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gracieheartspedro · 3 months ago

Text

You Really Got Me Now

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 5.2k words

description: your best friend and roommate eddie is pissing you off, per usual. his way of making you feel heard is not very conventional.

warnings: 18+ content, MDNI, no use of y/n, roommate au, lowkey pwp, best friend!eddie, reader and eddie are both in their 30s, a bit of force proximity, reader is awkward as fuck (she just like me), reader hasn't gotten dick lately, mentions of voyeurism (eddie and reader have listened to each other having sex), kind of dom!eddie, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, lots and lots of dirty talk, eddie cums in reader.... annoying ass neighbors?

authors note: yeah i don't know. i'm just horny for this man. all of the time. thanks to lindsey @amanitacowboy who CONSISTENTLY feeds into my delusions. love u.

how to help palestine ~ dividers by @cafekitsune

He pissed you off for the fourth time today.

You had spent most of your day doing yard work, trying to ensure the home you two shared did not look overgrown for your snooty neighbors. They already hated that there was an unmarried couple living next to them. Even worse they were not even a couple.

Eddie and you had been friends for over a decade. When you two could not find someone to settle down with once you both turned 30, you decided to rent a house together. You were sick of living at home with your parents and everyone else around you was in love. Steve had Kira, Robin had Vicki, and well… you had Eddie. Eddie had you. But not in a romantic sense.

That’s what you two told yourselves, at least.

Made crystal clear years ago, you and Eddie knew your friendship meant more than some knee jerk desires. You had kissed once, and you would be lying if you said you did not enjoy it. He was tentative, kissing you like he was trying to melt all your worries away. At the time, it was a desperate attempt to distract your mind from a shitty break up and Eddie had gotten a bit too high.

That next morning, you sat down with him and discussed boundaries. No kissing, no sex. That was the hard line, and for years, you two had kept that promise to yourselves.

There had been moments. An evening out with friends where you two would dance all night together and when you parted to go to your separate rooms, you would linger in the hallway just staring at each other. No one ever caved because you both knew you would regret it in the morning. Or the tense nights where one of you said something to rub the other person the wrong way. Sometimes it would turn into you two apologizing in the dimly lit kitchen, hugging and swaying near the flickering oven lightbulb.

Today was going to be one of those days for sure. Everything he did rubbed you the wrong way.

He had not done the dishes last night, deciding to stay up late and drink himself into a deep slumber. When you woke up, wrapped in your falling-apart-at-the-seams robe and saw the dishes, you wanted to throw an empty beer bottle at him. But you didn’t. You just did them and didn’t say a word.

Then there was leaving his wet clothes in the washing machine. The moment your nose got a whiff of the despicable scent of molding clothes, you slammed the top down and groaned his name. He was not even in the house, deciding as soon as he woke up that he needed to go get a pack of cigarettes from the gas station.

Then there was him being adamant about washing his van with the hose you were trying to use to water the dying plants in the flower beds surrounding your front door. You just grit your teeth, jerking your head into a nod when he asked for it.

Now here he is, making you mad again as you sweat all of your body weight over some weeds.

“I’m having some of the guys over tonight for some burgers-�� “No.”

He narrows his eyes at you, swatting a gnat away from his face as you place your hands on your hips.

“Why not?”

You had a list. A big long list. The house was a disaster. The neighbors called a noise complaint last time. The grill needed propane.

This was the tipping point. “Eddie, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you in our front yard,” You blow up, throwing off your gardening gloves, “You haven’t done shit for this house in months. I am like your own little personal housewife. I am the only person in this house that keeps it nice and clean. I haven’t had a night out in months because I am using my weekends to keep up with this shithole. I haven’t had a guy over in over a year, for fucks sake! No guy wants to fuck a girl who lives with a shitty roommate who can’t even clean. I need… I need your help.”

His demeanor shifts, his shoulders slumping a bit. You did not mean for the word vomit to come out like that. You sounded vicious, but all of it needed to come out at sometime.

“Sweetheart-” But you do not want his excuses. You wave him off, storming towards the front door and swinging open the glass door, letting it shut behind you. You needed cold A/C on your face. You were about to pass out from anger and heatstroke. Damn Indiana summers.

Eddie launches the door open, practically chasing you down to the kitchen. You stand under a vent, tilting your face directly towards the line of air.

“What do you need my help with?” He asks, a slight arrogance in his tone.

You don’t even look at him. You just hum as the cold air caresses your face. “The dishes. The laundry. Fuckin’ clean a toilet-”

“And what about guys not coming over?”

You finally tilt your head over at him, confused. “Huh?”

He looks at you with this fire in his eyes that you have almost never seen before. Maybe once or twice when one of his ex girlfriend’s said something based. He did not seem angry, per se, but he seemed agitated.

He crosses his arms over his chest, covering the Metallica logo on the front of his black tank top. His arms are toned and sprawling with randomly harsh lined tattoos. You had to thank Steve for the toned muscles as he was forcing Eddie to lift weights with him twice a week. You are definitely seeing the results.

“You said no guy wants to fuck a girl who lives with a shitty roommate,” He states plainly, leaning against the kitchen island, “How am I supposed to help you with that?”

It’s like he’s trying to hint at something. Eddie was notorious for not saying what he really wanted to say, just simply talking around the subject.

“Let me have a night off where I’m not cleaning up after you. Maybe I can bring a guy home.”

He cocks his head to the side, pursing his lips as his eyes take you in your sweaty clothing. You had sweat dripping into places you never knew you even had. You felt better being in the air conditioning, but that did not disguise the already stained areas of the front of your oversized t-shirt and biker shorts.

“You don’t need me to… do anything else?”

Will this be fifth time Eddie Munson pisses you off today?

“Say what you need to say, Munson,” You warn, annoyed by the creeping smile on his face.

You watch as he uncrosses his arms, leaning forward towards you. “Do you need me to fuck you, princess? Is that what this is?”

Your jaw hits the floor at his offer.

“What? H-how are you getting that from this-” “You just need a good fuck to release all this tension. It’s written all over you.”

He has never been this bold before. It’s blowing your mind. He has never propositioned sex to you, ever. Maybe jokingly. Wait, last week he did suggest it to get rid of your period cramps-

“You have to be kiddin’ me, Munson.”

He shakes his head, dipping his head down to meet your eyes, “I’m deadly serious, princess.”

“You’re just sayin’ this to piss me off even more-”

He presses his pointer finger to your lips, shushing you immediately, “All this talk and I’m not hearing a no.”

You swat his hand away, groaning in annoyance. You gave Eddie props, he was very convincing when he wanted to be. But you knew better.

But then again, it had been a year since a guy pleased you.

“Eddie, you know the promise we made all those years ago. No kissing. No sex,” You lean further away, your back arching over the counter. “You can’t just propose this because I am angry at you and want you to take some accountability.”

“I’m not proposing this because I wanna weasel my way out of trouble. I’m doing it because you have been so tense these last couple months, I feel like I am walking on eggshells,” He explains, tossing his hands in the air dramatically, “Just let me get it out of your system. I know it’s been a year or so.”

“How do you know?”

You were trying to find a way out. The deepest darkest secret you held in the very depths of your heart was that you did have feelings for Eddie. You have since high school. But Eddie was occupied in every place in life and you got the permanent label as friend before you even had a chance. He dated around and you were stuck secretly obsessing over him, which- whatever. It was fine.

All his passes at you were just normal at this point. You never gave them a second thought. You were idle in the idea that it was just jokes and that he never meant it. Even when he said he would give you head to make you feel better when the last guy you dated broke up with you. Or when he told you that he liked the way your hands felt pressed against his bare chest when you helped him apply sunscreen. Or when-

Wait... Did friends usually say that to each other?

“How do I know what?” He asks, his voice wavering a bit.

You huff, “How do you know it’s been a year?”

A mischievous smile spreads across his lips, “Because the last time I heard you through the wall moaning and begging, was about March of last year. It’s currently June.”

The heat rises back to your cheeks as you stare at him wide eyed. You did not realize he was even home when you last had someone over, let alone knew he heard it all.

“Eddie! You sick bastard! You listened?!”

You go to smack his chest but he snatches your hand away, the darkness in his eyes only hinting at his intentions.

“How can I not? You were so loud for that guy,” He almost looks jealous. Almost.

“I-“

“Just begging for him to let you cum. Did you, sweetheart? Did you cum for that slimeball?”

Your mouth opens slightly, realizing his hand is still wrapped around your wrist. No ease in the tension around it, just white-knuckling it.

“I don’t remember-“

“Those moans sounded too good to be true, princess. But what do I know,” He sits back against the counter again, pulling your body closer as he does, “You’ve never cum for me. Maybe you actually do sound like that.”

You really should not. You should just yank your arm away from him and mark this down as Eddie just being a perv again. But something inside you, the tension, the annoyance, the desire, is starting to burn a pit in your stomach.

“I can.”

He raises his eyebrows, pulling your wrist and hand up to his shoulder so you rest it there. You grip onto his bare shoulder, while his arm snakes around your waist.

“You can what?”

Your mouth goes dry, unsure if you can actually mutter the words. You usually had no filter with Eddie, but right now you felt like your voice completely cut out. He looks down at you, his head tilted in curiosity. “Say it, sweetheart. You can what?”

You grit your teeth, finally submitting.

“I could cum for you.”

He arrogantly smirks, his fingers sneaking up under your shirt, “Yeah, princess? You wanna cum for me?”

Coming from his lips, it’s like melted butter. It seems so natural, his voice dropping as he speaks such absurd things to you. You smack your lips together, almost like you are contemplating giving in. But your mind is already made up.

Before you can even give him a taste of his own medicine, your mind slips.

“If only you make me scream like those other girls.”

Fuck. Why did you say that?

His mouth only widens, shocked at the statement. “So you were listening to me, huh? You called me a sick bastard mere moments ago when you were doing the same thing!”

Your fingers pinch his earlobe, making him flinch a bit. “Eddie, you cannot help but be loud! Neither can they!”

Your defense is weak, but you try to sound convincing.

“Well they are screaming for a reason, sweetheart.”

You dismiss the comment for a minute, really trying to mull this idea over. Would this cost you his friendship? Was it all really worth it?

Your nails trail down and dig into his shoulder blade, warningly. “Do you seriously want to do this?”

He shrugs, casually, like this is the most normal conversation you two have ever had. “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get you in my bed for years. Seems like I just gotta get you all angry and hot for you to even think about it.”

The revelation deflates you a bit. You mentally slap yourself, thinking back to all the times Eddie has offered you ‘time’ with him in bed. You always took his passes as jokes, because that’s just Eddie. He’s never been serious a day in his life.

You press your body into him more, your nose getting closer to his, “You’ve wanted this for years?”

He nudges your nose with his, playfully, “Don’t act all surprised.”

The tension is at an all time high. The moment your eyes drop to his lips, you cannot peel them away from them. You have been close to him like this before, but never with explicit intentions. Maybe just to tease him or pester him. One time to inspect a possible bug that flew into his eye.

Eddie was your friend. Best friend.

Why was he looking different?

He notes the way you are silent, observing the way his lips curl upward into a toothless grin.

He shifts down, capturing your lips in a hesitant kiss, testing the waters. When the softness of his lips makes impact on your slightly dry lips, you feel self-conscious for a beat.

That was until you felt Eddie’s other hand sneak around your waist and pull you even closer. It’s the quiet reassurance you did not even know you needed.

You lean into it, practically falling into his chest completely. The kiss only progresses from there. Your hand cradles his neck as his hands sneak down from your waist to your ass. You had seen Eddie kiss before, but having it be done to you is a completely different experience. He’s hungry for it, but he’s also so tender and calculated with the movements.

The groping turns into him leveraging you upward onto the countertop. He slots himself between your legs, feeling up your thighs as his tongue slips past your lips. He’s good at stimulating you in every way, your body riddled with goosebumps. You cannot help the groans leaving your throat.

“God, you’re so hot,” He grumbles between kisses. You giggle into his mouth which makes him shake his head and pull away.

You hold his face close to yours, smiling up at his lust-blown eyes. “Never thought I’d hear you say that. Well… in this situation at least.”

“Can you just shush and let me make you feel good?” His lips trail down from your cheek peppering wet kisses to your neck, “Lemme make it up to you, sweetheart. Been a bad friend. Bad roommate.”

You roll your eyes for two reasons. One, he’s a dork. Two, his lips feel way too good on your throat.

“Make it up to me by being a good lover.”

He barks a laugh, almost too loud for the joke. “Oh, you want me to make love to you?”

“Can you just keep kissin’-”

His lips touch your collarbones and suddenly your body stiffens. You look down at his sinful expression, his lips dragging lower over your chest. His hand returns to the hem of your shirt, slowly tugging it over your head. Your ratty old sports bra was the least sexy thing you could be wearing, but Eddie eyes you like you are in lacey red lingerie with his name stitched into it. You take it upon yourself to peel the sweaty bra off, luckily the only scent you smell when you lift your arms is your antiperspirant.

“You are more perfect than I imagined,” Eddie mumbles, his hands reaching out to cup your boobs. His hands still adorned with his gaudy rings. Makes the sight even more breathtaking.

You roll your eyes, not believing him, “You’ve seen me in a bathing-”

His head dips down, catching your nipple in his mouth. The action silences you and instead of continuing your nervous babbling, you moan out his name. He rolls your pebbled nipple between his teeth while hissing in satisfaction. You can not stop yourself from raking your fingers through his curls.

He pulls away from your chest, pressing a quick kiss to your other tit, “I can’t do this if you continue to give me grief.”

The dig makes you blush. You were always awful when it came to dirty talk. Making it awkward was, unfortunately, your specialty. You nod sheepishly, untangling your fingers from his deep chocolate brown hair.

“I’ll shut up.”

He shakes his head, his lips finding the spot right below your ear. You can feel the smirk on his face, "No, don’t shut up. Just keep making those other pretty sounds for me, sweetheart.”

His thumbs hook around the elastic waistband of your shorts, tugging them down. You lift your hips, using his shoulders to balance yourself. You don’t expect him to have you completely naked on your kitchen counter, but the moment your underwear peel away from your cunt, you realize that the wetness between your legs is not just sweat.

He pulls away from your neck to look at your bare body before him and the groan he lets out makes your pussy clench around nothing. His hand skips down your body, eventually groping your hips.

“Eddie,” You hum, tilting his chin up so his eyes meet yours, “I’m very naked and you are not.”

He smiles wickedly, shaking his head, “‘Cause I ain’t fuckin’ you here, sweetheart. This is just a really good place for me to get on my knees and devour you.”

You swallow hard, watching him drop to one knee, making him eye level with your glistening cunt, “And look at how beautiful and wet she is for me. This all for me, sweet girl?”

“You’re not the only one who’s been wanting this for a while,” You admit, your eyes drooping to watch his mouth move across your inner thighs. You are a bit self-conscious, not having prepared your pussy for this kind of activity, but Eddie does not seem to mind. He admires you like a piece of art at a museum.

He flicks his tongue out of his mouth, unhurriedly moving up your slit. Once he has his first taste, that smile returns, “Mmm, there’s that confession I’ve been waiting for.”

Your mind draws a blank as he dives back in, pressing his tongue between your pussy lips. He has never looked so happy doing a task in his life, his beautifully straight teeth bared as his tongue swirls around your clit. His grip only tightens on your thighs ensuring you do not move them together. He needs you nice and wide open while he tongue fucks you.

He becomes more eager with his movements the moment you try to brace yourself on the edge of the counter. His fingers hook down into your flesh, dragging you to the edge of the surface. He does not miss a beat while he suckles on your clit, wrapping his plump pink lips around it and slurping it like a straw.

The knot in your stomach is tightening as you study his actions. Somehow it is like he knows your body better than you do.

The instant he sinks his pointer and middle finger into your soaked cunt, it is game over. Your body reacts before your mind does, vibrating against his mouth and fingers. He does not slow down when you clench around him, instead, he increases his speed and ministrations.

“Jesus, fuck, Eddie,” you whimper, surrendering to the climax. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting your mouth hang ajar as random moans escape you. Your nerve endings have never felt so electrified in your life.

Once you feel a slight come down, Eddie comes back up for air. His lips are shiny with his own saliva and whatever escaped you when you came.

You drop your head back, hitting the upper cabinet.

“You didn’t even have to beg for the first one,” He grunts, getting back to his feet. He locks his arm around your knees and drags your upper half into his other arm, “But the second one, you have to ask for permission, ‘kay?”

His lips are pressed to your temple, kissing you gingerly.

“You want me to beg, Eds?”

He chuckles darkly, carrying you princess-style across the house and to the living room. He could take you to bed, but he is not sure if that feels too intimate. You just want him inside you, not caring much where he decides to do it.

You bounce on the worn-down couch as he drops you down, your bare ass immediately sticking to the leather. His discards his tank top and practically jumps on top of you, his hips resting between your legs. You greedily tug at his basketball shorts, begging to reveal the length behind the tented fabric.

“Mmm, eager, are we?”

You had seen Eddie’s ass plenty of times. His shirtless frame. But never his dick. His tight pants left little to the imagination most times. But up close, pressed against your palm, you cannot help but gasp about how big he is.

He grabs your wrist firmly, his curls dropping down his shoulders as he shakes his head, “Wanna hear you beg.”

It spills right out of your desperate mouth. “Please, Eddie.”

“Please what?”

“Let me see your cock,” Your eyes reflecting faux innocence, “Please?”

He cannot help but giggle, assisting you in getting his shorts down his tattooed legs. You had been next to him for the big one on his right thigh, an ode to his favorite Metallica album. You did not completely understand the concept, but the black ink littering his body only added to his appeal.

His cock is even better than your mind had mocked up before. Long, slightly curved to the left, and not too thick that he may split you in half.

You truly cannot fathom the fact that this is happening. He is willingly showing you his dick and smiling at you while you gawk.

He is naked above you, and God is he breathtaking. The mop of curls, the broadness of his shoulders, his very slight tummy from all the beer he drinks, the works of art littering his pale skin.

Your eyes finally make their way back up to his, only to note the serious look he’s giving you.

“What?”

His lips twitch, “Just can’t believe I finally get to do this. And that it’s real and it’s not all in my head.”

Your heart stutters.

You lick your lips, searching every crevice of your mind for a response. He realizes that you are trying to muddle up a reply and that he has broken your brain temporarily. So instead of letting you counter his statement, he captures your lips in a bruising kiss.

He wastes no time after that, grabbing his dick and pushing it between your slick folds. You groan into his mouth, your pussy still very sensitive from the first orgasm he gave you. Your hand snakes around the back of his neck, holding his face close to yours.

“Eddie-“

He pushes into you before you can say anything else, a hiss whistling between his clenched teeth.

“God damn,” He throws his head back, shaking your hand away from his neck, “You’re fuckin’ tight, princess.”

The moan that leaves your throat is a whole octave lower than your actual voice. Eddie looks down at you, the widest smile painted across his face. You feel his hips inch closer and closer to you and you realize he is not fully inside you yet.

You take a breath, trying to relax your muscles, “Please, please, please.”

He snaps his hips forward, a dark guttural chuckle taunting you. “There she is. Beggin’.”

Eddie had changed into a completely different person. Sure, he was always picking on you, but this was a stark contrast from your silly best friend. The man above you, slowly rocking his hips inside you, was feral. His confidence only burning brighter the more you whimper for him.

“Please, faster.”

The wet squelching noise that emits between your bodies is borderline embarrassing. You had never heard such a sound with any other man. Eddie loves it, though. The idea that you were just gushing for him is enough to send him into overdrive.

“Yeah? You want me to go faster,” He pushes your thighs apart, spreading you wider. He wants to look at how beautiful your pussy looks stuffed full of him. “Look at that.”

You shift yourself up on your elbows, looking down at the sight he cannot peel his eyes away from. “Jesus, I cannot believe…”

You drift off, watching Eddie slowly retreat back only to sharply snap forward. Your jaw goes slack as he drives himself into you, disappearing over and over again.

Eddie‘s eyes are now on you, watching your tits jiggle every time his cock pierces your squishy walls.

“You really needed this, huh, princess?”

You watch as he reaches down between your bodies, swiping your clit with his thumb.

Your eyes roll back, unable to hold yourself together, “I really did, oh my god.”

Your legs stiffen and Eddie’s hands loosen up, letting you squirm and adjust yourself. Your hips burn and your mind is mush. Eddie’s erratic movements against your swollen bud and his rapidly moving hips are overstimulating, you cannot help but lock your legs around him.

“Yeah, I can fucking feel you clenching around me,” He babbles, licking his lips, “You just take my cock so well, don’t you? Just fuckin’ made for me.”

He does not stop talking as you grunt your response. You have never seen the man so driven to get something done in your life. He wants to cum, but he wants to feel you fall apart on him even more. His words are just pouring out of him.

“Yeah? You want me to make you mine, huh? Gonna make this pussy somethin’ only I can have.“

Your eyes fly open in shock, his words ringing in your ears. You feel his dick twitch inside you, hitting the same perfect spot over and over again. “Please, please.”

“Fuck, say it, baby. Say that you’re mine.”

He is so desperate, his usual calm, cool, collected voice faltering.

“I’m yours, Eddie.”

His thumb presses hard down on your clit, causing your hips to shift upward. The nerve endings that were ablaze before are now imploding.

The vibration of your body catches him off guard at first, so he locks his hands on your hips. You lurch your body into a crescent shape as he continues to chase his high. A final scream rips through your body, chanting his name.

Every snap forward was another word slipping from his practically drooling mouth. He fucked his cum deep inside you, his words bouncing off the walls.

“Yes.” “The.” “Fuck.” “You.” “Are.”

Your body goes completely limp under him the moment your high dissipates. He is panting like he just ran 10 miles as he slowly drifts to his side, positioning his nude body between your body and the back couch cushions. When his cock leaves your cunt, he dribbles cum over your mound and lower tummy. You glance down at your body, completely blissed out.

You have never felt more appreciated in your life.

He lays his head right on your shoulder, fanning your sweaty body with his warm breath. He does not say anything, just settles next you, throwing his arm over your midsection.

You swallow, trying to regain your composure. You thought after doing something like this with Eddie, you would feel some guilt. Regret, maybe. But none of those emotions spring up.

You felt relaxed and at peace. Like you walked off the edge of a cliff and instead of landing on a rocky bottom, you landed on a sea of fluffy pillows. It was a relief.

Your eyes fall onto his lazily smirking face, “I did really need that.”

He hums his response at first, before clearing his throat. “Yeah, I could tell. I can read you pretty well, huh?”

That’s the understatement of the century. He can read you perfectly.

You start to reflect on every word that spilled from his lips during the entire interaction, and suddenly your stomach is in knots. You start to wonder if he really did feel those things, or if he was just lost in the moment. You almost don’t ask in fear that he will tell you something you didn’t want to hear.

“Did you mean everything you said,” You press, your hand absentmindedly tucking some of his hair behind of his ear. His fingers dance across your flesh, eventually swirling around your collarbones.

“Yeah, ‘course.”

He says it so simply. You wanted to believe it was that easy, but there is logistical things that needed to be discussed. Feelings and thoughts that needed further explanation.

Eddie can see that your mind is racing. Your expression gives you away every time. His mouth slowly opens to further elaborate on his response, but before he can get out a word, there’s a pounding at your front door.

It is so sudden and loud, you both sit up from the couch.

“Mr. Munson! You left your hose on! There’s a drought-”

You tune out the rest of the rant from your elderly neighbor because Eddie starts chuckling and rubbing his eyes. He looks down at you as the rant starts to get louder, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips before grabbing his boxers off the floor.

“You stay there, beautiful. I’ll deal with this.”

You do as he says, the bliss he left you in after the kiss enough to hold you over until he comes crawling back on top of you. He stumbles back into his boxers, going to the front door and cracking it so he can get eyes on your neighbor.

“Yeah, my fault, Mr. O’Connell. Had to comfort my lady because she cut herself on the shovel. I’ll be right out to shut off that hose and save the rainforest or whatever.”

You hear a scoff from behind the door, the older gentleman taken off guard. “Oh, so she’s your lady now?”

You can hear the smile that spreads across his face. “Always has been, sir.”

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whateveriwant · 2 years ago

Note

Task force 141 reacting to their very pregnant wife still trying to clean, cook etc

This turned more into ‘Task force 141 preventing their very pregnant wife from trying to clean, cook, etc’ lmaooooo I hope that's alright

Price

HA! Good one!

No seriously, it's actually hilarious that you think you'd do anything for yourself when your hubby's around

That man has been waiting on you hand and foot since you first got together. So now that you're pregnant and you think he'd let you so much as lift a finger? You must have a serious case of pregnancy brain, sweetheart

Price is doing all the cooking, the cleaning, the running errands, etc. throughout the entirety of your pregnancy (and at least the first several months postpartum)

He's kept you practically bed bound these last few months to the point where you think there's a perfect indent of your body molded into the mattress

Seven months in, he's suddenly called away to a quick mission halfway across the globe, and you think finally you'll get some of your autonomy back...

Well, think again because who should show up at your door the next morning than your mother-in-law herself, ready to pick up where her son left off

She came at the behest of your husband, of course, and was armed with a detailed set of care instructions

What does your husband think you are? Some sort of one-of-a-kind, priceless artifact that needs special handling? (Actually that's exactly what you are. Price-less… I'll see myself out 🚶🏻‍♀️)

Ghost

When it comes to having some semblance of independence during your pregnancy, Ghost will give you a bit of a longer leash than Price, but only just so

You’re going for a walk around the neighborhood? Hold on, let him grab his coat to join you. Or you're going into the backyard to tend the garden? He'll pull the weeds while you water the plants

But when it comes to letting you do certain things, there are some hard nos that he will absolutely not budge on

You try to use a stepladder to reach the top of the cupboard? Stop! You'll break your neck! You try to pick up anything heavier than 10 pounds? Stop! Give it here! You try to drive?... Don't even fuckin' think about it, precious.

The farther along your pregnancy progresses, the better he gets at predicting (and intercepting) your next move

You were gonna do laundry today? Well, wouldn't you know, he's already got a load going in the washer. You were about to make dinner? Well shucks, he just ordered takeaway from that Greek place you love

His ability to read your mind is honestly impressive once you get past how damn annoying you find it. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're incapable of fending for yourself, and you're tired of him acting as if otherwise

But really, you can never get mad at anything he does for you. After all, what kind of a husband would he be if he didn't take care of his missus and your little one?

Soap

If you take Ghost’s cautiousness, mix it with Price’s thoroughness, and crank it up to an 11, you get Soap

From the moment he found out you were pregnant, he put your house into full lockdown mode, stopping just short of booby trapping the front door in case you got any funny ideas

You want some fresh air? Just open a window. You want to go for a walk and stretch your legs? Just take a few turns about the living room like you're some Austenian heroine

Don't let him catch you doing any kind of physical labor, because so help him Jesus he will grab a spray bottle and use it like you're a feral alleycat he's trying to house-train (he wouldn't really... but don't test him)

You try to unload the dishwasher? Ehrr! Wrong move. You try to remake the bed? Ehrr! Nice try. You try to mop up your own mess. Ehrr! Enough already. You try to– OCH, WOULD YE BLOODY SIT DOWN, WOMAN?!

For nine long months during his requested leave from work, your husband is attached to you like some kind of loving, smothering barnacle

But doesn't he miss his job, or the lads for that matter? What if the world needs saving? What will they do without him?

Well, (in his exact words) fuck the rest of the world! You're his world, bonnie, and he'll give you everything you could ever wish for and then some

Gaz

By far, you have the most independence with Gaz than you would with any of the other three men… at least, at the beginning of your pregnancy, that is

Once you get to around five or six months he becomes just as helicopter-y as all the others; he's just ever so slightly more bearable, perhaps

There's lots of peeking his head around the corner to check on you throughout the day or appearing seemingly out of thin air whenever you're doing something he'd rather you wouldn't

You've lost count of the number of times you've been in the middle of cooking or hanging up the laundry or whatever and his hand has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gently taking the object from you before directing you to sit and rest

And like, look. He knows you can handle yourself. He knows you could conquer the whole world if you wanted to. That's one of the things he loves about you the most

But seeing you like this – so fragile, so vulnerable, so beautiful and soft and pregnant with his child; his child – it just… It makes him…

He just needs to do these things for you, alright, love? Just let him take care of you, please? Would you let him do that?

You already have so much you have to carry. Let him ease some of the burden off your shoulders. Let him do these small things for you because they don't even compare to all that you're doing for him 🥲

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 25 days ago

Text

GOLDEN HOUR- D. GRAYSON

day nine of the june bug masterlist

pairing: dick grayson x florist! fem! reader (sex pollen)

word count: 4.1k

summary: a handsome stranger has captured your heart and affections, so its only natural you call for him when a mysterious plant sprays you in your flower shop, and you start to feel... rather funny.

warnings: SMUT, sex pollen used, riding dick grayson on the floor (hell yeah), heavy praise kink, lots of petnames, grinding/ dry humping, man handling, fluff and yearning, making out, swearing, slight masturbation

“ baby, don't you know? that you're my golden hour, the color of my sky/ you set my world on fire, and i know, i know everything's gonna be alright”- golden hour, kacey musgraves

The birds chirping in the morning was so peaceful it reminded you of heaven on earth.

Or at least- your version of it.

It reminded you of the soft countryside you called home, before you moved to the big scary city of Gotham. All you needed now was the soft hum of the lawnmowers from the neighbours, or the soft patter of rain that was an open invitation for you to go out in your bare feet, letting the morning dew tickle your toes as you searched for frogs in nothing but your nightgown.

But sadly, home was far away now- and so was the country.

It was a burning dream of yours to go back, to build or find a little cottage where you could grow all the flowers you wanted, having a little garden, filled with sweet delights like berries you could make into jam for your homemade sourdough.

With whoever tended to your dreams with you.

It was what you were working for. And if you found someone along the way, you supposed it would make the cloudy days a bit more comforting.

For now, the closest you could get was your little job at the local florist shop.

It brought you joy, especially on sunny days like today, where business was booming and you could meet lovely people of all ages. Either trying to get some tulip bulbs they could plant in their yard in the fall, or if they needed a bouquet for their loved ones.

The thought of your regular, a sweet older woman named Barbra made you smile at the idea she’d come in, grumbling as usual about the traffic or whatever it may be, just to burst into a smile as soon as she saw you tie a new bouquet together with pink ribbon.

You always snuck her a little flower, typically a baby's breath for her under the counter, to add to her collection of random florals.

You stretched, letting the rarity of sunlight in Gotham trickle through your window and onto your face, savouring the warmth of the summer months. Although you noticed it was a lot more sunny than you were told it would be, since moving here.

An odd fluke, you supposed.

Taking your time, as you always woke up early enough to savour the light of the day as if you were Snow White herself, you made your bed, sheets smelling of the lavender spray from the florals you’d collected yourself.

Next was the tea of course, herbals often woke you up. Letting the soft lace of your nightgown brush your thighs, you headed towards the kitchen towards the kettle, the fresh batch of scones you made the other night your next destination.

As you waited for the water to boil, you couldn't help but lean back against the counter, a soft smile on your face as you observed your indoor plants.

It wasn't the end goal, but it was a beautiful pit-stop along the way. And that, you could be happy with.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Barbra’s presence could be felt before it could be heard.

You peered up at her little frame, slightly hunched over, but in working condition, nonetheless. You called her a well oiled machine. She called herself a grouchy piece of shit.

But today, something was different.

Was that… a smile on her face? Before she had come inside to greet you?

Odd.

You peered out the window, trying not to seem too obvious as you glanced outside, and saw her talking to… a man?

A beautiful man, at that. Tall, at least a foot or so taller than you, his muscles practically bulging out of his little Black Canary Tour shirt.

You could tie a pretty pink ribbon around them just for it to snap the second he did so much as move his bicep.

But what really captivated you was the baby blues that gleamed at Barbra. The way his smile seemed to twinkle in the sun, real and genuine as he laughed. He was so animated, hands moving as he talked, before his fingers pointed to you.

You froze.

Quickly scurrying away, out of sight to make yourself busy, and to tend to your racing heart.

Soon, a little jingle of the shop bell rang out, and you poked your head out from the daisies, preparing for the worst.

“You’re smiling? Who are you, and what did you do with Barbra?” you teased, making her laugh.

“You got yourself a suitor out there eh? A handsome one at that.” Barbra smiled, wacking your arm gently with her newspaper. Your eyes widened.

“Suitor?”

“Yeah dolly he’s right into ya. I was about to go harass him, as he was staring at you a little too much for my liking, like some black cat on a windowsill. Spooked the damn boy, was about to give him hell until I saw the look in his eye.”

You raised your eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What look in his eye?”

“Love.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Love. Right.”

“You know better than to question me girl. I know best. I’ve lived a lot more lives than you, and I know what love looks like. That man is head over heels.”

Something like warmth bloomed in your chest at her words, and you couldn't help but hope it was true. He was so handsome, and if he could manage to make Barbra laugh, there must have been something about him that was special.

“I’m sure. In love with a nobody flower shop girl who clips flower stems in her free time.”

“The most beautiful girl in the city, who happens to clip flower stems in her free time. Now, shut up and give me some sunflowers dear. I’m on my way to bridge practice and I need to get these to my sister.”

You nodded, collecting her flowers and ignoring her payment.

“Well, get on then you grouch.”

She laughed, slipping you a twenty despite your protests, and was out the door before you could process the sneaky bill slip she performed and give it back to her.

For an older woman, she was fast.

The bell rang again, and you expected her to toss another comment about getting your head out of your ass, but you were royally surprised when the handsome stranger was there instead.

Sun shown from the back of his head, illuminating him like he was an angel, halo burning brightly. You urged yourself to not let his beauty consume you.

“Do you always just watch girls from outside their work, or is this special treatment?” you asked, leaning against the counter.

He smiled. “Only you. Isn't that so cheesy?”

“Or creepy, depending on how you look at it. But Barbra likes you. So I suppose I can find it in my heart to forgive you for your vigilante activities.”

His hand went to his heart, bowing his head almost in solitude.

“She really knows how to scare a man.”

“I heard one time she twisted a man's balls so hard he had to go to the hospital, because he thought they were going to fall off.”

You laughed at his shocked reaction, turning into an easy grin as he walked towards you, towering over you from behind the counter.

“Now, are you here to buy anything? Or just flirt with me?” you asked boldly.

“Both. Is that okay?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks and you looked away quickly, shrugging.

“Suppose.”

“Y/N…” he read your delicate nametag, the writing in your own penmanship, swirly, girly font with a little blooming tulip next to it.

“Forgive me if this question sounds odd but… what's a pretty thing like you doing in Gotham? You’re the human form of the sun. You shine so brightly here it's almost blinding.”

You froze at his words, trying to not let them know how much they impact you.

You’re the human form of the sun.

No one, no man- had ever said anything so kind to you. So near and dear to your heart. It nearly caught you off guard. All you could do was smile at him softly, batting your lashes at him as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, letting your bracelets jangle.

“I’m here to shine.” was all you said as you shrugged, turning your back to him to gather flowers that matched his energy.

You didn't even know what he was in here for. You were too flustered to ask.

Instead, you felt his eyes following your figure as you selected the blossoms, reaching up on your tiptoes to select some that were out of reach.

Soft blues and whites- blue stars, baby's breath, and columbines. You sprinkled in some soft yellows, buttercups and primroses. Tying it all together with a soft, pale baby blue ribbon, humming to yourself softly.

“For…?” you asked, pen hovering just above the little card.

“Dick. Dick Grayson.” You nodded, writing his name, and feeling even so bold as to even scratch your number just under it. Maybe your countryside future could be closer than you thought.

And by the look on his face as he saw your number on that very same tea stained card, he must have thought the same.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

You had fallen.

Hard.

And god, could anyone blame you?

God himself couldn't blame you, for all the time Richard Grayson had swirled through your mind, clouding your thoughts until they were sprinkles of pollen.

He was sweet, like the lemonade you made for him when he first came over to visit your place.

He had a green thumb. He liked mint chocolate chip ice cream, which you would never give him the satisfaction of knowing, but you liked it too. He was polite, always holding the door for you, a soft palm on your back as he’d lead you inside, always closing his eyes whenever you changed in front of him, claiming it wasn't gentleman like to watch a woman change (though you caught his fingers peel from his eyes a few times).

He was an animal lover. He was nurturing, and wanting nothing more than to provide for you.

And he always listened. About anything, really- but especially when you talked about your future.

With him in it.

It made his heart swell up so large he feared it would break his ribcage, at the mention of your garden, and your chickens, dogs, ducks, cats- the homemade meals and soft cuddles by the stone fireplace.

All involving him.

Of course you included his interests- referring to the dogs as his dogs, mentioning his favourite dishes, and his brothers coming to visit whenever they wanted. Talks on your couch turned into sweet kisses, gentle touches and addicting tastes of mint, coffee and the musk of cinnamon.

It was all you had wanted, and if God, or anyone judged you for the temptations of Eve’s apple, it was something you’d collect seeds from and grow yourself.

An apple tree of temptation, the branches of Dicks embrace wrapping you tightly.

Barbra noticed it too, the effect he had on you. How somehow- someway, she had stated, you seemed even more bright.

Butterflies had practically found their way to you, fluttering on the flowers outside the store, resting on your fingers as you sent them off to the sun. Birds chirped even louder, the faint smell of honey and cinnamon a constant warm embrace around you as you left Dicks arms in the morning, spreading your wings to go off on your own, to tend to the store.

It was an unusual day today though, you noted.

It was cloudier than it had been lately, though that was Gotham. Light sprinkles of rain pattered off your umbrella as you walked to the floral shop, and despite the rain, you still found it in your heart to smile at anyone who passed by.

It was quiet today, and you had expected just as much. Tonight would be equally as quiet, as Dick had plans with his brother, Jason. You urged him to go off and do his own thing, as even sometimes you needed your own space.

Tonight would be filled with fluffy blankets, buttery popcorn, some mint chip ice cream, and superhero movies. A perfect night, in your opinion. Perhaps a beeswax candle could be lit- a reminder of Dicks sweet smell that stained the pillows.

Your thoughts of the Friday night ahead were whisked away as a customer stepped inside, shaking the rain from her bright red hair.

She smiled, waving slightly as she adjusted her very large purse, starting to browse around. You smiled back, turning your back to resume your task, letting her browse in peace. You never liked to hound anyone, knowing how annoying it could be as a customer yourself, when pesky store owners nagged at you, or pressured you to buy something you were having doubts on.

Plus, if she had questions, she’d ask.

You were approachable enough. Or at least you hoped you were.

By the time you turned around again, she was out of sight. Nothing left of her but the gentle chime of the door bell as her heels clicked against the pavement.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

As you were doing your rounds before closing, something had you stop in your tracks.

A plant.

Of course, a plant was not out of place in a florist shop, but this particular one, captured your attention. It was foreign to you, which was unusual, considering you had spent countless years pouring over plant textbooks, and gathering as much hands-on experience in the garden that you could muster.

But this… this was not something you had ordered in.

Then how the hell had it gotten here?

You picked up the pot, observing the unusual markings on the petals. It was beautiful, the flowers almost mimicking those of a lilly. But you knew deep down, it wasn't.

As you picked up the pot, you were blinded.

You gasped, inhaling pollen as it sprayed at you, almost like a mist of freckles that splattered on your cheeks, getting in your nose, your mouth, clouding your vision.

You coughed, setting the plant down where it had rested, waving the air as your vision blurred, tears starting to trickle down your cheeks. Making your way over to the counter, you started to sneeze and cough, feeling as if the vapors were choking you.

At least you could see now, scrambling off your apron and tossing it somewhere- unknown to you.

You’d deal with it tomorrow. For now, you needed fresh air, and a clear head. Whatever had sprayed you, it was having an effect- fast.

Your body felt tense. Like it had been strung up on a live wire. Heat curled in your gut, strong and fast- like a current that threatened to drag you under its vicious waves.

Sweat dotted at your forehead, your fingers curling into fists. It was so hot you fought the urge not to strip naked and lay on the cool wooden floor.

But no, god no- you needed to get home. To lay down, get some rest, and let this do its thing.

But your head was clouded. Foggy.

All you knew was that you felt hot, bothered and needy.

You wanted Dick. But Dick was with his brother and he needed time to himself, and to enjoy his family… and yet you dialed his number anyways.

He would know what to do. He could help you, could touch you, could take away this pain, this need- this want that consumed you whole- like Goya's Satan consuming your very flesh.

It took two quick rings before his gentle voice answered, quickly turning to concern as you moaned.

“Sweetheart? What's going on?”

“Some plant. I found some plant when I was closing, I don't know what the hell it is but it sprayed me and now I can’t- I can't think- God its so hot-” you panted, slouching against the counter, grounding yourself onto the floor as you let your head lull back.

“Fuck. Fuck sweetheart, where are you now? I’m coming right now.”

“N-no s’okay stay with Jason. I just didn't know if you knew-” you hiccuped, groaning again as you felt your clothes start to stick to your body.

“If you knew what it was. Maybe I can sleep it off.”

You heard a low voice in the background, catching some of the words the man, presumably Jason, mumbled. “Its Ivy. That sex pollen shit we saw a while ago, but fuck Bruce hasnt found a cure yet.”

“Sweetheart, did anyone new come into the shop today that looked unfamiliar?”

You nodded, even though you knew he couldn't see you. The drug was making you hazy.

“Some redhead came in with a large purse. But I didn't think anything of it. She was gone before I could offer her help.”

You heard cursing on the other line, before Dick begged for you to stay conscious. “I’m gonna be right there sweetheart, you just stay put okay? Shut the blinds, lock the door and if it's me, I’ll knock three times.”

You tossed your phone as he hung up, tugging at your top. You had turned the air on, yet it felt so stuffy and hot you felt like you might puke.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck I need-” you gasped, letting your hands cup your breasts, toying at your hardened nipples through the lacy floral bra fabric, feeling heavy and aching. You started to unbutton your pants, shimmying them off your body, sweat sticking to them.

Trapped in your own head, you let your fingers trace your body, but it wasn't enough.

Whatever had sprayed you, it wanted more. It wanted him.

And almost as if it was some divine intervention, the plant weaving its vines around Dick Grayson to tug him to the front door, you heard three quick wraps on a knuckle on the door.

“Sweetheart? It's me honey, can you let me in please? I’m gonna make you feel better okay?”

You groaned, starting to crawl to the front door, reaching up to unlock the door for your savour. And fuck, the sight before him made him hard.

It felt wrong, and dirty to feel so turned on at the sight of you- but he couldn't help it.

There you were, on your knees, looking up at him with so much need in your eyes, lips quivering as sweat trickled down your neck. The pollen stained your cheeks like golden freckles, like constellations in the sky that sang to him.

“Oh my poor, sweet girl.” he cooed, locking the door behind him as he crouched down, cupping your cheek with his palm, stroking little circles gently with his thumb.

“M’gonna make you feel better little dove, okay? You just tell me what you need from me. But we gotta, we gotta get this out of your system.”

You nodded, wincing slightly, not from pain- but from overstimulation as his hand trickled down to stroke your bare collarbones, eyes darting to your pretty pink floral set that sent his mind reeling.

“H-how do we fix this Dickie?” you whimpered, his heart nearly crackling into pieces at how sweet his nickname sounded from your cherry blossom lips.

“Well it's a sex pollen honey so I think- well we have to…”

“Have sex?” you asked and he nodded.

“That would make me feel better. All I can think of and feel is this fuzzy, burning need. It hurts.”

He cooed, letting his hand rest just above your throbbing core. “Right here honey? Is this where it hurts?”

You nodded frantically, guiding his hand down to your soaked panties, juices already coating his fingers from the simple brush of his fingers.

He groaned, the sound making you whimper in delight.

“And right here. M’so sorry Dickie-”

“No, no you don't get to apologise for this honey. You take what you need from me, okay? I’m gonna help you feel all better again, get that fuzziness out of your head.”

Your hands slipped up to tangle in his hair, tugging at the soft, dark raven locks hungrily as your lips found his. He melted into your touch, and you couldn't help but savour the feeling of dominance you had over him.

Even if it was an illusion.

You felt so hungry you couldn't help but straddle him, letting your hands roam over his body, touching anywhere you could reach. It was as if he had been sprayed as well, with the way he was touching you back.

Manhandling you up into his lap, gripping your ass as you began to grind on the fly of his jeans, letting the cool flicker of the zipper soothe your ache as you dampened the fabric.

Guiding you with his hands, urging you to do whatever you wanted to him. As if he was in this as much as you were.

Your equal.

“Need- need you now please.” you practically whined, tugging his shirt over his head, his warm chest now flush with yours, his fingers toying with the back of your bra strap. You gasped as it fell, sliding down your arms, his fingers wrapping around the nipple and tugging on it harshly.

The pain was delicious. You needed more.

“Take what you need sweetheart. My sweet flower.”

You wasted no time tugging his pants off, throwing them haphazardly on the floor with your undergarments, hands guiding him down to the floor.

“You’re so good to me.” you whispered, head bowing as he ran his cock through your soaked folds, before slowly guiding himself in.

Your eyes widened, as if sparks had gone off and illuminated throughout your body.

This. This was what you needed.

All of this, the feeling of him stretching you, guiding you in with such compassion and tender praises, cooing at your little expressions and sounds as he filled you to the brim.

It was as if the pain had stopped, just briefly. Dick Grayson was your cure.

“Big stretch I know baby. I’m sorry, I didn't have time to prep you m’just worried… oh-” he was cut off by your sudden movements, riding him like your life depended on it.

Which it did. You didn't have time to waste. And it was like this thing- this pollen had taken hold of your body, and you were a puppet on its strings.

Gripping his chest, your nails dug and scratched him as you tossed your head back, letting him admire you as much as he wanted. The way your lips hung open as your sweet little moans trailed from them, your forehead scrunched in concentration, letting the waves of the pleasure consume you.

Your eyes, closed, lashes fluttering your cheeks, crying out his name.

The sight alone almost had Dick Grayson come undone. But he had to hold off for you, had to help you first. That was always his rule.

“There you go sweetheart, doing so good for me. Feels so fuckin good oh my god- ridin me like that..” he cooed, hands firm on your hips as he thrusted up, meeting you half way.

Until he couldn't control himself, picking a rhythm that you mindlessly followed, body going limp as he pounded into you- taking control. Knowing that was what you needed.

You didn't even need to tell him where you were, he knew, could feel you squeezing him.

“Let go for me honey. Good girl..” he cooed softly, holding you close to his chest as you came down from your high, legs quivering as you clung to him like a teddy bear.

“Is it over?” You asked softly, your head on his steady heartbeat as he stroked your hair. He shook his head.

“I’m not sure honey. You might need a few more rounds, but I promise, you’ll be okay. Its almost out of your system.”

You nodded, feeling the surge of pleasure lap at your insides, letting it consume you wholly again.

“I’m so sorry Dickie.”

He stopped you, silencing you with a kiss. “Stop apologizing, my sweet girl. We’re gonna get through this. We’re in the home stretch, and I’ve got you. I’m here. Gonna make it all better.”

And deep down, you knew that was the truth.

It had taken a few more rounds for your fiery insides to burn down to little embers, loud moans turning to soft whimpers and hiccups. And he was there with you for all of it, on the floor, against the wall, up on the counter.

And each way he handled you, made you feel like a delicate little petal, despite your actions being anything but.

Holding you in his arms when the flush from your body subsided, and your skin had cooled to a normal temperature, when sleep consumed your body as you lay curled in his lap, his shirt acting as a blanket that you breathed in deeply.

His cum trickling down your thighs, that he had cleaned up before slipping you back into your clothes, and carrying you back to your apartment.

And you knew then, that he’d never leave you. Not now, and not ever.

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theobservatory · 3 months ago

Text

｡⁠☆I'm Baby｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+⁠

☆Tim drake x reader

☆Cw: Damian being a menace, crack/fluff

To be honest, Damian was only getting close to you to bother Drake. He didn't really have a reason for it either, but bothering is pseudo older brother is entertaining, fun even.

It's not tranquil, like painting. It's not rewarding, like training. It's not adrenaline filled, like patrol. No, it's just... Fun.

Damian can't even explain why it's fun either. There's just something about the look of utter anguish, irritation, that crosses Drake's face that just makes him smile.

It's an evil little thing, all sharp teeth and hard lines. Nothing like those big grins you see kids have in childish movies. No, he looks like a shark in fish infested waters. Like a wolf locked in a pen of sheep.

So imagine his surprise when you derail his plans by being likeable. You're clever, and kind, but not smothering like Grayson. He didn't start showing up at your window to actually get close to you, and yet here is, tucked into your side as he vents about school today.

The people at his school are utter imbeciles, and he only goes to appease his father. Not that he understands why his father sends him. He already has a friend his age, Jon! He's sure you'd be his friend too, if he asked.

... Even the thought of doing that is too humiliating to fathom.

He's sure you'd just look at him with that dumb smile that makes his chest feel tight, and you'd probably pet down his hair, and say something like "Of course we're friends! Why else would I let you crash on my couch after patrol?" Because you're good like that, and always give reasons why you do and feel things.

But he'd rather drop dead than be perceived as childish or immature. Asking someone to be your friend is playground chat, and Damian stopped going to a school with a playground this year so he's much too old for that. Instead he just rambles about how many times he's had to correct his teacher this year, because if he thinks the kids are stupid don't get him started on the adults.

You listen the whole way through, an arm wrapped around his shoulder. He's practically squished to your side. He planted himself there as soon as he got through the lock on your front door, but you don't say anything about it, you never do. It's much more tolerable than Grayson's constant cooing.

"And do you know what the worst part is?" Damian huffs, a balled fist gripping your pants.

"What?"

"She tried to correct me on the Greek Pantheon, me! It's as if my chosen aunt isn't Princess Diana of Themscryia! Imbeciles, everyone of them!"

You nod solemnly, clearly understanding Damian's plight. This is why he comes to you, no one at that blasted manor gets it. They would try and correct him, teach him to be more understanding, but you just listen! You listen, and commiserate! Like any good sibling should.

"I used to have a teacher like that. It turned out no matter what I told him, no matter what evidence I presented, he just decided that I was a lost cause anyway." You roll your eyes, picking at the stitching of Damian's sleeve. He should probably stop you, but he can't even bring himself to give the gesture a glance of his attention. "I ended up transferring out of the class, my peace was not worth the credit. I just took it online instead."

"If only father were that understanding. I would take every class online if I could."

"What, there isn't a single thing you enjoy about school? When I was your age I only ever showed up for extracurriculars, but they managed to at least make it a little worth it for me."

Damian wants to say no, "My art and art teacher isn't deplorable." But that would be a lie.

"What're they-"

The lock of your farthest window clicks, interrupting you. Damian slips a blade out of the pocket of his school uniform, but doesn't bother moving. A measley intruder won't stand a chance against him, especially because they would be interrupting his you time.

A foot slides in through the open window. Black slacks, he can tell by the hemlines they're expensive. The shoes are glossy, but slightly scuffed, also clearly expensive.

Damian glares, he knows exactly who this is. The grip of his blade gets tighter.

"Hey babe." Drake greets, pulling his satchel in the window before closing it. "You'll never believe the day I had at work-"

Damian and Drake lock eyes. He can feel his eyes turn into giddy crescents as Tim's face falls into disbelief. Yes, this is the exact feeling he's been waiting for. He could revel in that disgusted expression he has.

"What's he doing here?" Drake sneered.

"Don't be rude."

"Wha- I'm not being rude. I just- baby, sweetheart, why the fuck is my little brother in your apartment?"

For his part, Damian just snuggles closer to you, causing you to squeeze him tighter. If it's even possible, he looks even more smug than he did before. All according to plan.

"I invited him. He likes to hangout after school sometimes." You smile, it's genuine, as if you're completely oblivious to why this would distress Tim. They both know you well enough to know you're having just as much fun fucking with your boyfriend as Damian is.

"You know each other? You do this regularly??"

"No thanks to you. I've only met your family once and it was in passing, Tim! What was I supposed to do, tell him to leave? He's just a baby!"

Under normal circumstances, Damian would grow irate at being called a baby. He is ten years old, in double digits, basically an adult! However, annoying Drake takes precedence right now.

"Yeah Drake, I'm just a baby." Damian says flatly. "I'm just a baby, and you're scaring me."

You gasp. "Timothy you're scaring my baby!"

"That demon is NOT a baby! Are you under mind control? Blink twice if you need help."

Your hand tugs Damian into your chest, and you plant a kiss on his forehead. His demonic smile wavers for a moment as a flush hits his cheeks, that same icky syrup-like feeling you tend to give him curling in his chest. It comes right back when he sees that absolute offended and affronted look on Drake's face.

This is the best day of his life.

"If you don't start being nice to this sweet baby angel right this second, I'll have to throw you out of my apartment. Sorry Tim, those are the rules."

"You just made that up, those- that's- those aren't the rules!"

Damian pulls out of your hold to sit up straight on the couch, re-pulling out his switchblade. It glints off the yellowish lighting in your apartment, the same glint in his wolfish grin.

"Please." He stands. "It would be an honor if you would allow me."

You pretend to think about it, a matching mischievous look on your face. "Hmm okay, but only because you asked so nicely.

"I'm sorry Tim, but I don't make the rules, I just follow them."

"I'm not sorry." Damian brags.

"Shut it, brat."

Tim begins to climb back out the window, huffing as his satchel gets stuck on the sill for the second time. His head pokes back in before he closes it, a glare, that would be terrifying if Damian was anyone else, on his face.

"This isn't over."

"I disagree."

The window slams shut, and Damian slots himself right back where he was before. Both of you have the evilist of giggles as you basket on the high of teasing Tim Drake.

Despite his shitty day at school, it's a good day, anyway.

You only played along bc Tim's been ignoring you for the sake of work, leaving his stabby little brother here to satiate your boredom. This is petty revenge.

Damian also becomes the biggest cock block in the world after this. You think it's funny, Tim not so much.

Also planning on writing a short follow up to this where Tim comes to you after patrol and needs reassurance.

｡⁠☆Requests open

#this was supposed to be like 5 paragraphs max... and here we are..#˗ˏˋ ★ venus writes ★ ˎˊ˗#˗ˏˋ ★ batfam ★ ˎˊ˗#tim drake x fem!reader #tim drake x you #tim drake x male reader #tim x reader #tim drake x reader #tim drake x gn!reader #tim drake x y/n #gn reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #fem reader #male reader #wrote some angst yesterday so i balanced it out with some fluff

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allllium · 6 months ago

Text

Perfect for Me

~ Matt Murdock x insecure!reader

~ omg two posts in two days 😮 this is not edited at all so ignore my mistakes

~ Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, WC: 1,679

- Matt comforts insecure reader -

Dating a blind guy is very different from any other relationship you've had for very obvious reasons. Not only is it an adjustment going out with and even living with someone that can't see, but Matt is different. He has senses that other blind people don't which makes things even harder. You love Matt but that doesn't mean it's not an adjustment.

Obviously he can't see you but he knows everything about you. He knows the basics of how you look but not the details. Sometimes that's hard. Only because you fear he has some other idea of you in his head. Like the real you can't match up to the look of you he has in his head.

It's silly, you know, but it's not like you can just get rid of the thoughts in your head. Matt can tell something's wrong, a bonus of his super senses. So far though, he hasn't asked about it. He's learned over time to give you a little bit of time to process your issue before he tries to get involved.

It's not his fault, simply your insecurities getting the best of you. It'll be fine you tell yourself, wondering around the apartment you now share with Matt. Maybe that's where it's coming from. You guys have always spent a lot of time together but now your space is his, and when you want space to yourself, you don't have a separate apartment to hide in. You certainly don't want that but what if he does?

You turn on some music to fill your rattled brain. Nothing loud but enough to distract your thoughts. You soon turn from wondering to cleaning. It's become a daily habit since Matt rarely has time. You have no problem doing it because you know it makes Matt feel slightly better. Not as much dust and grime for his senses to focus on.

You're very ingrained in your scrubbing of the counter when you hear the door shut.

"Hey, Matty." You call out to greet him, not taking your attention off the counter for a second.

"Hi." His faces lights up as he sees you. "How was your day?" He asks, planting a soft kiss on your temple.

"Not nearly as eventful as yours I imagine." You smile, turning around to meet his beaming face. He has already taken off his suit jacket while walking towards you and has began loosening his tie. Giving him that slightly casual look that you know and love.

"I actually think that's true today, though the most amusing part of it was hearing Foggy fall out of his chair not once but twice within a twenty minute period." You listen intently to his words as you finish wiping off the counter. His words get quieter as he slowly makes his way to the bedroom for more comfortable clothes.

You know Matt feels a great pressure to keep the city safe by going out every night, but your favorite night of the week is the one where you've both agreed he stays in. One of the few requests you had when moving in.

"How the hell did he manage that?" You chortle, imagining it in your head. You can hear Matt's laugh from the other room.

"I have no clue, you'd think he'd learn after the first time." He comes back into the living space wearing black sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. After you got together, you had to take Matt shopping for new, plain, clothes considering most of the ones he owned had something stupid and possibly embarrassing on them due to Foggy, bright colors and big slogans. "I heard him whine about it for the rest of the day."

"At least your days aren't boring like the other lawyers."

"That's definitely a plus of partnering with him."

This is the best part of your day. Talking to him about your days and gossiping about the people you know, plus all the people Matt hears about during the day. The only problem seems to be the words that won't leave your head.

"How do you feel about spaghetti for dinner?" You ask him as he grabs a water out of the fridge. Usually, he'd grab a beer but out of fear for his liver you haven't bought any in a week.

"Sounds perfect. How can I help?"

"I can do it, you worked all day."

"Worked is a loose term." He laughs to himself. You and he both know a lot of their work consists of finding new cases.

"You can boil the pasta if you want to be helpful."

"Oh that's easy. It's almost as if you don't believe in my culinary skills."

You turn and give him a stare that makes him smirk. "Matthew, I know what you lived on before I moved in."

"Okay water it is." He gives you get another kiss before searching for a suitable pot.

You hum along to the soft background music as you and Matt work on your tasks. Once he's done with his, he stands right beside you in silence.

"So." He starts.

"So?" You repeat.

"I didn't want to bring this up but I think it's important-"

"That sounds scary."

"For me, yes. I talked to Karen today."

Oh fuck. To say Karen knows your deepest darkest secrets would be an understatement. For Matt to start a conversation like this about her, she told him something. Something you're know wracking your brain to figure out.

It's not that you think Karen would sell you out. But Matt is very charming and sometimes you find yourself telling him things without even realizing.

"I would hope so." You try to play it off like you're not immensely worried about his coming words. "She is your secretary."

"I don't think she'd appreciate that title." He laughs nervously. You know he's nervous because his glasses are still on. He's trying to make sure you can't read him at the moment.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't want it to seem like I was invading your privacy."

"Matt, you always do that. You hear literally everything I do."

"Yes but this feels different."

"You wouldn't have started this conversation if you didn't have something to say so please get on with it."

"I heard you talking to Karen the other day when she was over. And I tried not to read too much into it but then I talked to her today and I'm officially reading into it."

"Karen and I have talked about a lot of things, that doesn't really help me understand."

You try to seem nonchalant by stirring the pasta sauce.

"I heard you telling her how you don't think you live up the version of you I have in my head." He whispers the words as if that'll make it easier. Of course. Out of everything he could've heard, it was the one thing you really, really don't want to talk about. You know Matt isn't going to let this go until you answer all his questions.

"That was over a week ago." You whisper over the sauce.

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. But I only heard a part of what you said and I couldn't handle not knowing the rest."

A heavy sigh escapes you. It's not his fault. You are still adjusting to how much he can hear from so far so you didn't even think about that when he came home that day. You also can't fault him for wanting to know more, if the roles were reversed you would've gone to Foggy to know more almost immediately.

"You obviously weren't supposed to hear that." You turn off the stove top and look at him. "I don't suppose we can keep acting like you know nothing about that?" Your words come out with a hopeful tone.

"No we can't. Sweetheart, how can you feel like that? Have I made you doubt yourself like this?" He pulls you away from the kitchen and pushes you to sit next to him on the couch.

"You have done nothing Matt. You're perfect. I just can't get it out of my mind that every time you're complimenting me, it's not actually me. It's the more beautiful version of me you have in your head." He already knows enough, might as well tell him the rest.

"I know what you look like. Maybe I can't see every detail but I know enough to know every compliment I've ever given you, has been for you. I can't see everything on your face but I can sort of see the shape of you."

You're just now realizing you've never actually asked Matt what he can see. Knowing he was blind you always figured he couldn't see anything.

"What do you see?" You ask now.

"It's difficult to explain. I see certain figures but not all the time. It's kinda like flames that prevent me from seeing things but they don't always stay in the same spot."

"So how are you so confident I'm the same that you think I am?" He moves closer to hold your hand and lean more against you.

"Because I've had everyone describe you. Foggy, Karen, even Frank at one point. And I've felt your face a lot, enough to understand the shape of everything. Your eyes, lips, nose. Everything that makes you, you."

"Feeling is different than seeing."

"For other people yes. For me, this is the only way I know a lot of things. It's the way I've learned to know things so I'm better at it. I don't need to see every detail when everything I've felt is beyond perfect."

You feel tears appear in your waterline. Leave it to Matt to know the perfect thing to say. Always.

"When I say you're perfect for me, I mean it. More than anything."

He wipes the tears off your face the second they begin to fall.

"You're perfect for me too, Matty."

"Good." He states. "You're gonna be with for the rest of forever."

"That's a nice plan."

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himbosandhardwear · 1 year ago

Text

Steddie I Different First Meeting I NSFW I Public Indecency I 2.8k words

He's planted. Call him The White Tree of Gondor, he's so planted. Nothing and no one could move him from this spot.

He's going to have perfect line of sight to center stage, as long as no one over 6’3” stands in front of him. He's got his good boots on, giving him a solid three inch lift.

Some people come and go, not as dedicated to keeping their spot. Not Eddie. He's planted.

“You think he moved back?” Some chick yells behind him.

“Doubt it,” her companion yells back, “the point was to get closer.”

“Well I don't know if I can deal with closer. It's only going to get worse when the band goes on, and I'm at my limit for men touching me today.”

“I'm pretty sure there's beer in my hair.”

“A fate worse than death,” she mocks him, making Eddie chuckle. “You wanna bail? He can come find us after.”

“I don't know, Rob, he's just a kid. What if he gets scared?”

“Oh my god, he's sixteen.”

“He's short!” The guy yells shrilly, practically in Eddie's ear. “No way he can see over top everyone's head.”

“Okay, then you stay, dingus. I'm going to go pay $12 for a bottle of water. Come find me after.”

“Rob! C'mon, don't- Rob! Ah shit.”

Eddie almost turns to give the guy some reassurance but he can't, making friends in the crowd is how you end up getting pulled into another direction. He can't chance it. He's planted.

Not to mention his friend was right, the more time that passes, the more packed in they become. Once or twice the guy behind him gets jostled into Eddie's back, mumbling apologies each time. Eddie doesn't bother to reply.

He's determined to ignore the guy until suddenly they're pressed front to back, shoulder to calf, the guys massive hands wrapping solidly around Eddie's waist so they don't fall down, and he's fucked. Suddenly the guy behind him is all he's thinking about.

Of course this turn of events sends the poor guy into apology overdrive, hands ripped back immediately as he stutters his excuses.

Eddie waves it off, still not turning away from the front, but the urge is strong. He kind of needs to see if the guy is as hot as that ten second press against him would suggest. Christ on a bike, he even smells good. At least Eddie is pretty sure that's him, the pine/sugar/sweat combo.

A glance at his watch tells him they've got maybe another ten minutes until the show starts. Five minutes ago that would've been all he would've cared about but now he's got Hot Boy Brain Rot and can't focus.

Which is why the next time they get pushed together, Eddie does absolutely nothing to help correct, he lets the guy pull him back and very nearly fall flat on their asses. The only reason they don't is because they fall into the people pressing forward.

“I swear to god, I'm not doing this on purpose,” the guy says with a chuckle that warms Eddie’s already sweaty skin. He hasn't let go yet, his enormous hands hold Eddie upright, skin on skin where his shirt has been cropped.

He's lost his mind completely, because he puts his own hands on the ones circling his waist and squeeze, a soft acceptance of their predicament. It could mean nothing if the guy is straight - maybe, probably, he's not good at judging that sort of thing - but if the hot guy standing behind him is in any way interested, he'll understand.

And praise Dale, raise hell, he does! Long fingers tighten, slide, tighten, before letting go again. He's pretty sure the guy just stuck his thumbs into the indents at the top of his ass too.

Which is when he realizes there's a not zero percent chance the guy thinks Eddie is a girl.

He forgot he's wearing a kilt, which idiots seem to think is a skirt 70% of the time he has it on. Combining that with his hair being down and the fact that he hasn't turned around at all… Fuck.

You're 6’2” right now. Maybe that's enough of a hint. Or your hairy legs? No, it's way too dark to see that far down, no way he-

Eddie squeaks as the guy runs a finger tip along the edge of the kilt. Luckily, it's too loud for the sound to travel, that would've been devastating.

The guy leans forward and whisper/yells, “Is this okay?” into his ear.

Eddie nods, takes a miniscule step back, bringing himself closer. He's gonna take this as far as he can before they either get kicked out for indecent acts or the guy realizes what he's doing and bashes Eddie for ‘tricking him.’ The smart thing to do would be to fucking turn around and confirm his stupid gender but… it's nice feeling wanted for a moment. Nice enough for whatever the consequences are.

An arm snakes around his middle, a fucking nice arm, all sinewy and freckled and brown, causing a surge of giddiness. They're pressed together again, this time on purpose. The guy seems to instinctively know Eddie has this spot picked out because he doesn't let anyone push them or get between. He does, however, laugh every time they get jostled closer together. It's infectious too, makes him smile along every time he hears that giggle. If the guy doesn't stop being adorable soon, Eddie is gonna fall in love.

Whoops. Too late. There's an enormous cock pressed up against his ass; any semblance of control or ability to play it cool goes right out the window.

He's never been more proud of himself for taking up street hockey with Jeff and his cousins than this moment. Some asshole had said to him, years ago now, ‘No one wants a bottom with a flat ass,’ and Eddie let that settle into a deep seated neurosis that pushed him into sports. Casual sports, that actually turned out to be pretty fun, but still…

Anyway, he's got an ass worth pushing against now, which is doing fantastic things for the whole ‘accidently luring a stranger into simulating sex acts at a concert' thing he's got going on.

Good god are they playing with fire right now. Yeah everyone is distracted by the drum tech setting up but it's not like they're invisible here. The guy to Eddie's left is just as close as the one rubbing off against his ass, if he glances down he's gonna see what they're doing. That thought only brings Eddie closer to finishing, untouched, in his underwear. His own erection is being held down by his boxer briefs, which are always a good choice when wearing a kilt. Shit happens in the pit, he's never been keen on flashing his bare ass to everyone if he takes a header.

He's snaking a hand down, trying to be subtle, but he needs to squeeze his dick or he's going to start crying.

His new friend must catch the movement because his right hand follows the trajectory, sliding right along with Eddie’s, until they're both stalled out, cuping his hip instead of his erection. Eddie thinks about passing out, he's so turned on and terrified. Either the guy knows he's about to touch a human penis or he's about to get an unwelcome surprise.

Before Eddie's heart can explode and kill him, three things happen rapid fire:

The lights go completely dark, signifying the start of the show, which makes the already packed stadium lose its collective shit.

Then there's a call from behind, the dreaded, “Heads up!” Eddie only just manages not to burst into tears as his one true love has to let go to support the weight of the asshole crowd surfing above them. He makes sure to pinch the fucker as he takes the weight of his stupid leg as it goes by.

Then, immediately after, there's another crowd surge as the first lick of Blackened rings out around them. Adrenaline pumps through Eddie like a lava flow, two desires waring within him making it impossible to choose. Does he turn to find the man of his dreams or does he stay the course and watch the greatest metal show of all time?

Considering this is the third time he's seen Metallica live, he turns around.

He's gone. The only people behind him now are two chicks with their tits painted white and gold and a middle aged biker.

Awesome.

He keeps looking but no one near fits the right description, not even close. Why the fuck didn't he turn around and just look at the guy? At least then he'd know who to look for after the show.

It's not like his night is completely ruined or anything. He jumps in the closest pit and takes his disappointment on the poor bastards unlucky enough to crash into him, and he has a splendid time with that. It wasn't his original plan, he wanted to stay center stage and actually watch the show this time, but he's too keyed up to stand still now, better to shove his fellow man and get elbowed for his troubles.

By the time James is wailing out the final insane notes of Battery, Eddie is thoroughly beat. It's a slog getting to the back of the stadium but he's determined to beat the crowd to the pissers. The night was fun and all but he's ready to go. Ready to stick his hand down his pants(kilt), relive the oddest and hottest encounter he's ever experienced, and then forget it ever happened.

He's made it as far as the merch line when a familiar voice yells his name. He looks back and sure enough, Dustin Henderson is waving at him like a semaphore code operator. Goofy ass kid, Eddie loves him to death.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks after giving him a back slapping hug.

“Surprise early birthday gift, I didn't know until yesterday or I would've told you.” His whole body is thrumming with excitement. It must be his first metal show. You wouldn't know it to look at him, he's got a whole mini-Eddie thing happening, which is adorable.

“That's awesome, dude. You didn't want to stay till the end?”

“I already saw their setlist and calculated the timing just right to get in line before the crowd let out.” Of course he did. “What about you? Taking off?”

“Yeah, I've had…a weird night. Good but weird.”

“You wanna ditch in line? Looks like they still have plenty of T-shirts available.”

He laughs. “Nah, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home. I'll see you Saturday?”

“Totally, wouldn't miss it-”

“There you are! Jesus, Henderson, I thought I lost you. Your mom would kill me if something-”

The guy finally stops bitching but only because he's staring at Eddie like he's seen a ghost.

“Uhh,” Eddie drawls, confused.

“Steve! This is Eddie! You know, from Hellfire, at Tech.”

It would be appropriate for them to shake hands, he thinks, but the guy is just staring at him, going more and more red as the seconds pass. It's a good thing he's pretty because his social skills could use some work.

“Hey dingus, did the beer in your hair finally soak into your brain.” The woman standing to Steve's left knocks on his forehead with a knuckle, making him flinch.

“You guys okay?”

Eddie is too busy being strapped into a roller coaster of emotion to respond to Henderson’s quiry. It can't be this easy, fate has never been this kind or cruel to Eddie, not at the same time. His dream man can't be Dustin's babysitter/big brother Steve. That guy drives a BMW and listens to Supertramp, which he only knows because he followed Dustin out to the parking lot one night. Except, Steve is gorgeous and fun and a good dude who worries about his kids, and is smoking hot.

He knows Steve knows he knows now, his own face has gone beet red, and they're just staring at each other, like some kind of gorgon in a bathroom mirror situation.

“What is this? Why are you being weird?” Steve's girlfriend - Rob? - asks. “Wait, oh my god, is Dustin’s other dad, your imagined arch nemesis, the Guy in the Crowd? Holy shit, he totally is, what are the fucking odds!” She cackles.

Wait. He told her about that? And he knew I'm a guy? And he thought we were nemesis? That's so hot.

Dustin is going on about Steve's apparent low self esteem and how Steve needn't worry about his loyalty and how he loves them both equally, which is sweet, but he and Steve are still just staring at each other.

“I know a good diner around here,” he blurts out when Dustin finally shuts up. “They have all you can eat pancakes.”

Steve's eyes do something devastating, adjacent to cows touching grass for the first time. “I like pancakes.”

“Let's get pancakes.”

“Okay.”

They start walking away, dazed, until Dustin reminds them of his presence, loudly and with much insult. “Steve! You drove us here!”

“Shit.” He turns back. “Right. Sorry. C'mon, we're getting pancakes.”

Dustin looks to Rob, as if to say, ‘What the fuck is going on?’ She replies back with a sort of ‘I don't get paid enough to explain this to children’ and ‘I know, he's hopeless but we love him’ both kinda look.

“What?” Steve asks.

“I'm still in line, dude. I want a T-shirt.”

“But-”

“No buts!” Dustin screeches. “Pancakes can wait!”

Eddie wishes they would figure it out soon, he still has to piss.

Rob, bless her, she's Eddie's new best friend, takes Dustin under her arm and asks Eddie, “Where's the diner?”

“25th and Dudley Ave. Called Roxy's.”

“Got it. Go on, I'll bring your son after he's got his stupid shirt.”

Dustin is the epitome of disbelief. “What! No! Guys, don't leave me with Robin!” He yells, to which Robin responds by putting him in a headlock.

“Go! Run before he figures out what's going on.”

Steve doesn't need to be told twice, apparently, he grabs Eddie's wrist and yanks him toward the exit doors. It’s exciting, running away with Steve, even though they’re only running from Dustin. Still, it leaves them both breathless by the time they get to the end of the block, both laughing about how ridiculous it all is.

“God. Haven't run like that since…well the last time the cops were after me.”

Steve just grins, hands on his knees, looking like a former athlete, all deep breaths and physical therapy style stretching. Fucking hot jocks, ugh.

Eddie wants to mount him.

Which brings them up to the awkward part: acknowledging what happened.

Steve braves it first. “Hey, I, uh, I don't want you to think I go around doing shit like that.”

Eddie, ever the opportunistic asshole, says, “Shit like what?” When Steve's face falls to horror, perfectly timed, and Eddie loses it. “I'm kidding, sorry, I'm just fucking with you. It was definitely me.”

“Dick,” Steve says but he's laughing.

“Yeah, that's me.” They sort of instinctively move away from the street, closer to the less busy side storefronts. “In the interest of honesty, I should tell you, I wasn't entirely sure you knew I wasn't a girl, that's why I sort of hesitated right there at the end, before we got separated.”

Steve looks baffled. “Huh?”

“You know.” He waves at himself. “From the back I could be a tall chick. Cause of the kilt and the hair and everything.”

He shakes his head. “Dude, I saw you from like four rows back. Why do you think I stopped where I did?”

Fuck. Okay. That's…awesome. He jams a whole fistful of hair against his face.

“Also, even if you had turned out to be a tall chick, not a deal breaker. You're fucking hot either way.”

“Okay, Romeo, cool it with the compliments before I make you finish what you started right here.”

Jesus tap-dancing Christ, that smirk should be illegal.

“Right here against the jewelry shop window? I'm not opposed.” Eddie very seriously considers the pros and cons of that but before he finishes, Steve laughs. “Better not. I was promised pancakes. And Lord have mercy if Rob and Henderson get there before we do.”

He's right. God dammit.

“Fine but for the record, which I feel goes without saying, I do put out on the first date.”

Steve laughs. “Never would've guessed.”

By the time they get to Roxy's, Steve has his arm around Eddie's waist, pinkie tucked deep into his kilt.

#dustin: this steve hes my babysitter and he DROVE ME HERE #steddie #meet cute?#anonymous grinding #ficlet #my writing

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yuukskillsworld · 2 months ago

Note

I was wondering if u could do headcanons of what summer would be like with all the killer chat love interests with a reader that HATESSS summer bc of the heat and all the bugs and if you don't wanna do all the li just ronin is fine!

“Hot, Bothered, and Yours: Summer" - Killer Chat LIs X Reader Headcanons

Hey, sweetheart—thanks for the fun request!

If summer’s your sworn enemy (ugh, the heat? the bugs? the sweat??), just know these killer love interests have their own... steamy ways of dealing with it.

Let’s get into it, yeah?

written by yuukskillsworld<3

WARNINGS: Mild swearing, flirting and suggestive language, heat-induced irritation

(No serious triggers—just vibes and summer suffering.)

Ronin Beaufort

Ronin finds your summer misery hilarious.

♡ The second he sees you flopped on the couch in a tank top and an ice pack down your shirt, he smirks: “Aww, what’s wrong, darlin’? Can’t handle a little sunshine?”

♡ He refuses to turn on the AC unless you threaten violence. “Heat builds character. Or were you always this dramatic?” (He’s already turning the AC on behind your back. He just likes watching you flail.)

♡ When the bugs get bad, he pulls out an old-school fly swatter like it’s a weapon and declares war. He’s unnecessarily aggressive about it. “This one’s for you, baby,” he says, smacking the air dramatically.

♡ If you’re grumpy, he gets handsy. Not necessarily helpful, but distracting. “C’mon, sweat looks good on you. And I’ve got a few ways to make you forget the heat…”

Maria de la Rosa(Angel)

Angel actually loves summer—but she loves you more.

♡ She notices how miserable you are and immediately adapts her plans. No more long hikes. No open fields. Just shaded walks, indoor picnics, and cool drinks.

♡ She gets you one of those handheld fans—and decorates it with your favorite colors or stickers. “Gotta keep my baby cool and cute.”

♡ If bugs come near you? She’s ready with the spray. “Not today, Satan,” she mutters, shielding you like a bug-slaying guardian angel.

♡ She brings you popsicles. She wears flowy clothes. She sets up soft pillows in the coolest part of the house so you two can nap together. “See? Summer’s not so bad when you’re wrapped up in me.”

Misaki Katsuo

Misaki doesn’t love the heat either, but they’ll never admit it. Their whole vibe is “adapt and cause problems.”

♡ They turn summer into a game. Every bug you swat earns you a point. Every time you complain, they tickle you.

♡ “You hate summer?” they grin, already dragging you outside with a squirt gun. “Then it’s war, babe.”

♡ They set up a kiddie pool and force you to sit in it with them like a pair of gremlins. “We suffer together. It’s romantic.”

♡ And when you finally snap and say, “I’m going to melt,” they grin and pour an entire pitcher of cold water on your head. “Better?” (They’re soaked right after, don’t worry.)

Valentin Viljoen(V)

V hates inefficient suffering, so he becomes your personal anti-summer strategist.

♡ Blackout curtains. High-end AC unit. Bug-repelling plants and scents. He has it all set up like a military operation.

♡ You wake up one morning to find the thermostat pre-programmed, your clothes chilled in the fridge, and the patio sealed from insects.

♡ When you say, “Ugh, I hate this season,” he just hands you a glass of cucumber water and kisses your forehead. “Then we make it tolerable. Together.”

♡ He’s surprisingly clingy when you’re hot and annoyed. Always brushing damp hair off your face or sitting close without touching unless you let him.

♡ And if you’re hiding in a dark room mid-heatwave? He joins you silently and reads aloud until you calm down.

Thanks again for the request, sunshine (yes, I said it).

Whether you're melting, swatting bugs, or just trying to survive the season—these killers have your back. And if not... well, they’ll at least keep you distracted. Hope you had fun reading, sweetie! <3

Credits:

-> dividers: @dollywons

-> photo: Pinterest

#ronin x reader #ronin beaufort #killerchat #ronin #killer chat x reader #ronin beaufort x reader #killer chat ronin beaufort #ronin killer chat #killer chat ronin #kc ronin x reader #angel #killer chat angel #killer chat #killer chat misaki #misaki #misaki katsuo #v #v killer chat

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divinedelusional · 3 months ago

Text

feels so good to be needed

nate archibald x fem reader

a/n: first smut for natie! hope you like it guys, requested by my fave lulu xoxo

warnings: smut, mdni!!! 18+, oral (m receiving), female masturbation, praise kink, slightly sub Nate (he's just our needy boo) and dom reader

You and Nate were in a bind. Golden couple of Upper East Side's most prestigious high schools couldn't reach an agreement. The thing was that Nate got sick and for the first day he wouldn't let you stay in his room for more than 10 minutes, panicked that you'd catch something.

"Nate, cold is not some deadly sickness, you know that?" you chuckled. You were sitting on his desk, watching him from a distance he required from you.

"Of course I know, but do you want to look like I do on our trip to France?" Nate gestured to his bed, where layed a bunch of used tissues, new box of them opened, thermometr and empty packet of aspirin he just dissolved in water and was about to drink.

He had a point, but still you hated to see your boyfriend like this and not being able to help.

You sighed and picked up your purse.

"You're lucky that we don't live together yet, and that school is for two more days. Otherwise you wouldn't get rid of me today that easily".

Nate rolled his eyes.

"I love you" he said.

"False, you'd let me kiss you if you loved me" you stuck your tounge at him.

"No, y/n not today" he said and as universe took his side, it hit him with a fit of coughing.

"Okay, okay" you gave up. "But I'll see you tomorrow. Drink your aspirin and go to sleep" you pointed your finger at him.

"Yes, mom" he said to which you rolled you eyes this time.

Luckily Nate was getting better. Next day he slept half the day and you brought him chicken noodle soup for late lunch. Even though the fever was wearing off he still wouldn't let you close to him. You left him essential oils to put in diffuser or to steam in the shower.

"Lavender is not first choice for stuffy nose, but it will help you sleep for sure" you told him when he jumped to bed after taking a shower. He almost immediately closed his eyes, sinking into the plushy pillows. You dripped the sheets around the pillows with lavender oil and stood next to the bed watching your boyfriend. He mumbled a thank you and in his tired state he didn't even protest when you kissed his forehead. He fell asleep almost right after, a smile appeared on his face after feeling your lips on his skin.

Next day he woke up, feeling so much better cold wise. His nose wasn't stuffed anymore and he wasn't shivering when he untagled himself from warm duvet. Smell of essential oil was lingering in his bedroom so was your kiss that you planted on his forehead last night.

Nate was really missing you. You and your touch mostly. He saw you yesterday, but he didn't kiss you for 3 days. And always when the worst symptoms disappeared he started to get needy. He was aware that he was the one who told you not to kiss him or get to close, but that was for your own good. Now it was almost noon and he still felt good, at least his state didn't get worse. No fever, no stuffy nose, nothing. Just a little headache and ache and longing for you.

It really was his lucky day, because you just texted him that you're gonna come visit him earlier, due to canceled biology class. Biggest grin appeared on his face as he was texting you back. He ran down to the kitchen asking the help to pick up some fresh fruits to have as snacks and then went back upstairs, to change the bedsheets and take out fresh blankets. He hoped that you wouldn't tease him about not letting you close to him and you would cuddle with him while watching a movie or something. After half an hour he decided that everything looks decent, bed was made as comfortable as it could get, trays with fresh fruits and croissaints were put on his desk. Suddenly his headache reminded of itself and he decided to lay down. He must have dozed off and heard a quiet knock on a door, which was enough to wake him up.

"Come in!" he called, voice slightly hoarse.

Door opened and he saw your smiling face.

"Hi bubba, how are you feeling?" you asked, coming up to his side, putting a hand on his forehead to check temperature.

"Better, much better in fact" he said, lifting his head up and putting a chaste kiss to your wrist.

"Oh I see you've changed your mind about staying apart, hm?" you teased, caressing his cheek with your knuckles.

"You know that I can't stay apart from you too long" he whispered leaning into your touch.

"Good, because neither can I" you said and sat beside him, putting your bag on the floor. You were quick to close the distance between you and Nate. You kissed hesitantly at first and then he slid his tounge into your mouth, exploring it in very slow pace, but you liked it that way. He put one hand on your waist, pulling you closer. Your kiss begin to get desperate and when you pulled away for air, Nate whined into your mouth, chasing it. He kissed you again and the neediness that was lingering before, was now fully expressed. He panted when you pulled away.

"You missed us, huh?" you grinned.

"Oh you have no idea" Nate rasped. "You know how I get after...oh shit" you straddled his legs and began to kiss down his throat. "I couldn't wait for you to come over today, I need you so bad" he lifted his hips, to get closer. You were moving you hips back and forth now on his lap and the bulge was starting to form in his boxers. You were needy for him too. You waited patiently for him to get better, as you knew he was going to be like this. And you knew perfectly what to do to make him feel better.

"My poor baby, that cold was a torture for you, you're so needy"

"Yes, I am, oh so bad"

"Yes, yes I know, but I don't want you to lift a finger okay, Natie? I know exactly what you need, I'm gonna take such good care of you baby" you said hopping of his lap. "You just relax and let me to everything okay? Can you do that for me, Natie?" you cooed.

Nate nooded, as you leaned down to undress his bottom half. He kicked of his sweats of his ankles, moaning when you palmed his bulge through his boxers. You looked at his face as you massaged his cloathed balls. That always added an extra kick to his pleasure.

"Oh, oh y/n, please..."

"Please what honey? What dou you need? Do we have the same thing in mind?" you asked when you were taking his boxers off.

"I'-I think so" he panted "You're gonna suck me off"

"That's right, make space for me"

You laid down between his legs, you rested your head on his thigh while you were still playing with his balls.

"Baby please, I need this, put me in your mouth, please"

"You know I can never say no to you" you smiled at him and moved your face to his dick, you mouth inches away from it.

"Hi" you whispered softly "Such a pretty thing" you felt an ache in your pussy and your mouth filled with saliva. You opened it, taking your boyfriend's dick into your mouth. You took him fully in just one go. You stayed like that for a second, enjoying a feeling of having your mouth full with his cock. You hollowed your cheeks and began bobbing your head up and down in slow movements.

Nate had his head pressed into the pillows as he felt the hotness of your velvety walls around him. Fuck, he loved it so much. He was weak for you always, but even weaker today. He already was thinking how to last longer not to make this end so quickly. Sighes and small moans were leaving his mouth as you continued with your slow pace. He thought he was going to want you go faster, but he enjoyed this tempo and was feeling like he was in heaven. Pleasure was building in him slowly, but oh so amazingly. Very carefully you started to go faster, twisting your head slightly from left to right. Somehow you managed to take even more of him into your mouth and he began to pant, his breath quickend.

"What are you fucking doing to me, baby, shit" he opened his eyes and lifted his head off the pillows a little bit and did all in his power not to cum in the spot. The sight of you, taking him fully with your eyes closed, pleasure written all over your face, you were enjoying this as much as he did. You didn't know that he was watching you and while your left hand was playing with his balls your right went to your clit. Nate couldn't take this. He fell on the pillows and burried both of his hands in your hair, making a make shift ponytail with one.

"You're doing so fucking great for me y/n, no one fucks me like you do, baby"

You moaned around him, vibrations only adding to extreme delight he was experiencing under your touch.

"Fuck me faster, make us both cum, oh shit yes, just like that"

You were now moving the fastest you could, his dick hitting the back of your throat. His moans increased in volume, becoming whines. He always sounded so pretty, his moans always turning you on more. You were drawing tight circles on your clit, matching it with a speed you were fucking Nate with.

"Yesss, just like that, don't stop, don't fucking stop" he chanted. His abs flexed and cock twitched. He was almost there, so were you. You sucked with extra pressure, your throat tight around him.

"Baby, I'm not gonna last, oh my god, I'm fucking coming, yesss" with a loud groan he came, your mouth filled with his hot cum. The coil in your belly snaped as you where sucking him dry, fucking him through his orgasm.

Nate was panting heavily, staring onto the celling.

"Soo, how do you feel now?" you asked with a grin and he only smiled.

"You know how"

You chuckled.

"I don't fucking know how you do that, but holy shit"

"I just love you and your dick, baby" you responed with a tone like you'd state that the sky is blue and grass green. Nate laughed and twirled the strand of your hair.

"Thank you"

"Anything for my baby" you said and started kissing his abs. Then you climed up and laid your head down on his chest. You were laying in a comfortable silence under a thin sheet.

"Hey what's in that bag you brought?"

"Oh it's our favourite wraps, you know that place in Village"

"That's great, I got us fresh fruits, thought you'd like that"

"Yes honey, we need our vitamins, especially you, we can make fruit salads after we have wraps"

Nate kissed you and you stayed like that, kissing in a warm embrace. You climed on top of your boyfriend once again.

"It's great we have all this food, you know, we'll be hungry after" you said grabbing his semi hard cock in your hand.

Your boyfriend smirked. "Yeah, hungry after what?"

"My favourite dessert" you smiled innocently "You know I like to have it before lunch"

"Hit the jackpot with you" Nate said when you made your way down. You gave couple licks to his tip and then you were spreading cum all over his dick with your thumb.

"Mhm" you nodded, not lifting your face up. "So did I"

reblogs are highly appreciated so is feedback!🩶

tagging people: @lanawinterscigarettes @luluartpop @rafessweet @ursogorgeous13

#nate archibald x reader #nate archibald fanfiction #nate archibald x you #nate archibald #nate archibald fanfic #nate archibald smut #nate archibald imagine #nate archibald fluff #gossip girl #gossip girl fanfiction #gossip girl imagine #alana writes #new writer boost #new writers on tumblr

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ram-bles · 6 months ago

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Happy Holidays!

With love,

The Tulpar crew.

#: gender neutral reader. romantic. pre-crash. fluff. kisses.

The holidays were near. The main area had garlands made of green plastic and tinsels sparsely hung around, a small water-activated paper Christmas tree growing in the middle of the dining table, and a bright red Christmas hat on Polle's ear. It wasn't much, but at least festive enough to feel some semblance of home. Though, one day, an additional piece of decor had been added by the entrance of the lounge.

[ Anya ]

You two were on break, folding and snipping away. The medical bay was filled with both your chattering, accompanied by gasps, giggling, and more as you both gossiped about stuff back on Earth— occasionally, some rumors about your co-workers too. Before you know it, you two were unfurling the last pieces of paper snowflakes.

"You think this is enough?"

"Yeah!"

With exchanged grins, both of you gathered the newly made decor and made your short trip towards the lounge, continuing the chat from beforehand. When the door slides open, you were both silenced by Daisuke pointing above your heads. In sync, you and Anya's eyes trailed from the intern, to the Captain beside him that gave you both a wave, then to the mistletoe, then to each other with a matching tint of red on both your cheeks.

Anya's hand covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers, and yours held your own cheek. It was silent for a quick moment which scared the other two, but you both started a giggling fit.

"You don't hafta do it if you don't want to!"

"Nono, it's okay. I promise. C'mere." Anya reassures you immediately.

You lean in and so does she, planting a kiss on both sides of your cheek and then a peck on the lip.

[ Curly ]

After convincing your Captain, he agrees to discreetly make a cake for a small holiday dinner. With a not-so discreet 'Yes!' from you, he chuckles and shakes his head. Whatever makes you happy.

But that means you have to help, which isn't much of a problem to you anyways. It's just shoving packets into a machine that automatically makes it, so it's not that big of a chore. Or maybe he just needed an excuse to spend time doing something together with you.

"Alright, doll. Let's go make your cake."

Beaming, you followed just beside him. He finds it endearing how quickly it is to please you.

The door opens and something taps his forehead, making him stop, and you as well, following his gaze.

"Cheeky." He exhales from his nose as he smiles. "You put this here?"

"No, but are you giving me a kiss?"

He looks around, body leaning back to check at the hallway again before he returns to you. His fingers gently held your chin, tilting your head up and closing in. Curly presses his lips against yours, once, twice, and a last one for good measure. The man couldn't wipe the grin off of his face afterwards even if he tried to.

[ Daisuke ]

GRUMBLE.

From where you were comfortably resting and spectating his gameplay, his stomach roars at you, the sound twice as loud with your ear pressed against it.

"Wanna eat?" Your hair scrunches at your temple as you faced him.

"Mm. Almost done." The sounds of hard plastic tapping grew louder and faster as he speedran through the level. A soft mechanical tune plays as he finishes it and he throws his tiny console to the side of his pillow. Grunting, he sits up as your head rolls onto his lap. Daisuke scoops his hand behind your head to help you sit up as well, both of you stretching and leaving the bed. It was the end of the day after all, you both couldn't help but be lazy with how tiring the shift was today.

Upon successful collection and opening of canned foods, you sat on the counter to watch your partner in crime punch some numbers into the machine that popped out sweetener packets. It's impressive to you, managing to convince the captain for some of it so he could find out what the code was and memorize it.

"Got it!" He raises the two pink packets with a grin and tilting his head towards the door. "Let's go?"

With a nod, you hop off the surface and made your way back to your shared sleeping quarters when you noticed an object at the top of your peripheral. You stop on your tracks, nudging his side and nodded your head since your hands were full, gesturing at the mistletoe and pointing with your mouth.

"Pucker up, babe." He grins, energy suddenly coming back to him.

"You can just kiss me whenever you wanted to. You didn't have to sneak that in."

"Didn't put it up there, chief."

"Then who?"

With a shrug, he winks at you. "Dunno. Beats me!"

[ Jimmy ]

His mood was sour the whole day and he always beats around the bush when you try to ask about it. So, you resort to the other option-- giving him space. Oh, but that only made his mood worse. He's thinking you were ignoring him now.

It's been frustrating, you didn't know what to do about it either, so you decided to ask Curly for some advice. But that still makes everything worse! Jimmy saw you talking to Curly too and it made him even more irrationally upset, somehow resorting to a conclusion that now you don't want him, so you're going for Curly.

Jimmy then devised a plan. Making sure to chat with you and Curly in order to keep you both by the dining table, long enough so that the other three would head back to their designated quarters and unfortunately for him, he needed to be a chatterbox like you guys.

But hey, it worked, right?

That's when he suddenly had to excuse himself and asked you for some help. Agreeing, you both went on your way to exit the lounge when his arms hook around your waist, planting a kiss on your lips and you let out a surprised noise. Jimmy made sure Curly was looking too.

"Jimmy, not here!"

"Hey, I'm just following tradition." He points up at the mistletoe above your head with a smug grin.

[ Swansea ]

Another sigh escapes your lips and you hear Swansea put down a screwdriver.

"Alright, what's botherin' ya this time?"

You shift from Swansea's chair, twirling it slightly as you readjust your position so that you could rest your head on your palm. "Don't you miss celebrating the holidays?"

He seems unamused but you notice his demeanor change ever so slightly. With a huff he responds. "You get used to it up here." He takes another tool and continued tinkering.

Swansea could see you deflate from his peripheral vision. There was a moment of silence when he spoke up, not looking away from his work. "There's a box beside the birthday shit. If you could fix it before I finish here then I'll help you put it up. Deal?"

Beaming, you hopped out of the chair, rushed over to him and gave him a peck on the cheek before heading out.

"Thanks, Swans."

Fortunately for you, it wasn't a hard fix anyways. One of the wires connected to the battery holder was snapped off and all it needed was a little soldering.

Safe to say you did finish before him.

Excitedly, you helped him clean up and you both headed for the lounge. This was nice, you'd proudly say it if you had to and Swansea felt the same albeit never admitting it. Idly chatting about stuff back home as you hung up the lights. Swansea seemed to be having fun talking about his kids as well, going on about their holiday shenanigans whenever he got the luxury to come back home during these seasons. Surprisingly, the lights were long enough to decorate the wall behind Polle, even blending nicely into the garlands.

"Let's call everyone to eat now?"

"Alright."

You were walking towards the door when you notice it, grabbing Swansea's wrist as he turns back. Before he scolds you, you point up at the mistletoe above the both of you.

"I'm too old for this shit."

"C'mon, Swans! Just this once, please!"

You hear another defeated sigh from him when he suddenly holds you and dips you as you kissed. When you both finish, he raises your hands, twirling you and landing another kiss onto your knuckles that got you speechless.

"Hah. Still got it."

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago

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Daisychains II

Marta Torrejón x Caroline Graham Hansen x Child!Reader

Summary: It's gardening day

Caro had never really noticed the amount of plants at Marta's house. Well, she knew there were a lot but she had never really noticed just how many there were until she started visiting more regularly.

Usually, Marta would come to hers for dates but with you warming up to her, Caro came to Marta's every week.

She shifts the bouquet to her other hand as she rings the doorbell. There's a shuffle inside for a moment before she notices you peeking out through the curtains and disappearing again.

Marta opens the door and you peer out from behind her legs.

"Hi, Caro," You say, your voice soft and gentle.

You're wearing a pair of overalls and your welly boots. You seem quite overdressed for what is a very hot day in Barcelona but Caro doesn't question it as she hands you the flowers she picked out especially for you.

She brings you flowers every time she visits now and you're always happy to receive them. You do a very impressive job of keeping them all alive for weeks at a time and, honestly, Caro's a bit in awe of how you do it.

"She was very excited to see you today," Marta says as she watches you put the flowers in a vase you'd already prepared.

"Really?"

"Of course, I think you're her favourite person now."

The tips of Caro's ears turn pink as she bashfully looks down. She feels shy all of a sudden. The feeling only deepens as she feels a small hand take hers and looks to the side to see you smiling at her.

You look a little shy too, your hand dwarfed in Caro's.

"Mami," You say to Marta," Can I show Caro my garden?"

Marta laughs, pushing some strands of hair out of your face. "Well, it is gardening day, isn't it? Why don't you show Caro all your plants and I'll fill up your watering can?"

"My frog one?"

"Yes, your frog one."

"Okay." You tug lightly on Caro's hand and guide her out of the back door.

Caro's never been in the garden before but she's not surprised that it's very clearly yours. You've got plant boxes against the fences and a little swing she knows is the same one that Marta sat in to announce your arrival on social media.

It's got little cushions and looks meticulously cared for even though you're now six and it's been there for at least a few years before you were born.

You've got flowers against one of the fences and you pull Caro over to them.

"These are my flowers," You say.

The long box is separated into smaller boxes, each with their own flower in them.

"These are my roses," You say," And these are my tulips. This one's for my orchards. They're still little though so they're still growing."

"They look very nice."

"Mami is helping me," You say, pulling her across the garden to your other plant box," This is for my vegetables. We're growing broccoli and peas because they're healthy!"

It's the most talkative Caro's ever seen you.

You show her every inch of the garden and Caro doesn't even care that the sun is horrifically hot and she could quite possibly get sunburn.

Marta comes out soon after with a frog watering can and helps you water all your plants.

"It's gardening day," Marta explains as she and Caro retreat to the garden swing while you pad around with much smaller plant pots," Every Saturday when we don't have a match."

"She's good," Caro says.

"My parents got her a gardening set when she was three. She's been hooked for years now. All of her books are about plants. She doesn't like storybooks anymore. Just ones about gardening."

Caro sips on her lemonade as she watches you pour soil into an empty pot, watering it liberally before scattering a few seeds in and covering them. You set the pot on the garden table, right in the sun before hurrying off to grab a different pot.

"Clearly they've paid off. I think you might run out of space soon."

Marta groans jokingly. "She asked me for allotment space for her next birthday. What six year old knows that word? Allotment."

Caro joins in with her laughter, setting her drink down as Marta calls for you.

"Conejita! Come have a snack please!"

You huff a little bit, patting the petals of the flower you were pruning before hurrying over.

Marta had brought out carrot sticks earlier and you easily wiggle your way between her and Caro to eat them.

"Conejita grew these all by herself," Marta says as you munch," Didn't you?"

"Mami helped," You say to Caro, nodding earnestly," Do you like them?"

Honestly, Caro doesn't really like carrots at all but she still takes the one you offer her. She nods. "I really like them."

You beam.

"It was mine and Mami's special project," You explain," We had a lot of fun!"

Marta laughs, pulling you into her lap and sticking a floppy straw hat on your head to protect you from the sun. She bounces her knee a few times and you giggle.

"We did have a lot of fun, Conejita. I love growing things with my girl."

"I love growing things with you too, Mami!" You lean into her as you eat your carrot snacks. You suddenly have a thought and sit upright again. "Can I have a special project with you too, Caro?"

"I..." Caro's ears turn red again. "I'd like that."

"Mami, did you hear? I can grow something with Caro!"

"I did hear. It'll have to be next week though so you can have time to decide what you want to grow."

You wiggle around until Marta sets you on your feet and you grab Caro's hand, pulling her inside.

"We can grow flowers!" You decide," I have a book so we can choose! Come on, come on, Caro!"

Caro allowed herself to be led back inside and sat down on the sofa. There are flowers from last week set out on the coffee table and you drag over a big flower encyclopaedia from the shelf.

It looks very heavy but you stubbornly refuse to let Marta help you carry it. She smiles fondly at you as you place it in Caro's lap and begin to look through the pages.

"Conejita," She says as you and Caro debate what flower you're going to grow together," Should I put these away?" She's holding last week's flowers and you quickly shake your head.

"No! Wait, please, Mami!" You take them from her and glance at Caro. "I know they're not daisies," You say," But can you teach me how to make a flower crown with these too?"

You're very lucky because most of Caro's free time has now been taken up learning how to braid flowers together for exactly this moment.

She places the book to the side and hefts you up onto her lap.

"I'd love to."

#woso x reader #marta torrejon x reader #marta torrejon #caroline graham hansen x reader #caroline graham hansen #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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thesilmarillionblog · 1 year ago

Text

IN BAD DREAMS

Summary: After having a bad dream, Soldier Boy finds peace in your arms.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: fluff, comfort, soft Soldier Boy, established relationship, sweetness

Word Count: 1260

A/N: English is not my first language.

This one-shot story is inspired by the song 'In Bad Dreams' by Crippled Black Phoenix

⪩ Thank you for 300 followers! This one is for you. I hope you like it. 𓆩♡𓆪

Lost in thought, you sipped the water from your glass, got up from the chair, and headed to Ben's room. Everyone had gone to sleep by midnight, with the exception of you.

Ben and you had not spoken much since this morning, after he found out he had a son who was Homelander. Ben warned you about it and didn't want to discuss it with the rest of the crew. He had been acting more aggressively than usual, so you didn't want to press him to speak. You also didn't want to do anything that might damage your recently formed friendship because you were aware of how fragile his trust issues were.

Cautiously, you sneaked into his room, trying not to make any sort of noise. Although he was sleeping noisily, he didn't appear peaceful at all; instead, he appeared uneasy, as if he were having a nightmare.

You just mumbled, “Ben?” because he had told you not to touch him while he was sleeping so that he wouldn't grab your arm violently and accidentally hurt you.

He opened his eyes instantly and looked around, confused. Then your eyes met his emerald ones. He breathed deeply, as though he were relieved, and then extended his wide arms and rubbed his face.

“What time is it?” he said in a hoarse voice, trying to figure out if it was morning or evening by peering out the window.

“It's almost morning,” you remarked as you sat on the bed and ran your fingertips over his rough hands.

His eyebrows furrowed as he inquired, “Why aren't you asleep yet?”

You held his hand firmly and muttered, “I don't know; I just couldn't sleep. You looked quite uneasy when you were asleep. I’m worried about you, Ben.”

At least try to get him to talk about his dreams because you didn't bring up the Homelander issue and get him to push you away. It was incredibly difficult for him to open up to you. Being a man with PTSD, you knew you had to be patient with him, but you also wanted him to trust you as much as you trusted him.

He hesitated and said, “Yeah,” as if speaking was difficult. “Just a bad dream.”

With a sympathetic tone, you said, “Again?” and cautiously settled upon the bed. He swiftly proceeded to around you with his powerful arms and planted

solid kiss on your lips before kissing you firmly on your forehead. “What was it about?”

“You.”

“Why do you always see me in bad dreams?” You whispered to him, running your hand over his full beard, and leaned in to feel the warmth of his chest.

With a smile, he said, “I'm not sure. It has become somewhat of a habit these days.”

Assuming he would talk about it this time, you inquired, “What are they about, though?”

His hands came down to rest on your stomach, and his fingers lightly caressed your skin. You also felt he wouldn't want to talk about it, so you kept silent as you measured his expression.

Finally, he stated, “I would never let anything happen to you,” as though he didn't know how to fully open up to you and you understood.

You told him, “I know you won't,” hoping he would realize how much you trusted him and that you also wanted him to have faith in you. “No matter what, nothing that happens will ever be your fault, and I will never hold you responsible for anything. Ben, I need you to fully understand this.”

“Nothing will happen,” Ben said with a rough voice, ignoring what you've just

You nodded to him and sighed. Not sure how to start the conversation, you asked him politely, “How are you feeling about today? About him?”

You weren't sure if Ben's emotions or ideas about Homelander had changed in light of today's news, even if he was a horrible person—the worst person alive; in fact, he was still Ben's son. In the end, Homelander turned out to be Ben's son. There was no need to be in denial.

He cut it short, obviously not interested in talking. “I don't know,” he said. “But that changes nothing. That's just not how I pictured myself several decades ago. There were a ton of various possibilities.”

With a heavy heart, you asked, “With Countess?” Even though he killed her, you knew he loved her. Back then, he must have envisioned a life with her and a family. You hated her since she was the cause of his current trust issues.

“You know I don't like talking about such stuff, especially her, right?” He was dissatisfied with your question. Even though he didn't mean to, it still made you upset.

You said, “Fine,” losing interest and wanting to stop asking questions.

You made an attempt to break free and gain some distance, but he simply stopped you with an irritated sigh, trapping your body between his strong arms. "Stop moving," he said playfully. “Why did you get sensitive now?” he inquired.

“I didn't.”

“You sure didn't,” he said, teasing you more and making you laugh with quick tickles to the stomach.

Upon witnessing your afterwards silence, he took a deep breath, uncertain about where to begin. He never felt completely at ease opening up to you, even though you were the easiest person with whom to have a real, sincere talk.

“It's true that decades ago, I had dreams of starting a family with her, but as you have seen, I ended up killing her because she was a cunning, dishonest bitch. I'm not even sure if I really liked her.” At last, he said, “Maybe I just wanted to do what was required of me. Now that it's all over, you can stop feeling jealous.”

With a clearly deceptive smile, you said, “I'm not jealous.” Your pulse was racing, so you knew he could understand. But his words brought you relief. That was the first time he had told you honestly about how he felt about her.

You wanted him to want for the same visions with you and to trust you with his life because you knew you would never betray him, but you were unsure of how to show him how much you loved him. If you told him, you were worried he would push you away. That's the reason you haven't brought up the Countess issue until now. It would be best if he just moved on from the past and forgot about it. Whatever had broken inside of him—Countess, his father, Vought, and Payback—you wanted to fix.

You proceeded to brush his bare chest with your hands, whispering, “I just need you to know you can trust me just like I trust you with my life. You are very dear to me. You also need to quit seeing me only in your bad dreams. I have no doubt that a mighty supe like you could even control his dreams.”

Although you are unable to express your affection for him, you can reassure him of your trustworthiness.

He nodded and gave you a small chuckle before playfully remarking, “You talk too much tonight, sweetheart,” without adding anything. “I’m sure that cute mouth of yours can do other things to that mighty supe.”

“Like what?” you said in amusement.

“Like kissing me.”

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆

A/N: I hope you liked this one. You can check my MASTERLIST for more. ♡˚.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy the boys #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys #the boys series #the boys season 4 #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys x y/n #the boys tv #the boys amazon #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fic

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nameless-jamie · 5 months ago

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I love the PA series!! So so good! The dynamic between them <3 if you ever write more of them, I’d love to see your take on a role reversal type of situation where Jamie has to help his PA (maybe she’s having a bad day or something like that).

Thank you for all your writing <3 and hope your week is going okay!

Tissues and Tea

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, flirting

A/N: Hello! Thank you for this great request. I hope you like what I made out of it. I'm doing fine, I hope you have a great rest of the week and enjoy your reading. <3

Y/N should’ve stayed home. She knows that.

But the thought of leaving Jamie Tartt to his own devices for a full day? Unsupervised? With a match coming up and at least three emails that need responses before noon? Absolutely not.

So here she is, standing outside his house, sniffling, a little wobbly on her feet, but determined. Her usual pencil skirt and blouse combo were exchanged for some jeans and a loose hoodie. She rings the doorbell and barely has time to brace herself before Jamie swings the door open, wearing—of course—nothing but gray sweatpants and a cocky grin.

"Ew, you look like death."

"Good morning to you too," she grumbles, brushing past him into the warmth of his house.

Jamie shuts the door behind her, frowning. "Nah, for real. Why d’you sound like a ninety-year-old chain-smoker?"

She ignores him, heading straight to the kitchen counter where she usually sets up her laptop. "I’m fine. Just a little cold."

Jamie narrows his eyes, watching as she unpacks her work things with shaky hands. "Right," he drawls. "And I’m fuckin’ Cristiano Ronaldo."

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her head was throbbing and she could not take any banter today. "Jamie, I’m fine."

"You’re not fine," he counters, stepping closer. "You look like you’re gonna pass out. Actually—" He pokes her arm and she loses her balance a little. "—yeah, that’s definitely wobbly behavior, love."

She swats his hand away. "I just need to get through the day, then I’ll rest."

Jamie scoffs. "Yeah, not happening." Before she can argue, he grabs her laptop and walks off with it.

"Jamie—what the hell?!" she croaks, chasing after him.

"Oi, don’t strain yourself," he teases, holding it above his head like a schoolboy dodging a playground fight. "You’re sick. Ya need to rest. And lucky for you, I’m a proper gentleman, so I’m gonna look after ya today. Call me your personal assistant."

She blinks. "You? Taking care of me?"

Jamie gasps, mock-offended. "What, ya don’t trust me?"

"Not even a little bit."

"Rude," he mutters, placing her laptop high up on a shelf, far out of her reach. He puts his hands on her shoulders and shoves her towards the living room "Now, let’s get ya on the couch, yeah?"

She knows she should fight this, but honestly? Standing for this long is exhausting. And Jamie's 50.000-pound-couch looked comfy ass hell. So, reluctantly, she lets him guide her to the couch, where he throws a ridiculously big fluffy blanket over her.

"There," he says, hands on his hips. "All cozy. Like a little babeh."

"I can’t move," she deadpans, buried under the weight of the blanket.

"Exactly." he pulls the finger-guns at her.

She glares at him, but Jamie just grins.

A beat of silence, then—

"Want some tea?"

She exhales. "That would be nice, actually."

Jamie beams, disappearing into the kitchen. A minute later, she hears cabinets slamming, the sink running, and Jamie muttering "fuckin’ hell, where’s the sugar?" under his breath.

"It's in the second cupboard on the left," Y/N shouted as loud as her croaky voice let her.

"Got it!"

When he returns, he hands her a mug with the smuggest expression. "There ya go, love. My specialty."

She takes a sip—and immediately grimaces. "Jamie."

"What?"

"This is just hot sugar water."

He frowns. "Nah, it’s tea."

"The teabag is what makes it tea..." she narrows his eyes at him. "Let me guess, you don't know where the teabags are?"

"I could put some leaves from my kitchen plant in there. Same thing, innit?" he scratches his neck embarrassed.

She sighs, setting it down. "You’re lucky I’m too weak to fight you right now."

Jamie plops down next to her, looking way too pleased with himself. "You are lucky, actually. Not everyone gets personal Jamie Tartt care."

She gives him a tired, but teasing look. "Oh, so this is an exclusive service? Where do I complain? Is there like a hotline or..."

"Hey don't get sassy with me, you booked the VIP package. Special treatment. No refunds." He smirks, then leans in a little. "Want me to tuck ya in?"

"Jamie."

"I’ll do it proper, promise. Maybe even sing ya a lullaby."

"Jamie."

His smirk widens. "Or, if ya prefer, I could be your personal hot water bottle. Y’know, for extra warmth."

"Jamie."

"What? No cuddlin' ?"

She rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch—because despite everything, he is making her feel better.

He watches her for a moment, his teasing expression softening just a little. Then, without thinking, he reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Y’know," he says quietly, thumb brushing against her temple, "you spend so much time lookin’ after me. Someone’s gotta return the favor, yeah?"

Her breath catches.

It’s the kind of moment she’s always tried to ignore—the kind where Jamie isn’t just the flirty, cocky footballer she works for, but something more. Someone who cares about her. Someone who, if she let herself believe it, might actually love her.

But she’s too tired to overthink it today.

So instead of pushing him away, she just leans into his already open arms, lets herself relax under the ridiculous blanket, and mutters, "Fine. But if you try to feed me soup, I’m leaving."

Jamie grins. "Nah, love. I’m terrible at soup."

And with that, he settles in beside her, her head on his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Y/n's silent snores fill the room and Jamie sighs satisfied. Yep, he's refusing to move from this position—ever again.

#jamie tartt x y/n #roy kent #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso show #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso #sam obisanya #jamie tartt #afc richmond

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wilwheaton · 1 year ago

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what are your hobbies?

I have a garden that I love to work in every day.

During the lockdowns, I learned the difference between having a garden, and tending a garden. It turns out that I just love to tend my garden. I love to walk in it, smell all the smells, prune it and tie it up where it needs it, keep the soil healthy, and leave it alone when I've done enough.

In a lot of ways, I use my gardening time as a metaphor. One that was particularly meaningful to me lately came when I was pruning this feral tomato that showed up in one of my beds late last year. As a general rule, when I get any volunteers, I leave them alone, except to keep them away from things I've planted myself. But in this case, it was growing so fast and getting so out of control, I had to rein it in a bit, with some pruning and gentle redirection of the parts which were tied to the trellis.

I started thinking about the individual stalks as parts of my life experience: here's one that doesn't have anything growing on it, but if I follow it all the way to this point, I can see that it's providing support and nutrients to this huge, thriving, massively flowering hunk of the plant. It turns out that part may look like it isn't doing anything, but without it, this other part that's gorgeous wouldn't exist.

I could have just looked at it and seen a stalk that wasn't doing anything. I could have easily pruned it right then and there, and only after would I have discovered this lush, thriving, beautiful part of the plant that can't exist without this other part. I was so grateful that I took the time to look at the whole thing, to see that bare stem in context, to appreciate it.

I don't know if this particular metaphor lands on you, but it landed real hard on me. It inspired a wonderful moment of reflection and gratitude, and I also got excited for the ... I mean, it's at least a dozen, but maybe more ... little cherry tomatoes I'm going to get when they finish ripening.

I have recently noticed that, as long as I can remember, I have felt like I can't slow down, like I can't take time for myself, that I should always be working or trying to work. I've been working on healing as much of my CPTSD as I can, and part of that includes doing my best to give myself permission to slow down, to take entire days or even weeks off, because I have earned it. It's such a struggle for me.

And that's where my garden is a metaphor again: it may not be full of blooming flowers or tons of vegetables right now, but that doesn't mean it isn't growing. Maybe it needs to be watered and fed today, and tomorrow, I can just walk through it, and enjoy it.

It's one of my very few hobbies that are mostly private, that I keep for myself. I freely and enthusiastically share my love for classic arcade gaming, Tabletop and RPG games, and all my super nerd shit, so I like that I have this one thing that's just for me.

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zorosangell · 7 months ago

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I love your fics sm they’ve been getting me through my weekend! In honor of the cold and flu season, maybe a Zoro x Sick Reader would be cute ^^ (where of course Zoro is a big blockhead who doesn’t know how to care for someone who is sick but is too overprotective to not at least try).

⛥ﾟ・。 ham melon

synopsis: after you contract a rare, deadly disease, zoro has to take care of you... the best he can.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is a lovable idiot, reader's a little nervous

a/n: love the love i'm receiving from some of you guys tysm. though i just wanted to remind some of you in my inbox that it is the holiday season, and while i'm writing these i am also getting my house and gifts together for christmas. so plz give me some grace lol. i am doing my best to work through my asks

"Zoro... honey... I don't think I can eat that," you rasped, breathing labored and voice weak as you glanced toward the man standing at your bed side. "I can barely keep down water..."

Eye wide, Zoro flushed with embarrassment, now feeling stupid as he glanced down at his hands, which held the bone of a comically large cut of raw ham melon.

And after he spent a whole hour looking for it, too...

'Dammit.'

"Shit..." he cursed under his breath, tossing the meat off to the side as he ran an anxious hand through his hair, looking around the room for something else to help.

Of course, fate had to have chosen the worst possible person in the world to leave you with.

"Alright, I'll... um... shit..." he frantically thought aloud, his hand coming to rest on his chin as he brainstormed more things to give you. "Tea helps people when they're sick, right? Do you want some tea?"

He turned to you for an answer, only to be met by your heavy wheezes, your chest rising and falling both slowly and deeply in an attempt to get as much air as possible.

Your eyes were shut, blankets pulled up to your neck for the body chills and rag placed carefully on your forehead for the fever—which was a whopping 104 degrees last he checked.

Moving closer, Zoro removed the wet cloth and placed the back of his hand in its stead, letting it rest against the painful flush for a moment before quickly yanking it away, worried.

"Christ, woman, your burning up! Tea's gonna kill you!" he winced, concerned, before quickly turning around and rushing toward the exit. "Here, gimme a second!"

Bursting into the kitchen, he bee-lined it for the cupboard and grabbed a glass, moving to get water out of the fridge.

Chopper and the others would have to hurry up if you were going to survive the night.

After docking on a mysterious, tropical island, you somehow managed to catch a rare disease—a disease that had a one-hundred percent fatality rate.

Naturally, the entire crew was worried, but an elderly woman from the town explained that a cure could be made from the large lotus flower that sat in the center of the jungle.

But, because there's always a catch, the jungle was teeming with dangerous animals and man-eating plants, thus making the trip a suicide mission.

So, Luffy and the others embarked on the journey, while your boyfriend was left on ship-watching and you-watching duty.

Though, it was clear that the crew was having a far easier time with their task.

"I got you some water," Zoro stated, walking back into the room.

Quickly, he took a seat next to your bed, scooping his hand under your neck and lifting you up, helping the cup to your lips as you drank.

"Thank you..." you mumbled, taking a few sips before allowing him to lay you back down. "M'sorry... m'such a pain in the ass."

"The hell are you talking about?" he raised a brow, placing the glass on the end table.

"Well... you never get sick... and it's my luck the one time I do, it's deadly," you looked down at yourself, slightly embarrassed. "Not to mention you probably had things you wanted to do today..."

"You talk as if I think you're a burden."

"Well—"

"That's stupid."

You piped down, slightly surprised by his blunt statement.

"There's no burden in this relationship. There's me... and there's you," he stated, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "You keep me sane... and I protect you... and both of us pick up the slack where we need it."

Seriously, he turned to you, eye practically peering through your soul.

"I don't date dead-weight. If that were the case, I would've never asked you out in the first place."

Gagged, you could do nothing but sit there, stunned to silence.

You didn't know he thought so much of the relationship...

Not that you were treating it was a fling, but that you didn't think your swordsman read so much into it.

"You're talking better. The fever must be breaking," Zoro yawned, standing up from his seat. "You need anything else?"

Quietly, you shook your head, and he let out a heavy sigh, allowing his shoulders to slightly sink before he flopped onto bed with you.

"Good... M'takin' a nap..."

"Zoro! I'm gonna get you sick!"

He grunted in response, allowing his eye to shut as he rolled over and dropped his head in the pillows, tucking his hands behind his head.

"You said it yourself... I don't get sick..."

"Well, I don't wanna risk it!"

"Just shut up and c'mere," he mumbled, looping his arm around your waist and jerking you into his side.

The moment you came in contact with his shirtless body, you nearly let out a sigh of relief, his warm skin doing wonders for your body chills.

'Maybe... a few snuggles won't hurt...'

"Five minutes..." you warned, groggily, resting your head on his chest as you inched closer.

"Mhmmm," he hummed in agreement, already half asleep.

Though, when the rest of the crew returned around midnight, the two of your were still in bed together, a mess of limbs and snores as Zoro held you close—his position that of a shield as his front cradled you in his arms, and his back shielded you from any outside dangers.

After Chopper administered your medicine, and Luffy ate the ham melon left behind on the desk, the crew left, leaving you both to continue your slumber.

Zoro, relieved that you were still alive, able to sense your breathing through his sleep.

You, relieved to know that your swordsman viewed you so highly, and saw you as anything but a burden.

#zorosangell #one piece x reader #one piece #roronoa #roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro #zoro x reader #op

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jennay · 1 month ago

Text

Masterlist

Word Count:2270

Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary/request: Noah, the tattoo artist, works across the street from the flower shop where a certain girl can’t seem to stop stealing glances his way.

AN: Should there be a part two? Showing their first date?

Riley lets out a sigh, watching as your gaze drifts once again to the tattoo shop across the street, where one of the men stands outside, cigarette in hand. She’s tired of seeing you doubt yourself, constantly insisting that he doesn’t notice you. But Riley knows better. She’s seen the way he lingers when he comes to buy flowers, how he pretends to browse just for an excuse to stay a little longer. She could swear he was flirting at one point, but you were too oblivious to see it.

"You could ask him out, you know?" she says, matter-of-fact. "It’s really not that big of a deal. If he says no, at least you tried."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You drift to the other side of your grandma's flower shop, reaching for the watering can as you eye the roses—drooping slightly, in need of care. "Besides, he's not single. There's no way in hell. And, well… I'm me." You set the watering can down with a soft clink, brushing off the lingering doubt in your voice.

Your hands find an empty pot, then loose soil. You meant to plant these hyacinth bulbs over a week ago, but paperwork had kept you occupied—your grandma’s way of preparing you to take over when she retires.

"What does that even mean?" Riley walks over, sliding onto the counter beside you and your project. She offers you a pair of gloves, but you're already pressing your fingers into the earthy soil.

You keep shifting the soil around, a little too forcefully. "I'm probably not his type. Girls like me don’t get guys like that. Have you seen Noah?"

Riley’s brows pull together, her nose wrinkling in disbelief. "Girls like you? You mean beautiful, intelligent, and hilarious girls? Please—he’d be lucky!" She rolls her eyes, then tilts her head toward your project. "Do you need a break? That poor plant looks like it’s about to suffocate."

With a sigh, you slide the pot toward her. "Yeah."

As you move to the sink, washing the dirt from your hands, you can’t shake the feeling that Riley is just saying all this to lift you up to be a good friend. But believing her? That’s a different story.

When you reach the door, you turn back to her. "I’m gonna run to the pizza place. Do you want anything?"

Riley shakes her head, shooing you off with a flick of her wrist. "I'm good. Stay and eat there. Take a break… and don’t even think about coming back until your hour’s up, grumpy."

As you step outside, your timing is almost too perfect, Noah is just leaving the tattoo shop. He catches sight of you, and his smile is effortless, easy. Suddenly, your stomach isn’t sure whether to twist into knots or flutter like a hundred restless wings. You manage a shy, slightly awkward wave, and he waves back but your gaze is already fixed straight ahead, missing the moment entirely.

Lucky for you, the city's best pizza parlor is just down the street, and with the warm breeze and clear sky, the walk feels like a little gift. You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were until you stepped inside.

"Hi, dear!" Mr. Parker’s voice is bright and welcoming, just like always. He remembers you by how you helped him pick the perfect flowers for his wife, how patient you were. Now, he stops by the shop often, even taking lessons from you so he can impress her with his newfound gardening skills.

Your smile widens as you scan the glass case, each pizza looking more tempting than the last. "These look incredible!"

Mr. Parker chuckles, waving a hand. "Ahh, you're too kind. I recommend the new chicken barbecue—mozzarella, fresh basil, straight from the garden. A masterpiece, if I do say so myself."

"Well, I guess I have no choice but to try it." You hand him your debit card, but he slides it right back across the counter.

"On the house today," he says with a wink.

You thank him warmly, then take your plated pizza to the cozy corner table, pulling out your phone. If you had to be away from the shop for an hour, you might as well make it count.

The bells above the door chime as someone steps inside, but your attention is locked on your screen. Then, the first bite of pizza—pure magic. Smoky, sweet, creamy, and fresh all at once. Your eyes flutter closed, a satisfied smile easing onto your lips.

"What kind did you get?"

That voice—you’d recognize it anywhere.

Noah.

You crack one eye open, setting your pizza down before quickly grabbing a napkin. "Chicken barbecue."

Noah raises a brow as he settles into the chair across from you, sliding his plate onto the table. "Bold choice. I went with plain ol’ pepperoni classic, dependable."

Your gaze flickers to his hands, a fleeting curiosity about the rings he wears. Your stomach twists when you spot the one on his left ring finger, and internally, you scold yourself. This is exactly why you ignored Riley. Why entertain fantasies about someone who’s clearly unavailable?

"My grandma loved those flowers you recommended," he says, and his boyish grin is charming, effortless—catches you off guard. It’s annoyingly contagious.

"That’s good," you reply, trying to sound casual, unaffected. "You'll have to stop by this week. We’ve got some specials."

You cringe inwardly. You weren’t trying to sell him flowers, you were just grasping for something to say. You two weren’t exactly close. Sure, he’d come into the shop a few times, and one of his coworkers had given you a tattoo a while back, but outside of that, your interactions had mostly been polite smiles and brief waves.

Yet, here he was, sitting across from you, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who was supposedly just another passing acquaintance.

Noah chuckles, shaking his head. "Well, you don’t have to tell me twice. I’ll be there."

Whoever married him was lucky.

Noah didn’t just exist in a room…he filled it. He had this way of making you feel like you were the only person that mattered in a conversation, even if you knew that was just… him.

You force a smile, hoping it hides the whirlwind in your chest. "Well, I’ll look forward to it."

Your heart immediately sinks. Why did you say that? Why did it sound like—like something more?

You push the thought away as quickly as it comes, standing abruptly. "I should get going. God only knows what Riley is up to."

Noah leans back in his chair, arms casually draped over the sides. "Right, wouldn’t want her starting any revolutions while you’re gone."

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head, but the nerves still tangle in your stomach. "It was nice seeing you."

"Yeah, you too." He gives you an easy smile—so damn easy, like none of this is affecting him the way it’s affecting you. "I’ll see you around."

"Bye."

You make a beeline for the trash, tossing your plate away like it betrayed you somehow, then slip out the door before your mouth can betray you next. The walk back to the flower shop is brisk, your hands stuffed into your pockets as if that’ll somehow keep your thoughts in check.

When you push through the shop doors, Riley barely glances up from her book. She’s lounging behind the counter, perfectly content.

"He’s married."

You throw your hands up, frustration spilling over.

Riley slowly marks her place in the book, setting it down with an exaggerated sigh. "Oh?"

"Yes!" You drag a hand down your face, pacing as your thoughts race. "Left ring finger. How did I not notice that before?"

Riley hums thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against the counter. "That is… interesting."

You freeze, narrowing your eyes. "Interesting? What do you mean, 'interesting'?"

She shrugs, entirely too casual. "Did you actually see a wedding band?"

You pause. Think.

No. You saw a ring—yes—but was it actually a wedding band? Or had your brain just filled in the worst-case scenario because that was easier?

Riley smirks, knowing exactly where your thoughts are spiraling. "Looks like someone has some investigating to do."

You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. "Riley."

"You’re the one who said it was 'too good to be true,'" she teases. "Maybe it's just… good."

The day drags on, and despite your best efforts to stay focused on customers, you can’t shake the lingering interaction with Noah. You sulk quietly in the corner, tending to the hydrangeas that have decided to be overly dramatic this season. No matter how much water, sunlight, or whispered encouragement you give them, they insist on wilting in protest.

The bell jingles as the front door swings open, but you don’t bother looking up. Riley has it handled. All you want is for the day to end so you can go home, reset, and forget the ridiculous butterflies Noah somehow set loose in your stomach.

A sudden tap on your shoulder yanks you from your pity party. You whip around, startled, only to meet Noah’s piercing gaze and ridiculously charming smile.

"I didn’t mean to startle you," he says, hands slipping into his pockets, looking entirely too comfortable standing there in your shop.

Oh. Shit.

As if today couldn’t get any worse, here he is to buy flowers. For his wife.

Because of course he is.

Because of course you had spent your morning overthinking every interaction with him, only for reality to come and hit you like a freight train.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you manage to keep your voice steady. "That’s okay, I was just trying to figure out why these hydrangeas keep throwing a tantrum." You lift one up, frowning at its drooping petals.

Noah’s smile lingers as he watches you, eyes scanning the flowers, but it’s different now. Not flirtatious, just... curious. Like he finds you genuinely fascinating.

"So," he muses, tilting his head, "what’s your favorite flower? What would you recommend for a fun woman—something that says, unique, passionate, and beautiful?"

Oh, this sucked.

Your fingers twitch with the urge to shove him toward Riley, let her handle this mess, but she’s deep in conversation with an elderly couple. You’re on your own.

"Well," you say, forcing a breath, "these aren’t supposed to grow here, but I figured out how to keep them alive." You guide him toward the back of the shop, toward your personal favorites.

His gaze flicks over the delicate blooms, eyes widening in admiration. "Wow. What are these? They look like tiny hearts."

A soft laugh escapes you despite yourself. "It’s kinda emo—they’re called Bleeding Hearts."

Noah grins, running his fingers lightly over the petals. "That’s metal."

You snort. "Right?"

"I’ll take them." He grabs a small bouquet without hesitation.

"Good choice." You nod, leading him back to the front.

When you ring up his purchase, he doesn’t hesitate to hand you the cash. As you slide the receipt toward him, he turns to leave but stops just before reaching the door.

He looks back at you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

"Something wrong?" you ask, laughing lightly, trying to shake the tension creeping into the air. "I’ll take them back—a full refund, no questions asked."

Noah chuckles as he strolls to the counter, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Nothing's wrong," he says, casually placing the flowers in front of you.

You blink at him. Then at the flowers. Then back at him. Your eyebrow shoots up. "Are you feeling okay?"

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as if that’ll somehow make this moment less awkward. "They’re for you," he blurts out. "I—uh—I didn’t know how to ask you out, and in my head, this was going way smoother." He groans, shaking his head. "Did I blow it?"

Your lips part in surprise, but then your gaze instinctively drops to his hand, the one adorned with rings, particularly the one on his left ring finger.

"Aren’t you married?" you ask, pointing accusingly at the evidence.

Noah softly laughs shaking his head. "No! I just like rings." He lifts his hand, wiggling his fingers like they’re part of some magic trick. "Purely decorative, I swear."

You squint at him, suspicious. "So you like messing with people?"

"Absolutely not." He pauses, then grins. "Okay, maybe a little. But only when the reactions are entertaining."

You roll your eyes, but you’re already smiling. Bringing the flowers to your face, you inhale their soft, sweet scent, trying to hide the way your cheeks warm under his gaze.

"There’s definitely a spark," you finally admit, peeking at him over the petals. "And yes, I’ll go on a date with you."

Noah visibly relaxes, a huge grin spreading across his face. "Seriously?"

You grab a scrap of paper, quickly scribbling down your number and sliding it across the counter. "I’m off at five."

His fingers brush yours as he takes the paper, sending an unexpected jolt through you.

"I’ll see you soon," he says, his voice carrying an edge of nervous excitement.

He steps toward the door, hesitates for just a moment, then glances back, offering you a final wave before disappearing outside.

You stare at the spot where he stood, your smile stretching so wide it almost hurts.

"I don’t mean to brag," Riley drawls, sidling up beside you, "but I told you so."

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