#and here i am with the lightest fluff

[phoenixmetaphor]

Oct 13 &

Oct 14 - Chreon Aquarium Date (prompt from @cerul-skyefrost ‘s ask to @thebrandywine 😛)

[thekinslayed]

And Now You're Here

summary | When the pains of his loss rendered him weak, there was only one thing that could soothe Aemond's pain

pairing | aemond targaryen x wife!reader

tags | slightly ooc aemond, stubborn aem + stubborn wife, hurt/comfort, mentions of injury and pain, fluff

wordcount | 1k

note | not sure what this is if i'm being honest but i needed something comforting after this week <3

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

Aemond Targaryen was sharply perceptive. With the loss of half his sight, his other senses became acute in their efforts to compensate. He could sense the faintest smells wafting in the room, felt the lightest whisper of a touch on his skin, and heard the quietest clinks, taps, and thumps in the walls of his home. On better days, such abilities would benefit him and his evolution into a sharpened soldier, but today, it irked him.

Five years had come and gone since that cursed night at Driftmark, but the repercussions of what those bastards did to him remained in the pains that coursed through his left socket every so often. It would start as an itch in the scarred cavern, one that would run down the length of his scar, and it would take much of him not to pick at the slashed skin. Then, the throbbing would start, a pulsating drum deep in his temple that would irritate him quickly until the pain would spread, and the swordsman prince would be reduced to an unmoving, suffering stone in his chambers.

With his head leaned onto the back of the settee, Aemond merely sat with his eye closed, taking deep breaths in a futile effort to calm himself. He could feel his hair gently sway with the cool late spring breeze that filtered through the room, a small kindness to aid him in his predicament. The light behind his lid flickered and dimmed with the slow passing of time, a dance of shadows for a boy wounded. At some point in his suffering, he’d begun to make peace with it, had settled his temper into a submission to a pain that would soon pass. That was until the grand old oak doors opened, sending a rush of wind through the vast chambers and disrupting his peace. Aemond clenched his fists yet remained unmoving, too weary to jump to his feet and brandish his dagger at his intruder. 

“I thought I made myself clear I was not to be disturbed,” the prince seethed, the venom in his tone a weapon sharp enough. The throbbing in his temple quickened, now a relentless hammering from the meat of his face down to his skull.

“Even by me?”

The voice was honey-sweet, a cooling balm to blanket his dragonfire into smothered smoke. He opened his good eye and craned his neck to look at where you stood with hands clasped at your front and a knowing smile of warmth on those cherry lips. Aemond never smiled even on his good days, but the sight of you was enough to tempt a lift in the corner of his lips. 

“Does it hurt?” you asked in concern, to which your husband merely responded with a grunt.

“I’m fine.”

You tutted his name in scolding, getting straight to work by swiftly grabbing the salve he’d kept for times like these, but the pain had him stuck to his seat before he could even attempt to find the jar. He closed his eye once more as his wife scurried about in a whirlwind of skirts, grabbing this and that before plopping by his side with a sigh. “Do you want to take it out, or shall I?” you asked, referring to the glinting sapphire eye on his blind side. Aemond remained unmoving, unwilling, and stubborn.

“I told you I am alright. The pain has started to pass,” he lied, yet betrayed by the evident clenching in his jaw.

“Aemond,” he heard you sigh, equally as stubborn to provide him care. The skin on his left forearm tickled to life with your soft caress, gently squeezing in your urging. “I passed Ser Criston and the halls and wondered how he was back so soon when your training would go past well beyond this hour, and then he told me,” you explained softly. 

His breath ran deep as he exhaled through his nose, resolve starting to chip from the warmth on his left side. “I do not need mothering,” he grumbled, finally moving to remove the heavy stone from his socket in reluctant yielding. You merely hummed, wiping off the carved jewel with a clean cloth and setting it aside. 

“That is true, but I am not your mother. I am your wife, my prince, and it is my duty to see my husband well cared for, is it not?” you pointed out, pleased with such a wise thought uttered from your pretty lips. He could chuckle at the satisfied look on your face with his acquiescence, subtly turning his head to see you better. Your hands did diligent work to clean the scarred flesh, not a single trace of disgust swimming in your eyes, and it made his chest feel lighter. The cloth was damp and cool against his face when you pressed, a welcome relief from his torment. 

The salve came next— a balmy mixture of mint, sage, and some sweet-smelling herbs procured by Orwyle. It didn’t do much in truth, for his lingering pains were but a mystery to even the wisest maester’s expertise, but the cooling poultice was enough to distract him. It helped that your touch was a balm soothing in itself, always so gentle despite his ragged edges. Aemond merely watched in silence while you focused, his brow unfurling from the loosened tension that bound them tight. 

“You should’ve called the maester if you were in such pain, my darling,” you frowned. In a comical switch, the one-eyed prince’s lips lifted in an amused smile, lifting his thumb to smooth over the crease between your eyebrows. 

“I have no need for him,” Aemond replied. “You’re here.”

His words seemed to please you, pout reversing back into the smile he loved with all of his angry heart. Your kiss on his lips he loved the most, ever so powerful in healing whatever rot had festered deep within his soul. No maester could ever cure him the way you did. To be so blind with the loss of his eye left Aemond cold, half of his world untouched by the blazing sun and left to succumb to darkness, and now you are here, settled into his side with a touch so loving, and he felt it. It was warm when you were here, utterly bright, and Aemond was whole.

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 04:18 A.M 」

it’s just a pure sugary comfort fluff brain rot accumulated after writing protect—

a part of gojo's love entries

imagine at 4 in the morning, you woke up to this sudden wave of nausea not long after finding out that you were six weeks pregnant with satoru’s baby. the world seemed to spin as you retched the contents of your stomach—the meager bites you had forced down as dinner due to your lack of appetite—to the toilet bowl, tears pricking your eyes and shivering in the cold night air at the discomfort of it all.

your husband was on a mission in kyoto. he wouldn’t be here and you were glad he didn’t have to see you in this state.

you chalked it up to your ears playing tricks on you when you heard the sounds of the keys being turned and the door of your home swinging open and shut. the lines between dream and reality blurred as you staggered while painstakingly making your way back to the bedroom.

but the dizziness overtook you when you swayed dangerously to one side, almost losing your consciousness if it weren’t for a strong grip on your figure that held you firm. you heard satoru swear and shout something at you in pure panic, before lifting you in his arms.

you woke up not long after in his embrace on your marital bed, feeling the cool air conditioning graze your face and gentle pats on your back—the kind of pats one would do to get babies to sleep—and looked up to him.

“hey,” he greeted with a sleepy grin. “feeling better now?”

you blinked. “…you are back.”

“i am.”

“i thought you’d be in two days.”

“how could i? you need me here.”

“i can take care of myself.”

he eyed you sharply. “no? you almost fainted.”

you nuzzled your head on his chest, breathing his scent. “ah, just the morning sickness. have to manage it somehow.”

“exactly, and me being here would help.”

it was stupid, but you felt really warm at his insistence to be beside you.

“definitely your kid, alright. he’s bullying me already,” you pouted. “i can’t eat anything without throwing up these days.”

he put a comforting hand on your still-flat belly. “hmm? so little gojo is making mama unwell this much already? what about when she’s ballooned up?”

you swatted his hand playfully, couldn’t help a smile on your face.

“satoru,” you drawled. “thank you for coming back as fast as you could.”

you felt him squeezing you closer, pressing the lightest of kiss on your forehead. “well, my baby is having my baby. of course i am. i should be the one thanking you.”

[melliemell]

Pairing: Fyodor x f!reader

Contents: NSFW, implied first time for reader, fingering (reader receiving), gentleness and comforting with fyodor 101, implied vaginismus for reader if you squint, sprinkled fluff as well, Approx 1.5k words.

“Come on, don’t forget to breathe now.” 

You blinked, feeling your breath hitch again. Fyodor’s voice was like a distant thought even though his body was flush against yours. Nothing really registered, except the steady rhythm of his hand, fingers slick with your liquids as they brushed against your inner walls. 

You searched for Fyodor’s gaze, finding him concentrated, eyebrows drawn as he hovered slightly over your lying form. He was being careful with you, you knew that, but it still left a sense of not good enough even as you spread your legs wider, tried to ease your muscles into the mattress– yet you still felt the unyielding clench of your pussy, completely not relaxed. 

It felt good. It really did. But it was taking so long and it wasn’t supposed to be like that, right? Fists clenched into the sheets, you hid your face into Fyodor’s chest. 

“Easier said than done… I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“Hmm?” Fyodor glanced at you. “Come now, you’re overthinking again.”

He leaned down, resting his chin on your head. His fingers slowed, curving into your sweet spot as he worked on massaging it. It helped, the pleasure building even more as you struggled to blank out your brain. It wasn’t fair. You should be showing him how you felt, but instead, all you could manage was to huddle up deeper against him, seeking out as much skin contact as possible.

You trusted him. 

But you never expected it to be this overwhelming.

Fyodor’s lips brushed your temple. “You’re doing good. I’m in no hurry.”

“Yeah, but I am. This sucks.”

Fyodor smiled softly, his hot breath grazing your ear. “So harsh. Am I that disappointing?”

You bit back a groan of pleasure, back arching as the bastard curved his fingers again. The slight pain was still there, yes, but duller with every slow thrust, every gentle kiss against your cheek, eyelid, nose, lips. You were melting, breathing hard as the pressure in your belly increased, building up closer and closer to your release. 

You’ve never been this wet in your life, the sound of it so lewd you could practically feel the blush spread on your face and chest. At some point, Fyodor had added another finger in; you don’t remember when that happened.

Fyodor’s fingers spread your slick with every stroke, giving attention to your clit ever so often, making you bite into your lower lip hard, sounds muffled in your struggle. 

“Do you want me to keep going?” Fyodor’s voice was even, composed. 

It irked you how at ease he sounded, a complete contrast to your current state. But that thought all but dispersed as you focused on him, eyes going wide with the sight. Fyodor raised a questioning brow, smile still in place as you locked gazes. The lightest of flushes coated his skin, clear white tinted by soft pink all the way down his neck. You knew he found you attractive, but– his pupils were blown wide, taking all of you in with such detail you could only blink back in surprise. 

And arousal.

Fyodor was almost always reserved in his affections, preferring to express himself in actions that had nothing to do with romance when he wanted to show his adoration for you. A gentleman through and through, and that’s why the thought of having him completely losing it clutched onto you so fiercely you could barely contain yourself.

You had to see him like that. 

You clasped his wrist with your hand, stopping his movement. “That’s enough.”

You winced as Fyodor pulled his fingers. He leaned for a quick kiss on your brow. “I apologize for that. Well?”

You felt his hand rest on your inner thigh, waiting. For permission? You weren’t sure. There was no way you’d let it stop here, and it seemed Fyodor knew that too. Your hand reached, grabbing a handful of soft black hair, and you pulled him over you. Fyodor’s breath hitched just as your other hand reached down to wrap firmly around his base, the tip smudging against your wetness as you positioned his body exactly where you wanted him.

He was so close. Body against body. Skin to skin. He looked at you as if unsure, if only for a second, before a soft chuckle escaped his lips. “I see. Whatever you desire then.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck, biting playfully at the exposed skin. “I’ll make sure to deliver.”

“Hah,” you said, trying to keep calm. “Don’t you go overthinking now. it’s good. We’re good. We got this.”

“My, you sound worried?” There it was, the teasing in his voice again.

You smacked him on the shoulder, gently...this time. “Who’s that, don’t know her.”

The banter was calming, and so were the peppered kisses he left on your neck and jaw. It almost served to distract you as he moved his hips, positioning himself before the firm sensation of slowly being stretched caught your breath in your throat. You pulled at Fyodor, hands digging into his back and shoulder as his cock entered you.

For a moment, it was too much; the sensation overwhelming all of your senses. Fyodor was saying something but you could only nod, not really registering anything. Not until he started moving, you clenching instinctively before gradually easing off to Fyodor’s steady rhythm. 

It felt like wanting more and wanting to get away at the same time. But your hands wouldn’t let go of him, and in turn Fyodor only cupped your face, the kiss far less refined than you’d expect. He was warm, warmer. His flush spreading, his quiet huffs of pleasure reaching your ears as he kissed you there too. 

It was soon you let go in earnest, Fyodor’s presence engulfing you completely. He wasn’t the overwhelming type of lover; instead letting you slowly drown in his careful touches, the movement of his hips at a steady, almost leisurely pace. Like he wanted you to feel everything; the stretch of your inner walls as he bottomed out inside you, the slight brush of his hairs against your clit sending shocks of pleasure down your toes, and your head arching– exposing even more places for him to torment. A hand held your leg in place, raised almost up to his shoulder, Fyodor’s fingers digging into your under-thigh. 

It was too much. Too good. You wondered why you waited so long; what an idiot. You could have been doing this since ages.

You could have… and it wasn’t just the sex. The sounds–

“Hey… are you close?” you asked in between kisses.

Only a breathy, “mmhm…” escaped Fyodor’s lips, and you laughed soundlessly. 

Fyodor was becoming less and less talkative, it seemed. It brought a smile to your face and you pulled him back against you, tasting him. You trailed your fingers up and down his back, feeling him shiver against your touch. Fyodor groaned weakly into your kiss.

You loved the sounds he made. 

“Come on,” you whispered against his ear, feeling his cock twitch inside you. He was close, just a bit more… “Come on, Fyodor… for me.”

A breathless chuckle. “Who else for?” 

Your heart swelled. Oh…

He pulled at your hand, raising it to his lips– maybe he intended a kiss, but what ended up happening was him burying his face against your palm instead, breath hot and heavy. His pace increased, almost erratic as he held you in place. Or you held him. It was hard to tell. Your legs were trembling from the strain, but you barely noticed. Your insides were burning, the sensation almost overflowing. Almost…

“Oh God, oh my god–” You reached down, fingers swiftly finding your clit as you bit into your lower lip.

Your orgasm hit you, sudden and shattering. Breathing heavily, you rode on the feeling of bliss as hands pulled your face suddenly, feeling Fyodor’s temple rest against yours as he completely lost it. Hips hitting your sweet spot mercilessly, expanding your pleasure even more. 

You held him, hands wrapped around his shoulder as you whispered a string of, “I’m here, I’m here, come on, yes–” 

Fyodor’s body jolted, breath heavy against your lips as you felt him finish inside you. You had but a second to grab onto him firmly, keeping him in place as he ceremoniously collapsed on top of you. 

“I apologize,” Fyodor said, after a second. “I might have overexerted myself.”

You laughed. “You think? Damn.” 

For an anaemic he sure exceeded expectations. You couldn’t keep your grin from spreading.

After a few moments of peaceful resting, Fyodor raised himself on an elbow, wincing. He looked down at the mess you both made, and sighed.“I’ll get us some towels. Wait for me here, yes?”

You hummed, reaching to cup his cheek instead, drawing his attention back to you. “Or… we could just take a shower together?” You blinked innocently at him.

He raised a brow, unimpressed. “I feel that’s not the only thing on your mind.”

“Pshh. Of course it is.”

“Hm. Indeed.” And he smiled.

Gosh, you could melt into that smile. 

[luvjunie]

heyyy, idk if your request or open atm but could you write about miles (e-42) sneaking into the readers house at night, to hangout 🤗 nothing nasty LMFAOOO but like a cute lil moment

— 2:00 AM

pairing: e-42!miles x fem!reader

contains: fluff, miles being a big baby because yes

summary: miles has a hard time falling asleep when you’re not next to him. wc: 1,205

a/n: i loveee soft 42!miles omfg 😭 also i realized i changed up the plot a little after i’d already written it and came back to find the request, so i hope you still like it <3

Tossing and turning instead of getting a full night’s rest seemed to be the norm for Miles as of late.

He laid on his back with an irked sigh, hands scrubbing down his face as he lightly groaned into them. There was no need for him to check the time, he already had a pretty accurate guess seeing as he’d been checking his phone every twenty minutes when his eyes would spring back open after another failed attempt to fall asleep.

He missed you. That he couldn’t deny. He’d made the mistake of falling asleep with you one night, and he’s found himself suffering through the same old routine ever since. He’d never slept as peacefully as he did than when he was next to you, and his mind craved your presence more than it craved sleep apparently. The both of you could’ve slept on concrete and he still would‘ve sworn it was more comfortable than his own bed.

It was a stupid idea, and had he not been desperate for a solution he would’ve realized that. But there was no one to talk him out of it as he got up from his bed and fished around in his dimly lit room for his jacket and a pair of nike slides, so it looked like he’d be going through with it anyway.

He scribbled a quick note for his mom onto a post-it note, stuck it to the fridge for her to find after her shift and left their apartment without another thought, making sure to lock the door behind him.

Night walks through Brooklyn didn’t scare him, in fact they calmed him. Everything was quieter at this time, slower— and he knew these streets like the back of his hand. And even if he didn’t, he was pretty good with the switchblade he kept in his pocket at all times. Your place was only a few blocks away, and even through the slight haze casted over him from his lack of rest, he was still vigilant as ever.

He climbed the fire escape just three stories up until he got to your window, using both his hands to hoist him over the steel railing, his feet landing on the old metal as quiet as he could make them.

He hoped that you still kept it unlocked for him, that your offer stood firm when you told him he was welcome anytime. He whispered a plea before he curled his fingers under the edge, sighing in relief when the window lifted open, though the unpleasant squealing due to the age of the pane made him wince.

The last thing he wanted to do was wake you, so he only lifted it halfway, ducking down and stepping into your room and out of the cold. He glanced over to see your cheek still smushed against your pillow, your legs probably tucked into the fetal position with the way your blankets were swaddled around you.

He managed to close the window without making a sound, but on his way over to your bed he accidentally bumped into your dresser, causing a bottle of perfume to clatter into the other objects you had up there.

“Fuck—“ he hissed quietly, twin braids following the act of his head whipping in your direction when you stirred.

You weren’t the lightest sleeper, but the noise had been enough to startle you awake. Lifting your head from the pillow, you sat up quickly, eyes adjusting to make out who the hunched figure was. The two of you had said goodnight just a few hours ago, and now here he was, in your room.

”Miles?” There was a slight rasp to your voice.

“Hey, ma…” he responded, hands nervously hovering over the mess he’d unintentionally created. He fixed it to the best of his ability, but it definitely wasn’t the way you had it before.

You reached over and turned your clock towards you, the bright white numbers making you screw an eye shut.

“Miles, baby, it’s two am in the morning,” you grumbled sleepily, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands and yawning. “What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

Blinking the sleep from your sight, you took in his slightly slouched disposition. He looked exhausted, annoyance from his sleepless night evident in the way he sighed.

”Nah, nah,” he shifted from foot to foot, hand hesitantly raising to scratch his head. His idea seemed sensible at first. He was willing to do anything to get some shut eye, and to see you again, but now he just felt silly for waking you up for no good reason.

“Nothing happened, but I—I couldn’t sleep for shit. So I just thought—“ he rubbed his brow and gave a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know, it’s stupid. I wasn’t thinkin’ straight and I just wanna be laid up with you. I really didn’t mean to wake you up and I can leave if—“

“It’s okay! It’s okay,” you cut his rambling short and opened up your blankets, scooting over to make room for him. “Come on.” Even in your drowsy state you could tell he was getting flustered trying to explain himself.

“Oh thank God,” he said beneath a breath as he shuffled his jacket and shoes off, eagerly slipping into your bed beside you.

You shifted back onto your side like you were before and pulled the blankets over the both of you, his arm instantly slinking around your waist to pull your body into his, your back against his chest.

“I love you so much.” he sighed tiredly.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath in through his nose just as your hand came up behind you to caress the top of his head. His behavior made it seem as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks; like he was trying to refresh his mind of every aspect of you.

“I love you too… Miles, are you sure you’re alright?” you asked, not yet all the way convinced.

“Mhm. Just needed to be with you.” he hummed, his words muffled as he pulled you closer.

“What about your mom? I don’t want her to be worried.”

He grunted at that, his response slurred and barely audible. “She know where I’m at.”

His fingers slipped under the waistband of your cotton sleep-shorts, hand traveling to the round of your lower stomach and resting over it. Why guys were so obsessed with the extra weight girls held there was still an anomaly to you. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it, but he always threw a fit if you didn’t let him hold you like that so you allowed it.

“Goodnight, Miles.” You murmured into the stillness of your room.

Your eyes opened after receiving no response from him, and you were barely able to turn your head to look over your shoulder since his own was occupying the space there.

“Miles?” you questioned gently.

Your answer came in the form of faint snores and slowed breathing from the boy who was knocked out behind you, a smile inching onto your lips at how quickly he dozed off. You let your eyes flutter to a close, ready to fall asleep again, but this time in the arms of your favorite person.

[muletia]

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐜𝐡 ✧˖°

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: optimus is uncertain about touch, fearing that he might hurt you, but with your help, he learns that touch does not have to be associated with fear

cw: mild angst, a sprinkle of fluff, soft!optimus <3

word count: 1400

Cyan optics flicker between you and the report on the datapad. Optimus reads a few sentences without distraction, absorbing the information about the amount of energon acquired and consumed this month with ease, fully capable of focusing for those few nanokliks. But a few sentences are his limit when you are nearby. His thoughts drift elsewhere, into soft, organic realms where they linger, tempting his optics to join them, to make daydreams a reality. And so they do, when the report becomes a dull memory, irritating him with its obligation, and reality becomes you — lying on your stomach on his desk, utterly engrossed in what must be a far more interesting book.

He wants to join you. To set the report aside and return to it later, once your presence is no longer a sweet distraction from his duties. Knows he has let himself slip. Once again, he wants to push work aside at the price of spending time with you, though he cannot afford indulgence. He has put it off for too long; must focus and win this battle against his own addiction. Duty — this is his current priority.

But he cannot look away, still captivated by the smallest movements of your body and its beauty. That is all he can do. Watch. That is enough. He allows himself to look for a few nanokliks, to temporarily satisfy the craving, and then return to what he must do, though he knows full well it is not enough. Optimus knows his own body, knows what it demands, pleading for physical contact with you. But reason advises otherwise, and reason prevails.

Too many dangers, too many unknowns. A fraction too much force, a single gram over the limit, and you cease to exist. You cannot die by his servo. He does not need to witness your death to know that his spark would extinguish at the very same moment. Must be cautious with you. Has learned that he may touch you when he must, but not when he wants, reducing the probability of catastrophe to a minimum. It will never be enough for him; will never be satisfied by necessity alone. But eons of being Prime have stripped him of whims and impulses and have taught him the meaning of true sacrifice. He only hoped that you understood.

Indirect touch is acceptable; that does not frighten him as much. His free servo moves above you, then lowers, forming a kind of shelter over you. It protects, it reminds, telling you that Optimus is with you and thinking of you constantly, yet it does not touch. That must be enough, he convinces himself, though it will never be. You will understand. Perhaps you will appreciate it if you wish to make him happy. But you will grasp that he cannot allow himself more, not out of lack of desire, but out of fear, though he longs unimaginably to feel your beauty, not only with his optics but beneath his own digits.

He does not deny himself the lightest graze against the edge of your foot or calf, but that is all. It is only about sending a signal: I am here. I am watching over you. Anything beyond that terrifies him because he does not know how much he can allow himself. How much force to apply before he breaks you. Yes, a mere brush is enough. He convinces himself. And he does not deserve more.

You lift your gaze from your book and meet Optimus’s optics. He offers you a subtle, endearing smile, an unspoken declaration that you have his full and undivided attention, even if you soon return to your reading.

But you do not. You warm his stoic spark instead, giving him an excellent reason to forget about the report.

"You can touch me if you want to," you break the silence.

You shift onto your side to look at him without straining your neck and place your open book to the side, marking the page with a bookmark. Propping your elbow on Optimus’s desk, you rest your head on your outstretched hand, settling into a comfortable position for the conversation you had been meaning to have with him—because, knowingly or not, he had touched upon a subject that had been weighing on your mind. And his, even more so.

"I apologize. It was not my intention to distract you."

"It’s okay, you didn’t distract me. And you can touch me. If you want to," you repeat, sending a smile his way that melts part of his spark.

He wants to. Longs to. Needs to.

But cannot.

"I fear harming you," he admits, incapable of lying when you look him straight in the optics.

"Is that why you hold back?"

"Yes," he sighs. "I have concerns that I may not be able to properly gauge my own strength. I do hope you understand my restraint regarding physical contact. I assure you, it is not your fault, my dearest."

"I understand. But you won’t hurt me," you reassure him. Yet he does not seem convinced, his optical ridges creasing slightly, uncertainty still visible in optics. "Okay, let me put it another way. Remember when I dropped my phone once? You picked it up between your fin— digits and there wasn’t a single crack. Not even a scratch! I know that from my perspective, you are unimaginably strong, but you can control your strength. You have precision. So I know that you won’t hurt me."

He processes your words in silence.

"I trust you, Optimus. More than anyone else."

That seems to break something in him. Not completely — not yet — but enough to try.

"Very well. If you truly grant me permission…"

"You may. Please." Just to emphasize that you desire this too.

You roll back onto your stomach, and his massive servo hovers above you, fighting hesitation. For a moment, you fear that you have pressured him into physical contact, pulling him out of a comfort zone he was not yet ready to leave, but your worries vanish when Optimus chooses to lower his servo, leaving the restraint on the surface.

His large digits envelop your back and remain there, servo holding still in one place. His touch is incredibly subtle and measured, but the hesitation remains. The fear he cannot yet overcome, even when faced with the exceptional softness of human skin, tempting to sink deeper, to explore everything you have to offer as a human. But he refuses to be enslaved by temptation when he is still on edge. Cannot harm you. He must be careful. That is enough; he dares not ask for more.

Optimus does not tremble with stress, no visible signs of anxiety appear on his frame, but the title of Prime binds him to outward composure in tense situations. Inside, chaos reigns. He sees no sign of discomfort on you, no grimace of pain, nor do you make any sounds that might suggest suffering, which should reassure him. But he cannot be at ease when worries churn in his processor. Am I pressing too hard? Pinning them down? He is grateful for your trust, but he cannot trust himself. Needs certainty that he is not about to kill you by accident.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"Better than alright," you murmur. "Like someone wrapped me in a warm, giant weighted blanket."

"That is… a pleasant sensation?"

"Wonderful." You reach up, stroking the nearest digit. "It’s alright, Opti. You’re not hurting me."

"I trust you," he says, and you gift him a smile he cannot help but return.

"So? Do I feel nice to the touch?"

"You always do. Thank you for placing your trust in me." Because even though his fears still gnaw at him, for the first time, he does not ache for touch. Finally, he can stop wondering, stop dreaming about what he once thought were unattainable desires, and instead focus on the here and now. He reaches for the datapad and resumes reading the report, discovering how clear his processor has become now that his longing has found its grounding in your presence.

"Thank you for allowing yourself something nice for once," you reply and return to your book, wrapped in safety and warmth unmatched by any other source.

[fantasydreamland]

Lonely Nights

khaleesi x fem reader

Summary: You were her handmaiden in Pentos. You followed her and the khalasar when she married Khal Drogo. You have been by her side through all the heartbreak after he died. You all continue your travels and one lonely night Daenerys invites you to her tent for comfort.

Notes: 18+ ONLY!!!! soft khaleesi, wlw, inspired by that doreah scene, smutttt, dry humping, fingering, oral (f&f), fluff fluff fluff, slight angst, some spoilers.

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

taglist

“You called for me Khaleesi?” You say as you enter her tent late at night.

“(y/n), yes… I just cannot find sleep. Truthfully it has been difficult sleeping alone.” She says sadly, “An odd request to ask of you but- would you just lay with me?”

“Uh, yes, of course, Khaleesi.” You say a bit timid.

She moves to make room for you as you climb into her bed and lay beside her. She sighs, stuck in thought.

“If you want to talk with me Khaleesi, you know I am here to listen.” You gently say.

“I don’t know. I have just been feeling so dreadful after everything that has happened.” She confesses. “My nights have been restless.”

“Of course Khaleesi. You have been through so much of late. It is no wonder your mind won’t silence.” You say as you both slightly turn to face eachother.

“It has felt rather lonely…” she sighs. “You are truly the only person I feel I can trust (y/n)”

“I am glad to be the one who you can depend on.” You give a soft smile.

She smiles at your words and gazes into your eyes creating unknown tension between you. Her beauty was even more breathtaking up close like this.

You clear your throat to break the tension.

“Hmm,” she smiles turning her face. “I suppose I should try and get some rest.”

“Of course, Khaleesi. I will be right here.” You give a soft smile.

You both drift off to sleep until she gasps waking from a nightmare. You jolt awake.

“Are you alright Khaleesi?” you ask, concern in your voice.

“Yes. Yes. I-I’m fine.” She pants. “Just another dream.”

She turns to you and her startled face softens.

“It is nice to see your face when I wake though.” She lightly brushes hair from your face. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“Of course, Khaleesi.” You almost whisper, lightly touching her arm.

She lightly touches your arm in response, giving you a grateful look. This leads to delicate appreciative touches on eachothers arms, hair, cheeks. The electricity between you becoming more intense. She holds your cheek for a moment, her soft doe eyes looking longingly into yours. You feel your heart stop. You watch her quickly glance to your lips and back to your eyes. You do the same, your stare lingering on her lips for a longer moment before meeting her gaze again.

She slightly shuffles closer to you, and you do the same, her hand still on your cheek and your eyes never parting. You both continue to slowly move closer to eachother until you’re merely a breath away.

Her eyes continue to gaze into yours, with a more heated look. The moment is unbearably slow as you inch your faces closer until you connect with the lightest kiss, lips barely touching. After parting you both look at eachother, eyes full of lust and excitement, before meeting your lips again. You moan as your tongues gently dance together, it slowly builds into a deeper more passionate kiss. She pulls your body closer against her and you move to straddle her, lips never parting. Her breath hitches as you begin to grind against her, she grabs your hips to aid your movements.

Your lips part as you sit up, rhythmically moving your body on her creating friction of pleasure. The new position adding more pressure. You both breathe heavily as you now move back and forth faster, harder, her fingers digging into your hips and yours into her legs behind you. She gazes up at you admiring all of your beautiful features. You do the same admiring her golden beauty below you.

As your heavy breaths turn into whimpers and moans her hands wander slowly up and down your body. You both let out a long final moan as fireworks explode within your bodies. The whole khalasar able to hear but neither of you could find care in that moment.

With heavy breaths your lustful eyes meet once again. You both break into a small smile and giggle until her eyes turn heated once more. You gasp as she quickly grabs you and flips you over, laying on top of you. You moan as she boldly kisses your lips hard before moving down your neck and chest. She moves below your shirt and kisses down your stomach as her hands push up your skirts. Without hesitation she moves her mouth onto your core drawing a loud whimper from your throat. Your hands nestle into her golden hair as her tongue expertly licks your bundle of nerves. She slowly slips in her fingers causing a long groan from you. She moans against you at the way you tighten around her. Her tongue hits the perfect rhythm as her fingers move slowly in and out of you. You pant and moan as you begin to reach your second peak, grinding against her face. Her fingers suddenly speed up causing wave after wave of pleasure to hit you. You cry out her name before letting out a final heavy breath.

She gives a shy smirk as she moves back up and lands her lips on yours, tasting yourself on her tongue. You quickly push up her skirts and she yelps as you pull her onto your face. Before you’ve really even begun she already cries out, quickly hitting her own second peak as she rides out the wave of it against your mouth. She looks down at you with heavy eyes before plopping down on the bed beside you.

You lay face to face and give bashful smirks and giggles. She looks at you like she wants to speak but doesn’t know what to say.

“Goodnight Khaleesi.” You smile and brush her hair from her face.

“Goodnight (y/n).” She blushes and gives a soft smiles back.

You watch her quickly drift off to sleep before you follow right after. Khaleesi had the first peaceful sleep in a long time. No longer awakening to nightmares, but waking up to the relief of seeing your lovely face laying beside her.

masterlist

taglist

[kestisvrse]

making up for lost time

pairing ⋆ harry osborn (ps5) x gn!reader. angst, fluff. crushing.

synopsis ⋆ harry comes to visit you after being m.i.a for a year.

warnings ⋆ cringe rizz, anxious, first time writing. | wc: 0.6k

everyone has those days were they wake up and can just sense somethings going to happen that day, and living in new york city with a literal superhero swinging around, the feeling was often correct.

today… today was different. it was like a pit in your stomach you get as a kid the night before christmas, the excitement of santa coming in your house to put presents under the tree kind of feeling.

which was odd, because it was around six now, sun almost set as golden hues set along the buildings of new york. unlocking your apartment door you huffed slightly, the anxious feeling for nothing ruined your day, filled you with paranoia.

setting your things down you head for the kitchen to grab any leftovers and plop down on the couch to watch a show to relax, but that moment of peace was quickly interrupted. furrowing your brows as a knock appeared at your door, setting your food back on the table and rising from your seat you shuffled towards the door.

unlocking the door you are met with harry osborn, a face you hadn’t seen in over a year besides the photos tapped in your room and in your camera roll.

he stood there grinning, auburn hair a little messy, like he had been running against the wind, the lightest freckles covering his face that could be missed easily, but you remembered them vividly. he wore a grey henley with a army green jacket, and before you could observe the rest of his outfit you were interrupted.

“i didn’t think i was that good looking” harry teased, you snapped your eyes up to meet his, your cheeks turning slightly pink from embarrassment

“harry.. hi” you muttered out

“hi” his giant grin faded to a small smile “i have a lot to tel- explain to you.” he said looking to his shoes, slightly shifting his weight onto one foot

you nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at you to see it, stepping to the side for him to walk in. he looked around, admiring how well the apartment resembled you.

“mj told me” he turned around and furrowed his brows “that… that you weren’t in europe.”

“right” he cleared his throat, taking a seat on your couch

“i wish you had told me.. i know i wouldn’t have been able to be with you but it would have helped, rather than texting you every week.” he fiddled with his fingers as you sat next to him

“i’m sorry. i wish i had, but i j…just couldn’t” he replied, you nodded looking down at his nervous hands, reaching forward to grab onto one “i didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“it’s okay, i just… i missed you. you do look great though, by the way.” a lopsided smile appearing on your face

“i knew you were checking me out”

“you are ruining the moment” you giggled pushing him slightly with your shoulder, hands slowly weaving together

“i can’t say much, you are still as beautiful as ever” he flirted, a nervous smile appeared on your face as pink tinted your cheeks

“still such a flirt.” you hummed, he shrugged, “god i missed you so much” you chuckled, tears threatened to spill from your eyes just from the shock of it all

“oh please don’t cry” he brought a hand up to wipe away a fallen tear, “i’m here again. and i am healthy” you nod and smile at him, wiping away stray tears with your free hand.

“any plans tonight? want to have those silly movie nights we used to have?” you beamed

“i would be an idiot to deny such a request” harry joked, quickly admiring your features

you smiled at each other, just sitting in each others presence after a year had been taken away from you.

first time writing sorry its bad LOL

[ursemma]

You're the best thing that's ever been mine!

Mattheo Riddle × fem!reader

Warning: trauma, angst, mention of knifes, alcohol, domestic fight, Pansy being a bitch, overthinking mention of depression and anxiety, loneliness, fluff, reassurance. Let me know if I missed anything (Happy ending!)

Post Hogwarts

Summary: basically based on Taylor Swift's Mine song.

'Do you remember, we were sittin' there by the water?

You put your arm around me for the first time

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

You are the best thing that's ever been mine'

Being a guarded person never in my life I thought I would sneak out, that too in the middle of night with Mattheo Riddle, but here I'm sitting by a lake with him, being wrapped around his arms, it's safe to say he brings out a rebel in me and I feel safe with him.

Flash forward, and we're takin' on the world together

And there's a drawer of my things at your place'

Fast forward one year later, we left the town and I moved in with him, he had a place in the town we're staying at. It was our first year anniversary and I bought a cake for him and a watch as a gift. "Matty I'm home." I announced as I kept the cake on the table. Hearing no response I decided to look for him in our bedroom and there he was and there's a drawer of my things at his place and that is open I think I know what's going on.

'You learn my secrets and you figure out why I'm guarded

You say we'll never make my parents' mistakes'

The horror flushed into my eyes as I saw him reading my diary. I've written my entire childhood in that. How my father was alcoholic and how he used to neglect us, how my mother was so busy in work that she basically forgot she had a kid, how my parents reckless and careless behaviour made me so gaurded, how lonely I was my entire childhood that led anxiety and depression at an early age and how pathetic and weak person I was. And how it led to sever attachment issues and fear of being abandoned.

"w-what are you doing with that?" I asked him while carefully trying to read his expression hoping I wouldn't find a glimpse of disgust. Being an overthinker I can't help but think of worst of everything.

"why didn't you tell me?" He asked with curiosity. "Tell you what?" I tried to play it cool but I knew I lost.

"Don't. Don't do that. open up to me, I want to know everything of you y/n/n. Every peice of you. From your worst moments to your proudest, embarrassing to your happiest, darkest to your lightest. Every single thing. And I can't do that if you won't let me." He replied with a serious gaze and that truly made me break.

"what do you want to know? That my father abandoned us and went to exile and suddenly appeared when I was what like 13? And he used to come home drunk and every day I used to witness him and mom fighting every fucking night? Which used to remind me when I was just a fucking toddler my uncle used to do the same the only difference was that my uncle and aunt used to have a fucking knife pointed at each other. My mom trying to be a perfect mother she is neglected me by drowning herself into work. I was all alone witnessing everything with no one by my side. Scared from everything I used to lock up in my bedroom. I had no friends not even in school. I was bullied by my ex and his friends just because I broke up with him. I didn't had anyone to rely on. My fucking friends left me at my worst mattheo. Is that want you want to hear? how pathetic i am??. I replied while breaking down and he wrapped his arms around me while comforting me.

"first you're not pathetic. Second yes. I want to hear all of it every little detail of your life. If you don't tell me what hurted you how am I going to help you heal? I want to be their for you. In every step in your life I want to be their with you. And remember it's not your fault. And we'll never make your parents mistake. I'm not abandoning you or leaving you. You're never gonna get rid of me, you get tired? Sleep. And when you're feeling okay come back to me. The minute you agreed to be my girlfriend was the minute it was decided it's gonna be till death do us apart." He softly reassured me and that's what I needed to hear. For someone to tell me that it's not my fault. That they are going to be their for me. That it's ride or die.

'Do you remember, we were sittin' there by the water?

You put your arm around me, for the first time

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

You are the best thing that's ever been mine'

Me and Matty laid down on our bed and I told him every single detail of my life. And suddenly he spoke "do you remember our first date?" "Oh yes! You took me to the lake and we were sitting by the water!!" I exclaimed as i remembered the memory. "Yeah I can't believe that you snuck out for me" he chuckled. "Yeah and now I ran away with you and left the town" I replied with amusement. "I can't believe that I made a rebel of a careless man's carefull daughter and you're the best thing that's ever been mine."

I looked into his eyes as he said those words and saw nothing but sincerity. "You're the best thing that's ever been mine too, Matty, and I would break thousands of rules if it means spending every second of my lifetime with you." He looked at me smiled and pulled me in for a kiss. "Oh yeah?? Where's my rule following good girl i kinda missed her" he teased me and started to tickle me. "Oh my god Matty stop" i giggled and we spent the night cuddling in eachothers arms.

It's been two years since that incident and me and Mattheo grew up alot more as a couple. I heard his friends are in town and we're going to meet them. "Hiee I'm Lorenzo but you can call me Enzo it's nice to meet you mattheo talks alot about you whenever we meet or calls or text" he excitedly introduced himself.

So I met Theodore, Blaise, Enzo and Draco and they all were friendly, i already like them. As we were about to eat a girl introduced herself, "oh you can't be eating without me can you?" She looked over us and suddenly the table went silent.

"hey I'm Pansy Parkinson, Mattheo's e-" as she was about to complete the sentence "friend. She's our friend." Draco quickly answered. "Oh come on Draco you wouldn't want her to know how me and Mattheo used to smoke late night and cuddle up together? Is that what friends do? How we used to party till late forgetting about the world." Pansy spoke with a smirk and i already got a mean girl vibe from her. I looked over to mattheo and was glaring at her I was hoping for a explanation but was met with a silence.

"oh come on theo scoot over i heard this was a friends reunion and i wasn't invited" she said while taking a seat. "This was a meet up of the boys with my girlfriend pansy and it was better off without you, and i think by not inviting you clearly gives a massage that I didn't wanted you to be here" Mattheo spoke while shooting draggers at her. "Oh come on Mattheo did you forget i was always a party crasher?" She replied by throwing a wink at him.

The entire dinner went silently and I got up and went to restroom to wash my hands "oh comeon do you really think Mattheo loves you?" I heard pansy's voice. "I mean you are completely opposite of his type. You don't party, you don't smoke, you don't dress up, you aren't even that pretty and comeon you aren't even that confident. And trust me Mattheo is known Playboy, if you ask any girl from our school 8 out of 10 girls has dated him. He can't keep a girl longer and you're nothing but another experiment for him" As she spoke insecurity started to crawl up my skin. I mean she was right wasn't she, he has a reputation to keep, he would leave me if he find a better one, and i being myself would be left alone just like always. I'm not pretty enough, i don't do anything he likes, I don't smoke, i don't drink infact i hate alcohol, I lack confidence, I'm weak, I'm fragile, I'm pathetic. "Yeah you're right." With that i left the restroom.

I stared to think about everything she said and don't know how but I ended up at the nearest park.

'And I remember that fight, 2:30 AM

As everything was slipping right out of our hands

I ran out, crying, and you followed me out into the street'

I didn't realised it was 2:30 Am I looked at my phone and there were 80+ missed calls and 150+ msgs from Mattheo, there were 50+ calls and msgs from his friends. "Shit" cursing my self I decided to go home. "Y/n/n is that you??" Mattheo exclaimed with relief as he saw me leaving the park. I was about to exit but he came towards me.

"Where were you why weren't you answering calls and massages and what happened to you?" He asked me scanning my face. " A- as you can see I- I was at the park and m-mattheo after thinking alot I- I think it's best if we-" i stuttered while speaking. 'pathetic. Can't even speak without fumbling. Pansy was right he'll get tired of me.' the devil in me spoke. "If we what?" He spoke being dead serious. "I-if if we broke up." I gathered the courage and spoke it looking at my feet.

"don't you dare. Don't you dare to think of breaking up just bcoz 'you thought alot.' and where is this coming from?." He spoke angrily. "Don't you see? This isn't working and it won't. There are alot of girls better than me. I'm not like you Mattheo. I don't party, I don't smoke, I hate alcohol, I'm not like you. I don't like being in a crowded place. I'm not the one you want. Pansy was right about it Mattheo and on top you've a reputation to keep you'll get tired of me eventually." I hated how I sounded, I hate how this was taking place moreover I hated how it was falling apart.

Braced myself for the goodbye

'Cause that's all I've ever known

Then you took me by surprise

You said, "I'll never leave you alone"

"i think it's better if we parted our ways." I countinued i was met with a silence for a minute and I spoke "wh- why aren't you saying anything?" "Are you done?" That was his answer. "Are you done speaking nonsense? And care to give me a chance to speak?" "Yes I'm done you can say." I replied while trying to sound composed.

"I've changed since I met you. My life then was chaotic and it brought me nothing but destruction. I partied, drank, smoke to drown my sorrow, I changed girls like cloth just for pleasure. But after everything went down with my father and all I changed. I was in highschool then y/n/n. I was a whole different person, I changed the town to move on, to move on with you, to become a better person, and other girls out there they aren't you. I want you. And i don't care about them okay? I care about you. I'll never get tired of you. And trust me I'll never leave you alone. Fuck what pansy said I don't care. the reason I didn't wanted you to meet her wasn't that I still want her it was the fact that I knew she'll pull a stunt like this. And about confidence, it takes time you haven't completely healed, and we're working on that, and I'm there for you. I don't think you're pathetic and I don't care what other's think i love you and that's what matters and it's not your fault what happened with you." He hugged me as spoke those words and I believed him.

Do you remember, we were sittin' there by the water? You put your arm around me, for the first time.

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter.

You are the best thing that's ever been mine.

Do you remember all the city lights on the water?

You saw me start to believe for the first time.

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter.

You are the best thing that's ever been mine.

"And by the way, happy birthday." I looked at him in utter confusion, it's my birthday? Oh shit it is. "I knew you'll forget it" he rolled his eyes teasingly "oh comeon with everything going on you expect me to remember it." I replied playfully and suddenly he got on his knees I looked at him in confusion "so my beloved, as it's your birthday I want to give you a gift. A promise to always be with you in every step of your life, a promise to never leave, a promise to Cherise you forever, a promise to never hurt you , a promise to be with you till death do us apart. Y/n l/n will you marry me and do the honour to let me fulfill every promise I've made and accept my gift?" I looked at him stunned and it was dead silence and the only sound we could hear was of water running in the nearby fountain. "Oh comeon answer me and let me wife you up!!" He whined like a child. I chuckled and screamed "yes Matty I'll marry you!!" He slided the ring on my finger and hugged me we jumped like little kids and my inner child felt safe with him. I started to believe for the first time.

[emo-trash101]

Hii:3  so I've been reading your works and I LOVE them (especially the Ramshackle and Hazbin hotel <3) so I was wondering if yo could write an one shot about Stone with a Male! Reader about what it would be like to sleep with him (you know, cuddles and cuddles and stuff) I have a hc about skipp and vinnie trying to grab the blanket for them while they sleep (obviously not knowing) and i even see them half fighting and pulling the blanket at each other while they sleep and I feel like (of the three) stone is the lightest sleeper so you could say he suffers the most with that so reader help him fall asleep again? I'm sorry if I made it too long but I better leave it until here because then I start to extend more and in fact this is already extending more but my English is not so good and I had to use translator in several parts of this to make sure that if I wrote it well but anyway sorry for making it so long sorry again 

-🥸 (I love this emoji omg it looks so silly and goofy and it reminds me of me fHAHSJANAJANJSGDUSIWJAJJ)

Ofc I would love to write this! Also dw about your english, I understood it very well! I couldn't really find a good way to write it in one shot form (I'm so sorry 🙏🙏🙏) but if you want me to try and rewrite it just let me know!

Stone x M! reader

Pronouns: Second person, implied male

Tw: uhhh, too much fluff???

- So I'm gonna preface this by saying I don't think Stone is particularly touch starved(I know a lot of people headcannon him as being touch starved(no shade to them)), he just doesn't like touch very much.

- Like in several scenes we see him tell Skipp to not touch him or to let go off him.

- So I think cuddling would be a kind of thing where it's not often, unless it's like winter time or on of y'all is drunk off your ass.

- But I feel like Stone would be really cold in general.

- Like cold hands, cold feet, cold everything

- So idk if y'all like that but it's the truth.

- That being said, he's probably a blanket hog by accident and it turns into a fucking war just to not freeze to death.

- Also cuddling with him lowkey sucks. Like he's basically a sack of bones, and last time I checked that is not super duper comfortable.

- And then ofc, we have the lovely Vinnie and Skipp.

- They thought it would be silly to take away the blanket y'all were sharing (Cause no amount of alcohol can raise that man's body heat nearly enough to be comfortable)

- He obviously woke up (Because I agree, light sleeper Stone for the win!!!)

- And you wake up to people yelling at 2:00am (sounds just like home)

- But in all, do I think he dislikes cuddling, yes. Do I think he's freezing cold all of the time, yes. Do I think cuddling with him would probably be hella uncomfortable, also yes. But none of that should stop anyone.

- Go cuddle your angsty sickly victorian looking boy to your hearts content (dw I wanna cuddle with him too)

I just realized this lowkey sounds like pure Stone slander, I PROMISE I AM TOO A STONE SIMP I SWEARR 🙏🙏🙏

[darkwicks]

it’s so sweet, knowing that you love me

Everything feels better when Genji is with you.

( genji shimada x gender-neutral reader | ~0.8k words )

content: emotional hurt/comfort, some fluff, established relationship (can be read as either romantic or platonic, whichever you’d prefer :)) genji loves u <3

etc: divider by cafekitsune; tagging @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @enchantedforest-network @ghostqueue; cross-posted on ao3

“I have not seen you around recently.”

You look up to find Genji leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. Quite some time has passed since you first met him. If you were younger, you would’ve jumped out of your skin at his unexpected arrival, but you didn’t. Instead, you didn’t bat an eye, far too jaded to be surprised by anything anymore.

“I’ve been busy,” you say.

Your words feel practised, dishonest, though they aren’t entirely false. Between the increasing Null Sector attacks and the pressure Soldier: 76 has been putting on you, time has felt like it’s been slipping out of your hands. You wish you could be as uplifting as Lena, or maybe as relaxed as Cassidy. It’s never been in your nature to relax, you suppose, having been raised in a disciplinarian family. Yet here you are, curled up in your blankets as you wallow in self-pity, looking the most pathetic you ever have in front of him. 

He doesn’t seem bothered by it, something you can’t decide whether to feel thankful or upset about. Guilt begins to seep into your system as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. As if he can sense your spiral into pessimism—he probably can, he’s known you for long enough—he laces his fingers with yours, the metal cool against your skin.

A beat of silence passes.

“Genji?” 

He hums, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t like him seeing you in such a state. Genji caresses the back of your hand with his thumb, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. It’s hard to discern what he’s thinking. He’s been keeping his mask on more frequently, just out of habit, but a part of you wishes you could just see his eyes on you one more time.

“I know you didn’t mean to ignore me,” he speaks up, turning his head in your direction. “But I have missed you. That’s why I came here.”

You manage a weak smile. “I missed you too.”

“Cassidy has been asking for you as well.” There’s an amused lilt in his voice. “He said it’s sad not having his favourite sharpshooter around.”

That gets a chuckle out of you. “His favourite sharpshooter?”

“Yes. And mine too.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at how easily he says it. The fact that he’s holding your hand isn’t helping much, either. Still, it amazes you how a simple two words can make you feel the lightest you’ve ever been. You missed this. You missed him.

“Don’t say it like that,” you mumble, flustered. “I’m trying to mope, Genji.”

“I am not allowing it.” He lets go of your hand and you’re already missing his touch, your bottom lips slightly jutting into a pout at his sudden movement. It doesn’t last long, though, now that he’s shifted his position so he’s laying his head on your lap. “And I was only telling the truth.”

“Shut up.” There’s no actual malice in your words. Even without your other hand coming down to cup the side of his face, you think he knows that very well too. “You can’t just come in here and get me all soft and mushy, you know. You’re so mean.”

“I am mean?” he retorts in mock offence. “I tell you that I miss you, but I am mean.”

“Yeah. The meanest.” You giggle, bringing his hand up to your lips to press a gentle kiss on it. With a pleased sigh, you feel your worries ebb away and let yourself sink into the comfort he brings you. “I’ll probably come back tomorrow. I’m feeling better anyway—”

“You will come see me first, yes?”

You playfully nudge his head away, avoiding his gaze again because somehow it’s like second nature for him to make you feel this way. Like you’re a blushing protagonist of a romance story. In a last ditch attempt to keep your cool, you clear your throat and say in the most deadpan tone you can muster.

“Actually, I think I’ll see Winston first.”

“You would prefer him over me?” You can practically hear him sulking. “And you say that I am mean.”

You find yourself smiling at how natural it feels to fall back into this kind of rhythm with him despite all your setbacks and isolation. It makes your heart swell in joy, being cared for and understood by someone like him. 

“Hey, get up,” you urge him gently. He does so without question, though he still tilts his head at you curiously. You scoot forward, finally leaving the mass of blankets to throw yourself in his arms, pressing a kiss to where his cheek would be. “I love you, Genji.”

He lets out a content sigh. “I love you too. You don’t have to push yourself so hard.”

You fall into a comfortable silence. In the embrace of the one you love, you’re slowly lulled to a peaceful slumber until he speaks up again, this time sounding genuinely concerned.

“But you will come see me first tomorrow, right?”

Your laughter is all he hears.

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

The Outsider: Part 5

Hasil Farrell x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Swearing, Alcohol (Mostly Farrell Wine) Gun Violence, Broken Established Relationship, Cheating, Domestic Violence

- Part 4 Here -

——————————

18+ Only

——————————

Hasil’s long, roughened finger tips ran down the length of your stomach from your chest, resting against your underwear’s hem, as he looked down at you longingly, propped up on his arm on his side of the bed.

You lay in the afternoon sun that spilled through the dirty glass, eyes closed as it warmed you and his hands played with your soft skin.

“You’re so beautiful. When are you gonna let me marry you?” He grinned.

You let out a chuckle as your eyes shot open, “Hasil it’s only been a few weeks.”

“So? I know I love you more than I’ve loved any other thing before, isn’t that enough?” He leaned over you, his fingers stroking your jaw longingly.

“I love you too, Hasil… but I’m still technically married, legally, to Wyatt. I need to figure out how to get out of that one first without being beaten black and blue.” You sighed, sitting up and turning your back to him.

“‘Legally’ don’t mean a thing up here. Our way is the right way, marryin’ me will get rid of your Lostie Marriage, dissolve it away like paper in a heavy rain. Let me run the gauntlet for you.”

You let out a chuckle and looked at him over your shoulder, and you wished it were that simple. “Some day.” You agreed.

Truth was, you would trade your marriage to Wyatt for a marriage to Hasil in a heartbeat, no questions asked, but you still weren’t sure of where you stood on this Mountain, and just how long you could play happy families up here.

You got up and climbed out of bed suddenly, throwing on your linen dress.

“Where you goin’?” Hasil protested.

“I need to speak with your Bren’in.”

—————————

You found G’win tending to her plants in her green house, and you wondered how she found the time to manage her people’s needs as well as continue her work as a healer.

You knocked gently on the open door, waiting for her to look up before you entered.

“Hi, Bren’in.” You smiled shyly.

You’d only spoken to her a handful of times since the night you arrived.

She held up a hand, “Please, call me G’win.”

You nodded, “G’win, I was hoping to have a word about my time here.”

She gestured for you to sit, so you did and she sat across from you, hands folded and waiting patiently. You took a deep breath.

“You and your people have been unbelievably kind to me since I’ve been here, but I know my time is limited.”

She didn’t speak, patiently waiting for you to go on.

You cleared your throat, “I was wondering… if there’s anything I can do to extend my stay, just for a bit longer until I can figure something out? I am happy to work, I don’t expect to stay here for free.”

Her eyes bore into yours so intensely you almost felt uncomfortable, shifting in your seat.

It was almost as if she was studying you, your soul and your entirety.

Then she finally spoke, “What are your intentions with our Hasil?”

You were almost taken aback by how brash the question was. “I… I love him. I’ve never felt a love like it.”

She nodded, standing from her seat. “I notice your wedding band is gone, have you fully renounced your former husband?” Her back was turned as she began snipping cuttings from larger plants.

“Yes, I don’t want anything to do with that life anymore. It was the darkest point of my existence, and this… here, with Hasil and with your kin, it’s the lightest I’ve ever felt. But I’m not sure I’m ready to face him yet to make it legal.”

She looked at you over her shoulder, a grin forming on her face.

“I can tell you love Hasil, and he loves you so intensely it would be cruel to send you away. I know if I did we’d lose him too… You can help me here, I’ll teach you to be a healer. If that suits you? Starting tomorrow.” She offered, and you were taken aback by the gesture, not having expected her to be so willing.

“Thank you, G’win.” You smiled, getting up from your seat, forcing down the excited squeal that threatened to spill.

She nodded to indicate you could leave, and you dipped in a curtsy, before turning to walk out of the greenhouse.

“Oh, Y/N?”

You turned back, “Yes, G’win?”

“This isn’t usual, and no Bren’in before me would ever have allowed it, so I need you to set a good example, or else everyone’s gonna think they can bring whoever they like up here, ok?”

You nodded and smiled at her gratefully, “You can count on me.”

Running back to Hasil’s cabin, excitement surged through you, relief like nothing you’d experienced before, that your time here or with Hasil was not limited after all. There was nothing holding you back.

You burst into the cabin, where Hasil had just began to dress, still shirtless and glowing from the night before. He turned to look at you, confusion plastered across his features.

You ran up to him and jumped into his arms with a squeal, peppering kisses across his surprised face.

“What’s this all about?” He chuckled, spinning you around.

“I can stay. I can stay Hasil.” You exclaimed excitedly. Hasil’s eyes widened and his arms tightened around you.

“You’re pullin’ my leg.”

You shook your head and pressed a long kiss to his lips. “I’m all yours, I’m not going anywhere.”

Hasil captured your lips again in a frenzied kiss, passionate and urgent.

When he pulled away, he had a grin on his face.

“Honey, I would have followed you down this mountain anyway.”

——————————

Wade knew the moment Wyatt walked through the door of his office that he was in for a headache, and he preemptively popped two painkillers and swallowed them dry.

He already knew what he was going to say. He said the same thing every day since reporting his wife missing.

“There’s not much we can do, Wyatt. Not until we get a hit-“

“I told you, she’s up on Shay Mountain with those fuckin’ hillbillies!” Wyatt yelled over the desk at the Sheriff, someone he’d bullied for years in high school, and he wasn’t about to stop now. “It’s been 2 weeks. If you won’t go find her, Wade, you best believe I will, and I’ll have you out of a job!”

Wade rubbed his face, sighing in frustration because he knew Wyatt would, and if anything bad happened to him, his father would never let Wade live it down. He’d be ruined, more so than he already felt.

He rubbed his stubbled jaw as he looked up at Wyatt under the bright fluorescent lights. “You definitely saw her go up there?”

“Yes Wade, that’s what I’ve been tellin’ you! One of them fuckin’ Farrell fuckers turned up on my lawn the other week and beat me within an inch of my life.” Wyatt began to pace.

“Well why the hell didn’t you report that sorta thing?”

“She begged me not to!”

Wade’s face scrunched up, “She? Your wife?”

Wyatt nodded, “Says they’d become friends but… I think it’s more than that, he’s seduced her. I will kill him, Wade, once I find him. Anyone in my way too.”

Wade knew he meant it, and the last thing their town needed was a blood bath, especially with the Farrell’s. At least if he was there, he could stop Wyatt from making any mistakes in the blindness of his rage.

“Alright, fine. If you’re sure, I’ll get a party together and we’ll go up at dawn.”

———————————

You floated down the mountain, your bare feet effortlessly finding mossy coverings like you’d known the mountain all your life, your hands brushing against trees as you followed the same route you had night after night since arriving on this mountain.

You weren’t there though, your eyes were open but you were somewhere else, deep down locked away in a dream as your legs carried you through the dark.

“Soon.” You murmured, “Have to prepare.”

Hasil wasn’t far behind, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he followed you closely, listening to your mumbling as he caught up with you.

“Hey…” he whispered, his hand enclosing around your upper arm gently as he turned you around, “Come on, let’s get you back to bed little lady.”

He dipped to scoop you up in his arms as he had done so many times now, but this time you held a hand out to stop him. “They’re coming.” You whispered, urgent, terrified.

Hasil looked at you for a moment, checking if you were still asleep. When he was sure you were, he nodded, “Ok, it’s okay… let’s get you to bed.”

Scooping you up in his arms, he began to carry you back up the mountain and you nuzzled into his neck, going back to sleep like you’d never even gotten out of bed in the first place.

Hasil placed you gently in bed and tucked the woven blanket around you. He didn’t get back into bed with you, though, and after stroking your hair and listening to your breathing return to the normal pattern he’d gotten so happily used to, satisfied you were out cold, he made his way to G’win’s cabin.

He knocked lightly, aware of the early hour, the sun barely making an appearance on the horizon. The door flew open and G’win looked at Hasil with groggy eyes.

“Cousin, is everythin’ alright?” She asked, concerned.

“I’m sorry to wake you, Bren’in… but there’s somethin’ urgent I need to speak with you about.”

G’win nodded, moving to the side and Hasil let himself in. “Where’s Foster?”

“There’s been some reports of town folk gatherin’ at the bottom of our land, they’re just out investigatin’.”

Hasil felt his body shake, and your premonition’s suddenly made sense. “Bren’in, I think my girl’s been tryna warn me about a war comin’ with the Losties.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s been sleep walkin’ every night near enough, mumblin’ about preparin’ for someone or somethin’ comin’.”

G’win paced the dimly lit cabin, “She didn’t say what?”

Hasil shook his head, but they both knew.

“Her husband’s comin’ to take her back.” G’win stated solemnly, something they knew would happen sooner or later.

“With all due respect, Bren’in… that man lost all right to call himself her husband the moment he laid hands on her.” Hasil straightened, the word sending anger up his spine.

“Maybe so, cousin Hasil, but the way townies think is different to you or I. Their rules dictate he may lay claim to her until officially declared otherwise by law.”

“To hell with their law!” He hissed, “So what? I’m just supposed to let her go? To let him take her? I’d sooner die.”

“I didn’t say that… but we need to prepare for the lengths he’d go to, to get her back. Pride is a stronger emotion than love for men like him.”

“What can we do? What can I do? I have to keep her safe.”

G’win thought for a moment, pacing back and forth. She’d grown to really like you over the last few weeks, working closely with you as she trained you. You were quickly becoming part of the clan, and she felt protective of you now too.

“I have an idea… but I’m not sure she’s gonna like it.”

————————————

Wyatt didn’t tell Wade until it was too late and he was already climbing the hill where they’d shortly start their search, that he’d wrangled 10 of his best gun toting buddies, blood thirsty and eager to put a bullet in anything that moved if they had even a fraction of an excuse.

When Wyatt had laid it on thick, telling his high school friends how a Farrell had swooped down and stolen his wife, they were more than happy to show their support.

Wade groaned, a pit of regret in his stomach, “Wait wait wait, what the hell do ya’ll think you’re doin’ with those?” He held up a hand to the large group of heavily-packing men, guns and crossbows adorning them like jewellery.

“Move, Wade, before you get hurt.” Wyatt swatted him away like a fly that buzzed annoyingly in his face. He only needed Wade to organise the search party so that they had a warrant and the manpower if it were needed, but Wyatt fully intended to lead the search in his own way, and he was ready to take out anyone that got in the way of him finding you and ending Hasil’s life.

“Wyatt, god damnit you can’t just march up there with them guns, do you know what you’re gettin’ yourself into? This is too much, you’re makin’ it dangerous for everyone involved. I’ll have to pull out if you’re not gonna follow my lead!”

Wyatt turned to look down at him, and at the 30 or 40 volunteers who’d pooled on the hill.

“Who here wants to follow me and see a Farrell head on a spike?!” He roared.

A second of uneasy silence filled the air, but one by one people began to cheer in support, spurring each other on until they were full on chanting as they walked up the hill.

The few others remained behind Wade, staring up in horror at their neighbours and friends who they hadn’t expected to be so vile.

“The rest of you spineless shrimp can go back down to your beds and pretend this never happened.” He waved them off condescendingly.

Wade gave him a look of warning, “Wyatt, you don’t wanna do this, trust me.”

“Or what? You’re gonna get me ‘in trouble’?” Wyatt’s entourage chuckled like a group of teenagers behind him. He was still the same bully he always was. “My dad will end you if you even think about tryna stop me, Wade.”

And with that warning of his own, Wyatt lead the group up the mountain, up towards the unknown, with nothing but revenge and chaos on their minds.

——————————

You stretched, waking just as Hasil walked through the door to his little greenhouse cabin.

“Where’d you run off to?” You cooed, reaching for him.

Hasil knelt next to you, his elbows on the bed as he cupped your hand in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles one by one.

“Do you remember dreamin’ anything last night?” He asked gently, hesitantly.

You took a deep breath and sighed, “Vaguely… why? Did I sleep walk again?” You frowned.

Hasil nodded, “What did you dream?”

You thought hard, but the harder you concentrated the further away the dream seemed to slip. “I… I can’t remember, I’m sorry.”

Hasil stroked your messy hair out of your eyes and he gave you a reassuring smile, “Don’t be sorry.”

“Is everything okay?”

He sighed, taking a moment to think as he bit his cheek.

“Hasil?” You pressed.

Hasil looked you in the eye, his face so serious it scared you.

“He’s comin’, Y/N. Pretty sure he’s already on his way, but-“

You were already on your feet, face pressed up against the murky glass in an attempt to find him, to escape, panic beginning to tighten around your skin, like a trapped animal, caged in and ready for the slaughter.

“Hey, stop-“ Hasil reached for you, but you were frantically pacing already, biting your thumb as you mumbled to yourself.

“No, no… fuck!”

“Baby listen.” Hasil had to grab your shoulders to stop your pacing, and your eyes were wide and terrified.

“Hasil we need to go, now.” You begged.

“Listen… I have a plan. I need you to hear me out, fully, from start to end, can you do that for me?”

You nodded.

“You’re not gonna like it, but I need you to trust me.”

You nodded, you trusted him with your life, but you weren’t ready for what was to come, nothing could have prepared you, not even your nightly premonitions that burrowed themselves into the back of your mind.

—————————

- Part 6 Here -

Taglist:

@starry-eyed-wild-child @kappasbbgirl

[notanodinarygirl]

I don't write fics, it's not really my thing and also because I don't need to because I have mutuals who are expert in the art of writing heart-wrenching angst and/or heart-warming fluff (all sabezra themed). But I was REALLY free the last whole month and I came across this trope of "love like breathing, beauty is breathtaking" and I couldn't help myself but give into this feminine urge to write a sabezra coded fic with this trope.

So here I am presenting you all my sabezra oneshot.

"Come on Ezra, you're going to miss it", Sabine said over her shoulder, already standing by the railing of their balcony.

Ezra joined her a minute or two late, rolling his eyes.

"Sabine, like I said I've watched enough stars and orbs in the unknown regions. This one is nothing new."

"Yes it is. You haven't seen a phenomenon like the one on Lothal. You need to see this Ezra it will be mesmerizing!"

The whole Lothal was excited to see this phenomenon, which took place once in every thirteen years. And Ezra insisted that they should watch this event by themselves on their tower. Not only because the comm tower provided one of the best views in the entire lothal but also because he wanted them to enjoy this scene together, alone. Not to mention it would also be more romantic.

To be honest, he was not really excited for seeing this event, even though he had seen it only once in his lifetime. Which was when he was thirteen. And he didn't like remembering that day.

He was not really living the best times of his life back then.

Which is why he agreed to see this with Sabine. Maybe, it might change his memories he had with this phenomenon.

"It's going to began in 5...4...3...", Sabine began counting the final moments before the show.

Everything around them tuned out when they saw the sky burst into a million shades of golden and bronze with speckles of stars shimmering in the lightest shade of orange. The clouds haloing the beams of light with pastel shades of purples and pinks. The whole sky looked like a painted version of dreams and fantasies.

He turned his head to see Sabine's reaction.

And goodness, the view was mesmerizing.

The way her amber eyes shone as she gazed at the beaming lights, the way the stars were swimming in her eyes, the way soft bronze gleam illuminated her copper skin; made his heart flutter in awe as he stared at her, mouth agape.

"Beautiful, isn't it?", Sabine asked not taking her eyes away from the scenery, in the fear of missing out something.

"Yes, breathtaking.", He whispered, unable to peel his eyes off her.

Breathtaking.

It was ironic how her beauty was more than just breathtaking to him but loving her? Loving her was more than just breathing.

She was his heart, his heartbeat, his every single breath.

She was his life.

She was everything he was living for.

And this moment proved nothing but just one of the million reasons he loved her.

Hence, maybe watching this phenomenon was not such a bad idea.

[phyrestartr]

Hi there! I am unsure if you have requests open or not, but if you do, could I request a Miguel x F!Reader where reader wants to tell Miguel that she identifies as non-binary, but struggles to do so out of fear of Miguel breaking up with her.

There is one scene I have in mind for this in particular is that while having sex, Miguel tells the reader that he loves her, and the Reader has to hold in her/their tears because she/they truly believes he won't anymore when he finds out.

If this request is uncomfortable, please feel free to ignore!

Simply You | Miguel O'hara x F/NB!Reader

Miguel x F/NB!Reader W/C: 2.5k

#NSFW, hurt/comfort, fluff, fem-presenting reader, pre-established relationship, miguel is Spiderman, set before ATSV, adults talking like adults, healthy relationship ayo

Note: Tysm for this request! As a NB girlie, I really relate to this sort of struggle with coming out/explaining my identity to people close to me, so, in a weird way, I really enjoyed writing the reader fumbling with the explanation lol?? Idk but this was kinda sweet and therapeutic to write! I hope you enjoy :')

--

Miguel loved you. You loved him. It was simple. 

Only, it wasn’t. Not for you.

Shame ate at you every time you felt his embrace, every time he filled you with a searing heat only he could control in your tumultuous, all-feeling heart. That self-condemnation didn’t come because of who you were, no, but because of what you couldn’t tell him, what you were too afraid to tell him. 

But you could cope, you always had. Did it really even matter, anyway? Did you need to bring that out into the world, to declare you were someone more nuanced than the snarky, kind woman he fell for? Was it worth it to walk and breathe, to sing and smile, to love and dance in the truth of your ipseity if it meant losing your one and only, your partner for life?

You didn’t know. You didn’t know if love would welcome the truth. 

You didn’t think the ceiling would hold the answers either, as much as you stared up at it that morning, hoping for an epiphany. The heels of your palms dug into your eyes while you sighed a shaky, weak sigh, and found the strength to roll out of bed. Or, well, at least sit up. 

“Heeey,” Lyla chirped as she flickered into being beside you. “Everything cool, buddy?” 

You tried a smile and nodded. “Yeah. Everything’s cool. I’m cool. It’s just one of those days, I guess.” 

“Yeah, I get that. It happens, so don’t sweat it, alright?” The digital Tinkerbelle gave you a reassuring, glitchy smile as she made a show of patting your arm. “Is it ‘cause of last night?” 

You grimaced, and Lyla nodded judiciously. 

God, you didn’t want to remember that. Bursting into tears just because he said he loved you was just–it wasn’t exactly how you wanted it to go. 

You’d been here so many times, his chest pressed to your plush breasts, his words whispering softly into your ear in a tone both sinful and endearing, but it always felt like the first, somehow. 

Each easy push into your heat pulled a dreamy sigh from between your soft lips time and time again. Each drag of your nails against his back, every fistful of hair tugged gave you the lightest of moans, the softest sweetness you’d never imagined you’d find in a man like Miguel O’hara. But you did. And you cherished it. You cherished him. 

“That good?” He mumbled against your neck as his pace quickened subtly with the grip holding onto your waist. Your thighs cozied up against his sides harder as your partner dove deeper and deeper to your centre, rubbing up just right against your velvety walls. 

“Always,” you mumbled back. And he smiled against your skin, a small laugh joining the gesture. You smiled, too, and gasped when he snapped his hips against yours harder, faster, delivering you pulse after pulse of hot pleasure without breaking a sweat.

He kissed your throat before finding your mouth again, and murmuring against your lips, “even better?” 

You convinced your eyes open to catch a glimpse of his snarky, punchable smile. You rolled your eyes and raked your nails against the nape of his neck to feel him shudder and stutter from the pleasant tingles crashing down on him. Sure, you had your weak spot, but he had his, too. 

“You’re a brat.” But you kissed him anyway, that grown-up brat you were so smitten with. 

“You love it,” he said as he nipped your bottom lip. “Almost as much as you love me, I bet.” 

“Oh, is this gonna be a trend? You flirting with yourself on my behalf?” You chuckled and looped both arms around his neck while you kissed him again, and again, and again. “But, yeah. I love you, whether you’re being a little shit or a tough guy.” 

Bright fondness turned crimson eyes into glittering rubies. It fuelled your ego, knowing your praise and love could get your man so excited and full of himself. You didn’t mind it–you encouraged it, actually. He deserved all the recognition and worship humanity could offer. 

“And I love you,” he offered back.

You shifted, eyes widening a bit as the delicate balance in your heart started to waver. Maybe he’d stop there. Maybe he wouldn’t keep talking.

“No matter what.” He buried his face into your neck and inhaled your scent. “Te amo, mi amor.” 

And you cracked. You cried. Because he might only love the shell of you.

You hung your head and rubbed your face with an embarrassed groan. “Was it…bad? Like, secondhand embarrassment bad?” 

“Eh, nah, not really. You covered it up pretty well with ‘I’m just really happy, that’s all.’” Lyla sighed and shook her head. “You’re good, I’ll tell ya that. But you might just wanna be, I dunno, honest?” 

You stared at her blankly. “...No, thanks.” 

“Wooow.”

“I–it’s just not easy. I don’t know how to–to put it into words, or how to really just, y’know, sum it all up.” You ran your hands through your hair and made it into a nest fit for a family of crows to live in before you got up and wandered to the kitchen in search of coffee (because that would definitely help your anxiety). 

Lyla reappeared in the kitchen by your side. “Okay, well, how do you sum it up for yourself?” She adjusted her sunnies a bit as she watched you. 

You paused mid-scoop, and stared down into the tin of grounds, brows furrowed. “It’s complicated.”

“Great!”

“How is that great? It doesn’t solve anything.” 

“Nah, but it’s a start.” 

You blinked, dumbstruck. Because damn. She was right. 

–

You mulled it over in your head and in your heart, thinking hard about how to bring it up to him now that you'd decided, yes, you were in fact going to bring it up to him, to be honest with him. Your nerves recoiled and your stomach roiled when you tried to recite that unwritten script festering in the back of your throat:

“Hey, babe, I need to talk to you about something. It’s nothing bad. It’s just, uh, y’know. I, uh…” 

“Hey, Miggs? Can we talk? It’s nothing serious or anything, but–well, okay, maybe it is serious, just not to you–I mean, no, no, I don’t mean you don’t care or–shit.” 

“Hey, so, there’s something kinda complicated that I wanna talk about, and, uh…just don’t freak out, okay?”

“Okay,” Miguel said. You let out an ugly noise, something between a gasp and a squawk, as you whirled around to see Spiderman himself sitting in your open window with a bag of takeout in his stupid hands.

“Miguel,” you wheezed. “I, uh.” You wiped your palms on your pants and willed the shock away. God, he was so annoying. So goddamn annoying. Why’d he have to show up now? “I thought you–don’t you have work? Wait, come inside first, what’re you doing? Jeeze.” 

He waited for you to come over to him and pull him inside instead of getting up himself. A very Miguel thing to do. He just liked you to worry over him, to get all exasperated and tell him he was being a brat because, well, he thought it was cute. Miguel was a very simple man with simple pleasures. 

“Technically still at work,” he remarked, very blase as you dragged him inside the apartment before closing the window. He set down the take out and rummaged through it. “Lunch break. That turned into a ‘saving Nueva York’ break.”

You nodded and crossed your arms to shield your hammering heart from him. “And now you’re here because–?” 

Miguel shrugged and deactivated his mask as he turned to you, handing you a box of pad thai. “Sorry, didn’t know coming to feed my girl was a punishable offence. How many years do I get?” 

You smiled, and the wild thumping in your chest ebbed. “Dunno yet. I’ll consult the jury.” You took the box from him with a soft “thank you” on your lips, and you sat at the kitchen counter beside him. 

“I await the verdict with bated breath.” Miguel chuckled and shook his head before peeking over at you to catch a glimpse of your fond smile. But he stared a little too long, and you could feel pointed rubies pressing against the side of your face. 

“What?” You asked when you met his gaze. 

He shook his head the slightest bit. “Nothing, just…glad you’re smiling.” Ah, damn. That tone of voice was so soft and gentle. Why was he so sweet? “After last night, I just–I was still kinda worried, I guess.” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you reassured him, fighting through the heat staining your cheeks. “I promise. I don’t really know why I, y’know, got so…so…y’know.” 

“You sure?” Miguel asked. His gloved fingers tucked some hair behind your ear, fanning the flames hiding under your skin. “Sounded like you were rehearsing somethin’ before I crashed the party.”

You opened your mouth to refute, to argue against him, to run away from the issue at hand and save it for another day because why ruin the mood? But the words wouldn’t come up. Excuses didn’t come to mind, either, but bubbling bravery filled your chest and squared off your shoulders as you held Miguel’s gaze with burgeoning confidence. Maybe you could do this. Maybe you could fucking do this. The scariest part was the first step, just like when you said “yes” when he asked you out that first time. 

You could do this. 

“Yeah,” You managed out. 

You cleared your throat while your mind raced. You could fucking do this.

“I, um, it’s not—it’s not serious-serious, like, it’s nothing, uh…well, maybe it is something game-changing, I don’t really know what you’ll think, but…but yeah, I wanted to talk to you about…stuff? An important stuff–thing. Something important. To me.”

Miguel’s expression glowed with fond amusement, and he nodded, turning his attention to you squarely and resting his arm on the countertop. “Alright. Shoot. Important-thing me.” 

You nodded and took a few seconds to collect yourself. “Okay. Alright. Yeah, I got this. I’ll, uh, just get on with it. But I need this first,” you said before snatching the free hand off Miguel’s lap and holding it, fiddling with his thick, strong, gloved digits and making those claws pop in and out; he was the best fidget spinner, turns out. 

“Okay. So, uh. I don’t really know how to start, so this might be bumpy, but bare with me.” You glanced to the side in thought for a moment, and took a deep breath before ranting. “I just—I feel like I’m kind of…in limbo.”

Miguel raised his brows. “Limbo?”

“Yeah. But, like, not in a bad way? I just–it’s just something that’s me, I guess?” Your brows furrowed, wondering if you were confusing him too much with your vagueness. “When you call me a woman, it doesn’t feel–I mean, it’s not wrong, it’s just not the whole story. The whole truth. 

“It’s like being caught in the middle of, uh, man and woman, but being neither at the same time? I don’t–I think I’m still figuring it all out, but I don’t feel like I’m just your woman.” You looked up from Miguel’s hand and caught his patient gaze. Your face heated to a sporty, cherry red when he stayed silent. “I–maybe this was a bad time, sorry, you–”

“Ah-ah, no no no, don’t–don’t shut me out, mi amor,” Miguel rushed to say as he slipped his arm from the counter and held your one hand with both of his. “I have all the time in the world for you, alright?”

You pursed your lips and nodded. “Yeah, of course! Totally, yeah, okay.” 

Miguel chuckled and shook his head, too smitten with you and your antics. “But, alright, let me get this right, make sure I’m understanding things–you’re not necessarily wholly a woman, not wholly a man, somewhere in the middle, but nowhere on that scale at the same time?” 

Death coiled in your gut as embarrassment killed your will to go on. “...Yeah, wow, that sounds pretty stupid in hindsight.” 

“Ay, stop it,” your partner scolded. “It makes sense. I’m serious, I get what you’re saying.” 

“I don’t even know if I know what I’m saying, Miggs,” you sighed. 

“What I’m hearing is that you,” he started, reaching one hand over to tilt your chin up and meet his eyes, “are just you.” His scarlet eyes scanned over your features, admiring his beautiful girl–no, his beautiful partner, the one he was lucky enough to wake up with every morning, and go to sleep beside every night. “Undefined. Not one way or the other. Unlike the rest. Just perfectly you, yeah?” 

Your shoulders relaxed. “Just me,” you repeated quietly. That anxious half-smile bloomed into an honest, content look. “That’s a pretty good way to sum it up, yeah. I’m just me.” 

“And I love ‘just you.’ You know that, right?” He kissed the back of your hand when you laughed and nodded, tears nowhere to be found this time. “Good. So, should I call you something else? Not ‘girlfriend’ or anything?” 

“I think I’m okay with it, I just–I don’t know, I’m happy with ‘she’ as long as you know I’m kind of a ‘they,’ too. If that tracks.” 

“Tracks with me.”

“Alright. Good. Cool. I’ll, uh, let you know if I change my mind?”

“You better,” Miguel huffed. “I don’t want you to cry again–”

“Miguel O’hara,” you scolded, pinching his hand through the suit. “That was so embarrassing–don’t ever ever mention it again, okay? I was in a state last night and I’m trying real hard to pretend it never happened.” 

“Oh, wow, ah-huh. Maybe we should rewrite that night then, hey?” His mischievous smirk perked your intrigue. 

“Oh. Oh. Yeah. I think I’d like that.” You wiggled in your seat, that chaotic mix of old nerves and new excitement making you a fidgety mess of energy. “Right now? Wait, don’t you have work–”

“Eh, they’ll survive,” he said before getting up and scooping you into his arms easily. “Sure they can manage without me for an hour.”

“An hour? What, are we gonna watch a movie after?” Miguel looked at you, eyes so full of embarrassment and betrayal. You tried not to laugh. “I’m just saying. Based on precedent…” 

“I’ll never talk about you crying during sex if you never talk about me cumming too fast that one time.” 

“Pft. One time–” 

“Okay, alright, now you’re really gonna get it, you and that smart mouth of yours.” 

Memories of last night’s heartache and shame crumbled away as he held you, and threw you onto the bed with a smug smirk. Those dark remnants that once encased your heart fluttered away with the exorcism of sharing your aching truth with Miguel, with the sanctity of his unwavering love for you, his family, his partner for life. 

Miguel loved you. You loved him. It really was that simple. 

[sophieswundergarten]

WAIT

It's Floorboard Chomping Friday!!!

Here (in no particular order) are some of my all-time favourites!!

"Some Choice Words" by @mysteriouseggsbenedict

Choice Tags: angry nicholas benedict, he yells in all caps!!, everyone say it with me: curtain sucks!!

"A collection of records, regarding Ms. Dipika Perumal and one missing child" by @3584-tropical-fish

Choice Tags: Epistolary, Missing Persons, technically that is true but we the audience know where he is, Mentioned Reynie Muldoon - Freeform

"Nicholas Benedict's Home For Misfits" by @fandom-queen-13

Choice Tags: there is a fight scene, and a description of two lab escapees, three if you include Milligan, look it's not my fault he just appeared one day and even he doesn't know if he's an escapee or not, SQ shows up briefly at the end

"of scarecrows, sunshine, and curses" by @mashpotatoequeen

Choice Tags: Kate Wetherall Needs a Hug, Milligan also needs a hug, Milligan was described as a scarecrow in the first book, i take this concept and complete a 400 meter sprint with it, the ten man are tinmen, i think I am funny

"Treat Them With(out) Mercy" by @nobodysdaydreams

Choice Tags: Electrocution, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemy Caregiver, Whumptober 2023, no.4 Shock

"Chirps of a Bird" by @heyitsthatonesmolgay

Choice Tags: Echolalia, Stimming, Family Fluff

"Skin Hunger" by @mvshortcut

Choice Tags: Touch-Starved Nicholas Benedict, Touch-Starvation, Platonic Cuddling, Spells & Enchantments, read the notes for some warnings please!

"you're going too fast, you'll burn up soon" by @oflightningandstars

Choice Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Kate is having a rough time in this one, I love when Kate is happy and doing well I promise, I just also enjoy putting her in the blender

"the lightest touch" by @bi-demon-ium

Choice Tags: Mr. Benedict-centricas is the norm for me <3, Touch-Starved Nicholas Benedict, very non graphic mention of car accident, no one we care about, mr benedict is kind of an unreliable narrator when it comes to himself, Found Family, Nicholas Benedict Needs a Hug, NO. SERIOUSLY. HE REALLY REALLY NEEDS A HUG, SOMEONE PLEASE GIVE HIM A HUG IM BEGGING Y

"Food for Thought" by @phtalogreenpoison

Choice Tags: there is mention of a knife, Friendship, Father Figures, I am promoting the Milligan is like a second dad to Number Two agenda, also I headcanon Number Two is 27 ish and Milligan is like mid forties

"The Psychic File" by @acollectionofcuriousreblogs

Choice Tags: Found Family, Reynie needs a break, Just let him rest, Ledroptha Curtain is a jerk, What if the good guys didn’t win?, cause the world needs more of these types of fics, Takes place after book three as a Riddle of ages replacement

"here's to (never) growing up" by @binnudacademy

Choice Tags: the old hag, Nightmares, is apparently the only tag AO3 officially has? boo, Reynie Muldoon Needs a Hug, Sticky Washington Needs A Hug, Constance contraire needs a hug

"are you sick of me? would you like to be?"

Choice Tags: Reynie Muldoon-centric, placed in the year between season 1 and 2, Light Angst, we are safe here, made for a light read, no ship focus, read this however you'd like to, 5+1 Things

"Wrapped around her little finger"

Choice Tags: Mirror fic, This is so sad everyone, But also super adorable, show! Constance as a two year old, Being adorable, Mr. Benedict being equally adorable with Constance, Alice in wonderland is my favorite book but I also think Mr. Benedict would really enjoy it, And Constance because theres no rules there, He loves her so immediately, I love how much he loves her, Constance pulling on his beard is my favorite

[darkhorse-javert]

Fluff-tober Day 20 (alternate);Fandom Crossover

A crossover that popped into my head the very first time i watched Foyle's War episode 'Invasion'.

To Americans, forgive me for playing a little fast and loose with the timline, I know War Artists weren't a thing until 1943, but the idea is too good to pass up.

Not a shipping fic between the leadscpurely friendship- Andrew will get a mention if I extend this. @flufftober

March 1942

“Yeah, like broads in uniform.” The fresh, pushy young man who'd been at the station said, as though the whole thing was a great farce

Sam barely has time to register the words being spoken, before another American voice snapped across the room

“Oi, you shut it Farnetti! Ladies present!” The speakeris just in front of her, springing to his feet with the force of his words. Then just as quickly, the skinny man quickly dips his head in apology to Mr Foyle and sits back down in his seat.

“Well -yes- “ Mr Foyle carries on in his his talk with only the lightest of stumbles, given the gravity of the interruption. Rather than listening Sam instead took time to study her self-appointed defender. His chest was heaving up and down, and it wasn't just anger making it so, she could hear an odd rattling and wheeze with each breath. And he really was skinny, not just thin, there was no breadth to the body under the uniform jacket, it looked two sizes too big on him- at the very least.

She didn't know anything of the American Military requirements for their men, but looking across the rows of green-khaki backs, this man stood out like a sore thumb physically. I don't like the sound of that breathing, and I' not even officially trained, surely he wouldn't have passed a medical to be a soldier.

Not that, Samnotes as the young man promptly tensed to spring at another apparently crude remark from 'Farnetti', he lacks any of the necessary courage for a fight.

Everyone applauds Mr Foyle, then the gathering begins to splinter, some of the men putting chairs away, others making quick steps towards the next room, with their apparent friends.

The young skinny man shook his head, apparently at the world and turned in his seat, giving her a bashful but sweet smile

“Miss, I apologise for those comments from the other men- some of them haven't the manners they were born with.” He holds out a hand over the back of the chair

“Steven Rogers, although I go by Steve.”

She shakes it warmly, and manners too “Samantha Stewart”

He glances along the room “There's a spread of food in the next hall, if you are hungry.

She tries not to immediate look over in the direction, but is pretty sure her eyes give her away “I am rather hungry.”

Rogers – Steve- rises from his chair and makes an effort to move it the little way to the wall, out of the way. As she stands and does the same it merely confirms what she was already guessing. The young man is even shorter than her, shorter even than she'd be in her socks.

He doesn't appear to notice, or at least doesn't remark on her expression, instead taking a few steps across the room, before turning back to her,

“It's just through here.”

He sets off at a brisk pace, but she shortens her stride to keep with him, not accidentally overtake and make him hurry further. At least she does until she sees the table, absolutely laden with things. She stops, looking back and forth along the spread of food.

There's a soft, but not unkind chuckle at her elbow, and looks down to a warm smile, “Rather more than you're used to in Blighty?”

“Rather.” I want to try it all, but where to even start? I'm not sure I even recognise some of it

He steps forward again, “Grab a plate and fill up before the other greedy mugs get near, or it will be crumbs, just start at one end and pick things until you get to the other, Miss Stewart.”

Has Mr Foyle seen this? She looks around for him, spots him in conversation with the American Captain, Keiffer, apparently being shown something in a leather wallet. She follows Steve Roger's- lead, collecting a plate and a fork from the stacks, looking and listening as he sotto-voce, identifies some of the dishes for her; baloney, hamburger.

“If you don't mind me asking-” she asks between mouthfuls of food as they stand in a corner eating “You don't look much like a soldier.” She slightly gestures with her fork at the others around them.

Rogers doesn't take offence, or doesn't seem to, “I'm not -failed my medical three times when I tried, even under false names.” He shifts his fork to his plate hand and reaches up to touch his ear, which, Sam only now notices, has a pencil tucked behind it, and stands more stiffly “Steven G. Rogers, Official United States War Artist, now attached to the Engineer Battalion posted in Southern England.” He eases his posture, then dips in his pocket “Oh, here. “ He brings out a square of paper

Sam takes it and unfolds it to reveal Mr Foyle, mid flow in his speech, as captured on paper. She looks between the drawing and the artist.

“Only a rough sketch for now.” He says abashedly, not quite looking at her, “I could do better with more time.”-

----

A/N I might actually start a whole series based on this idea of ., let me know if you'd like it. Pic done by me in Word using a screen cap and the 'Photocopy' picture setting, gives you an idea.