#anyway… maybe i’ll write a blurb >_<

[vampireloverz]

just got a horribly wonderful noncon fic idea teehee ^_^

[sushistyless]

mist.

Rain can be a hassle to Harry especially because he’s always late. But when dark and stormy nights lead to finding someone a bit special, he has to admit, he’s forever grateful for the dark clouds.

(writer harry, fluffy & rainy stuff, 6k+)

my masterlist.

————

Harry always had a bit of a problem with being on time.

Usually, it was his day dreaming tendencies that conveniently forced the clock to tick out of his head, drowning the noise of the outside world and opting for the vivid, lively & observant fashion he lived with in books. The entirety of each minute spent in those worlds, being in some way or another -- a moment he would dream about later.

Most of his life was filled within his own thoughts & feelings, a curiosity stemming in the depths of his mind. And ever since he could remember, he'd been this way.

Much of his teenage life and childhood was spent in the city, the daily ways of hustle bustle following each moment. He loved staying there and is grateful for the opportunities he got — don't get him wrong! — but... he craved to have a life where things weren't as overwhelming. He wouldn't say he's shy, but he liked being in his own company, an affinity to observe the intricacies of the world and the different realms of literature rather than soaking up the role of the main character on centre stage.

He always preferred the quiet, and leaned towards the introverted, solitary life. And his job as a writer suited him pretty well, he'd say. Working from home, he didn't really have any events he could formally be late to, which is why it wasn't the biggest concern to him. With a ton of pent up creativity, he found writing (and painting too, sometimes) to be a wonderful medium for him to pour out all that jazz.

His first 'inspiration' for a lifestyle that 'called out' to him was when he was quite young. He remembers his mum taking him to a small village near the hills, and how his seven year old self was utterly enthralled by the beauty and charm of the place.

"Mum! Look!" he had said, scampering around in the fields while running behind a yellow butterfly, committing each curve of its wings to his memory, with pure ecstasy fluttering through the soreness of his cheeks as a result of a smile grown so wide. His mum was amused to see the joy that radiated off him– an amount she'd never seen before.

Later that night, after he'd finally (and very reluctantly) agreed to leave the fields, she'd tucked him into bed, warmth coursing through his veins under the cuddly comforter. She whispered, telling him to never lose that spark in him. He merely responded in a soft, dreamy tone, giving her a lazy smile when met with a kiss on his forehead, "I-it's just, everything's so pretty here! Don't y'think? Jus' wanna stay here forever.''

"Yes, Harry," she laughed, in awe of her son with a gleaming sparkle in his eyes, "And maybe one day you can live some place like this, alright? But for now, sleep, sweetheart."

And he had eagerly nodded his head.

Now, it was only fitting that Harry had bought a cottage in the countryside near the foothills of a little town a few miles away from the city. And suffice to say, he lived a happy life, with inspiration seeping into each flower that grew out in the garden in front of his little cottage, blooming with vibrantly coloured flowers, and in the sunset that came each evening. Dusk, in-fact, was the most pretty sight he'd seen in his entire life he thinks. No complaints, he said when having literal cumulus clouds floating around with rays of sunshine peeking through them, almost making the scene seem scrapped right out of a renaissance painting — the only lost elements being the angels hiding behind them (and, yes, he had actually painted that too).

Love also manifested from his creative side often resulting in tons of hand drawn pictures of different varieties of butterflies and plants pinned to the walls inside his home.

Harry's life was his muse, so each time he sat to write, the words just spilled right out his heart onto the parchment, staining it in perfect handwriting.

(—Or, in a less 'aesthetic' way, mostly his hands typing away rather fast on the keys of his laptop, periodically pushing his glasses from sliding down his nose, but hey, same effect!—.)

He eventually did start writing books and many collections of poetry, so he did struggle with deadlines from time to time, but it wasn't that bad. It wasn't very bad because it didn't require his presence, he thinks, but it still required some time management. And he promises he's getting better at it.

But... we can still say that Harry had a bit of a problem with being on time.

He'd been standing in a little library located farther down the trail from his house (he still grins like an idiot at the thought of having his very own house), that stood on a street lined with shops and cafés. The scent of old books swilled in the air, vintage posters and dark rows of shelves matching the aesthetic of wooden floors and rustic trinkets hung up on the dusky-coloured walls. His fingers picked at the edges of the pages of the book, his third time reading magic through the eyes of The Little Prince.

He'd gotten only a little bit lost in it, his ring clad hand absently lifting the cup of matcha he had previously ordered on-the-go, bringing it to his lips and titling it forward, only to taste just a single drop of flavoured residue and realise that it was empty from the periodic sips he had taken with each flick and turn of a page.

Oh, he thought to himself and frowned. He hadn't realised that he finished it that fast. With a finger wedged between the closed book so as to not lose the page and cup squashed in the same arm, he fiddled to reach out to the vintage field bag slinging over his shoulder.

Finally, through the dishevelled strands of hair obstructing his vision, he managed to open the bag and get a hold of his phone from inside it. Switching it on, he pondered. It couldn't have been that long. Alas, when the screen lit up showing highlighted numbers of 7:28 pm, well, he was shocked (and glad there wasn't any matcha in his mouth, for he would have most definitely spit it out).

And, it hit him that he was late.

It wasn't much of a surprise that he would overstay past his intended time here in the library. But today was an important day.

He had ordered a record player a few months back and he was fluttering on the inside with a little spark. He'd counted down the days until it would arrive, smiling wide as he crossed down each day approaching it, and promised himself early this morning that he'd come and read only for a little bit, then easily go home before 7 pm so he would be there when the precious package was delivered.

Music was a big part of his life, of course. It helped him write, helped him imagine. Helped to dream a little more. And maybe he could even go as far as to say it was like fuel to him. The idea of his suited songs played on the vinyl was enough to excite him.

With widened eyes, he quickly shoved the phone back in, then flustered, taking steps towards the door. He was excited– sure, but he couldn't help and felt a little more doubtful and wary of the delicate player being properly delivered than gently held in his safe arms. It was expensive to say the least (top of the line and yada yada) and although it wasn't his yet, he already deemed it to be his precious possession.

On a normal day, warm, slanted rays of the sun would reflect on his face through the glass windows as he stepped from behind the cover of the thick shelves– but today was gloomy. A thick, dark blanket of clouds was spread across the sky, leaving no place for sunlight to pass through.

With having completed the satisfaction of saying a goodbye! to the store owner — Miss Akane, a kind and eccentric old woman who Harry had gotten quite close to after tasting a lot of her homemade sweets — he strode towards the door, skillfully pushing it open against the windy, mildly chilly air.

And that was when Harry realised that he really needed to hurry.

It was true when he thought today was going to be a rainy day. It'd be only a matter of a few seconds before the scent of wet mud would linger in the air. He walked quickly on the trail towards the mountain side, relaying one last glance to the line of shops. Harry usually caught sight of a few people walking down the street but it seems as though everyone knows that the weather is going to be stormy. He'd grown accustomed to the view by now, having moved to the countryside just a few years prior.

The fitted burgundy coloured chequered pants covering his legs, flared and shifted tightly against his calves, while his torso carried a very lovely sage-green vest, all bundled along with his bookbag tucked underneath his overcoat, effectively shielding him and his possessions from the heavy breeze and potential rain.

As he saw the soil being gradually dotted with raindrops and the plants around him weighing down with the trickling water, he knew it was even more important to reach home fast.

——-

Harry's footsteps become more sunken, the trail having become mucky and threateningly prone to little puddles as he nears his cottage. The rain races with increased velocity, the sound of it hitting the ground and rumbles of thunder providing a soundtrack to the activities and errands of his current life.

Harry reaches close to home, and he had initially thought he would rush in and worry himself, examining the much awaited wet box, because the past few deliveries he had got weren't very considerately delivered. He thought it would be sitting out, left in the harsh rain.

But really, he's confused.

He brings up his hand, the tip of his finger swiping out a drop of rain that clung to his eyelash, already squinted eyes straining even more as if to make sure what he saw through the rain was reality.

Instead of seeing a drenched parcel, he finds someone sitting on his partially covered porch, her hazy gaze fixed on the entwined hands in her lap. The light, pastel amethyst coloured shirt she's wearing grows the slightest bit transparent — not entirely soaking through, but sleeves wet enough to loosely cling onto her body — the expanse covering her torso accentuating her collarbone region. Her hair sticks to the side of her forehead, cheekbones glistening under the influence of the rain. Eyelashes frame her profile from the view he's provided with, cheeks seeming hollow like she bites down on them. A coat is draped over some large box on the right, evidently wanting to keep whatever it was dry.

She certainly doesn't seem like a delivery person, the lack of a uniform making it clear that a courier was not what she was, only adding to Harry's confusion.

Hm?

The little shade up front does little to barricade the rain as it slants towards her, the entire scene looking like her mere presence was magnetic to the forces of nature.

The ideas of why she was here and what his reply would be start noting through his head like pieces of paper being crumpled with each possibility that came up, clearly hesitant in the conversation that he already started in his head. Licking his lips, he readies himself to speak. What should he say?— the lack of socialising with new people peeking through the flurry of jumbled words projecting in his mind.

He gulps, moving closer until he's at a good distance from her, pace slowing down distinctively as his heels dig into the soft ground below. Finally, he musters up the courage to speak, inhaling and exhaling before flicking off a chocolate coloured curl that weighed onto his face, curtaining his vision. "H-hi."

The girl's figure immediately perks up, a sharp intake of breath drawn past her lips, clearly taken by surprise as her face snaps up to him. Her irises have a wild essence in them, widening as they meet his own & flickering around, taking in his features before spewing words of her own, "Oh! Hi."

She clears her throat, posture now becoming straighter, her right hand comes up to toy with a crystal pendant adorning her neck. "Uh," she flustered innocently, confused while forming her question, "Do you live here?" Her body turns completely towards her right, eyes effectively focused on the door of the cottage, giving Harry an obvious reference. Her voice is low & fragile, with woven delicacy as if she's afraid that if she gets louder, it might break glass. Harry's sure that if it was any softer, it would've been completely muted out by the echoing roars of the colliding clouds.

Harry's eyes follow her line of sight, nodding his head at her questioning, "I... I do, yes. Can I help y'with something?" He adds on in the end with sincerity & curiosity edging his tone, still comprehending her sweet voice and sudden presence. He hardly got guests, and if he did, they were mostly his family flying out on occasions to see him. But they too dropped in once in a blue moon. He was, let's just say, deep within an area of solitude. So he was more than shocked when he found someone he'd never known quite literally sitting at his doorstep.

There's a moment of silence in their conversation, giving Harry's gaze enough time to wander off & examine the object placed beside her. The jacket had ridden up at the side, a tiny sliver of the picture plastered over the box making his eyebrows knit the slightest bit.

The girl, whose eyes are mostly just fixated on Harry, immediately notices and clicks out of the dazed dream as she fumbles through the blurry rain, "Oh, right!"

Harry observes as she peeps out, standing to her height, hands already beginning to unveil the surprise under the full of her jacket, which's outer surface is glistening with the water, while the inner remains dry.

"I think... this is yours?" Her voice tilts in pitch nearing the end of her sentence, questioning him with unknown facts once Harry's eyes land on a package with a familiar picture stamped on.

He remembers the same photograph that was displayed on the online site he ordered his turntable from, a light beige colour coating the artistic marvel. With the stickered details of his address pinned up top, the edges of the box had become a little moist and worn out, but overall in good condition.

His features contort to realisation, "Oh— oh, yeah! Thank you s'much." He says with a heart full of gratitude & sudden confusion, stepping closer to finally land on the wooden shaft of the porch and scurry beside her.

She sheepishly nods at the acknowledgement, busying herself to pick it up, the box seeming entirely too large for her arms to hold. Harry quickly swoops in while giving her a soft, grateful look, enough to not evade her personal bubble, but assist her as he quickly supports it from the other side. Her lips tug slightly at the edges, the moment giving her time to take in the ringlets of hair that stick to his forehead and making her smile subconsciously grow the tiniest bit wider as he retrieves it completely.

"I was actually just passing by here when the delivery guy happened to catch me, and assumed that I lived here. I tried to tell him— really — but he was in a rush and he... just kept it and left," she rambles, managing to sneak a quiet smile in there, the cold shaft of wind making her shudder for a moment.

There's a moment of hesitancy, the slightest second of silence wallowing in the air as she collects her words and gathers to deliver him information that might ease his apparent confusion.

"I didn't want to leave it like that 'cause it seemed pretty important. I knocked again but nobody answered, so I only stayed to make sure it was alright until someone came by." Her voice decreases in amplitude as her sentence progresses, speaking shyly as her irises stutter on Harry's frame for a second too long. Explaining the entire situation to the best of her abilities while still tripping over her sentences, Harry offers no response because, well...

What the fuck?

Harry is... at a loss for words, to put it simply.

She did all that? For a simple parcel? For him?

Initially, he'd thought she was waiting there for some help she might need. Then again, everything that had happened was all a jumbled mess in his head — the thoughts in his mind unclear to himself. He didn't know what he was expecting when he arrived and saw her in the first place.

But, she was just so sweet. The entire thought was so incredibly kind, and— it just swelled his heart with so much joy and gratitude. A lot of people have helped him throughout his life, but nobody has ever been this sweet or innocently considerate. He's just on cloud nine with the idea of being worthy of all that, with no part of his brain telling him how to react.

He thinks that among the pouring rain and rumbling chaos, he had the honour of encountering a literal angel.

When he doesn't respond immediately, worry quickly fills her eyes, "I-I'm sorry if it's not what I should've done, I just thought..."

"No, no! Not at all! I jus—" He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, dissipating her worries as she visibly releases a breath. Adoration swimming through his irises, a butterfly induced feeling fills his tummy when he catches her wistful gaze drifting into the window of his soul.

The rain danced like spray, buzzing off the wooden roof & echoing through his ears, the sound of some drops sharper than the other- growing clearer and heavier by the second like the rhythm of his heart. The wind murmured to the trees, a whirring accompanying the puddles that began to plink with the hammering intensity of the rain, almost pleading him to say something— anything.

"That's just s'sweet of you. Thank you so much. You didn't have to do that, but y'did. And 'm so, so sorry I made y'wait out here..."

He is filled with gratitude but he also feels terribly guilty. It was because of him that she had to wait out for so long. It was chilly out and to be sitting out for that long under the icy weather, a sniffle would surely rift into a full blown cold. It's now that he notices the goosebumps trailed along her skin as she crosses both her arms in front of her chest in an effort to keep warm.

"No, don't worry! It's– it's okay. Really." She spares maybe a second of full eye contact with him, giving him a soft smile on catching the praises before casting off her gaze, focusing on the mucky shoes covering her feet as the droplets trickling off it caught the light. "The rain's quite pretty anyway."

Harry offers her an easy (but still regretful) smile at that. It was nice of her to try and console him even through small sentences.

"And... you like vinyls?" she converses curiously once her hands are free again, standing still with her fingers intertwined in her front once again. Harry can't help but wonder if it's a nervous tick she has, and he also can't help but smile a little at the thought, cherishing how he does the same sometimes.

"Yeah, jus' have some kind of charm, y'know?" The words just slip through his mouth like he's talking to himself, stifling his beam as his face drops to face the ground for a second, the faintest dimples indenting the apple of his cheeks and a simmer of warmth reaching them as he gives it his best to not crack into a fit of smiles. "Do y'like 'em?" He looks back at her.

The attempt at making his excitement subdued instils a kind of joy across her face, a honey swept tone coating her words as she replies, "Oh, yeah! Been wanting to get one for myself actually, but they're pretty expensive. Promise I wasn't stealing yours though." She chuckles a little easier now, knuckling at her eyes as a drop of water seems to latch onto her eyelid.

"I believe you. And trus' me, I've been saving up for it for months now, so y'not alone." He reciprocates her laugh, keeping it casual, but his mind internally goes through a shot of excitement.

"It's no–" she starts, a loud streak of thunder rumbling much too loud, cutting off the conversation as her widened eyes flit off to wander in the distance. Harry mimics her actions, the noise enough to demand anyone's attention. Her lips part at the loud sound, teeth digging into the plushy lower one, while the thinnest crease of worry lines her forehead. "But, um, I think I should probably head back now. The rain is only getting worse..."

It's now Harry's turn to worry, concerned because the last thing he could ever want for anyone is to walk back during a growling, full-blown thunderstorm. "Are y'sure? You're most welcome to come in..." he trails off, feet trudging against the cold floorboard as he shuffles towards the door, "It looks pretty bad out there. Y'can wait here until it calms down— only if you're comfortable, of course." He adds the last part quickly, speaks with sincerity- a genuine request on his part. And honestly, it's the least he can do. He knows that it was after all, her choice to wait here, but he still feels shitty knowing that he could have reached earlier and avoided her from all this trouble.

Her gaze is still downcast, an expression emulating the ghost of a smile, seeming like she's mulling over the options in her head, while her hands work to wriggle the coat back on her shoulders. "Oh no, it's fine! I love looking at the interior of houses —" she looks back at him with a breathy smile and a bit of hope arises in Harry, wishing she'd say yes so he would have some company- even if it was only for some time. She continues, "— But I really don't mean to intrude. Thank you though," she continues with a soft gaze, an apologetic undertone lacing her words.

His heart deflates when she declines his offer, the slight tug of his lips dulling only the slightest bit, yet understanding that it was her choice based on what she felt would be safe for her, but he hates to think that she'd feel like a burden if she were to stay.

"Please, you won't be intruding in the slightest. Honestly, s'the least I can do. Please feel free to come in, it's no trouble at all. Again, I'm so, so sorry." All he really hoped was that he could spend even a little time with her because he knew there was a possibility that he would likely never meet her again. But, if she felt it was safer to go her own way, he would respect that, of course, and just continue to think back to the small conversation they once had.

She laughs a little louder now, surprisingly to Harry as if enthralled by the amount of gratefulness and (un)necessary apologies he smothers her with, "Hey," she whispers, "I waited here voluntarily, so you really don't need to apologise."

His internal sorrow evades a bit when she makes an effort to lighten his mood, the tiniest blush threatening to creep up his cheeks.

"I know, 'm sorry—"

"Oops, there you go again."

"—Shit. I promise, I didn't mean to. I'm so so—"

"Sorry?" She completes for him, grinning like Harry's done the cutest thing and in fact– giggles. Proper giggles.

Can you believe that?

And if Harry couldn't take his mind off her presence, he surely can't now, wondering what he's done to have the honour of hearing the sound bless his ears. It's pouring, raining like cats and dogs, but this conversation takes him to a place of happiness where he imagines the sun would shine with the warmest, most yellow & buttery orange tinged glow. He just met her for stars' sake— he doesn't even know her name! But... he knows that he likes being the reason she laughs. He likes making people laugh in general, some kind of satisfaction hiding deep in his own smile when they break into laughter, but he reckons she was just much sweeter to witness.

Agh. He's such a sap, he knows... but he still means every word. Besides, it's in the safety of his mind, it's okay.

"Yeah... that." He bites his lip, hoping she wouldn't catch him avoiding her gaze. "Y'sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll be okay," she hums low, words drowning in the sound of the thunder as it penetrates through the grey clouds once again. Buttoning up the most part of her coat and descending down the porch, she shoots him a smile, a small 'bye!' accompanying her actions of waving at him.

"Bye! Please be careful!" he adds on. It felt strange. He didn't want to say goodbye. The conversation hadn't for a minute felt forced and it's... something he hasn't experienced in a long time. He wished it would last longer.

"I will, thank you! It was really nice meeting you!" He watches as her figure teeters down the clearing that led to his house, looking back at him from over her shoulders.

"You too," Harry mutters, a smile taunting his lips at the sight of her doing the same all while prancing about in the rain. But as she leaves his line of sight, he wonders. Would they ever even meet again? A sigh escapes through his mouth, the slopes of his shoulders softening with a pout that stretches across his face. And oh, he even forgot to ask her her name. It was too late to do that now. It'd just be plain weird if he ran out in the rain and startled her for a silly question.

So he's a bit bummed. Still, he's glad that he even had the chance to encounter her.

Turning around with bitten lips after successfully manoeuvring the package so he could hold it comfortably in one arm, he shuffled to reach for his key, pulling it out and swiftly unlocking the door. As soon as he steps in, his senses are waded through by the pillowy warmth of his house, lofting with the homely smell of cinnamon and vanilla. It's nice to be able to come to such a lovely home everyday, and he's so grateful for that. Water drops drip down his clothes, pit-pattering against the wooden floors. A thud noise resonates through the room as he shuts the door, the cold ruffles of wind effectively shut out while keeping the toasty atmosphere inside undisturbed. A little fireplace decorates the corner of the generously sized living room, green plants sitting across the window panes that are curated with occasional flowers here and there. The sheer curtains don't do much to cover the view of the rustic French windows, earthly tears trickling down the glass as he gazes through the fluid stillness upon the field outside– the one that's usually bright and green but now runs dark & deep with water, the attire of raindrops looking like serrations of lines cutting through the wind.

He's quick to discard his drenched coat, opting to hang it on the hook beside the dark ocher coloured console that stands in the foyer-like entryway, carefully placing the box on the cabinet. Littered throughout the pastel coloured walls were various delicately framed paintings– most of which he had made, and some being his versions of the works of Van Gogh (big fan he was)-- all very special, having given him some kind of inspiration to write in the past.

Running a heavy hand through his hair, he shook his head, the rebellious drops of water splattering into the air. Stumbling to the middle of the room, he all but threw himself on the feathery hold of his couch. Melting into the softness instantly, his posture relaxes, as the brown of his bag- a stark contrast to the beige of the couch lands with a splat beside him. Eyes closing ceremoniously once his head rests on the top of the couch, the pad of his fingers rub the inner corners of his eyelids. Realising he has contacts on, he frowns and stops, also thanking his past self for wearing contacts– the rain would've just fogged up his glasses and he preferred to know where he was walking. Plus, he would've not seen her very properly and that indeed would've been a pity.

Deciding that the itchiness was probably a sign for him to remove his contacts, he lifts himself off the couch and makes his way towards the bathroom.

It's just as Harry's removed his first lens that he jolts at the sound of the doorbell. With half blurry vision, all the more confusion sparkling through his veins and messier-than-ever-hair, his lips part. A second later he scurries to the front door. Opening it up the slightest, he swears his heart drops to his stomach. He can't see all that well but when the familiar voice calls out to him again, he can't help but smile at the knowledge of who it is.

"Is that offer of yours still up?"

Harry's never been happier for having a problem with time, and greeting a kind girl at his front door through blurry vision and unruly hair.

————

"Have you really made all of these paintings? They're... beautiful." It makes Harry's heart hurt at the enthusiasm Y/N shows for something he does. That's another he's learned, the sweet girl's name is Y/N. It suits her really well, he realises.

"Yeah, s'all me," he shyly smiles, setting the mug of chamomile tea down on the centre table in front of her. She's sat on his couch, a blanket wrapped around her form to keep extra toasty although she'd declined the offer in favour of the room already being warm enough. But Harry had insisted and pulled out his favourite, fluffiest blanket.

"More than beautiful actually, they're just— you're really talented." She gushes, shifting her gaze from the acrylic pieces hung on the wall to the tea now placed in front of her, accompanied with a soft whisper of an oh, thank you.

"'M glad you think so." His stifled smile stretches wider on his cheeks, little indents beginning to form a dip in them, "I think, art is just so fun to do. Being able to express yourself in paintings, music, film, and of course, writing. Words are so incredible." His voice considerably lowers as he progresses, realising how he's started to rant a bit.

"Oh," Y/N gazed at him fondly, amusement tinting her eyes, "So, I've somehow managed to stumble in the home of a young, mysterious artist - in the middle of the fields - while there's a beautiful storm raging outside, then?"

"You make me sound way cooler than I am," he  laughs silently, fiddling with his rings, "that is a cute idea for a novel though."

"It is cool. Maybe I'll become a writer one day just to write about this."

"I'll join you. Co-writers we'll be," he gleamed at her, the hidden knowledge that he could very well begin plotting a novel at this very moment shucked to the back of his head.

"That would be perfect."

—————

The storm brewed the entire night but eased off by early morning, the night spent with soft words exchanged, and conversations that flowed like the streams of rivers outside. Harry swears he felt genuinely the happiest he had felt in a while.

He also would admit that he quite enjoyed when just before Y/N left, he revealed he was a writer himself. She blushed, jaw dropped because she had been prattling on and expanding on the 'Mysterious Artist in The Mountains' arc, in a pretty... amateur way she had said.

"Well," she giggled, trying to hold a serious face, "Mr. Styles, I shall take your leave. Now that I am presented with the information that you are a wonderful writer by profession, I expect thy to write some poetry about me the next time we meet."

"You should certainly expect it," he played along, bowing to her slightly.

"God, no, I'm joking," she laughed back, "but it really was nice to meet you, Harry. Thank you for everything." Gathering her belongings in one arm, she moved to stand at the threshold of the front door, Harry's presence following behind her.

She was just so sweet, Harry thought. Her smile bought with it something so honey like, a warm ray of light engulfing the room— and the sparkle in her eyes, kindness. She was beautiful too. The kind of beauty that wasn’t so conventional, more so the beauty that came with love that you simply had to have grown in with each second spent together.

"T'was a pleasure meeting you too, m'lady." He continued, a sweet smile still coating his face as he guided her out. (And although she was joking about the poetry, Harry had begun thinking of the same idea before she even proposed it.) Y/N simply reciprocated his expression, silence between them while the birds chirped in the back now that the rain had cleared out.

"Hope to meet you again… soon." She added quickly in the end and looked up to him with a glee in her eyes, speaking softly, “Bye, Harry."

A sense of déjà vu took over as he remembered the scene similar to the one he experienced a few hours back.

"Take care, love," he said, beaming when he saw her walk down the porch and look over her shoulder, excited for when they’d plan to spend more time together.

Except this time, he would happily declare that he knew her name too.

————

SOO, here is writer harry!! honestly, I started out with this piece like months ago and only finished it recently lmsiehdsjhs and I wasn’t sure if I should post it, but here we gooo :(( very soft vibes, I think. writer h is just like that.

thank you ever so much for reading :(( I really really hope you enjoyed!! <333

read more of my work on my masterlist! see you on the other side ;)

[tacodestroyeravenger]

Dark Matter Supernatural AU full lineup

Or what happens when a shapeshifter, synthetic being, werewolf, dragon, fae, and a vampire wake up with amnesia on a ship?

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hii congrats on 5k!! i love your writing ! if you’re still celebrating could i request a carmy blurb where maybe you’re syd’s besite and carmy has this biggggest crush on you (im talking this mf is Yearning) and she gets on him sooo hard about it like teasing him and reader and him end up together ? TIA <3

Not So Secret.

carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - cursing.

written for my 5k celebration- post here, masterlist here, inbox here.

“You’re gonna stare a hole through her fuckin’ head.”

“Shut up.”

Richie laughs, following Carmens eyeline to where it’s fixed on you.

You’re stood in the restaurant with Sydney, both of you giggling at something she’s showing you on her phone. When you look up, you smile at Carmy, all soft and sweet and like butter wouldn’t melt. He almost melts, a puddle of yearning on the kitchen floor.

Sugar appears next to the two of you, holding out a piece of paper.

“This is a really rough draft of what we kind of want them to look like. Obviously you have full control, but this is kind of the vibe?”

When Carmen mentioned wanting a more personal touch on the menus, Sydney quickly offered your services. You’re the most artistic person she knows, gifted with naturally gorgeous handwriting that almost looks like calligraphy. Plus, she knows how much everyone at The Bear likes you, having been a part of their transformation. It’s a win - win.

“Yeah, I get you. So you want the title words like Dessert in more of a cursive, and then the actual dishes and descriptions in a typeface?”

“Yes! Do your thing. We trust you.”

She gives you a side hug, careful not to hit you with her bump.

“I’m gonna need some nice paper, and probably a new calligraphy pen so I can start from scratch. I’m gonna head to the craft store, and I’ll be back.”

“Carmy will go with you!”

Richie shouts it from the doorway, where he’s been not so subtly watching the conversation. Carmy blushes, clearly caught off guard.

“He needs to go to the craft store too, right Cousin? Good. Go. Bye!”

Carmy’s practically being pushed out the door, uncomfortable and flustered. You smile reassuringly, grabbing your bag and walking over to your car.

“You’re okay with me driving?”

“Course. Shouldn’t I be?”

You laugh, and he can’t help but grin, the sound settling nicely into his ribcage to warm him up.

“I’m a good driver, I promise. Despite what Sydney might say.”

He looks worried but gets in anyway, ever trusting you and anything you do.

He can’t help but sneak glances at you as you drive. You’re completely focused on the road in front, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you concentrate. Carmy feels heat bloom across his chest at the action, wishing he could reach out and release it for you before you draw blood.

A text chimes through the air, startling you both. You press the button on your steering wheel so your car can read the message out loud.

From Sydney: Carmy. Tell her immediately or I’ll lock you in the walk in freezer. Sick of you acting like a lovesick puppy. This is your chance. Don’t blow it, asshole. We’re all tired.

Both of you freeze, your hands tightening on the wheel. Carmy wants to throw himself out of the moving car, but decides against it at the last minute.

You pull the car into the craft store parking lot, choosing a space and yanking the handbrake on. You turn to him, looking at him for the first time since the bombshell.

He’s blushed all over, chest heaving and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. You almost want to reach out and release it for him, before he draws blood.

“Carmy.”

“I think, uh, yeah, I just - that was clearly sent to the wrong person. Not meant for you.”

You laugh, suddenly, and it spooks Carmy so much that he jumps out of his skin.

“Yeah, Carm. That I figured.”

He laughs with you then, unsure and nervous. You reach out and place a hand on his knee, trying to calm him down. It just makes his heart lurch.

“What’s Syd talking about? Tell me what?”

He looks down at his lap, hands knotted together.

“I think you know.”

“Wanna hear you say it,” you whisper.

He finds the courage to meet your gaze, taking a deep breath.

“I like you. So much. I can’t stop talking about you to anyone and everyone that’ll listen - to the point that everyone at The Bear gives me so much shit for it. Sydney won’t get off my back, either. She says I’m ‘yearning’.”

You chuckle, rubbing patterns into the material of his jeans with your thumb.

“They’ve all made bets,” he continues, “about if I’ll ever tell you or not.”

“Who bet on you? And who against?”

“Syd and Richie against me. Marcus too. Tina and Sugar are on my side. Not sure why.”

“Wanna make Tina and Sugar some money?”

He quirks a brow questioningly, eyes going wide when you lean over the centre console and plant your hands on either side of his face. You’re so close to him that your breaths tangle together, one set of lungs working overtime.

“Kiss me, Carm.”

He doesn’t think twice, closing the gap and pressing his lips to yours. You tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. His hands find your back, tugging you into him as much as the limited space allows.

You whine when he bites at your lip gently, and he has to pull away to take a steadying breath before he passes out.

“You should get your eyes checked.”

He tries to process for a moment.

“Huh?”

“You must be blind if you can’t see how much I like you, Carm. How much I’ve always liked you.”

He grins at you, bright and white, and you shake your head before leaning in to kiss him again.

When you don’t make it back into the restaurant that day, everyone has never been happier to not see the both you.

[stevie-petey]

pretty girl

“Unfair. I was at least–” he breathes out sharply as you begin to suck lazily just below his jaw. “I was gentle, pretty girl. This just, fuck, this feels like torture.” “Shush and let me kiss you, Stevie.”

Summary: steve has to get his daily kiss quota in somehow, right?

Rating: general, makeout session, cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, slight neck kink if u arent into that, mild makeout session (so so so mild tho) - not proofread, i just kinda wrote so pls ignore typos lmao

Words: 1.1k

Before you swing in: hello ! i was in a bit of a lovey dovey mood, and while i adore writing come home, i simply couldnt bring myself to write more repressed feelings tonight. so, heres a quick lil boyfriend!steve blurb. it isnt at all correlated with come home (although if u squint ... maybe) its just me being so engrossed in my current crush and needing to be severely kissed. rip. anyways, enjoy !

-

Every night, Steve throws rocks outside your window. 

The rocks pang softly against the glass, one after another, as they bounce harmlessly on their endeavor to get your attention. 

Every night, you answer. 

“What ails you tonight, Harrington?” You’ve opened your window now, leaning your head out so that you can see the boy standing below. 

He winks at you. “The usual.”

“Hm,” you rest your elbows against the wooden panel encasing your window. “How many do you need this time?”

“Hard to say, but if I had to guess… A million, honestly.”

You laugh. “A million, huh?”

“Maybe even more.” Steve smiles up at you, admiring how the moonlight frames your pretty face, making it even softer than he ever thought possible. It takes his breath away for a second, knowing how the face staring down at him is the same face that stares up at him whenever morning comes. 

“Give me five minutes, lovely.”

Steve smiles at the nickname, letting it warm his face as well as his bones. “I’ll go warm up the car.”

You wave, blowing the boy a quick kiss, before closing your window to go over to your dresser. The top drawer has long come to contain your nighttime adventure outfits with Steve. A simple pair of sweatpants and his hoodie that you stole years ago but never gave back. 

He knows you have it still, but you know he secretly loves seeing you wear it. 

As soon as you’re ready, slippers and all, you quietly run down your stairs so you don’t disturb your parents and unlock the front door. The lock clicks harshly against the night’s quietness, but with one smooth turn you manage to undo the lock and open the door. 

Steve, true to his word, is waiting in his car with the heat blasting, just the way you like it. 

It’s winter, early January, and school hasn’t quite started back up yet. 

The second you approach the car, Steve gets out and walks to the passenger side so that he can open it before you even touch its handle. You scoff at the overdramatic mannerisms, but blush nonetheless. 

“I can open my own door, Steve.”

He shrugs. “Sure, but you’re beautiful and I love you.”

The words fall freely from his lips, and you intertwine your hand behind his neck and pull his lips flushed against yours. He hums into it, pulls you so that your chests are engulfed together and your legs stumble and enclose around his. It’s messy, your other hand clutches at Steve’s jacket and he relishes in the way your knuckles tighten around him. 

“One down, a million more to go.” Steve whispers against your lips. 

You laugh, throwing your head back and he watches the sight of it all. How your neck lengthens as you laugh, the way your hair cascades behind you and the way your eyes crinkle shut. You put on a whole show for him, and he can’t get enough of it. 

“You really think we can get through a million kisses tonight?” You ask, nudging your nose against the length of Steve’s jaw. 

He shivers. “Got a few ways I think we can manage that.”

You pull away now, though you keep your hand at the nape of his neck. “At least take a girl on a date first.”

“I’m trying, pretty girl.” He gestures toward the car, its engine humming softly. You roll your eyes, but when Steve finally opens the passenger door, you reluctantly let go of him and sit down. “Atta girl, Y/N.”

Before you can huff at him for the nickname, Steve gently closes the door and heads over to his own driver’s side. He opens the door, the warm air escaping a bit, and as soon as Steve is in the car he tugs at your hoodie (his hoodie) and once again you’re kissing. 

It’s longer this time, languid and lingering. He brings a hand up to your cheek and his thumb strokes the high point in a fluid back and forth motion. You lean deeper into him, your own hands coming up to his chest as if you could bring him any closer to you. 

Steve nips at your bottom lip and you let him in, you always let him in. 

You gasp as he sucks on the lip and you feel him smile at your reaction. With one hand still caressing your cheek, his other hand comes up to the base of your neck. It’s warm, he’s always so warm, and his calloused fingers find their usual place, splayed across both sides of your neck. His palm settles just above your collarbones and your breath hitches. 

“Steve…” You exhale his name, as if it were a prayer. 

He pulls away a little, his eyes a molten honey color in the moonlight. “Yes, pretty girl?”

You turn your head and press a kiss against the hand still on your cheek. “Three down, 999,999,997 to go.”

“Make that four,” Steve presses a kiss to your nose, then your cheek, then to the tips of your eyelashes. “Now eight.”

You giggle as he presses another kiss to your temple and then your ear. He’s everywhere, now, peppering kisses on every inch of skin he can find. “And here, and here, and here…”

Steve goes down to your neck now, his nose trailing down the bare skin, making you shiver, and his kisses are so soft. Despite his teasing and the hold he still has on your neck, his lips leave a trail so soft and sanguine against your skin that they burn like whiskey. 

He reaches for your hand now, bringing the length of your arm up to his face, and just before he presses even more kisses against you, you laugh and pull your arm back. Steve starts to whine, unhappy with his kisses being interrupted, but you comb your fingers through his hair. 

“Seems unfair to make you do all the work, lovely.”

Steve’s lips are red and swollen from earlier, they almost distract you from his response. “Shush and let me kiss you.”

He tries to duck his head back down to your neck for more, but you stop him. “Nuh-uh. My turn.”

Before Steve can argue some more, you tug at his jacket, and because you’ve caught him off guard, he falls so far forward that his neck is open for the taking. You press your own kisses against it, connecting the moles that litter his skin with a kiss, and Steve exhales shakily as you do so. 

“Unfair. I was at least–” he breathes out sharply as you begin to suck lazily just below his jaw. “I was gentle, pretty girl. This just, fuck, this feels like torture.”

“Shush and let me kiss you, Stevie.”

Steve’s hand tightens around your neck as the other flies up to your head, pressing you further into his neck as you suck on a spot that he particularly likes. “Yeah… Fuck, okay. Shutting up now.”

-

⌑ writing masterlist

[hausofwoo]

strapped | park seonghwa

pairing: seonghwa x afab reader

word count: 612

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, literally just a pwp blurb, seonghwa sucking a strap on, sub!seonghwa, begging, finger sucking, hair pulling, use of petname (sweetheart)

author's note: i had the thought of seonghwa sucking a strap-on pop into my head and i had to write it out asap. very short but juicy! there will be plenty more sub!seonghwa fics from me but here's just a little taste....

seonghwa is so desperate to please you.

he sits on his knees on your shared bedroom floor, hands tied behind his back and head tilted back, looking up at you standing over him. his skin is glistening with a sheer layer of sweat and his hair is a ruffled mess from all your pulling and tugging. he’s free of all of his clothing, but his erection throbs in need.

“please,” seonghwa begs. “i’ll do whatever you want, just please touch me.”

“not yet, sweetheart,” you say, running your fingertips along the side of his jaw. his eyes are fixated on you with pupils completely blown. you place your fingers on his soft lips, prompting him to immediately open and take them in his mouth. he runs his tongue along your digits before sucking on them, eye contact persisting. you replace your two fingers with your thumb, prying open his mouth so he can take your strap.

“do something for me first, baby,” you say, watching as he lays his tongue flat for you. “suck.”

you guide your strap’s tip to his mouth, and he takes it eagerly. his plump lips enclose around the tip and gradually takes the length. he reaches the base of the strap, deep-throating it. he hums in satisfaction. he continues to bob up and down, sucking. he’s making a fucking mess, with spit covering his lips and dripping down his chin. he doesn’t seem to care anyway, with his muffled moans filling up the room.

he pulls off the strap completely, a string of saliva still connecting to his lips. he drags his tongue on the underside, making his way back to the tip before taking it into his mouth again.

yeah, maybe getting your strap sucked doesn’t physically stimulate anything for you, but seonghwa loves putting on a show for you. he loves to be degraded by you, to feel pathetic under your touch. something completely takes over him, and all he can do is follow your every order. he’s like a puppy; just so fucking eager. you love it too, being able to control what he does. it comes so naturally for you to push him around, and it only makes it ten times hotter when you notice it makes him twitch.

you grip his hair, pushing his mouth as far down on the strap he can go. his eyes roll back and he lets out a loud moan onto the toy. you yank him back off, watching his half-lidded gaze up at you as spit spills out of his swollen red lips. the saliva drops onto his crotch, right on the tip of his aching cock.

“oh fuck,” he groans, knitting his eyebrows together. his hisses, partly from pain, and the other part from pleasure. this whole time, during the teasing and the foreplay and now while giving your strap head, he’s been painfully hard. you haven’t touched him once, and it’s starting to feel excruciating. he lifts his hips, thrusting his leaking cock into the air, searching for some sort of stimulation. he squirms under your hand, leaning his head back and whining. he looks back up at you with probably the most pathetic look you’ve ever seen.

“you want me to touch you, don’t you, baby?” you say, moving your grip from his hair to caress his face.

“please,” seonghwa says, tears welling up in his eyes. his hips continue to thrust in the air slowly, cock twitching. “i’ve been so good…”

“you have been good, haven’t you?” you say. “let me take care of you…”

a/n: guys don't hate me i know it's short!!!! i was on vacay in chicago to see ateez and it gave me inspo and i had to write it out before i lost my mind. i have another fic in the works rn but i wanted to release this so u bitches had something while u wait lol

✰taglist✰ @skz1-4-3 @oddracha @luvbit3z @tunafishyfishylike @seomisaho @haizbby @hoeforalbedo @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna

add me to the taglist!

[grapejuicebrat]

“brutal”

PAIRING: neighbour! badboy!harry x innocent!reader

SUMMARY: you are tired of your image of an angel. you want to be a disappointment and your incredibly hot neighbour is happy to help you get spoiled.

SYNOPSIS: you’re a bad idea but i like bad ideas

NOTES: i plan it as a bunch of blurbs. like different times when harry helped reader to get spoiled. if you’ll like this concept i’ll think about writing a whole story or i’ll continue writing blurbs about neighbour! harry. it’s up to you. anyway enjoy!

WORD COUNT: 716

my masterlist

“No, angel, i’m just telling you that you’re too sweet for this shit”

“Stop calling me that! I’ll pay you for this, how much do you want?” you start taking money out of your bag, counting the bills. “Or are you like a guy from books? You want a kiss or a good fuck?”

“Actually that’s a good idea, I didn’t think about that” he laughs. “I don’t want to be a boy who will spoil a good girl, you know?”

“I want you to be that boy. I don’t know who can i ask for this except you. Please, help me. I’ll do anything”

“Anything?”

“Anything”

“Alright, come in”

How did you end up in this situation? That’s easy to explain. Harry is your incredibly hot neighbour who you think is the perfect bad boy. He is a disappointment and you want to be a disappointment too.

For your whole life you were known as a nerd, as a good girl who never smokes, never drinks alcohol and never goes out with guys. I mean isn’t it boring? Constantly hearing that you will never do anything wrong. Obviously you wanted to prove the opposite, but didn’t know where to start. That’s when you met Harry.

Harry had just moved into the apartment opposite and you noticed him immediately. His appearance literally screamed that he was a bad guy. Then you found out that he makes money from fights without rules. And sells weed. And makes parties every weekend. Definitely a good guy.

“So what do we have? You want to be bad, to prove that you’re not a good girl, right?” Harry sits down in a chair and looks straight into your eyes. you are standing at the door, not knowing what to do. your heart is beating too hard, your hands are shaking with excitement. “Don’t be shy, come sit here”

“Where? In your lap?” Actually you can’t say you are against this idea. Quite opposite. What can you say? He is straight from the books. Like Hardin Scott from After. Those arms, tattoos, green eyes. God, if you weren’t a virgin you wouldn’t be so shy. Maybe, just maybe you could offer him yourself but you aren’t in a book. You can’t do this because for him it will be just a one night stand and for you it will be something more than a sex.

“Cute. Only if you want though” harry grins. It makes him laugh how sht you stand in place, not knowing what’s going on with you. “Sit on a couch. Gotta make a deal with you”

you nodded your head and sat down on the couch, away from Harry. Lowering your head down, you begin to twitch your fingers, trying to stop the trembling in your hands.

“What do you want in return?”

“A promise” he simply says

“What promise?” you ask in surprise, not knowing where he is leading.

“if you are bad for others, I want you to remain good for me.”

“what do you mean?” You tilt your head down in confusion, eyes widening.

“you’ll understand later”

Harry grins. Oh, he’ll have so much fun with you.

part 2

Don’t forget to reblog and share your thoughts! x

if you want to be tagged in the next blurb, please write in the comments. also try to guess what’ll be next part about:))

[nadvs]

hi I’m current obsessed with swte universe 😭

would you write a blurb showing us how rafe and the reader dealt with the pregnancy? Specially after finding out it was twins. Like her mood changes and how Rafe dealt with all of that. Oh and if you could also show us about the day the babies were born 🥹🎉

omg thank you so much 🥹 yes of course!! i wrote a little pregnancy blurb and will do the birth story separately 🥰

based on this fic

» au masterlist

rafe is already protective as hell. but when he finds out she’s pregnant, it reaches a new level. he doesn’t even let her try to reach something off of the top shelf in the kitchen.

“i need to be active,” she says to him as he hands her the pan she was trying to grab. “it’s not good for me or the baby if i don’t move around.”

“then take walks,” rafe says, towering over her. “but if you need to reach something, get me.”

“what if you’re not home?”

“then wait for me to get home.”

she rolls her eyes, irritated but mostly endeared that he’s being so careful.

she gets morning sickness. and afternoon sickness. and night sickness. every time she retches in the bathroom and rafe is home to hear it, she comes out to see him standing by the door, a concerned wince on his face and a glass of water in his hand.

“you okay?” he asks.

she just shakes her head no and takes the glass.

when she reaches eight weeks, they go for her first ultrasound. she can tell something’s up when the technician who’s scanning her stomach seems to straighten up a few minutes in, then continues to take photos.

“is everything okay?” she asks nervously.

“yup,” the tech says. a few gruelling minutes pass by before she turns the screen towards her and rafe.

“i just wanted to confirm before telling you,” the tech explains, “i’m detecting two heartbeats. you’re having twins.”

they speechlessly watch the black and grey screen, following the tech’s finger as she points at a faint blinking.

“there’s one…” she says, then moves, “and two.”

“two,” rafe repeats. he’s still wrapping his head around the fact that he just saw his baby’s heartbeat, let alone two. he meets eyes with his girlfriend, both of them astonished.

a smile grows on his face, his warm hand wrapping around hers. but she’s still in shock.

“w-wow,” she stutters. “you’re sure?”

“positive,” the tech replies.

“i guess, um,” she says, “i guess my doctor will talk to me about it, but is there a higher risk of complications?”

all she’s been reading about is general, common, one-baby pregnancy. this is throwing her for a loop.

“it’s different for every woman,” she tells her, “but you’ll probably have more appointments than you expected just because doctors prefer to monitor multiple births closer.”

“okay,” she says. “thank you.”

“i’ll be sending the images to your doctor and she’ll follow up,” she says, handing her a wad of paper towels. “congratulations. i’ll give you some space to clean the gel and you can head out the same way you came in.”

the tech leaves the room. she meets her boyfriend’s eyes, still unable to crack a smile.

“you okay?” rafe asks.

“i’m…” she begins. “i can’t believe this. this whole time, i’ve been picturing… but there’s… there’s two?”

“there’s two,” he says. he can see how anxious she is. “i’ll be with you through it all.”

“i’m gonna get huge,” she says, shaking her head as she wipes the gel off her stomach.

“i hope so,” he replies. “future nba stars in there. they need to be tall.”

“god,” she says. “twins. why’d you do this to me?”

“i’m efficient.”

she meets his eyes, finally smiling.

“i’m glad you’re so happy,” she tells him.

he looks at her with soft eyes. he knows she’s still harboring a fear that rafe will treat their child like she was treated by her father. he’s learned not to take it personally. but even if he did, he’s determined not to stress her out at all through these nine months, so he wouldn’t say anything anyway.

“are you? happy?” he asks. he realizes he’s kind of fearful, too. maybe she’ll just be worried throughout the pregnancy. maybe they will face complications.

“yes,” she breathes. “i just need to shock to wear off first.”

sure enough, the doctor confirms it. she tells them that multiple pregnancies are riskier, but that they’ll monitor her closely.

as she gets heavier, she gets more irritable and demanding. rafe hates himself for it, but he gets frustrated at times, especially when he’s had a long day and comes home to their penthouse condo to see her on the couch, looking like she’s annoyed he’s home.

he never says anything when he’s irritated. but she can read him like a book.

“why are you mad at me?” she snaps, following him into the bedroom one night after he gets home from the gym.

“i didn’t say a word,” rafe mumbles.

“i can see it on your face,” he says. “what, is it because i don’t have dinner waiting? the smell of anything cooking makes me hurl, you know.”

“i know,” he says, throwing his gym clothes in the hamper. “i’m not mad.”

“can’t you look at me?”

rafe sighs and turns to look at her, her belly round and protruding under her shirt.

“you’re not even happy to be home,” she says, her hands on her hips.

“i am,” he says. “i’m just tired.”

“and i’m not? i have not one, but two things draining me of everything in me every second of every day. i don’t get any breaks. i can’t sleep.”

“i know,” he breathes. “i’m sorry. did you eat?”

“you think i’m stupid enough to be skipping meals? i’m nourishing them,” she says, touching her stomach. “don’t worry about that.”

“i meant…” rafe scratches the back of his neck. he refuses to lose his temper on her when she’s in this state; especially because she’s suffering for both of them. “for you. did you eat?”

“yes,” she says, her hard expression faltering a bit.

“can i get you anything? you have any cravings?”

“not right now,” she replies.

he nods and turns to finish emptying his gym bag.

“i’m making a protein shake soon. you want one, too?” he asks, his back to her.

she sighs, tears welling up in her eyes, and steps forward, putting her arms around him, her stomach pushing against his lower back.

“i’m sorry i’m such a bitch,” she mumbles, sniffling.

“don’t say that. you’re not a bitch,” he says. he’s used to her mood swings by now, but she usually just goes from indifferent to angry and back. she hasn’t cried in a while.

“i can see myself being crazy but i can’t stop,” she admits. “and i’m nervous about tomorrow. i hope they’re doing okay. i still haven’t felt them move.”

her twenty-week ultrasound is tomorrow. they’ll be finding out the twins’ genders.

rafe turns and plants a slow, gentle kiss on her forehead. he exhales slowly as she shudders with her cries.

“they’re doing great,” he says. “all the appointments and check-ups have been good. and whatever they end up being, we’ll love them.”

“you’re right.” she sighs and tilts her chin to kiss him. she hates that she can’t remember the last time they kissed. she feels like all she’s been doing lately is whining and puking.

“how are you?” she asks.

“good.”

“how are you really?”

“i can’t complain.” he puts a hand on her belly. “i’m not the one with two things draining me every second of every day.”

“you’re allowed to be tired, too,” she says. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s all good, baby,” he says. “let’s watch something and pass out on the couch.”

“deal.”

the next day, they learn that she’s carrying a boy and a girl. rafe can’t believe how lucky he is.

when he falls asleep next to his girlfriend that night, curled up behind her, his hand on her belly, he feels a light, almost imperceptible movement on his palm.

“oh, my god,” she whispers into the dark. “did you feel that?”

“was that…?”

“it was,” she says, choking up. “one of them saying hi.”

rafe shuffles closer and kisses her neck a hundred times, gently rubbing her tummy. he still can’t get the way they looked on the ultrasound screen out of his head. he can’t fully comprehend that this is really happening, that this is his life, playing professionally and expecting babies with the only girl he’s ever loved.

he can take her mood swings. he can take her any way. as long as she’s with him.

a few days later, she suggests rafe go on a trip with his friends since it’s the off season. he asks her why and she tells him “so you get a break from me.”

rafe chuckles and kisses her before he tells her, “i don’t need a break from my best friend. what’d i tell you? you won’t do any of this alone.”

by the third trimester, she’s heavy and uncomfortable, but she’s not throwing up anymore. her mood swings are more manageable. at this point, she’s scared for the delivery, fully aware that babies can always come early, especially twins, but she’s excited to finally meet them.

and every chance he gets, rafe kisses her forehead, then gives two kisses to her stomach, telling his son and his daughter that he loves them.

she’s amazed at this side of him. she already knew beneath his aggressive, temperamental exterior was a fiercely protective man with a big heart. but the way he’s been treating her, even when she’s been so difficult and unreasonable, is astonishing.

and she can’t wait to see him as a father. she realizes now that she has no doubt that he’ll always make their children feel loved.

[vampireloverz]

i need lady dimitrescu so badly this evening…

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Hi!! Could you write jealous!steve and childhood best friend!reader for the blurb week. nothing else specific I know whatever you come up with I’ll love

18+

“Are— are you being serious?” You stared at the boy, wide eyed, face a little warm and when Steve simply stared back, you felt your heart stutter. “You are serious.”

————

You’d been in Steve’s bedroom for an hour or so now, unexpectedly so, after a date went to shit. You hadn’t even knocked on the boy’s front door, just walking in and toeing off your shoes in the hall, barrelling into his bedroom mid rant about how men were awful and what was the point in dating?

Steve had handed you a beer, let you steal the pillow you liked from his bed to curl your arms around and he’d listened - surprisingly quiet - as you spoke about Brad, his lack of chivalry, and what kinda guy asks for another girl's number when he’s on a date?

“He’s an asshole,” Steve eventually grumbled. “More than an asshole, actually. Fucking idiot shouldn’t have even gotten a chance with you anyway.”

You’d snorted, self conscious, smiling anyway as you shoved a foot softly to Steve’s thigh. A silent thanks, one he accepted when he flicked at your toes.

“It’s whatever,” you’d said, shrugging. “S’not much of a loss. He couldn’t even make me come, you know?”

Steve choked on his beer, but to his credit, he recovered quickly, swiping at his mouth while he eyed you carefully. He seemed to straighten up a little, brow knitted together when he asked. “I didn’t know you’d… slept with him.”

“Didn’t think you’d be interested in that kinda chat, Harrington,” you had smiled softly, staring at your best friend with more fondness than you should’ve. You felt too warm - you didn’t talk about sex with Steve for a reason. “You wanna know about my sex life?”

Steve had went pink in the cheeks, but he kept his voice steady when he had said: “you normally tell me everything, princess, c’mon now.”

Not everything.

You’d shrugged again, nursing the half full beer bottle between your hands as you started to pick at the label. “Not that much to tell, to be honest. We didn’t even sleep together, just— you know— fooled around a few times. Back of the car kinda stuff.”

Steve’s eyes had flashed with something you couldn’t work out and his jaw tensed before he spoke again. “And he didn’t get you off? Not once?”

You had taken a drag of the beer and shook your head. “Seemed like it was too much effort for him.” You squinted at Steve, half embarrassed, half sardonic. “Maybe I took too long.”

Steve scoffed, looking a little wild eyed, gaze roaming over you, fingers curling around his own beer and he seemed like he couldn’t quite stay still. He’d swallowed hard, throat bobbing and then—

“I could make you come, princess.”

————

“You are serious.” You stated it with awe tinting your voice.

Why not?” Steve asked, setting down his bottle, the amber liquid still swirling around in it. “You’re not the problem, you know that, right? This Brad guy, he’s selfish.” Steve sucked in a breath, gaze heavy on you, more so than you’d ever seen before. “Dude should be lucky that he was allowed to get his hands on you.”

There was something too hot about the way he spoke, your best friend staring at you through hooded eyes, pupils blown wide with the thoughts he was having, head tilted back as he leant against his bedroom wall, jaw tensed and neck taught.

You exhaled, felt it hitch in your chest and you sat your beer down too, something final about the move. “Are you drunk?” You asked Steve. You weren’t sure if he’d had more to drink before you arrived.

He shook his head. You believed him. He wasn’t drunk, he was just feeling brave.

Fuck.

“Okay,” you said, ignoring the part of your brain that told you this was a bad, bad idea. Your best friend? But there was another part - a much larger part - that was shouting yes. The part that had been waiting too long for this, that whispered that the boy knew you so well, better than anyone… of course Steve would make you feel good. “Yeah, okay. Make me come.”

He made you come twice.

Once with his fingers, two hooked inside of you, calloused pads rubbing up at that that spot that hardly got touched, thumb dragging over your clit as he kissed you too sweet for how he was fucking his digits into you. Steve kissed soft and slow, deep and with his tongue licking over yours, pulling back just enough to whisper if it felt good, to ask how you liked it, to tell you to tell him how you wanted it.

The second time, he used his mouth. Hushing your protests that ‘he didn’t need to if he didn’t want to.’ Steve had kissed away your words, nudged his nose against your own and asked:

“Do you want me to?” He said it softly, without any push or pressure. Another kiss, sticky sweet. “Because I really, really want to. If you’ll let me.”

You nodded.

So he did, with more enthusiasm you’d had from any date, any hookup, any ex-boyfriend. Steve pushed your dress up, slid your underwear down and kissed at your thighs, waiting until you relaxed and softened for him against his pillows, smiling when your toes curled at his pretty, dirty words.

“You’re so gorgeous, you know that? God, princess, wanted to do this for too long.”

And:

“Gonna make you feel so good, promise. Such a pretty pussy, Christ, you taste so good, so sweet, fuck.”

When Steve wasn’t running his mouth, he had in on you, big hands holding your thighs open for him, coaxing you back to the edge with his tongue licking flat over your clit, dipping down to push his tongue around your entrance, groaning when you moaned for him, whispering into you to keep making those noises for him.

And when Steve knew you were getting close, back arching, gasps falling from your lips, he tugged you closer, threw your legs over his shoulders and encouraged you to move your hips against his face. His nose nudged at your clit when his tongue wasn’t on it, and when you came, it was harder than the first time, white behind your eyelids, your best friend's name in your mouth.

Steve missed you as you came down, lips dragging over your thighs, mumbling nonsense about how hot you were, how fucking pretty you looked when you came, how he really liked you saying his name like that. He kissed you sweet again on the lips, grinning when you hummed at the way you tasted yourself on him and when he pulled back, he looked a little smug.

“Better than Brad?” He asked, jealousy tinting his words despite the taste of you still on his tongue.

“Who?” You asked, still breathless, hands seeking warmth and bare skin under Steve’s shirt.

He grinned, more than pleased.

…..

[shawnxstyles]

Omg! Panty stealer pt2 is sooooo gooood! Cocky and dom Peter absolutely blew my mind! Your writing is awesome!

Pleeeeease tell me that it will be third part to fulfill the panty trilogy! As humble suggestion maybe reader find out that Pete is SpiderMan and he will finally get head from her while he is in his spidey costume? Or maybe more than just blowjob?Hehehe Am I very bad and naughty that I'm typing this to you? 🥵🤤

Anyways love ya darling! You're smashing it!

in the suit

words: 3k

warnings: smut; (m- receiving [oral], dirty talk), language, and fluff of course. barely edited.

note: panty!peter blurb #1 coming up :D also, this is the way i believe y/n would have found out about spider-man, but i have another request for the same thing so i’ll probably do an alternative version!

—

you couldn’t stop thinking about it. how?

how does peter manage to get into your room every night? okay, not every night, but most nights.

most nights, peter magically and mysteriously sneaks his way up into your forbidden bedroom with ease. sometimes, you even wait and watch outside your window to try to get a peak at what he’s doing. but you never see him.

he’s just so slick. how does he do it?

you and peter have been together for over a month now, if you’re counting the day he broke in. the feeling isn’t necessarily new in your heart. you feel like you’ve known him your whole life. like he’s always just… been there.

through this month of stability yet craziness, you haven’t gone back to the frat house since the halloween party. you thought that after you guys got together you would stay there more often, but peter doesn’t want you to be ‘attacked’ by the guys. meaning, he doesn’t want them to ask a million questions when you guys are supposed to be private. you thought his excuse was dumb, but he was also just being a bit protective.

in reality, peter just didn’t know how to get you into the frat house without anyone seeing you. you both had agreed that your relationship was going to be kept private, very private. people could spread rumors and assume you two were together, but you weren’t going to show each other off. you guys liked it this way, it made your relationship more special because it was just for you two.

peter had a sixth sense, sticky fingers, and webs. it was pretty easy for him to crawl up into your room especially because you didn’t have security cameras (maybe you guys should get some at some point though…). you would constantly ask him how he does it since you live on the second floor and it was high up. but peter responds by not responding and instead laughs and kisses you. god, he was too good at distracting you.

but tonight, you were determined to find out.

peter had already texted you earlier and said he wouldn’t be able to stop by tonight because of overbearing homework. you completely understood, and sent him a good luck and goodnight to me then message. but truly, you were sneaking out and heading towards the frat.

you put on your sneakers and a hoodie, pulling the strings tightly around your head. the early december weather was no joke in massachusetts, and your thermal leggings were barely helping to keep you warm. as quietly as possible, you leave through the back door, making sure not to alert anyone or anything. not like you have a system to alert though.

you cut through some of the hedges until you’re in the front yard and the frat is staring at you from across the street. taking a deep, chilly breath, you cross the road with your frozen fingers tucked in your pocket.

all the lights in the top rooms were off, except one. you’re not totally sure which one is peter’s, but what other frat guy would stay up until 11 p.m. working on homework?

maybe ned, but he sleeps downstairs.

you walk until you’re under the window, the yellowish light taunting you. there was no latter, vine, rope, or magic hair to get you into the bedroom. the houses were built very similarly, and you know he doesn’t bring a latter with him.

so how does he do it?

you take a glance at your surroundings. the biggest difference of your houses was that the guys’ didn’t have large garden hedges. they just had a shit ton of messy bushes that they should probably trim once in a while.

having no ideas, you try to jump towards the window. great, that’s totally going to help you. maybe you’ll get some super jump that can spring you up and inside.

you feel stupid. yeah, peter may be the smartest person on campus and going to mit on a full academic scholarship, but how does he sneak into your room? with geometry? you didn’t think so.

wait.

what if… he’s hiding something from you?

that would explain why he’s so weird about it. letting the impulsive decisions take you over, you throw a rock at his window. hopefully, you’ll get his attention and he’ll come down, so you can see how he does it. or he’ll just go through the front door… whatever he does, you need to ask him this question right now. or else you’ll never be able to sleep again.

when throwing the rock gets tedious and noisy, you quit. just as you’re about to drop to the ground in annoyance, you hear a distant whipping sound. you hold your breath as if the person whipping will hear you.

fuck. it wasn’t a good idea for you to go out at night.

suddenly feeling anxious and scared, you slowly creep towards the sorority house. you don’t get too far before you see a body flinging through the air. the whipping noise gets closer and closer to you with every web on the streetlights. what the…

there’s only one person that could possibly be doing the impossible.

spider-man.

but what was he doing in your little neighborhood? this was one of the safest places in the area, so he didn’t need to check up here. there were so many more places in massachusetts that needed saving. feeling beyond curious, your feet scatter to hide you behind one of the untrimmed bushes.

you watch through crowded leaves as spider-man swings through the neighborhood, getting towards you. it’s like he can sense you and he’s coming for you. your heart thumps wildly in your chest, nervous about seeing him. you’ve never seen him before, and at least not in person. he was popular on the newspaper and television screens, but never on the street. unless you lived within the city.

with one long and final thwip, spider-man flings himself towards the frat house.

what. the…

you place your hand over your mouth, just in case your breathing is too loud. you intensely watch as the spider crawls up the white wall and towards the only lit window in the whole house.

no. fucking. way.

before you could fully register what you were seeing, you felt the gasp leave your mouth. you slap both of your hands on your face to shut yourself up. you nearly fall back on your heels as spider-man halts his movements. he scans his surroundings before jumping down the wall entirely.

your eyes are wide and your hands of shaking. you’ve never felt your heart beat so unbelievably fast, but you’ve also never been more afraid. what does he do to people that find out? what is going to happen to your relationship?

the body of blue and red stocks closer to the bushes with careful steps. you try to scoot away, but your back hits the fence. the wood creaks, your actions not quiet enough. his footsteps pick up speed as they rush to the bushes with determination.

spider-man jumps over the plant with grace, hoping to see a wild animal of some sort. but when he sees his girl with the most shocked and terrified expression in the world, he immediately falls to his knees.

“y/n,” he calmly says, slowly inching to you. he doesn’t hesitate to comfort you as peter. you don’t move, you just listen. “it’s okay. i promise.”

now that he sensed you, peter could hear your heartbeat overbearingly in his ears. he could hear your muffled breaths under your palm, and he just wanted to soothe your fear.

“baby,” he wanted to cuddle your body until you stopped shaking. you weren’t crying, you were just in shock. peter takes a quick glance at his surroundings before yanking off his mask and kneeling, so you could see his face reflecting off the moonlight. “it’s just me.”

“i…” you whispered as your hands fell from your face. peter doesn’t hesitate to grab them gently with his gloved ones. “…knew it.”

“you knew i was spider-man?”

“well… for like five seconds,” you flusteredly laugh while trying to recover. you still haven’t gotten used to this. well it’s only been a minute. “i knew you were hiding something.”

“what are you doing out this late anyway?” he stares straight up at the moon as it shines vehemently over you both.

“uh… well,” you start, “i was kind of curious as to how you always snuck into my bedroom without a latter or something, so i went to see? i don’t really know what i was looking for.”

peter chuckles. “but you found your answer, yeah?”

“yeah, i did,” you smile with sweetness as peter helps you up from the grass floor.

—

“it’s different breaking into your room rather than mine,” you say as you sit on the edge of peter’s bed. you watch as he tosses his mask inside of a box labeled books. “so that’s what was in the box. not dirty magazines.”

“surprise?” peter laughs and you giggle at his shyness. his cheeks and nose were red from the cold, but also from the slight blush that crossed them. you made him feel all warm and tingly inside, and even a little gooey.

his hand reaches for the button on his chest. it deflates, instantly becoming huge around him.

“wait,” you stop him before he undresses himself. he looks towards you. “can i just… look at you for a moment? in the suit?”

a small smirk creeps up his face. peter clicks the button again and his suit encloses on his body, outlining his muscles perfectly. every ridge and curve of him was being shown off by the spandex. you felt a spark of lust fire inside of you at the sight.

“like me in my suit, baby?” he teased as he trudged over to you. you stood up from the bed to meet his buff chest. you nodded with a bite of your lip.

he nearly growls before attaching your lips. it’s barely been a day since he’s last kissed you, but that’s too long for him. his gloved hand grips your jaw to deepen the kiss while your hands explore his messy hair.

the heat between you was undeniable. you were getting worked up over peter in his suit, and that’s something you never thought was possible. because you didn’t think peter being spider-man was possible.

is there a spider-man kink?

you take your shirt off after breaking the kiss, but resume it in no time. as he pushes you onto the bed, you stop him, having a new idea in mind.

“peter,” you sigh, spandex body hovering over yours.

“you okay?”

“yeah, yes. i just…” you swallowed, “can i…”

you didn’t really get your question out. you just slithered your body off the bed until your knees were digging into his carpet. peter’s eyebrows shoot up as he stares down at your figure, submissive below him.

“fuck. you want to touch my cock?” peter was already growing hard at the idea of fucking you in his suit. he found it hot that you found his suit hot. everything seemed to be a turn on right now. but now you were on your fucking knees like an angel and damn near begging to touch him?

how could he say no?

“go ahead then, sweet girl,” peter allows, but you stay still.

“how do i take it off—?”

“right—”

he unzips a zipper that you swear wasn’t there before. you barely take him fully out before you’re drooling at the sight. he was big and thick, and you don’t think you’d ever get used to looking at and feeling him.

your thumb drags over his weepy tip and he winces at your freezing touch.

“sorry!” you exclaimed with a funky smile. he forcefully laughs while you spit warmth into your hand.

“it’s okay, baby.”

your delicate hand wraps around him as you shift up and down. he sighs into the air, eyes fluttering back. your other hand scratches his thighs lightly. then, you fondle his balls until he’s groaning above you.

“fuck, darling,” he moans as his rough hand rests on your head. with his grip on you, you feel inclined to put your mouth on him. you’re barely an inch away, so what are you waiting for?

your lips pucker as you kiss his veiny shaft. you see from the top of your eyes how his face floods with pleasure, and your ego rises.

“if you look at me like that again, i’m going to explode, baby,” peter husks with his fingers laced in your hair for support.

with a hummed chuckle, you finally place your mouth on him. you suck on his leaky tip as a deep groan elicits from him. his noises always give you a bunch of reassurance, so you hum against him in satisfaction.

“takin’ me so well,” peter forces himself to stay still and let you do all the work. although, his hips just want to break free and ram into the back of your throat until you lose your voice. for another time… “love when you’re on your knees for me.”

you vibrated a moan against his cock as you took him deeper, a little more than half way. you were never the best at giving head because you couldn’t go that far down without gagging atrociously, but after peter showed you a better technique, for breathing and comfort, he thought you were a professional.

“you like being on your knees for me? or for spider-man?”

a groggy moan rippled around his cock from your filled throat, confirming his suspicions. you were definitely turned of the idea of peter as spider-man, and because of that, he was too. every time you were horny, peter was too.

you released your hands from him and braced them on his thighs. you focused and remembered the small notes he’s given you before. you take a long breath before sinking his cock deep in the back of your mouth. your thumb stabs your palm to eliminate your gag reflex, and it works. your nose nudges the base of his cock and you can see up close how his abs contract tightly.

“fuck! doing so good for me. going to make me come, sweet girl.”

hearing this, you bob and twist your head with a goal. your tongue swirls exploring around each ridge like it’s never tasted the plain before. peter was delicious; he was sweet with a pinch of saltiness that made you a fan of giving head. you would get on your knees any day for him.

his cock twitches in your mouth, warning you that he’s coming. you feel his hips buck into you as he strongly yanks your hair. you groan as he lets himself go.

“where do you want it? on your face? chest? or are you going to swallow it like a good girl?”

even when his dick twitches again, you don’t make an effort to move. you lick the underside of him, which sends peter over the edge.

a string of hushed groans fall from his pink lips as his muscles clench. ropes of his orgasm spurts down your throat, and you swallow every drop like a champ. well, almost all. parts of his come drip from the corner of your lip as he slowly pulls out of you.

the second he exits you, your jaw is instantly sore and achy, but it was worth it. to see the flustered and breathless peter above you was worthless everytime. peter was nearly disoriented by how fucking incredible your mouth was. how you were.

he tucks himself back into his suit as you remain on the floor. he leans down and helps you up, your knees popping in the process.

“how was it this time?” you croaked, voice cracking horrendously. peter tries not to laugh as he wipes away the nearly dried sperm on your face. you open your mouth without a thought, and he sticks his thumb in your mouth for you to lick it clean.

“it was good. fucking amazing. impeccable. exceeded expectations. outstanding performance—”

“okay, okay i get it. you’re a nerd!” you brokenedly laugh as you shove his chest. you got a sudden wave of chills because you were starting to get a bit cold. your body was still running hot because you were still, well, turned on.

“nerds are awesome, okay? they know everything.”

“like what? impress me,” you challenge as you throw your leg on top of his lap and get yourself seated. he smirks, feeling his cock chuff up a bit already. you were beyond soaked in your panties, and you just couldn’t wait for peter to destroy you.

peter knows you didn’t actually want him to say anything nerdy, so he made it a bit sexual. as always.

“they know how to… kiss.”

“you’re probably the one nerd that knows how to kiss.”

“okay, fine. i know how to kiss,” his hand cups your face as it leans closer towards his. he places a soft, longing kiss on your swollen lips before pulling away way too fast for your liking. “i know how to touch you, i know how to rile you up. right? i’m doing it right now. and you’re probably soaking.”

a warmth wave floods through your body at his words.

“i know how to talk to you too. bet these dirty words are going straight to your little clit, huh?”

“peter,” you whimper. he was right. he was beyond right.

his hand trails down your bare stomach and hovers over your clothed cunt. he can feel the heavy heat radiating from you through your leggings, begging for more.

“i can feel you. i can smell you, too. a perk of being spider-man,” he smiles, “guess this nerd is pretty great.”

“peter!” you shook his shoulders in desperation, but he didn’t move. you had a love hate relationship with his teasing. he indeed got you riled up, to the max, until you were begging him to touch you. he just dragged it on and on and on. he loved hearing you beg for it.

“okay, okay, sweet girl,” peter chuckled as his fingers fumbled down the waistline of your leggings. they were thick, so you helped him get them down. “just want to hear you say how awesome nerds are first. how do you think i made these webs?”

“you’re the hottest, super-nerd i’ve ever met in my life. now can you please fuck me?” you begged as your cunt ached.

“aw thanks, baby,” all he did was laugh at your misery with a smirk. “all you had to do was say please.”

—

note: not my best work, but i hope you enjoyeddd. literally posting this at 1 am :D

taglist: @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @marzipaanz

crossed out= not able to tag

[hobie-enthusiast]

WITHOUT YOU !

— ‘hobie × reader angst where the reader doesn't know that hobie is spider punk and doing all these multiverse missions and is hurt by hobie having to flake out and miss dates or hang outs, hobie wants to reveal who they are but maybe saw a multiverse where that didn't end well?’

— hobie brown x gn!reader

— lots of angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, little blurbs and then a longer one

— duty calls hobie at the worst times, and you start to get weary of how he’s acting

— i had an inner debate with myself on ‘should i write a happy ending or sad ending’ so i compromised and did a poll (directly reuploaded from my old acc @/hobieenthusiast)

The first time Hobie Brown skipped out was three months into your relationship.

He wanted to take you to a local diner his friend owned. Hobie always wanted to support his fellow anarchists and friends in however they battle the corrupt world. And what better way than bringing his partner on a lovely date there?

He promised to meet you there. That he had something to take care of before he came.

You assumed maybe he was bringing a gift or had to change at his apartment beforehand. You know it would be okay, Hobie wouldn’t flake. Right?

Right?

You stood outside the diner in the cold air, waiting for Hobie to arrive. You had some paper flowers you created in your hand to give to him when he arrived (since of course you couldn't ever buy into capitalism). He was already about five minutes late at that point, but surely he had his reasons.

Five minutes turned into ten. Then ten to an hour. You went inside at some point to sit and wait for him, asking for some water and a coffee for when he got there. But after two hours, you lost any hope. You stood, paying for the undrunk coffee and tipping the waiter for dealing with you not ordering food.

Wasn't like you were hungry anyway.

As you were walking back to your apartment, you finally got a call from him. The adorable photo of the two of you along with 'Hobes <3' popped up, and you could only sigh as you picked up.

"Hobie?" You call out, holding the phone to your ear.

"[Name]!" He spoke on the other end, his voice sounding a little more upset and out of breath. "Sweetheart, 'm so sorry-"

You cut him off, shivering slightly. "Where were you? Actually, scratch that. Where are you?"

“Somethin’ came up, darlin’. ‘m so sorry. I called as soon as I could.”

He sounded genuine in his apology. You sighed, rubbing your eyes and keeping quiet for a little while. This stung, for sure. But if it was out of his control, could you blame him?

Hobie sighed on the other end. “I’ll make it up to ya, a’right? I’ll come ‘round tomorrow, we’ll go then, promise. That a’right, sweetheart?”

“Yeah..” You respond, taking a deep breath. “Yeah that’s good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Hobes.”

You both say goodbye and hang up soon after. Hobie stayed true to his word and came by the next day with some hand-made gifts to apologize, taking you out to the diner. It turned out okay, you were grateful for that much. Surely that was a one time thing.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The second time Hobie Brown skipped out was on your four month anniversary.

The two of you agreed to not do much, just stay in and hang out. He even agreed to teach you some guitar! To say you were excited was an understatement.

He promised to come over around seven and spend the night. Hobie even wanted to make dinner together. Something you were again looking forward to.

His promise was genuine, so surely him being late wasn’t anything to worry about, right?

Right?

You put on a record onto your record player, one of the shared favourites between you and Hobie, playing the music throughout the apartment. You sat on your couch, fiddling with some of the pins Hobie gifted you as you awaited his arrival.

Eight pm. Hobie still hadn’t shown up.

You shot him a quick text, asking where he was. No reply. Surely everything was okay. He was Hobie Brown, he knew how to take care of himself. With little worry in your mind, you focused on starting dinner, hoping Hobie wouldn’t mind.

Nine pm. No sign of Hobie.

You finished making food, setting a plate aside in the microwave as you ate your portion in silence. The music accompanied you, but not like Hobie does.

Ten pm. Hobie Brown was nowhere around.

You could only sigh in frustration, upset he flaked, again. No call this time either. You had sent close to six texts within those three hours, none of which were responded to. You were upset, that much was certain.

A knock on your door startled you. You rush over, opening it quickly.

Hobie stood on the other side, clutching his arm with his hand covered in blood. Some cuts and bruises littered his face.

“Hobes, oh my- get in here.” You say in worry, bringing him in and guiding him to your couch. “Sit.. hold on please just.. crap..”

You rush to grab some medical supplies, lying them down in front of him. You take a towel, soak in some hydrogen peroxide, raising it to his arm. Your hand shakes as you make contact with Hobie’s skin, but his hand stops you.

“Aye, look here..” He says quietly, looking down at you. “You’re shakin’. Deep breaths, ‘right? ‘m totally fine.”

“But you aren’t! You blow me off then show up three hours later all beaten up! You can’t do that Hobie!”

He’s silent as you shakily clean him up. He could tell you were upset, and he felt guilty for being the cause. This was yet another instance out of his control, but Hobie didn’t feel it was right to excuse himself while you were so nervous.

You finish cleaning and bandaging before sighing. “I’m sorry I just.. you scared me, Hobes.”

“I know, sweetheart..” He responds, pulling you into a tight hug. “Won’ happen again. Promise.”

Funny enough, that’s what he said the first time.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The third, fourth, and fifth times Hobie Brown flaked were enough to make you pissed.

He continued to promise he couldn’t flake again. He said he wouldn’t get hurt and that he would show up. That he wouldn’t be late.

Lies.

You sat on the rooftop of your apartment building, legs dangling over the edge. You knew Hobie would come. You said it was urgent. That you had to talk.

“Careful. Don’t needya fallin’ down.”

You chuckle at the familiar voice. Hobie comes to sit next to you, noticing the somber expression you’re wearing.

He sighed, looking over the building. “Everythin’ alright?”

“As much as I want to say yes, no.” You respond, not daring to look at Hobie’s expression.

There was a heavy silence that hung between you two for a little while. He knew what this was about, but he had no intention of telling you the answer.

—

Hobie let out a small breath, sending the anomaly back to HQ. This one put up a fight, that was certain. And that universe’s Spider-man? Well he was dealing with another villain not too far from there.

He decided to swing over in case anything went wrong, settling for observing for now. But something about the enemy did catch his ear.

He kept talking about how he was going to make Spider-man pay, they were sworn enemies, blah blah the same spiel like always. But this one was saying.. more than that.

‘You’re gonna pay for keeping [Name] from me!’

‘How do you even know ‘em?’

‘Oh Spider-man, I know all. Just like how I know you revealed your identity to them. Wrong move, Spider-man. Or should I say, Hobie Brown?’

Of course Hobie knew this wasn’t his universe, but hearing it almost felt like an out-of-body experience. He watched as the fight raged on, even seeing this universe’s you suspended on the top of a clock tower.

He watched the moment go on. Watched as this Hobie Brown stopped the enemy, fixed any falling pieces, then went to save his you. But he didn’t make it. The clock tower piece snapped from damage, releasing the hold it had on his you.

Hobie couldn’t watch anymore. He swung away from the scene, far as possible, before taking off his mask with a heavy sigh.

He was debating with himself for so long. He owed it to you to tell you about his identity. He knew that. But after seeing that.. he wasn’t too sure he truly could.

His heart was heavy as he pulled out his phone, seeing a dozen texts from you asking where he was. Hobie felt so guilty, keeping this secret.

But he had a duty to protect you, even if that means hiding it.

—

“What’s going on with you?” You ask, drawing your knees to your chest. “You continue to flake on our dates and hang-outs. Your bandmates have said you don’t come to rehearsals. And you randomly show up hurt or worse. I can’t understand what’s happening.”

Hobie sighed. “I know. Haven’ been very present. ‘m sorry.”

You shake your head. “I’m not looking for an apology.” You say, glancing at him. “I’m looking for an explanation.”

“Well..”

Hobie stops his words, unable to continue. It’s like he’s back in that moment when he witnessed your death. Well.. other universe you. But it still stung the same. Would that be the consequence if he told you who he really was?

He knows Spider-man can’t save everyone. So what does he do?

“Can’t tell ya..” Hobie finally says, looking out onto the city. It was always so beautiful at night. “‘s for your safety.”

“My safety? Hobie you can’t be serious.” You say, a sad expression crossing your face.

He shakes his head in turn. “I just.. need time. I gotta make sure ‘s safe to tell ya.”

You’re silent as his words, unsure of what to do. You trusted Hobie, you truly did. But this was hurting the both of you. That much was obvious.

“Okay..”

You lean your body on Hobie’s arm, taking a deep breath of air. “Take as long as you need. Just.. promise you’ll stay safe. Please.”

Hobie wraps an arm around your shivering body, planting a kiss on your head as he combs through your hair. He’s grateful, oh so grateful, that you understand. This wasn’t easy, he knew that of course. But you were the best person who possibly could understand, even when so in the dark.

“Promise..”

His voice carried into the wind of the night, sealing the words between the two lovers.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hiii not sure if this is okay with you, or completely pathetic in anyway (let me know if it is)… BUT it’s my birthday today and no one wished me a happy birthday :/ it’s almost 10pm at night.

If you were up for it could you write maybe a little blurb of Bucky saying happy birthday and making me feel bit better?

I live for your posts, you are seriously talented af, never stop 💕💕💕🥹 even if you can’t write it, I’ll still spend the last few hrs of my bday reading through your stuff.

Happy Birthday » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky wishes his best girl a happy birthday.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bucky being the best boyfriend ever, hugs and kisses, cuddling, use of pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this. Also, I’m sorry no one wished you a happy birthday, but you’re getting one from me and Bucky🩵

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

Bucky laid next to you with his head propped up on his hand, smiling at how cute you look when you sleep. He gently moved a piece of your hair from your face, his metal thumb gently rubbing across your cheek. You stirred awake, feeling the cool metal on your cheek. You opened your eyes to see your boyfriend smiling at you. You gave him a smile back.

“Good morning, doll.” Bucky says softly.

“Good morning, Bucky.” You say.

Bucky’s metal hand gently cupped your cheek. He leaned down and kissed you passionately, making you smile against his lips.

“Happy Birthday, babydoll.” He says against your lips.

“Thank you, baby.” You smiled, kissing him again.

You moved closer to him, laying your head on his chest and played with his dog tags. Bucky protectively wrapped his arms around you, his metal hand rubbing your back.

“Can we stay in bed and cuddle all day?” You asked.

“We could, but we’ll miss what I have planned for you today.” Bucky says.

“Is it for my birthday?” You asked curiously, looking up at him.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, doll face.” He kisses the tip of your nose, making you giggle. “We can cuddle for a little bit.” He says.

You playfully pouted at him. Bucky couldn’t help but kiss you.

“I love you, Buck.” You say against his lips.

“I love you too, doll.” Bucky says softly.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[suckerforblondeathletes]

can you write a cc fic/blurb where she’s with connor but realizes she’s catching feelings for you(iowa wbb player!) and isn’t sure what to do, so she goes to kate, calls monika even, and then shows up at your door talking about how she wants to be with you and has broken up with connor despite what people might say?

Maybe it is you - Caitlin Clark .1

Caitlin Clark x teammate reader

Warnings： C*nnor (a warning himself) | angst to tension | toxic relationships | this might trigger some people so please be aware!! | foul language | mentions of blood | cheating? | WLW allusions |

Summary: After a heated argument with Connor. Caitlin drives to your apartment in tears and you comfort her, one thing leads to another, the tension between the two of you gets brought up.

Caitlin Pov:

Being with Connor in the beginning was great. He was sweet, kind, thoughtful. Until he wasn’t. He started spending more time on his phone. Away from me, pretending like I don’t exist really. So I started hanging out with others. Especially number 8 on the Iowa Women’s Basketball team. She was the sweetest girl I think I have met. Her beautiful hair was always perfect. Even if she thought otherwise. Now that I think about it. She’s just perfect. She’s thoughtful, kind, really funny, and very, very pretty.

“What the fuck is your problem Caitlin.” Connor yelled in her face when she caught him smiling at his phone for the 5th time at the dinner table. “What the fuck is up with you lately.” I say, throwing my spoon down on the table and leaning back in my chair. “Here you fucking go again. On this weird shit thinking I’m cheating.” He says as he runs his hands down his face. “Well I don’t know what you want me to expect when you act like this. How do I know if you aren’t?” “Maybe I fucking am Caitlin. Which I’m not. But if I was, you couldn’t do anything anyways. What would your fans think? Huh?” I feel tears brim my eyes as he finishes his sentence. “Just answer me. Are you cheating on me?” I ask, my voice shaking as I try to speak. “SHUT THE FUCK UP CAITLIN. YOUR SO FUCKING INSANE AND POSSESSIVE.” He says as he stands up and grabs my jaw. “You’re fucking sick.” He spits as he walks away. Leaving me to hold my tears back at the dimly lit dinner table. I taste blood in my mouth from trying to hold my tears back.

I get up quickly and grab my phone, and rush out the door into the pouring rain. I don’t hear him ask where I’m going. He wouldn’t care. I feel a shortness of breath and dizzy as a drive in the rain to her house. I pick my phone up with a shaky hand and call dial her number.

-

Reader Pov:

“Hey Caitlin. I was just..” I say before noticing her shaky breath. “Caitlin? Caitlin what’s wrong?” I ask frantically, so many thoughts run in my head before she answers. “Hey um.. c-can I just come to yours and talk.” I hear her sniffle and try to catch her breath. She has called me before after a fight with Connor, so I assume this is the reason. “Babe I need you to breathe. Okay?” I call her babe when I’m serious. Or trying to calm her down. I started doing so after her games when they weren’t good. She just calmed down when I did. I never thought much of it.

I hear her take deep breathes on my command and she tells me she’s here. I run outside in the pouring rain. In her hoodie and a pair of Nike shorts. She gets out of her car and I run to pull her in my arms. I shush her to stop her crying and quick walk her inside my apartment. We don’t speak. We understand each other. It’s always been that way. Just one look between us and we understand what the other is thinking.

“Come, I’ll start a shower for you and make you food.” I say as she finally calms down and sits on the wooden stool in my dining room. We’re both soaking wet and cold. I rush to the bathroom and get the water to a warm temperature before I walk back into the kitchen to throw something in the microwave. I look back and see her sitting there at the island that’s off my kitchen counter. “I missed you” she says, not even looking up. “I missed you too. I always do.” I give her a soft smile before walking around to her. She’s sitting at the perfect height so I can wrap my arms around her wet head. As I cradle her head in my arms. She wraps her arms around my waist.

I feel like we’ve been here for hours before I pull away. “Let’s get you in the shower” I say with a soft voice and walk her to the bathroom. Her face is still sunk in and looks almost empty of color. I take her ‘Iowa Basketball’ sweat shirt off and throw it into the basket. “Let me know when your finished.” I say on my way to turn around when she grabs my wrist. I look at her, thinking something is wrong. “Can you join me?” She speaks softly, almost a whisper, looking into my eyes for an answer. “Yeah, yeah of course.” I say taking my clothes off too. There is this look in her eyes, I just can’t pin point what it is. She gets in first and I get in behind her. The hot water running on her chest as she looks down.

I come up behind her and snake my arms around her waist as I lay my head on her back. I try to comfort her by pressing soft kisses onto her muscular back. Doing so, she turns her head to the side to look at me over her shoulder. “I never liked him much.” Her face doesn’t change as I say that. “I think you deserve better. Someone who would care for you, love you.” I say as she turns around to look at me. She still says nothing as I wrap me arms around her neck. Hers going to my waist to pull me closer into her. Our faces get closer and she speaks. “Would you?”

－

[endemise]

long ramble, progress update, & potential release timeframe below:

hii! i got a lot of coding done and i think im finally satisfied with how the game looks (for now…)

here are some screenshots of what some of it will look like on mobile!

the friendship and romance levels shown in the relationship menu are just random as is the blurb for Aesop’s thoughts, they’re just for the example! (also characters thoughts are hidden by default, you click to reveal, then hide, them)

the stat bars were giving me hell but i finally figured them out with the the help of some forums and tumblr posts

i liked how in when twilight strikes by evertidings, the menu buttons (i.e. profile, stats, relationships) are listed at the top of the page so i took inspiration from that! and the many IFs that have a splash (?) screen at the beginning with the title

compared to when i started using twine (i think august 2023 was the first time i gave it a try), i’ve learned so much and there’s still so much to learn as well, i think coding has become my favorite part (making things looks pretty hehe)(with the help of amazing templates & ppl smarter than me, they do the heavy lifting fr)

with all the coding done (appearance wise) it’s lock in time for the revised prologue and chapter 1

the prologue has undergone a fair bit of change with the help of feedback & i’ve (hopefully) better established the setting and story.

some things that have changed besides wording and sentence structure, etc.: being able to choose what you did as a job (ex. working at the family inn) and meeting a new character (more like an old friend?)(no spoilers:))

some things i’ve been considering (SLIGHT SPOILER FOR CH.1 MAYBE): merging the revised prologue and chapter 1 into just the prologue bc chapter 1 differs a bit from the other chapters, but then the prologue would maybe be too strange timeframe wise? it’s a time skip after the events of the prologue (is that considered a spoiler, i don’t think so but???) that connects to the next chapters so maybe it’d just be better as its own chapter? or dropping the revised prologue by itself along with the updated ui/appearance then chapter 1 sometime after, or dropping the revised prologue and chapter 1 together, idk these are all just ideas i’ve been thinking about maybe i’ll do a poll

if you have anything you’d like to see, for example a specific job your MC worked, certain personality traits, or something like that, feel free to let me know & i’ll take them into consideration! i think now is the best time to add things bc it’s early development days & it’ll be easier to do so now than later

i’ve also decided to lean a little more into the supernatural aspect which i’m excited for (one specific thing really, i can’t wait to get to it🤭) the story’s world itself is fairly grounded in reality (as in the supernatural is unknown to most) but i’m looking forward to exploring it more

what you’re probably reading this for: depending on how i end up going about the prologue-chapter 1 merge decision & whether anything is added from requests/feedback, i’m aiming for a june release, july at the latest (fingers crossed). now that the appearance and function coding is complete (besides stat/choice tracking & other story related things), finishing the writing and coding it in is all that’s left

my schedule has done a 180 & some things are less than ideal at moment but it should all (hopefully) go smoothly from here! should anything change, i’ll let you all know

anyways, that’s all i have to say for now! ty for being patient & for reading this mess, i appreciate you all :)

[voxisdaddy]

I’m looking at my all my drafts and I’m like… when tf did I write this???? Do I wanna continue it??? Where exactly was I even going with this? I think the promt was something along the lines of switched Dom/Sub roles. Like what would make your Dom s/o be a Sub and viseversa. Might continue it cuz the other characters and their lil blurbs I have are lowkey kinda hot lmao

Anyways, some of the other characters are;

Vox

Alastor

Lucifer

Striker

Velvette

Maybe I’ll add Charlie and a few others too idk. This is fun tho lol

Any others I should maybe add to the list?👀