wedding, dumbass!" He nods at you. "Hey, future sis. Looking good."

"Thanks, Todd."

"Mm. Everything okay?"

You smile. "Everything's wonderful."

"Yeah, I'm okay too, thanks," Dick says, scowling.

"I know you're fine, idiot. Now come put a ring on it before Alfred hunts you down himself."

Jason turns on his heel, shaking his head. "Responsible one, my ass…"

You look at Dick, grinning.

"Seems like we should go do the marriage thing," you say.

"Seems like." He squeezes your hip. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah, Gray. I do. Thanks. I love you."

"Love you too, baby. Let's go marry the hell out of each other."

The sunset has morphed into a violet night. But you don't mind that you missed it; you know there will be countless sunsets to come.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson fanfic #dick grayson imagine #batman fanfiction #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing fanfiction

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mentime · 5 months ago

Text

✿ cum undone ✿

title: cum undone

summary: when Billy Butcher isn't coming up with new reasons to hate Supes, he works as a phone sex operator.

w.c: 2.5k

warnings: phone sex, cursing, fingering, slight hint at pain play but only very very slightly, solo masturbation, nothing graphic at all tbh

note: hi first work!! hope everyone is doing well, sorry if there's any typos, kind of rushed it but hope you enjoy thanks for reading <3

What in the actual fuck were you doing?

Your thoughts begin spiralling, and you grasped at your bedsheets to try and ground yourself, but despite your efforts, your breaths were becoming faster and shallower.

And you still couldn't bring yourself to hang up the phone.

See, you had found yourself in a bit of a predicament. It had been building up all week, you've been feeling hot and bothered over small things, it was getting to be too much for you. Which is what lead you to now, watching helplessly with bated breath as your phone dialed the number for a phone sex hotline that you had discovered on the internet in your haste to solve your... problem.

The phone rings once...

This was a bad idea.

Then twice...

This was a really, really bad idea.

Then three times...

This is getting pathetic now, you should really just hang up-

"Hello, love, Butcher here, ready to satisfy every desire you could possibly come up with in that pretty little head of yours", a gruff, gravelly British accent answers on the other side of the phone, reciting what seems to be the company's slogan. You could feel blood flowing to your cheeks and an abundance of heat pooling in your abdomen at the sound of the man's voice alone. "Are ya in need of some…service?"

You scramble to get closer to the phone, flushed and out of breath already. You try to think of something clever to say, something that doesn't give you away as just a total inexperienced loser, but you don't come up with anything special.

"Hi", you manage to will your voice to speak at a somewhat normal volume and pace. "Um, yes please?"

The man, Butcher, on the other side of the phone chuckles at the questioning lilt of your tone, and you feel yourself flush even deeper, although you didn't know that could be possible. When he speaks next, you can hear the smug grin in his voice.

"And what sort of service do ya have in mind, love?", the man continues, and his voice lowers, even deeper, as he speaks again. "I’d be more than happy to accommodate ya."

Your mind comes to a complete halt, both at how fucking attractive this man sounds, and because you actually have no clue what you want from this phone call. Of course, you know the end goal, you're not that oblivious, but you hadn't really thought of how exactly to get... there.

"Oh, um, I don't know", you whisper, shyly. "I've never really done this before..."

"That’s completely fine, darlin’, s'what I'm here for, ain't it?", and even though his words are kind, you could swear you can hear a smirk in his voice. Maybe you're just paranoid. "We’ll take it nice and slow. Why dontcha tell me what you’ve been thinkin’ about?"

You hear some shuffling around and a grunt on the other side of the line, presumably the man getting more comfortable, and even that noise evokes something within you.

"Well,", you start nervously, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. "Um, it's just that lately, I've been getting kind of... riled up over small things, and I haven't been able to really, uh, fix this problem."

You internally cringe at that absolute word vomit that you had just spewed, and you grip at your sheets and screw your eyes shut, nearly hanging up until you hear the man chuckling softly.

"So, what you're tellin' me is that ya need some help masturbating", and you're definitely sure you can hear the smirk in his voice now. "Do I have it right, lovie?"

You nod, unable to command yourself to speak, until you cop onto the fact that Butcher can't actually see you. You manage a quiet little "yes".

"Well, of course I'll help ya, love", Butcher says softly, and you nearly melt as your fingers loosen their death grip on the sheets. "It's me bloody job and I'm fuckin' amazing at it, so we'll have your little problem sorted and you'll be right as rain."

If you weren't so nervous, you'd be full on beaming, and you can feel yourself nodding along to the man's words.

"And 'cause I'm so damn good at what I do, I can already tell you're not much of a talker", and thank god for sexy, intelligent men. "That ain't no big deal to me, love. I'll just tell ya what to do, and your only job is to enjoy yourself and let me know if ya want to stop at anytime."

You nod, and you chide yourself for being so silly, but it doesn't matter because it's almost as if Butcher could sense it through the phone, and he proceeds anyway.

"First, I want ya to get comfy. Do whatever you gotta do, darlin', I'm in no rush."

You hurry to lie back, limbs splayed out over your plush duvet. You try your best to calm yourself down with a few deep breaths, but you struggle to keep your excitement at bay.

"Now, just listen to the sound of me voice", his gravely voice softens, and you focus all of your attention solely on him. "Let me guide ya. I want ya to start by slowly and gently brushing your skin with your nails."

You do just that. You rake your nails softly on the exposed parts of your body, enjoying how it stimulates you and makes your skin tingle.

His voice gets low and soft as he continues.

"Follow the lines of your body, love. Across your stomach, down your sides, wherever it feels nice. If it helps ya, picture me touchin’ you, my hands moving across your skin."

Oh god, why did he have to go and do that. You can just imagine it now, with your eyes shut, breaths deepening as your hands roam your body, an impeccably handsome man, big hands exploring every inch of your skin, leaving a burning trail in their path.

"Good girl, you’re doing very well", his voice still low and seductive. "I want ya to keep moving your hands. Slide them up, higher, towards your tits."

Your face burns at his language, but you comply regardless, shivering at the sensitive touch.

"Imagine it’s my hands that are on your skin, touchin' ya", his voice is as soft as velvet, and even though you can hear the teasing smirk in his tone, you can't bring yourself to care as you get lost in your fantasies of a faceless British man caressing you with all of the care in the world. "My hands moving just as yours are. Do ya like it, lovie?"

You manage to utter a breathless "yes" as you continue your ministrations. You can hear the grin as he continues speaking.

"I’m glad, love. Now, I want ya to close your hands as you reach your chest, let your nails dig into your skin. Not hard enough to hurt, just…enough to feel good, yeah?

You startle a bit at that, but you do as you're told anyway, and find that it actually feels kind of nice, in contrast with the barely there touches from earlier.

"You’re doin' really good. Relax into the feeling f'me, love", Butcher's voice dips into a whisper, and you can hear some movement on the other side of the line as he readjusts himself, but you pay no mind. "Slide your hands higher, higher, until ya reach your neck. Wrap your hand around your throat, darlin'. Not too hard now, don't want ya dyin' on my watch."

"Feels good", you surprise yourself when you huff out a response that wasn't even required, and you curl in on yourself in embarrassment.

He gives another soft laugh as your words. He’s enjoying this.

"Really good, lovie, well done", he cooes slightly, and you can still hear his smile. "'Want ya to imagine I’m in the room with ya, my fingers exploring whatever part of your body I want to."

And oh god, how you want that. One hand leaves your throat to wander down further south, and your body quivers in anticipation.

"Move your hands from your neck now, love", he goes on, almost as if he had sensed that you wanted to speed things up a little bit. "Move them down. Slowly. Across your chest. Down your sides again. Down to your hips. Keep 'em there."

Your fingers venture down further, slowly, and as the heat spreads across your whole body, you can feel a certain wetness building up in your panties too.

"Imagine me lips against your skin. Against your neck, your shoulders, your tits", Butcher continues, his voice still below a whisper, soft and sensual, and it's amazing how just a man's voice could make your body react so much. "Me hands running across your body, down your hips. Across the insides of your thighs, would ya like that lovie?"

You nod and bite down on your lip to refrain from letting out any embarrassing noises.

"Slide your hands lower, darlin’", he pauses for a second, and you can hear his heavy breathing and some rustling on his end. "Run 'em over your thighs, your legs."

"Does it make ya feel good, love?", his words slur together almost, and it turns into a smooth purr, his smirk still audible. "Imagining me there, me hands on your skin, me lips against your neck. Pressin' against ya, and makin' ya shudder. Makin' ya squirm beneath me. You'd probably make the cutest noises too if ya weren't so damn shy."

He lets his words hang in the air for a second, and your brain is still trying to comprehend everything that he'd just said to you. His voice goes even lower when he speaks again, continuing his gentle guidance.

"Slide your hand between your legs, darlin'. Use your other hand to touch the inside of your thigh. Move it up, slowly. Imagine it’s my touch that you’re feelin'. My hands that are makin' ya feel so good."

You reach your fingers slowly down towards the heat, and press against the wet patches on your panties. They're nearly soaked, and otherwise you'd be embarrassed by how undone you've become by just the voice of a stranger, but you can't find it in yourself as you plunge your hand into your panties.

Your fingers circle your lips, and you let your other hand trail into the wetness, rubbing gently as you focus your attention on Butcher's voice.

"Imagine my lips against your skin, tracing a line down your stomach. Where do ya want 'em t'go, lovie?", he makes a soft sound, a mixture between a moan and a grunt, as he continues to speak. He lets out a low laugh. "I'm only fuckin' with ya, I know exactly where you want them to go."

You hear his smirk widening, and you flush even more as you trace little circles around your clit as he speaks.

"Mmm, yes, love, right between your legs, I know. I'd love for ya t'know the things I’m thinking about you, the things I’d be doing to ya if I was in the room with ya right now."

You can't contain the whimper of want you emit when he says that last bit, and you're so stimulated, what with your fingers teasing your clit and his seductive voice on the phone that you can't even muster up any shame.

He chuckles, his voice almost as thick as honey as he speaks.

"Oh, ya like the sound of that, love? Imagining me in your room, on top of ya. Do you want to know what I’m thinkin' about ya right now, darlin’?"

"Mmhm", you just about manage to make out, because even though you were dead set on not uttering a single word unless you absolutely had to to prevent yourself from making a fool of yourself, you just have to know what he's on about.

Your hand works faster and faster, and you slip a finger into the warmth, pumping faster and faster as he speaks.

"I’m imaginin' ya lying on your back, darlin’. I’m on top of ya, me arms pressed against the bed, my body against yours", He lowers his voice to almost a whisper, the smirk on his face audible in his words.

"Imagine I’m on my knees, love, right in front of you, between your legs, me face in front of your hips", your breath stutters as your hand continues to work, maintaining speed and you can feel yourself nearing climax. "Ya want to know some of the things I’m thinkin', darlin’?"

You whimper again, and Butcher takes that as an affirmative.

He laughs again, moving the receiver away as he lets out a chuckle before returning to the low, soft voice. He’s getting much more into this now, his own excitement starting to show in his words. The words are so low that they almost melt together like the sofy purr of an engine.

"I want to taste ya, love. The image of your body, of being so close to ya, it’s driving me bloody mental", he grins, you can hear it in the way he speaks. "I’m thinkin' about how good you’d taste, lovie, how bad I want to taste ya all over. How badly I want to run my tongue over your body, how much I want to make ya moan."

The heat becomes unbearable as you continue to rub your clit in erratic circular motions, and finger yourself.

Nearly there.

"Christ, the things I'd do to ya if I was there", a low laugh escapes his mouth, "you know what my hand is doing right now, love?"

So close, so close.

"And y'know what? If I had ya, pliant and obedient underneath me, I'd lick a fat stripe up your cunt and eat you out like a starving man"

Oh my fucking god.

You let out a moan as you climax, and you hear Butcher grunt in unison. Your vision is a mixture of hot white and blurriness. Your chest heaves as you pant, trying to catch your breath, and your fingers cramp up as you pull them away from the warm, sticky mess that once were your panties.

You hear Butcher moving on the other side of the phone.

"Well, thanks for the wank, lovie, pleasure doin' business with you", Butcher's voice is low, a bit more hoarse now than when the phone call had started, but the smug undertone is still there. "Don't worry 'bout payin', it's on the house since it was so enjoyable for me too."

Your cheeks heat up again as you hear his deep voice chuckle. You can't help but feel a twinge of bittersweetness now that the moment is over, but it's overcome by relief and a warm tiredness that makes your eyelids heavy.

"I hope your little problem is fixed now, darlin'. Call back again sometime, and ask for Butcher."

He hangs up, and you're stuck in your bed wondering how many times is deemed acceptable to ring a phone sex hotline in a week.

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elusivewildflower · 11 months ago

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Never Leaving You Again | Colt Seavers x GN! Reader

Pairing: Colt Seavers x GN! Reader

Summary: After getting into a car accident and being unconscious for several days, Reader wakes up to find their ex-boyfriend Colt in their hospital room. They haven't spoken since his own accident over a year ago and Reader isn't exactly thrilled to see him.

Warnings: Hospitals, mention of injuries, very angsty as reader was ghosted by Colt a year ago and now he's shown back up. Ends happily, though!

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: As always, thanks to the Goose Groupies for the help with ideas and encouragement!! This is loosely based off of this idea that @hederasgarden reblogged the other day! I've still got another Colt fic that is nearly finished, as this idea was a nice surprise to take over my muse! I hope you all enjoy! Please like and reblog!

As you regain consciousness, the first thing you notice is the sound of rhythmic beeping. Your eyelids feel heavy and your mouth is drier than the Sahara Desert. It takes a few attempts of opening your eyes before you’re finally successful. When you do, you’re greeted by the sight of a tiled ceiling. A few moments later and you begin to become aware of the rest of your body. Your head is pounding, you have a sharp pain in your ribs every time you breathe, and you’re pretty certain one of your legs is broken. There’s other aches and pains radiating throughout your body, but you’re unable to pinpoint exactly where quite yet.

You’ve deduced that you’re in the hospital. The sound of machines beeping, the familiar weight of an I.V. needle in your arm, and the harsh lighting made that easy to figure out. Now, you just needed to remember how you had gotten here. As you push yourself up into a sitting position, which causes your ribs to ache in protest, you let out a hiss of pain. Suddenly, you’re aware that you’re not in the room alone.

“Oh thank God, you’re awake!” A cry of relief came from a voice that sounded all too familiar.

Your brows furrowed in confusion at first, and then with anger. Sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair was none other than your ex, Colt Seavers. He certainly looked worse for wear. His short blond hair was all disheveled, he had bags under his eyes, and his clothes were wrinkled.

What the hell was he doing here?

You opened your mouth to ask that very question, but no sound came out. A hand rose to your throat as you realized you desperately needed something to drink.

Sensing what you needed, Colt rushed to your bedside table to pour you a cup of water from the pitcher that sat there. Wordlessly, you accepted the drink and gulped it down in record time. Colt took the empty cup from you and sat it back down.

“How are you feeling? Would you like more water? Do you remember anything?” Colt fired questions rapidly as he worried over you.

He was acting as if everything was completely normal between you. As if he had never ghosted you over a year ago and broke your heart. It was bad enough that you were still trying to piece together what landed you in the hospital in the first place, but for him to be here too? You were beyond confused and you were livid.

“What the hell are you doing here, Colt?” Your words didn’t hold as much menace in them as you felt, but you chalked that up to the fact that your voicebox felt strained.

Colt’s face fell drastically. He looked like a puppy that had just been kicked. His blue eyes darted back and forth as he tried to find his words. “I….I was your emergency contact.” He spoke softly, sounding deflated.

You sat there in silence for a moment as that information sank in. Fuck, did you really forget to change that? You shook your head, just because he was your contact and he showed up doesn’t make everything alright. He nearly died over a year ago from a stunt gone wrong and he didn’t let you sit at his bedside, so why did he deserve to sit at yours?

“You shouldn’t have come, Colt. You need to leave.” You finally broke the silence with your firm words.

Somehow Colt’s face fell even further. You didn’t understand why he looked so devastated. Neither of you had spoken since his accident, and it wasn’t from lack of trying – at least on your part. He ignored every single phone call and text message you sent. After a while, you had to give up. It wasn’t healthy to continue begging a man to let you take care of him – to be there for him.

Tears began to well up in Colt’s eyes as he looked away from you. He sniffled and chuckled ruefully before speaking. “I thought if you still had me as your contact, then that meant you would want me here…”

Your mouth dropped open for a moment as you were at a loss for words. You stared at him in disbelief. “We haven’t spoken in over a year, Colt! You….you ghosted me!” Colt flinched as your voice raised, but you continued on. “You ignored me!” Your arms flailed around wildly as you shouted. “You shut me out!” By now, tears had welled up in your own eyes and were trailing down your cheeks. “Why would I want you here?!”

Colt didn’t have a chance to respond as the volume of your voice must’ve alerted the nurses you were finally awake. Seconds later, one popped in with a concerned look. “Is everything alright in here?”

You glanced between the nurse and Colt with a heavy sigh, but nodded. Colt remained silent and his gaze was now glued to the floor. Every so often you could hear him sniffle and his hand would raise to wipe at his nose. You tried your best to blink back your tears as the nurse came over to check your vitals.

The air in the room was heavy and uncomfortable as the nurse asked you various questions about what you remembered. It started with your name, your birthday, where you worked, and ended with what you recalled from your accident. Thankfully, in the last ten minutes of arguing with Colt, the memory of the car crash had come back to you. What you didn’t realize, however, was that you had been unconscious for several days. The nurse took her time explaining to you the extent of your injuries and that you’d be staying in the hospital for at least a few more days. She refilled your cup with water and told you the doctor would be in to see you shortly before leaving. She shot one last glance towards Colt on her way out.

Now, the two of you were alone again. After you reached over to grab your cup of water and take a few sips from it, your attention settled on Colt. God, he really looked like shit. Even more so now that his eyes were red and puffy from crying. He still refused to look up from the tiled floor, but you could see the tears that continued to fall down his face. You let out another heavy sigh, ignoring the sharp pain in your ribs. He was crying because of you. While a part of you rejoiced to know that he felt at least a fraction of the hurt you felt when he left you, the other part of you ached with regret.

You set your cup back on the bedside table. “Have you been here the whole time?” You asked softly.

Colt finally lifted his gaze to meet yours and nodded. “I came as soon as I got the call.” He then chuckled wetly as he brushed away a few tears and sniffled. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

The ache in your heart only worsened at his admission and tears were blurring your vision. But there was still one nagging question you had to ask. “Why didn’t you let me be there for you?”

Now it was Colt’s turn to sigh heavily. His hands rubbed up and down his thighs as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I…was embarrassed and felt like a failure.” His eyes refused to meet yours as he continued. “I nearly killed myself in front of you and the whole crew because I made a miscalculation– which turns out, wasn’t a miscalculation at all.” His words confused you, but he didn’t leave any time for you to speak. “But, at the time I thought I had screwed up. I didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of the….serious stuff.”

All you could do was shake your head as Colt rambled on. “You know, the surgeries, the rehab, the…bathroom stuff.” He gave a shrug of his shoulders. “After a while, I realized my mistake. But I thought it was too late….That you had probably moved on.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “When I got that call…” He trailed off for a moment, wiping away fresh tears that had fallen down his cheeks. “I finally knew how you felt that day and I am so sorry for shutting you out.” Colt finally let his baby blues meet yours as he apologized.

“I thought that if I was your emergency contact, that maybe I hadn’t missed my chance.” His eyes fell from yours once more as he shook his head solemnly. “I see now that I was wrong…” Colt pushed himself up from his seat and heaved a sigh, glancing towards the door before speaking once more. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m still in love with you.”

As you watched him walk towards the door, your heart felt as if it was breaking into two all over again. You knew deep down that you couldn’t let him leave. “Colt, wait–.”

He halted in his tracks and looked at you expectantly. You could see it written all over his face – the hope that you would tell him what he desperately wanted to hear.

More tears cascaded down your cheeks and your lips trembled as you drew in a shaky breath. “I’m still in love with you too.” You admitted softly.

A beaming smile spread across Colt’s face as he laughed with relief. He was happier than you had seen him in a very long time. In mere seconds he crossed the room and crashed his lips against yours. His large, calloused, hand reached for your jaw and held you in place. He didn’t want you pulling away from him any time soon, but you had no plans of doing that anyway. One of your hands threaded through his messy hair as you passionately devoured each other. His thick beard scratched across your skin, but you loved every second of it. Your heart rate was increasing by the minute, the rhythmic beeping kicking up in tempo, but neither of you cared. It had been far too long since your last kiss. When you absolutely had to pull away for air, there was hardly a gap between you. Your breaths mingled and noses nuzzled against each other gently.

After a moment of having full oxygen in your brain again, your confusion from earlier returned. Your brows furrowed as you posed your question. “What did you mean by your accident wasn’t a miscalculation?”

Colt chuckled softly, planting another kiss on your lips. “Oh, sweetheart, we’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

This time, you couldn’t help but laugh too. “Mm, eighteen months is a long time to be apart.” Your mind is briefly filled with all of the things you would have to catch him up on. For the first time in a long time, you feel giddy.

“And I’m never leaving you again.” He murmured confidently, the tears in his blue eyes finally drying up as a light now shined within them.

You captured his lips in a tender kiss and he responded eagerly. It wasn’t long before his tongue was licking into your mouth and exploring every inch that he had missed in your time apart. You knew there was much for you to discuss, and you had a lengthy road to recovery, but there was no one else in the world you’d rather be with than Colt.

The two of you would figure it out – and that gave you hope for the first time in over a year.

#colt seavers fic #the fall guy fic #colt seavers x reader #colt seavers x gn! reader #colt seavers #the fall guy #ryan gosling fic #ryan gosling #my fics

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harringtonfeels · 4 days ago

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family

4.6k | Fluff and a healthy dose of hurt/comfort | Stepdad!Steve x Reader | Kid fic | Fluff, Angst

When Reader spends Mother's Day feeling like she's failing as a parent and a partner, her boyfriend Steve helps change her perspective.

Notes: This is a little Mother's Day fic. Reader's kid is a ~4 year old named Henry (and I love him). Hurt/comfort is involving the general mom guilt when raising a kid post-divorce.

It hasn't been a bad day - well, not exactly. It's Mother's Day, and you were supposed to have the day off work but were called in to handle an emergency while your boss is away on vacation. You'd had plans for the day already and had to cancel almost all of them.

First was breakfast in bed, although that one had been a bit up in the air. Your son is at the age where, when he wakes up before you, he wants to climb right into your bed and sandwich himself between you and Steve, poking your arm and carefully prying open your eyelids until you wake up. Sleeping in isn't usually an option unless Steve gets up with him so you can enjoy some blessed sleep alone, so it was already highly dependent on what time Henry decided to get out of bed. Ultimately, not a huge loss, but it was a nice pipe dream, nonetheless.

Then, after nap time, you were supposed to have a picnic in the park, just you and your boys. Steve already prepped the food and got a cooler ready last night, and set aside everyone's swim clothes for the splash pad.

And then you were supposed to have a lowkey dinner at home with them, and a nice, long bath, too, if you were lucky.

Any of those things would have been more than enough. The weather's been beautiful this spring, and you've been so busy, you haven't been able to spend as much time with Henry on the weekends as you'd like. It's something you've been lamenting a lot lately. Your job requires a lot of you, a lot more than it used to. You took the job when you separated from your ex because you needed a way to provide for your son without relying on a marriage that just wasn't working anymore. But now, it's two years later, and the time is flying by, and you know the things you're missing with Henry are things you'll never get back. So you've been trying hard to cherish the time you do have with him. It's just nearly impossible to put the energy into it that you want to when you're constantly working overtime with no end in sight.

Steve has been a huge help the past year that you've been dating. He met Henry for the first time about six months in, and although Henry was shy at first, they've been thick as thieves almost from the start. Steve is always at your house on the weekends, and he's converted the guest bedroom at his place into a room for Henry. He picks him up from pre-school when you need him to, which is becoming more and more frequent with your increasing workload. He joins you for doctor's appointments and holds Henry's hand at the dentist. You don't think there are enough words in the world to express to Steve how grateful you are for his help, or for how much you can tell he loves being a part of Henry's life - and a part of yours, even when it's messy.

Today, more than ever, you're determined to update your resume and start looking elsewhere. Because it's Mother's Day, and it's an hour to Henry's bedtime, and you're just now walking through the front door, tears welling in the corners of your eyes.

The way everything has been piling up the last few months, it feels more overwhelming than when you first became a single mother.

As you're turning to lock the door, you hear the pitter patter of little feet stomping down the hall.

"Mommy!" Henry says, and before you can even hang up your purse, you're tackled from behind, little arms wrapping around one of your legs.

"Hi, baby," you laugh, looking over your shoulder at him. He's got a toy car in one hand and is mashing it into your thigh, but even as tired as you are, it's hard to care about the discomfort. You reach down and ruffle his hair, moving your leg laboriously before he sits down to wrap his legs around your ankle. Only as you're trudging across the living room with a thirty five pound ankle weight do you notice the smell in the air.

Dinner.

Henry giggles as you grunt with each step, and you're smiling, too, all your worries presently forgotten at the door. When you round the corner to the kitchen, you see Steve dressed in slacks and a button-up, sleeves rolled up just below the elbows. Your eyes linger where his tanned forearm flexes as he stirs the sauce simmering on the stove, and when Steve catches you staring, he doesn't even make fun of you.

"How's our girl?" he asks, wiping his hands with a dishtowel and tossing it over his shoulder before closing the gap between you. He presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

With a playful smile, you say, "Well, I thought I was doing alright, but suddenly, I'm feeling a little weighed down."

The laugh that pours out of Henry is infectious, and Steve is all smiles as he leans down to Henry's level and pries him off your legs. "Do you want to tell Mama what we did today?" he asks, setting Henry on his feet.

This is a new game you play together. Henry has always been a little shy, and he answers broad questions with a lot of I don't know and Nothing really. So you've been working on feeling more comfortable sharing. You always give Henry the opportunity to go first, but today, he seems to want to hide his face behind your leg, even though he's smiling. So you start.

"Well, today, I got a fancy breakfast at Brew & Bloom, and they gave me a free cookie because the barista liked my aura."

Steve hums, already diving back into his sauce. "Oh, yeah? What did they say about your aura? What color was it?"

"Motherly?" you guess. With your hastily applied mascara and less than stellar hair, you certainly look the part today, although that has less to do with being a mom and more to do with getting abruptly called in to work. "What did you do today, Steve?"

He hums as though he's thinking. "When I did laundry today, I found a gummy worm in somebody's shorts."

"Was it tasty?" Henry asks.

Steve's face scrunches, and you laugh. "It was a little crunchy," he says, "but it was one of the pink and blue ones, so you know it was still delicious."

Henry pulls a face at that. "You didn't eat it," he says disbelievingly.

"I totally did!" Steve's voice is slightly higher than usual, a dead giveaway that he's lying. "If you don't believe me, you can smell my breath. It'll be just like a gummy worm."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Why don't you c'mere then and give it a try?" Steve teases, eyes full of mirth, and you blink, feeling an overwhelming wave of fondness wash over you.

When Henry hesitantly steps out from behind you as though to approach, Steve switches off the burner and pivots, the directness of his step a clear prelude to a chase if you've ever seen one. Henry is too slow to piece it together, and just as he's starting to move his feet, Steve scoops him up in his arms and holds him up. Henry wriggles violently as Steve pretends to eat his stomach like a watermelon, laughing hysterically the whole time.

After a few seconds of this, Steve sets Henry back down on the ground, both of them breathing hard, and you lean against the doorframe, observing.

"Tell Mom what you did today," Steve prompts again when they've both caught their breath.

Henry takes a seat on the floor and picks up two of his cars, which are lying about on the rug. Absentmindedly pushing them around the little streets patterned into it, he says, "Steve played dinosaurs with me, and he told me all about this one called a place-iosaurus."

"Plesiosaurus," Steve whispers loudly from the doorway.

"Ooh," you say, settling yourself onto your knees beside him. He seems to be chasing the red car with the silver one around the little cartoon hospital building. "Can you tell me about the plesiosaurus?"

Steve seems to be wrapping up dinner as you find a green car to join Henry with, and he prattles off facts that sound accurate, or at least believable to your ears. It's apparently somewhat turtle-shaped, with a long, long neck. "Like a brack-osaurus," he says.

"The noble brachiosaurus," you repeat sagely, and Henry looks up at you like you've hung the moon. You don't know all that much about dinosaurs, but that's been his thing recently, so you've all been learning. You can tell how much he loves it when you remember the things he gets excited about. One day, he won't find you so exciting, and you know that, so you're trying to enjoy it now, while you can.

You play for about fifteen minutes before Steve calls from the dining room to let you both know dinner is ready. You have to remind Henry not to run into the dining room - more than once, he's rounded a corner directly into you or Steve while you were carrying a large container of food, or plates.

When you enter the room, Steve has set the table with your nice dishes, the porcelain ones with the flowers on them. You can't remember the last time you used them - surely, when you were married, at least. But Steve has gotten out a nice tablecloth, which you know must have been stored in the back of the linen closet, and placemats. There are a couple of wine glasses for the two of you, and Henry's green, plastic cup is already filled with juice in front of his seat.

"Did you iron this?" you ask Steve, hand on the tablecloth as Henry seats himself.

"Tell me when," he tells Henry as he starts to dole out food. Then, he glances up at you, expression sheepish. "Maybe."

You didn't even know Steve knew how to iron at all.

After a few scoops, when Henry hasn't told him to stop, Steve laughs at his expectant little expression. "Okay, why don't we start with this, buddy?"

He serves you as well, and your cheeks burn at the gentleness of it all. It's not that Steve never does this sort of thing. You're just still not used to being treated so kindly, and Steve - well, Steve is old fashioned in all the good ways. He opens doors for you, carries your groceries. To his core, he's so, so considerate. It never fails to impress you. Sometimes, you catch yourself waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never comes.

Steve can cook quite well. When you first got together, he wasn't that great at it, but many nights, he's helped you in the kitchen or made dinner when you were at his house. He's a quick learner. At this point, he's probably a better cook than you are, and it shows with tonight's meal.

After dinner, Steve tells you to go relax, and he takes care of bathtime. You're not exactly sure what to do with yourself, so you find yourself curled up on the couch, watching TV and ruminating on the day.

Steve has done so much for you these last few weeks that it's hard to process it all. You love that he likes spending time with Henry, and that he never complains. But, even though he stays over a lot, you aren't even living together yet. It's hard not to feel guilty about, well, everything.

When you first started dating, Steve told you he's always wanted kids, and you think with a little more time, maybe he'll even love Henry like one of his own. You can already see it on his face, when he talks about him, long after Henry's gone to bed. When he updates you on the things they've done throughout the day, tells stories about this funny thing Henry said, or oh my god, you should have seen his face. Maybe Steve loves him already.

But it's not fair to him to be doing this much work, especially not this soon. And you don't see the situation at work getting any better, at least not in the coming months. It's one of those things, where someone leaves and they opt not to replace them, over and over, until one person is doing the job of several. And they've got no intention of hiring anyone else to help you. And meanwhile, you're trying to make the most of your time with your son, and you're also trying to make the most of your relationship with Steve. It's hard to have a relationship with someone who can't devote the time.

An old friend called you the other day, told you their new company is hiring and said they thought you'd be a perfect fit. It's almost exactly the same pay, with fewer responsibilities - and, most importantly, no overtime. Tomorrow, you tell yourself. Tomorrow, I'll revise my resume, and I'll send it over and I'll do whatever I have to do to get this job. Whatever it takes to be able to be more present in your life again.

You can hear Henry giggling almost the whole time, splashing with his rubber ducks and his boats. As usual, when Henry starts whining, you know they're about to vacate the bathroom. Sure enough, the door swings open, and they both trudge down the hall to Henry's room, Henry in his koala towel with the hood up, and Steve in his yellow swim trunks. His hair is a mess, and he's got bubbles all over his forearms and in his hair. You're so endeared, you think - despite the fact that you want him to stop having to pick up your slack - you could get used to seeing him this way.

You move quickly, following them to Henry's room to help with pajamas and a bedtime story. While you let Henry choose his bedtime story - The True Story of the Three Little Pigs, it is - Steve goes to your bedroom to change into a pair of sweats and a tee shirt. Henry's thrilled that Steve is doing storytime; it's usually just you, but Steve does silly voices better, and he always makes sure the bad guys sound extra silly.

Henry picks out some Buzz Lightyear jammies, and once he's dressed and his hair is dried, Steve says, "Why don't you show Mama what you made her today?"

You raise your eyebrows and watch as Henry dutifully trots over to his dresser and pulls a sheet of paper off the top. It's a white sheet of copy paper with four carefully drawn stick figures, three big and one small. In Steve's handwriting across the bottom, it reads Happy Mother's Day - Love, Henry with the year etched into the corner.

Henry looks up at you with cautious optimism, like he's unsure if he should hand it over, or if you'll like it, but thinks you probably will. You've seen that face on him a million times. It's the same as when you tickle him between his neck and shoulder and he leans his little head over to fend you off, fighting a grin the whole time.

"Hmmm, who could this be?" you ask, pointing to the stick figure that's about half the size of the others, who wears a very convincing blue box of a shirt and brown shorts.

"It's me, silly," Henry says with a little belly laugh and waits expectantly for you to keep going.

You cock your head to the side and inspect the three adults. It looks to be maybe one woman (you) and a man, but the third one has long hair and pants, so it's anyone's guess, really. "And this one is me?" you ask, pointing at the lone stick figure wearing a dress. You assume he learned triangle dresses symbolize women from pre-school, but then again, the figure looks suspiciously like the symbol for a women's restroom, so it's hard to say.

He nods emphatically.

"Wow. I can tell you worked really hard on this. I like the stripes on my dress." He has recently developed a real desire to color between the lines without any mistakes, and you're careful not to say anything to reward "perfection" above effort.

"Thank you," he says, very businesslike.

Your eyes shift back over to the other two characters. "And who is this?" you ask.

Henry frowns. "That's Steve," he says, like it should have been obvious. Maybe it should have been.

He's put out that you had to ask, clearly, and you nod. "Oh, right. I thought so."

"Yeah, it's obviously Steve," Steve interjects, "because of his beautiful hair."

"Exactly!" Henry says with a little gap-toothed grin.

You roll your eyes at Steve, and then your eyes rove over the other stick figure. Henry doesn't wait for you to ask, just says, "And that's Daddy."

You should have known. You really should have, and you should have expected it, but it feels like a gut punch. It's sweet that Henry included Steve in the photo. It would have been sweet if he'd included his dad with you and Henry, too. But it's painful, seeing him try to include all the people he loves, and knowing very little of his life will ever include all four of you together. Seeing how happy Henry is, and how much love he put into this drawing makes your heart ache.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you lean down and pull him in for a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "It's beautiful, honey. Can I put this on the fridge?"

"On the front," he suggests.

All through storytime, your mind wanders. You can't help but ruminate on all the things you wish you were doing differently, how you wish things would have been different with you and Henry's dad. How you wish things were just easier in general. And how you can't shake the constant nagging feeling that you aren't doing enough in really any area of your life. You're lucky Steve does all the reading tonight and you're just there for moral support.

When you tuck him in and kiss his forehead, he wrestles free of his blanket and extends his arms toward Steve, demanding another hug. Then he demands Steve tuck him back in as well.

You remember how impatient your ex could be with things like this, all the times Henry reached for him and was brushed aside. You think of all the times it probably still happens when he's with his dad and you're not there to run interference. Once you're back in the privacy of the hallway, Steve already cleaning up in the dining room and the bedroom door shut snugly behind you, you start to cry.

You didn't know it would be this hard, is all. When you decided to have a kid, you knew there was a chance, like with any couple, that you may not be together forever. But you never thought that a guy who's known your kid for six months would be a kinder and more present parent than his own father. And it hadn't occurred to you that Henry could ever want someone to be a part of his life in the same way as you and his dad. It wasn't until you began the process of divorce that you ever seriously considered you might eventually introduce someone to Henry, and that Henry may not understand why you can't all be one big, happy family together.

Henry doesn't ask much about his dad anymore, but he sees him frequently enough that he doesn't forget him. Frequently enough that he still gets excited to sit in the windowseat and watch the driveway for his dad to pick him up.

The dishes clatter as Steve carries them to the kitchen, and then the faucet turns on in the kitchen, so the sound of your sniffling in the living room is muffled. You put your head in your hands, like that can hide the sound of your heart breaking. But after a couple of minutes, when Steve shuts the tap off, he must hear you. "Baby," he calls, panic filling his voice.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" The couch dips beside you under his weight, and he takes one of your hands in his, wet with tears.

You don't know what to say. There's so much to cry about, honestly, and it's hard to know where to start. And Steve has done so much for you already, and you don't want to put this on him. You wish, selfishly, that he would have done the dishes for a little bit longer so you could have finished crying without him ever knowing.

You force yourself to slow down your breathing, leaning into him and letting him wrap his arms around you. Steve gives the best hugs, you think, and only an idiot would refuse one.

His hand smooths down the hair at the crown of your head, and you paw at your cheeks with your sleeve, struggling to wipe your tears away as they're still rolling.

Finally, voice trembling, you say, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry for crying." His voice is gentle. You know that he means it.

"I'm not. I mean, that's not what I was apologizing for." Drawing a shaky breath, you rest your head on his chest and look across the room, clenching your fist tightly. "I'm just—I'm sorry you had to do all this today. And every day, lately."

You can hear the confusion in his voice. "I didn't really have to," he says plainly. "I wanted to do everything. Actually, I wanted to do more than this and just didn't have enough time."

"This isn't your responsibility, though. Not just Mother's Day - just - everything. You've been doing so much, and you're so good with Henry, and I know he loves you. And—"

"And I love him," Steve says calmly, brown eyes wide with earnestness, "and I love you." You don't know what to say to that. If he was looking to disarm you, he was successful. After a pause, he continues, "Look, you've been doing too much. You're too hard on yourself. If I didn't want to be this involved with Henry, I wouldn't be. If I didn't have time to watch him, I'd tell you. But I want to, and I can, so I do."

"It's just not fair to you."

He shrugs. "It doesn't feel unfair to me."

There's a long silence, and now that you've stopped crying, you do a much better job of wiping your eyes. Finally, you say, "It really hurt me to see all of us in his picture. It's just—I don't think he understands yet that his dad will hardly be in the same room with me, let alone spend a day with you and me and Henry. And it's so sweet that he put us all together, but it feels so wrong, knowing how much love he has in his heart for all of us and that we'll never be a family again."

Steve laces his fingers with yours and brushes his thumb against your wrist in reassuring strokes. "Honey, it's gonna be okay. You don't have to be a family with him for us all to be Henry's family. Hell, if there's anything I've learned over the years, it's that family is what you make it. I've got family I'm not related to, and plenty of them have never even met each other. It's okay if Henry's family looks a little different. We're still his."

It takes a little time for you to ruminate on it, but you know Steve's right. Finally, you lament, "I think I'm just scared that one day, I'll have to explain it to him why our family doesn't look like his friends' families, and that it will hurt him to hear."

Steve presses a kiss to your hairline and murmurs, "It's hard to be the one having the big talks. But maybe he already knows, and maybe it won't seem that weird, as long as we make sure he knows he's loved. Lots of kids have stepdads, or live with their grandma, or are adopted. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Of course there's nothing wrong with it," you say, "but I'm afraid he'll think it means there's something wrong."

"Then it's our job to make his life as normal and full of love as possible. And—Honey, look at me." When you lift your head and look into Steve's brown eyes, you wonder what he sees. If your mascara is smudged all over your face, if your eyes are puffy. And then he says, "I need you to know you're doing a great job."

It feels like it can't possibly be true. With how much you work, how much extra effort you feel like you have to put in to meet your own standards lately.

"Seriously," he says, "I see you doubting yourself sometimes, or feeling sorry for needing to ask for my help, but you're doing your best. And it may not look how you want it to, but even Henry can see how hard you work to give him a good life."

You sit up then, brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know what he said to me today? He told me he wanted to make you a perfect picture for Mother's Day because he knows you miss him when you're gone." You blink back at him, surprised. "And he told me earlier this week that he likes how you don't rush him when he doesn't know what to say. So, yeah, maybe things aren't how you want them right now, and it's hard. But if Henry can see what an incredible mother you are, I think you can give yourself some credit."

You sit with that for a few moments, trying to internalize it. Sometimes, you get so caught up in trying to be the right kind of parent and do all the right things, that you don't realize Henry might actually notice the things you do.

"And, for the record," Steve adds, "I don't just love spending time with him. I love being here when you come home, and spending time with you - with or without him. I'd go anywhere you were, no matter what we were doing."

After a beat, you say, "I'm putting in for a new job. So I can be home more."

He sits back, eyes roving your face. "Really?" His voice sounds almost hopeful.

You nod. "Yeah, I just need to update my resume, and… I think I've got a shot, actually, with this place my friend works at."

Steve's face lights up, and he makes you tell him all the details - what you'd be doing, where it is, how the pay compares. He's so excited that, for the first time all day, you actually feel yourself relax a little.

He offers to make you each a glass of wine to celebrate, and you accept, although you remind him that you haven't been offered a position, exactly. He doesn't seem to care, and when he makes it into the kitchen, he says, "Oh. I almost forgot."

When he returns, he's carrying a vase of flowers - your favorite flowers, the very same ones he brought you on your first date. He sets them on the coffee table before sitting down and passing you your glass of wine. "Happy Mother's Day, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #kid fic

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mickandmusings · 9 months ago

Text

vi. 'tis the damn season

part of the 'hangman & honey' series!

summary: for the past six months, jake has spent every spare moment attempting to mend communication between he and honey. for months, he uses his phone calls to phone her, leave long voicemails, and writes her multiple letters a week. his efforts come with no avail, she never calls or writes him back. with christmas around the corner, jake makes his way back home to texas, but not before making an important stop along the way.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: 18+ mdni!! (dirty talk, but no explicit descriptions); definite military inaccuracies; definite college inaccuracies; general angst; christmas story in august?

'Dear Honey,

I know this is the third or fourth letter this week, and I'm not even sure if you're receiving these, but I can't just not write to you. I left you another voicemail, and I'm not sure if you're listening to those either, but I have talked to you nearly everyday since we were nine, and, well, that's not a habit you break easily. I called you on your birthday last week and left a message, and I sent you a card, I hope you got them both.

Honey, I'm sorry. I'll say it in every voicemail and every letter until you believe me. I shouldn't have taken so long to tell you the truth. I regret it. If I could take it all back, you know I would. I didn't do it to hurt you, I never want to hurt you. But I know I did, and no words I could say or write will change that. I'm sorry. I'll say it over and over again until you understand how much I mean that.

I know you likely don't want to hear about my time here, but I've always told you everything. If you don't want to hear me talk about it, I thought you might read about it. I can't ever remember a time you weren't reading.

Life here is different. Not bad, just...hard. The weather is certainly cooler than the winters back home. We even got snow, true snow, not the shitty kind we get in Haven. It sticks to the ground, and you can actually play in it, not just bust your ass on ice and sleet. Things are always very routine and strict, but, considering it's a week til Christmas break, things are looking up. Honestly, I've never been more ready to go back home to Texas. Granny said she spoke to you about coming home for Christmas, since you missed Thanksgiving? I really hope you'll come around. I miss you, Honey. I haven't heard your voice since that voicemail you sent me in October. Look, you can stay at the other house, I'll set it up for you before you even get here. Or, I'll stay there, and you can have our my room. You don't even have to talk to me, just please come. Just seeing you would be enough.

My bunkmate, Javy, the one I've mentioned to you for the past few months, he's from New Orleans. He's coming home for Christmas, and he's going to drop me off at the airport there. I'll fly back to Austin from there, and Pawpaw will be there to pick me up. Sometimes, at night or when we have spare time, Javy tells me about his life back home in Louisiana. More often than not, it makes me think of you. They make me think of the birthday beignets you make for Pawpaw, and how you'd make us gumbo in the winter. Frankly, everything makes me think of you. Honey, I see you everywhere. There are these bushes outside Bancroft Hall, and they're full of these little white and red flowers. I'm not sure what they're called, but they're pretty, and I know you'd love them. There's a kid in one of my morning classes, and he's got your accent too. It's nice to hear, I haven't heard your voice in so long. I hope the Magnolia State is treating you well. I imagine you're much happier with your favorite flower all around you.

I don't have much else to tell you about. I'd like to tell you my other stories when we're face to face again. I just wanted to let you know I miss you, and I love you, always. Call me back or write to me whenever you get the chance, if you're feeling up to it.

All my love,

Jake'

Honey holds the paper tightly in her hands, letting it crinkle under the pressure of her grasp. If he'd sent this letter when they'd first split, she'd have balled it up or ripped it to pieces with her blinding, white-hot rage. She had been so angry when she'd first moved away, ignoring his incessant phone calls and numerous voicemails. She had let his letters pile up on her desk, unopened and unread. In the chance that he'd sent this letter just a few months later, she would have stained the ink of his letters with her tears. After her anger came a fierce sadness, one that seeped into her bones and left her incapacitated, ridden with the agony that threatened to pull her under like a rogue wave. But now, as she stares down at Jake's scratchy handwriting across the lined paper, she simply feels numb. His letter does not spark an onslaught of tears or suffocating sobs that leave her chest heaving. She simply folds the letter back up and slides it back into its envelope, placing it gently on her desktop, deciding to deal with it later, much like the emotions it evoked.

She knows she shouldn't, but she grabs the familiar orange sweatshirt that lives on her bed and throws it over her head. It comes to her knees and the sleeves are far too long, but it provides her with a comfort she almost wishes it didn't. In her tiny dorm room in Starkville, her small college town (although bigger than Haven,) she feels isolated. Her entire life for the past six months had simply been going-through-the-motions of life: wake up, go to class, come home, study, finish assignments, work a shift at her on-campus job, shower, repeat. Life had become monotonous, something that her life with Jake never was.

She knows she shouldn't wallow. She should try and get out, make more friends-more than just the lady at the circulation desk in the library-and try to enjoy her life at nineteen. But, once again, that gnawing, creeping feeling infiltrates her chest, Honey wasn't like her classmates. She wouldn't enjoy sitting in a bar or attending a frat party. She'd sit in the corner alone, nursing a drink she likely wouldn't finish, and leave with an Irish goodbye. Now, all she had was a sweatshirt that smelled faintly of the boy she once slept next to each night, and it was her only source of comfort.

Honey knows she should get up and call Mrs. Janet, to let her know that she's okay, and that she was settled. The last time she'd spoken to her or Mr. Jacob had been nearly two weeks ago. She should call Haley and Sarah Grace back, both of her hometown friends had been calling since they'd met up for the last time in October. She knows she should stop shutting those who loved her out-Jake included-but that was a different situation entirely.

Instead of doing any of the aforementioned, she simply sinks into her comforter and puts her headphones on, effectively shutting out the rest of the world. She was glad her roommate had left for her own home state, leaving her alone in the dorm room for the next two weeks. Deep down, Honey knew she was lying to herself. She yearned for the feeling of home, her true home, on a farm in Texas. She craved Mrs. Janet's cowboy cookies that she made at least two dozen too many of, and Mr. Jacob's Christmas ham that took hours to get just right, but was so worth it when it practically melted in her mouth. She missed sitting around a room full of the Seresin family, watching the children open new toys and heaps of candy. She'd laugh as they opened new clothes with sour faces, quickly ditching them for the next box in shiny wrapping. Their childlike joy made her own flare, leaving her chest warm as she giggled quietly in Jake's arms. She missed Jake sneaking them eggnog from the kitchen, and the babbling laughter they erupted into when they realized no matter how much older they got, it was always just as disgusting as the first time he'd snuck it when they were thirteen. Mostly, she missed the warm, peaceful feeling she felt when she was in a room full of people she loved most. In a bout of honesty, she admits that maybe, just maybe, she just missed Jake.

Through her headphones, she can hear the rain patter against her window, and she sighs, the weather only adding to her melancholy mood. Honey knew if she chose to rot in bed, her emotions would only grow heavier, so with a deep sigh, she rolls out of bed and slides on her worn sneakers. She takes off Jake's Longhorns hoodie and swaps it for her own, tosses the hood over her head, and grabs the keys to Jake's truck. She grabs her finished library books to return, and her wallet, deciding to wallow in the secluded section of the library instead. She walks out of her dorm room, locks the door, and takes the stairs down to the lobby. She pushes the door open and heads out into the rain.

Honey would never make it to the library that day.

Two weeks prior...

"You scribblin' away for that girl again, Seresin?"

Javy's voice fills Jake's ears, and Jake doesn't bother looking up as he shoots his roommate a middle finger salute. Javy laughs at the action before climbing into his top bunk, leaning his head against his pillow. There's silence between the two before Javy's voice cuts through again.

"So when are you gonna tell me about her?"

From the second that Javy had met Jake, it seemed like something was weighing his bunkmate down. It wasn't until a week or so later, when they both were calling home, that Javy learned it wasn't something, it was someone. Jake kept information about his girl on lock, so Javy knew little information: her name was Honey, which Javy found odd, but brushed it off. She was studying English at a college in Mississippi, and Jake had, somehow, royally fucked things up with her before he'd come to the Academy.

Jake sighs, stopping his writing as he looks up at his friend on the top bunk.

"If I tell you, will you shut up for ten minutes so I can write?"

Javy nods, his brown eyes sparkling with a stream of questions he'd been burning to ask.

"Fine, what'dya want to know?"

Javy is quiet for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, as if pondering something.

"What's she like? Wait! No, let me guess! She was a cheerleader, pretty little thing, prom queen, the whole nine-yards to your little All-American thing."

Jake lets out a laugh, thinking of Honey as he shakes his head.

"You couldn't be more wrong. Except the pretty part, she-she's gorgeous."

"Really?" Javy sits up and leans over the metal railing of the bunk. "What? Is she like some metal chick with the eyeliner?"

Javy motions around his eye to emphasize his point.

Jake's eyes widened, continuing to shake his head.

"Definitely not."

"Then what's she like? C'mon man, you gotta give me something! You're always callin' her and writin' her, and I never see you get a response. She got you under Love Potion Number Nine or something? She do the whole magic thing? Can't trust that man."

"No, no, she's not like that. She's-," Jake pauses, trying to find the most accurate words to describe Honey. "She's quiet, shy, she's practically the opposite of me. She likes to read, a lot. I don't think there's ever been a time in our lives when she didn't have a book in her hand. She's kind, never lacking patience when it comes to all of my bullshit. And smart, ridiculously so, she's the smartest person I know. Honey is...witty, and funny, she's got this sarcastic sense of humor that you'd never expect from her. W-We've been friends since we were kids. We started datin' in high school, and we had this fight before I came here, and, obviously, she's still mad about it, so...yeah."

Javy notes the glimmer in Jake's eyes as he talks about his girlfriend, a small smile forming across his lips. Javy hadn't known Jake for more than six months, but this was probably the happiest he'd seen his bunkmate. Javy shrugs, giving his friend another incredulous look.

"So what are you gonna do about it, Seresin?"

Jake's jade eyes look up at him, his letter finished but suddenly forgotten.

"What do you mean? She obviously doesn't want to speak to me. The only time she's spoken to me in six months is when she left me a drunk voicemail on Halloween, saying how I made her cry. What am I supposed to do with that? If she saw me, she'd probably knock my lights out."

Javy shrugs. "But do you love her?"

Jake looks down at his well-kept shoes.

"More than she'll ever know."

"You said she's studying in Starkville? You think she's going back to Texas for Christmas?"

"It's unlikely," Jake responds, his voice somber at the admission. "Why?"

"Well," Javy props back onto his pillow, his hands tucked under his head. "I'm driving back home for Christmas, passin' right through Mississippi. It sounds like if you messed this up, you need to be the one to fix it. Show her you haven't given up, and you want her back. If you surprise her, maybe she'll give you a chance to explain yourself."

Jake's heart hammers in his chest, his friend's plan wasn't entirely bad. Jake looks up at his bunkmate, his face set in a knowing look.

"Honey hates surprises."

"And you hate living without her, which one will be worse: her temporary anger, or never speakin' to her again?"

Jake sighs, he hates that Javy was right. Maybe it was a stupid idea, cancelling his flight back home from Austin, tagging along on a road trip with Javy to get the love of his life back. But, a week later, Jake's duffel was slung into the backseat of Javy's car haphazardly as he rode shotgun, giving his friend directions toward a small Mississippi town.

Now, Honey makes her way across the rainy parking lot. Through her blurry eyesight, she quickly finds Jake's truck in the nearly empty parking lot. She fishes the key from the bundle of keys in her hand, sliding it into the key slot on the door and unlocking the door. Before she could remove the key and pop open the door, Honey hears a voice call out her name. She pauses, and for a split second, she thinks she hears Jake's voice. She shakes her head, pulling at the driver's side door. It was often shut too hard, and she had to pull with a good portion of her strength to get it to open. As she tugs on the handle, she hears it again, her name in Jake's voice. She tugs harder, thinking she was finally losing her mind.

"Honey, wait!"

The footsteps behind her alert her that the voice she had been hearing likely wasn't just a hallucination. She turns abruptly, and her heart stops in her chest. There, standing before her in a rain-soaked Navy sweatshirt and jeans, his significantly shorter blonde locks plastered against his forehead, was one Jake Seresin. Honey's eyes widened in shock, the breath in her chest growing short and ragged. She pulls her books closer to her chest, an action of both shock and keeping them as dry as possible. Her eyes dart back and forth between his own. She's quiet for a moment, rendered completely speechless.

"Jake?!" Her eyebrows furrowed. "What the hell are you doing here?! You-You're supposed to be on a plane to Austin right now!"

Jake stands in front of her, motionless, as his eyes take her in completely. It had been so long since he'd seen her, and he simply wanted to peer at her forever. She hadn't changed much, she was still shorter than him in stature, still an avid reader by the small pile of books she'd finally tossed onto the truck seat, but her eyes didn't quite shine like they once had. Jake's heart hammered in his chest, staring at the girl he loved standing in front of him in the pouring rain, arms crossed over her chest, shivering in the cold.

"Jake, hey?!" She waves her hand in front of his face, attempting to gain his attention. "What are you doing here?!"

Honey's voice is loud enough to hear over the rain pelting around them both. Her eyes are wide as he looks down at her, his hands itch to touch her, but he keeps them at his side. He takes another look into her eyes, and he simply loses every ounce of control he has. He takes a step forward towards her, his hands come to rest on either side of her face. Honey wants to knock his hands away, she wants to let her anger simmer forever, but the warmth of his calloused touch provides her with a comfort she hadn't felt in so long. If it had not been raining so fiercely, both halves of the pair would realize the tears running down one another's face. He's silent for a long moment, simply taking in her face for the first time in months.

"Honey, I-I fucked up," Jake starts, his voice trembling with a flurry of emotions. "Honey, I fucked up so, so bad."

He pauses, allowing the rain to soak through both their clothes, his thumb brushing carefully against her cheek. His bottom lip trembles, his hands beginning to shake against her face. Honey says nothing, only braving a look into his green eyes darkening with tears.

"I-I've apologized a thousand times over the past six months and it's not enough. It'll never be enough, because knowin' I hurt you?" He pauses and shakes his head with his lips pressed into a fine line, effectively keeping him from bursting into sobs. "Honey, that shit has ripped me to shreds everyday since you left. I-I never meant to hurt you, ever. I'll spend the rest of my life apologizin' to you if that's what you want." His eyes bore into her own, his breaths shaky.

"I'll spend the rest of my life on hands and knees, grovelin' if that's what you want. A-And if you tell me to fuck off and never speak to you again, I-I'll do it. Just-just know that all of me-body, heart, soul, everything I am-it belongs to you. If you've decided that you're movin' on, and you want to do everythin' we planned with someone else, I won't try to stop it. But, you have to know somethin', and I need you to understand that it doesn't matter if you move to Canada, o-or you stay here, or you move back to Haven, my heart forever sits in your hands. It's yours, forever, whether I have yours or not. That house on my grandparent's farm? I fixed it for you, it's yours. This truck? It's yours, take it. Honey, you can have whatever you want, I'll buy you whatever you want, I'll make it if I can't buy it. Tell me what you want, and I'll make it happen. Whatever it is, baby, it's yours."

His chest moves quickly with his rapid breaths, his hands shaking from his contained emotions. Honey simply looks at him, still a bit shocked that he's standing in front of her. If she wasn't overwhelmed by the landslide of apologies he'd just spouted, she'd have given him her own back. Instead, she stands a bit still, her chest just as heavy as his. He mistakes her silence as rejection, and his face falls as he gives a subtle nod of his head. His hands move from her face, and, in that split second, Honey is shocked into action. She wouldn't lose him again, she couldn't lose him again. In one quick swoop, she grabs the wrists of his sweatshirt, pulling his attention back to her. She speaks a tad louder than her normal tone, ensuring he would hear her over the pelting rain.

"You, all I want is you. That-That's all I've ever wanted, Jake!"

He catches a glimpse of her face, her cheeks pink as she shivers, but her eyes, they were the same love-filled gaze he'd remembered. He wanted to begin another string of apologies, to assure her that he meant everything he said, but he never got the chance. In an action almost completely out of nature for the shy girl he knew, her arms were around his neck, pulling his lips towards hers in a heated passion. He wasted no time in indulging in the action, his hands coming to her hips, lifting her a bit higher to deepen the kiss. The sweet kiss quickly turns to a clash of teeth and heated movements, and Jake quickly hoists her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as if it were muscle memory.

From his car across the lot, Javy shakes his head and smiles as the two embrace one another. He cranks his car back up, backs out of the parking spot and turns back onto the main road. He shakes his head as he thinks of his friend, mumbling to himself as he drives:

"Tis the damn season, Seresin, you lucky dog."

Back at the school, it only takes a split second for the couple's kiss to grow a bit too intense for the parking lot setting, and, without thinking, Jake pulls her through the lobby's double doors and into the elevator, where the two finally break apart for a split second.

"J-Jake, I-I never should've left like that, I-,"

She doesn't get to finish, Jake's lips are back on hers, this time with more fervor than before. Honey shudders, with both the cold from her wet clothes and the heat building in her torso. They break apart as the elevator dings, and Honey is pulling Jake by the hand back to her dorm. She all but shoves him inside, locking the door behind her. Jake wastes no time in crossing back to her, slowly pulling off the hood of her hoodie, his eyes widening when he glances at her mostly dry hair.

"Y-Your hair, it's...shorter."

She chuckles. "Yeah, I just needed a change...you're one to talk, J, I've never seen your hair that short."

He pulls her in closer by her hips, lifting the soaked hoodie over her head as he speaks.

"Yeah, well, plebe summer wasn't my best look, you're just lucky you missed me bald, baby."

Even in the dim light of the dorm room, Jake notes the darkening look of her gaze, her lids growing heavier with desire. Honey's hand comes to the short hair growing on the nape of his neck, her head cocking to the side as she threads her fingers through the new growth, a look on her face he can't quite place. He pulls her flush against him, attempting to read her look.

"Hm, yeah," she starts. "I'm real glad I missed that part. Y'know, why?"

The girl below him moves to kiss the underside of his jaw, making his hands tighten on the grip he has on her hips.

"Why's that, baby?"

Honey's lips move to his neck, his hands slipping past her hips and to the round of her bottom. Above all else, Jake Seresin had been raised to be a Southern gentleman, but his resolve was slipping.

"Because," Honey starts, her accent slipping through, causing the heat in Jake's lower half to grow unbearable as her lips continue their course down his skin. "I like havin' somethin' to hold onto when you're between my thighs."

Long gone was Honey's shy demeanor, and long gone was Jake's gentlemanly resolution. Without a word, he's tossing his own damp sweatshirt over his head and throwing it to the floor with her own. Honey has ditched her drenched shirt and sweatpants, now standing nearly bare between Jake's arms. Without a second of hesitation, Jake pulls her onto the ridiculously small bed, but he pays it no mind, more focused on the grinning girl beneath him. He kisses her lips passionately, his hands resting on her bare thighs. His own heart hammers, and, as he kisses down Honey's neck, he can feel her own beating just as loudly. He pulls away, tossing off his damp jeans to the floor. He looks down at her almost bare frame, his emerald eys heavy with lust, but his voice is cased in affection.

"If this is what you want, that's certainly fine with me, but I need to hear you say it, baby."

Honey looks up at Jake's kind but intense gaze, her heart slowing a bit.

"After that whole The Notebook-esque apology you pulled, yes, I want this."

She nods in confirmation, and Jake wastes no time in attaching his lips back to hers. Honey's hands fly back to his hair, her fingers digging into his locks. Jake's hands come to her torso, carefully sliding off the clothing constricting her chest and tossing it onto the floor. He pauses for a brief moment, staring down as he hovers over her. Honey looks up at him, her head cocking to the side.

"Jake? Hey, what's the matter?"

Jake's mind is in overdrive, and he simply feels the urge to stop and stare at her. She's bare before him, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing with affection. Jake swallows thickly as he pushes hair out of her face.

"Honey, you-you're beautiful. I am the luckiest man on fuckin' Earth, baby."

Honey blushes at his compliment, pulling him back in with a heated kiss.

"You're such a smooth talker, Seresin...but right now, I need you to use that mouth of yours for somethin' other than talkin'."

Jake grins from ear to ear, the usual smirk she's used to seeing painted across his face. His thumb brushes against the fabric adorning her hip, gently pushing it down. He tosses them to the floor along with the other clothes they'd shed, and nudges his way in between her legs. Heat fills the space between them completely as he speaks:

"Yes ma'am."

Hours later, in the late hours of the night, Honey is woken by the vibrating of something nearby. Jake-who has her pressed into his chest with the strength of a bear-doesn't budge. Honey, ever the light sleeper, groans, lightly tapping Jake's shoulders. His body moves, but he simply curls back into their shared pillow. She shoves him again, a little harder this time as she speaks.

"Jake," Her words receive no response, so she speaks again. "Jake!"

It's Jake's turn to groan, his arms pulling her closer to his bare chest.

"Hm? What is it, baby?"

Honey's lack-of-sleep induced annoyance fades at the nickname she so adores.

"Your phone is ringing."

Jake groans again, slipping out from under the blush pink sheets and searching for his phone that he assumed was still lodged into his jean pocket. Honey opts to glance at his newly toned arms and strong, broad shoulders, his time training in Maryland obviously having physical gain. He hits the button on the screen, not bothering to look at the caller ID, and speaks:

"Hello?"

"Jacob Thomas! Where the hell are you?!" His grandfather's voice fills his ears, and Jake pales. Shit. He had completely forgotten to tell his grandparents about his detour. "I've been sitting at the airport for three hours, son!"

"Pawpaw, I-I'm sorry, Javy just decided to take me all the way back to-" He's cut off abruptly.

"Look, that's fine, but you could've called. Your grandmother's callin' and she's pissed, son. Just get home, alright? Preferably sometime before Christmas Eve? She's already distraught about Honey not comin' around, so, the sooner the better. Heard?"

"Loud and clear."

"Alright, well, I love you, kid. Be careful."

"Love you too."

Jake hangs up the phone, crawling back into Honey's sheets and pulling her back into his arms. Honey's nose burrows into the crook of his neck, Jake's warm skin against her own far warmer than any blanket she owned. Jake's hand ghosted against her side, the other threading through her hair. His voice is low and soft as he speaks:

"How do you feel about Christmas in Texas?"

Honey's eyes open, looking up at her boyfriend with a shy smile, completely retreating back into her usual quiet self, a stark difference from the heated confidence that had run through her only hours before. Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight, a wide grin on her face as she buries herself back into his neck, his toned arms pulling her in tightly.

"I don't know if they'd even want me there, I should've called Mrs. Janet back, haven't responded in like two weeks."

Jake scoffs, pushing back a hair from her face.

"Don't even think like that. They're gonna be more excited to see you than me."

"Guess we'll find out." Honey pushes up from her spot next to Jake, sliding out of bed and slipping on new clothes before packing a small bag for the road. Jake watches from the bed, a smile across his face. He rests his hands behind his head, his blonde locks tossed about from their rendezvous. Honey turns to him once she's dressed.

"Are you gonna show up like that? Not that I mind this look, but your grandmother might have some issues with it." She laughs lightly, tossing him his now dry shirt. "You might want to get dressed, babe."

Honey stills and grows red when the nickname falls from her lips without any thought. She turns to Jake, his eyebrow furrowed humorously at the nickname, his right pointer finger beckons her closer. She stands next to him beside the bed, his hand pulling her in by the waist.

"Where did that come from?"

"I-I don't know," she admits bashfully. "B-But if you don't like it-"

"Baby, I more than liked it."

He pulls her closer, plopping her back into the sheets with him. She practically rests completely atop him. His hands move to pull up her shirt, his hands resting on her now bare waist. She makes note of his gaze darkening as he looks down at her, his arousal evident against her leg.

"Jake," her voice is a whisper. "We should really get on the road."

Jake smirks, his lips now kissing the sweet spot behind her ear.

"I'll get up as soon as you do."

Unable to resist one another, they were nearly another two hours before they got back on the road. After those hours and a ridiculously long drive back home to Haven, Honey now rested comfortably in the passenger side of Jake's her truck, Jake's thumb rubbing against her thigh. Both of them were incredibly tired from the prolonged trip, and more than ready to collapse into his childhood bed they'd shared for years. As Jake turned onto Seresin Farm Road, Honey felt her nerves kick in. Despite her excitement to return to the home that had nurtured her, she worried that she was going to be a burden for Janet and Jacob. She hadn't told either of them that she'd be coming home, and Jake hadn't either. She slid closer in the seat to Jake, her head resting on his arm. He looks down at her as they pass one of the many fields on the property.

"You alright, baby? You're lookin' a little out of it."

"M'fine, just nervous."

Jake's eyes cut down at her. "Nervous?"

"It's stupid, I know. I just, didn't tell anyone I was coming, and I don't want to be a burden to your grandparents."

"Honey, you're family. You don't have to let us know you're comin'."

Honey smiles, her nerves fading as the house comes into view. Jake parks the truck, the backwards baseball cap over his head covering his short, blonde locks completely. He cuts her a sly grin, a look of mischief drawn across his face.

"Want to really surprise them?"

Honey cocks her head, puzzled. Jake simply kisses her cheek and hops out of the truck, moving to open the door on her side. He comes to the front door, opening it and promptly hiding Honey behind his taller frame. He comes to the entrance of the kitchen, raising his finger to his lips as he leaves her only a few feet away in the foyer. She can hear his boots against the hardwood as he walks.

"Hey," he speaks simply, both Janet and Jacob Sr.'s eyes cutting to their grandson standing in their doorway.

"Jacob! You scared the devil outta me! Get over here!" Janet shuffles the towering young man into a hug after lightly chastising him.

"Sorry I'm late," Jake's voice is muffled against his grandmother's neck. "Had to make a detour and pick up a little surprise for you."

His grandmother pulls away, her eyebrows furrowed as she gives the blonde a questioning look. "Surprise?"

Jake sends her a blinding smile. He pokes his head around the corner, beckoning Honey forward with his pointer finger. Honey shakes her head as she approaches, and Jake slings his arm around her shoulder.

"Hi," Honey speaks quietly. Janet and Jacob Sr. both turn, smiles painting across their faces.

"Honey! Oh my, sweet girl, you did surprise us!" Janet's voice is bubbly as she shuffles over to her grandson's girlfriend, pulling her into a tight hug. "Oh! And look at that hair, it's just darlin' on you!"

Honey feels her heart hammer, and she has to swallow down her tears as the older woman embraces her. Jake's grandfather follows suit, and Honey can no longer stop the tears rolling down her face. Janet wipes them away with the back of her hand.

"You alright there, Hon?" Jacob Sr. fills her ears. Honey nods through her tears, crossing the kitchen back to Jake's arms. He pulls her close, kissing the crown of her head as her tears stain his shirt. Janet's eyes gleam as she sees the two being affectionate again. She had been so worried about them both being apart for so long.

"I'm fine, promise." Honey's voice wobbles slightly. "I'm just really, really happy to be home. I didn't want to be a burden, but, I-I've really missed you guys."

"Oh nonsense! I promise we're happy to have you home, sweetheart." Janet's own face wobbles with emotion. "Now, c'mon, I'm glad I waited to make desserts, now I've got double the help."

She shuffles her bowls of ingredients around on the counter and Honey pulls away from Jake, more than happy to lend a hand with making sweets. Jake slips out of the kitchen to allow them to share their moment, and finds himself lounging next to his grandfather in the living room.

The graying man peers up at him over his glasses, giving him a satisfied look.

"Smart move there, son."

Jake directs his eyes from the black and white film on the TV to his grandfather.

"What do you mean?"

"Bringin' Honey home, makin' things right with her. Me and your Granny learned real quick this place doesn't feel the same when you two aren't around."

Jake smiles, shocked by the amount of emotion behind his usually stoic grandfather's words. The older man only gives him a hint of a smile before focusing on his western movie again. Jake listens as he hears Honey's laughter from the kitchen, and for the first time in six months, he feels content. Exhausted from hours of driving and he and Honey's activities in her dorm, he falls asleep on the couch.

Later, after Honey and Janet have finished their baking for the night, Honey spots Jake sprawled across the sofa, his boots and hat abandoned at the end. She covers him up with the blanket that rests behind him, placing a kiss on his forehead. She hadn't intended to wake him, but his eyes popped open. He's not fully awake, still a little bleary eyed as his hands fumble for her torso.

"C'mon, J, you're tired. Let's go to bed."

"Hm, lead the way, baby."

That night, Jake sleeps with Honey under his chin, tucked comfortably into his hold as tightly as possible. He dreams of Honey vividly-although mundane and simple, his dreams are a comfort: them sitting placidly with one another as she reads and he looks on as her voice fills his ears. For the first time in nearly six months, both of them slept peacefully and deeply, in a way they never could without sleeping next to one another. Tomorrow, when the Texas sun blares through Jake's thin curtains, they'll both be thrown headfirst into holiday preparations. But tonight, under the same roof where their story had ended, it begins again: Honey, in Jake's arms, sleeping content and comfortable in the bedroom up the stairs.

taglist:

@djs8891

@unattainablesillygoose

@psuedochakra

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

@mrsevans90

@86laura11

@cmiguelbilinski

*if you asked me/want to be on the taglist and you weren't tagged, pls message me, i would love to add you!!

#jake hangman seresin #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #top gun hangman #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman fic #hangman & honey

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fairytales-and-folklore · 3 months ago

Text

Champagne Problems

Teen Wolf » Sterek

Title: Champagne Problems

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Teen Wolf (Masterlist)

Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: Stiles has got champagne problems. No, really. He's had way too many mimosas. A game of tipsy truth or dare at a New Year's Eve pack party ends with Stiles accidentally blurting out that he's in love with Derek…right in front of the sourwolf himself.

"Alright, fine," Erica simpers. "I dare you to tell us who you've got a crush on." "Because we all know there's someone," Lydia insists, giving him a pointed look. "Someone you've clearly been pining after for years now," Danny agrees. "So just come clean, Stilinski. Tell us who it is." Stiles, who is absolutely smashed off his ass at this point in the game, rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars. "Nice try, assholes," he teases with a sing-song lilt and a self-satisfied smile. "But there's no way in hell I'm ever gonna tell you I'm in love with Derek, so you can just—" Somewhere in the distance, a champagne flute shatters, and suddenly, Derek is just there, looming in the distance, eyebrows arched so high they practically straddle his hairline.

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Stiles has got champagne problems.

No, really. He's had way too many mimosas.

He'd like to blame Lydia for supplying the Dom Pérignon for tonight's festivities, but really, it's his own fault for thinking he had the stamina to keep up with the brunch quartet. Allison, at least, has the decency to look sympathetic, but Lydia, Isaac, and Danny haven't stopped laughing for a good ten minutes now, ebbing to a series of breath-catching sighs, only to start right back up again with a hastily stifled snort the second Stiles stumbles over his words, doubled over and clutching each other in an attempt to remain upright.

Which, under any normal circumstances, would be totally fine. It's just that drunk Stiles tends to be a bit of a talker. Okay, fine. More of a talker than usual. Like, the kind that has absolutely no reservations about spilling his deepest, darkest secrets to anyone who will listen; no filter, no shame. And Stiles? Yeah, he's determined to take this secret to the grave.

And if, by some stroke of bad luck, he does manage to run his mouth tonight, well…he's had a good run. Twenty-two is a ripe old age to curl up and die from embarrassment, right? At least he can pride himself on the fact that he's made it six whole years without the pack of human lie detectors he calls his friends and family sniffing him out.

Or so he thinks.

What he doesn't know is that nearly everyone in the pack, including Scott's mom and Stiles's dad, has known for years now that Stiles and Derek have got it bad for each other, and that they're both too stubborn and stupid to do anything about it. Being the meddlesome lovable assholes that they are, they've finally decided that enough is enough, and that it's time to take matters into their own hands.

Which is how Stiles ends up in a crowded corner of the living room, swept up in a game of tipsy Truth Or Dare.

It starts off innocently enough, spilling truths about kindergarten crushes and drunken college escapades, daring each other to take shots of awful combos like watermelon Smirnoff and Bailey's Irish cream. But then it starts to get weirdly specific, and Stiles can't help but feel like maybe the universe is conspiring against him, because—

"Stiles, truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Who are you going to kiss at midnight?" Allison asks, giggling when Scott leans in to press a kiss against her dimpled cheek.

"Uhhh, no one," Stiles frowns. "You know, since I'm pretty much the only one here not coupled up in disgustingly adorable romantic bliss."

He gestures between the two of them and mimes vomiting rainbows.

"Everyone except for Derek," Danny helpfully supplies.

Stiles swallows nervously.

"Right, yeah. I, uh…forgot."

Like hell he did.

"Stiles…truth or dare?"

The smile Lydia gives him is downright predatory.

"Uhh…dare, I guess."

Stiles watches Lydia exchange conspiratorial glances with Allison and Danny, and narrows his eyes in suspicion.

"I dare you to kiss the last person you texted at midnight."

Which — of fucking course — just so happens to be Derek, of all people.

Which Lydia knows damn well, having stolen his phone for a group photo just moments before.

Stiles is beginning to sense a theme here…

"Yeah, okay," Stiles chokes out around a nervous chuckle, rolling his eyes. "I think I'll pass. I don't feel like going into the New Year with my throat ripped out, thanks."

He can't be certain, but he thinks he hears Lydia mumble something to the effect of god, you're both such oblivious idiots under her breath. And…yeah, Erica definitely just rolled her eyes. What the hell?

"Fine, I'll choose another one. I dare you to…" she taps one perfectly manicured finger against her chin thoughtfully. "…send a sexy selfie to the last person you texted."

Stiles gives her a pleading look, but Lydia just stares back at him expectantly, one threatening eyebrow arched.

With a resigned sigh, Stiles pulls out his phone, tilts the camera like it's 2003 and he's angling for the perfect myspace profile pic, and gives the camera a cheeky half-smile. He opens his text thread with Derek, smirking to himself as he reads over the last thing they'd written to one another just hours before — a heated debate over who made a better villain, Voldemort or Umbridge — and texts the photo to Derek with a hasty apology.

sorry, we're playing truth or dare, Lydia made me

Heart kicking up speed, he watches Derek glance down at his phone, chest puffing out as he takes in a sudden, sharp breath, before a smile that makes Stiles melt into a puddle spreads across his face.

Ugh. Curse Derek Hale for having a smile like actual fucking sunshine.

A few seconds later, Stiles's phone buzzes.

I don't mind. It's a good photo of you.

The blush that burns across his face could start a bonfire.

He doesn't realize it's his turn again until Erica is threatening to steal his phone and use it to send Derek one of the many unsolicited dick pics she's received over the years, complete with a winking emoji and a cheesy pick-up line. Stiles blanches, gaze snapping up from his phone screen to catch the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Whoah, calm down there, Satan," Stiles teases, slipping his phone back into his pocket, hands held up in surrender.

Erica smiles sweetly at him. He's never felt more terrified.

"Now that I have your attention…truth or dare, Stilinski."

"Truth," he says, which, judging by the positively wolfish grin that spreads across her face, is a mistake.

She asks him if he's ever wanted to kiss anyone in the pack, which devolves into a game of Never Have I Ever, which somehow ends up turning into a round of Fuck, Marry, Kill during which Stiles accidentally chooses to both fuck and marry Derek.

(In his defense, his only other options were Gerard Argent and a Berserker, so…)

"Shit," he says, a fresh wave of heat swimming through his veins from the victory shot he'd just done for winning Never Have I Ever. He's pretty sure whoever manages to put the most fingers down first is supposed to be the one who drinks, but…well, who's counting?

"I just chose Derek twice, didn't I?" he asks sheepishly.

"Yes you did, sweetie," Erica giggles, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Yes you did."

Stiles chances a glance over at Derek, who's standing at the kitchen island with a champagne flute in his hand, deep in conversation with Boyd, Isaac, and Jackson, and breathes a sigh of relief.

"Alright, buddy, I've got one for you," Scott chimes in, slinging an arm around his shoulders and swaying a little on the spot. Looks like someone went a little hard on the wolfsbane-laced whiskey. "But you've gotta pick truth."

"O…kay," Stiles agrees reluctantly.

"Do you have a crush on anyone?" Scott poses with a knowing smile. And like, okay…Stiles is vaguely aware that Scott has probably suspected for quite some time now, but he didn't think his best friend would ever call him out on it.

Stiles brushes it off with a laugh and scoffs, "What are you, five? Who even says 'crush' anymore?"

"Uh…you do," Scott frowns. "Remember? Just last week, when you said you had a crush on that guy who plays Superman in that new show on The CW—"

"Yes, okay, fine," Stiles concedes, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Whatever, I'm switching to dare."

Scott gives him his patented puppy-dog pout.

"Alright, fine," Erica simpers. "I dare you to tell us who you've got a crush on."

"Because we all know there's someone," Lydia insists, giving him a pointed look.

"Someone you've clearly been pining after for years now," Danny agrees, somehow managing to look both fond and exasperated all at once. "So just come clean, Stilinski. Tell us who it is."

Stiles, who is absolutely smashed off his ass at this point in the game, rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars.

"Nice try, assholes," he teases with a sing-song lilt and a self-satisfied smile. "But there's no way in hell I'm ever gonna tell you I'm in love with Derek, so you can just—"

Somewhere in the distance, a champagne flute shatters, and suddenly, Derek is just there, looming in the distance, eyebrows arched so high they practically straddle his hairline.

It takes a few seconds for his brain to catch up to his mouth, and then the realization of what he'd just said dawns on him. Stiles claps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide in comical horror as he sinks to the floor and covers his face in the palms of his hands. He suddenly feels a lot less warm and fuzzy, and about ten shades more sober.

Moments later, he feels a pair of strong arms lift him into a standing position. Hesitantly, he moves his hands away from his face and finds Derek standing right in front of him, wide eyes warm and bright, a tentative smile curling across his face.

He's so pretty when he smiles, Stiles thinks stupidly. He hopes Derek will let him down gently.

"So uhh…how much of that did you hear?" Stiles asks, sheepish smile coming across as more of a grimace.

"All of it," Derek replies with a hint of amused fondness in his voice.

Stiles is vaguely aware of how quiet the room has gone, music and chatter fading to a gentle hum as his entire world zeroes in on the man standing in front of him.

The rest of the pack looks on like they're watching a soap opera. He's not sure how, but he thinks he even sees Isaac produce a lawn chair and a bowl of popcorn, nudging it toward Scott and Boyd.

"Oh," Stiles says, sounding small, resigned. He winces, preparing for the inevitable rejection.

"Stiles," Derek says softly, and Stiles swears his name has never sounded so sweet. When he looks back up, Derek is staring at him with a positively radiant smile on his face, forest eyes sparkling in the glow of the fairy lights strung around the living room. He reaches a hand up to gently cup Stiles's face, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against the hollow of Stiles's cheekbones as he leans forward and kisses him.

There's an eruption of cheers and catcalls all around them, Derek's smile a hard line against his lips as a rumble of laughter vibrates through Stiles's chest.

They spend the rest of the evening curled up on the couch, too wrapped up in each other to care that they've missed the New Year countdown.

#teen wolf #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fanfiction #sterek fanfiction #champagne problems #fairytalesandfolklore #fairytales-and-folklore #fairytalesandfolklore fanfiction #fairytalesandfolklore teen wolf #fairytalesandfolklore sterek

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memepocalypse · 1 month ago

Text

Rich, Famous, and Alone.

For muses who might feel more than you think they do. mod note: I am aware that it's nearly impossible to be super rich and not cruel in the real world. But in our fantasy worlds, there are choices.

"I just want to be loved, is that so bad?"

"I want what you have. I want to feel that."

"I have everything in the world and yet... I'm lonely."

"You don't know how it feels to have everyone know you, but... nobody knows you."

"Money, sex, cars, houses, whatever... it doesn't mean anything. Not really."

"I want a connection. Something that's based on who I am, not what I have."

"Is it so bad to want to be... myself? Not just a wallet?"

"Yeah, I have money. Fast cars. So what?"

"Because I'm rich doesn't mean I don't have a heart."

"I didn't want this money. I inherited it."

"I've... been hurting people, haven't I? All this time? I didn't even know."

"We're sheltered from it all. Nobody lets us see the harm we're doing."

"I have to have guards, or I can't even leave the house."

"I want to go to the store in my dirty shirt and not have people taking pictures of me."

"I was just doing what I loved. I didn't realise it would cost me my private life."

"People feel like they're entitled to my time, my energy."

"Would it kill people to leave me alone?"

"I don't want to be 'on' all the time."

"Sometimes I just want to watch a movie with... someone."

"It's funny, when I'm with you, I don't feel like I have to be... famous."

"I'm allowed to be a person! I'm allowed to make mistakes! God!"

"Yeah, I fucked up, but now I can't even apologise without people calling me fake."

"How can I make it better when they're determined to see me as a monster?"

"I regret all of it, sometimes. All the fun I was having."

"I could buy you a nice meal. A house, a car, a yacht. I would, if you asked."

"Sometimes I feel like all I have to offer is what I can buy someone. They can't see me past that."

"I built something, a long time ago. And now I get death threats."

"I want to fix it all. It seems so... overwhelming. All the good I do is overshadowed by the bad I've done."

"I haven't been paying tax? What do you mean I haven't been paying tax??"

"I'm... sorrry. Nobody wants to hear the rich guy talk about how lonely he is."

#roleplay meme #rp meme #starter #rp starter #starters #prompt #rp #prompts #roleplay #meme

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elliebean714 · 4 months ago

Note

Don’t know if you still doing tumblr but just in case. How about

The until dawn character’s find their lover (reader) crying because R told them they had a nightmare that they lost them to the Wendigos

Absolutely, I'd love to!💕 more character reactions plz! I love doing themm💖 haven't played the remake, I know theres a way for josh to survive now, but I don't know the details, so if this is inaccurate to that sorryyyy. love you Joshuaaaa. Also a new sam ending? But i dont know what makes it do special yet so, ya, nothing new in this lol. MORE SAM, ASH, EM, MIKE, AND JESS REQS PLZZZZ I LOVE WRITING THEM BUT I NEED PEOPLE WHO LOVE THEM TO GIVE IDEAS RRAAAAHHHHHH. (Ofc my boys joshhhhh, Chris and matt are always welcome, but I've written a good amount for them, not much for the others) small tw for panic attacks in Sam and Matt's. If i had to have a panic attack in front of any until dawn characters, they would be the only correct answers lmao.

Until Dawn Character Reactions

GN!Reader had nightmares about losing them

Angst With LOTS of Comfort, exactly what you'd expect lol

Josh Washington

It's nearly 3:00 am when you wake up, shaking and crying.

You look to see him in bed next to you, he's taken to staying over much more frequently since that night, your presence is one of the few things capable of getting him comfortable enough to sleep.

Josh wakes up soon after you've curled yourself into him, your arms wrapping loosely around his chest and his shoulder.

"Hey," he rubs your back gently "Hey, I'm here..." sitting up properly, he rubs his sleepy eyes before pulling you into his lap "take your time. Tell me what's wrong when you're ready"

You cry silently for a few minutes all while Josh holds you and kisses your head

Eventually, you speak up in a shaky voice "I had that stupid nightmare again. That one with you..." you trail off, taking a deep breath, his smell comforting you

"Y/N..." Josh's hold tightens subconsciously "I'm sorry." His voice drops to a whisper "I'm so sorry..."

When you feel him start to sob silently, you bring your face up to his, your fingers caress his cheeks

"No, no, no, no, shhh..." you kiss his forehead "I'm not mad at you, babe! Don't think that at all."

"You wouldn't be so hurt if I didn-" Josh starts

You interrupt him with a kiss "Shut up, you didn't know. You made a mistake, yeah, but you had no idea those monsters were up there." You pause, letting him calm down a bit before continuing "i get those nightmares about losing you because I love you. When that thing almost killed you- fuck... I've never been that scared in my life. I'm not going to ever get that image out of my head..."

He kisses your temple and plays with your hair while you speak. Once you finish, he speaks up "I have bad dreams too. Of you being in the lodge when it blew up. Or the monster taking your head off, or..." He sighs, cradling you "so many things, but we're okay. We made it out. It's going to get better eventually. We'll get through it together, baby."

Josh holds you for a few more minutes, until you've calmed down fully. He lays back down, and pulls you on top of him. You wrap your arms around each other, and soon after, you both fall into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

Sam Giddings

It was a normal date night at first

Ice cream and tea, then a nice walk through the park. Everything was perfect.

Your parents let her stay over, as they usually do. They absolutely adore her, and they see how much she brightens you up when she's around. And you seem to not have panic attacks as often anymore

But you still get them

Like tonight. You're watching some old show, cuddling under the covers when you drift off to sleep

It's only for a few minutes, maybe 15 at most, but stuck in the agony of your head, it feels like hours.

She's being chased by josh the psycho, she's trapped in the mine, she's still hiding with the Wendigo screaming at her in the lodge- she's being caught and dragged to god knows here, she's slowly losing her mind and starving, she's being massacred- nonononononononotsam pleasenotsam nonononononono-

"Hey, Y/N..." you feel her gently shaking your shoulder "Wake up, it's just a nightmare, I'm right here" her voice is soothing, assuring, but it does little to prevent the inevitable

Your head feels fuzzy, your heart is pounding, fuck- fuck- you sit up, "No- no, I cant- I can't breathe-" you clutch your shirt just above your heart in an attempt to anchor you to reality "sam- Sam, where are you?"

She puts her hands on your upper arms and hugs you from the side "I'm still here. You're okay, baby. You're going to be okay."

"I cant- sam- help me, please-"

"Okay, let's try counting to 10." She starts counting slowly and clearly, giving you something to focus on, her beautiful voice. After a few counts, you join in, it takes a while, but your breathing does eventually level out.

"Sorry- sorry that's so embarrassing" you let out an uneven breath as Sam shakes her head

"Shush, there's nothing embarrassing about it. Absolutely nothing." She kisses your temple "was it the regular nightmares again?"

"No, no, they were about you this time."

Sam lets you lay your head on her shoulder while she rubs your back "oh, honey..."

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you before she speaks up "I wish I could make them all stop. I wish there was some magical thing I could say and we'd be back to who we were before, but..." She sighs "I'm not going anywhere. I can't fix everything, but I won't leave you, Y/N. Someday all these horrible things will just be distant memories, I swear. I love you"

You kiss her, a small hint of a smile on your face "I love you too" then you both return to watching the show. It was a really good date night.

Chris Hartley

You'd taken to staying up late and studying together since you got into the same college, and by some miracle, the same dorm

Chris is typing away on his laptop while you're trying to memorise a paragraph from a textbook you've read a hundred times.

Fuck this is so boring- you rub your eyes, what time is it?? You yawn and check your phone: almost midnight

As if reading your mind, Chris stretches and yawns "God damn, its late, and I've gotta get this done tonight." He stands up "I'm going to grab some coffee, want some?"

"Be right back." He says after you nod, rubbing your weary eyes

After he's gone, you lie back on the bed, it'd be so good to sleep right now... maybe just for a couple minutes... you'll be up before he's back...

Then you hear a screech

You see a snowy night

You're stuck behind a door- this door

A huge explosion, or something similar starts the scene, Chris sprinting towards the door with a limp and the Wendigo is hot on his heels

Your hand is immediately on the handle, ready to pull it open, but when you try, it's locked... NO! You pull it again, c'mon, c'mon, OPEN-

"Y/N, help!" Chris pounds in the door "please- it's coming, help!" He looks over his shoulder at the monster as you attempt to open it, becoming more and more frantic "pleas-"

Four long, sharp fingers pierce his neck and pull his head off

"NO!" You wake up, shivering and in tears. Sitting up quickly, you see that Chris hasn't returned

Shit... you grab a tissue from the box on the bedside table to wipe your face. It's been a long since you had a nightmare... must be the lack of sleep

Chris comes back into the dorm while you're crying. "Hey, woah, what happened?" He puts the coffees on the desk then hurries over to check on you.

His thumb grazes over your cheek as he tries to get you to look at him "baby, what happened?"

"Nothing, nothing, I just..." you shake your head "I think I fell asleep for a minute." You sigh, taking a deep breath "and I had a nightmare, or something."

"Aw, jeez, I'm sorry" He guides you into a hug "Wanna tell me about it?

While you explain what you saw, he rubs your back and plays with your hair, you sigh, "It really freaked me out."

"Yeah, that uh... really messed me up too." Chris pauses "I didn't realise how much that scared you"

"Neither did i. I've been trying to forget, but..." you trail off, trying to think of a reason

"You're probably sleep deprived, we've been studying super hard since we got here," Chris scoffs "and I can't remember the last good night's sleep either of us had."

"So you think i should sleep through it?" You lift your head to look at him properly

He nods "it probably won't happen again tonight. And if it does, I'll be here to help you."

You shake your head "I need to study, I have a test soon and-" he laughs at you "what??"

"You and I both know you're just staring at the same point of the page for hours, there's no reason for you to stay awake. Just head to bed, ill finish my homework as soon as I can, then join you."

You try to protest, but what's the point? Reading that paragraph for another hour won't make it any clearer. Sleep might.

Chris takes your stuff off the bed and you crawl under the covers, it only takes a few minutes after Chris gives you a good night kiss to fall asleep. It's the best night's sleep you've had in ages. Finally things start making sense in class! Maybe this is why people talk about healthy sleep schedules all the time...

Ashley Brown

She likes to read you to sleep.

It's nice to share her love of reading and stories with you, and it's good practice for speaking aloud in a safe, loving environment

But it's mostly the way you snuggle up to her, hugging her loosely, and burying your face in the crook of her neck, your weight is her favourite security blanket.

Her fingers gently play with your hair as she reads, she's certain you're asleep by now, so she's just reading to herself, when she feels you stir

"N-no, ash- please-" you whimper

"Shh, shh, its alright, honey..." Ashley hums a gentle tune to soothe you, but it doesn't work, you continue to mumble and whimper

It only gets worse

She feels you burry yourself more into her neck, your breathing quicken and a few tears spill

"Aw, babe..." Ashley quickly marks the page and puts the book down, before fully paying attention to you "it's alright... its okay." She fiddles with your stray hairs and kisses your temple

A few moments pass "Ashley... no- no- not Ashley-" you sob helplessly in her arms while she continues to try to shush and calm you, becoming more desperate, until you finally wake up in a state of shock

You sit up, trying to give her space "sorry, I didn't..." you trail off

"Shh, c'mere, I miss you" Ashley pulls you back down on top of her "was it that nightmare? You seemed really distressed."

Your eyes flutter closed for a moment when her hands return to your hair. "Mhm... that one- in the tunnel. If I didn't go back for you..."

"Yeah, you totally saved my life." She comments, lifting your face a little so uou can see the deep appreciation in her eyes

"But- if I didnt- if I was late- Ashley..." tears prick at the corner of your eyes again "I don't know if I could live without you. I need you."

She kisses your nose "You're adorable. And I don't know what I did to deserve you, and I can't believe how lucky we both got! I mean how many times did we think we were going to die, but didn't?"

"Ash- I just saw it happen- I keep seeing it in different ways, the saw, the gun, the tunnel, the lodge- it feels like every time I close my eyes I'm watching you suffer, I can still hear you screaming sometimes when I'm alone- I just want it to stop- I want to be normal."

"I'm sorry, beautiful. I'm so sorry." She rubs your back "I think this is our normal. Being terrified of the dark, and being alone, and rounding corners, and silence. Being haunted by the things we saw, and what we didn't see. Feeling guilty, and angry, and depressed and anxious, and different. That's normal now. It's impossible to live with alone, but we're together. We have each other as constant reminders what we have, and what we lost. I don't know if it'll ever get better, but there's nobody I'd rather support and be supported by than you."

Ashley takes a deep breath, clearly unused to speaking that long. You smile "seems like the reading aloud has helped a bit"

She blushes, kisses you on the cheek and picks up the book again "Shush, dork." It takes you a minute to get comfortable, they might not ever go away, but waking up in her arms, on her couch all snuggled up is the coziest thing you can imagine. Your life is more livable, because she is in it.

Matt Taylor

The movie theatre was packed

It was the release night of some big action movie everyone had supposedly been waiting years for

He was significantly more excited for the movie, you just loved spending time with him

You and Matt sat along the isle, next to the stairs. It was dark, and cold, so you snuggled up into his side

A little over an hour into the movie, you doze off. You know you shouldn't, but it's so warm and comfy, and his heartbeat was such a soothing pulse, how could you resist?

It was a light sleep, you could still hear parts of the movie, like the screaming, the crashing, explosions... Matt-

Nononono-Getoffhim! Lethimgo- please-matt-nononononono-

The thing is dragging him along the mine shaft while he desperately looks for something- the flare gun Emily kept to herself- shit

You try to scream, try to move, but you're completely paralysed. Nonononono- fuck- stop- matt- nononononono- yourehurtinghim- please

A final scream leaves him, then you hear him start to choke on his own blood- MATTNONONONONONOSOMEBODYHELPHIM- you feel tears start to stream down your face

A huge explosion in the movie wakes you- itssodark- itssoloud- itssocrowded- shit- gottagetout-

You jump from your seat, sprint down the stairs and out the theatre.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-

People are staring- fuck-

There's nowhere to sit, nowhere to hide- fuck- you collapse against the wall

Stopstopstopstop- your heart beats way too fast, so fast you begin to think you're having a heart attack. You curl your legs into your chest and hide your face

Please stop staring...

You hyperventilate, you tap on the floor, you shake, shit- am I dying?

"Y/N! Oh my god, you scared me, honey." Matts voice cuts through the static

He places a hand on your shoulder and pulls it away immediately when you jump at the sudden touch "can you please get them some water?" You hear him ask some passer-by. Please stop staring.

You continue to shake "Matt- matt I think I'm dying- help me-" you lift your head, god- the world feels like its spinning- to look at him the best you can "I'm scared"

"I know, it's gonna be okay- thank you," he hands you the cold bottle of water the person just brought over "can you drink? Or are you breathing too hard? You could use it to cool yourself down...?"

Matt is so scared right now, this is the first time this has ever happened, at least in front of him. He has absolutely no idea what to do, or how to calm you down. "Could you- uh- do you- shit- I'm making this worse aren't I?"

You nod a little, making him laugh "s-sorry, c-can you breathe? Like," he imitates deep and relaxed breathing "can you try to do that?" You try to, you really try, but it's so hard to focus on your breath when it feels like your heart is going to collapse in on itself

"Hey, it's alright, can I touch you?" He waits until you give him permission to sit beside you and start rubbing your back "tell me what you need, what can I do?"

"Umm- umm-" your foot jitters against the floor "just- is anybody staring at me?"

Matt looks around for a few seconds "N-no, no, I don't think so. Hey, there's a seat over there, can you move?"

He helps you stand and shakily walk to the seat, your legs are so fragile they can barely hold your weight. "M'sorry- shit, I'm so sorry-"

Matt seems surprised by your sudden apology "Woah, babe, no! No, it's completely fine, just try to drink some water an-"

You shake your head "No, Matt, the movie, I ruined your night, I'm so sorry" you tear up, the guilt eating at you

"What the? Y/N, you didn't do anything wrong. You just- I don't know, but it's not your fault. Okay? And even if it was, it's a dumb movie, I'll live. I can see it again. You matter more." He rubs your back again

You take a slow sip of water "I- I fell asleep for a little bit. I... fuck- I saw that fucking thing..."

"What? What do you mean, what did you see, babe?" His hand finds your cheek, and his thumb brushes away some tears

"The- whatever that fucking thing on the mountain was." You answer, someone must've told you what it was at some point, but you can't remember in your state "I've been trying to forget- I don't know why I started freaking out, it just-" you take a deep breath "just came out of nowhere"

"I'm sorry I'm so bad at taking care of you," he laughs, trying to lightens the mood a little "I'll, uh, definitely look up how to calm you down in case that happens again"

"Thanks, babe" you scoff, leaning down to lay your head on his shoulder

After a couple minutes, he asks "Wanna go back home or get some ice cream?"

Emily Davis

No-one would say Emily was a particularly loving or affectionate person, but if you were a good partner she'd be sure to treat you very well. Spoil you even.

She wanted to reward you for being such a good S/O, so she's treating you a nice romantic getaway

A whole weekend! Staying in a fancy hotel, getting spa treatments, going shopping, expensive restaurants!!

Its perfect, so perfect it almost makes you forget the other weekend getaway..

Until you're both sound asleep... and that screech, that screech thats haunted you for months, starts another nightmare, the mine. Its always the fucking mine

You're both sprinting as fast as you can-

Stmbling over yourselves-

It's dark, confusing, shit- shit- how do you get out?!

Emily screams next to you, you turn to see the Wendigo has a hold on her- NO!

It sticks its giant sharp fingers into her eyes and-

You're suddenly back in your hotel room- okay- okay- okay- you take deep breaths to steady yourself...

The sound of her gentle breaths anchor you

It's okay, you're fine, she's fine, you're safe.

You left the bed to grab some water, but almost like she could feel your absence, Emily stirs from her sleep "Ugh, why are you up?" She yawns, rubbing her eyes

"I just had a bad dream, I'm fine" you sip the water and admire how adorable she is. "You're gorgeous"

"Mmh, I know." She hums, pleased "what kind of bad dream, babe?"

You shrug and take another sip of water "the mine one again."

Emily slowly get out of bed to sit beside you at the table "Me or you?"

"You. But it was over quickly. I think I'm starting to get used to them. Is that bad?"

She thinks for a moment, still waking up a little "No? I don't think so. They don't seem to freak you out as much anymore, which is good. Not a fan of you being used to watching me die though."

You scoff and sip more water "that's not what I meant, Cutie."

Emily rolls her eyes "I know, I know" she picks up your hand "I am glad you're getting better though."

"Awe, you're such a softie." You tap her nose, she looks away bashfully

"Whatever. Don't mention it to anyone or I'll kill you."

You giggle at her and kiss her cheek "Oh, I can keep secrets. You know that"

"Good pet." Emily gives you a head pat "now let's go back to bed. It's 2 in the morning"

She leads you over to the bed "do you want to be little spoon or big?

Mike Munroe

You're in the sanatorium with Mike guiding you and the Wendigos chasing right behind

He's shooting aimlessly to give you both more room, until you reach a locked door- shit

They're closing in- one grabs your arm, you scream- "MIKE!!"

In a moment he's pulled you out of its hold, but it takes him instead

"No!" You cry, the Wendigo slashes his neck and chest "Mike-" the life leaves his eyes as he bleeds out

The other Wendigo jumps on you and starts mauling yo-

You wake up in tears, shaking- "Mike..." you whimper, quickly picking up your phone to call him, after a few tries he finally picks up

"Y/N? You alright? It's 4 in the morning" His voice is groggy, husky.

"I had a nightmare- can you come here please?" You beg through tears.

"Come to your room in the middle of the night? Your dad will kill me." He jokes

"I'm serious, Mike. I need you" You implore

Hearing your desperate plea gives him pause "Okay, I'll head over then. Are you gonna be okay?"

"Mhm" you nod "ill open my window for you."

Twenty minutes later, you hear him climbing up to your window "Hi, gorgeous." He flashes his charming smile as soon as he sees you through the open window

"Hi..." you help him climb inside and wrap your arms around him once he's standing upright

"What happened, babe?" His hand goes straight to your back, rubbing in soothing circles.

"Remember when we were in the sanatorium?" You sniffle, still crying gently. "I just- had a nightmare about it. I saw you die- and- and then they went after me- it was so horrible."

"Oh, honey..." He guides you to the bed then starts petting your hair with his free hand "it's alright, I'm here. I won't let them get you" You can hear that smile in his voice

You roll your eyes "yeah, I know. In my dream you died protecting me."

"Sounds about right." He drops his cocky demeanour for a moment "I mean it, though." He gently pulls your face out of his chest so you can meet his gaze "I won't let anything get you. I'll always be here for you. I'll always protect you, Y/N. I love you."

"I love you too, Mike..." He brings you in closer for a kiss.

You guys lie in the bed and snuggle, and eventually fall asleep until-

The jingle of your alarm goes off, 7:30am. You wake up in Mike's arms, warm and cozy, you stay like that for a few more seconds before hearing your dad's footsteps down the hallway makes you fully alert

Shit- "Mike!!" You whisper, shoving him in an attempt to wake him "Mike you gotta get up, you gotta go!"

"Mmh- what? Oh, hi, beautiful..." He didn't properly hear you, he just sees the gorgeous person he's in bed with

"Mike! My dad's up, you gotta go, dummy!"

"Oh- Shit!" He quietly exclaims then jumps out of bed and hurries to the window.

"Wait-" he runs over to kiss you, "see you soon, gorgeous." Before sneaking out of your room

Jess Riley

Sleepoverrrr!!!!!

Omg you guys had the BEST night.

Junk food, old cheesy romcoms, prank calls, painting nails, cute shit like that

Pretty juvenile, but it made Jess happy so you absolutely were not complaining

You'd basically devoted yourself to making her happy after that night.

She was so scared, so traumatised and hurt, that you tried to shut out your own feelings in order to prioritise her, and it was working... until tonight.

Jess fell asleep in your arms around half way through the 4th or 5th movie of the night and you decided to turn it off and join her. It wasn't long until you were fast asleep and it all come flooding back...

You were stuck in the mines again, looking desperately for jess- jeez, you remembered spending hours down there searching for her, encountering the monster several times, almost dying in a million different ways

And it just kept getting worse, you finally found her- oh god- look at her- your heart breaks all over again, she was absolutely brutalised, covered head to toe in slashes, barely able to stand, barely able to talk, oh, baby...

You took her hand and guided her out of the mine, but that screech- that fucking screech- you froze, no- no- MOVE! You can't stay here, you gottamove-

The creature appears, MOVE, Y/N! MOVE, it jumps on Jess, you scream, "NO! Please- No-"

It lodges its fingers into her throat at rips her jaw off-

"NO-" you jolt upright, fuck- you take deep breaths- nonono- you look beside you, Jess is roused from her sleep next to you.

"Y/N...?" She mumbles

"Shh, Shh, I'm fine. Don't worry about me, go back to sleep, sweetheart." You pet her head gently, fingers grazing the scar

"What happened? You were yelling..." Jess sits up slowly, leaning against you

"I just got a bit of a scare in my sleep. I'm okay, you can go back to bed"

"Y/N..." She whines a little "Please tell me what happened. You never talk about anything."

Youd love to open up, but you need to be strong, she needs someone strong "Jess, I'm alright, I swear-"

"Please, I don't like when you're scared."

"I just- I had a bad dream, but I'm okay, you are what matters,"

"You matter too,"

You shake your head "babe, that night..." your fingers trail over her scars "you were so hurt, you need a strong partner"

"Honey, that's not-"

"Jess, you need someone who won't break down whenever they remember what happened to you. You need someone who- who isn't weak- you need someone who isn't scared, you don't need my problems" you say, desperately trying to not cry

"Y/N..." She takes your hand "I don't want a robot, I want you"

"You need someone to be strong, you're hurting so much, you shouldn't have to deal with my sad shit"

"Shut up, dork!" She cradles your face in her hands "I adore you! I want you to open up to me. I- I want you to relate to me. I already feel so alone, I don't need you hiding a huge part of your feelings from me. I need you, I need you to show me you're hurting too, I need you to show me in not alone."

You felt enormous guilt at her pleading and pulled her into a hug, "ill- ill tell you everything. I promise, I don't ever want you to feel like that. I'm so sorry Jessie. I love you."

"I love you too, cutie."

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆

~Elliebean714

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factual-fantasy · 4 days ago

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26 asks! Thank you! :}}} 🪲

Oh absolutely I do. That's why I always ask before drawing anyone's OCs, or using/modifying their original meme templates, or anything of the sort. Friends and strangers alike.

And same goes for AU ideas. In the past I've seen a really cool idea for an AU and tracked down the OP and asked if I could incorporate their idea into my AU as well. I do my very best to do this for other artists because its what I wish people would do for me.👍👍

I have a master post for all my Octonauts artwork here. 👍

@ripchaos69

I'm really proud of/pleased with how this fairy piece came out! :DD

I also really like how this pixelated cat came out! :)

I was very pleased with how WALL-E cam out in this piece!

I also think this is one of the best drawings of Optimus I've ever done! :))

Even if I knew the answer, that's probably not something I should share online anyways is it?

@mothpendragon

I remember not liking him at all the first time I watched the show. But now watching it a second time years later, I think he's really not that bad. :0 In fact I don't know why I disliked him so much back then.

There are some parts about his character that annoy me. But most of that either is good character writing or isn't his fault. I don't like how immature he tends to be, but of course he's immature. He's still basically just a kid who hasn't experienced much of this war.

And when things get rough, he really straightens out and tries his best to be serious and obedient. Which is very nice to see.

Another thing that I don't like is how the phase shifter was kind'a overused. It became his signature weapon that he used to bail him out of everything. Smokescreen has demonstrated that he's actually pretty clever and slick, it would have been fun to see him trick or outsmart the cons more often instead of just using the phase shifter to save his aft every time. But again, this is not Smokescreens fault at all. Its the writers fault for making his use it so much.

And lastly, something that really made me like Smokescreen was the whole thing that happened with Optimus nearly dying. Smokescreen freaking out at the prospect of becoming a Prime felt really real. Instead of being honored and having and having an inflated ego like I thought he might for some reason- he was terrified.

And him panicking and using the forge to repair Optimus last second felt very real. I could really understand how Smokescreen must have felt, wanting to follow Optimus's orders and restore their home, but also being unable to bare the responsibility of being a Prime. Eventually dragging Optimus back to the land of the living and throwing away any hope of restoring the Omega lock.

If I was better at analyzing characters, I would have loved to draw a comic about what happens right after Optimus was repaired.

My first thought is Smokescreen feeling guilty and ashamed of having used the forge against Optimus's wishes. Would Smokescreen crumble? Fall to his knees, crying and apologizing? "I'm so sorry Optimus- I just couldn't do it-- I couldn't do it, I cant be a Prime- I couldn't-- w-we couldn't lose you.." Is that in character? Honestly I have no idea. 😔

I've thought about doing that for my lineless style, but I haven't gotten around to it.. 😓

If someone goes out of their way to comment on your post/in your ask box saying you're cringe for liking transformers, block the all the way to the sun and back.

What a jerk. I wouldn't be friends with anyone who goes around insulting/trying to upset people for no reason like that. Block them and don't accept/respond any phony apology they might throw your way. They knew they were being rude when they sent that message and deserve to be blocked.

Dude I would take that so fast. No one in my family would ever have to work or have debt ever again 😭

I figure if I ever feel like drawing/posting Octonauts art again, I would just put it behind a paywall on my Ko-fi. Which ngl I've thought about doing a lot recently with the new movie that came out.

But also- I would have no way of filtering out people for that private blog because how am I supposed to know who will and wont steal my artwork just by looking at their account? And when it did get stolen, I would have no way of knowing which follower did it-

I believe I've mentioned it before, but I didn't want to watch Rescue bots because its attached to Transformers: Prime <:/

Its supposed to be connected to Prime, but its rather baby-ified. The tone is much more light hearted, the plot of Rescue bots completely rewrites/contradicts the plot of Prime, Optimus comes back to life for no reason. Stuff like that.

Atm I'm only interested in Prime 😔

@kitkat1003

OUGUHHH SO REALLLLL 😭😭😭😭

REALLL I've only ever found ship fics😔😔😔 I'd love to see an aftermath fic with no romance involved.

@virtualworldfp5

That's a really cool idea! :D Great artwork too! :))

@badlyblurry

Man, if I had a nickel for every time Jeffery Combs played a character with some sort of scientist background and that had some form of contact with a green chemical compound that holds harmful properties to one body in a way, I'd have 3 nickels. Which isn't a lot but its weird that it happened 3 times. XD

@anonymous-red-shades

I'd definitely want to be something that can fly :00 But I don't think I'd wanna fly super fast because i wanna enjoy the scenery.. hmmm.. maybe a helicopter or a classic pontoon plane? :000

As for abilities... uhhhhhhh the only special abilities I know that transformers can have is the warping thing that Skywarp does. I don't know of any other powers <:0 Maybe an ability to change into more than one alt mode..? So I could be a submarine and go underwater? Or maybe the ability to breathe underwater or something? :00

(Referencing this post)

They're so unhinged I swear 😔

@chickenmilk120 (Referencing this post)

NOT YOU TOO-

@cherrycreamfairy

I couldn't find any websites that didn't make my anti virus tweak out <XD So the only villain I like from memory is Captain Gantu from Lilo and Stitch.

I still like it yeah :0 but I'm not really engaging in any Mandalorian media atm-

@minnesotamedic186

Okay the killing part aside a Plymouth Fury is an excellent choice of car ngl. Especially a fiery red 💅💅💅

@axolotlcookie0

The fact that it looks like Thomas's face has been bagged makes it even funnier XDDD

@wolfie-777

XD I actually think of that a lot yeah. I always tell myself "oooo I should draw that later" but I never do XD💀

@beryl-shade

Bibi would probably use it as intended. Sharpening and cleaning his claws💅💅

Meanwhile Cici would use it as a weapon to beat up Jangles and Gerald with XDD

What was his real name supposed to be in that continuity then? XD

@milk-powrit

References. Looooots and looooot of references.

Typically I use references of realistic skeletons. But if there's a part of the body that I just cant seem to draw right, then I look up drawings of skeletons to see how other artists drew that part. 👍

@beryl-shade

Oh no doubt they'll have an episode that takes place around the lake and the fair grounds(?) The theme park next to the main tent-

The fact that Caine mentioned their existence at all implies that an episode is going to take place there. At least for me-

#my response #transformers prime #tfp smokescreen #ngl I kind'a wanna draw that smokescreen thing now but I'm not at all confident that I'd keep him in character 😔#Or optimus for that matter-

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midnight-mourning · 5 months ago

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Holiday Stalling

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 26❄️❄️

Another silly sweet one for y'all, very much enjoyed the shennanigans that occurred :)

Prompt: Second request idea if you need it! Y/n has a christmas party to get to right after their shift and moon and sun see them for the first time in their non work clothes (they look very cute!) The boys are feeling pretty disapointed they don't get to see this side of Y/n and try their best to keep them in the daycare as long as possible ("sunshine you HAVE to see our new puppet show""i didnt see you take your mandatory 10 minute break. my lap. NOW""sunshine i only trust YOU to oil my joints :(") and of course y/n is happy to stay a lil longer but they still want to be able to go to the party(gotta make sure ALL the homies get their quality y/n time)

Word Count: 1329

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You close your locker and check the time. Still plenty of time to head home and relax before the party.

Your friends were having a massive holiday bash tonight, and given you hadn't seen any of them for what felt like ages, you were excited. You'd even taken the liberty to bring nice clothes with you to work just in case you wouldn't have time to run home and change. But since you'd gotten off on time, you could instead take the chance to charge up your social battery before heading over.

You go to out for the day, when you remember you left your jacket in the Daycare.

Hurrying back that way, you quietly open and close the door so not to disturb Sun. You spy your jacket lying amongst the things on the security desk, folded up neatly. The playtime attendant must have been the culprit, as you see on top of your coat is a sticky note with your name and a drawing of Sun.

You smile, laughing softly as you grab it.

You're about to put it on when laughter from across the room stops you.

Sun lands in your view, wire retracting after a moment. "Hello Sunshine! I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon!"

"Hi, Sunny. Yeah, forgot my jacket, which you already know, I guess." You start to put it on again. "Thanks for finding it for me!"

Sun's rays spin a few times. Then he shakes his head. "Of course, friend!"

"Something wrong? You seem kind of dazed."

He puts his hands up. "Oh no, no. I just, we've never seen you out of uniform before!"

"Huh? Oh yeah, guess you haven't." You laugh, and give them a quick spin. "A bit more dressed up than usual, these are my nice clothes."

Sun makes a noise that sounds, off. Like he had a glitch or something. His tone is even when he speaks however. "You look... very nice, Starlight."

"Oh, thank you." You look away, face heating up, then shake your head. "Well, I've gotta run, have a holiday party in a few hours, but I'll see you tomorrow!"

You start to walk to the doors but a hand on your wrist stops you. "Wait!"

You pause, turning back to him. You can hear his fans have kicked on, and it raises your concern once more.

"Are you sure you're okay?" You turn to face him fully, hand over his.

Another noise, then he shakes his head. "Actually Sunshine, I'm not feeling so hot. Could you, maybe stay a moment?"

"Of course I can." You say, voice soft. "Come on, let's go sit down and see if that doesn't help.

You spend about ten minutes with Sun, chatting as you look him over for any potential causes to his issues. He only seems to get worse however, to your dismay.

"Maybe a distraction would help." You grab some crayons and paper and split them between the two of you.

Sun snaps a crayon or two in his haste, but you do think it helps somewhat. In fact, you'd say you made progress enough to be able to leave him alone, when the lights go out.

Moon is not in nearly as bad as shape, he is, however, insistent that you take a rest.

"You've been so helpful, Star. You deserve a break too." He pats his leg. "Besides, I don't believe I saw you take your break today. If you're going to be out late tonight you'll need energy."

You check the time again. You still had plenty to get to the party, and a rest in Moon's arms does sound nice...

You fold, climbing into his lap with a sigh. "Alright, guess that's good enough an excuse for me."

"You weren't going to have a choice in the matter." Moon chuckles, arms wrapping around you.

The two of you chat quietly back and forth, not really tired enough for a nap yourself. There's also the matter that his fans are still going and while not loud, are loud enough that you couldn't sleep even if you wanted to.

When the lights come back on, you're ready to go, but Sun begs you to stay for a puppet show.

"Please, Sunshine. I want to perform it tomorrow for the kids and you're the only one who can give constructive feedback!" His hold on you tightens, having still been in his lap from your previous rest with Moon. "You have to see it. Pretty, pretty please?"

You sigh, giving in based on how eager he is. "Okay, but this better be an amazing show, or I'll be thoroughly disappointed." You tease.

Sun gives a fake gasp. "How could you insinuate it would be anything but?!"

The puppet show is good, you can't deny that. Perfect for the holidays and such. And the surprise of Moon having a show of his own after Sun's finished wasn't necessarily unwelcomed. Sun making you oil his joints 'You're the only one I trust to do it!' wasn't something you were planning on doing tonight, though of course none of this was, but you do that as well since he insists.

But just as you're getting ready to leave again, you're once more stopped.

"Sunny, this has been lovely, but I really do have to get going. My party starts soon." You had another twenty minutes or so, but that's not accounting for driving and the likes.

Your hand is in his, grip tight. "Just one last thing, Sunshine! I promise it'll be quick. Pinky promise."

"Fine. But this is the last thing, okay?" You turn to face him fully, hand reaching up for his face. "You know I love hanging out with you guys, but I have to get to my party eventually."

Sun nods, leading you over to a spot by the playset. He stands there for a moment, holding your hands, before glancing up. You take the hint and do the same.

Above you, tied to the playset, is a small bundle of mistletoe.

Your face blooms with heat and you look back down, making eye contact with him. "Oh, um, don't know what I was expecting but it wasn't that."

Sun's rays spin as he looks away, grip faltering on your hands.

"You, you don't have to if you don't want to. We've... kept you long enough." He fully releases you, stepping back. "To be honest, when I saw you earlier, in your regular clothes it, reminded me, reminded us, that you have an entire life out there without us. I guess we just wanted to be a part of it, for a moment at least."

He starts to walk away, and you grab his wrist. He stops, looking down at the hold as you force him to turn back around. Standing on your tip toes, you tug on his collar so that you can press your lips to his.

It takes a second but Sun melts into the kiss, and you keep going for a few moments longer before you have to pull away for air.

You cradle his face, smile on your lips as you speak. "You guys are part of it, more than you know. And if you wanted more, you could've just ask, but I meant it when I said this was fun, you know."

"W-well, you could have said something too!" He sputters, making you laugh.

You rub your thumb against his cheek, sighing. "Yeah, fair enough."

After making things even for both attendants—which meant equal amounts of kisses and lots of turning the lights on and off—you finally head out for your holiday party.

You have a great time, and it's wonderful to see you friends, but on your way home you can't help but press your fingers to your lips, giggling at the memories of earlier in the night.

You suppose you got two parties—and two partners—for the price of one.

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Thank you for the request @pip-plz!! As you can see I had a lot of fun with the boys being silly/jelly hehe

Thanks for reading!

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#fnaf dca #dca fandom #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #sundrop #moondrop #dca fic #x reader #mm dca december #writing requests #love making them extra silly and clingy #it's so fun #midnight mutterings

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