#can the leaves start turning orange and yellow and red already

[gloomwitchwrites]

You send him a text "Thanks for the flowers, babe" attached with a photo of a bouquet as a prank. Obvs, he gets jealous/possessive.

Anon, I love this. I cackled the first time I read it, and I've been wanting to get to it for a while. There are so many requests (and I will get to them all), but with my health being shit, I'm trying to select from the pool where I'm not overworking my brain or stressing myself out trying to come up with something. This prompt came very naturally to me.

These are all spicy. Period. I didn't hold back with this one. Maybe I'm ovulating or some shit but I literally couldn't write anything but smut for this prompt. I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope you enjoy.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, dirty talk, praise, spanking, oral sex (female & male receiving), face fucking, restraints, vaginal fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, jealousy, possessive behavior, orgasm control

Word Count: 4.4k

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ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He ignores it, attention stuck on Price who stands in front of a large map of Europe.

There are pictures—some have a red “X” through them while a couple others have black question marks. The mission isn’t done, but that isn’t surprising. This has taken months to complete. It’s been slow, and entirely too complicated for Simon’s liking.

His phone buzzes again, the vibration pulling his attention away.

When the third buzz comes in, his agitation turns to worry. Simon never allows messages to come through at work unless it’s from very specific people. To have three come through in less than two minutes stirs something in his gut.

Price starts talking again but Simon’s brain is melting. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out his phone. Keeping it next to his thigh, Simon awakens the screen.

Your name is there and 3 new messages.

Simon glances up, but no one is looking at him. Silently, he unlocks the phone and clicks over to his messages, tapping on your name.

At first, Simon doesn’t understand. His brain short-circuits, and then unbridled jealousy comes roaring forward.

The first message is a photo of a beautiful bouquet sitting on the kitchen island. It’s fucking large, taking up most of the space. The flowers are different shades of pink, yellow, and orange. It looks like spring.

Beneath the picture are two texts.

Thanks for the flowers!!

I love you!

But Simon did not get you flowers. He didn’t order these, and he certainly didn’t have them delivered to the flat.

Fuck. What the actual fuck.

Someone else did this.

Simon’s first thought is that Johnny did it to prank him. But Johnny has been a bit subdued today, and his attention isn’t on Simon at all.

No. It’s likely not him.

Simon locks his phone and stews. He can’t just leave this meeting. It’s important, but he’s going to get to the fucking bottom of it.

By the time Price dismisses them, Simon is already out the door, charging toward his locker to grab his stuff. It usually takes him a half hour to arrive home, but today he does it in twenty. When Simon bursts through the front door, he’s ready to toss those flowers right off the balcony.

But then he sees your face—how happy you are—and Simon melts. You throw yourself into his arms, and Simon instinctually responds, embracing you tightly. He presses his face into your hair and inhales.

“Missed you,” you say, grabbing both sides of his face and kissing him. “Thank you for the flowers.”

I didn’t get you any flowers.

Simon smiles because it’s all he can manage. That jealousy from earlier starts to curl back up, twisting around in his ribcage.

“Did you like the note?”

You frown. “What note?”

The way you ask is…odd. It’s far too innocent in the presentation. Simon knows your cues and this seems forced to him. But the sender didn’t leave a message. That doesn’t give Simon much to go on if he’s going to track down who sent them.

“Maybe they forgot,” he replies, kissing your forehead. “Show them to me.”

With a bright smile, you take his hand, guiding him into the kitchen. They’re much more stunning in person and Simon momentarily freezes. Did he forget your birthday? An anniversary? An important event?

Simon recalls nothing for today’s date.

The jealousy rises again but he clamps down on it. Anyone could have sent this, especially a friend of yours or a family member. Doesn’t mean there is someone out there with predatory intentions. And for all Simon knows, you’re having a laugh, riling me up. You’ve done it before.

“They’re lovely,” observes Simon. “Better than the picture.”

Your grin is gorgeous, a thing Simon wants to bottle up. You open your mouth to answer him but the dryer goes off. “Hold on,” you call over your shoulder as you dash away. “Let me change over the loads.”

When you disappear, Simon goes for the bouquet. He quickly checks through every flower and between the stems, even sticks his fingers in the dirt. Simon doesn’t know what the fuck he’s looking for, but he’s grasping for anything.

The only thing of note is the business card which Simon quickly plucks from its holder and tucks into his pocket. Simon steps away from the bouquet when you appear again.

Jealousy is stewing, showing its fangs, curling tighter around Simon’s ribs.

When you reach for him, Simon sweeps you off your feet, planting you on the kitchen island. You giggle, but Simon cuts it off, drawing you to the edge to seize your lips in a fierce kiss.

That jealous viper between his bones tells him to possess you.

Simon’s hands drop to your waist and then your hips. He settles himself between your legs, hands moving down to your bare thighs.

You’re flushed with embarrassment, attempting to hide your face from him, giggling his name as you fist his shirt.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” rasps Simon.

Your lips part and Simon slides his tongue inside. You moan, suck on his tongue, and release him. Simon’s grip on your thighs tightens.

“All day?” you ask softly.

Moving his hands to beneath your thighs, Simon tugs you into his arms and carries you over to the dining room table, but doesn’t place you on top of it. He brings you to your feet, and then his fingers curl around the shorts that are little more than underwear.

“Take these off.”

“Simon—”

“Do it,” he growls, releasing them and bringing his hand back to his side.

Slowly, you do as he says. You bring them up so that Simon can see them before tossing them to the side. That viper in him hisses, the venom leaking into his system.

Simon slides his hand between your thighs. You lean back against the table, hands resting on the edge as you part your legs. What his fingers find only makes him groan.

Withdrawing, Simon licks his fingers clean. “Turn around. Bend over the table. Show me what I want.” With a smirk on your lips, you face the table, and bend forward, going up on your toes.

Fuck the flowers and whoever sent them. You’re his.

Simon unbuckles the front of his belt, undoes the zipper of his pants, and frees his aching cock. He needs to be inside you, to hear you say his name, to feel you come around him. He needs to possess because it’s the only thing he can do right now.

Guiding with his hand, Simon rubs the head of his cock through your slickness. You’re already so wet for him—so fucking needy, and he’ll devour it all. Give you exactly what you want while taking something for him.

As he starts to slide in, you whimper. Reaching back, your hand grabs your ass, opening yourself a bit wider for him.

Bloody hell.

Simon doesn’t want to go slow. Using his grip on your hip, he slides all the way in, making you take him to the hilt with one forward thrust of his hips.

Your gasp is choked, and then Simon is lost, pounding into you as if this is the last time he’ll ever fuck you. It’s only your tightness, your breathy moans of pleasure, and the desperate why you say his name. It wraps around him, satiates the viper, calms the rising jealousy until it’s only you Simon can focus on.

Through the haze, Simon finds your clit, plays with it, slows his thrusts until your orgasm arrives, squeezing him so tight he almost finishes right then and there. But once that wave crests and crashes, Simon is back at it. Planting both hands on the table on either side of your waist, Simon stutters out, his lower back tensing, everything draw up.

Simon’s orgasm is an unraveling. All the tension melts as he finishes, and even then, he continues to thrust, pushing his cum deeper inside you. His chest heaves, body shuddering as he draws back a bit. Your breathing is just as labored.

Easing out of your body, Simon admires the bloom of cum at your entrance. He presses it back inside before helping you unbend from the table. Turning you around to face him, Simon claims your mouth in a deep kiss, his grasping the back of your head.

You form to him, and Simon’s hunger flares.

“To bed,” he says, drawing you away with a tug on your hair.

“To sleep?” you ask, smirking.

Maybe you did all this. Planned it all from the beginning.

Naughty girl.

Simon shakes his head. “Not yet.”

He releases you, and then smacks your ass for good measure. Squeaking, you scurry away toward the bedroom. Simon stands there for a moment, composing himself. Reaching into his pocket, he withdraws the business card. There is an address and a phone number.

Glancing over his shoulder at the bouquet, Simon comes to a decision. Stalking toward his duffle, Simon secures the business card in a side pocket. He’ll deal with this at work.

Right now, you’re getting undressed.

And Simon is much more interested in that.

Flowers can wait.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You send the final text and lock your phone, leaving it on the coffee table.

It’s just a little prank. A tease.

Kyle is always a gentleman even when he makes your toes curl and pulls unseemly sounds from between your lips. But riling him up can be just as fun. Kyle isn’t one to be jealous or even possessive of you. He’s certainly protective, and his presence always makes you feel safe, but you’re aching for something else right now.

The flowers weren’t all that expensive. And they are pretty.

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it.

It buzzes again.

When you check the screen, you see two new texts from Kyle. You stare at it, and set it back down. You’re going to let him stew and question. If anything, Kyle might think the flowers innocent.

Tapping your fingers against your knee, impatience stirring in your belly, you stare out the patio door. You need to distract yourself, but the urge to look is too strong. Snatching the phone back up, you glance at the messages.

That’s sweet, love.

But I didn’t get you flowers.

Honesty. This man is terrible at lying or hiding his feelings.

You tap out a reply.

Of course you did! Loved the note you left with it!

Kyle’s reply is instant.

Note?

You nearly cackle at the ceiling and when you hit send.

I want you tonight. You know you can have me whenever lol. No need to send flowers about it.

Within seconds of you hitting send, you phone starts to vibrate. Yelping, you nearly drop the thing. Kyle’s name and a photo of him at the beach pop up on your screen. You stare at it, allowing it to go to voicemail. He calls again immediately.

You launch off the couch, pacing as the phone falls back into voicemail. It’s a bit thrilling knowing that Kyle is likely worked up on the other end.

Answer the phone, comes Kyle’s next text, and then, I’m coming home.

Oh shit.

You are all nervous excitement waiting for him. And when he does come barreling through the door, you’re a bit shocked at the sight of him.

Slowly, he shuts the front door, striding into the kitchen where the bouquet is. He stares at it for a long moment before turning his gaze on you.

“Kyle,” you say brightly, walking toward him.

He holds up a finger and walks past you. You hear the opening and shutting of doors, of drawers being opened, and items moving around. Kyle returns, hands on his hips, concern on his features.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I didn’t send you those flowers.”

“Didn’t you?” you reply, innocently, moving toward them.

Kyle shoots forward and begins digging through the stems. “Where is that bloody card?” he mutters.

There is no card. No note. You made it all up.

“Kyle,” you say, but he ignores you.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he says, ripping opening the plastic to see inside.

“Kyle,” you repeat, adding a bit of volume behind your voice.

Again, he ignores you, scattering the flowers across the countertop.

“When I find the fucking wanker that—”

“Kyle!”

He turns, eyes a bit wild. Kyle looks ridiculous, and you suddenly feel terrible. You reach for him, placing both hands on either side of his face. “There’s no note.”

Kyle blinks like he didn’t hear you correctly. “What?”

“There’s no note,” you repeat. “I bought the flo—”

Kyle groans loudly and places his entire hand over your face, muffling the last few words. “Bloody hell, baby girl.” He lightly pushes off, dropping his hand, and stepping back.

You grin sheepishly as Kyle crosses his arms over his chest.

“What was the goal?” he asks, leaning forward a bit.

You shrug your shoulders. “To rile you up?”

Kyle laughs, short and clipped. “Rile me up?”

“Yes,” you say slowly.

He leans in a bit more, a smirk on his face. “And what do you think was going to happen once you riled me up?”

You know that Kyle already knows the answer to this question. But he’s indulging you. As he always does.

“I didn’t think that far,” you reply, but it’s far from the truth.

You wanted to rile him up so that he’d come home and fuck you like a man possessed.

Kyle bites down on his bottom lip and you track the movement. “No, love. You did.” He straightens. “And I know what you want.”

Kyle steps into your space, his head dipping as if to kiss you but pausing just before. “You need a good throat fucking. I need an apology. And then I can give you what you want.”

“Kyle,” you breathe.

“On your knees, love. Present your mouth.”

You obediently drop to your knees, and part your lips.

“Wider,” he almost growls.

You do so just as Kyle reaches down and undoes the front of his belt. He doesn’t even look. Doesn’t flinch. The belt is gone and the front of his pants are open by the time Kyle grabs your face and brings you close.

“Tongue out.”

You do so, and Kyle taps the head of his cock against it before sliding it back and forth over your tongue. His hold shifts, falling to the nape of your neck.

“Take it like a good girl. Got it?”

You nod, and Kyle draws you forward, forcing you to take all of him. Holding you in place for a few seconds, Kyle only eases you back once your gag reflex kicks in. Kyle adjusts his stance, and your hands grasp the sides of his thighs.

Kyle’s hand on the back of your neck tightens as his other hand tangles in your hair. Keeping you in place, he starts to thrust, fucking your mouth like he would your pussy. All you can do is cling to him, to hold on as he grunts above you.

There isn’t any anger there, just a stern brow and a need for control. It’s delicious. Entirely mouth-watering. Your core warms, a slickness blooming, indicating just how much this turns you on.

To bring Kyle toward his end, you make little sounds in your throat. It makes him stutter. It makes him moan. Beneath his pants, you feel the muscles in his legs tighten. And then he’s forcing you down his length, throating him entirely as he comes down your throat.

Breathing through you nose is the only thing holding you together. And when he slides you off, you cough, wiping at your lips.

Kyle’s hand caresses your cheek, drawing your gaze to him. He arches a single eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

Reaching out, Kyle draws you up to your feet, bringing you close. His smile is soft, and when he comes in for a kiss, it is consuming.

“Now that you’ve riled me up,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’ll give you what you want.”

Kyle pulls away, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip.

“Take off your clothes. Kneel on the bed. And bend over. Got it?”

You nod, and Kyle drops his hand.

“That’s my good girl.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny’s ears are ringing.

“You better be bloody joking,” he growls at his phone.

On the screen is a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Flowers that you’re thanking him for. Flowers that he didn’t send.

And the card? Bloody fucking hell. That card is going in the shredder. Johnny will tear it apart with his own teeth if he has to. Some fucker had the bright idea to send you flowers like he’s the one you’re dating.

No. Fuck that.

Johnny might be the demolitions expert, but he knows Ghost could dig around for him if he asked. Scratch that. Johnny is asking right fucking now.

“Hey, Lt!” Johnny jogs over to Ghost and turns his phone around. “Can you trace who sent these flowers?”

Ghost’s expression behind the balaclava remains flat. “It’s a fucking photo, Johnny.”

Cursing under his breath, Johnny forwards the image to Ghost. Ghost checks his phone, enlarging the image.

He grunts. “Should be easy.” Ghost glances up from the screen. “Why?”

“Someone making a move on my woman,” replies Johnny, holding back a growl.

“Done,” says Ghost. “Give me a couple hours.”

It doesn’t take Ghost long, and Johnny has to laugh out loud.

“You fucking naughty thing,” mutters Johnny as he unlocks the door to your flat.

When he enters, you’re nearly on your toes, eager for him. It’s cute, but you need to learn first. Sure, the prank is harmless, but you were wanting a rise out of him.

Punishment is needed.

“Johnny,” you say brightly, coming around the counter to greet him.

As you arms reach for him, Johnny removes his belt. Your gaze drops, but he is faster than you. Johnny has the belt around your wrists and secured before you can even protest.

“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly.

“Thought I wouldn’t find out?” Johnny tuts. He yanks you forward, bringing the two of you almost face-to-face. “Bought those flowers yourself.”

Johnny tugs on the belt again. You stumble into him and he spins you around. With another quick tug, Johnny has the belt looped onto one of the coat hooks embedded in the wall.

Reaching down, Johnny palms your ass, his lips pressed to your ear. “Got me all jealous at work. Had Ghost stalking the flower shop and everything.” He squeezes, and then smacks your ass. Hard.

You whimper. “Johnny. I’m sorry.”

“No apologies, love.” He kisses your throat. Your skin is soft and he inhales, savoring your scent. You’re freshly showered, and the smell of your shampoo invades his nostrils.

It doesn’t take much to rid you of your underwear. It’s just you in an old shirt and your bare ass on full display. Johnny slides his hands between you clenched thighs.

“Spread them.”

You do so obediently and a primal part of him simmers with pleasure. Johnny slowly drops to his knees behind you. He savors the view, taking his time to enjoy the sight before him. Even from here, Johnny can see how slick you are. How wanton.

He’s going to devour you. Make you beg. Deny you what it is you most want until you’re a fucking mess for him. That’s punishment enough.

Johnny tests by running one finger over your pussy. It comes back glossy. He pops it into his mouth, groaning at your taste.

“Want me to eat this pretty pussy?” asks Johnny, running his finger over you again.

You nod frantically. “Yes. Please.”

That’s a start.

Johnny leans in, the tip of his tongue playing with your entrance. He traces it with his tongue before slipping inside, slowly fucking you with it. It’s not enough, but Johnny knows this. He needs to suck on your clit and give you his fingers to make you come.

But even then, you’ll have to wait.

You’ll have to beg.

Johnny trails upward, swirling his tongue, finding your clit. He teases it. Flicks it back and forth in a steady stroke. You’re already growing wetter. You’re already moaning above him. Too bad you don’t know what’s coming.

Johnny slides one finger inside of you, pumping twice before inserting a second. You’re tight around him. He can feel the stretch.

He works you slowly, lightly thrusting his fingers in and out of your pussy as he teases your clit with his tongue. Above him, your moans come unbroken and loud. It’s sweet. He loves the sound. But Johnny knows your tells, and when your muscles begin to clench and unclench quickly, he ceases all movement.

“What the fuck,” you gasp, glancing down.

Johnny chuckles. “You have to earn it love.”

“Johnny, please,” you beg.

“What’s that, love? Didn’t hear you?”

“Please,” you say, drawing it out.

“Please what?” he prompts.

“I want to come,” you murmur.

Johnny smirks and starts fucking you with his fingers again, but doesn’t put his mouth back on your clit. It’s not enough for you. You’re squirming. Wiggling. Needing more.

“You pull another stunt like this again, love, and this,” Johnny smacks your ass with a sharp thwack, “will be red.”

“I’m sorry, Johnny. Please. Just—please.”

Johnny teases your clit with a quick swipe of his tongue. “Beg some more.”

You do. All sorts of obscene things fall from your lips. When tears form in the corner of your eyes, Johnny finally gives you relief.

He fucks your gorgeous pussy with his fingers. He tastes and teases until you’re crying out, clamping around him as you come undone.

Johnny withdraws. Straightens.

You’re still hanging on the hook.

He frees you from it, but does not remove the belt from around your wrists. Johnny presses you against him with a flat palm upon your stomach.

“Don’t do that again,” he murmurs.

“I won’t.”

Johnny kisses your throat. “To bed.”

You frown, holding up your bound hands. “But the belt.”

“Stays on,” he says, fisting the tangling leather. “Until I’m done with you.”

John Price

John isn’t one for texting.

You’ll send him a barrage of texts only for him to call you hours later asking what you were texting him about.

Which is why you didn’t think this plan would work.

But then it did, and now you’re bent over John’s lap, bare ass in the air.

John told you that he was working late to catch up on paperwork. Whenever that happens, he always gives you a call to check-in and hear your voice. It’s routine at this point. A comfort. Most of the time, he just wants you on the other side, to have you talk about the day or whatever you want while he’s working. John will usually remain silent, listening, basking in your voice.

You planned it perfectly, knowing that he’d check his phone before giving you a call. You sent the photo of the flowers. A beautiful display really. And they were on sale. You also sent him a picture of the makeshift “note” that you made for it. All it said was “thinking of you” with no name. All of that was follow up by a “thank you” and promises to please him later.

John was calm when he called you—almost eerily so. When you thanked him from the flowers, he didn’t reply. He simply pushed past it. The thing is, John saved all of that energy up for when he came home.

Your ass stings. John rubs the spot he just smacked before squeezing.

“Now, love. Tell me the truth.” He says it so sweetly, like it’s such a simple thing.

And you don’t know how much longer you’ll last under this barrage.

“You bought them for me,” you whimper, keeping up the façade.

John shakes his head. “We both know that’s not true.” He squeezes your ass again, the sting burning slightly when he let’s go.

“I’d guess you’re seeing someone else but that would be lie. Wouldn’t it?”

He punctuates this statement by slipping his hand between your thighs, his fingers running over your pussy, parting your slickness. John dips one finger inside and then another, only to retreat and grab your ass cheek with the same hand.

“I know just how to make you wet, love. You have no one else to run to.”

“I told you—Fuck! John!” You jolt in his lap as his palm comes down on your already throbbing cheek.

“Be honest, love. Or you’ll get a few more.”

You swallow down your pride. You wanted him riled up, but you weren’t expecting this. Not for John to come home, strip you down, and bend you over his lap.

“I bought them,” you grumble.

John’s hand eases. “You what?”

“I bought them,” you snap.

“I knew you did.”

Before you have the chance to form a retort, John guides you up and into his lap. He grabs the front of your throat, bringing you close to him. He does not kiss you. He simply hovers.

“You’re going to straddle my lap and bounce on my cock until I fill you up. You understand?”

You nod, and Price let’s go of your throat.

“Get to it,” he purrs.

John is fully clothed, and you’re wearing nothing at all. You undo the clasp of his belt, pull the zipper, and he flexes his hips enough that you can work his pants down a bit. When his hard length is free to you, you straddle him, lining yourself up.

He remains impassive as you start to sink down. The stretch is perfect—as it always is, and you groan as you seat yourself entirely on his cock. Gripping his shoulders, you roll up and back down, rocking when you can to give your legs a break.

John still stays quiet but his gaze is assessing. Slowly, his hand comes around your neck again, and this time he squeezes slightly. It’s not to hurt. It’s to dominate and possess.

“Who do you belong to, love?” he asks.

“You,” you murmur, sinking down on him.

“Say it again,” repeats John.

“I belong to you,” you gasp, coming up and then back down.

“Again,” and this time there’s a growl in his tone.

“I’m yours, John.”

“Fucking right,” he says, crashing his mouth to yours.

The kiss is a claiming, one that shoots through your body and consumes your limbs and control. You shudder, pussy clenching, and then John is fucking up into you, his hands on your hips.

You’re no longer in control. It’s just John, and his need to possess.

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[pitchsidestories]

taste II Ingrid Engen x Mapi León x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1018

a/n: dear readers, this short, a little silly but cute oneshot was inspired by this request here, happy reading. 🫶🏻 🐈‍⬛

Autumn has finally arrived in Barcelona. Leaves painted in red, orange and yellow started to fall from the trees for one last dance. Baghera was entranced by what nature did and watched everything from her favourite spot in the living room close to the window.

Every year you both were falling in love with that season of the year, as it might be an ending to a summer you fully lived, but also the beginning of something fresh and new.

The champion’s league was about to start and games under the lights were always something special, alone the thought of it filled you with giddy excitement.

“Girls, I invited Esmee for dinner. That’s alright, right?”, you asked your girlfriends who were already in the kitchen.

“Yes, of course, kjaerste.”, Ingrid nodded friendly, standing in front of the stove. While Mapi was launching around in one of the chairs in a sitting position which screamed gay, and parents would judge because of bad posture.

“She was so sad that her parents left again. I thought she could use the distraction.”, you continued. The sad face of the young player was still fresh in your memory.

As a foreign player yourself you knew that being separated from your family for such long periods of time was hard especially when the nights got colder and the daylight shorter.

When you first came to Barcelona at Esmee’s age you were glad that Mapi and Ingrid welcomed you into their home with open arms, the appartement you began to share with them turning into a home away from home soon.

“That’s very sweet of you.”, the Norwegian commented, her forehead covered in frowning lines, looking concentrated at the recipe ahead of her.

“What’s for dinner?”, Mapi questioned smirking.

“I’ve something delicious planned.”, Ingrid announced delighted.

The Spaniard and you took a curious glance at the cookbook before exclaiming, faces formed to disgusted grimaces. “Pumpkin soup?!”

“Why do I have two children, one who has no patience and the other has the taste bud of a toddler?”, the dark-haired women groaned in response.

“Excuse me?”, you replied, pretending to be offended.

“I said what I said.”, Ingrid declared who tried her best to suppress a smile.

“Can’t you make some chicken nuggies?”, you asked your girlfriend, giving her puppy-eyes which you hoped would warm her Scandinavian heart. Often this worked out perfectly fine.

“Please, please, please.”, Mapi supported your suggestion loudly.

“Girls, seriously?”, Ingrid sighed, the defender and you knew from her sigh alone that you both had won in the question of what’s going to be for dinner.

A knocking on the door interrupted the discussion. You opened the door for Esmee and led her into the kitchen.

“Hi everyone. Ingrid, what are you cooking? Can I help you?”, the young player asked politely, peeking over the shoulder of the tall Norwegian.

“I’m making pum-…“, she started, one last attempt to get someone on her side.

“We’re having chickie nuggies!”, Mapi and you announced simultaneously.

Finally, Ingrid gave in: “Yes, we’re having chicken nuggets…“

“Thanks, love.“, you thanked her, beaming.

A small smile appeared on her face as she nudged your side: “You’re lucky I love you two so much.“

“We love you too, amor.“, Mapi replied, kissing Ingrids right cheek while you got on your tiptoes to kiss her left.

Esmee cleared her throat, making sure you hadn’t forgotten that you had a visitor.

Blushing, Ingrid pushed the two of you away and got to work.

You grinned at Esmee: “Hope you like nuggets, Esmee.“

She nodded happily, looking a bit relieved that it wasn’t pumpkin soup: “I do.“

“Then sit down while Ingrid shows us her cooking skills.“, you joked.

Ingrid rolled her eyes next to you. Of the three of you, she was definitely the best cook so making chicken nuggets was beneath her actual cooking skills.

Still, she managed to present you with a batch of perfectly crispy nuggets, a homemade dipping sauce and a bowl of fresh salad. You were all athletes after all.

“This is…“; Esmee said between two mouthfuls of salad.

“Delicious as always.“, Mapi completed the sentence for her, gleefully biting into a nugget.

Ingrid smiled across the table, seemingly happy that you all enjoyed her food: “Thank you, girls.“

“You’re the best cook.“, you agreed with the others.

“I’ll try the pumpkin soup another time though.“, the Norwegian warned you jokingly.

“I promise we’ll try it then.“, you assured her. It was only fair that she would get her pumpkin soup.

“Appreciate it.“

The food was quickly gone, leaving the table cluttered with empty dishes.

Mapi leaned back in her chair with a yawn: “Now time for a nap.“

“Thanks for the dinner, girls.“, Esmee said after she made sure that Ingrid didn’t want any help washing dishes.

“No worries, you’re always welcome here.“, you assured the young player and pulled her into a quick hug before she left.

You smiled to yourself as you closed the door behind her, you loved providing a safe space for the young players, making sure they had everything they needed even if it was just dinner.

“Y/n, Ingrid, hurry up!”, you heard Mapi call from the living room.

Ingrid left the kitchen, rolling her eyes: “That kid has no patience.“

“You still love it.“, you laughed as the two of you entered the living room where Mapi laid sprawled out on the sofa.

“Come into my arms, my loves.“, she laughed, making space for both of you on each side.

You didn’t even think twice as you launched yourself onto the sofa: “Coming!”

“All here.“, Ingrid smiled as she took the other side of the sofa.

Mapi sighed with content, wrapping one arm around each of you: “That’s how I like it.“

“Sandwiched on the sofa? We know.“, you teased her.

Ingrid chuckled lightly, reaching over Mapi and intertwined her fingers with yours: “Me too. With my two favourite children.“

With her eyes already closed, Mapi mumbled something unintelligible, already snoozing.

You cuddled closer into her side.

There was nothing better to do on your free day.

[kesujo]

You're the Light to my Shadow

As you’re heading out the café, you discover it isn’t empty.

“Hi, Seulgi.” Seulgi jumps, causing a smile to form on your face. “Finishing up some homework?”

“Hi Chanho! Yeah.”

“We’re closing and it’s getting dark, shall I walk you home?”

“Yes!” Before you can process how hastily her response is, Seulgi is already packing up her backpack. “Let me just—” She reaches for her coffee but ends up knocking it off the table instead. “Oh—” the cup clatters onto the ground, depositing its contents onto the bottom half of your pants. “—oh my god! I’m so, so, so sorry!”

You can’t help but smile at Seulgi, red-faced and profusely bowing. “Seulgi, it’s—”

“I ruined your—I-I’ll buy you new ones!”

“—fi-what? You don’t have to.”

“Are you sure?”

Your smile turns into laughter at her guilt-ridden expression. “Yes, I’m sure. Should I get you a new cup? Pumpkin cappuccino with less sugar and ice, right?”

“What? No! I couldn’t ask you to do that!”

“It’s alright, today’s batch is gonna get dumped anyway.”

Without waiting for an answer, you whisk away into the backroom, returning a minute later with a new cup of Seulgi’s drink and fresh pants.

“Oh, thank you so much!”

“No problem. Ready?”

You can tell Seulgi wants to say something, but the space you give her to say it lasts five, ten minutes. Eventually, Seulgi pipes up, “Thanks for walking me home. And, for this,” Seulgi motions to her cup.

“Don’t mention it.” You can see words starting to form on her face, but the only sounds that fill your ears are rustling of the orange-yellow leaves of the trees planted along the sidewalk and the accompanying howling wind.

One question. Nothing more.

“Something on your mind?”

When Seulgi turns to you, you can’t tell if her pink cheeks are from the cold or from her flustered state. “Um! … yeah … so, Chanho…”

The bashful way she diverts her gaze, the way her naturally-pouty lips part to allow her tongue to briefly loll out of her mouth, it takes everything in your power to resist the urge to call her ‘cute’.

“Did I make that cappuccino poorly?”

“What? No! Of course not!”

You smile at that. From the offended expression on Seulgi’s face, you may as well have called her kittens ugly. “So, Seulgi…”

At this point, her cheeks are even pinker than the hot-pink cropped T-Shirt she’s wearing. “D-Don’t tease me!”

“Sorry—”

What are you doing? After that question, nothing more. Right?

“But, u-um!” You turn back towards her. “Are—Are you and Sunmi … dating?”

Sunmi, your manager, who claimed she could handle closing by herself when you know she dreads closing shifts the most. “No.” Seeing the relief on Seulgi’s face fills your chest with dread.

This isn’t happening. Not with Seulgi.

“So, then, um … are you single?”

You almost can’t hear those last few words over the wind that threatens to whisk away her denim cropped jacket. Honestly, you wish you hadn’t.

You were being so careful, though: teetering on friendly but never flirtatious, treating her with respect but only befitting a regular customer. Where did you go wrong? And now, Seulgi: the one girl you can’t take your mind off, the one girl that threatens to upend your pact against the fairer sex you’ve upheld for the past year, the one girl you know you should’ve stayed away from but couldn’t escape from, with her magnetic, bright, bubbly personality and that luminescent smile that turned her eyes into upside-down crescents and your heart to mush.

“Yes.”

“Oh!”

A few seconds of silence hung in the air after that. In the corner of your eyes, seeing her shivering causes the urge to give her your jacket to swell—but, now, more than ever, you need to resist.

“Th-Then, then, um, do-do you want to go, um, are you free—”

“Seulgi, I’m sorry.” Seeing her face turn from shock to on-the-verge-of-tears tugs at your heartstrings. But, you have to say this. “I’m … I’m really sorry. Someone like you shouldn’t involve yourself with someone like me.”

“Wha-What?”

You can hear the tears in her voice and steel your heart. “Sunmi. I’m not dating her now, but I used to. Back in high school. Do you want to know why we broke up?” I can do this. “She caught me flirting with her friends. Plural.” This is for the better. “You might’ve thought I would’ve stopped after getting caught the first time, maybe even the second time, but I didn’t. I just kept doing it.” The thought of never seeing her again fills you with dread, but not as much as the thought that she may end up like any of your exes. “What’s worse, Sunmi forgave me. She just, she kept forgiving me and forgiving me, and every time she would, what did I do with her trust, her love?” You can feel Seulgi’s eyes on you, but you refuse to meet them. “I quashed it.” Disdain, disgust, horror—what kind of expression must she be making at you? “Not just Sunmi, either. All those women whose hearts I toyed with, not stopping even after getting hospitalized a few times by the brothers and fathers of those exes, all to satiate my own ego. That’s the kind of person I am, Seulgi. Whatever you see on the surface is just masking this ugliness underneath. I’m just a disgraceful, lonely, insecure excuse of a man who doesn’t deserve—Seulgi?”

Hearing her sniffling is what causes you to inadvertently turn your head towards her and finally get an answer to the rhetorical question you posed to yourself earlier: her eyes shimmering and the area around them red, her pouting lips pulled into a deep frown, tears freely running down her cheeks, over the fingers that are failing to contain the flood pouring out her eyes … she’s looking at you with sympathy.

“I-I’m, I’m, I’m so sorry…” You don’t respond. You’re unable to. What about that story could have possibly aroused such a reaction from her? “…it’s—it’s just, I can s-see the pain in your eyes and hear it in your voi-voice, a-and it’s just, it’s so sad to see that be-because you’ve clearly changed so much, bu-but, you look like you still can’t forgive yourself…”

The autumn chill picks up, and Seulgi shrinks in the face of it. You catch yourself midway into taking off your jacket, undoing the few steps closer your feet had taken you towards her. You remember complimenting this exact outfit on her before. Surely, Seulgi didn’t choose to wear it despite the cold weather because of that, right?

“I don’t understand.” Seulgi sniffles again and looks up at you. “How … is that your reaction to what I said?”

“W-Well, you’re being so vulnerable for me, how can I react an-any other way?”

As she finishes her sentence, another cold gust of wind assaults her, and seeing her curling up pushes you over the edge. Her health is more important than my concern over her reaction to this.

When your jacket comes over her shoulders, her eyes widen and she looks up at you again, with considerably more pink cheeks this time. “O-Oh! Thank you so much, but aren’t you going to be cold?”

“I’ll be fine.”

As the two of you trod along the leaf-ridden sidewalk, Seulgi’s sniffling dies down. “Do you remember my first time at that café?” Caught by surprise at the sudden question, you take a second to shake your head in response. “The previous night, I didn’t fully plug my phone in, so I missed my alarm and overslept. While showering, I discovered I was on my period, and even worse, my coffee machine broke. Nothing was going right that morning: I had to go back to my apartment because I had forgotten my homework first, and then my phone second, so when I saw that café on my way to class, I decided I needed at least something to push me through that morning. I remember I was double-checking my backpack when my name was called; in a rush and a complete emotional mess, when I went back to my backpack with coffee in hand, I tripped on it spilled my coffee all over you.

“I remember I was ready to cry right then and there. But, I didn’t, because your response to being drenched with a medium-sized cup full of icy-cold coffee wasn’t to be angry, but to be empathetic. You very kindly reassured me that you were ok, checked to make sure I was fine and that my backpack didn’t get wet, and then even offered to remake my coffee free of charge. For you, it was probably just another Monday and I was just another customer. For me, that day, you saved me.”

Seulgi is glowing. It’s like the universe is shining a spotlight on her: the orange sunlight mixes with the orange of the autumn leaves to create a halo effect around her entire body. Seulgi is an angel, and you are basking in her divine presence.

“It’s true that I don’t know much else about you. For five months, I couldn’t find the confidence to ask for your name, and when I finally did, you smiled and pointed at your name tag and I wanted to die right then and there.” The corners of your lips twitch. “But let me tell you what I do know: you’re kind, you’re considerate, you’re friendly, you always try your best, you show empathy and warmth to even customers who are yelling at you for something that isn’t your fault, and you always try to smile. And that’s all that matters to me.”

Did that really happen? How do you have no memory of it?

“So, please, stop beating yourself up for the mistakes you’ve made in the past. Everyone deserves a second chance, especially those who have self-reflected and are striving to be better.”

Seulgi’s very being is blinding. You’ve met women like her before—you’ve ruined women like her before—but none nearly so vibrant. You, on the other hand, are a shadow. Opposites. Never meant to be together.

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t deserve someone like you—”

“Don’t say that!” You jump at how forceful her words are. In the short few months you’ve known Seulgi, this is easily the sharpest tone you’ve ever heard her use. “Don’t just give up on yourself so easily! I don’t know how bad of a person you were in the past, but why does that still matter?”

It hurts. The more reflection you’ve done, the worse you felt. You’ve long since accepted you don’t deserve forgiveness.

“Sunmi forgave you for what you did in the past, right?” You nod. Your eyes land on the shadow the setting sun casts upon the two of you. “But it sounds like you still don’t.” You nod again. But Seulgi makes it sound so easy. Could you…? “Then, let me help. Let me show you that you’re worthy of forgiveness. Or, it doesn’t have to be me, but let someone help you.”

“But … I mean, I didn’t even mean to…”

Seulgi catches the tail end of the unspoken sentence and softly smiles. Despite the redness around her eyes and slight puffiness on her face, her smile, illuminated by the setting sun in the background, stops your heart. “But that makes all the difference, right? That you didn’t mean to?”

A shadow can’t exist without light. Maybe you aren’t opposites after all. Maybe…

“Seulgi, I think you’re wrong.”

Seulgi blinks. “What?”

“It does have to be you.” The confusion on her face slowly transforms into understanding, then of wide-eyed excitement and exuberant joy. “You’re the only one—”

You’re cut off by Seulgi suddenly throwing herself onto you. And, for the first time in a year, you give into your desires, wrapping your arms around her slim frame.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise, I’ll make it up to you!”

Last year, a particularly bad breakup kickstarted your journey of self-growth. Now, surrounded by the same beautiful array of autumn leaves, Seulgi has somehow reached into your chest and pried open the iron cage you’ve surrounded your heart with. “No, Seulgi. It’s me who needs to promise to make it up to you.”

[mandarinmoons]

Hi Kettle, I was wondering if I could request perhaps a small fluff blurb where you and Spencer get married and live happily ever after in ur dream house. No pressure xoxoxoxo

You know I'm not one for writing something too self indulgent, but I could never pass up a request from you sweetheart hehe. Not exactly written as per request, but I think it's cute and that's all that matters x

“Hold on, I got it!”

Spencer grabbed the box out of your arms after you not even holding it for five seconds. You weren’t the strongest person, sure, but you were able to lift a few pounds, or twenty.

“Spencer, I can handle it. I’m not going to crack like a piece of China.”

“That might be true, but you definitely need to be handled with care as if you were a piece of fine porcelain.”

A chuckle left your lips as Spencer pressed a kiss to your cheek and strode off as he took a box of kitchen ware to the correct place.

A cool breeze brushed over your skin and you went to close the ajar patio door, but the sight of falling colorful leaves invited you to step outside and admire the beauty. Fall was your favorite season and no one was going to stop you from taking a moment to enjoy it.

Walking out and breathing in the crisp morning air felt satisfying beyond words. Spring is usually the time of year for people to start anew and get a fresh start, but for you, that feeling crept up during the last few weeks of summer. Relieved didn’t even begin to describe how you felt when your skin didn’t feel as clammy anymore due to the sweat brought on by the summer sun and as you packed away the swimsuits and made room again for the cozy sweaters.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand snaked around your waist and were brought against their chest, but feeling the familiar sensation of nuzzling against your hair made you keenly aware who the person was and accepted the sweet gesture.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Just how perfect everything seems.”

“I second that thought.”

Spencer’s thumbs caressed your side as you both took in the sight in front of you. Piles of red, orange and yellow foliage gathered around the backyard and in the distance you saw squirrels gathering up all the acorns they could find. All the greenery around you seemed to be wilting, but you found comfort in the fact that in due time it would bloom all over again.

“Do you want to go in and have some tea?”

“In a moment, I want to savor the feeling just a little bit longer.”

“Aren’t you cold though?”

You chuckled as you turned your head to look at the man behind you. His cheeks were already tinted pink from the cold, meanwhile you hadn’t felt a chill go down your spine since he took you in his embrace.

“As long as I’m in your arms I could never be cold.”

Spencer nuzzled his face into your hair more, leaving a trail of light kisses behind, “Good to know I’m doing my job well.”

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Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[ferrstappen]

happy mother's day, sorry for the mess l Max Verstappen blurb

a/n: Charles' version will be posted shortly <3

pairing: dad!Max Verstappen x female reader

you can read more of dad Max and the twins here <3

summary: Mila and Luca Verstappen go rogue during Mother's Day, ignoring Max's plan.

Max sighed after putting Mila and Luca to sleep, both too excited to celebrate their mum in just a few hours, after spending weeks planning and buying gifts for you.

The living room was neatly decorated with yellow and purple balloons, the twins' favorite colors. Max had multiple red and white roses delivered. Of course that wasn't enough, the three of them had gone shopping for gifts, Max not caring about it being too much and the twins not having to think whether it was or wasn't expensive; whatever reminded them of you, it was bought.

Max knew you didn't really care about the Dior handbag, a long parka from Moncler, maybe you'd like the Cartier bracelet, but only because it was engraved with Mila, Luca and Max's name and date, but they could've had a cheap fake gold bracelet from Aliexpress and you would've loved it just the same because it had their names on it.

You'd also love the assortment of chocolates that would' probably be gone by today's afternoon. It was a situation Max knew too well ever since you started dating. Max was taught by his mother and sister that classics were classics for a reason, never failing to gift you a large box of chocolates on Valentine's Day.

He remembers vividly your first Valentine's, enjoying quiet time on his apartment not really bothering to go outside, wanting to kiss and touch as much as you wanted in the early stages of the relationship, not having to care about people taking pictures, fans approaching Max for a conversation or autograph, the only thing both of you needed was being next to each other. His memory is clear when picturing you wearing one of his shirts after he left the bathroom, the box of chocolates lying next to you and he opened it, suddenly craving a dulce de leche filled chocolate.

It was empty.

Max was surprised that you were able to eat the entire box during the day, but then he learned it was a common occurrence, but he still pretended to get surprised whenever the box didn't survive past midnight.

Maybe he was dreaming, the early stages of your relationship always brought a smile to his face and was the stuff of his dreams all these years later, but he was aware of his surroundings now. This wasn't his old apartment that he after shared with you, this was the penthouse you got after getting married.

And whatever was coming from the kitchen, wasn't your doing since your warm body was perfectly curved against Max; your back pressed against his back, bottom moving against him as you tried to get comfortable after he moved, Max's hand resting dangerously low on your stomach and legs intertwined.

This was one of the few times he rolled his eyes at Mila and Luca, already knowing they were up to something, absolutely not in their room. He was hoping he would get the chance to celebrate and cherish you before the kids had the chance to interrumpt.

Oh well.

Rubbing his eyes and dragging his feet Max followed the shushed voices, English and Dutch mixing as Mila reprimanded her twin for bringing jam instead of Nutella, but Luca responded 'mama prefers jam in the morning, Mila'.

Max crossed his arms, this not being the first time the twins decided to get started with breakfast. They didn't care that Max tirelessly reminded them that he would wake them up and prepare breakfast for you.

"What happened with the plan?" Max asked and noticed how the twins stopped their movements, carefully and slowly turning around to face their dad. "M, any reason why there's a puddle of orange juice right next to you? Lu, do you know why all those tea leaves are scattered on the sink?"

To make matters worse, a panicked Luca dropped the glass he was carrying, the sound booming around the penthouse.

Max asked his son if he was okay at the same time Mila told her brother he was an idiot.

they all failed to hear the hurried steps coming towards the kitchen. Your eyes were met with your barefoot husband tiptoeing around the glass as he told the kids to not come near.

"What happened?" You asked and this time, it wasn't just the twins who ceased their movements and slowly turned their backs to you. this time they were joined by Max.

Silence filled the room as you were still waiting for an answer for the small mess on the kitchen.

The three Verstappen clones looked at each other, mentally planning on what to say next.

"Happy mother's day!"

[respectthepetty]

The Loyal Pin - Episode 2

I have no idea what I am doing with this space each week. Am I thinking thoughts? Am I recapping the episode? Am I getting anxiety that I'll have to be more selective with the images I use since I'm only allowed thirty yet every second of this show is color-coded? Am I lusting after Pin and my girl Prik? All of the above?! Once again, I have no idea, so let me just get this post started at the beginning with Pin being the saddest Pink Person and cutting all the mangoes within 50 miles because her girlfriend is leaving.

The Blue Beauty Anin sends her loyal and trusty sidekick Prik to keep her girlfriend company while she is busy preparing for her move.

Because she knows no mangoes are safe and apparently papayas too! And while we get a flashback, we see that Pin is wearing blue ribbons in her hair because even if she can't put words to it, she's been in love with her Blue Beauty for a long time.

Probably before she even knew the word "love"

So while Anin is busy making arrangements with her color-coded brother,

Pin is haunting the halls already grieving her loss

Refusing to acknowledge that Anin is leaving (same girl, same)

Losing her appetite (and will to live), which her color-coded mother picks up on

And crushing Prik's spirit with the realization that Anin will be abroad for SEVEN DAMN YEARS!

Basically, Pin is in her sad girl era as she holds Anin's handkerchief and cries into her pillow.

But thankfully Prik acts like a ghost and snitches to her Blue Beauty Boss that their Pink Person is turning into Britney Spear's 2000 classic "Lucky" since "she cry, cry, cries in her lonely heart, thinking 'if there's nothing missing in my life then why do these tears come at night?'"

So Anin, in true Blue Beauty, fashion decides to make her girl happy by making food with her and eating it . . . alone since Pin still isn't eating.

And takes up every single waking moment of Pin's time.

They even celebrate Loy Krathong together, but the mood turns sad once Pin finally vocalizes that Anin is leaving FOR SEVEN DAMN YEARS!

So it's time for Anin to leave, and she says goodbye to her color-coded girlfriend and her color-coded aunt.

Oh, and her color-coded brothers!

But she immediately gets to writing her girl because if a letter is late, according to Prik, Pin is painting her nails black and listening to My Chemical Romance's "Ghost of You" on repeat until the letter arrives. Same girl, same.

However, Pin can read between the lines, and even though Anin is saying she is happy and writing about other friends (Anin knows other women?! Not in this sapphic love story she don't!),

Pin knows Anin is not happy and can see the teardrops on the letter as clear as day because they are the same album, but different songs. Alexa, play My Chemical Romance's "I'm Not Okay"!

Fuck it! Just play all of Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge! I'M in my emo feels!

But their SEVEN DAMN YEAR separation is coming to in end which we can tell because their hairstyles have changed, and our Blue Beauty has a plan up her sleeve!

Sidenote: The snow globe on her desk has one character in green and blue and the other is in red and pink. It's them!

But back to the plan! Now that Anin is graduating, she triple-checks with her color-coded family that the highly esteemed prince who just happens to be her dad is going to keep his promise of giving her anything she wants.

Because this bad (blue) bitch is getting the custom-made house she promised her girl! Sis secured the bag!

And Pin is proud as hell of her smarty-pants skirt (since the clothing is historical accurate?).

But as proud as she is of her, in the middle of a room filled with pink, blue, and purple (!!!!) flowers, she looks shocked to see her Blue Beauty right in front of her when the episode ends.

Anin is just full of surprises like appearing out of nowhere and coming back queerer than when she left. Good for her!

Bonus: Anin's mom is a Yellow/Orange Oddity, and I think as the girls continue to age, they will inherit more of their moms' colors into their wardrobes because of generational trauma, gender norms, and whatnot until they break against tradition and be gay do crime each other.

But either way, me and my huge emo album collection will be here doing whatever this is all season!

[lovebugism]

hi bug! could I request a fall back to school blurb with eddie and shy!reader, where he sticks up for reader in school against a bully? I love hurt/comforts!

ty for requesting lovely! this is sort of a part 2 for this drabble, but can be read as a stand-alone fic!! — eddie has a talk with jason when he finds out he's been messing with you again (mentions of bullying, hurt/comfort, established relationship, 1.7k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie picks red and orange leaves from your hair. His touch is perfectly gentle despite the red-hot rage burning houses behind his ribcage. 

You’re a shaken-up mess in the back of his van. He knows Jason did something to you — you just won’t tell him what.

He pries, anyway, though, trying his best to keep a nonchalant air about him so you don’t shut down completely. Outside the open trunk, he stands in between your legs and takes care of you. It feels like human nature to do both.

“What happened, babe?” Eddie wonders with a forced laugh, plucking a brown stem from the crown of your head. He flicks it to the pavement below you. “Did he, like, trip you into a pile of leaves or something?”

He’s smiling so sweetly at you, but you know he’ll flip if you’re honest. 

You purse your lips to the side and shake your head, turning your glassy eyes to your swaying feet. 

“No, he…” you start, then exhale a trembling sigh. 

You don’t want to lie, but you don’t want to make it seem as scary as it feels. You twist your hands in your lap and ramble in a quiet confession. “I was walking to our picnic table to study, and he snuck up behind me, and I had my walkman on so I couldn’t hear him, and… I’m just— I’m just a baby, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

Eddie’s brows pinch as his face twists in something short of confusion. “Uh, yeah. It is,” he monotones, then scoffs out a laugh. “Honestly, I thought he knew better than to mess with you after what happened last time.”

He��s talking about that evening at the arcade — the last time you had the utter displeasure of running into the douchebag of Hawkins High. The whole “the only shooting Jason Carver does is into a kleenex” thing from when summer still felt like summer. 

Everything’s grayer now. And colder. 

You feel a lot of the same. 

You shoot Eddie a half-hearted glare at the memory he won’t let you live down. He meets it with a crooked, pink grin — your own personal sunshine when the real thing is hidden behind thick clouds. You melt for him all over again like you always do, feeling like a child as he plucks pieces of dead leaves from your hair.

“There,” he announces as he untangles a sizable yellow leaf from the strands. It floats down to his dirty sneakers. He cups your jaw in his abnormally warm hands and gives you one more once over. “I think that’s all of ‘em, babe.”

“Yeah?” you ask, just to be sure, as you smooth your palm over the back of your hair.

“Yep. You’re good as new. Beautiful like always.”

You roll your eyes with a poorly hidden smile. You’ve been together too long for him to flirt with you like he does. You wonder if he’ll ever stop, or if he’ll treat every day with you like it’s the very first.

“Always a charmer, huh?” you hum with a lovesick grin.

“For you,” the boy croons, leaning closer so he can press a kiss to your mouth. His rosy lips smack audibly against yours in a chaste peck that leaves you grieving the moment he’s gone.

The worn heel of Eddie’s sneakers scuff against the rocky concrete of the parking lot when he parts from you. He goes without a word. You watch him with a gaping look of bemusement.

“What— Where are you going?” you call to him, trying ignore the melodramatic twisting of your stomach. 

You’d already missed class — too shaken after seeing Jason and too needy for Eddie. You thought he might keep you company until next period. God knows he’ll take any excuse to ditch Mr. Kaminsky’s chem class.

Eddie turns back around to look at you but doesn’t stop inching towards the entrance. He shrugs his leather-clad shoulders with a cheeky grin. “Oh. You know. Just got regular business to attend to.”

You deflate. Regular business for Eddie Munson often means complete and utter chaos. 

“Don’t do anything stupid… Please.”

“Me?” Eddie scoffs, bringing a hand to his chest as though you’ve wounded him in some way. “Of course not!”

—————

Eddie roams the vacant halls of Hawkins High with his hands balled into fists. He’s got no intention of using them for evil — Yoda always said to use the Force for knowledge and defense, never for attack. They more so shake with the withheld fury of not being able to avenge you. 

What kinda boyfriend would be if some douchebag was fucking with his girl and he just let it happen?

Then he finds Jason in the empty corridor of the west wing. He comes out of the bathroom in all his muscled glory, dressed in baggy sweatpants and a too-fitted tank top, and it feels sort of kismet. 

If fate didn’t want Eddie to do something, fate wouldn’t have put the douchebag directly in his way, right?

“Hey, Jason!” Eddie lilts in a tone so chipper it has to be sarcasm. “What are you doing down here?”

Jason meets the boy’s wide grin with a look of bitter confusion. “None of your business, freak,” he bites in response, walking past the wild-haired brunette as though he wasn’t there at all.

“I beg to differ, tough guy.” The nickname spills from his mouth, coated in venom. “Everything you do became my business when you started messing with my girl.”

Jason’s gruff laughter fills the vacant hallway. He turns back around, flashing a pearly-white smile. “Wallflower’s still with you, huh?” he singsongs, then shrugs sympathetically. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little surprised to hear that.”

“Yeah. She is, actually,” Eddie nods with a beam. “As a matter of fact, we just went on a double date with Steve and Chrissy. Harrington told me to say hi, by the way.”

The blonde boy goes suddenly grim at the mention of the girl who got away. His thin-lipped smile ebbs into a frown. His chiseled features sharpen when his jaw clenches. “Watch it, freak.”

Those words stopped being threatening the first time he said them. After the millionth or more, it just got redundant. 

Eddie huffs, impatient and annoyed. 

“Alright. Here’s how this is gonna go, okay? Seeing as you’re a little toodense to listen when my girl told you to leave us alone, I’m gonna spell it out for you,” he monotones, inching towards the boy with his hands on his hips. “Either keep messing with us, and I crack that pretty face of yours, or you can leave to be a douchebag with a nice jawline another day… How’s that sound?”

A beat passes. 

A laugh sputters from Jason’s mouth a second later. 

Apparently, he finds Eddie’s newfound confidence as strange as it feels. He might be a loudmouth sometimes, but he’s certainly no fighter. And even though he knows this just as well as the next person, the anger of not being taken seriously stings like a searing knife in his chest.

“Oh, and I have razor blades hidden in my hair, by the way,” Eddie monotones, using his freakazoid reputation to his advantage. He smiles when Jason goes somber. “Yep. Mm-hmm. All up in there—”

“You’re fucking crazy, man,” the blonde boy scoffs, choosing not to call his bluff and walking away entirely.

Eddie waits until Jason turns the corner to let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. It trembles on the way out, forced through a tightening chest. He wipes his sweaty palms on his black ripped jeans — not a fighter, indeed.

“Razor blades?” a familiar voice calls from a little ways down the hall, accompanied by a soft giggle that sounds like heaven.

Eddie lifts his head and finds you walking towards him — turning the opposite corner that Jason had just left from. Your hands are tucked into the sleeves of the sweater that swallows you whole. You wrap your arms around yourself, making yourself as small as possible yet taking every ounce of his attention just the same.

With furrowed brows, his gaze darts between you and the empty corridor. “How did you…?” he asks, then trails off with a laugh. “I didn’t even know you were here.”

“I’m Wallflower, remember?” you grin, wearing the name people use to taunt you like armor. “I’m basically the queen of hiding in plain sight.”

“Yeah?” Eddie hums with a smirk. His smile widens when you inch closer to him.

You shrug. “It’s just a superpower. No big deal.”

His fingers curl around the outsides of your elbows when you’re standing toe-to-toe. His touch is warm and firm, but still gentle as he squeezes you. He rubs at your arms with his thumbs. 

“So…” he singsongs and tilts his head to the side, making his wild curls bunch at his shoulders. His chocolate eyes dance with sincerity and amusement. “What’d ya think?”

“I think you were very brave,” you answer honestly, but with an inflection that sounds like you’re teasing him.

Eddie’s gaze narrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, Eds… You’re a nerd who plays D&D for twelve hours straight, and Jason lifts weights in his spare time.”

“You don’t think I could take him?”

“I know you couldn’t,” you retort, too sincerely for his liking. 

The sting in his chest ebbs when you uncurl your arms to splay your palms over his collarbones. Your smile sparkles, quite like the twinkle in your eye. 

“But you’d try. For me. And I, for one, think that’s very brave of you, Ser Munson.”

You’re right. About all of it. 

Eddie would fight for your honor like it was one of his Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. And he’d lose — quite miserably, probably — because what Jason Carver lacks in brains, he makes up twice in muscle. But you’d patch him up after, and it’d be worth it.

Instead of saying all that and stooping down to the sap you are, Eddie deflects with a joke. “Ooh,” he croons lowly. “Ser Munson, huh? I like the sound of that… We should save that one for later.”

You swat at him, but your softness lingers.

Eddie’s boyish laughter fills the vacant halls. His smile is too pretty not to kiss.

[amywritesthings]

Hi! Hi! Hi! It’s the Floch friend again. I missed Levi and SU reader so much!!! They live rent free in the back of my head and I always miss them, I don know how you do it. I’ve already said a million times how I love your writing, but it always scratches the right part of my brain and I can’t stop rereading everything.

As for the Hallosleepover, I have a couple of prompts, you can choose either of them (or none, if you don’t feel like it). For Levi x SUreader - their first fall on the surface, and for Levi x P4reader - “when they instinctively put a protective arm out to protect the other when an actor tries to jump out and scare them” (a prompt from the second list).

Hope you had a nice week ❤️

hallo-sleepover '24! / accepting.

floch friend, hello my love! gosh you are always so lovely, i swear. you are the best. i would be delighted to give you a lil First Fall for our fearless duo

first fall.

pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader word count: 860 tags: big fluff vibes, changing of the season, mentions of the underground city, set in the flackbacks and universe of silver underground. credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

Colors.

The trees change colors on the surface.

Levi’s busy fixing his carat in the freshly-cleaned mirror in the corner of the room while you button your ivory pants. Now that you’ve both been on the surface — him for four months, you for two — you’ve settled into a new routine similar to the one you abandoned below the surface.

After living a lifetime there, you’re both used to working in pure darkness. It gives you precious time to be in one another’s presence before you have to slip back across the hallway and into your quarters to pretend yet another day.

The day is still young; dawn fast approaches from its kiss goodnight.

As the sun creeps across the horizon, your eyes see the flutter outside Levi’s open window. 

Your chin turns to observe absently, but then the world stops.

Leaves.

Red leaves.

(It’s almost the start of autumn, Petra had told you at dinner not long ago. A new season. It’s beautiful this time of year.)

“James?” you hear from the side; Levi’s voice, gruff from the morning still.

Dropping your leather leg straps to the floor, you abandon dressing in proper attire for a chance to sprint out of his captain’s quarters towards the front door of headquarters. 

The wooden door slams against stone, reverberating down the hallway. 

The sound may wake up half of the squad from their slumber. 

You don’t care.

Ever since the two of you managed to survive the underground with bared teeth and taut fists, it’s been tough to simply be. The Survey Corps are by no means gentle — people die just as often as those who were once your neighbors — but the surface dwellers have no idea of the luxuries they take for granted.

Down there, the gentle caress of the breeze does not exist. Down there, warmth can only be found in another body and not the sky.

There are no trees, no trunks, no leaves. There are no changing skies.

But up here?

Everything lives and dies and lives again. Everything has an order, turning brilliant colors in the blink of an eye. Slowly the humid summer air flutters into a crisp chill. 

The start of autumn.

Boots skid against the floor as you rush towards the front entrance. You scoot through a sliver of an opening to find yourself outdoors — surrounded by a sea of brilliant vibrance. The trees that were once a staunch green have now faded into a cacophony of colors: oranges, yellows, reds.

No two trees are alike.

“The hell’d you run out for?”

Hearing the baritone sound behind you, your wide eyes find Levi following out right behind you. His hands are still fussing with the carat at the base of his throat, jacket abandoned.

Then he pauses.

Sees, what you see.

“The trees are finally changing. I saw it from your window and had to see it for myself,” you exhale with a childlike wonder, unable to contain your excitement. 

With Levi you don’t have to — just like the changing of the seasons, he knows just about every version of you; every color. You’re allowed to 

“Is this what Petra was talking about?” he asks, leaves crunching under the heel of his boot as he moves to stand beside you. “Autumn or whatever?”

“I think so. She called it a season. I think she said there’s four of them?”

“What was the last one?”

Sticking out a tongue as you concentrate for a moment, the word comes to you a beat later. “I’m pretty sure it was called summer.”

“Hm.”

“I can’t believe they’re all different,” you murmur, pointing one out in particular: its leaves are only just beginning to fade into a new color, causing it to stand out. “Look.”

“I see it.”

His statement isn’t said with annoyance but amusement.

When you turn to him, Levi isn’t looking at the trees. He’s staring at you, as if he’s more interested in witnessing your reaction to something so new and beautiful than living in it for himself.

“Well don’t stare at me.”

“I’m not.”

“Liar.”

His eyes narrow with a fraction of amusement before blinking back to the trees. “Petra also said it will snow up here in the later months.”

“Snow?” you repeat. “What’s that?”

“Got no clue,” Levi admits, choosing to be honest in this private moment with you. If it were anyone else, he’d have a smartass remark. It’s too early for that. “Was hoping you’d know.”

Snow.

You wonder what they call the changing colors, if they have a name as foreign as snow.

Reaching for his hand, Levi does little to dissuade you as you pull him towards one of the adolescent trees to the east by the stables. When you reach to run a fingertip along one of the low-hanging crimson leaves, he squeezes your joined hands.

“Guess we’ll see it together,” he adds.

A promise.

To see everything, anything, together.

(A promise once made in eternal night, now carried into the light. I won't go far from you.)

Nodding, you squeeze his hand back.

“Yeah. Together.”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

good morning!! it's @henderdads' birthday!!!! happy happy happy birthday to youuuu cass!!!

The minute Eddie Munson turned 18, he could see it; the only color he would see until he and his soulmate kissed for the first time.

Yellow.

Rays and rays of warm yellow sunshine, the middle light (and middle light only) of the one stoplight in town, one half of their school colors, the dandelions spotted agross the grass between the trailers, the stubborn daffodils that keep reappearing in Ms. Wilson’s garden though she’s long since passed…

The half-toned things he’s told are green, half yellow, half blue, and that he got lucky his soulmate’s favorite color wasn’t black or gray (then he felt glad he’d settled on a different color than either of those by time he was older, he didn’t want to subject his soulmate to more black and white..

After Steve Harrington turns 18, he can see the color of the lipstick his mom wore in their last family portrait, the color of the punch that gets spilled all over Nancy’s shirt at Tina’s halloween party, the stripes and piping on his godforsaken Scoops uniform, the red of his own blood rushing down the drain beneath his feet.

The dark tone puddled beneath Eddie’s limp body in the Upside Down.

The same color splashed onto Dustin’s arms and legs.

Pressing his hands into it to stop it from spreading, to start it flowing again, Steve presses his lips to Eddie’s once…he hasn’t done CPR since he worked at the pool….twice…”C’mon man, don’t leave him like this.”....

The third time is when it happens.

The feeble beat of Eddie’s heart starting again, the push of breath into his lungs, the sudden flood of cool, dark colors around them. 

“Eddie? Eddie! C’mon man, stay with me.”

It looks like it takes a herculean effort to do so, but Eddie’s eyes open. “H–hey, Harrington. Wh–”

“I’m going to pick you up now, Ed,” Steve says, doing just that, tucking Eddie into his chest and starting for the trailer. “El is keeping the gate open for us but we gotta hurry.”

The four of them manage to get him out through the gate and into the RV, this time with Nancy behind the wheel. 

Having to let him go at the doors to the ER is one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, but he manages, Robin telling him over and over again that she’d already called Eddie’s Uncle and that he’d be safe.

While they’re waiting, filthy and exhausted but victorious nonetheless, Nancy says to him: “It’s blue, by the way. The…everything down there has some sort of blue tinge to it.”

Steve doesn’t ask how she knew, just appreciates that he can look at something and she’ll tell him the name of the color. 

The pattern of the chairs is orange and purple, the plant in the corner is green (“All plants are some shade of it for the most part.”), the wallpaper is his favorite though.

“It’s yellow.”

“I guess I know what color Eddie’s been seeing the past few years..” It’s the first and last thing he says until Wayne Munson comes to get them.

“You three need’ta be looked at too. Not jus’ Henderson.”

He leads them back to a room, and Steve recognizes Dr. Owens there waiting for them.

They get looked over, they get cleaned up, and Steve gets a shot of something that’s supposed to help stave off anything those flying rats may have given him.

And for the next week, he stays. 

He and Wayne maintain a constant vigil at Eddie’s bedside. Wayne leaves for his shifts when he has to, Steve is allowed to stay because of his soulmate status, and Eddie wakes up a little more than a week later.

Wayne had left a couple hours ago, so Steve will have to call him at the plant but first: “Steve?” Eddie manages to croak out when his eyes crack open the first time.

“Hey Eds, welcome back to the world of the living.”

Eddie shuts his eyes and huffs a laugh, then cringes, “Still painful as always, I see.”

“Oh yeah? What else do you see?”

Steve watches his brow furrow as he tries to make sense of the question, watches as he opens his eyes again, a bit further this time, and when they widen in amazement as they travel around the room.

“What–? What the hell..?” The heightened beeping of his heart monitor makes Steve feel almost giddy, getting to watch him see this for the first time. “What nurse kissed me while I was out?” He pauses, staring down a painting of colorful wildflowers on the opposite wall before turning back to Steve. “And can they come back so I can get more pain meds?”

Steve chuckles as he stands stiffly from the hospital chair he’d been all but glued to for the last week, reaching over Eddie’s head to press the call button.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, of course.”

“Thank you, I try, but what’d I do this time?”

“It wasn’t a nurse, Eds.”

Eddie blinks at him for a moment, confused, “I don’t quite have the brainpower for riddles, Stevie.”

Steve’s stomach flips at the nickname, “It wasn’t a nurse, it was when we were still in the—down there.” he pauses, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Did Eddie want it to be him? His first assumption was one of the nurses… “Someone had to give you CPR.”

He watches as Eddie scrolls through what he can only assume is a roster of their “Team Vecna”; Nancy? It’s been known that she’s been able to see in full color since she and Jonathan got together. Dustin? Yeah..no. Ro–

“And it wasn’t Robin.” Steve says when he sees Eddie’s lips curl into an ‘R’.

“Then who—”

It dawns on him at the same time the summoned nurse arrives with a new shot of whatever it is he needs.

She leaves with an excited “We’ll call Wayne!”, and Eddie drops his head back to his pillow.

Steve’s stomach twists anxiously. “Eddie?”

“So you’re telling me that the one and only Steve Harrington gave me the kiss of life and also the gift of colorvision, and I wasn’t conscious enough to experience it properly?”

Steve ducks his head, scratching behind his ear nervously. “Uh…yeah…? Sorry Eddi–”

“Can you do it again?”

His head snaps up again, “Huh?”

“And preferably before I lose the battle for my consciousness?”

Eddie’s face is soft and open, a smile quirking the pink of his lips and crinkling those dark eyes of his…Who is Steve to tell him no?

He smiles softly in return and stands.

Leaning forward with his weight braced to one side of Eddie’s head, the other hand coming up to cup his uninjured cheek, Steve kisses him properly for the first time.

The first of many many many more to come.

eeee i hope you liked this little thing!!! i've never written anything w soulmates before!! 🥹 i hope you have the most bestest day today, friend!! 🫶🫶

[otakusheep15]

Flufftober Day 11 - Leaves

Content includes: Floyd x reader, written as romantic but can be read as platonic, Floyd being Floyd, Crowley being Crowley

Fall at NRC is truly a beautiful experience. It’s cold but not overly chilly, the surrounding animals are preparing for the coming winter, and the trees have turned the most wonderful shades of red, orange, and yellow. 

Many of the leaves have already begun to fall to the ground, creating piles and piles all over campus. 

Piles you, of course, were put in charge of cleaning up. 

Once again, Crowley had decided that it was now your responsibility to rake up as many leaves as possible. Despite your many, many complaints, he turned a blind eye, reminding you of how fortunate you are to even have housing on campus and how generous he is, etc. etc. 

So, here you are, early in the morning, raking all of the pretty leaves. 

Grim had opted out of coming with you, but you didn’t mind. You knew he would only get in the way, so you didn’t push the issue at all. 

Surprisingly, this chore isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. The air is cool, no one is around since it’s still early, and the scenery is so pretty. In a strange way, it’s almost relaxing. 

That is, until you hear a very familiar voice shouting a very familiar nickname. 

“Shrimpy!” Floyd comes barreling up to you, and before you have time to stop him, he immediately flops into the giant piles of leaves you worked so hard on sweeping up. 

Bursts of red, orange, and yellow fly in every direction as you stare in a mixture of annoyance and horror. All of your hard work, down the drain in an instant. 

Floyd reammerges from the remainder of the pile, laughing like he has no worries in the world. You doubt he does, based on how carefree he usually is. 

You scold him as he stands up, but that doesn’t seem to spoil his mood for even a minute. Instead, he grabs you by the arm and drags you over the (now much smaller) pile, tossing you in before jumping down next to you. 

He continues to giggle with joy as you lie there, already dreading how much extra work you’re gonna have to do to make up for the mess he made. 

“Little Shrimpy, you work too much. You should relax for once.” He looks over to you, grinning like he didn’t just throw you into a pile of leaves. 

You stare back at him, deadpanned, reminding him that you don’t want to work this much. It’s not your fault Crowley constantly forces his work on you. 

Floyd stares back, his grin widening, fully showing off his razor sharp teeth. “I could always go squeeze ‘em if you want.” 

That manages to get a laugh out of you at least, and you gently nudge Floyd in the shoulder. You tell him that, no, he can’t go and squeeze the principal. That would only cause more problems for you in the long run, you’re sure. 

The two of you lay there for a moment, and you can feel yourself start to relax a bit. You can feel Floyd shift beside you, then an arm wrapping around your waist. When you look at him again, Floyd is resting on his side, looking at you with the most affection you’ve ever seen from him. 

You shift closer to him, enjoying the extra warmth his figure provides you. 

Maybe the leaves can wait just a bit longer.

[maknaesdancersrappers]

devoted 2.

part 17.

SNEAK PEEK

A/N: the deadline was supposed to be today but there's just too much going on, so as my birthday treat to you guys, here's a cute lil excerpt from the next part!!

“Let’s go.”

You’ve walked beside Jaehyun multiple times already but this time you’re walking hand in hand with him — and he’s even swaying your conjoined hands! You were screaming inside at how cute he was to do this. He gave off such a cool vibe that you didn’t think he had such an adorable side.

Autumn has started and the weather was perfect to be outside, the leaves were turning to beautiful shades of reds, oranges, and yellows. It was nice to take a stroll under them right now and it feels quite cozy, especially with Jaehyun.

He filled up the silence growing between you, not that it bothered you, with small talk. He asked about your morning and the day before, if you had any plans for the holiday break. You told him that you were going back home to your parents over the holidays and was unsure if your parents had plans to celebrate.

You could feel his thumb gently smooth over your skin as he talked about his plans over the break, mentioning how he’s going to be helping out his dad in his business.

The cafe you both arrived at was smack dab in between a bookstore and a mom-and-pop store. There were little to no patrons in the cafe from the looks of it and it still had some streamers and balloons from their opening.

“Good morning! Welcome to Cafe Hue.” One of the three workers on duty, the cashier, greeted as you entered.

You offered a smile and glanced briefly at the interior — a habit you picked up in middle school that pushed you into taking interior design. For its namesake, the overall interior was a crisp white with loud, brightly colored decors dotting the shelves. There was room for improvement with the choice of furniture, but it still works.

“What would you like?” Jaehyun asked, pulling you out of your reverie by softly squeezing your hand.

You looked up at the chalkboard menu, giving each item a thought until you settled on a hot cup of French vanilla tea. Jaehyun relayed your order to the cashier, who’s eyes seemed very eager to meet his gaze, and added his own order of an iced americano.

“Do you want anything to eat? We can share something if you’d like.”

“I don’t mind a slice of cake or muffin.”

Jaehyun bobbed his head, “Anything in particular?”

“What would you recommend?” You directed the question to the cashier giving heart eyes up at Jaehyun. She shifted her attention to you, a full second of annoyance flashing in her face before plastering a model customer service smile.

“Everything is freshly baked, our baker’s favorite is the basque cheesecake, but personally, I love the chocolate carrot cake.”

“Both sound good, so I’ll leave the choice up to you.”

The cashier’s smile brightened as she returned her attention to Jaehyun, who seemed oblivious to it.

“Then a slice of each.” He didn't wait for her to tally the order and pulled out his wallet, brandishing a black card from within and placing it on the counter. She seemed astonished to see the card in front of her, but it only took a second for her to punch your orders in while repeating it out loud to confirm. Jaehyun nodded and she swiped the card.

“Have you always been a tea person? I could have gotten you tea instead of coffee all this time at the library.” He inquired, pursing his lips ever so slightly at you.

“Not necessarily.” You shrugged your shoulders, “My mind has strongly associated coffee with productivity and since we’re not here to study, I’d rather have tea. I like both, equally.”

Jaehyun finished paying for the order and guided you to a seat by the window. He helped you into your seat briefly before seating himself.

There was a palpable pause when he looked at you and it almost became awkward until he coughed and glanced away, ears visibly red.

“I’m sorry,” He cleared his throat, “I’ve never really… taken anyone out on a date before.”

The admission made your brows shoot up a little, “What? You’ve never dated anyone?”

He shook his head, “No. Wasn’t really interested… until I met you.”

The confession made your heart skip a beat and the faintest heat rose up your cheeks. “Oh. Uhm,” You stuttered, “I… I didn’t expect that from you.”

He sighed, “I get that a lot — not to be vain or anything. I was just never interested in the dating scene.”

“Haven’t girls asked you out? None of them caught your eye?”

Jaehyun shook his head again. “They all seemed… pretentious? No, too eager? Like I’m prey or something.”

You’re still having a hard time believing that this gorgeous man has not dated at all — let alone having you as the first person he’s ever expressed interest in. “What makes me different?”

Slowly, a small smile formed on his lips, “That’s what I’d like to know.”

a/n: there's too much technical stuff in the next part, that's why i'm having a hard time writing, but!!! it's coming i swear pls dont give up on me im sorry for such the long wait (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

devoted masterlist.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Eris x Reader | Warming You

type: fluff warning(s): non-sexual nudity word count: 1,5k words summary: after returning from the Winter Court, Eris helps you warm up again

- all rights reserved -

Eris’ heart is rapidly beating in his chest. He is pacing in his study, his gaze straying to the window behind his desk, frost spiderwebbed across it. It is cold, a very cold autumn day, but not nearly as cold as it gets in the Winter Court. The Winter Court, the coldest place in all of Prythian and the place where you currently are. The place you should have left hours ago, but you haven’t returned. Still haven’t come home to your mate. To say he is nervous would be an understatement. His heartbeat increases, his palms turning clammy from the sweat that comes with the rising fear. Where the hell are you?

Eris does not want to over-react, does not want to freak out, but when it comes to his mate, to his High Lady, that alarm bells start ringing much earlier than any other time. He is a nervous wreck whenever you are gone for too long, because, even though he still feels you through the bond, danger is lurking around every corner, just getting read to strike. It is this uncertainty, this unpredictability about what could maybe happen when you go on a mission for him, that makes him lose his mind. Eris nervously taps his index finger against his thigh, inhaling a deep breath. His hand comes up, he brushes it through his hair, removing the leather strap, and untangles his silken strands. Then he brushes his hand through his hair once again and releases a low groan of frustration. He is only going to wait a little longer and then he will leave…leave for the Winter Court, or he might flip. 

Eris walks up to the window, his hands braced on the cold window sill. The wind is howling outside, blowing leaves in all the colours of autumn around in the air and scattering them across the floor. He can hardly make out the colours and shades of orange, red and yellow because the sun has nearly fully set and darkness and night start to fall over the land. It is becoming night not only in the Autumn Court — in every court by now. And being outside, a this time, in the Winter Court is lethal. You are dressed well, but your body not made for the low temperature. Eris does not let himself think further about that, he closes his eyes for a brief moment, inhales a breath and slowly blinks his eyes open again. He squints, his gaze narrowing in on movement in the distance. 

Luckily it is then that the gates on the east side of the estate start to open and once glimpse at the figure staggering into the court yard is enough to calm his heart a little. He swiftly turns on his heels, dashing out of his study, heading for the foyer to wait for you there. Almost like winnowing he runs to the big entrance doors, hoping to arrive there before you.

You are shuddering, your fingers numb from the biting cold, when you push open the big oak doors and stumble inside. Eris is already there to catch you, having rushed down the hallway and the broad staircase to get to you in time. “My darling,” he says, his own rapid heartbeat matching yours. His strong arms sling around your middle and he pulls you to him, the warmth his skin radiates making the slightest bit of cold already disappear from your body. Eris holds you close to his body, idly stroking your back and your side. He leans in, his cheek pressing against the side of your head. “I was worried,” he breathes into your hair. You curl your own arms tighter around him, holding him tightly and letting his warmth seep into you. “I am sorry, I got hold up. Then it started to get dark, a snow storm started  and the journey took longer than expected.”

Eris gives you a tight squeeze and breathes in deeply, drawing in your scent. “Don’t apologise. It is all good now.” He kisses the side of your head, leaning back the slightest bit to catch a glimpse of your face. “Shall we take a bath, my darling?”

You incline your head a little, your chin brushing Eris’ chest. A small smile appears on his lips, simultaneously on yours and in the next moment his arm moves under your knees and he picks you up, carefully carrying you upstairs to the large bathroom. It is all brown marble, even the bathtub in the middle of the room which is magically already filled with water. A few candles are burning, otherwise the room is dim. Eris has prepared this for you. 

He places your down on the floor, turning you so you face him again and he can start to undress you. Eris skillfully makes work of the button of your jacket, helping you slip out of it. Your thick sweater, the warm trousers as well as shoes and socks follow. The High Lord of Autumn takes his time helping you get rid of your undergarments and neatly folds everything on a stool next to the sink. You are still cold, shivering a little but the bathroom is warm, is heated. 

Standing nude in front of him for probably the 500 time, he still looks at you like he sees you for the very first time. Eris is ogling your body in a sensual way, there is nothing unpleasant or uncomfortable about it. No male has ever made you feel as seen and respected as Eris does. His gaze leaves warmth in every place it touches and a bright smile spreads over his face. “Even shaking like a leave in the wind you are the most breathtaking female I have ever seen.” The High Lord pulls his lower lip between his teeth, opening his own shirt. He strips out of his clothes and then extends his hand to you. You take it and he brings your body close to his, kissing you softly when your lips finally connect, your chest pressed against his. His solid body is warm, the fine dusting of red hair tingling your skin the tiniest bit. You revel into the kiss, in the feel of his body against yours. 

Eris leads you to the bath, carefully getting in first and helping you step over the edge. The hot liquid feels like balm to your soul and a soft moan slips through lips which has Eris’ blood rushing to one specific body part. He groans a little when he sits down, helping you down as well and lets you fit in between his legs, your back against his chest. You perfectly fit, leaning onto him, the bubbles surrounding you. The scent of honey, cinnamon and forest surrounds and you let your eye lids fall close, relishing in the warmth that slowly seeps into every fiber of your body. Eris’ fingers dance over your arms, idly stroking up and down, barely even touching you, but it feels incredibly. You sigh audibly, your hand falling to Eris’ thigh, you draw small circles to his skin. 

“How was your day, my love?” you whisper into the silence of the room. Blinking your eyes open, you watch the shadows of the flames dance on the wall opposite of you. “Very calm,” Eris answers and you know he is lying. Since becoming a High Lord he hasn’t had one single calm day. There is always a lot to do. 

“And now an honest answer?” you softly pinch the skin on his inner thigh and a little yelp leaves him. “You cruel thing.” Eris chuckles a little and you feel him shift behind you. He kisses your head and then sinks into the water again. “It was quite stressful. I had many talks with lords, they were alright, but you know how this males are.”

You give his knee a gentle squeeze and turn your head a little so you can look up at him. “I am sorry to hear this,” you say and add, “did they take you serious this time or to I have to punch someone really hard?”

Eris chest rumbles with laughter, brushing against your back. “My lovely and violent mate.” He grins brightly and lets his hand travel to yours, holding it firmly in his. “It was really alright and they also took me serious. We had interesting talks, it was just exhausting. I didn’t really have a break.” Eris lifts your arm, bringing your hand to his mouth and he kisses your knuckles, smiling against your skin. “How was the Winter Court?”

You tell him about the talks you had with Viviane and Kallias, about the trades and treaties you talked about and also about the situation in Prythian.” Eris listens to every word you say, bound to your lips. He loves when you do diplomacy, loves listening to you when you talk about. 

Using his magic Eris warms the water from time to time so you can stay in as long as you want, finally enjoying some peaceful rest and calm after a very exhausting day. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @sunshinebingo@tarataraaaa@brekkershadowsinger@azriels-mate123 @mandziaaa@cosmic-whispers @mali22@elsie-bells@imma-too-many-fandoms@kuraikei@ginnyweasley06@bubnix@powerfulpantera @a-frog-with-a-laptop

[useless-moss]

Back with the dragon headcanons.

This episode: The Night Fury

Buckle up, this is a long one.

Color variations! Their whole body is usually a dark color. Shades of black/dark grey, dark blue, dark purple are the most common. However, they also have lighter colored patterns on the underside of their wings. Blurred together scales and marks that resemble the northern lights and/or a galaxy type design. It started as a mutation meant for better camouflage, but eventually turned into a mating thing like with peacocks. A night fury has really pretty patterns/designs on the underside of their wings? They have a better chance of getting a mate.

Patterns. They have darker markings and patterns. Think of a black jaguar or a tabby cat for reference. Also, accompanying the previously mentioned designs on the underside of their wings, white speckles that look like stars and can even extend to their underbelly.

Toothless has melanism, hense his more solidly black design, and is actually considered even more rare because of his coloration alone.

They have the widest eye color variation among dragons. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, even shades that look purple are possible.

They usually live in large packs led by a female alpha/queen. If you find one Night Fury, there's usually at least ten more nearby.

Night Fury's in a pack are able to fight the control of dragons like the Red Death and Bewilderbeast more easily since, well, they already have an alpha they're following. Solo Night Furys are still strong willed and can break out with enough trying, but it's significantly harder.

Night Furys are one of if not the most intelligent dragon species. They're able to adapt to different environments, learn from observation to mimic other animal, dragon, and even human behavior, can recognize human weapons, and are smart enough to strategize hunting plans.

Building onto that last point, they don't hunt anywhere near where they nest. They'll fly miles away to hunt for, usually, fish. At least half of the pack will leave at a time while the other half stays back to guard the hatchling, eggs, and nesting area in general. This behavior was learned and adopted after being hunted to near extinction.

Their favorite nesting places are areas that humans can't easily get to. Large cliffs with rocky/rushing water below and in areas prone to storms. Again, a learned behavior from being hunted.

More nesting info, they use a combination of their plasma blasts and claws to dig/carve out caves into said cliffs, which is where they'll nest. Cliff side in an area you can't get too close to on boat with a bunch of holes in the side? Congrats! You probably just found a Night Fury nesting ground and should turn back quickly.

Night Furys aren't inherently aggressive or hostile at all, really. They're wary of humans for obvious reasons, and will defend themselves and their pack/territory, but otherwise they're pretty laid back. Big cats, essentially. Don't be a threat, give them space, and you get to live. This is partly due to them being smart enough to recognize via body language, tone, and even supplies if someone or something is a threat or not.

You want to tame a Night Fury? No weapons, bring food, and again give space. Let them come to you, because they will eventually. Will begin to realize you're not a threat, then realize you bring snacks, then accept that you're pretty alright and begin allowing more physical contact/affection and eventually be okay riding/flying with you. It's a slow process built entirely on trust and mutual respect. If you start getting pushy with a Night Fury, especially too soon in the process, they'll push you away and you have to start from scratch.

Night Fury's are very, very, very protective and loyal. Arguably one of the best dragons to tame purely off of the fact they'll stick with you until the very end and do everything possible to keep you safe.

Once you've tamed or generally befriended a Night Fury you're considered part of the pack. Dynamic from there depends on the type of Night Fury you're dealing with. An adult/older male or female with a history of hatchlings? They'll likely consider you as one of their own babies. A juvenile/younger male or female? They'll likely see you more as a sibling. A hatchling? Hope you're ready to be a parent cause that's what they'll likely see you as.

Cuddle piles. They'll usually sleep cuddled up with littlermates and parents in a pile of sort for warmth and security. This is a behavior that persists into adulthood, since it's a source of comfort and stability as well as a bonding experience.

You know the smaller nubs on a Night Fury's head? Hatchlings tend to suckle on those for comfort. There's literally no other reason. It's like a baby with a pacifier, essentially.

My personal favorite now, SCRUFF! Hatchlings have looser yet tougher skin on the back of their neck that acts as a scruff, allowing adults to pick them up and carry them around easily. As they age it stretches and thins and, eventually, that pressure point we saw in httyd 2 becomes 'exposed.' At that point a parent or other adult Night Fury will nudge the spot with their snout or claws to activate it. This whole process usually occurs around early juvenile/teen stages, since that's when a night fury will begin actively joining hunting parties and need to fly with more speed and agility.

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Headcanon: Katniss tries to help Peeta at the bakery and burns her wrist. From then on until it heals after her bath at night Peeta sits behind her on the bed and brushes out her hair slowly and rhythmically

Can I interest you in some domestic post-mj fluff (or maybe it's hurt/comfort?). You'd think I'd know how to classify this by now. Rated somewhere between G and T depending on how you feel about non sexual nudity.

Enjoy!

<3 kdnfb

I’ve always hated burns. The way even the smallest of them causes excruciating pain. And now I have hundreds of reasons to hate them. And even though, as a baker, Peeta’s used to small burns on his own skin, he always submits to my care when I demand he let me soothe his hurts with whatever cold substance we have available. Ice from the freezer. Cold water from the tap. Snow from the ground if it’s winter and he tells me about the burn while we’re walking home.

But that hasn’t made it easy for me to accept his caring when I hurt myself. Sometimes, I’d rather hide it from him and find a closet to hide in while the memories of my sister feel contained in that tiny new burn, making the already unbearable pain into something unimaginable. At times, I think I may combust once again, the blaze starting at the new wound and consuming me within seconds.

This time, though, I can’t hide it. Peeta was right beside me as we were baking. He was trying to show me how to make the cheese rolls I love so much.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as he holds my arm under the tap, running it full cold over my wrist. His grip on me is too tight to allow me to even pull back, let alone escape and run away.

I watch his jaw clench and rest my forehead on his chest, repeating my apology as the tears in my eyes burn almost as badly as my wrist. I want to collapse, but Peeta’s body pressing me against the sink won’t allow for even that.

“Stop it, Katniss. Stop apologizing.”

“I ruined them. I ruined the rolls,” I whimper and turn my head enough to spot them still scattered on the floor from where I dropped the tray after it slipped just enough in my grip to burn my wrist.

“I don’t care about the rolls,” he says and then twists his body, reaching for the cabinet where we keep the burn creams.

He sets it down on the counter and then grabs my chin, forcing my head up to look at him.

“Hey. Look at me, Katniss. I’m right here. Don’t look away. Say it.”

I take a few deep breaths, entranced by the depths in those blue eyes. The plea in them that whispers to me, begs me to understand his terseness. “You don’t care about the rolls.”

“I really don’t. Come on. Let’s get some ointment on this.”

It still stings, the ingredients designed to continue cooling the area and numb it as well. But it’s never enough to completely get rid of the pain.

I only know when he’s done because Peeta scoops me into his arms and carries me upstairs. He sets me down on the bathroom counter and starts the water in the tub, drizzling in fragrant oils. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says and gently kisses my forehead. “I’m just going to make sure Buttercup doesn’t find the rolls and try to eat them. Don’t get in the tub alone.”

He’s only gone for a few minutes. I don’t budge during that time, but the tub is close to being full so Peeta turns off the water and helps me down from the counter, slowly stripping me, careful of my burned wrist. Then he lifts me up and lowers me into the tub.

As his arms retreat, he grips my injured arm and holds it out of the water before setting it on top of a rolled towel on the edge of the tub. I’m only half there as he brings a stool, screeching loudly on the tile floor, right next to the tub. Only half noticing the feel of his hands washing my body, all except for the injured arm. 

But he must wash my hair because when I am able to note my surroundings again, we’re seated on the bed, positioned so that I’m gazing out the window, watching the breeze play with the curtains and the vibrantly red, orange, and yellow leaves shivering in the trees outside. I turn my head slightly when I feel a tug on my hair and realize that Peeta is drying my hair. Carefully gathering up bunches of it and squeezing out the the water, absorbing into a soft towel. Again and again and again.

“Start your list,” he suggests and I inhale the soothing scent of the cream I use in my hair to make the tangles easier to brush out. The scent of rose oil, but not the cloying, mutated smell of Snow. Gentler, wilder, softer. Peeta works the oil in my hair as I start the list, with Cinna this time, because Peeta’s hands in my hair reminds me of my old friend.

My eyes drift shut and Peeta hums encouragingly as I keep talking. He brandishes a comb and when I shiver, he pauses.

“Are you alright?”

“It’s soothing, don’t stop just…” He waits and I breathe in deeply. “I used to comb Prim’s hair, when Mom couldn’t and… I miss my mother braiding my hair.”

“I know. I’m sorry I’m such a poor substitute,” he says, lighthearted and without any self-pity.

No one needs me.

I lean back and turn my head, until I can see his face. I bend my uninjured arm to cup his jaw and his hands fall away from my hair.

“Say it,” I whisper and tug on his blonde curls until his lips brush mine. “Say it, Peeta.”

“You like it when I comb your hair. Real or not real?”

“Real. Say the rest.”

“I’m not a poor substitute.”

We’re distracted for a moment as his lips move over mine. Until he gently pushes me forwards again.

“Let me finish, impatient,” he teases and I smile, ever so slightly. 

He resumes combing my hair. Steady and rhythmic, not unlike the way he kneads dough in the bakery, only much softer and gentler. Still, I find myself humming a quiet tune. A love song I remember my father singing for my mother. I don’t sing just yet though and the smile still curves over my lips when he’s done and secures the end of my braid with a leather hair tie. He bends over then and kisses my bare shoulder. 

It’s only then that I realize I’m wrapped in only a towel and stand to put on a nightgown. After, Peeta applies more ointment to my arm.

Every day after that, he helps me bathe and braid my hair, careful to keep my injured arm clean and dry until I can stand water on it again. When we finally deem the burn healed enough to no longer need bandages, I ask him to join me in the tub and scoot forward after he undresses, leaving room for him to sink into the water with me, His thighs hugging tight to my hips and his lips soft on my shoulders, the back of my neck. He gently grasps my wrist and bends my arm until he can kiss the small new scar. And after we bathe, he combs and braids my hair for bed.

[xxbrightshadowxx]

TF One Shatter Glass Au

Kay so I’ve heard about Shatter Glass before in transformers which is basically of the autobots were evil and decepticons were good(I think? I’m not sure. in the words of my cousin I’m still new to transformers) so I decided to come up with an au for Tfone for it.

Everything would start out the same, everything from the movie would play out, until the attack at the High Guard’s base. Instead of Bee and D-16 being captured it’s Elita and Orion.

D-16 is crushed and is ready to give everything up, he snaps at Bee and laminates that they are doomed and ask how can he do optimistic and naive when he was in a crappier position than he was beforehand. They argue for a while till D-16 kinda admits he’s jealous of orion for being so optimistic and kind even during horrible times. Bee helps him out and shows him to always look for good and tells him this is a chance to improve their lives.(kinda effy on this part)

With the power of persuasion aka, D-16 cannons, they convince the high guard to help them go rescue the others

Meanwhile back at Sentinel’s tower Orion thinks D-16 is dead and is depressed, the evidence is destroyed and he feels like crap. Sentinel mocks them like on the film, and Elita bites back at him which results in Sentinel berating Elita and nearly hurting her till Orion intervenes. Sentinel, tired of Orion being mouthy, takes the( I think it was a drill or a torch?? Can’t remember the name.) and uses it to scratch up his mouth. Orion’s optics turn to yellow

Basically similar thing happens, D-16 gets the miners to help(though is more threatening and uses the high guard to convince them) he freaks out when he sees injured Orion and the same thing happens in the movie except when D tries to shoot Sentinel Orion convinced him not to and D’s optics turn blue. While they walk away, Sentinel tries to stab Orion but D pushes him out of the way and gets stabbed. D and Orion tries to catch him but fails and falls into the well.

Orion turns around and his optics are a bright red and he kills Sentinel, less graphic than D-16 does in the film, a simple execution shot to the head. Meanwhile D-16 is, you guess it, is given the matrix for choosing good even in his darkest moments and sacrificing his life for him.

Orion steal Sentinel’s t cog and changes his designation to Optimus Prime, claiming himself the new ruler. His speech is able to convince several others including Elita, Bee, and several other miners that the only way to become equal they must steal their t cogs back from the ones that ‘wronged them.’ So attack the ones already with t cogs and steal them for their selves.

Megatron comes back and is horrified at what Orion has become but Op knows that’s he’s crossed a line he can’t go back and they fight. Megs wins but can’t kill his friend leaving him to leave. The miners feel in a way betrayed since Megatron told them he could change their future but he wants to keep the bots with t cogs alive. Basically saying he ‘deceptive’ them.(get it?)

The miners, Elita, Bee, and Op leave leaving some miners behind, the high guard, and Megatron behind.

In this au, while good, Megatron is still a bit violent and the decepticons methods are still a bit violent but they do want peace and equality. Most of his journey would be becoming a better leader for his team and for Cybertron. Starscream would still try to surprise him because, yes.

Meanwhile Op is kinda manipulative in this au. He uses his kindness to trick and gain bots trust to make them do whatever he wants. Op wants equality but his ideas to achieve it is fucked up and twisted. Elita, after realizing her entire life and all her effort was for nothing also sorta crashes out and is fully on board with OP’s plan. After Meg’s ‘death’ and seeing his two friends actively prompt their idea of rebuilding Cybertron, Bee kinda goes along with them. He is not as bad or evil as Elita and Op in this au so his optics are either yellow or orange. He’s like the thundercracker of this au.

I might write a fic about this one day. If I do, I’ll post a link here if anyone thinks this is an ok idea?