#and now a teeny tiny little cough | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 11 months

Note

hi jade! can I make a request for kbd au, maybe one of the girls gets sick or is in the hospital and Steve and r trying to take care of her and the other girls but are worried themselves. pls ignore if you don’t like this love your writing:)))

ty for requesting! ily i hope this is ok ♡ kisses before dinner —you and beth spend some time in the hospital. mom!reader, 1.5k

“Mom?”

“Yeah?”

Bethie looks up in your lap with red-rimmed eyes, her eyelids puffy. They look so sore. You bring your hand up to touch her cheek.

“When's everyone coming back?”

You lean back in her hospital bed and pull her against your chest. “Soon, baby. So soon. Are you missing everyone?”

“Yeah. Avery said, um, that she would let me,” —she rubs her little nose into your collar— “sleep in her bed with her when I go home.”

Bethie will be sleeping in your bed for a while so you can keep an eye on her, but you let her believe it because she sounds very eager.

For now, you aren't sure when she'll be going home, but certainly not tonight. She's having trouble breathing at night, and her skin warms yours with the intensity of a space heater. “You're not enjoying our big sleepover?” you ask. Four days and counting, you've slept here every night in chairs slumped over her lap or briefly in the foldout cot beside her.

She was too sick to remember the first two days, but now she's getting better she's realised you're doing something strange together, and she may be poorly, but she seems particularly pleased to have your undivided attention. “I love it!” she says in a rush, prompting a wracking cough into your shirt. You rub her back. “Sorry.”

“If you need to cough, you do it, baby.” You bring a tissue up to her mouth and clean away the spittle. “Don't be sorry. Cough all over me.”

You hold her close. You didn't need Steve to tell you to take care of her to do it, but you can't get the memory of the run up to Beth's hospital stay out of your head.

I think– I think we need to take her to Urgent Care. His sickly terror, but his surety, too. Steve was gonna make whatever decision he needed to and you couldn't have stopped him (and wouldn't want to). By the time you called Robin to watch the others, your girl getting sicker and sicker, Beth couldn't keep her eyes open.

Not you nor Steve nor Beth made it home that night. Steve, squinting with a migraine, had relented in the early morning. You'll stay and I'll go home, he'd said. You wouldn't call it selfish to want to be the one to stay, but it was selfless of him to volunteer to go home. He hasn't once asked you to leave her side. So you look after her for me, too. You have to do double.

“Here, my love,” you murmur, bringing a sippy cup to her lips. Doesn't matter that she's too old for it. “It's just juice, don't worry. No more medicine.”

“I miss daddy,” she says, pushing the cup away.

“I know. He should be here any minute now, yeah? And when he comes he's going to be all worried and bossy about how you're feeling, so let's drink this juice. It'll make your voice less crackly.”

“Is it crackly?” she asks, surprised.

“Yeah, babe,” you say with a laugh, “it's like crunchy sugar, you can't hear it?”

“What?” she asks, giggling between little coughs.

You hold her cup to her lips. She values her father's esteem for you, drinking her juice and settling back into your arms just in time for him to arrive. He has yet to be mad at you during this time, but you're sure he'd threaten violence if Bethie wasn't getting all the attention and care that could possibly be given. The first thing he says is, “Hello, my girl, how are you feeling today?”

You try not to rush her out of your arms and into his, but he has company. Steve picks Bethie up from your arms with the same slow hesitance he'd hold a newborn, his lips quick to the top of her head. “Sweetheart,” he says softly, “hello,” before he goes completely silent.

Robin stands behind him with your teeny tiny baby held in her car carrier with both hands, and Avery and Dove toddle in front of them with matching grins. You slink off of the bed and crouch down, nearly knocked on your butt as they rush you.

“I missed you! I missed you so much!” you shower their cheeks with kisses before pulling them in for hugs. Over their heads, you give Robin your best smile. “How's she doing?”

“She misses you. Or she hates me. Either or.”

“You're the best friend in the entire world.” You close your eyes into the cuddling. “She loves you.”

Steve sits down on the side of the bed and rubs Bethie's back, all but covering the short breadth of it with spread fingers stroking up and down. “You look better today,” he says. He speaks softly. You have to strain to understand him. “Did mommy give you a shower? You look sparkly clean.”

Bethie curls into him.

“I missed you,” he says. “I miss you every second you're not home, I can't wait for you to come home.” He looks up at you. You shake your head gently. “But how about this hospital bed, huh? This looks comfy. Can I lie down?”

Steve lays down in the bed with Beth against his chest. He looks super tired, his eyes wrinkled in the corners and his jaw set in pain. Bethie rises up to squish her cheek against his. Steve makes a kiss sound. “Aw, Beth. Love you.”

Dove wants to be on the bed —this is a vaguely new place to her and she's a toddler. She whines until you lift her up, while Robin puts Wren's car seat in a vinyl chair and sets about unclicking her straps.

“Is she feeling better?” Avery asks, holding up her hands.

You walk into her outstretched arms. “She is. Not one hundred percent better, but better. She just needs to stay a little bit longer.”

“How long?”

“What did the doctor say this morning, Beth?” you ask with a smile. “Just one more night for checks. Then hopefully tomorrow we can all go home.”

It takes a while to get everyone settled. Robin sits in one of the chairs and you the other, Wren placed in her car carrier to your left. Avery climbs into your lap, and you find no reason to dissuade her from sprawling backwards, her head under your chin. Steve hugs Beth with a palpable relief about him, though he holds Dove's hand when the smaller girl insists. It's surprisingly peaceful. There's nothing to do but wait for your girl to get better.

“I missed you,” Steve says again, Beth hanging on his every word, “I can't remember the last time you spent so long away from home. Are you and mommy having a good time?”

“My–” Beth struggles for words, her chest giving a weak wheeze, “my voice is funny.”

“You think so?” He brings his legs up, eyes closing as Beth does the same. “Sounds the same to me.”

You can't miss the way he's hugging her. You've never seen him so relieved. It lingers in his every touch, every word he says, even as he makes his silly jokes.

Steve spends at least ten minutes like that laying with them before he looks up. “Ave, you still need the bathroom?”

Avery jolts. “Thanks for reminding me!” She springs up on her feet. “Mom, will you come with me?”

“Sure I will.” You stand with her, giving Wren a quick glance over before sidling up to the side of the bed. Steve looks up at you funny. “Steve?”

“What?”

You lean down to his ear. “Honey, will you stay with Beth tonight? Just so I can see the baby? I can't stand being away from Beth when she's sick, but I'm really worrying about her,” you whisper.

Steve's eyes widen. “Are you sure?”

He's not stupid. He knows what you're doing.

You nod quickly. You could say a lot of things to him —of course I'm sure, you should've stayed two days ago, you've been so good letting me be here with her— but Avery tugs on your hand, winging, and you only have time to touch Beth's back. She'll be in good hands.

Beth is upset to see you go that night, but she missed her dad. Steve hugs each of the girls in turn while Beth lays tucked in bed, even Robin, who laughs and complains about his touchiness and how it gets worse every year. You wait with them in your coat for your turn, sick to your stomach.

“I'll call you before nine,” he promises, squeezing you tightly. “You did such a good job, Y/N.”

“...What, no joke about leaving it to the pro?”

“I'm being thoughtful.” Steve kisses you, hugs you again, kisses you a second time. He can't decide what he's doing. “I love you. I'll see you in the morning.”

You kiss his cheek. It takes you another fifteen minutes to leave, busy making Bethie promises. I'll see you tomorrow, I love you so much, brave girl, your dad's gonna take the best best best care of you ever. And then we're gonna spend the next week in bed so we can stop missing each other so much.

641 notes · View notes

benedictscanvas · 7 months

Text

bluebells - remus lupin x reader

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

word count: 0.8k

a/n: i just keep thinking of teeny tiny remus concepts and i have to write them every time. thought it would be fun to do another in the recent universe (1, 2 & 3) from sirius' perspective. this is quite unedited, but i'll have a check on it tomorrow. enjoy sunflowers <3

---

“Do you have a secret admirer you haven’t told us about?” Sirius asks, as innocently as he can.

The question has Remus sitting up a little straighter on the stool in your kitchen, just as he intended. Remus may never have spoken to him about his feelings for you, by some miracle, but they were plain as day to anyone with a brain cell between their ears. Sirius was fairly sure you were equally enamoured - but you were harder to read than his precious Moony.

“What are you on about now?” you laughed, able to shrug off the question easily. Sirius sidled up to the tiny vase of flowers that sat on the granite countertop, filled with imperfect bluebells that didn’t look shop-bought.

“Only the very pretty bouquet in your kitchen that someone has clearly picked for you,” he practically purrs, “And don’t try to convince me you picked them yourself, doll, because I know for a fact you haven’t been walking in the woods.”

That only makes you laugh harder, and Sirius knows he’s got you. He’s hoping you’re about to praise whoever picked you those flowers and Remus will get sufficiently jealous to snog you senseless or something. Sirius hasn’t figured out his full match-making plan yet, admittedly.

“Obviously, I didn’t pick them,” you agree, glancing with obvious shyness towards Remus, who already has telltale pink cheeks, “Remus is the one doing all the woodland walking in this group. He is sometimes kind enough to fill my teeny tiny vase for me.”

And Sirius just gapes at you. Then at Remus. He can’t help it, because whatever he was trying to achieve, it is utter madness that Remus himself could be the one to pick you flowers and still neither of you could move past a more than friendly friendship.

Remus is glaring at him now, because he’s clearly been gaping so long that he’s made the whole atmosphere awkward. You turn your attention back to making cups of tea, but Sirius sees the way you fluster. He’s made it weird. He was trying to make it a bit weird, yes, but not like this.

“Sorry, I had to take a second there,” he said, through a half chuckle, “Just struggling with the idea that Moony is bringing you flowers and he’s never once thought to bring some for me?”

Sirius is just charming enough to get away with it. Remus softens, his glare now holding far less scorn and you throw him a smile over your shoulder as you get the milk out of the fridge.

“He likes me better,” you argue playfully, sticking your tongue out at him. Just like that, all awkwardness is gone and replaced by the almost flirting thing the two of you do that drives Sirius mad - he wants to tell you both to give your heads a wobble.

“I can give you the leftovers if you like, Pads,” Remus chimes in, “But I’m afraid the finest flowers are already reserved.”

And Sirius watches Remus smile at you like you’re the sun and moon and all the stars combined, and it melts his heart a little. Who is he to rush you? You grin back at Remus like there’s a secret to be shared.

But of course, Sirius must keep up the facade and so he grunts in annoyance.

“I see how it is. Fifty years of friendship and look where it gets me,” he grumbles, “Pretty sure picking flowers is objectively wrong, too.”

“Drama queen,” you say through a cough, then adopt an instant wide-eyed innocent look when Sirius rounds his glare on you.

“Fifty years? We’re in our twenties Sirius.”

“Friendship like ours defies the laws of nature, honey,” Sirius smirks, and Remus’ nose wrinkles.

“And if you pick flowers in moderation, it can actually benefit their conservation,” you say, placing the three cups of tea on the table and waving Remus over from the island stool to sit with you and Sirius, “So drink your tea and stop whinging, Sirius.”

He gasps in mock offence and then pretends to burn his tongue on the tea, just to see you and Remus roll your eyes at him together. When Remus sits down, he thanks you for the tea under his breath and you smile your brightest at him, squeezing his elbow as you hurry away to get the biscuit tin.

Sirius takes another look at Remus’ lovestruck face even though all you did was touch his elbow. He’s not sure whether it’s cute or slightly sickening, but he glances at the pretty shitty bluebell bouquet on the table again and decides that if the two of you are happy as you are, he won’t try to interfere again.

(it lasts all of thirty seconds, because the two of you gang up on him about biscuit choice as soon as you sit down with the tin, and Sirius immediately decides it’ll be worth it to fluster the two of you, if only for his own amusement)

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus x reader #remus lupin fanfiction #marauders x reader

308 notes · View notes

mahg-stuff · 9 months

Text

Sunup Hues - a bd!elvis b-day special!

⸻

AN: Hello loves! I decided to give ya'll a late bde birthday special! 'Sunup Hues’. I got this idea very, very early in the morning due to tossing and turning in bed all night. I'm not sure why but the idea of a moody volatile elvis on his birthday morning intrigued me! He's bit of a man in this drabble which I *caugh, cough* am weak for sometimes. I definitely captured some of 'his doll' essence in here although I did not intend for but, my fingers just typed away. Okay! Excuse my yapping, enjoy my darlings!

- also, tysm to every one of you loves who enjoyed and rb 'bitty'! ♡

Now enjoy! & pls excuse any errors! 🫶🏻

- a drabble so 1-2k words?! Summary: He had all kinds of sides, you never knew which one you'd get, but either way, you were content, tending to whatever one he gave you. Like a chameleon, he was constantly quick to shift hues. Pairing: bd!elvis x afab!reader Warning’s: I'll be presenting you a moody/capricious!elvis, mention of elvis' pill use and sleep issues, e sorta having an ego and being assertive towards reader, fluff!!, pet names, age gap (not implied), bby talk, just kissing and cuddles here, use of word daddy (only once), power dynamics

You'd woken up early this morning, excited to celebrate his day. You felt the warmth of his body next to you and heard the soft snores he let out. Lifting your head a tiny bit to peek over at him, to your surprise, he was in a peaceful slumber. You admired him for a bit, your eyes going from sunken ones to his pillowy lips that were a bit agape. You smiled to yourself, you liked seeing him in this unconventional form.

Elvis had asked everyone beforehand not to pay him a visit today, he'd told them they could just come by the following day. Besides you, naturally, he'd always asserted that you were his little angel and felt at peace when you were by his side.

Since you first started dating you'd noticed how his moods were constantly fluctuating. Whether he’d been too pilled up or hadn't had enough sleep, which was less and less these days, you had gotten familiar with his behaviors and how quickly they could change. You had observed yesterday that, following his late show, he appeared very worn out and lethargic.

So, of course you were debating whether or not to wake him up, and as you thought about it, you recalled that he had mentioned how much fun you two would have at Graceland. He’d promised you to go golf cart riding together out back and, overall, just have a lovely time together all day in Graceland.

You'd even heard him mumble to himself, "Just like old times," with a smile but bleak eyes.

Given that he had sounded upbeat (to you) about his plans for the day before, that darling little mind of yours decided it would be best to wake him.

You pulled the comfy covers off your body, sitting up on your knees in your frilly underpants to face him. You beamed at his sleeping form, some of his wiry chest hair peeking out of his silk pajama button-up.

“El.” You whisper as you leaned over and lightly tugged at his shirt.

You were sure to be gentle, it troubled you a tiny bit, waking him up when you'd known he didn't get much rest. You pause for a moment and back away from him, you sit there in your frilly bottoms and teeny tank, nibbling away at your finger.

"El." Mumbled this time.

He groaned and rolled over, burying his face into a pillow.

"Can't uh man get some sleep 'round here?" he mutters, his mood evident in his tone.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and reluctantly rolls back on his back, not bothering to hide his annoyance at being woken up. You sat there wide-eyed and began to speak softly, but he cut you off.

"Goddamn, honey, you should know not ta wake me up when ah am finally gettin’ rest.” He says this to you vigorously as his eyes narrowed at you.

You moved around the bedsheet's to get closer.

"But El, you said- said we’d spend time together and have a good time for your special day.”

You replied with furrowed brows, sounding like a child.

He takes notice of your contorted face.

“Mm, don’t do that now, it’ll start wrinklin’.”

He nudges you, and you relax your face quickly.

"Ain't fittin' for uh girl like you." He continues.

You frowned when realizing this wasn’t how you'd thought it out to be in your head. As you contemplated your disappointment, he seemed to hone in on your expression.

"What's wida frown, doll? Ah was the one who was woken up," he remarked with an emotionless expression.

“Now would ya lay back down, an’ quit frownin’ lil girl.”

He motions at you, and you bring your hand up to your lips to quite literally wipe that frown off your face.

You lie back down next to him as he brings his arm around you.

“Should be smilin’ your little ass off just ta be lyin’ next to me.” He mumbled more to himself than to you.

"Now hush up button." He said as he pulled you closer to him.

You'd become accustomed to playing the role of complying with his temperaments, always there to fulfill his every whim.

Every now and then, you’d catch a glimpse of his nurturing side. It's in the little things, like the way he’d brush your hair out of your face or sit you on his lap to read to you. Despite his demanding nature at times, you can't deny that he has brought out a different side in you as well, a softer, more vulnerable side that craves his affection and attention like never before.

His standards had grown on you, and you found yourself bending over backward to please him. It became a cycle of highs and lows, but through it all, you couldn't help but be drawn by his boyish and kiddish side. His playful antics and mischievous grin would always light up the room, reminding you of the carefree joy of childhood. And while his demands could be exhausting, you knew deep down that he just wanted someone to join him in his world, to share in the imagination and wonder that seemed to guide his every move. So you embraced all sides of him, knowing that within this distinctive combination lay a love that was both different and comforting. Well at least to you.

You snuggled against his hefty, soft frame, still a bit dismayed at things not going the way you intended.

Resting your head on his squishy midsection, you felt the warmth of him, you could hear him mumbling his ear off, so you peaked back up at him from your spot. As you looked up, you saw him reading his Bible, his weary eyes scanning the pages with utter concentration. The gentle rustling of the pages and the peaceful atmosphere he was now creating making you ease, this was his escape, his source of solace.

You always enjoyed watching him immerse himself in his faith, the way he’d look, reminding you he still had a little boy inside of him. The weight of his earlier whims and discontent now seemed to fade away in the presence of this shared moment of serenity. You rested against his belly again and relaxed as you heard him sluggishly voice the words of God.

As he continued reading, he took a glance down at you, his sweet girl, whom he'd just denied. He couldn't help but feel a pang of regret as he saw you resting against him, listening to his words of faith. The words on the pages seemed to blur as guilt started to gnaw at him all of a sudden. How could he have been so selfish toward his little angel? He thought. The excitement he saw in those pretty doe eyes of hers quickly dissipating back when he'd used a tone with her kept replaying in his head now.

He looked at the back of your head, facing him, as you rested your cheek on his gut and held him with one arm. This sight of you quickly shifted his mood, as he couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth. The contrasting emotions within him, like the bicolor markings on his soul, made it hard for him to keep a steady emotional state.

“Doll, A-Ah know ah made couple uh bargains last nighta, but man, am… am gettin’ old button. Can’t quite keep up wit’ a young girl like yuhself sometimes." He blurted impulsively with a bit of humor.

You mildly smiled to yourself, your mood lifted ever so slightly, hearing his voice shift behind you.

“El, y-you talk like you’ve turned eighty or something.” You said it almost below a whisper as you fiddled with the opening of his pajama shirt.

As you went on fiddling, his snickering filled your ears. The slightest lines on his face deepened as he grinned to himself, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of love for this man.

“The way ah’v lived, seems like ah have.” He grumbled as he looked away.

You kept still and quiet as you snuggled deeper into him. The movement caused him to look back down at the back of your pretty, hair-filled head. There was a moment of silence, and all that could be heard were your soft breaths and the birds chirping outside.

“Hey ther ma little cherub, was u-uh lil harsh on ya, huh." He cooed softly as you continued to rest your head on his upper belly.

“Her's was only tryna spend time with ‘er good ol' daddy on, on his ‘pecial day." He continued as he petted your hair, causing you to sigh with contentment, you unwind more as you also listened to the sound of his gold cuban bracelet swishing around his wrist.

He gently wrapped his longsome-fingered hand around your cheek to bring you up closer to look at him. He smiled, but you still saw that tiredness in those precious blue eyes, the back of your mind mentally cursing at you.

You couldn't help but feel culpable about waking him up so soon on his day.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice filled with remorse.

He shook his head gently, his hand still cupping your cheek.

"No, no needa ‘pologize, angel," he said, his voice baritoned.

"It's not yur fault," he reassured you, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

“I would do anythin' for ya, even if it means sacrificin' a little rest on ma birday."

His words melted away the guilt—barely, bringing a weak smile to your pouty lips for him. He leaned in and gently pushed you on your back, he moved from his position and hovered over you as he now lay between your sprawled legs. You felt the pudnginess of his belly press against you as he shifted his weight, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin fabric of your tiny tank.

His hands traveled to one of the straps of your shirt and toyed around with it.

“She's hasn't wished em happy birthday." He spoke kiddishly with pursed lips.

You giggled lightly, your fingers now tracing circles on his supple warm chest.

“Happiest birthday to you, El." You voiced softly, as you brought your hand up to his chubby cheek. You leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his pillowy lips as a gentle smile spread across his face.

"Sweet as ever, button'," he drawled as you met with his disoriented gaze. You wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him fully down to you, his face barried into your neck and his body fully covering yours.

As you both held each other, enjoying one another's embrace, you felt his hand slowly trailing down your back, reaching for your rear. You could feel the heaviness of his touch through the fabric of your frilly bottoms.

His Southern voice rumbled softly in your ear as he murmured, "Ain't nothin' sweeter than findin' my birday cake right heer in ma arms."

You let out a light giggle at his remark as you felt your face heat up at his groping.

“Oh, you." You mumbled as your face pressed against his silk pajama top, snuggling closer at the comforting warmth radiating off his pudgy chest.

• Master List

₊ ⊹ Taglist: @fallinlovewithurlove @presleyenterprise @doll-elvis @j-v-9-2 @myradiaz @codalysssssworld @caitskywalker14 @claire-elvisgirl @jaqueline19997 @ash-omalley @spooky-hazex @presleysweetheart @littlehoneyposts @dkayfixates

₊ ⊹ Get added to Taglist for future stories here. ♡

233 notes · View notes

torukmaktoskxawng · 9 months

Note

hi, I was wondering if you could do a part to your grace lives au that’s like right after the first movie and it’s her finding out she pregnant and the aftermath of the war. No pressure of course, I would just love to see you take on what happened.😊

(Guys fr there need to be more Grace gifs)

At first, Dr. Augustine is in denial.

She noticed the signs in her body but stubbornly ignored them since it was scientifically impossible for her to be pregnant. Since she wasn't physically showing, she was able to ignore it for a long time, juggling her work, the Na'vi, and the one-year-old human boy she recently adopted. It wasn't like she could trust any of the idiot scientists who worked for her to raise a child, so she "begrudgingly" became the baby's mother.

Since Spider wasn't big enough to fit into a breathing mask, Grace had spent the majority of her days squished inside the small rooms of Hell's Gate, doing her best to raise him while also trying to continue her work. Now that she didn't have any RDA pigs breathing down her neck and monitoring all her research, she thought she'd have all the time in the world to do whatever she wanted. That is, until Spider.

It happened on one of the rare occasions Mo'at had stopped by the compound to see her old friend. The tsahik of the Omatikaya was more than happy to sit cross-legged on the ground of the lab to keep Spider company while Grace did her work. The scientist thought she'd be able to get stuff done with Mo'at keeping an eye on her son, but she was wrong.

"How long has he been doing that, Kìreysì?"

Grace looked over her shoulder to see what the tsahik meant. Spider was bent over, keeping himself steady on his hands and feet, planted on the floor while he tried peeking his head between his legs, looking up at Grace, and giggling with his cute little toothless grin.

She analyzed her son with a small smile, satisfied that he wasn't in trouble or in danger, then returned to her teeny tiny microscope, "He's been doing that for about a week now."

"Do you understand the significance?"

Grace shrugs, half distracted as she answers, "Well, back on Earth, there was a superstition. Babies who did that were said to be trying to tell their mothers they were pregnant."

Mo'at hums thoughtfully, a smile beginning to grow as she watches the little human baby in front of her continue to giggle between his own chubby legs, "Perhaps we are more alike than we originally thought. The Na'vi believe this superstition as well."

"I don't."

"Why?"

The avatar scoffed with mirth in her tone, "Because that would mean Spider thinks I'm pregnant. And I'm not."

"Are you certain?"

"I haven't been with anyone, Mo'at. It's not possible."

Mo'at rose, but not to her full height in order to avoid colliding her head against the ceiling. She crouched, shuffling her way to Grace, before offering her hands out to the other woman, "May I?"

Grace looks over her shoulder once more, clocking the tsahik reaching out to her and sighs, resigned to this conversation, "Mo'at. There's no need--"

"Indulge me, my friend."

She sighed, defeated, and turned to face the Na'vi woman. Mo'at inspects Grace with methodic, experienced healing hands, poking and prodding along the sides of Grace's breasts, and pulled away when the scientist winced from the tenderness. Mo'at eyes Grace with suspicion before moving her hands down toward the woman's stomach, below her belly button, before huffing with confidence and pulling away.

Fully facing Grace with her conclusion, albeit a bit smug, Mo'at smiled with joy and amusement as she tsked at her old friend, "Kìreysì, you claim to be a woman of practicality and yet you didn't even realize how your body was changing to make room for the life inside you."

Instead of shock, Grace went straight for defiance and denial, "No. I realize that my body is changing. I've known for a while now, but since it's not even remotely possible, I coughed it up to stress. I mean, why wouldn't it be? You know what it's like, right? To work with morons alongside doing your job and raising a child, let alone the two that you raised? Are you telling me you've never felt stressed?"

"If I recall, I went to my mate whenever I felt such stress," Mo'at eyed her with curiosity, "But you're saying you haven't gone to anyone?"

"No," Grace snarled with slight irritation, annoyed with having to repeat herself but kept her emotions semi-in check in Mo'at's presence, peering up at the ceiling to restrain herself from snapping, "I haven't been with anyone in years."

~~~~~~~~~

Despite what Grace did or didn't believe, she finally had to come to terms that she was, in fact, pregnant once her stomach visibly grew and a small fist decided to hit her from the inside. Once she recovered from freaking out over that feeling, she begrudgingly decided to admit to Mo'at she was wrong and then proceeded to let her peers and friends know the news.

"Are you serious?" Norm voiced everyone's initial thoughts, but he was the only one to voice it. Max and the other human scientists were much more afraid of confronting Grace, especially now that she was in her avatar form permanently. Nevertheless, neither Max nor any of the other scientists could hide their shock from her.

Jake, the ever-prominent little shit that he was, scoffed with a small grin, arms crossed in front of him, "So who's the lucky guy?"

Neytiri smacked her mate's arm, bouncing a newlyborn Neteyam in the sling that was strapped to her chest. The sight of her former student now with a baby only reminded Grace she was old and that her situation felt more impossible than before. How can sweet, little Neytiri now be a mother? Where has the time gone?

Despite her love for Neytiri, Grace sneered at the idiot she chose for a mate, "I'm not like you. I don't shack up with the first Na'vi I meet."

Jake loudly choked on his own spit, and despite the crudeness, Neytiri eyed Grace with a small spark of amusement. If there was one person Neytiri could rely on to put her mate in his place, it was Grace.

After Jake recovered, he voiced what everyone else was thinking, "But... then how can you possibly be...?"

"I don't know!" She snaps, swiftly handing Little Spider to Neytiri so she can lay into the jarhead she took under her wing without startling her son, "It's scientifically impossible, Jake! I don't need to have The Talk with you about the birds and the bees now, do I?"

Norm and the other scientists began to cough to hide their laughter under their breaths, especially at the horrified expression on Jake's face.

A/N: Sorry for the long post! I got carried away XD

124 notes · View notes

breakfastteatime · 11 months

Text

(For Whumptober Day 26 - 'Sometimes I get so tired, I don't know myself')

"Hey, hey, you're okay. You're okay, Cal. Take it slow."

Lights and rain blind Cal the moment he opens his eyes. A strange garbled sound emerges from him. What... where...

A shadow leans over, offering relief from the lights and the rain. Who? Master Tapal? Cal blinks the rainwater from his startled eyes, clearing his vision. Oh. Cal's slow brain finally coughs up an identity. It's Prauf. Good thing Cal can't get any words out right now.

Good thing he's too tired to cry. Disappointment knocks the wind out of him.

Prauf looks sad. "I warned you," he says. "They're called death shifts for a reason." There's a big hand resting on Cal's head. "You look awful." Prauf sighs. "Good news though, you made it through."

Death shift. Five days. Minimal breaks. Never leaving the shipyard. Quadruple pay if you see all five days through and remain productive throughout. He'd made it? All those credits were his now. He'd be ahead, just for a little while. He can finally repair his -

Prauf looks over his shoulder. "Hey! I dunno what any of you slackers are staring at, but you better start minding your own business unless you wanna get assigned to septic tank duty!"

Cal pushes himself up. The ship is hazy, the other scrappers patches of blue and orange hustling around him. He feels all heavy and light all in one go. His exhaustion isn't gone, but he feels good enough to get right back to work. Maybe he should. Look, his tools are right there. All he's gotta do is pick... pick... pi -

When Cal misses for the third time, Prauf swipes them up and tucks them on his own belt. "Not a chance, pal, you can't even see straight," he says. "You got a second wind?"

Second... secondy thousand wind? Whatever. Cal nods.

"Great!" Prauf gives him a hearty pat on the back. "Let's use that to get to the train."

"I'm fine," Cal says.

Or not.

"People who are fine can enunciate," Prauf chuckles. "Sorry, but 'mfyn' doesn't pass muster. Besides, the Guild's pretty strict about rest periods after death shifts. Even they've got some limits."

Eyes rolling, Cal plods along with Prauf... plods into Prauf... all the way back to the train. Plenty of people stare at him on the station. Cal weaves on his feet, Prauf poking him back into place every now and then. People stare more. Are they waiting for him to fall? (Again?) Not too many people can pull off a death shift, especially not teeny tiny Humans, and word got around that Cal was on one (he asked for it, and he'll never complain about a mere hell shift ever again). Maybe they think he failed. Hah, he'll show them on payday. He's gonna get the best meal down at the Sparkplug and -

The train pulls in. Cal nearly falls over as it screeches by. Prauf wraps an arm around him, holding tight. It finally stops, doors sliding open, workers spewing out from its greasy innards.

Everyone about to board their carriage waits.

Prauf nudges him. "Death shift survivors always get to go first."

Cal boards the carriage, finds himself a chair next to a support beam and falls into it. Everyone else follows, the carriage filling with the stench of rain soaked bodies. He can feel the prickly prickles of eyes watching him. He knows - he's an easy target and someone's going to take the opportunity to rob him.

Prauf stands in front of him, blocking him from view. "What?" he tells the other scrappers. "You really think you're gonna try something?"

"Hey, it's called a death shift. If the kid can't defend himself, he shouldn't volunteer for 'em."

Cal looks up. Someone is actually trying to square up to Prauf. Cal notes the uniform. Hazmat. Brain's gotta be cooked from all the shit they breathe in all day. 'Cause Prauf is big. Like really big. Like soooooo big. Cal watches him looming over the Hazmat dumbass.

"Try it," Prauf says.

The crowd steps back.

All except one.

"Get tae fuck!" Tabbers. Tabbers is here too. "Youse better leave the boy alone, else you'll be picking your teeth out of my fists!"

"He ain't got any, Tabbers!" someone shouts.

More shouts go out. Then the only people standing in front of Cal are Prauf and Tabbers, and the train is moving, rocking down the tracks and Cal is -

"Such a wee thing to be working like this."

Footsteps. Boots on rain-soaked metal. Cal is... not walking. He opens his eyes. Whoa, the ground is a long way below. Prauf's thrown him over one shoulder. Literally. He watches his arms swinging with every step Prauf takes.

"I tried telling him he didn't need to do it, but wanna know what he said?"

Prauf's voice, rumbling right into Cal's ear.

"I already hate what youse are gonna say to me," Tabbers moans.

"He says 'Might as well be at work instead of sitting doing nothing. Otherwise, it's just laziness.'"

Tabbers' complaints follow Cal down into sleep.

He wakes up again on a sofa brimming with sleepy energy. He knows it so well. He's at Prauf's place. Safe. He opens his eyes and finds a blanket over his head. He fights his way free of the thing (it's four times the size he needs it to be) and emerges into the bleak light of Bracca's dawn. Even that's enough to stab him through both eyes and directly into his aching head.

"Morning!" Prauf calls from his small kitchenette. "You alive?"

Cal grunts.

Prauf laughs. "Not quite regained the power of speech, huh?" He walks over and drops a cup of caf and a bowl of oatmeal on the coffee table. "Get that down you."

Cal doesn't need telling twice. When he emerges, he's even starting to feel alive again.

"You're off-shift until tomorrow," Prauf says. "Your prize for surviving a death shift."

"Okay." Cal doesn't even care that he can't go to work today. He survived a death shift, and he only had a few hallucinations and a couple of accidental naps on his feet while doing it. Maybe he'll make it a yearly thing whenever he could use the extra credits. "Thanks for letting me sleep here."

"You can talk! You didn't break your brain!"

Cal glares at Prauf. Prauf cracks up.

"So, today's my day off too. Whaddya say, wanna head into town and pick up the parts you need for your heater? I'll be happy to help you fix it up."

"Really?"

"Really, kiddo. C'mon, shake a leg."

Sliding off the couch, Cal pulls his boots on. "Thanks, Prauf. For everything."

"Anytime. And Cal?"

His head pops out of his poncho. "Yeah?"

"No more death shifts, alright? Surviving here is all about pacing. Don't wear yourself down to the bone before you're done growing, okay?"

Cal's is a crooked smile. "I'll try."

#star wars jedi: fallen order #jfo headcanon #jfo minific #cal kestis #prauf #bracca #whumptober 2023

77 notes · View notes

mochinon-yah · 5 months

Note

I just realized we all technically have the power to ask any questions on this site, and I never got to doing it. So....

[Points S.E.E.S evoker at you]

Who are the fictional characters you ship your mutuals to? Doesn't have to be necessarily their self-ship. I am deadass curious. Spill the tea, Imbibitor's lover—

We can lower that down, brynn- no need to get all aggressive now-

*cough* ANYWAY!

I'll list them down below, and if they're not accurate or you're actually gonna fight them rather than making out with the characters that i chose then yeah, that is probably my plan 😀 /silly

Oh and! I'll mostly be using genshin and hsr characters because yeah-

@beloved-brynn -> heizou and ratio. NGL, YOU + HEIZOU, OR YOU + RATIO, OR EVEN THE THREE OF YOU WOULD TOTALLY BE SO FUNNY AND CHAOTIC 😭☝️ they can counter your wild statements while also being the (somewhat) saner one but could also say smth wild as well. I could see you and one of em (possibly ratio) be like "oh yeah, the other day, i was eating my lunch while watching that gorey movie-" "what." "yeah, i was hungry at that time, so like why not yk-" (this is based on my real experience guys, guess which dialogue is me lmao)

@meimeimeirin -> hmmmm, koh zhongli maybe? Okay, let me tell you the reason why... it's simply because she NEEDS someone who can pamper her! I don't know where that conclusion came from, but yeah. Anyway, if we're talking about other characters, then i think welt, or even zayne from lnd could fit. Basically: "I need someone older, just a little bit colder." lmao (oh, mochi, did this conclusion came up because you know rin's the youngest in her family and now you ship her with men older (and more experienced) than her? whaatt... ofc not, haha-)

@leftdestiny-posts -> absolutely cannot see them with anyone other than dottore. Cute and kind but is secretly crazy "i want to watch the world burn" x The human version of the word 'crazy' "as you wish, my love" would be their dynamic, i suppose...? WAIT OH! I can actually see shiro with ayato or maybe sunday! I bet they would like such a cute, innocent-looking darling to control, but then they would get so surprised and maybe super interested into trying to control the darling despite how crazy the darling actually is- (shiro ily, if ur crazy then we can be crazy together 💐)

@navxry -> arlechinno, and maybe black swan. Yeah, that's it. No explanation needed.

@jessamine-rose -> hmmm, would it be weird if i say capitano? I don't know why or how did i get to that conclusion, but yeah. And maybe blade? IDK WHY I'M PARTNERING HER WITH CRAY CRAY MEN- SORRY JESS, I (subconsciously) THINK YOU CAN LIKE CALM THEM OR SMTH AJFIAWOF-

@stardust-for-your-soul -> funnily enough, i can see her with aventurine. They'll say sweet words that probably have a double meaning and also probably have a teeny tiny bit (maybe a lot lmao) of 'enemies to lovers' moment. (wow, cherry, your new bf is a gambler- /smack). But anyway, i could also see her be with march 7th who is so bubbly and sweet, and i'd think cherry would love to tease march hehe

@teabutmakeitazure -> ACTUALLY NGL DAN HENG????? He would listen to her ramblings and also help her write her fics. It just sounds so cute in my opinion lol. Other than dan heng (who is obviously the best choice), zuri would probably look into red flag charas, like... yeah, aventurine- but still tho, dan heng! But i get what zuri is thinking tho, red is such a sexy color- /smack

@harmonysanreads -> ngl alhaitham or kaeya would be cute if paired up with her! Idk where did kaeya come from, but when i thought about it, instantly "cute!". I think, harmony has this really 'weird' calming aura that could make those two charas just fell in love with how comfortamble she can make them feel. BUT LIKE IDK THO-

@fishanonishere -> Albedo...... i think? Fish, i know what you are- i mean like as in how chaotic and just how 'what in the world is this person thinking???' you are. With how calming and 'would jump into any interesting topic' he is, i think fish and him could be such a cute duo. Fish's ramblings and their drawings are some of the things that make him really interested in fish

#reli-answers : brynn <3 #LMAO I TRIED MY BEST GUYS #maybe some of this could be seen as platonic ships but think what you want!!!#i just partnered up mutuals with characters i think would fit their vibe or i think would be funny together lol #i hope you guys don't mind me shipping you like this ehehee #AND ALSO #BRYNN I SWEAR #you fit with alhaitham too #but i'm like “nah. this would be too long if i put haitham”#i would ramble more about every ships but i'm afraid it would get too chaotic and too long so i hope this counts as good answer!#and once again #i tried my best uheahkufbajk

39 notes · View notes

angelwoozi · 2 years

Note

hello bb freya!!! hope you are doing well <3 request for a little fluff? woozi having a crush on the reader realizing that he definitely fell harder for you than expected and how he goes about that information? maybe a lil ~confession~ action

forget me not | ljh

pairing ; jihoon x reader

rating / genre ; sfw // friends to lovers, fluff

summary ; your bestfriend has an epiphany, and maybe it's something related to you

wc ; 2.7k

warnings ; swearing, alcohol usage, soonyoungie the wingman

note ; elle this is such a cute request!! thankyou for sending this in! this also me self indulging so bare with me aagh. unedited! i am so late, and also this is very light and cute. also, thankyou @heartkyeom for proofreading this and saving my ass 😭

aw masterlist

Jihoon likes to believe that love doesn't come easily – especially to him, someone who likes to call himself an npc (non playable character) who only talks when he is spoken to.

But maybe in all this he forgot that even if love doesn't come easily, he could fall in love, very easily in fact.

That's how he has fallen for you, and the realization was so strong that he had to step back and contemplate for a whole minute. "Maybe it's not love." "Maybe it's just a crush." "Maybe I am way too lonely." "Maybe I am drunk? – No, I haven't drank." "Maybe I need sleep."

So that's what he had done. He had slept on his feelings that night. But come morning and his mind had started whirring again.

He wonders when did he even fall this hard for you? He always knew he liked you. Like, you've been his friend for so long, there's only so much time he needs to realize his crush for you. But no, this was not a teeny tiny teenage crush. This was a feeling that was crushing his heart and making it grow again whenever he thought about you.

Falling for you has been as easy as falling asleep. And even though sleep doesn't come easily to him, your dreams do, and he cherishes them as if they were the only thing in his possession in the whole world.

He sees you in technicolor, through rose tinted glasses of love. It is soft and dreamy, the way your face lights up whenever you do something you like, the way he can see stars in your eyes whenever you talk about one of your many passions. Long ago he had decided your laughter is his favorite sound. It brings him joy, it brings him comfort. And then he had got to know you more and he had decided everything about you is his favorite.

The curve of your nose and the slightest of your smiles. The eyes which look like they have a vast ocean of knowingness, kindness held in them, your passion and your strong willed nature. Yes, he loves everything about you.

And now he doesn't know what to do. Maybe he should inform you? Just to get the weight off his chest, he thinks.

"It's high time now, Jihoon. What? Are you going to sit here wallowing for your whole life?" Soonyoung speaks up, breaking Jihoon out of his reverie as he stares at him wide eyed.

"You know?"

"That you are in love with Y/N? Dude, everyone and their mother knows this." He laughs and takes a sip from his soju.

"Do they know?" Jihoon gulps as he asks this.

"I don't think so."

Jihoon visibly relaxes at this, but not for long as Soonyoung speaks up again.

"But I think they have an idea. I mean c'mon, you both are completely head over heels for each other. Just kiss and end this depressive episode of yours."

"B-both?" he coughs and sets his drink down, completely blanching at Soonyoung's statement, but also with a blush creeping up his neck.

Do you love him too? Wow. He is a fool for thinking so. Why would you love him?

"Fuck off Soonyoung." he slurs and gulps his glass down.

"You know what? Get your eyesight checked. Or maybe take off these big ass glasses of yours and look.'' Soonyoung says and turns away from Jihoon, sulking in all his drunken glory.

Jihoon rolls his eyes and goes to the balcony, with his unfinished bottle in his hand, and too many thoughts in his mind. What if soonyoung is correct? What if maybe you both should just fess it up to each other? But for one, he would rather be your friend than be nothing to you.

Because what if he gathers the courage to say it to you and you don't feel the same?

Will you break the friendship too?

God. He needed sleep. And some less alcohol in his system to function.

He closes his eyes and breathes in a good amount of the stale air filled with the smoke and stench of the city. Fucking hell, maybe he is ready to fess it up to you.

He actually needed someone to inform him that drunk decisions are not valid. Never. Yet even Soonyoung was an infant who loved buffoonery. And he planned a hangout for the three of you.

The cafe is old, with worn out furniture and scribbled walls. It looks rickety and used, but it's the one which you three used to frequent since the beginning of high school. And now eight years later, you are here again.

Jihoon was a bit caught up in his studio and reached the cafe late, nerves on an all time high.

Should he raincheck? No that would be rude.

He wants to meet you, yes. But what the fuck is Soonyoung up to? The thought of that guy makes him excruciatingly concerned and he almost sprints to the cafe, should he feed you with terrible truths about jihoon's feelings before he could.

That would be so embarassing.

Your head shoots up the moment the door opens and a beautiful smile graces your features when you see an out of breath Jihoon scrambling to reach to your table.

"Did you run a marathon?" you ask and Jihoon wants to say he'd run anything for you, but he stands in front of you instead, with an embarrassed grimace.

"Hello." Idiot. Who is she? A stranger? Why the fuck are you greeting her like that? he thinks.

You don't seem to mind it though, as you scoot inside to make room for him. He settles down gingerly, trying to avoid your eyes. He isn't usually like this, no. But today he has a weird feeling, and he chalks it up to soonyoung looking at him sheepishly.

Can this guy be more obvious?

You are talking about some of the latest changes your boss made at your new workplace, quite ecstatically, but Jihoon can't will his mind to stay in one place. It's racing faster than the wind, thinking about what will happen if he opens up his heart to you. He is also distracted by the way your face lights up and eyes glimmer, the way you look at him as if he has hung up stars in your sky.

Soonyoung chats with you, matching your energy and Jihoon looks at him warily, not able to trust him at all. He wants to go away, go home. Soonyoung keeps on glancing at him with a mischievous glint and he thinks maybe that's enough for the day.

But he knows he can't leave so soon, so he stays. At a point, after your order is served, he thinks you two have inched closer, but he doesn't think much about it – still reveling in the closeness.

He feels like a teenager all over again, especially when your eyes find him each time you laugh. It's like you are sharing a secret laugh with him, and his heart grows a garden of flowers at that, you watering it with your happiness.

He starts talking after a while, and completely misses the fact that he had to stay alert and keep Soonyoung in line. As he finishes up his sandwich, he realizes his mistake, albeit belatedly, but still he does.

"Why don't we take a walk in the garden? I saw some fresh blooms while coming in." Soonyoung says and Jihoon stills with his glass of water halfway to his mouth. Suddenly his throat is parched, as dry as the Sahara and he gulps down the whole glass.

There's a garden just beside the cafe, where you used to go after school, to talk about everything and nothing, while walking around and enjoying the flowers. You used to tell him about the flowers, the types, the kind of care they needed – and he listened to you intently, soaking up all the information like he had to write a paper on it.

Soonyoung knows how much that memory means to him, how much he cherishes it and that little shit just suggested something which you will never say no to. It will also allow him an easy escape, which Jihoon knows he wants.

"Oh, yes. It's been so long since we've gone there." you pipe up and Jihoon's shoulders sag. He should have known. With his eyes set on Soonyoung in an unsaid battle, he hears you call his name.

"What do you think? Are you coming?" you look at him with an expectant smile, but your eyes say nothing. It's like you don't expect him to come, and his heart breaks that you would feel like that. That he'd ever say no to you.

"Yes." he quietly says and your eyes crinkle by the edges, as your smile grows a little.

There are bees. He sees insects hover over the flower bed, the rows of color covering the expanse of the garden and his mind buzzes as you don't even think twice before going near them.

He follows you like a tail, and ends up lurking at the edge of the flower bed as you bend down to caress the petals of a certain blue flower. He doesn't know the name, but he knows that he will soon. There's only so much time before you break your happy silence.

"It's a forget-me-not." you say and he smiles. It's so apt, because he doesn't think he can ever forget you. His eyes follow you as you bend down to pluck a small flower from the bush.

As soon as you had entered the garden, Soonyoung had picked up a call and vanished, saying something along the lines of how his assistant choreographer fucked up at work. He had gone away before Jihoon could even say that he didn't have an assistant.

You straighten up, with the flower held in your hand, your grasp around the small stem. It's with a small demeanor that you look up at him, eyes not meeting his, and settling on the rim of his glasses. He furrows his eyebrows as he calls out your name.

"Y/N?" that's when you open your palm to show that you had plucked two flowers. You slowly take his hand and place one forget-me-not in his palm, with your eyes on your touching hands.

You used to always pluck flowers at the garden back in the day, and give them to your friends. You also gave them a lot of information about the said flower, telling them how you liked the scent and the colors. But this time you are quiet, and Jihoon gives you a confused smile as he twirls the flower in his hand.

You still don't say anything, and with a content smile, you turn around and start walking, skirting along the edge of the field. It's after a while that he realizes he hasn't moved, and he quickly jogs to catch up with you.

You are again playing with a flower, this time a periwinkle – but you don't give one to him, and he wonders why? It's equally beautiful as the forget-me-not. He always thought you liked to give the flowers you found interesting. He shakes his head at that thought. Why is he thinking so much about something so trivial?

You drone on and on about the periwinkles, but stop talking when you come across another set of blue flowers. This time Jihoon knows them.

"Morning glory, right?" he says and you laugh.

"You know?"

"You have talked about them before." he shrugs and moves forward, not realizing you have stopped, frozen at the spot. It's after a few steps that he turns back to find you still there, staring straight ahead.

"Y/N, c'mon. Do you wanna pluck them too?"

You shake your head, "You listened to me whenever I spoke about these flowers?"

Jihoon furrows his eyebrows and walks towards you, "Of course I did. I always do."

He says that because it's the truth. He knows he can easily write a paper on all the flowers in this garden, just because of you.

Your eyes find his when he comes to a halt in front of you, and there's a pained smile on your face, which he wishes to wipe. It's like a movie when the breeze flows and your stray hair comes in front of your face, him instinctively tucking it behind your ear. His hand lingers there for a while and your smile doesn't seem so pained anymore.

"Do you know what these mean?" you whisper as you open your palm to show him the forget-me-not you previously plucked.

He shakes his head and brings his own palm up too, revealing the flower. He thinks he is functioning on auto-pilot, following you like a puppet and doing things he doesn't know. He even speaks with his eyes on your hand.

"I don't think you ever told me."

"They mean respect." you begin and he smiles. He does respect you a lot, and he knows you respect him too. You have never stayed back from letting him know how much you admire him, But it's when you continue that he snaps his eyes to your face, "They also mean love. True love."

He feels himself go still. Scarily still.

He wants to speak, but he thinks he will stutter.

He wants to hug you, but he thinks he will fumble.

He wants to kiss you, but he thinks he will crumble.

Do you mean to say-

"I'm in love with you." you quietly complete his thought and his mind goes haywire. He thinks he stands there, staring at your eyes, for an eternity. Because when you call out his name, he hears you in a haze.

"Huh?" he says and sees as you malfunction to follow up.

"I, you love me?" he asks and you nod.

"Yes." you don't look at him and continue rambling in a small voice, before he can even open his mouth,"I know you don't, and it's okay. I just couldn't keep it in me anymore. It's been so long. I just hope we don't break our friendsh-"

"I love you too."

You pause, and stare at him wide eyed. He is breathing heavily, like he was rushing to say these words. And he was, because god knows how long he has loved you. It's like a weight has been lifted from his chest, and he can breathe freely, love you freely, without needing to hide.

"I love you too, Y/N." he repeats, with a leveled voice and you blink.

"Oh my god." is the only thing you say before rushing into him, wrapping your arms around his torso and hugging him. He laughs and hugs you closer, butterflies swarming in his chest.

He feels as if finally he has reached the shore, after a long journey. After making friends with the water, and still yearning for land. He breathes you in, and then sighs, with his eyes closed. This is what home feels like. And he'd be damned if he went away from the shore again.

"Finally. I felt like I was being held hostage with my feelings." you mumble into his clothes and he sighs out a 'same'. Because he knows the feeling. He has felt that feeling.

He opens his palm and sees the flower sitting prettily. His smile gets bigger, eyes crinkling and heart turning giddy. This is adorable, you are adorable.

"Do you think Soonyoung planned this? Did he know?" you ask as you look up at him with a sheepish smile.

"He did. That fucking bastard." he shakes his head and you both laugh in the breeze.

"But I'm glad. Because finally I have you." he admits and you roll your eyes as you hug him again.

And now his feet are grounded, mind is clear, and heart is settled. As he has you in his arms, his world is complete and his home is vibrant. As he has you with him, he is calm, he is content, he is everything he never truly was.

He is happy.

-- feedback of any kind will be gladly appreciated :D

261 notes · View notes

britishassistant · 8 months

Text

It’s dark and dank down in the hag’s lair.

The infernal engine cuts through some of it, but it’s still enough to niggle at Karlach, feeding into her rage alongside the righteous fury of seeing this scared young mum cower while the hag wears her face and the ire of “we have had to run through an ABSOLUTE SHITHOLE to get here, and the bitch is still not dead?!”

She can see Wyll hanging back by Mayrina, eldritch blast crackling in one hand with his rapier at the ready in the other. Gale has magic missile humming at his fingertips, mage armor humming around him. Yuu is drawing the hag’s attention away from her, mockery as vicious as the spear they’re still getting the hang of.

The hag screeches as Karlach’s axe cleaves into her fleeing back, vanishing in a puff of rancid smoke.

But when the three dopplegangers reappear, something’s different. They’re all chanting, a language that Karlach doesn’t know but sets her teeth on edge the same way a devil or demon around does.

Gale yells something, but it’s drowned out by the chanting reaching a crescendo, the hags all shrieking in unison before the illusions burst.

The next thing Karlach knows, Yuu has vanished from her periphery, and the hag is cooing at something in her grasp.

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest little morsel, petal?” Floats over to where Karlach is, the saccharine sweet poison in the words somehow piercing the too-hot rush of her fury. “Now, hold still for Auntie…”

There’s a frightened child’s scream.

Karlach’s already hazy vision goes red.

Next thing she knows, she’s staring down at a pulped mess where the hag used to be, her rage broken by exhaustion more than anything else.

When she twists around, she sees Wyll curled around a small child, the pair of them staring up at her.

The only ways she can tell they’re a tiefling is the bruise pink face peeking out from under a wimple pulled too tight against their little head and horns. Gloves cover their hands, not even their feet peep out from under the hem of their long, undyed dress.

Looking at the kid, Karlach gets the weirdest sense that someone has tried really, really hard to make them as unlike themself as possible. Something in her gut squirms.

This teeny tiny version of their leader gazes up at her, mouth hanging open. Excitement, of all things, dancing in their eyes.

“Are you my Mummy?!” They ask.

“Uh.” Karlach says blankly.

Wyll’s lips are pressed together as he wheezes on an exhale.

Behind her, Gale begins coughing as though he’s choked on his own spit.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #karlach cliffgate #karlach #wyll ravengard #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #villainous paranoiac yuu #yuu #auntie ethel #de aging #because baby yuu imprinting on karlach would not leave me alone #Ethel is fey and so probably has access to spells like this #ur enemy too strong? de age them and eat them baby!#strong new hag guaranteed!

41 notes · View notes

barleyo · 1 year

Text

My Hero.

Spider-Noir X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: Hey, sorry that I've been gone for so long! Hope you all enjoy this little drabble of this charming ass man, even though it is rather short and all over the place, and even if I may have messed his character up a bit! Let me know if you want more Noir stuff.

Wordcount: 1.3K

Tags: Sex with a stranger, public sex, maybe a bit OOC (?), oral (m receiving), mentions of violence, mentions of robbery, teeny tiny itty bitty amount of femdom if you MAYBE squint

(Y/N) felt the man push her back into an alleyway, her back pressed against the rough brick of a wall behind her.

“Let go! Stop it, let go!” She tried to pull her small purse away from the man who had been robbing her. Her hands were smaller and weaker than his, she could not have held on for much longer. She gave the purse a final tug, successfully pulling it out of the man’s hands. “Get away from me,” she screeched.

“Listen,” the man said while his hand reached in his back pocket, drawing out a small knife, “hand over the pure and nobody gets hurt, yeah? Make this easy for the both of us.”

Her arms instinctively clutched her arms around the bag, eyes blown wide in fear.

“Fine then, have it your way.” The man flipped the blade of the knife outwards, pressing it against her neck. The cold blade rested against her, lightly pressing into her skin as if to act as a warning.

Though her throat constricted, she managed to choke out a plea for help, voice cracking while she called out for someone.

“Help m–” she barely finished her sentence before a body flashed in front of her. The only thing she made out was the man who had her pinned to a wall earlier was then scurrying away out of the alley, coughing and holding his side as he ran.

(Y/N)’s eyes scanned the ground quickly, noticing a hat sitting on the ground. She bent down to grab it. She picked it up and inspected it, wiping off what little dirt had collected at the brim.

“I believe that’s mine, miss. If you do not mind?”

Her head snapped up to a masked man standing in front of her, holding his hand out for his hand back. She slowly nodded and gave it to him, looking at him confusedly.

“You are that one Spider-Man fellow, aren’t you?” Her eyes narrowed and head tilted, looking him over. “The one everyone has been talking about?”

“Oh, I, uh, I suppose I am.” He quickly adjusted his hat back onto his head. “Are you all right, miss? I saw that man had a knife, he did not hurt you, did he?”

“You saved me,” she said blankly, not answering his question.

“Yes, yes, I did. Now–”

“Why did you save me?”

Even with the mask, he looked taken aback.

“You needed help, didn’t you?”

She bit the inside of her cheek, feeling assured by his words and energy. Despite what the news had said about him, he did seem like a good man. He had saved her, and it helped that he was quite handsome, as far she could tell through the mask. His voice was clear, and he was polite. She decided to trust him.

“I did. I should thank you, I do not know what I would have done had you not shown up.” (Y/N) placed her hand on his shoulder, thinning out the gap between the two of them. She ran her hand over the fabric of his coat, trailing her hand from his shoulder to down the length of his arm and back up again.

“Oh, no, ma’am! It was no trouble at all, no thanks necessary.”

(Y/N) shook her head and ran her hand down to the belt loops in his pants, pulling him closer to her. “No, no. To apologize for my rudeness earlier, and to thank you for what you did… I really should pay you back.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, lipstick covered mouth hanging slightly open. “May I?”

Peter’s eyes shifted from (Y/N) to the street outside of the alley. “What if someone sees us?” His hand hovered over his belt buckle, pants straining to contain his needy length.

“It is nighttime, isn’t it? Look around,” she motioned, “no one here. Thinking about it, it was a bit foolish of me to call out for help, nobody but you could have shown up,” she sighed, and brushed the thought off.

“Right… well…”

She sank to her knees. The rough ground was sure to bruise and scuff them both as her dress hitched up over her thigh, leaving her knees uncovered.

“I-I don’t know, are you sure?”

“Of course. I owe it to you, right?” (Y/N) moved his hand away from his belt buckle and undid it herself.

Peter shifted when the clinking sound of his buckle ceased, shrugging his pants lower on his hips. Tugging down his boxers, (Y/N) pulled his length out and wrapped her hand around it, giving it slow pumps.

She held eye contact with him while she worked, making sure that he was watching her as she batted her thick eyelashes up at him, flashing her teeth in a small grin whenever he had groaned or fidgeted.

“Are you ready, my hero?” she asked, teasing him slightly.

“A-ah–? Yeah, ready,” Peter said, voice hitching in his throat.

She stuck her tongue out as far as she could manage and tapped the tip of his cock on her tongue. Thin globs of pre spilled onto her tongue, a sheer coating of it filling her mouth as she licked over his full length. She used her hand to pump what she could not hit in her mouth, spitting into her palm and pumping at the base of Peter’s cock.

“Oh no,” she pulled off and examined the marks her lipstick left on him. Rings of product littered the skin, smeared from her saliva. “My lipstick, it’s all over you!”

He was lost in his pleasure, and what she was saying was lost on him. “What? Lipstick?”

She nodded.

Peter hummed and waved it off. “Doesn’t matter, just– just keep going, please,” he said, words slurring together.

(Y/N) wrapped her lips around him again and sank her head down. She split her throat as far as it could stretch to take all of him. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she continued, gagging over him.

He started to rock his hips forward, pushing further down her throat. “Christ, sorry, miss,” he said when heard her gagging get louder.

She placed her hands on the front of his thighs, steadying herself. She tapped his leg and hummed, urging him to continue and set his own pace, to use her mouth how he wanted.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you–”

He gasped as he felt her arms hook around the back of his legs and pull his hips forward. The tip kissed the back of her throat, and she let go of his legs, giving one of them a small tap. He swallowed thickly and nodded down at her.

He placed one hand on the rough brick wall, and another got lost in her hair, cradling the back of her head. He bottomed out, pushing deep into the depths of her throat.

(Y/N) closed her eyes, holding in the tears that formed on her waterline. They leaked out from her shut lids and streamed down her reddened cheeks.

“Oh, miss, don’t cry, here,” he groaned. Taking his thumb, he wiped the tears from her face, smearing them away. “Yeah, that’s, ah,” he drew a sharp breath and cursed under his breath, legs growing weak under his weight as he felt his climax inch closer, “that’s better, yeah? Oh, Christ, you feel so good… so close.”

(Y/N) pulled off of him with a slick pop, rushing to catch her breath while she wrapped her hand around his dick again, feeling it twitch in her grasp.

“There you go, come on now, hero,” she said with her rasping voice, throat still raw.

Peter gritted his teeth and came. Thick spurts of cum released from his cock, most of it ending up in (Y/N)’s palm, some leaking onto the ground. She licked her hand and cleaned it off, then stood up, looking straight at Peter while he looked away.

She placed a hand onto his shoulder again and gave it a gentle pat. “Hey, look at me, Mr. Spider-Man.”

“Hm?”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you again. Hopefully not after being mugged.” She removed her hand from him and walked away, heels clicking as she walked down the sidewalk. “You know where to find me.”

#barleyxnighteye #fanfiction #smutfic #smut #fanfic #smutty smut smut #into the spider verse #spiderman #across the spiderverse #spider noir #spider man noir #x reader #spider noir x reader

138 notes · View notes

yesimwriting · 2 years

Text

What Follows

a/n can (likely) see myself making a part 2 of this, it’s like 4:30 AM and i cannot make that decision rn,, so if you think that’s a good idea or are interest,, lmk, public opinion could make or break my decision once i’m better rested

Summary: If you had to think about the coincidences that brought you to this, you’d realize that it was inevitable. Domino pieces falling into place. Or, to put it simply, it’s the end of the world and yet your biggest concern is your teeny tiny...terrible, life ruining crush.

*cough* sharing bed trope, and some other stuff

also i’ve never played the game i’ve only watched the show but i have some context of the game (i’ve watched some videos),, but timeline wise,, location wise, it’s pretty general as i’m just going with what fits for my intended story line like i do with most fics :)) it’s mainly set in a sort of safe house

warnings: potential timeline errors, mentions of age gap that’s pretty vague, allusions to anxiety and canon angsty-ness

----

Memories of before are tricky. Most of them hybrids, odd mix-matches of true experiences and snippets of other things. Stories from an uneasy rotation of people, bits and pieces from books and magazines and other odds and ends. A collage that makes up an easily swayed perception of the world before.

But you know this one is real. You know it is because it’s so mundane there’s no way someone gave it to you. It’s a quick glimpse, a brief flicker of you in a pair of roller skates with those thick, plastic stoppers attached to the front. The memory isn’t of what they felt like, or how many laps you did up and down your block. All you remember is the stinging. The soft skin of your knee scraped raw by the sidewalk. The particularness of that kind of pain.

That’s what the realization feels like. Knowing that there’s a chance that you might feel something for Joel outside of general gratitude for the unofficial way Ellie and him took you in is speeding down a street just to collapse with no warning against unforgiving concrete.

His fingers brush around broken skin with a delicateness that turns you rigid. These are the same hands that beat a man within an inch of his life the first time he met you. It’s a juxtaposition that twists your nerves tight around your stomach.

It’s quiet now. More so than usual because Ellie’s asleep. If you had to come to your realization at all, you should have done it during the day. With Joel at a safe distance and Ellie awake to distract from the fact that you’ve been staring at his hand in total silence for minutes now. A violently out of character mistake, which is why you’re not surprised when his voice breaks the nothingness with a question: “You alright?”

You sit up a little straighter. “Yeah.” It comes out flat and distant. “Yeah,” you affirm, a little more here, “Just thinking.”

Ugh. Not nearly deflective or subtle enough. It’s the kind of cop out answer that worked in the beginning, before there was any form of attachment. Back then, you thought you’d only be around them for a few days. Until the swelling in your ankle went down enough to let you walk efficiently again. It was the least they could do then, after you jumped in to save Ellie when Joel and her were briefly separated.

Joel’s mouth pulls into a shadow of a frown in the low light. A pang of guilt strikes you in the chest with no warning. Slipping back to that for no real reason goes a step beyond unfair; it’s mean. “I remembered something from before.” Joel says nothing, but his eyes refocus on you in a way that feels attentive. “Nothing big or interesting, just remembered these roller skates from when I was a kid. The one time I went out without knee pads I fell and scraped my knee.”

His hand shifts away from your current injury--a long, yet shallow cut up your foreleg. Joel’s fingertips ghost up the skin, there and not at the same time. He settles his palm near your knee. “Is that how this happened?” There’s a hint of something in his voice, a touch of gentleness that makes you feel like he might be teasing you, at least a little.

That kind of humor is new. Well, not new new anymore, but new enough to still sometimes slip past your perception or take you completely by surprise. Joel’s transition from constantly distant and standoffish to who he is now was equal parts slow as it was all at once. Weeks of tiptoeing, of hesitant flashes of a softer side until it became more and more there. It’s still not the side of him that’s most common, but considering the place where the two of you started from, the difference feels like miles from the sad starting point.

You blink, tilting your head downwards to focus on the skin next to his thumb. A scar that’s little more than a blemish. The kind of mark that’s a result of picking at a scab again and again. “That’s nothing.” It’s such a small thing and Joel pointed it out so quickly. Like he knows your skin better than you do. Dwelling on that thought isn’t an option, so you recover with a question, “How’d you even see that?”

Joel raises his eyebrows as if your surprise is something worth being amused by. “When you get used to seeing, it’s easy.”

Of course it’s that. Considering how Joel is, how he always scouts out areas before letting us settle, it makes sense that he’d notice that. It’d be weirder if he didn’t. You press your foot into the ground, letting the feel of the dirt compacting itself beneath your shoe hold you in place. You’re almost embarrassed that you’ve never noticed the mark on your knee enough to fully register it. “I’ll let you check the rest of me for scars later then.”

What. Did. You. Just. Say. What.

Your entire body becomes as stiff as the trunk you’re leaning against. There are a lot of things you don’t know about attraction and dating, but you’re not so dense you can’t tell that that’s the worst line you’ve ever heard.

Staring at the ground forever feels like the only safe option left, but it’s extremely unviable. After a few seconds, not knowing starts to feel as bad as knowing so you force yourself to look up enough to see him. He’s staring at you, mouth morphing into a subtle smile. He lets out a breathy scoff that’s supposed to cover a laugh, but you know better by now than to fall for that.

“I didn’t say that.” With a sigh, you let your eyes shut. “I mean--I said it as in the words did come out of my mouth--but not like--y’know.”

Joel laughs again, this time more openly. It’s deep and full and makes the burning of your humiliation worth all of it. “I know?”

Squinting your eyes open, you take in his smugness. It’s different and oddly warm. And unfortunately, not unattractive. “You’re not funny.” Indignation makes you want to pull your leg back, and you should. You know you should. If there was any concern about the cut on your leg, Joel wouldn’t be joking. But he relaxes his hand, fingers splaying against your skin. “So what’s the verdict: Keeping the leg or cutting my losses?”

Joel lets out another breath-laugh. This time it’s shorter. “And I’m the unfunny one?” Yeah, that’s the kind of response that guarantees your safety. The kind of comment he’d only ever make if everything is truly fine. “You’re okay.”

“Just like I told you--”

He ignores the comment with an expert’s ease. “Tomorrow I’ll go out, get some penicillin.”

“Shit.” You frown, turning your leg out slightly to get a better look. This is easily one of the most embarrassing injuries of your life. Not inflicted by the monsters that infest your world or a corrupt person. The only thing you’re a victim of is not paying enough attention while panicking and not noticing a jagged rock. It’s nothing life changing, nothing worthy of this much attention or discussion. “It’s infected?”

Joel’s hand relaxes against your lower knee. It’s more of an implication of pressure than an actual change, but your body reacts to it all the same. You ease. “It was a muddy rock.” He pauses, like he’s running through his words. “Better safe.”

Oh. Preventative antibiotics. A kind thought, but it feels unrealistic. “If nothing’s wrong, I don’t think we should risk it.” You blink, eyes struggling to focus on anything other than the hand still on your knee. If Joel feels awkward about it, he gives no indication. Which means it must be normal. Joel’s too him to do anything not normal when it comes to touch. “You’re hurt. More hurt than me, who’s just an idiot.”

“’M fine.” Tell that to the flash of purple you saw when Joel’s shirt briefly rode up this morning. It had only been that way for a second, but that was all it took for you to realize that Joel’s bruising is larger than the size of your hand. You wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he has a cracked rib.

You must let your disbelief show because the corner of his mouth turn upwards. Not quite a smile, but it’s close enough. “Tell that to your probably cracked rib.”

“I’m fine,” he repeats, and when you don’t ease, he tacts on something fatal, “Don’t pout.”

The joke is nothing original. Back in the ‘early’ days of your friendship, when things were rockier and less known, Joel had pointed out your expressiveness. He claimed it made it too easy to figure out more or less what you were thinking. It hadn’t been an insult, but it bothered you more than it should have. Which is a fact that Joel used to prove his hypothesis correct, because he then immediately told you that there was no point in pouting about it.

Joel only says it in good humor. You know that, but that doesn’t mean you like it. It all goes back to the same thing. An implication that you’re transparent. You hate it.

Transparency is for the naive, for those who haven’t experienced enough to be hardened. It makes you feel like a child, and maybe that’s intentional. Maybe it’s Joel’s equivalent to patting you on the head and telling you to cheer up, kiddo.

You’ve never understood the way the implication manages to snag itself beneath your skin, but now that you’re examining it under the lens of your new realization, it’s too much. There’s a good chance he sees you like another kid to look after.

“I’m not pouting.” A bad kind of heat rises up your chest. Instinctually, you angle your leg a little closer to yourself. It’s not a full retreat, but Joel’s fingers shift to secure their hold on you.

It’s enough to shock you into stilling. If Joel’s prolonged contact was unexpected, him instinctually fighting to keep it is absolutely unbelievable. He’s not squeezing or forcing you to stay in place, but the gesture is enough to feel like he’s asking you to. “Need to wrap it.”

Another thing you consider over treating a cut of this size. The only thing startling about it is its length. “It’s not that deep.”

“Let me wrap it.” His voice comes out with a gruff annoyance that’s become increasingly familiar. It makes everything sound like some kind of version of don’t give me shit.

You fight down a grin. “Admit your rib’s cracked.”

Joel presses his lips together, lines etching themselves into his skin. “Do you always have to argue?”

Pausing, you pretend to have to think about it. “We all need hobbies.” You give yourself permission to look at him. Really look at him. “When you argue your eyebrows draw together and this line appears between them.”

He laughs once, this time a little more openly. It’s still a little breathy and maybe even a little reluctant, but it feels good. Like sunlight saturating a room during the dead of winter. “I’m old.”

Another reminder of that. You fight against the way it twists at your insides. “I’ve met older.”

“Grandparents don’t count.”

It’s all so weird and ridiculous, so you do the only thing you can think to. You laugh. “I wasn’t thinking about my grandparents.”

It’s meant to be a joke that echoes his own, only it’s not quite that. Not with the way your voice softens and your eyes focus on his.

His fingers take their time parting from your skin. A slow drag that feels dangerously close to intentional. You’re practically holding your breath until he stands. “I’ll grab something for your leg.”

There’s another thing left to point out. Something hanging in between the two of you. The fact that you’re perfectly capable of bandaging it yourself. That there’s a good chance you’d be better at it. “Okay.”

----

When there is no sun and sleep pulls you under only to push you back out, time feels fickle. You don’t know how long it’s been since you all agreed to go to bed.

Things feel different now that you’re all temporarily established in some safe house. Joel’s connection to it is vague to you. He mentioned his brother at some point, though you think details were used intentionally sparingly. It doesn’t feel cagey to you like it used to. Now it just feels like he’s holding off until it’s time to tell you everything.

Maybe he’s waiting for it to come up naturally on some night where there’s nothing but time or maybe he’s waiting for it to feel right. You’re okay with either and any option. His past is his. You know he gives you what he can bare to and it’s only a matter of time until you hear the rest.

You sit up, resting your back against the wall that your mattress is pressed against. Despite the dark, the outline of your roommate is easy to see. You’re not sure how it happened, the division of space that led to you and Joel in the same room and Ellie sleeping on her own.

It’s only been a few nights and you’ve yet to regret going along with it. Ellie deserves the little privacy life can offer her considering the way you and Joel watch the poor girl. And, in all honestly, you’ve never been particularly fond of long hours alone in the dark. Especially since you joined Joel and Ellie on their mission. You’ve gotten more used to being around people than ever and that’s made being alone more noticeable than ever.

Sometimes when you can’t sleep your mind goes there. After. The inevitable separation. It makes your chest hurt and forces memories of what you’ve already lost to the surface. That makes it even harder to sleep, so sometimes you just settle for watching. You’d feel weirder about it if the dark of night didn’t make it little more than a step above staring off into space.

Bending your knees, you adjust your position on the mattress, letting thin blankets fall away. It’s cold; the bite of it is welcomed.

Everyone’s temporary. You’ve learned that already. It’s burned into you the way that normal memories should be.

This is stupid. All of it. Maybe Joel’s right to see you as a child. One bad dream shouldn’t have this much power of you. Quietly, you squeeze your arms around your legs. It’s the same position you were in when it happened. When you lost her.

You don’t realize that you’re breathing heavier than you should be until you hear Joel’s mattress adjust as he moves from his side to his back. Shit. He never gets enough sleep. Guilt and embarrassment swell in you, but it’s not enough to subdue the impending panic.

“You awake?” It’s mumbled through a voice that’s heavy with sleep.

A part of you wants to stay quiet, but that’d be wrong. You already woke him up, the last thing you need to do is stress him out. “Yeah,” you manage, “I’m up.” Your voice comes out so hollow you barely recognize it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I--I’m gonna--” You don’t know what the end of the sentence is supposed to be. Something that implies that you’re stepping out and that everything’s fine. “Go back to sleep.”

There’s a moment of nothing and a small part of you thinks maybe Joel’s listened for once. Your hope is shattered at the sound of rustling sheets. “C’mere.”

It’s said so faintly you can imagine that it’s a figment of your imagination. Likely a mumbled slur that he won’t even remember in the morning. A sleep idled grunt of acknowledgement that just so happened to sound like a word. You know it’s nothing. You know you heard him incorrectly, but you can’t relax. Not yet. You hold yourself there, breath caught in your lungs as a prolonged beat passes.

Joel breaks the silence by moving off of his side and on to his back. His arm stretches forward, pulling his blanket to the side. Are you crazy or is that...some kind of invitation? “I’m not going back to bed until you come here.”

There’s still sleep in his voice, but he’s already managed to snap back into seriousness. A subdued authority. Your body moves on its own accord. You sit up fully, place your feet on the ground, and stand. Walking is a little harder but the distance is short.

You stand in front of his mattress, smaller than you’ve ever been. Joel’s never fully relaxed. He’s close to it now, and you wonder if you’ll be around long enough to be able to see it. The question leaves you too cold, too antsy. Before you know what you’re doing, you’re sitting at the edge of his mattress. “’M here,” you whisper, “And I’m fine.”

A touch at your lower arm nearly makes you jump. It’s just Joel. “You’re shaky.” He sits up so quickly you can barely register it. The back of his palm presses itself against your neck before he reaches for your temple. His fingers feel like ice but you can’t bring yourself to move away. “You’re not warm--”

“No fever.” It leaves you too quietly. “I--I’m fine.” Joel’s hand leaves your forehead and settles against your back. “Just realized some shit.” His fingers drag down your spine and trace their way back to their original resting place. Again and again, a pattern that makes it easy to breathe. “I’ve been around for awhile, with you and Els. Longer than I thought I’d be. Longer than...” Longer than I’ve been with anyone since I lost her. “Just longer.”

His touch nearly falters. “Mhm.”

“And it’s been nice. Really nice.” Your nails softly scratch the inside of your wrist. “And I don’t want to get to that part where something fucked up happens.” Your breath catches itself in your throat. “I know that the fucked up part is normally my fault. Historically, at least, but--” You cut yourself off with a shaky breath, hating yourself for being this pathetic. “I just really don’t want to get there. To the fucked up part that leads to the leaving part.”

Getting things out in the open is supposed to make things feel better. It’s supposed to make things lighter. That’s what people always say. This isn’t that. There’s no epiphany, no healing. It leaves you and it stays that way. Gone.

Hollowness is worse. It’s too revealing. You should leave, mumble a vague comment about dreams and sleepy thoughts before crawling back to your own jumble of cushioning and jumbled blanket or at the very least apologize for waking him over nothing.

You do neither. For a minute there’s only the silence and the cold and the safe assurance of Joel tracing patterns against your back. “There’s not going to be a fucked up part.” Joel destroys the silence. “Not a fucked up part that leads to leaving.”

“You don’t know--” Your cut off is jarring, but it’s better than letting him hear what you were going to say. You don’t know me. Don’t know the kinds of things that happen around me. “That.”

Joel’s hand retreats and your world feels less stable. “There won’t be.” His tone is harsher than before, a tone that leaves no room for argument from the universe let alone you. He shifts, pushing most of himself to one side. “Just lay down.” The lowness of his voice is too assured to be considered understanding. It hints at impatience but undoes a knot in your stomach regardless. “Try to get some sleep.”

You nod your head slowly, the motion overly deliberate despite the fact that he likely can’t see it. There’s nothing else to be said, so you stretch back, placing your legs onto his mattress and carefully easing yourself onto your back.

Now that you’re under the same blanket as him, the thinness of it is hard to ignore. When the three of you divided the bedding supplies found in some closet, Joel had picked last. You asked if he ever felt like trading, but he insisted that he was warm enough and that if he ever wasn’t, he could always use his jacket for extra layering.

The realization that he’s likely been freezing without complaint takes a second to sink in. He likes his walls up and to play detached, but then takes the worst of the blankets without complaint. It’s so stupidly close to being a martyr that you nearly laugh. It’s so him in the worst way, the kind of way he’d never acknowledge.

You’re debating whether or not the additional warmth of your blanket would be worth potentially disturbing his sleep again. If you did that, maybe in the morning you could pretend to get the two blankets mixed up. You think you could get used to being this cold if he’d let you.

“You know what you remind me of.”

His voice is so unexpected you nearly jump out of your skin. With your mind focusing on other things, it was easier to pretend that there was nothing unusual about this.

Blood rushing to your face, you adjust so that you’re more on your side. Facing him. "I thought you wanted me to go to sleep.”

Joel sighs and you can practically feel his lungs filling and deflating. “I didn’t think tonight would be the night you started listening to me.”

At least he’s learning. “First time for everything.” The words feel different once they’re out in the air. It’s meant to be a passing comment, not what the darkness morphs it into.

It’s the second time a realization has come at a terrible time in the last few days. You know that you’ve been lying in his bed, but now you’re feeling the fact. Feeling the little space between you and the dip in the mattress’s fabric where he’s resting. It’d be easy to extend your arm. Dangerously easy.

You feel his head tilt, angling himself even closer to you. “Do you want to know or not?”

It takes a second for your mind to cement a connection. “What I remind you of?” You hum once, several jokes that’d make this easier coming to mind instantly. “I have a few guesses.” It’s too dark to make out the details of his expression, but you can feel his halfhearted glare. “Okay, tell me.”

“There was this story from before. Way before.” You’re patient as he takes his time thinking through what he wants to say. You don’t mind the wait, not when he’s close enough that his casualness is tangible enough to be contagious. “About a kid that saw this white rabbit. She chased the thing down a hole and it took her into this other world, and there were some other things, but she kept chasing that rabbit.”

You would have laugh if he had spoken any less seriously. It’s always been clear that you two aren’t exactly the same age, and some references that are about before the outbreak feel either vague or completely disconnected from you, but not everything. “I know I’m younger than you, but I know about Alice in Wonderland.”

“Excuse me.” The two words are dripping in sarcasm; you beam. “After you didn’t know that--”

“I knew you were going to say that.” You don’t get one reference one time and now he feels the need to explain everything. “It was one time.”

“Even Ellie got it.”

“I was tired.” He raises his eyebrows at that, a gesture of disbelief. You huff once, sitting up a little to shove his shoulder. “I was.” He lets out a sound that’s a little too smug. You move your hand, but before you can push at his arm, his fingers find their way around your wrist. When you try to tug your arm back, his resistance surprises you. “Asshole.”

His hand leaves goosebumps crawling up your arm as he adjusts his hold on you. “You’re the one that shoved me.” Like he’s not the one that instigated it. “And you interrupted me.”

“Fine.” You lay back down. Joel doesn’t let go of your arm and you make no move to get it back. His hands are so cold you find it hard not to worry. Hypothermia’s a thing. “Continue. Alice in Wonderland.”

“The rabbit,” he says, “You’re a lot like that.”

You play around with the thought, scraping together the details you remember about the white rabbit. It’s been awhile since you’ve watched the Disney movie version, and even longer since you’ve heard the actual story. Alice got into some trouble with the queen of hearts and her card deck guards. Every time she wasn’t supposed to be somewhere it was because of that rabbit, wasn’t that the gist of it? She just kept chasing and chasing it.

“So who am I leading astray?”

“No.” He says it so quickly, the silence that follows is unexpected. You accept it. You’ll wait. “You’re...you’re followable.” Oh. The cold makes no difference to the uncontrollable warmth that rushes to your face.

He feels tenser, his touch on your arm a little more hesitant. The meaning of that from Joel isn’t lost on you."You are, too.”

Joel’s fingers brush up your arm. “Not the way you are.”

You like the way he is, like that he’s the kind of person that can be moody and standoffish for days and still take the thinnest blanket. “I disagree.”

“That’s not new.”

“I think it’s good we don’t agree.” He waits for you to continue with little reaction, but you know he’s listening. “I can follow you, you can follow me. Makes it easier.”

He hums once, “Sounds like walking in circles.”

Rolling your eyes, you finally let your attention fall to his hand. “You’re so cold.”

Joel mistakes it for a complaint instead of the show of concern it’s meant to be. His hand moves off you so quickly you barely have a chance to reach for him. He doesn’t resist, not even when you squeeze his one hand between both of yours. You’re careful, gentle as you let your fingers move up and down his skin. When he doesn’t complain, you do something a better rested you would have never done. You let your touch wander further, first to his wrist and then down to his forearm. He’s no warmer there.

“Shit, Joel.” you start pressing your hands against his forearm, your need to make his skin feel like it’s at a stable temperature overriding your survival instincts. “You’re freezing.” You sit up, taking his arm with you. “Are you sick?”

“Sick’s hot.”

“Tell that to someone with early stage hypothermia.” You scoot back, preparing to move over to grab your blanket. “I’ll get my blanket.”

He squeezes your arm. “I’m fine.” You’re seconds away from protest, but Joel stops you. “Just stay put.”

You’re about to insist. It’ll take less than a minute and make things a lot better. The urgency in his hold makes it impossible. Makes the thought of doing anything that doesn’t involve holding on just as intensely outside of the realm of possibility. “Okay.”

If he’s surprised at how quickly you give in, he doesn’t show it, he just lets you lay down again. You’re not sure if you can prove it, but it feels like he’s closer than before. “How are you not cold?”

You almost tell him you do feel cold, he’s just that much colder, but then think he might use that as a reason to move away from you. He’d never understand that you’d rather be cold than know he’s freezing. Or maybe the problem is he’d get it too much, that he’d feel the same way.

“I run a little warm.” You brush your fingers down his arms again. It’s nice in a way you don’t get. “Except my feet.”

He tilts his head. “Your feet?”

You stretch your legs until your feet find his. “They’re cold.”

Joel lets out a disgruntled sound, moving closer to let his legs cover your feet. “Rabbit.”

The giggle that comes out would be embarrassing if that had been any less funny. Your forehead pushes forward, dropping against his shoulder. “Please don’t let that stick.”

“They burrow.” You grin against his skin, deciding that you really like this version of him. A little lighter, a little more candid. “You’re a little jittery, too.”

“Shut up.” He’s not wrong, which only makes you resent him a little more. “‘M not.”

There’s no fight in your reaction so you have no idea how Joel finds a way to take it as a challenge. He must have, though, because you can think of no other explanation for the way he stills. No other motive for the way you can feel his eyes focusing on you or the slow way he moves his hand down your arm.

You will your body to stay still, to not react. It doesn’t listen. You shiver.

Maybe you are a fucking rabbit.

The only thing worse than this reaction is the thought of Joel being right. So you force your lips to part even though you have no idea what to say. “Think we should go to sleep.” Your voice feels awkward, shallow. “...Get a few hours before Els wakes up.”

He’s almost smiling, “She takes up a lot of energy.”

“Yeah,” you agree with an even more open fondness, “Told her I’d teach her how to shoot arrows and french braid hair.” You smile at the thought. It’s good to have someone to teach, to pass something onto. “Feels like summer camp.”

You’re expecting a similar type of joke, or maybe a snarky comment about archery over actual shooting. Instead, his hand settles a little more comfortably against your arm. “You’re good with her.”

“She’s easy to be good with.” It’s true. Beneath the smart ass jokes and swear rate that could make a sailor uncomfortable, Ellie’s just a kid, and a good one, too.

Joel’s one to talk about people that are good with Ellie. When you first met, you genuinely thought they were father and daughter until Joel explained to you what they were doing. “It’s more than that.”

His approval means a lot when it comes to this. “You’re even better with her.”

Ellie’s another factor all together. There’s no way it wouldn’t feel weird for her to know that in the other room, you and Joel are sharing a mattress, holding onto each other because of the cold.

It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong, it just feels odd when considering her. Like this is some kind of game of house. The realization that you think you might like Joel is still pretty new and something that’s ruined a lot of things. Every time it floats to the front of your mind, everything starts feeling off.

You don’t want to taint this or to overthink. You want to let it all soak in. The two of you sharing a mattress and a too thin blanket. His leg is still resting over your feet and your hands are still on his arm. You’re a slowly tangling web of limbs and you don’t think you’d have it any other way as you drift towards unconsciousness.

#the last of us fanfic #tlou fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #the last of us x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #tlou #tlou hbo max #fluff

150 notes · View notes

spacebeyonce · 9 months

Text

anyway it is wednesday. wip wednesday. so here is my offering. a teeny teeny tiny little piece.

Meryl didn't notice just how dim Vash's eyes had been until she watches the light return at her words. His mouth falls open and a soft gasp leaves him as he stares at her like she just said the most profound thing in the world. Meryl feels warmth slowly creeping across her face; she doesn't think it was that groundbreaking--

Her thoughts screech to a halt as Vash darts forward and snatches a kiss from her lips. His lips are dry, and a little chapped, and Meryl stiffens, feeling her awareness expand outwards from that one chaste kiss. Now, she's not focused on just his tired face, his sad eyes --- now she notices how he's draped over her, one leg wedged between her thighs while the other is braced against the floor, back curved in an awkward arch. How their compromised position escaped her notice, she'll never know, but she sure is noticing now.

The warmth under her skin increases, and Vash must have noticed the way she stiffened up because he quickly retreats; if he wasn't trying to put all his weight on her she was certain he'd have his hands up, trying to make himself as small as possible when he thinks he's upset someone.

"Sorry!!" He's saying, the words practically tripping over themselves in their effort to come out. "Sorry, I--! Uh, I didn't mean to do that without asking, I just, I just. I just, um. Um."

Blankly, her hand drifts up to her lips, the pads of her fingers dragging lightly over the skin his lips touched. Vash is squirming at her silence, and suddenly Meryl wishes that it wasn't so dim -- she wants to know if he's blushing.

"I just --" his voice squeaks on the way out, and he coughs in an effort to clear his throat. "I just. Really wanted to, uh. To kiss you then. That's all. Sorry."

#wip wednesday #trigun stampede #vashmeryl #I will improve this. when I have no alcohol in me #goodbye

21 notes · View notes

ask-valiant-victory · 4 months

Note

Hazel: "So you like puzzles, do ya? Man, the ones with all those teeny tiny pieces are the worst." Sitting next to the strange Pokemon, she continued to ramble a little more. "When you have paws as big as I do, it's tough grabbing onto small things, you know? Least, not without squishing 'em by accident... that, and I'm not the best with puzzles. How about you?"

Valiant stared at Hazel for a long moment, not enough to be uncomfortable but just enough to seem awkward. He found her question a bit odd, he'd never really thought of that before. He didn't know what to say. "Am I the best at puzzles?" He asked with a tinge of confusion in his voice. "Well... Um."

"Uh-" Nervously he looked around, he really didn't know how to answer that question. He didn't really like the question either... No. He hated that question and that was certainly a first for him. "I- ... Uhm. Well, you see..."

"Doing the things my god wants me to do... without question or asking the reason why... What do I do best?"

"Ruining things... destroying things... tearing apart everything..." Valiant quickly fell silent, his gaze beginning to transfix on the void of grey behind her. The more he stared at the dull grey, the more he began to look absent, his eyes looking devoid of any presence. Perhaps he was simply lost in the sudden storm of thoughts Hazel had caused him... or maybe he wasn't thinking at all. But eventually, through the haze, he let out an awkward choked sound. It soon morphed into a fit of forced laughter.

He clapped his hands together dramatically, he was trying his best to draw attention away from what he just said. It was clear he hadn't quite mastered the art of lying yet, so the best he could do was distract. "Perhaps we can speak of something else? Please?" He coughed out, "I do not like thinking about what I am best at doing. It all feels so awful. I really do not like this feeling in my chest, It hurts! Alot! I would like it to stop now, Please." Though he smiled, it was obvious he was in a lot of distress. He didn't want to talk about this anymore.

→ Uh... Maybe someone should see if he's okay there, He seems to be suddenly very... distraught.

#avv: valiant #avv: chrono #Valiant feels his first emotion live feed #Babys first emotion is really the beginning of a whole-ass panic attack Hazeeel D: What have you donnnee!! /lh #Valiants brain is full o' diet trauma #Word of advice never ask him what he's good at his thoughts will never go to puzzles first #shitpost turned serious - your shitpost will return back to normal after we have a small PANIC intermission - Please stand by /lh #Avv: All Posts

12 notes · View notes

filthyfluffyfantasies · 1 year

Text

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . DL;DR - this fic is not meant for anyone under the age of 18 as it contains the following: unprotected p in v sexual contact, biting, the use of petnames, charlie's virginity kink, the mental replay of rory culkin's little moans, slightly dominant!charlie. writer does not give permission for her works to be reposted, with or without permission. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

prompt four - virginity

character | fandom - charlie walker | scream movie franchise

reader | original character - female reader, girlfriend & non -or vague, description.

words - roughly 1.8 k

tagging - < taglist here >

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . a movie date turned sexual. you get your cherry popped on your parent's couch during a paused psycho by Charlie Walker..✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆. ───

You and Charlie have been dating almost 7 months and if not for one little, itsy-bitsy, teeny tiny problem, everything would be absolutely perfect.

That problem? Not once. Not a single time has Charlie Walker done anything, he hasn’t made any attempt at all to initiate a sexual encounter. And this would normally be a relief for you if it weren’t so goddamn frustrating. If you weren’t 100% ready to give yourself to him.

You’ve run out of subtle ways to clue him in. And according to the girls, maybe subtle and Charlie don’t exactly mix.

Your lips purse as you stare at him, determination to get what you want, making your eyes gleam and dance. You’re staring at him so hard, practically willing him to take his eyes off the goddamn horror movie he put in almost an hour ago. So far, the staring hasn’t done any real good.

In the midst of your latest round of frustrated staring, Charlie’s eyes leave the television set in front of you in your living room and he clears his throat. ❝ Something wrong? ❞ he asks as baby blue eyes flit over your body, taking in the way you keep shifting and squirming in place beside him. You’ve been doing it the whole movie, he’s been well-aware.

Almost as aware as he's also been of this thick tension in the air between you lately. Or the way you're becoming a lot more openly affectionate. Or the way you didn't exactly stop him from slipping his hand beneath the silky soft cup of your bra earlier and you let him cop a feel. Or ten. The memory prompts a cough and he can feel himself getting hard all over again.

❝ I..❞ you stammer and after a second, ❝ Forget it..❞ is mumbled before you go completely silent. But it’s too late for a back-track and now, your boyfriend is curious. He reaches out, slender hand and long fingers circle the remote and seconds later, the movie is paused.

He rubs the bridge of his nose. ❝ No. Just say whatever you were about to say.❞

❝ Okay, fine. You asked for it. ❞ - you mutter quietly. Charlie’s brow raises as you move from the spot beside him on the sofa to straddling his lap. Charlie’s breath hangs in his throat and his heart is racing. He glances up at you, ❝ What’s gotten into you tonight?❞ he asks, his words accompanied by a whine that slips out as you clumsily squirm around in his lap for comfort and he can feel his cock twitch, pushing against the fly of baggy jeans with need as he gets even harder, the ache as it settles within, it makes him want to peel off his own skin.

Or your clothes and his to bury himself deep inside you, fucking you until you're so dumb from it that the only name you remember is his.

❝ I want–❞ the breathless sound of your soft voice against the shell of his ear has him burning up, as if someone's pumped out all his blood, replaced it with gasoline and they've just lit a match. ❝ C'mon, ❞ he coaxes, voice husky, velvet and gravel against the shell of your ear as he clumsily tries to adjust himself but winds up rubbing against you instead, pushing you to your brink. Your needy whine at the way his cock grazes right against dripping hot sex as it throbs, desperate to be filled, the sound ignites something within the quiet boy and suddenly, he understands.

A chuckle, dark and dangerous, slips past his lips and as he gazes at you intently. ❝ Tell me what you want. Tell me, pretty girl.❞ he groans as you re-center, your cunt against the bulge prominent below his fly, his thin fingers clasping at the meat of your ass as he bucks himself up into you and luscious lips find the shell of your ear, ❝ Is my beautiful, sweet, ❞ he growls out, his lips against your soft skin as he leaves a line of bites and bruises behind and bucks himself up into you even harder; faster like he's in a frenzy, ❝ girl finally ready to be fucked?❞ - the vulgarity in his words are a contrast with the slight waver of his voice as he tries to wrap his head around what might finally be about to happen.

His hand skims over your curvature and the other one really squeezes your ass, using the firm grip he has on your warm little body to pull you back and forth over his clothed bulge as he forgets himself - and Psycho, in favor of rutting himself up into you, eyes wild and hungry when they lock with yours. The intensity of his stare pins you.

❝ I asked you a question, pretty girl.❞ he repeats, the waver in his voice again serving as the most frustrating foil to his calm air of dominance. He grabs you by the ass harder, this makes you bear your weight down against his lap. His head falls back against the sofa as a series of groans - and the begging and needy whines, shatter silence. ❝ – ah! I need to-❞ he practically growls against the shell of your ear as he comes alive beneath you and his hands just won't stay still a second longer, ❝ I need to hear you say it, c'mon.. say it, pretty girl.❞

❝ Charlie!❞ you whine in need, the pace in which you're rocking yourself back and forth over him making you ache, burn. ❝ I need..❞ your lips dance down his hot neck after you've nosed light brown hair out of your way, ❝ I want you soooo bad.❞

❝ You want me, huh? ❞ he is dazed. On autopilot. But he's not so dazed that he forgets to ask the question he's been dying to since your first ever heated closet makeout, the one where you stopped him just when things were really starting to heat up. ❝ Are you tired of being a virgin, pretty girl?❞

Your gasped answer, a quiet ❝ Y-yeah.❞ against his pulse ignites something within the quieter boy, it's as if the second he realizes he's going to be the one to ruin you for all the other boys, he's determined to do exactly that.

❝ Fuck.❞ he groans quietly as you whimper and whine and beg for his cock. ❝ Easy. Whoa.❞ he groans out as his hand slips between your thighs, settling palm down against your needy, soaked sex. He locks eyes with you but his eyes aren't the same as usual, pupils blown with lust and the baby blue a darker navy. You’re pushed flat against the sofa in your parents living room and Charlie settles his lanky frame between your thighs as you reach up for the button on his jeans, your hand shaky because you're nervous. What if I'm not any good? What if I can't take all of him? - you struggle with your own insecurity for at least a minute, but ultimately, the need you feel outweighs everything else. ❝ I- I might not be any good.❞ you stammer against his neck, Charlie’s husky laugh warm against your skin.

His hand curls over your own, it engulfs it, and he plies your hand away, pinning it beside your head and against the stupid beige throw pillow beneath your head as he gazes at you in adoration. ❝ Aht aht.❞ he scolds, ❝ I've been waiting for this. I'm in control here, angel.❞ - and he's not kidding, either. 7 months of patience has finally paid off. ❝ You’re sure, yeah?❞ he questions, patiently waiting on the nod you give in haste not even a second later.

As his free hand pulls off your panties, they're slid down your leg to settle against dark, weathered boards. He sucks in a sharp breath as soon as he feels the warmth and the wet of your juices as they coat his palm. When he squeezes, you whine, the sound like music to his ears as thin fingers slip deep into your cunt two at a time.

The feeling is new, there's a delicious burn that has you tense at first. He explains that he has to get you ready and you moan out that you've been ready, that letting him fuck you is all you can really think about lately only to be shushed by his tongue slipped between your lips as it takes dominance over your own, clumsy but enthusiastic. His fingers prod and swirl deep inside you, probing at the soft and spongy warmth of a spot deep within that has you going wild beneath him as his fingers find the spot. Over and over, relentless.

He slips in another finger and the burn is back as you are stretched just a little more, thrusting the same as his hips as he ruts himself against your thigh and growls against the shell of your ear and the racing pulse down your neck. ❝ Oh f-fuck.❞ he groans, ❝ this is gonna feel so good, pretty girl. I promise.❞

He pulls himself up, fingers plucked free from deep inside you to pass between his lips as he licks them clean and groans at the taste of you in his mouth.

He unzips with hands that shake ever so slightly in excitement, his jeans fall to his knees, followed by black boxers, stripped away with quickness. His thick cock springs free, pink tipped and glistening with pre cum as you stare with wide eyes. ❝ Relax.❞ he coaxes as he lowers himself down and settles down into you, ❝ I'm gonna take care of you, pretty girl. You're mine now,understood?❞ his mouth latches against your neck as his cock sinks into you, each deliberate thrust making you whimper and whine, begging for more.

#charlie walker #charlie walker fanfiction #charlie walker fanfic #charlie walker x reader #charlie walker x y/n #charlie walker x you #🔞ɴғᴡ. ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ʀɪsᴋ.#( ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ʟɪsᴛ ✓ )#lazyghoulskinktober2023 #( ᴍɪɴɪ sᴇʀɪᴇs ; ᴘᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴛᴡᴏ )

33 notes · View notes