#now hes a big ole softy
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he's never going to find out
#geno smrpg#bowser smrpg#super mario rpg#geno#bowser#post's art gallery#they made bowser a big ol softie is this game and I'm eating it up#like to imagine he's irritated that the stars are never granting him his wishes#but the talking doll possessed by one of said stars is a part of HIS minions now (or so they're pretending) maybe he's not the WORST one
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Ah, I knew it wouldn't take long for him to come around. <3
These two dorks. I love 'em.
look who's back to visit us again!! Leading a trade caravan, no less!! It's so good to see that Angst has recovered from her paralytic abasia. She's actually not so bad, all things considered.
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#rimworld#gracie plays#A Mechanitor's Message#art#my art#traditional art#rimworld art#unpolished art#slightly more polished art than usual#Mechi and Ivy are so darn cute#Kwahu mainly feeds her#but Mechi has taken it upon himself to entertain her#I have never seen Kwahu playing with her and I see Mechi playing peekaboo all the damn time#He's such a big 'ol softie#I do like drawing the boys in sleeveless tops#but I don't know how well singlets would prevent sunburn sooo...#Perhaps not#the dusters will suffice for now#welcome back Angst!#We're glad you're okay#Have an awesome day everyone!! <3 <3 <3
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BUCKLE UP ITS EPISODE THOUGHTS TIME
(ep12 spoilers under the cut :))
y’all
yALL
those first goddamn beats?
i sit down to watch every episode and during every single intro i’m there doing my little air drums along with intro beats but dude??
this time??
where they just cut out?!?!!
the sheer fucking unease, INSTANTLY, that was INSANE. I know it’s such a small thing but if that isn’t some form of masterful art i don’t know what is.
and the way that continued into the first shot of the GAR base in sepia, washed out and almost empty even with all the stormtroopers walking around, our first view of Crosshair was immediately unsettling because it all felt wrong.
but into the real stuff—
I feel like towards the beginning of this episode, we were seeing how complacent Crosshair is being. He’s standing around, and although he speaks up a tiny bit when Lieutenant Don’t-Give-A-Shit (love that we’ve all collectively decided he doesn’t get to have his name bskhsjsjk) is rolling his eyes at the clones, Cross backs down and says nothing after that jab at them about being “used equipment.” He can’t be happy with it for sure, but he’s letting it happen because what else should he do? Speak up? And get kicked out of the Empire that’s keeping him working? No thank you, he’d rather grit his teeth and let it happen. A mission’s a mission.
Later though, when we meet Mayday, we see the first moment of Crosshair rebelling. Mayday speaks up against the Lieutenant when Crosshair doesn’t, and once he’s gone, he brings the heat lamp a little bit closer to Crosshair. Call it cliché but I think this is a literal representation of what Mayday is doing for Crosshair, he literally brings that spark closer, he shows him that they can and should care about each other while the empire doesn’t. And when Mayday tells him his name, that moment is an invitation. It’s a calling to Crosshair, to see if denies it, sticks by the empire and uses his number or better yet, doesn’t respond at all. But he doesn’t. He chooses his name, and how has it been since he’s said it out loud? Last time he heard it was probably from Cody, and before that the Batch themselves. And in this case, he’s choosing to use his name, choosing that little rebellion against the empire at Mayday’s invitation.
And isn’t it fitting how his name is Mayday? He’s a literal call for help. He’s Crosshair’s call for help, one he can’t bring himself to voice on his own, but Mayday is bringing it all to light anyway. He brings up how this new Lieutenant hasn’t commanded a real mission, he hasn’t earned their respect, so why should he treat them how he does? Crosshair was a commander for a minute, he must’ve thought the same things. And when the cargo turns out to be stormtrooper gear, Mayday is right there with his line of, “We were good soldiers. We followed orders. …And for what?” What was it for? To be separated from his brothers, to have to hunt them down, to be demoted from Commander after all that effort and to now be helping deliver cargo? Cargo meant to help the empire, but intentionally held back, hidden from the clones? Nothing Crosshair has done has made anything better, he can stay quiet and loyal all he likes, but it’s not doing him any favors. The empire doesn’t care that they’re good soldiers, they’re all still expendable.
And through the episode, we see Crosshair trusting Mayday more and more. First with the pressure mine, when he talks about the Batch and Mayday ends up saving him from the mine. Then when they’re ambushing the raiders, he returns the favor, taking out the raiders about to overwhelm Mayday. And when they go down to look at the cargo, Crosshair does his little slide thing (omG he is so sweet he is SO SWEET) and that’s the first moment he takes his helmet off around Mayday, he finally trusts him enough to be more vulnerable. ( @jealous-sloth77 made a BEAUTIFUL post abt his helmet and it’s significance/parallels to his vulnerability, highly encourage u to go read it if u haven’t!!)
And right here, after the avalanche, Crosshair’s journey to bring Mayday back to the base shows how he’s losing his loyalty to the empire. It’s not worth carrying dead weight, logically he shouldn’t bring the Commander back, not when he’d be better off just saving himself. But he doesn’t. He chooses to help Mayday, and along the way he’s slipping even further from the empire. He’s lost his helmet, he’s letting Mayday use his Firepuncher as a crutch, he’s carrying that dead weight anyway and none of this is what a “good soldier” to the empire should do. And when the ships fly overhead, my first thought was that they should use a flare or something, call for help, since surely the Empire could see them from here? But they don’t have the gear, they never got the supplies they needed and besides, would the Empire even care?
By the time Crosshair makes it back to base, he’s nearly done. He pleads with the Lieutenant one last time to help him, to do something, but he doesn’t. He sits there and watches Mayday die, then says that was the point. He was a soldier to the Empire. His death was just inevitable.
And Crosshair snaps.
This moment where he shoots the Lieutenant is so intense because there’s so many pieces tying into it.
Firstly, he uses his handgun. He’s a sniper, used to killing from afar, but this time? He calls after the Lieutenant, waits for him to turn and look him in the eyes, and then he shoots him point blank. Crosshair is done.
Second, we all know it by now but the vulture parallels? The way Mayday introduced that: “Vicious creatures. But you have to admire them. They find a way to survive.” That’s Crosshair. That’s who he is, he isn’t one to balk at violence, he does what needs to be done. And you have to admire it, because it’s true, he’s finding his way to survive. And in particular in this moment, he’s choosing his own path to survival. He’s cutting himself away from the Empire, the lone vulture that survives despite it all.
But right at the end, it doesn’t work.
The Empire takes him again, probably leaves Mayday on that platform, and he’s sent off to be experimented on by the Empire. By Emerie.
And that’s the last point I want to make with this, is all the parallels throughout this episode to the rest of the batch. The most obvious I think is Emerie. Her goggles immediately reminded me of Tech, and here how she’s surveying Crosshair, it almost seems like Cross makes that connection too. Not just that, but her voice is incredibly similar to Omega’s (due to the voice actor ofc but still, that’s a choice), and as the screen fades out, her glasses stay prominent on the screen, and she only feels more reminiscent of Tech.
But she’s not the only parallel. With the pressure mine in the cave, Mayday directly says he’s “not a bombs expert.” But we’re all thinking of who is. And with the blood in the snow, Crosshair tracking it to the source, he’s quiet literally hunting down the target. Him shooting the shuttle on the landing pad, the explosion (i am so sorry listen u really thought i wasn’t gonna bring up echo in this post abt the crosshair ep u FOOL), not to mention the whole ending sequence with Crosshair waking up confused in a medbay? There’s even some parallels to the 501st (the troopers helmets set together while Mayday mourns), not that that has to do with Crosshair, but still. Even in the one episode without them, there were so many parallels to Crosshairs brothers, and I’m certain I missed a few. Some of it was probably just coincidence or the writers keeping us entertained despite the others not being here, but it also feels like little pieces of them just keep showing up. And I’m sure Crosshair would be noticing it too.
This episode was just chock full of little beautiful moments, the music, the parallels, the characters, Crosshair’s lines in particular were just incredible, and Mayday was such a new version of “Clone Commander” that we just haven’t seen before. Everything about this episode could be something I would talk abt for HOURS but it would eventually turn into incoherent sobbing noises because my SWEET BOY U POOR POOR MAN WHERE ARE YOUR BROTHERS YOU NEED THEMMMMMM. I want to give Cross a hug SO BAD, he deserves every nice thing after today, that was a TRIP.
if it wasn’t like 11 at night when i was posting this i would tag people (and if i was more confident bkshsjsj) but i always love hearing peoples thoughts, either on this ep or predictions for where this storyline goes in the next one!! :)
#no but ok crosshairs little slide down the mountain i almost SOBBED HE FELT LIKE PRE-ORDER CROSS AGAIN AAAAAAABSJSJIWHWIWIW#also someone get this man a heated blanket and some cucumber for his eyes RN he just walked through a blizzard for like a DAY after a big#ole bright flash went off directly in his face and then just?? kept walking through the blinding white snow to save the reg he just met??#cross u absolutely softy ur wonderful now sit down and take a nap for the love of lula please#probs a bit late to be posting this but eh who cares it was fun :)#if i tell myself internal validation is all i need one day it will be true bskhjwjskjsks#sw tbb#sw tbb spoilers#tbb spoilers#tbb s2 spoilers#the bad batch spoilers#bad batch spoilers#the bad batch#tbb s2#tbb crosshair#i should really sleep now lol
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Giving up
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: Coaxing your neighbor into having sex with you although he's unsure since he's much, much older than you
Warnings: big ass unspecified age-gap, Jackson!Joel is a softie Smut| unprotected piv, crempie, insicure!joel, sub!joel, also my man has trouble lasting cause he's not done this in a very long time.
a/n:i needed to write some cheesy romantic stuff, and maybe it doesn't really make all that sense in this story and maybe i cried while writing this cause no one is ever gonna love me like this but so what bitch leave me alone (i also am i lil tipsy as i proofread this, so ignore any mistakes pls)
Part 1
"did you do something to your hair?"
Tommy was standing on Joel's doorstep, looking at him as if he were an alien.
"I washed 'em" he grumbled, "what do you want?"
His brother couldn't help but huff out a laugh
"someone's in a good mood today"
"I've gotta be somewhere, just tell me what you want"
Tommy's interest was only piqued more.
there stood his brother, his clothes perfectly clean- maybe even ironed- his hair... styled, his beard trimmed...
something was definitely going on.
"Where are you going?"
Joel rolled his eyes now, shooting his little brother a death glare
"none of your business"
Oh he knew what was going on...
"Who is she?"
"Tommy-"
"Is it Jessica? I bet 's Jessica, she's always flirting with you you ol' dog-"
Joel swore he was gonna punch him- he was already running late because of how long he took to pick his clothes- finding a flannel that wasn't completely worn out turned out to be real fucking hard.
He felt stupid for how much effort he'd put into getting ready, he felt stupid for how anxious he was, but most of all... he wanted his brother to go away.
"There ain't no one, Tommy- now, if there ain't anything you need, please go-"
But just then- just when he was finally going to get rid of him, your sweet, soft voice made its way to his ears.
"Hi Joel! Hi Tommy!" You smiled from your porch, waving your hand at him and his brother "You didn't forget about today, did you Joel?"
What in the actual fuck?
Tommy did a double-check, looking between you and his brother, and when he finally confirmed that it was actually him you were talking to, you whom he'd gotten all dolled up for, he couldn't do anything but let out a slow, long breath.
"No I didn't- I'll be there in a minute, darlin'!" Joel was answering you as his brother regained his ability to speak
"well... Fuck. Me" he was in awe, his voice barely a murmur
"it ain't like that" Joel was quick to intervene "'m just fix-"
"'m sure it ain't" Tommy let out a chuckle, his hand going to pat his brother's back "You fucking lucky bastard"
"Tommy I know she's young bu-"
"shut up man" he laughed "Just go have fun, you asshole"
__ __
"Sorry 'm late, Tommy was just-"
You smiled at his words, shaking your head
"It's ok, Joel" you cooed as you let him in,
He gave you a soft little smile, and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.
Joel Miller didn't smile just at anyone.
"water?" you asked, leading him to the kitchen.
"Uhm- sure"
His heart was damn near beating out of his chest already- for no fucking reason at all.
Well except the obvious one... you'd sucked his dick and he'd eaten you out three days ago- and you'd made it clear you wanted more.
Jesus Christ, he felt like a fourteen-year-old with his first crush.
You watched him as he sipped on the glass.
"So?" a soft smirk was caged between your teeth "Did you think about it?"
He damn near choked.
Which didn't make any sense, he was expecting this, he already knew you'd ask.
He cleared his throat, diverting his eyes from you "I-I have"
"And?"
You'd gotten closer, your expectant eyes studying every inch of his face
pleasepleasepleaseplease say yes
"Did- didn't you have something that needed fixing?"
Oh for fuck's sake
"joel" you called for him in what almost sounded like a plead.
"darlin' just... lemme fix your cabinet first"
This man was gonna be the goddamn death of you.
"ok"
__ __ __
As it turns out, in many different ways.
Who knew watching him fix something would turn out to be so fucking hot?
He'd rolled his shirt up so that his strong forearms and a glimpse of his beautiful bite-worthy biceps were showing, his hands moved so very expertly that they couldn't help but bring back memories of what those same fingers had done to you just a few days ago, and his face... he looked so hot when he was all in his head, concentrated only on the task before him-
or so you thought.
"You're gonna stare at me the whole time?"
A soft laugh escaped your lips
"don't mind me- just enjoying the view"
He huffed out a laugh as he went back to work, but you couldn't help but notice the fact he pushed his sleeves ever further up his arms, giving you more of a view of his delectable skin.
What a tease
__ __ __
"there we go" he said after some time, opening and closing the cabinet one final time to make sure "all done"
For the record, this time you hadn't even done it on purpose, the cabinet had actually broken. It was like fate was sending you a message.
You awakened from your daydreams as he stood up to his full height, and hopped off the stool you were sitting on to walk closer to him, noticing some dampness in your panties while doing so...
It wasn't your fault... he was the one looking way too hot doing such a simple task.
"thank you" You smiled up at him, your hands going to his chest,
He held his breath for a moment
"'s nothing babygirl"
"yeah? then... you think you could check my bedroom too?" you were biting your lip in a way that made your question take on a whole different meaning "to make sure nothing needs fixing y'know?"
"In your... bedroom?"
"yes, Joel- please" you added, with your best innocent doe eyes.
Which of course made him fold in a matter of seconds.
You'd taken on a different tactic. It was obvious at this point that the man was too shy and too unsure to give you an answer (or the one you wanted to hear anyway), which is why you needed to present him with the actual possibility right in front of him.
And yeah maybe it was manipulative, but fuck it if you didn't wanna feel the man inside of you.
The flashbacks of what he did to you on that bed filled his mind the moment he stepped into the room.
He needed to get a grip or he wouldn't be able to hide his growing bulge in a minute.
"Everything seems right"
"yeah? 'm not sure about the bed" you hummed, desperately hoping he would just go along with it "it makes a weird sound when I get on it"
He turned to you then, his eyes locking with yours for an infinite second.
"try" you said finally, nodding to the bed.
He watched you for a moment longer before, surprising you, he did it- he sat on the bed.
The mattress creaked underneath his weight, and you made quick work of strolling closer to him as he pressed his palms on the bed, checking for the inexistent "weird sound"
"it don't look like there's anythin' wron-" he looked up the moment your hands found his shoulders "Whatcha doin'? sweethear-"
You were sat on his lap before he could even finish the sentence.
"Joel" you spoke his name softly, as if it were a caress, your hands slowly moving up and down from his shoulders to his pecs, as you finally scooted closer to him so your core was right against the hardness in his jeans-
He inhaled sharply, his fingers curling on the bed.
"would you like to have sex with me or not?"
You accentuated your words with a slow roll of your hips, grinding onto him and making a soft groan build inside his throat
"this- this ain't really fair sugar"
A smirk pulled at your lips as you lowered your head to whisper in his ear "I never said I didn't play dirty, Mr. Miller"
Your right hand trailed lower, moving down his belly so slowly that Joel thought he might just lose his mind.
"You're y-young baby-"
Your hand had found his crotch, the outline of his dick fitting in your hand oh so perfectly.
"we've gone over this already Joel, I'm old enough" you purred, your lips leaving a peck just below his ear "old enough to do many many things"
He cursed under his breath
"I just... I don't understand"
A breathy laugh escaped you
"there's not much to understand really" you murmured "You're hot, and I like you, and I wanna get in your pants"
That earned you a chuckle
"and you're sure you won't regret this?" he asked, "you sure this is what you really want- that- that you don't want to give a boy your age a chance instead of me?"
You smiled as you looked up at him,
you'd never met a man so sweet
"Joel, I promise you I'm sure" you whispered "I promise you this is what I want, you are what I want"
Fucking damn it
How could he ever say no after that?
With those gentle eyes of yours looking at him, with your hand right over his cock...
"So?"
He was gonna think about the consequences tomorrow. Now- now there was only you.
"yes"
That single word sounded better than any song you'd ever heard.
yes
Your lips were on his before he could even think of changing his mind- and god did they feel like a dream.
His soft stubble grazed against your cheeks and upper lip, as you deepened the kiss, as he opened up to you, closing his eyes only after he'd taken you in, only after he could admire all that was happening to him for some godforsaken reason.
A growl rumbled from his chest when your core found his dick again, grinding onto it in a way, that combined with the way your tongue was tasting every inch of him, was making him see stars.
He didn't think he'd kissed like this in 30 years,
making out seemed like such a distant thing from him, he was much too old to do something like this, and yet... everything about you made him feel like a teenager all over again, so perhaps it was fitting-
and god he had forgotten how amazing it felt.
You started undoing his flannen, not even dreaming of breaking the kiss, and once you opened his shirt up, once his big strong chest was right there before you, you just had to look at it.
You leaned away, his lips chasing yours making you smile as your gaze lowered.
Jesus, he was the hottest man you'd ever seen.
Some hair and freckles adorned his pecs, his little belly was ever so cutely fighting against his jeans- his skin was soft beneath your palms as they explored every inch they could reach.
He was looking at you, watching your blow-out eyes, wondering what potion you'd drank to be this mesmerized by what he had to offer.
You smiled once you caught him, leaning closer to leave a quick kiss on his lips.
"take off your clothes"
You got off of him, and once he saw you get rid of your shirt, your boobs pushed together by a simple black bra that somehow, at the moment, seemed like the sexiest thing in the world, he rushed to follow suit, nearly tripping getting off his pants.
The moment he looked at you again, the world- the universe, it all went quiet.
You stood naked before him, a soft, perfect little thing, looking like a damn dream.
"babygirl" he could only breathe as you reached him again.
"What?" you laughed
"I-I don't even know"
You shook your head, grinning from ear to ear as he pressed his mouth on yours again.
He was already addicted.
In a haze, you found yourself on the bed, your body caged beneath his, his tongue fighting with yours, his hands all over- You almost had the urge to laugh at how desperate he seemed, how frantically he was touching every inch of you, exploring every piece of skin-
His hands were on your tits, fingers gently playing with your nipples, then on your belly, your waist, your ass, your thighs, until finally, he found your core, but before he had the time to fully reach it you'd switched up with him, straddling his lap as he laid flat on his back... only he couldn't keep away for even a second and he immediately sat up, grabbing your waist.
He couldn't even begin to complain that you'd already grabbed his cock, positioning it at your entrance.
You couldn't wait anymore- you needed him now.
"Wait-" he murmured, his breathing labored already "you sure you're... y'know ready?"
Oh my god, you swore you were gonna fall for him if he kept this shit up.
"Joel" you smiled, looking into his big brown eyes "I've been wet since you fixed the cabinet"
"I-" he blushed "You-you sure?"
You didn't answer him, you simply took one of his hands in yours and guided him to feel just how much you were telling the truth.
"Fuck"
"yeah" you smirked "that's just what you do to me, Mr. Miller"
Jesus fuck
Joel didn't think his cock had ever been so hard.
You didn't give him time to do or say anything- he'd gathered that's how you did things by now- as you slowly, oh so very slowly, started sinking onto him.
He was big, the kind of big you'd be feeling tomorrow morning. The stretch hurt just right, so overwhelmed by the unadulterated pleasure that it was barely there.
Soft little moaned gasps spilled from your lips with every inch added, your eyes were closed, only focusing on the extraordinary feeling as your nails clawed at Joel's chest.
Until, finally- you'd done it. You were fully sat on his cock, and while your eyelids fluttered open, you regained your ability to hear- to hear the curses leaving Joel's mouth between ragged breaths
"Jesus Christ- Jesus fucking Christ- Goddamnit"
His grip on your waist was so tight you were sure it was gonna leave a bruise... not that you were complaining.
"you ok?"
His eyes were shut close and creases of effort filled his forehead, while his chest went up and down as he desperately tried to breathe.
"Joel?"
He swallowed tightly, now breathing in through his nose before exhaling from his mouth.
"d-don't move"
You smiled as you promised "I won't"
God this was fucking embarrassing.
He'd spent three days training.
And yes he wasn't sure he would have said yes, but still, better safe than sorry- except for the fact it clearly hadn't worked.
He had spent three days fucking his own fist and trying to last as much as possible and he did do progress... but this... this was fucking nothing like what he'd felt in the last twenty years.
He was so fucked
"I-I'm sorry" he gritted out, sounding almost defeated "I- I haven't done this in a long time darlin'"
"And you... you feel so fuckin' good- fuck"
Your walls had inadvertently squeezed around him at his words, making a groan rumble in his chest.
"You have nothing to apologize for Joel"
he would have told you that your voice was making everything worse if he weren't so preoccupied with trying to calm his dick down.
"take all the time you need"
And so he did, his eyes remained closed as he breathed through the initial shock, until finally, after what felt like an eternity, he was back.
He had to stifle a moan once he opened his eyes back up.
There you were, your beautiful eyes trained on his with such gentleness and care that it made where his gaze fell to feel even more sinful.
Your boobs were barely touching his chest, and yet they could have been in his face for the effect they had on him- his hands were on your waist, holding onto your soft flesh, your thighs were straddling his lap, giving him no choice but to finally look between your bodies, where you two connected.
"Darlin'" he murmured, hypnotized
You smiled, watching him admiring you in silence
"You look..."
Every word that came to mind wasn't enough, you were otherwordly, you were perfection... so he just settled on the simplest, and perhaps truest of them all.
"you're beautiful"
Your cheeks burned with heat as his gaze came back to yours.
"so are you, Joel"
And that was that.
His lips found yours again, and you couldn't stop your hips as they started moving, rocking back and forth and bringing little waves of ecstasy to your core.
A desperate moan spilled from yours to Joel's mouth as he grabbed the back of your head, forcing you into an even deeper kiss as he started following your movements.
Your hands went to the back of his neck, grabbing at the hair at the nape of it as you finally started bouncing on his dick, and god- god it was even better than you could have ever imagined
The loudest growl sounded from his throat as you worked yourself up and down on his shaft.
He was in another universe, his actions were only reflexes as the hand not tangled in your hair found your tits and then your ass, grabbing at it with tenderness and need.
"Oh Joel" you cried, his dick filling you up better than anything ever before.
You could quite literally feel him in your stomach, every little vein and ridge of skin creating a permanent dent inside of you that only he was ever gonna be able to fill.
"sweetheart- fuck" he groaned on his own, your breaths mixing as you ghosted each other's mouths, his eyes raking over your body and face, while yours couldn't help but roll to the back of your head as his manhood hit a particularly good spot.
"You feel so- good Joel" you whimpered mindlessly, now quickening your pace, desperation taking over you completely.
the sound of him entering your drenched core mixed with the bed creaking underneath you as you drove yourself closer and closer to heaven.
The sound of his name falling from your lips was something that filled Joel's chest with an indescribable feeling, he felt on top of the word, and at the same time... at the same time he wished it had never left your mouth because it was now forever imprinted in his brain, and he knew nothing was ever gonna compare to it.
Oh and also- also it was making his little lasting problem real fucking hard to control.
But he was nothing if not a gentleman,
You were gonna come, he wasn't gonna have it any other way.
His hand lowered down your belly as you kept chasing your release, looking like a damn glimpse of paradise, until his thumb found your clit.
"Oh fuck" you moaned, your eyes snapping open to look at him- a dark glaze of lust shading your iris.
Joel realized too late that he hadn't taken into account how fucking tight you'd get, and was now really paying the consequences.
Plus when you looked at him like that... maybe just this one time he could not be a gentleman- I mean it's not like he had much choice, he was trying his hardest but- shit
"darlin'" he mumbled, his thumb circling your bud "w-where do ya- where do ya want it?"
You moaned louder just at the thought of him coming
"Inside"
It wasn't even a question
"N-no sweetheart I-I shouldn-"
"Joel" you interrupted him, your lips grazing his as you talked, your grip on his hair tightening "I want you to fill me up until I can feel you leaking out of me for days"
Good Christ and heaven
"Fuck me" he cursed, all his strength going on not coming right there and then "Darlin' please- tell me you're close"
You were already seeing stars as he spoke
"I'm close, baby- oh fuck" you cried "Joel!"
A tsunami of lust-filled pleasure coursed through your veins as your orgasm hit like a damn truck.
You couldn't even remember your name as you screamed his own into the thick air, as you moaned and cried and spasmed around him, feeling him do exactly what you'd asked- filling you up to the very brim.
He'd started coming the moment you did- he couldn't do anything about it, it was just unadulterated perfection-
His head fell between your neck and shoulders as groaned like a man possessed,
until finally, after a good three minutes, you were both back to the land of the living.
He looked twenty years younger when he looked at you again, and you- you looked like the most beautiful woman on earth.
A soft smile pulled at your lips, and you couldn't help but ask "How long before we can do it again?"
And fuck him, but his age didn't matter, with those eyes of yours, it might very well be minutes.
@kluvspedro @bluebiyou @casssiopeia @bean-is-reading @millerispunk @i-cant-stfu
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#sub!Joel#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x you#sub joel miller#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller blurb#smut#joel miller angst#fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us hbo#tlou hbo
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Can you do a vander x reader headcannons in the “every thing worked out.” AU from ep 7 and can it be happy stuff..i really need it ☹️
:)
Arcane Imagines- Vander Headcannons
(I struggle so bad with headcannons I don’t know why)
[arcane] [main page]
Alt uni Vander’s love language is definitely acts of service or quality time with you.
You need something done, he’s got it. You mention something that you forgot to do, he’s already done it for you silly. You hang out at The Last Drop just because you know he wants it. Whenever he’s finished with his job he will only hang around you. And then after his shift he drags out the night by asking questions he most likely already knew. He just wants to hear you talk and spend time with you.
Alt uni Vander grew out his hair after you begged him to do so. You love playing with it, and secretly so does he.
Alt uni Vander is super proud to show you off, along with his four children it’s basically all he talks about.
Speaking of his children who are now adults, they are obsessed with you just like their dad is. They come to you with simple problems even though Vander is right there beside you.
Alt uni Vander is super protective over you, it’s borderline possessive but you didn’t mind it. His excuse every time he scares off a guy is that his energy just seemed off. Something about him was weird. You’d laugh it off, giving him a kiss before going back to what you were doing.
Alt uni Vander who lets you and Powder do his makeup and hair whenever. Sometimes you guys force him to go out into town with it. You guys think it embarrasses him but he doesn’t care. He’s just happy to see his daughter and lover get along so well.
Alt uni Vander is the first one to apologize in an argument surprisingly. Even if he’s in the wrong.
Longest that man has gone without talking to you was 9 hours and that’s because he was sleeping.
Alt uni Vander who gets touchy and extremely loving when drunk. Coming home after being out with Benzo and he lays on top of you dramatically whining that you haven’t given him enough attention. And once you get him to bed he’s clinging onto you, buff arms around you, one leg over top yours. It was a shock that you didn’t suffocate during the night.
Alt uni Vander who observes you so closely to the point where you couldn’t hide a single thing from him. He knows when you lie, if your mood switches and when you are trying to keep something from him. It never lasts long. Calling you out after your little story time. Even the kids know not to tell you a secret because it will get pulled out of you by their dad.
Alt uni Vander who is just a big ole softy fr.
#vander#vander x reader#vander x you#vander x y/n#silco#arcane x y/n#arcane#arcane x you#ekko arcane#arcane x reader#arcane season 2 spoilers#arcane s2#arcane s2 spoilers#arcane season 2#powder and vi#powder arcane#powder x ekko#powder#jinx#jinx x ekko#jinx arcane#mylo and claggor#arcane claggor#mylo#mylo arcane#benzo arcane#arcane meta#arcane silco#silco and jinx#young silco
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Modern Steddie AU
“Oh she’s cute.” Robin points over to a table near the bar.
Steve follows her finger and the blonde in the pink pleated skirt is, in fact, very cute. “You should go talk to her.”
Robin gives him a look, “Literally everything about her screams ‘straight’ so no thanks,” she takes a sip of her cocktail, “Don’t feel like getting humiliated today.”
Steve rolls his eyes, “I doubt she’d humiliate you but suit yourself.” He stands and fluffs up his hair a little, “If you won’t, I sure as hell will.”
Before his friend can protest, Steve’s strutting over to the girl’s table. She looks up at him when he stops and leans slightly against the chair opposite from hers.
“Hi!” she greets before he can say anything. Her whole face lights up as she smiles. She’s definitely cute, but not exactly what Steve had in mind for the night.
“Hey,” Steve flashes his own smile, “I was just telling my friend how cute you are and wanted to know if I could maybe buy you a drink?”
Her face goes pink, but her smile falters slightly and a small frown forms. “Oh that’s so nice of you, but I’m actually a lesbian,” she seems genuinely upset at having to break this news to him. “I’m really sorry, you seem lovely.”
Steve’s eyes widen slightly, but his smile remains, “Oh, god, sorry I should have asked,” he laughs, “That’s totally my bad.”
She shakes her head and leans forward in her seat, “Not at all, sweetheart!” there’s a slight southern accent slipping through and her smile is back. “You couldn’t have known, I know I don’t exactly look the part.”
“Well, since I’m already here,” Steve smirks, glancing over his shoulder to where he can see Robin watching the scene unfold. Her eyes snap away once she realizes he’s looking at her. “My friend over there is single and also extremely gay.”
Chrissy looks over and her smile turns coy, “Now she’s cute,” her eyes snap back to Steve. “She’s the one who told you to come over?”
“The opposite, actually. She thought you were straight so, I came over instead.” Steve explains.
Chrissy nods, glances over her shoulder and then stands. “Well, I’ll just have to go over there then.”
Steve smiles, “I’m Steve, by the way.”
“Chrissy.” The blonde extends her hand and Steve shakes it. “Thank you for letting me know the girl I’ve been eyeing is queer.”
Steve gives her a two-finger salute and goes to walk away, but she grabs his wrist to stop him.
“Do you like men, by any chance?” Chrissy asks, her smile alluding to something.
“Is it that obvious?” Steve laughs.
She gives him a once-over, “The tight shirt sort of gave you away.”
“Fair enough. Why do you ask?”
Chrissy points over to a curly-haired guy covered in tattoos, who’s ordering at the bar, “You should go talk to my friend, Eddie, he’s been blabbing about the hot jock in the polo since you walked in.”
Steve swallows, he’d seen the guy when they walked in, but hadn’t allowed himself to look. He was the kind of hot and scary Steve usually avoided due to their usual disdain for preppy guys like Steve. But surely if he kept Chrissy around, he couldn’t be all bad.
“I don’t exactly seem like his type.” Steve points out, giving Chrissy a nervous glance.
She laughs, “Oh please, pretty boy with big eyes and a great body? You’re everyone’s type.”
“Not yours.”
“Trust me honey, if you were a masc lesbian I’d be all over you right about now.” Chrissy winks and Steve can feel his face heating up.
“I don’t want to bother him…”
Chrissy rolls her eyes, “Just use the same line you used on me, he doesn’t bite.” she pauses, “Unless you ask really nicely.”
Yeah she isn’t exactly easing his nerves with these little jabs.
“He looks like he carries a knife.” Steve’s just stalling at this point.
“I know he seems kinda mean and scary, but he’s really just a big ol’ softie, trust me,” she pats his shoulder, picks up her drink and starts walking towards Robin, “Now I’ve got a pretty lady to talk to, so get! Go make a move on the scary metalhead, Steve!”
Steve watches her go, his amusement growing at the sight of Robin’s panic when Chrissy plops down at their table.
Mustering up the courage to walk to the bar, he turns but immediately bumps into someone. The person manages to steady their drink and somehow prevent Steve from falling on his ass, grabbing him around the waist.
“Shit sorry!” Steve finds his footing, only to nearly lose it again when he looks up to find his face a few inches away from the aforementioned friend of Chrissy’s.
Eddie smiles, squeezes Steve’s waist once before releasing him, “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart.”
Steve’s face must have been bloodshot at that point. Two people had called him sweetheart within the span of a few minutes. At this rate his brain was going to malfunction entirely.
Eddie studies him for a second, his eyes twinkling, before looking over to the now unoccupied table. He frowns, looking around the bar.
“She’s over there.” Steve points to where the two girls are deep in conversation.
Eddie’s eyes look from Steve to Chrissy and back again. “Were you heading back there?”
“Uh, no, actually,” Steve clears his throat. Why was it so hot all of the sudden? “I was told to go talk to the scary metalhead?”
Eddie’s grin returned, showing off his dimples. Steve was allowing himself to stare at the man now, and god was he stunning.
“Scary? That’s rich coming from the girl who literally carries a knife with her.” Eddie sits down at the table and looks at Steve expectantly, “I don’t bite,” he gestures for him to sit, so he does.
“Apparently you do if I ask nicely,” Steve says, then feels his face heat up again when he hears what he said.
Eddie laughs, loud and beautiful, “God, she really knows how to play wingman, huh?”
#this is just a little experiment#had this idea at 3am#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#robin buckley#chrissy cunningham#buckingham#steddie au#modern steddie au
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how to get the First Man™ out of bed
Soft!Adam x GN!Reader
Turns out the 'First Man' himself is actually super clingy. And he is a big baby when it comes to getting up in the mornings. Good luck convincing him to get his ass outta bed!
Word Count: 1.1k
WARNINGS: mentions of sex, implied sexual content, withholding sex, kissing (it's still SFW!)
A/N: Here is the Adam x Reader fluff, finally! I didn't mean for this to have so much sex-adjacent content but I think that's just too integral to Adam's character lmao. It's still SFW though so it's fineee. I didn't mean for the 'withholding sex' part to be manipulative, it's all fun n' games here, so apologies if it comes across as too serious. (It was originally 'one week', not 'one day' - I changed it just in case lol)
Dividers
Beneath the douchebag exterior of the First Man™, Adam’s really just a big ol’ softie. Just deep, deep, deep down. It took a long time to find that part of him, but as his partner, you’re one of the only people that even knows this side of him exists.
One thing you really hadn’t expected from the man is how clingy he can get—it probably has something to do with the abandonment issues, but you’ve never tried to broach that subject. It’s currently early in the morning, and Adam doesn’t seem to plan on letting go of you anytime soon. You’re cuddled up with him in bed, his mask and robes absent as he sleeps. His wings are wrapped around you like a protective blanket. And now you have to try and convince his stubborn ass to get the fuck up. You’ve already been awake for about fifteen minutes, hoping your boyfriend will wake up on his own, but of course, that’s not going to happen.
Getting Adam out of bed is always a struggle. Despite the promotion of Heaven as the ‘perfect place’ with ‘no bad days,’ there’s still a schedule to abide by, and angels still need sleep. And Adam really hates those damn schedules, and loves his beauty sleep. There are a multitude of ways to try and get him out of bed, and every morning is a guessing game to see which one will work.
1. Be sweet and try to gently encourage him to get out of bed.
“Adam, babe,” you murmur softly, opting for a gentle approach this time around. You pat his arms where they’re wrapped securely around your waist—you would try to get a look at his face, but he’s spooning you from behind and giving you absolutely zero wiggle room. “You gotta get up, we have shit to do.”
“Mm…fuck off,” Adam grumbles, only tightening his hold on you and nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck. Which was about what you expected.
2. Be a little assertive.
“Adam, c’mon,” you warn in an attempt to convince him to get the fuck up. “I’ve already given you an extra fifteen minutes.”
“Then gimme fifteen more,” he insists, his voice sounding almost whiny. His childishness would be adorable if you didn’t actually have shit to do today.
3. Be a little more assertive.
You sigh. It’s never easy with this asshole. “Adam.”
The angel in question makes a little ‘mmpf’ sound into your back.
“Get the fuck up.”
He doesn’t even respond this time—he just holds you tighter, his wings copying his arms and trapping you in his embrace.
4. Bribery.
Actually, fuck no. You refuse to bribe him again. He’s already gotten that out of you several times before, getting anything from sex to food to picking what movie you two watch that night (you’ve watched Die Hard three times this week alone)
No, this is a game you are not losing this time.
5. Threats.
“Okay, you’ve got three options,” you offer, your voice less stern than your last attempt but not as soft as your first. “One: you get up.”
Adam makes another noncommittal little grunt of acknowledgment.
“Two: you don’t get up, and Lute breaks into our apartment again to drag your ass out of bed.”
He lets out a sound that sounds kind of like a chuckle, but it’s muffled against the back of your neck, so it’s hard to tell. But he’s clearly not intimidated by the warning.
“Three: you don’t get up and we don’t fuck tonight.”
That gets him. He tenses up for a moment before scoffing in disbelief. “Yeah, right, like you could go a day without this dick.”
A smirk pulls at your lips. You’ve got him now. “Try me.”
Adam’s silent for nearly a full minute. He has a much higher libido than you, and he knows you’d be fine without sex for a day. Him, on the other hand? He’s got a high sex drive and is downright spoiled.
You’re worried he’s fallen back asleep, but eventually, he sighs. His wings unfurl and his grip around you loosens, though not letting go entirely. “Fineee,” he groans dramatically. “But only because I don’t wanna deprive you of my amazing dick.”
You chuckle and turn to face him, now that you have the ability to actually move. His hair’s all messy, as it usually is, and his golden eyes are just barely cracked open.
“Oh, how generous of you,” you joke, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. He instinctively pushes his face into your palm ever so slightly.
“I know, I’m fucking great,” he agrees, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He knows you were being sarcastic, but he’ll turn damn near anything into a compliment that strokes his ego.
You just roll your eyes at his response, albeit fondly. He’s a dumbass, but he’s your dumbass.
“Alright, you big baby, time to get up,” you tease, moving to sit up before his arms tighten around you once more, pulling you back down.
“Hey—” you start, but are immediately cut off by a pair of lips on yours. His lips move slowly and languidly along with yours, and you’re all too happy to reciprocate.
You sigh into the kiss, unable to stop yourself from smiling against Adam’s lips. There’s a big difference between your usual hungry, eager make-outs and the sweet, lazy kisses you get when he’s all soft and sleepy. Both are great, but you really savor these tender, gentle moments with him. In the mornings, he’s too tired to keep up that arrogant ‘too cool for all that mushy, affectionate shit’ persona. And while you love him all the time, sleepy Adam definitely holds a special place in your heart.
He’s smiling when he lets you pull away. The kiss wasn’t a particularly long one, but you could’ve let it go on forever. But you’d be one hell of a hypocrite if you stayed in bed just to kiss your boyfriend after making such a point to get his ass out of bed.
“Now are you ready to get up?” you ask softly, still basking in the warmth of his embrace and the memory of his lips on yours.
“Mm…” Adam hums in consideration. His smile quickly turns to a smirk as he tightens his hold on you yet again and wraps his wings around you. “No.”
“Oh, for the love of—”
⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
Needless to say, you do not stay true to your word about the consequences of Adam not getting out of bed. And Lute does, in fact, break into your apartment half an hour later to be confronted with a sight she sees far too often for her liking.
Fuck him for being so damn stubborn. Literally.
Taglist - @3sire-777
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin adam#hazbin hotel fluff#hazbin hotel oneshots#hazbin hotel adam x reader#hazbin adam x reader#adam x reader#adam hazbin hotel#adam hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x reader
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Hey queenie 😝 I LOVE ur stuff and i was just wondering if we could get some more cold!reader being a big ol’ softie when it comes to spencerrr! Love uuuuuu 💗😘
SOFT-SERVE — SPENCER REID!
spencer reid hates germs. so why should he have to deal with them?
spencer reid x cold!reader | 1.4k | fluff | cold!reader masterlist.
main masterlist.
a/n — we’re broaching romanceeeee
You stand there, eyes scanning the bustling scene in front of you, your arms crossed tightly against your chest as you keep your distance.
There’s nothing new about it — you’ve always preferred the edges, the corners, the spaces where you can observe without truly engaging. Detached, maybe, but it’s how you function. How you cope. You’re good at it. You have to be.
The others are busy doing what they do best, wrapping up the loose threads with officers and family members to round out the case.
Spencer is deep in conversation with one of the local detectives, his voice calm but urgent, a rare mix of focused intelligence and careful consideration that you both admire and feel detached from. You’ve never needed the sort of constant back-and-forth that he thrives on, but you can’t deny the way his presence grounds you.
It’s something you won’t admit aloud, but it's there. Underneath your cool, stoic exterior. A fact that's wrapped up so tightly inside of you, it's almost like a secret.
And right now, as Spencer shakes hands with the detective, you can’t help but feel a little tug of concern. You might be indifferent on the outside, but you know one thing about Spencer—the man hates germs. You’ve seen it, observed it from a distance, and maybe, it’s part of why you’ve made it your mission to take care of him, even if you don't show it in obvious ways.
As the handshake comes to an end, Spencer wipes his palm against his trousers, a subtle wince on his face. It’s a small gesture, but you know exactly what it means. He’s freaking out inside.
Without a second thought, you slip your hand into the front pocket of your jacket, pulling out the familiar bottle of hand sanitiser.
You can almost hear his internal monologue as he stands there, awkwardly fumbling with his own hands, trying to rid himself of the perceived contamination. You know it’s not even the detective’s fault — it’s just the way Spencer is. A man of brilliant intellect with an almost paralysing aversion to germs.
You don’t speak a word as you approach him, holding his hand flat upwards, your fingers cool and detached as you squirt a generous amount of sanitiser into his palm.
“Here,” you say, your voice smooth, unaffected. Detached. He looks up at you with a grateful expression that’s as close to warmth as he’ll allow himself to show in public. You try not to notice how the soft smile on his face makes something inside of you shift, like an ice cube melting in the sun.
“Thanks,” he says quietly, not bothering to hide his relief. You watch as he rubs the sanitiser into his palms, a small sigh of satisfaction escaping his lips.
Morgan, who had been observing from a distance, walks up with a smirk on his face. You already know he’s about to make a comment, and you're not wrong.
“You’re carrying sanitiser around now?” Morgan chuckles, his eyes flicking between you and Spencer. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve become Reid’s butler,”
You roll your eyes, but there’s a faint trace of a smile tugging at your lips, a rare moment of softness. “Someone’s got to do it,” you reply coolly, but it’s clear that Morgan isn’t buying your act. He knows you better than that.
“Sure, sure,” Morgan continues, grinning. “Cold as ice on the outside, but you’re just a big softie when it comes to pretty boy, huh?”
You meet his gaze, your expression as impassive as ever, but your heartbeat betrays you. Morgan can see through you. He always has. You’ve never been able to fully hide your feelings around him.
“You’re imagining things, Morgan,” you respond, but your voice lacks its usual edge. You turn away before he can press further, your heart racing for reasons you refuse to acknowledge.
You’d like to think you’re doing just fine. Detached, cool, untouchable. But Spencer, with his nervous little quirks and brilliant mind, has a way of slipping past all your carefully constructed walls. And you can't explain it. Not to yourself. Not to anyone else.
The rest of the team continues working, and you stand back, keeping your distance. But your eyes keep drifting to Spencer. To the way he talks to the others, his hands making subtle gestures as he speaks, his brow furrowing in concentration, the way his hair falls slightly over his eyes. You’ve always noticed these little things, even though you don’t let anyone else see how much they affect you.
Spencer catches your gaze for a moment, offering you a small, almost shy smile, and something inside of you tightens. You could look away. You could easily turn your attention elsewhere. But you don’t.
You don’t.
It’s this unspoken understanding between you and him, one that doesn’t need words. He’s smart, too smart sometimes, and maybe that’s why you never have to pretend with him. He doesn’t need you to be warm. He doesn’t need you to be soft, even though he’s the one who brings that side of you out more than anyone else ever could.
But just for today, just for this one moment, you allow yourself to feel the soft spot you’ve carved for Spencer, the one that only he seems to get to touch. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself, a quiet shield against the world.
He notices, of course. He always does. But today, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. He just watches you with a knowing look in his eyes — that look that says he understands you, even when you don’t think anyone can. It’s why you find yourself caring more than you’d like to admit.
The day wears on, the team moves forward, and Spencer remains the same, cool and collected on the outside but slightly less so as he avoids shaking anyone else's hand.
You don’t say anything to him; you don’t need to. You’ve already done what you could. You’ve already taken care of him in the only way you know how — quietly, without fanfare, without needing any thanks or attention for it.
Later that evening, when the team is headed back to the jet, you find yourself walking next to Spencer. The others are further ahead, talking in their usual, easygoing way. But you and Spencer, you keep to the edge, where the silence between you is comfortable, a little less heavy than it was before.
Spencer’s voice breaks the silence. “Hey, I really appreciate what you did back there,” he says softly. You can feel his gaze on you, but you don’t look at him. You keep your eyes forward, as always.
“It’s no big deal,” you reply, your voice indifferent, but there’s a softness in your tone that you can’t completely hide.
Spencer lets out a quiet laugh. “It kind of is, though,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Thank you,”
You don’t respond immediately. You don’t have to. The words hang in the air between you, unspoken, but understood. Maybe you’re not as cold as you pretend to be. Maybe there’s a warmth in you that only Spencer can bring out.
But for now, you don’t need to say anything. It’s enough that you’re here together, walking through the quiet night, your steps synchronised and his fingers brushing against your thigh.
For the first time in a long while, you allow yourself the luxury of imagining what it might be like, to let Spencer all the way in.
But for now, you let him stay at arm’s length, even as your heart warms to the idea.
#cold!reader ᝰ.ᐟ#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fluff#mgg
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too good to me
joel miller x reader
not a lot, just forever universe
summary: you woke up sick and joel takes care of you and clem.
warnings: mentions of sickness and throwing up.
You woke up suddenly, eyelids tired. Your throat felt like it was burning, skin and everything. You jumped out of the bed and almost tripped to your way to the bathroom. You were lucky you even had the time to throw up inside the toilet. Hurried steps were heard behind you, and the light from your hall made contrast with Joel’s large body.
When he found you almost passed out on the bathroom floor, with drool on your mouth, he got closer and grabbed your chin tenderly, cleaning you up with some napkin. “Can you hear me, hon?”
“I think I’m sick” you babbled, without breaking his gaze. “I feel like shit”
"Let me carry you back to be-" Your boyfriend couldn’t finish the sentence, because you vomited again. Joel grabbed your hair so you could be more comfortable. Minutes went by, and your urge to throw up disappeared. As Joel promised, he carried your tired body back to your shared bed.
“Do you need somethin’ else?” He whispered into your ear. You got closer to his touch, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Just you, that’s all”
He smiled at your answer, and after leaving you inside the sheets, he put a warm blanket on top of you. You protested, “Joel, you will be too warm”
“I don’t give two shits about it right now. I only care about you getting better” He responded, getting inside the bed and hugging your back. “You’re too good to me”
A couple of hours later, you woke up with Clementine’s little laughs.
“No, no, baby, come here” Joel was outside the door. “Mommy needs to sleep more”
You smiled, picturing your two-year-old trapped in Joel’s big arms. “You can come in” Your voice sounded weak and dry, but happy somehow. The door opened and hurried tiny footsteps came by your side, jumping on top of the bed. “Morning mommy” Joel came, sitting with your daughter by your side. “You two are going to get sick if you get any closer”
Joel grabbed Clem and put her in his shoulders, and her laughter filled the whole room. “I’m going to take Clem to school, and later I’ll prepare you some soup or something”
You groaned at the thought. “Sounds awesome. Thank you” You said goodbye to your toddler and kissed your partner’s cheek, despite your complaints about you being sick.
The next time you opened your eyes, your head felt less heavy. The smell of soup flooded your nostrils. Joel wasn’t on your sight, and the house was oddly quiet. You finished your soup and walked to the bathroom, just to see it neatly clean. Joel must have cleaned the mess you made last night, you thought.
When Joel came back, he found your sleepy figure sat on the isle of the kitchen. You had tried to complete the shopping list, but your head started to get dizzy again. He laughed, and lifted your body with ease and laid you down to bed again. You woke up just before he could close the door. You called him out softly, your throat dry. He cursed something about waking you up, and he knelt by your side. “Are you better?” He looked worried, almost pouting. It was a beautiful contrast with how he normally looked.
“The soup was amazing, you are amazing. Feel bad you have to do everything today, though”
“Well, don’t be. Maria was delighted to be with Clem for the day. And it wasn’t a big deal, either” You scoffed, “it’s gonna be a big ass deal if I get you sick” Joel shrugged as if it didn’t matter at all. “Ellie asked about you”
Joel swore your eyes brightened with the teen’s name. “What did she say?”
“She bombarded me with questions about how could she help. She actually made - or tried to make - the soup”
“Can’t wait to tell her that was some of the beat soup I’ve ever tried, then” Your boyfriend’s gaze deepened with love, but he hid it and attempted to look offended,“Maybe I did help her a bit”
“You big ol’ softie”
Clementine appeared in your sight, with a colorful drawing. "I draw this for ya" She gave it to you, hiding her face in Joel's chest, a habit she took from you. "So you be good"
You smiled, gasping at the drawing. "It is wonderful, sweets" She then whispered something on Joel's ear, making him laugh. "Clem asks if she can give you a tiny kiss on the cheek"
You frowned, worried about the possibility of passing the fever to your toddler. As if Joel heard your thoughts, he rapidly denied, "she will be fine, she just needs her mum"
"Then I'm happy to help on that" Clementine's sweet lips left a kiss on your hot skin, and as an exchange, you stole her another kiss on her forehead, your daughter laughing at the surprise.
The next morning you woke up tired, but all clear from fever. You extended your arm to Joel’s side, only to find it empty and cold. You looked at the clock: eleven am. With a confused frown, you stood up and searched for your boyfriend, only to find him in the bathroom, grabbing Clementine’s little ponytail. Your daughter was complaining about the mess she was making, but Joel looked as if he couldn't hear her. He looked pale and exhausted, almost as if he hasn’t slept at all. Your head started to think about all the times you kissed them yesterday, even after your warnings.
“Please don’t tell me you two are sick” You said with guilt swimming inside your chest.
Ellie was the one who answered before Joel could, her voice coming from her own bathroom: “we all are!”
You looked at Joel, crossing your arms right beside your chest and lifting your eyebrows. "Told ya"
#joel miller#tlou fanfic#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#joel miller angst#joel miller tlou#pedro pascal#joel miller fluff#joel x reader#joel tlou#joel the last of us#joel miller fanfic
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𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 ─ s.h
pairing(s): steve harrington x reader
summary: four times you were oblivious to steve’s signs, and the one time you weren’t.
word count: 3805
warnings/tags: steve being a big ol' softie in love, signs being shut down, some feelings of embarrassment [ on steve's side ], eddie being oblivious and robin trying to help steve. fluff fluff fluff
𝐈. the first time you were oblivious to steve’s signs… was when steve offered you the passenger seat.
it was the middle of summer, sweltering heat along hawkin’s beach and steve had thoroughly enjoyed the day of watching you interact with the kids. his eyes delicately scanning along your sunglass-covered face as you grin and laugh alongside lucas, playing paddled tennis against robin and max by the edge of the water.
the whole time everyone was there, steve was gawking, not listening to a word anyone had to say as he tries to convince himself to do something about the unbearable crush he had on you. “you gotta do something about this,” mike interrupts, cutting off dustin mid-sentence as steve’s heads currently as high as the clouds – watching an angel.
“what do you mean, wheeler?” asks steve, not turning in his position. eddie was unfocused, tongue sticking out his mouth as he tried to effortlessly roll his cigarette, eleven watching him curiously before replying for her boyfriend, “about your crush on y/n.”
he tried to shrug it off, an ‘i don’t know what you mean’ causing the whole group to grunt in reply. everyone knew he was lying, and steve knew they knew. but his love for you came crashing one day and everything made sense to steve all of a sudden, you were the one for him.
steve got into his head quite easily, but nothing compared to when he noticed you in that way. he couldn’t imagine anyone else in that light but you, this whole idea if he was your boyfriend that he had to mentally slap himself – he wasn’t your boyfriend. because he hadn’t gained the confidence to ask you out.
but steve thought that day was different, that he was ready. robin sat down next to him while you sat next to eddie, resting your head tiredly to his shoulder, “i have a plan,” steve had whispered to his best friend.
the group wave nancy and the young teens off, watching as jonathan holds her hand and the kids all chatter, collecting their bikes to ride home from a chilled day at the beach, high off the fun of it all. steve swings the keyring of his car keys around his finger, with purpose, while walking to his car.
you and robin were a few meters behind, giggling and making fun of the way eddie previously fell in the water – hair blocking his eyes while he looked like a kicked puppy. and steve chuckles along, opening the passenger door and turning towards you, here goes nothing.
“y/n-” steve starts but is immediately cut off with a ‘humph’ as eddie jumps onto his back, hands on either of steve’s shoulders with a heavy push and loud howl of laughter upon successfully scaring steve.
“got ya, harrington! god, you should’ve looked at your face! classic!” steve could smell the smoke off his breath, watching eddie who stands in front of him now, glaring while the brunette was far too close to the front passenger seat than steve would like.
you and robin had stopped talking, now watching the interaction unfold with contained grins. “can i sit here or not?” asks eddie, oblivious to the fact that steve was sweating to ask you. unlike everyone else had shared knowing glances the whole day, eddie munson was the complete opposite.
steve stares over at you, ignoring robin’s widely amused eyes and raised eyebrows waiting on her best friend to answer and cover his tracks. but he just sighs, turning back to eddie and nodding defeatedly, “yeah fine, move it.”
“well, thank you for opening the door for me princess, keep doing stuff like this i might get the wrong idea,” steve was unsure how eddie couldn’t see the steam across steve’s face, nearby missing eddie’s clunky foot while slamming the door shut.
once getting in the car, robin leans over to slap the back of eddie’s head, having ruined steve’s plan. while it wasn’t full proof or obvious, robin still felt for steve. the boy has his head against the steering wheel, contemplating his decisions while eddie curses at robin.
“are you okay?” you ask steve in the oh-so-sweet voice you have, the very one he fell in love with and steve sits up, staring at the beach from his parking space, “don’t you just hate it that there’s not an extra seat up here?” asks steve.
eddie pulls a face at steve while robin only shakes her head knowingly at the stream of tries, while you reply, “i mean yeah? they used to have an extra seat in some cars last decade but i’m not sure it was safe, steve.” and steve can only blush while starting his car.
before steve can ask if you’re okay to be dropped off last, in his final attempt, eddie – now the vein of steve’s life – perks up in the seat that was supposed to be yours, “harrington! could you drop me last? i need to stop off at the record place, the new mötley crüe record is finally out.”
steve refrains slamming his head against the steering wheel once more to save an upcoming concussion.
𝐈𝐈. the second time you were oblivious to steve’s signs… was when he asked you to the movies.
one of the hundreds of reasons steve loved you was the fact you worked in a bakery. an added bonus that it was across the street from family video where he worked. it meant you’d spend your lunch break bringing over spare pastries and heavenly good hot chocolate for him and robin.
it was the best part of steve’s shifts, spent behind counter while robin stocked. or vice versa. it was a boring job, but pays well for working with his best friend. so, robin sits on the dirty hard floor by the comedy section, marking off and updating the comedies of the month while steve doodles on the company notebook, not a customer in sight for the monday afternoon.
a large black inked line covers the page when steve looks up, his hand losing itself when he catches the sight of you – paper bag in one hand, a tray of hot drinks in the other, and a hop in your step. steve swoons utterly and entirely, the smile on your face while opening the shop door enough to make steve harrington’s knees weak and heart thumping in his chest.
“y/n,” he whispers, quietly and pathetically when the bell chimes, the door closing behind you. robin’s head peaks from the side of the aisle, waving at you from her spot, “hey y/n, how’s your day been?”
you wave back at her, before your eyes quickly find steve’s once more – shy grins as you walk to the counter he sits at – placing the paper bag filled with pastries upon it. you were so sweet, how did steve find someone so sweet? how could he not love someone so very sweet?
his inner thoughts cut off, “good! mr. barclay came in today, gave me a new movie recommendation.” you are referring to the sweet old man who comes into the bakery most days, a regular customer who used to shop and read the newspaper with his wife. until one day, it was just him there forward.
“oh yeah? something we’ll have here?” steve asks you, from his spot, eyes simply gleaming. you start unpacking the bakery food while replying, “no, it’s just came into the cinema! so i’ll need to go see it sometime, it sounds really good!”
steve immediately notices his pastry you pick out for him each time, you know him too well. a chocolate croissant and blueberry muffins to pair with. “robin, i brought you both food!” you pipe up, trying to look back to the light brunette who’s lost in the length of movies.
“i’ll be right there!” robin speaks from her spot, hoping steve catches on to her absence.
perfect! steve thinks, now’s my chance!
“say… do you need some company? i’d be happy to go see the movie with you, we could go tonight?” steve tries to sound cool, like most of his player high-school years aren’t completely out the window and he’s embarrassed at how little he’s dated in years after nancy freaking wheeler.
your eyes shine at his, sliding the cup of chocolate towards him as well as the warm pastries you heated up especially for them and steve’s nervous for you to reply.
“i’d love that, stevie!” he huffs a sigh of relief upon your confirmation, it was a date! he was going to take you on a date to the movies tonight, steve’s mind swings with possibility during a beat of silence. what he’d wear, what he’d bring you, snacks he’d buy you both, holding your hand, walking you to your front door.
it doesn’t last too long, as robin stands from her spot, dusting off her brown plaid trousers from the dark dust and you turn to her, “are you free tonight, robs? i should ask eddie and nancy too! i would ask the kids, but it sounded too cheesy for the kids taste? i could phone dustin and see if they would.”
steve’s heart plummets, and robin notices too quickly as she paces towards them, before she could claim she’s not free in order to score steve time with you alone, you’re leaning over steve to grip their work phone and dial the kid’s number.
picking up the chocolate croissant, steve doesn’t even care if there’s a few dotted marks of chocolate around his top lip – sadly eating his food while watching you enthuse of steve’s plan. robin pats his shoulder, sipping her own chocolate drink with sympathy written across her face.
at least steve would still get to spend time with you, even if it wasn’t alone, on what he could’ve made a date.
another time, steve thinks.
𝐈𝐈𝐈. the third time you were oblivious to steve’s signs… was when he offered you his jacket.
a night with everyone had been spent outside eddie’s trailer, or as steve was now calling him – eddie ‘the ruiner’ munson ever since he wedged himself in the seat between you and steve on the cinema night. claiming that he wanted to sit next to you, because you both liked salted popcorn unlike steve’s ‘horrific’ comment on his preference of sweet popcorn.
as the night went on and the sky went a pitch black, despite the summer season the air was cold and breezy throughout hawkin’s. everyone sat in chairs around the fire, steve lucky enough to actually be sat next to you and not listening to munson’s loud chewing.
poor eddie, robin would say again, if she knew what steve was thinking. the guy never did anything wrong, just got in the way of steve’s advances towards you. and sure, maybe they weren’t that obvious, maybe they were stupid ways to show his interest rather than outwardly admitting his feelings and ensuring that when he’s asking you out that it’s a date for just you and him.
not the entirety of his friend group.
you had shivered beneath your sweatshirt, not enough to keep the cold at bay. steve turns away from watching lucas and dustin dummy fight, loud howling laughter overcutting the rock music playing from eddie’s record player in his bedroom – open window allowing the music to travel.
you were beyond beautiful to him. the whole night he had listened to each of the stories you told holding such interest, and even when someone else was telling a story – steve would watch you. your expressions and reactions much more swooning than any story about mike accidentally stealing a bag of candy last week without knowing.
to everyone but you, it was beyond obvious. steve was head over heels for you, and eddie had even played the song ‘head over heels’ by tears for fears to poke fun but the joke backfired on the fact that he owned a tears for fears record.
you were listening to robin and nancy converse, sinking into your seat comfortably while trying to undercut how cold you were that you didn’t notice steve staring once more. watching as you rub your sweatshirt-covered arms for some heat or close your eyes tiredly every so often.
“do you want my jacket?” he leaned over to whisper to you, your dull and achy eyes opening to turn to your best friend – who’s breath is fanning your face, sending an ounce of warmth across you.
“what?” you ask him, a bit out of it and confused at how intense steve stares at you, shivers running across your body you’re not sure if it’s the effects of the temperature or of steve. he chuckles, warmly and kindly, “you’re freezing, i can tell. do you want to wear my jacket?”
you furrow your eyebrows, “but what about you?” you asked, everyone tuning into the conversation with knowing glances and expectant smirks. mike kicking steve’s foot teasingly from his other side, steve kicking him right back.
“i’m fine don’t worry about me, stevie. want to make sure you’re warm too,” you reply and steve wants to crawl into a hole and scream at how unaware you are, or at how stupid he’s being in sending shitty signs.
steve starts to shuffle his jacket off his shoulders, assuring you, “i have a sweater on, trust me, i’ll be fine. here, you can borrow it.” he extends his offer, bomber jacket in his hand and lifted towards you and you stare longingly at the jacket before back up at steve, worried, “no, steve. it’s okay, i swear.”
he’s defeated once again, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable by continuously asking but steve’s unsure how to make his love known when they’re not small loving gestures like this – trying to keep you warm on a cold hawkin’s night.
“i’m freezing over here, stevie,” max cuts in, teasing him while the other kids snicker beside her. steve tears his glance from you and to the redhead, wearing a large smirk and gleaming eyes that steve would complain about later.
“shut it, mayfield.”
but steve chucks the jacket towards max, ignoring the hushed giggles and sympathetic stares as he tries to think about how he could escape this situation, and how he’d go about it next time – maybe when he isn’t in the same space as all his friends but a moment he catches you alone.
he’s willing to try again.
𝐈𝐕. the fourth time you were oblivious to steve’s signs… was when he was blatantly obvious.
“you think it would be weird if you became more than friends with your best friend?” steve had asked into the quiet room, allowing you to easily hear from under his arm. a movie night was in order when robin was out of town, steve had spent lunch with you alone and mustered up the courage to a ‘totally casual not at all terrifying’ movie night where he could try to show you he loved you again.
he immediately regrets his words, way to be subtle harrington, steve thought. he fears he came across too forward and might scare you off from the idea of dating steve harrington, your best friend.
‘some kind of wonderful’ plays on his living-room television, a new friends to lovers movie that steve purposely picked out the romcom section in tune for tonight. he was a little worried, incase you felt overwhelmed by it all and it might affect your friendship that steve was desperate to make something more.
you take another handful of the bowl of salted popcorn sitting atop steve’s lap, and steve looks down to you when you begin to reply, your eyebrows are furrowed but you look far from offended or scared by his comment, “you’re my best friend, steve?”
both of you knew he was, and had been for the past few years of previously fighting inter-dimensional monsters in order to save hawkin’s and their own lives. it was hard not to be when steve was one to protect you from danger, or when you cleaned him up every time he was knocked around pretty bad.
you were both there for each other, not knowing whether it was friendly or something more.
“i wouldn’t find it weird,” steve’s blatant in his reply, you could probably hear his thumping heart, his head feels light-headed from his comment as he swoons and debates over what you might respond. god, he hoped you understood what he was getting at.
your eyebrows relax, eyes still scanning the artificial screen before humming, leaning back into steve’s side. your arms tighten him in a squeeze around his waist and follow the plot of the movie, head against his chest.
you hummed. that’s it. not a thought into what he just said as you focus on the movie ahead, he knew it wasn’t intentional of you and gets defeated once more – if he’s blatantly obvious what more could he do?
steve’s head lobs against the back of his couch, out of your eyeline while he holds in a groan. shot down once again. steve wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. the white ceiling posing as much more interesting than the tv screen as the pair of friends finally get together, steve was far too jealous of the characters to look.
he was willing to try one more time in an attempt to make a move.
𝐕. the one time you were not oblivious to steve’s signs… was when he wasn’t trying.
steve had nearly given up on trying. his next option was to tell you he loved you and that’s that. if you reciprocated then that was amazing, but steve feared for his found friendship with you – he wasn’t sure he was willing to risk that.
you were aware of steve’s closing ‘move’. his all-time move had been discussions around girls at school, you overheard during gym – watching as steve excels at track performance – as girls whisper to one another ‘steve did his move last night, can you believe it?’
you’d also heard steve tell his friends, he’d told robin of it before while you were around – steve thinking you were listening to nancy’s discussion. or when he had advised eddie of his move when eddie scored a date, that it ‘never failed’ as his closing date routine.
so when steve walked you to your door after dropping you off from a night at his, the last stop after eleven’s, you were unaware that steve was contemplating whether to tell you he loved you or not.
it was running around steve’s head, this could be the moment that made or broke your relationship with him. depending on how you felt. steve was too in his head, debating with his inner thoughts.
you unlocked the door before turning to steve, either of you facing one another and you could tell steve’s head was elsewhere. “steve,” you assure, breaking him from his reverie – his eyes go wide and glance at you when you continue, “thank you for tonight.”
all thoughts leave his head, “oh, yeah-yeah, of course. thank you for coming, y/n.” before you knew it, steve’s arm was stretched beside you, his hand landed on the wall behind you. almost closing you in, an attempt to continue the conversation.
however, before steve can start, you’re gasping loudly. the sight of steve’s arm beside you and his eyes staring down at yours making your head feel woozy and overwhelmed, “steve!” you gasp again.
your best friend’s eyebrows are furrowed, utterly confused by your reaction when he hadn’t even said anything. “what’s wrong?” he asks, lips parted in an attempt to form more words, however, all more sentences fade him when he watches how shocked you are.
“your move!”
steve’s head lobs forward, ushering you to continue as a feeling quite similar to mortified seeps through his veins. “that’s what you do on the girls you date! the move! why are you doing that?” you ask him, he could tell you were embarrassed yourself – feet shuffling as you awaited his answer.
steve’s whole face feels warm and he’s sure despite the dark night – you could see the entirety of his red face as embarrassment settles into the pit of his stomach.
“that’s what you noticed? you noticed this lame move?” steve’s loud and amused by the fact before admitting his love for you – you notice the uncool move he used to pull on dates. not the offer of his passenger seat all the way to him blatantly stating he wouldn’t mind being more than friends.
he never expected to pull that move, you meant more to him than the lame end-of-date attempt he used to try on girls he liked. because it was you, and you were much more to him.
steve was unequivocally in love with you, and he hadn’t been so in love before. so why would he try his odd hand pose in order to scoop you up and swoon you when he could offer a jacket or blatantly ask you out instead.
“what do you mean?” you ask steve, unsure of what he’s getting at. as if there was more to it than his old school move. he chuckles, shuffling so his arm is back by his side, but now steve has moved a step closer to you that the brown hazel in his eyes are more apparent, shining down at you.
“honey, i’ve been try to tell you for months now how much i’m in love with you.” your mouth gapes, the corners threatening to pull upwards in a smile as you choke, “w-what?” your hand settles on his chest, stepping closer to him.
and by your reaction steve is less scared, you’re not running down the street or slamming the door on his face – only moving closer and smiling up at him. and steve only falls in love more in that moment, “you love me?”
steve eyes scan your face after your question, and you watch as they do, so delicate and sweet like the steve you have always known but now here he is, confessing that he loves you and it’s all tying together and the possibilities seem endless all of a sudden.
“aw, c’mere already,” steve states, breaking the small gap between you both as a kiss settles to your lips. his hand is at the small of your back, pulling you closer to him as he bids not to let you go. your hands reach up to his face, in disbelief you’re kissing steve harrington, your best friend, your touch to his cheeks brings you back to earth.
you weren’t so oblivious anymore, steve thought, glad the whole ordeal’s over as he smiles against your lips, never wanting to pull away.
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#➵ amorchai works ౨ৎ#stranger things ⁑ steve harrington ᡣ𐭩#steve harrington#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x you#steve harrington imagine#stranger things#eddie munson#robin buckley
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tornado warnings. | h.h
Series Masterlist
'don't understand how quickly we get right back in our rhythm without missing a step'
— hyunjin x (f) reader
— word count: 2.9k (unedited)
— genre: non-idol au, artist!hyunjin, second chance romance. dance coach!reader
— warning's: fluff, some sort of angst, hyune is a big ole softie, dancing and painting! flashback! at one point! - italics signal start/finish of the flashback.
→ playlist on spotify
The quiet sniffles you couldn't quite stop echoed off the cramped walls, making the small space feel even tighter. The faint light from outside filtered through the slats of the door, casting shadows that danced across Hyunjin's face. His brows were furrowed, the same way they were that night, years ago, before he left. The same expression which haunted you ever since.
You hugged your arms around yourself, a futile attempt to hold together whatever was left of your heart. The air felt thick, but it wasn't the silence that weighed most heavily—it was his gaze, steady and unwavering, locked on you.
"Let me paint you." His voice was soft, but there was a firm steadiness behind the words. His hands found your shoulders and slowly, he began to move his palms in soothing strokes, gliding up and back down to the curve of your arms.
You blinked, the weight of the suggestion taking a moment to settle. "What?"
He took a slow breath, his gaze softening as he spoke again. "Dancing," he clarified, his voice quieter this time, searching your eyes for some sign of understanding. "Let me paint you when you're dancing."
You stared at him, still reeling from his words, and blinked again, as if the request hadn't fully landed. "Now?" The word escaped before you could stop it, laced with disbelief and a growing knot in your stomach.
His lips curved into a faint smile, the kind that tugged at the corners of his mouth but didn’t quite reach his eyes. “My supplies are in the car. It’ll take me a minute to grab them—I came straight from my apartment.”
His makeshift studio. That's what his old place had moulded into, you remember the shock when you first entered his apartment all those years ago. His creativity flowed around the space, filling every area.
Your breath hitched, and you stared at him, your tear-streaked face shifting from disbelief to something softer, something more vulnerable. “Hyune…” you started, voice trembling as you wiped hastily at your cheeks. “Why?”
Hyunjin's gaze flickered, dropping momentarily to the floor before meeting yours again, unflinching. “Because it’s you,” he admitted quietly, his tone laced with both tenderness and frustration.
Your breath wavered, and you glanced away, your hand brushing against the shelves to steady yourself. The closet felt even smaller, the tension amplifying the closeness of his body. You could feel the heat radiating from him and the weight of his words settling.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You shook off his hands, retreating from his warm touch.
“Just dance,” he urged gently, tilting his head. “You don’t have to explain anything or say anything else. Let me see you the way I remember—free, fearless. The way you’ve always been to me.”
The words hung in the air between you, heavy and impossibly tender. You shook your head, fingers fumbling for the handle of the storage room door. The small space suddenly felt too close, the walls pressing in, the air thick with memories and emotions you weren’t ready to face.
“Hyune…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to steady yourself. “I’m worse than I was two years ago.”
“Bullshit.” His response was immediate, raw, and unfiltered. His hand shot out, but he didn’t touch you—just hovered. “You’ve always been beautiful when you dance.”
You froze, torn between the urge to leave and the pull of his words. They weren’t just flattery; they carried the weight of someone who had seen you at your most vulnerable and still thought you were enough.
“It’s not the same anymore,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not the same anymore.” You pressed your forehead against the door, hand resting on the handle.
Hyunjin took a step closer, brushing your hair over one shoulder, his breath hot on your neck. “Neither am I,” he admitted, his voice softening. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t still find pieces of ourselves in the things we used to love.”
You turned your head away, turning to stare at him and met his dark eyes, searching yours with a quiet intensity. You wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that you could step back into that version of yourself—even for just a moment—but fear kept your feet rooted.
“Do it for yourself,” he urged, his tone gentle yet firm. “Not for anything else. Just to prove to yourself that the passion is still there. I’ll prove it if I have to.”
Your gaze flickered back to his, and for a moment, you saw a glimmer of the young boy you once knew. Filled with ambition and love—hopeful, determined, unwavering. It was that look that finally unraveled your resolve. You nodded slowly. "Okay."
It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it was something—a step forward.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, and as he turned to leave, the closet door creaked open, flooding the small space with light. For a moment, you stood there in the glow.
There was one routine you could never perfect. The thought of it lingered in your mind as you stood in the small storage room, the air heavy with anticipation. You’d refused to show him back then—too afraid of his critique, too wrapped up in the fear of falling short in his eyes. It was a piece that demanded every ounce of your vulnerability, and though you’d spent hours practicing, it always felt incomplete, like a part of you couldn’t fully let go.
Now, as you stood in the quiet space, his words echoed around you—Just dance. Both a plea and a challenge. You bit your lip, remembering the way he used to watch you, his gaze filled with awe and admiration that made you feel like the most captivating thing in the world. But that routine? That one? You weren’t sure if you could ever let him see it.
His apartment was a world of its own, chaotic and creative. The wooden floors, dotted with splatters of dried paint, remnants of his restless artistry, and the scent of acrylic paint mingled with something warm and familiar—him. The cluttered space had every surface occupied by canvases, brushes, and jars of mixed pigments. Yet it felt like a sanctuary, a place where the two of you could escape the world outside.
You had the place to yourself that afternoon. He’d stepped out to pick up supplies, and you’d been left with the low hum of music drifting from his old speaker. It was quiet enough that you could hear your own heartbeat as you moved through the space, practicing the routine which haunted you for weeks.
You kept it small, careful not to knock over anything in the cramped room. Your steps were tentative at first, your bare feet avoiding the splattered paint on the floor as you moved through the motions. The melody guided you, soft and lilting, and for a moment, you felt yourself relax into it.
The rhythm built, and so did your confidence. Your arms extended gracefully, your movements fluid, but just as you reached for the next step, a sudden sound shattered your focus.
“Y/N?”
His voice startled you so badly that you stumbled. Whirling around, you saw Hyunjin standing in the doorway, a bag of supplies in one hand and a look of surprise etched on his face.
“I—uh…” Words failed you as you tried to recover, your cheeks burning.
He stepped inside, setting the bag down by the door and tilting his head. “Were you dancing?”
“No,” you blurted, too quickly. “I mean…maybe.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up in a knowing smile as he crossed the room, his footsteps deliberate and slow. “I’ve never seen that routine before.”
You took a step back, suddenly feeling exposed. “It’s nothing. Just something I’ve been working on.”
“It didn’t look like nothing.” Hyunjin stopped a few feet away, his dark eyes scanning you with a quiet curiosity. “Why haven’t you shown me?”
You shrugged, trying to play it off, but your voice betrayed you. “It’s not ready.”
“Y/N…” He said your name like a gentle reprimand, and you hated how it made your heart flutter. “You know you don’t have to be perfect, right? Not with me.”
You looked away, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively. “It’s not about that. It’s…personal.”
His gaze softened, and for a moment, he just stood there, letting the quiet stretch between you. “Okay,” he said finally, his tone light but laced with understanding. “But when you’re ready, I want to see it. Deal?”
You nodded, your cheeks still flush. He grinned then, leaning down to grab a stray brush from the floor. “Until then, try not to knock over my masterpieces, yeah?”
You laughed despite yourself, the sound breaking the tension, and for the first time, you thought that maybe, just maybe, he might be right—you didn’t have to be perfect. Not with him.
You drew on the memory, letting it guide you as you stepped back into the quiet studio. The familiar hum of the fluorescent lights above was your only accompaniment—no music this time. You didn’t need it.
Closing your eyes, you allowed the choreography to unfurl in your mind. The steps came to you effortlessly, muscle memory born from years of painstaking practice. Your feet slid across the floor with precision, each movement sharp yet fluid, honed by relentless determination. Your arms extended, fingers brushing the air with the grace you worked so hard to master.
But then, there it was—that twinge. A sharp, nagging ache radiated from your lower back, a reminder of the battles you’d fought with your own body. It begged you to stop, to rest, but you refused to listen. Gritting your teeth, you pushed through it, defying the pain with every deliberate step.
This wasn’t about comfort or ease. It was about proving to yourself that you still could. That you were still the person who poured everything into perfecting this routine, who sacrificed hours to feel this freedom. You moved with purpose, each gesture carrying the weight of years of frustration and triumph.
A soft crack echoed through the room, drawing your attention to the doorway. Hyunjin stepped inside, his arms laden with supplies—tubes of paint precariously balanced against his chest, a few brushes gripped in one hand, and a smaller easel tucked under his arm. One stray brush was clamped between his teeth, and his brows furrowed in intense concentration as he maneuvered through the narrow space of the studio.
You froze mid-movement, watching him struggle. "Do you need any help?" you asked, tilting your head, watching as he shifted his load onto the floor with a clatter that made you wince.
He waved you off, shaking his head. "I got it, don't worry."
"I know what I want to show you," you replied, your voice quiet but certain. You gestured to the space ahead of you, moving toward an open corner. "But no music this time. Just me."
Hyunjin’s brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his face before it softened into something warmer. "That’s good enough for me," he murmured, "Always has been."
Hyunjin glanced up at you then, his lips curving into the faintest smile. His fingers worked deftly, setting up the easel with care, mirroring the intent in his gaze. A lightness bloomed in your chest as you turned back to focus. Contemporary dance. Your first love.
"Alright. I'm ready for you to begin."
You glanced over your shoulder at him, his posture straight and focused as he sat by the easel. The brush was poised in his hand, ready but unmoving, his gaze fixed on you with a quiet intensity that sent a shiver through you. The light in the room was soft, spilling from the overhead fixture and pooling on the floor, casting faint golden hues across the space. His eyes held a weight, a mixture of curiosity and something deeper.
Your breath hitched as nerves bubbled up in your stomach, but you willed them away, replacing them with resolve. It was now or never. You took a deep breath and stepped into the middle of the room. Slowly, your body began to move, each gesture deliberate yet fluid, the years of muscle memory guiding you. The first step was cautious, testing the waters, but soon the rhythm of your own breath became the only music you needed. The routine came alive beneath your feet, a blend of smooth transitions and sharp accents. Emotions. Rage and sadness.
The quiet in the room was almost sacred, amplifying every small sound. The brush of your feet against the polished floor, the faint creak of the wooden boards beneath you, and—most prominently—the rhythmic whisper of Hyunjin's paintbrush against the canvas. An intimate symphony, the strokes soft and deliberate, capturing each moment of your dance as emotion radiated from you.
You risked a glance at him mid-spin, your hair catching the light and fanning around you. His eyes never wavered from you, intense and focused, as though he were painting not just your form but the your soul. The way his hand moved across the canvas, fluid and confident, matched the rhythm of your steps, a silent conversation between the two of you.
For a moment, you forgot the weight of the past and the scar that marred your body and heart. Here, in this space, under his watchful eye, you were free.
The cool wooden floor greeted your bare feet with each step, grounding you as your arms swept through the air, fingertips grazing the light as though pulling it into your orbit. You spun, the hem of your loose shirt fluttering in the motion, and leapt, the kind of leap that made you feel weightless for just a moment before gravity pulled you back.
Soft shadows on the walls shifted with your turns. The air, alive and electrified by the energy you poured into the space. While the tension in your back, a lingering reminder of old battles with your body, tugged at you briefly, but you ignored it. The pain, now distant, insignificant compared to the freedom in the dance.
You glanced at him once more, expecting his focus to have faltered, but there he was—still, silent, his gaze following every movement like he was capturing it all with his eyes before his brush could.
Your movements grew bolder, the routine pulling you further into its world. It was no longer just a dance; it was a conversation, one which demanded honesty in every step and flourish.
You finished the routine, your arms extended and chest rising with with deep breaths. The quiet hum of the room was broken only by the faint scrape of Hyunjin setting down his brush. When you turned to face him, his expression was unreadable, a mix of awe and something softer, something heavier.
“That was the routine you were too scared to show me?” His voice was quiet, reverent almost. His eyes glimmered with an emotion you couldn’t quite place—something between curiosity and longing—and it sent a fresh wave of unease through you.
You hesitated, then nodded.
Hyunjin tilted his head, his dark eyes searching yours. “Why didn’t you show me before?”
You hesitated, wrapping your arms around yourself as if bracing for his reaction. “The surgery didn’t work,” you whispered, the words fragile, like glass. “The progress reversed.”
Realization dawned on his face, and he leaned forward slightly. “The scar…”
You nodded again, avoiding his gaze. “I know I never really talked about it. I felt ashamed. I still do. It’s part of why I struggle so much with dancing now. My body doesn’t feel the same anymore. That’s why I teach instead of being on stage.”
His expression shifted, softening in a way which made your chest ache. “Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret, “why didn’t you tell me?”
“We stopped talking,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. “No more daily updates or check-ins. I knew we were both busy, and… it was for the best. I had to learn to heal on my own, away from you.”
“I should’ve stayed,” he sighed, the weight of his guilt pressing down on the room.
“How were you supposed to know, Hyune? I didn’t expect that of you.” You stared at the wooden floor beneath you, kicking your foot against it.
“It doesn’t matter.” Hyunjin's jaw tightened. “I should’ve been here. You were struggling, and so was I. The only difference is that we were apart.”
You let out a bitter laugh, your lips curling into a faint, sad smile. “Recipe for disaster, so it seems.”
He patted the wooden floor beside him. “Come sit.”
You hesitated, but his gaze held a quiet insistence, so you crossed the room and sat down next to him, the faint scent of paint lingering in the air.
“What are you going to call this one?” you asked, nodding toward the canvas.
“Mon Claire de Lune,” he said softly, his eyes flickering to yours. “My moonlight.”
You froze, the meaning of his words sinking in, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned your head on his shoulder. He stiffened at first, the tension radiating from him like static, but then he relaxed, his body shifting slightly to accommodate yours.
For the first time in years, the silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full—of everything you left unsaid.
[Tag List] @nujeskz @myfavoritedelusion
#stray kids#stray kids smut#skz scenarios#hwang hyunjin#skz fanfic#stray kids fics#skz imagines#skz fluff#skz smut#stray kids imagines#hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin x reader#hyunjin stray kids#hyunjin#hwang hyunjin x you#hyunjin x you#hyunjin x y/n#skz x reader#skz hyunjin#stray kids angst#stray kids fluff#stray kids fic#stray kids fanfic#stray kids x reader#hyunjin x readers#hwang hyunjin fic#hwang hyunjin smut#hwang hyunjin fluff#hwang hyunjin skz#hwang hyunjin stray kids
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Better For You
Yoongi x Reader
Summary: When Yoongi admits to feeling jealous about you spending so much time with Hobi, you end up making a slightly accidental confession.
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings: +18 Mdni, smut, oral(m. rec), marking, unprotected sex(don’t that pls), Yoongi being a big ol softie
A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! As I mentioned yesterday, this was supposed to go up last night, but I got distracted with the ship game and didn’t get to finish editing it. Also, this ended up being waay longer than I intended cause I got carried away again(sorry not sorry?) Idk, they’re in love, your honor
Masterlist
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As you let yourself into your apartment, you stopped short at the sight of an extra, much larger pair of shoes by the door, confusion flickering through your mind for a second before relaxing, a smile creeping across your face as you set your things down, recognizing the shoes as belonging to your boyfriend.
You had given Yoongi a key to your place a few weeks back, deciding it was the easiest solution to his chronically late hours at the studio and his insistence on sleeping next to you most nights.
Now, he could let himself in whenever he got there, and you had quickly become used to his sudden appearances in your apartment, rolling over during the night and finding him sound asleep next to you never failed to bring a tiny smile to your face.
As you wandered through the house in search of him, you started to hear the faint sound of the shower running in the master bathroom, his bag and jacket on the chair by your bed.
While you waited for him to finish up in the shower, you decided to swap out of your town clothes and into something more comfortable, opting for some pajama shorts and one of Yoongi’s tshirts he’d ‘accidentally’ left for you to wear.
As you were pulling the shirt over your head, you heard the bathroom door open behind you, a pair of arms immediately snaking their way around your waist, his scent filling your senses instantly making all the tension in your body vanish as you leaned back into his hold.
“Hi.” Yoongi mumbled, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“Hey.” You chuckled, turning in his hold to face him. “I didn’t think you’d be here this early, I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”
“Nah, I went to wash up as soon as I got here, missed you tho.” He mumbled, placing the faintest kiss on your lips, pulling you along in a tired hug as he walked backwards to the bed, settling you on his lap. “Where were you off to today? I thought it was your day off?”
“It is, I just went for lunch with Hobi, and then we ended up doing some shopping as well.” You said, leaning down to connect your lips with his. As you kissed him though, you noticed that his movements suddenly became a bit hesitant, following your lead almost automatically.
Pulling back, you could tell something was on his mind, Yoongi’s gaze avoiding your own as he pressed his lips together, an expression you’d seen enough to know something was definitely bothering him.
“What’s wrong?” You asked gently.
“Nothing, ‘m fine.” He said unconvincingly.
“Yoongs?” You pressed, studying him carefully.
He sighed. “It’s nothing, seriously.”
“It’s clearly not nothing, not if it’s bothering you this much.” You shifted on his lap, looping your arms over his shoulders to rub the back of his neck soothingly. He instinctively leaned into your touch, but said nothing.
“Baby please, talk to me.” You encouraged, using the petname you knew he had a weak spot for.
He fiddled with the hem of your shorts as he thought for a long moment, still not meeting your eyes when he finally spoke.
“You’re always with Hobi.” He mumbled.
You frowned. “I thought you liked me being friends with him?”
“I do, it’s just,” He sighed. “I don’t know, it’s like you’re just always together, and you always seem so happy with him, and I know it’s stupid, but it makes me feel a little…” His voice trailed off.
“Jealous?” You offered.
He nodded, glancing up at you.
“Baby,” You leaned in, kissing over his face as you spoke. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I do like spending time with Hobi, but it’s nothing compared to how much I love being with you.”
“I know, I just get those stupid thoughts sometimes that maybe someone like him would be better for you.” He said, voice growing quieter as he spoke.
“Yoongi,” You said seriously, cupping his face as you spoke. “There is not a single person in this world better suited for me than you, you hear? You don’t have anything to worry about, I love you far too much for anyone else to ever take your place.”
Yoongi’s eyes went wide as they flicked up to meet yours, fully meeting your gaze at last as you realized what you’d said.
Despite having been together as long as you had, neither of you had yet to say those three words out loud.
“You love me?” He asked, looking up at you softly.
You felt your cheeks heat up slightly at your sudden admission, but you nodded, trying to ignore your feelings of self-consciousness. “Of course I do. You're everythi-”
Your words were cut off by Yoongi’s lips crashing against yours, kissing you hard enough to take your breath away.
Your hands flew back to his shoulders in an attempt to steady yourself as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip to elicit a surprised gasp from you and allowing him to delve into your mouth, swirling his tongue around yours before you had to pull back for air. Even then though, his lips never left you, trailing down over your jaw and neck, leaving wet kisses in his wake.
“I love you too.” He breathed, laving over your skin with his tongue before sucking a mark below your ear. “God, I fucking love you so much.”
Your hips twitched forward involuntarily at his ministrations, making you aware of his growing bulge pressing against your core. You rolled your hips again, making him let out a soft grunt against your lips as his grip on your hips tightened and urged you on, the few layers of clothes between you creating just enough friction to make your mind go fuzzy with need.
You knew you could easily make yourself cum from this if you kept going, but you had other plans.
You pulled back, slipping your hand down between your bodies to palm at him over his shorts, making him let out a low growl against your lips, twitching against your hand before you pulled away again, sliding off his lap and settling between his knees.
Glancing up at him for permission, which he gave with a weak nod, you quickly tugged his shorts down enough to let his cock spring free, tip already flushed and dripping precum.
Wasting no time, you wrapped a hand around him tightly, pumping his length as you leaned down to give him a few kitten licks before sinking your mouth down on him, making his eyes roll back.
“Fuck, Y/n.” He groaned loudly, gripping the sheets beneath him tightly as you began to bob your head, setting a pace that quickly had him bucking up into your mouth.
You looked up at him again, watching closely as he lost himself in the feeling of you, the sight making you press your thighs together to try and ease the growing ache between them.
Just as you felt him beginning to tense, nearing his release, his hands suddenly gripped yours, tugging your hair to stop your movements as his dark eyes burned into yours. “I need to be inside you, please.”
Heat flooding your stomach at his words, you nodded, quickly climbing back to your feet.
You tried to straddle him again, but Yoongi flipped you over so he was now hovering over you, grinding his hips into yours teasingly and making you whine as your head fell back against the pillows.
“So pretty, always so pretty for me.” He mumbled, making his way down your front, leaving teasing kisses down your chest and tummy as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your shorts, yanking them and your underwear down in the same motion.
“Such a pretty pussy.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your mound, making you shudder at the feeling of his hot breath ghosting over where you needed him most. “And it’s all mine.”
He traced a finger between your folds, making your jolt at the sudden stimulation.
“Always so wet for me.” He smirked, spreading your arousal around as he toyed with your clit.
“Yoongi,” You whispered, feeling increasingly desperate. “Please.”
He only teased you for a moment before climbing back up and settling over you, bracing one hand by your head as he used the other to position himself at your entrance.
“Ready?” He asked in a breathless tone.
You nodded. “Yes, just please!”
In one swift motion, he slid inside you, making you both moan as he stretched you out. Once he was fully sheathed inside of you, he paused to let you adjust, staring down at you with absolute adoration.
“I love you.” He breathed, slowly drawing his hips back and thrusting into you, making you cry out.
His words and kisses were soft, but there was an edge of desperation to his movements, thrusting deep and hard, angling his hips to hit that spot that had your back arching off the bed as you repeated his name like a mantra.
“Say it again.” He groaned, struggling to keep his pace as he neared his high.
“Wha-?” You whined, mind hazy with the feeling of his cock dragging against your sensitive walls.
“Say it again, please!” He gasped, the earlier hints of desperation bleeding into his voice and clearing your head just enough to understand, pulling him close so your lips were almost touching.
“I love you.” You whispered.
He pounded into you even harder, making you cry out from the almost overwhelming pleasure as the coil inside you wound tighter and tighter.
Feeling you start to twitch and clench around him, Yoongi quickly slipped a hand down between you to rub frantically at your clit, making your whole body shake as you teetered on the edge.
“Cum for me, please!” He begged.
At his words, the coil snapped, your vision going white as heat coursed through you, spasming in his hold, the only sound able to escape from you a choked whine.
Feeling you cum around him was all he needed to hit his high as well, thrusting messily into you a few more times before burying himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he painted your insides with his release.
Exhausted, he half-collapsed on top of you, catching himself on his elbows before fully falling on top of you.
“Are you okay?” You asked,
“Yeah, ’m fine.” He laughed, trying to catch his breath. “I’m great actually.”
He propped his chin on your chest, smiling up at you tiredly. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” You grinned, combing your fingers through his hair, feeling your heart twist as you looked at him. You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve him.
You both lay quietly for a bit, basking in the peace of the moment as your breathing returned to normal. After a few minutes, he moved to pull out, but you stopped him, making him glance up at you in question.
“Stay,” You murmured sleepily. “I wanna stay close to you.”
Smiling softly at your half-sleeping state, he nodded. “I’ll stay as close as you want.”
Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz
#yoongi smut#yoongi scenarios#yoongi fluff#yoongi x y/n#yoongi x reader#yoongi drabble#yoongi oneshot#bts one shot#bts smut#bts drabble#bts x y/n#bts x reader#bts requests#7ndipity
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Jaskier has been captured by Geralt’s enemies!
Said enemies feed the bard a compelling truth potion, and they command him to “tell them about Geralt of Rivia”.
Now, Jaskier knows he cannot resist the truth potion; however, he doesn’t need to. Jaskier is a master of broad interpretation, an admirer of Geralt for the past 15 years, and a professional in turning small details into narratives.
He launches into the useless ramble to end all useless rambles.
The drink they’d forced down Jaskier’s throat left his tongue tingling, the strange sensation creeping up into his brain like a sluggish fog.
“Tell me everything about Geralt of Rivia,” his captor demanded, his tone sharp with impatience.
“Geralt?” Jaskier drawled, his words slurring together like a drunkard’s. “Oh, he’s *pretty.* Doesn’t believe it, of course, but he’s positively radiant. My handsome witcher.”
“That’s not what I meant,” the man growled, leaning closer with a scowl. “Try again, bard.”
Jaskier blinked slowly, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Well, Geralt’s a softy, really. Pretends he’s all gruff and stoic, but deep down? Big ol’ teddy bear.” He swayed forward conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Wanna hear a secret?”
The man hesitated before inching closer, his curiosity overriding his irritation.
Jaskier smirked, lowering his voice even further. “One time, Geralt saw a newborn foal. He got so happy, I swear he nearly cried.”
#the witcher netflix#the witcher#joey batey#geralt of rivia#jaskier the witcher#henry cavill#the witcher jaskier#geralt x jaskier#geraskier#fic ideas#ask me whatever#asks#send asks#send me asks#anon ask#ask answered#answered asks#ask box#ask me anything#ask#jaskier#gerskier#cirilla fiona elen riannon#freya allan#headcanon#yennefer of vengerberg#the witcher season 3#the witcher season three#anya chalotra
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Hello!! Love your writing. Not sure if you are doing requests, but ANYTHING Logan Howlett x Plus Size reader would be awesome 💗🤩
fem!plus size reader, wc: 582.
a/n: THIS IS SICKENINGLY SWEET OH MY GOODNESS. maybe this may seem out of character to some people, but in my opinion, I think logan is a big ol' softie.
cw! mentions of knarly injuries and stitches + mentions of a needle.
Okay yes, Logan might be brooding, and emo and mysterious but God forbid that you actually get hurt, because this man would lose his shit (in less than dignified words).
Let’s say metaphorically you go out on a mission and when you come back, you’re a little worse for wear. You already know by the time you make it to the clinical room Logan would have raised hell on his path there.
You have a few seconds of silence as you sit down on the medical table before you cringe at the sound of Logan’s voice booming down the hall. Jean gives you a look and all you can do is sigh exasperatedly.
You love him, you really do, but your head hurts and so does your side, which has been gracefully exposed to the open air, a less than preferable gash ripped through your skin. You’re trying really hard not to look at it - or even think about it - rather focusing on the Wolverine who’s now glaring at you.
“The hell happened?”
“Wow Logan, I can really feel the love.”
He gives you a look that makes the next bite of sarcasm die in the back of your throat. Instead, you replace it with another fruitless sigh.
“Big nasty metal thing,” You say with a wave of your hand, “‘Was just throwing shit at people and I got hit with a nice piece of shrapnel, but I’m good.”
“Good? You call being cut up like that good?”
“I really don't want to fight right now, Wolvie.” You pinch the space between your eyes. He softens ever so slightly at the intimate nickname and it doesn't take a mutation to know that the extra presence of your peers wasn't needed.
“Just let me stitch you up and I'll leave you guys to talk.” Jean says, already tweeding the thread through the needle. You wince, sparing a glance at the redhead before reaching Logan's eyes once more.
“This is going to fucking suck.” You grimace.
Taking the hint, Logan walks and hops onto the bed as gently as he can so as to not jostle you. He doesn't speak when he takes your hand in his, squeezing it ever so slightly in a show of alliance.
When Jean gets started you force yourself not to look, turning your head to bury it in Logan’s burly shoulder, breathing in his cigar scent stained flannel. It’s comforting to say the least, and it’s the only thing keeping you from passing out. The worst part was the numbing needle really.
“Alright, I’m done.” She says, slipping the medical gloves off and throwing them away.
When you make eye contact with her, she gives you a knowing look. “I’ll leave you to it.”
The room is silent for a moment before he speaks. “What were you thinking?” It’s a petulant grumble, and you smile fondly. “It wasn’t like I actively tried to get myself hurt, you know.”
He sighs, and pulls away from you so he can cradle your cheek.
“You’re gonna be the death of me one day, you know that?”
You laugh out loud, leaning forward to rest your forehead on his. “I guess you’re just going to have to keep up with me then, old man.” You tease. He smirks, “Old man? Really?”
“Mhm.” You nod with a grin. Logan places a sweet, long peck onto your lips.
“Maybe I’ll just handcuff you to the bed.”
You snort, “I’d like to see you try.”
#✰ ― meau's inbox !#logan x reader#logan howlett x reader#logan fanfiction#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett#james howlett#logan howlett angst#logan howlett fluff#logan howlett hurt/comfort#logan howlett x plus size reader#plus size reader#x plus size reader#x chubby reader#plus size!reader#chubby reader#fanfiction#angst#fluff#hurt/comfort#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett oneshot#logan howlett drabble#logan howlett blurb#logan xmen#logan howlett xmen#xmen#wolverine#xmen fanfiction#wolverine fanfiction
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i’ve been thinking about that cutscene bit where wukong is tightening the red ropes around his upper-arm armour and u know what? i think it’s likely that his partner would eventually tighten it in passing as a domestic/affectionate thing but then it makes a 💡💥❗️in his head where he’s like “wait….. what if we both only did eachother’s clothes up each morning” and now he’s intent on having his lover be the one to fiddle his armour/court clothes on perfectly or he “wakes up on the wrong side of the bed”
this also leads to him getting huffy if his partner does up their hanfu/hairdo before he can do it for them. all links into monkey grooming habits i think
Yes! I agree with this!!!!!!!!
I feel like at first it would be new to him as far as someone helping him with his armor that isn’t like, a general or something. So you suddenly doing it one day in passing is like the biggest “ah ha!” Moment.
You doing it is a whole other level of intimacy and he LOVES it. Loves watching you focus on your task and enjoys watching your face while you do it. Hes gonna be SO SOFT for it. Would definitely make sure his armor is out of place when he sees you so you’ll help fix it or he messes up his fur, again so you’ll help fix it. You eventually con on to it but don’t spoil his fun by telling him. Might even be a bit dramatic about it and pretend he’s too sore to reach up and tighten the strings etc. you are his go to if he genuinely needs to make sure he looks immaculate.
He’s also going to want to be the one to help you, he’s gonna learn how to do your hair no matter what kind you have. He’s gonna LEARN. Same with your clothes. He know how to take them off so why not learn how to help you into them?? Enjoys for once being soft and tender, the fact that he can be that way with you is special. Because with you in these moments he’s not “The Monkey King” or “The Great Sage” he’s just YOUR monkey. Your Wukong.
He thrives on the quiet intimate moments of you guys helping each other dress or get ready be it for bed, social stuff, fights, or just a regular day. Will definitely rush through something in the morning if it means getting back before you wake up so he can help you.
Every time you take matters into your own hands and he’s available/near he’s gonna be sooooooo pouty about it. Because he wanted to help. It’s his privilege.
Grooming is a form of showing care/bonding for his kind and it just constantly reaffirms your commitment and bond with him. So he’s gonna be huffy when you take it away from him when he is home/around.
Will wait for you (if he can, we know things happen sometimes and things can’t wait) to help him too.
This goes for bathing too 🫶 he will bathe without you and you him but if it can be helped you do it together.
He’s just a big ol softy and melts for these kinda things.
He’d pretend in front of others that he’s not but they can tell with how grumpy he gets, staring at your hair that you did by yourself that morning, he might purposely mess it up so he can redo it. Or maybe you bathed without him and now he’s trying to figure out how to get you back into the bath.
#black myth wukong#sun wukong x reader#black myth wukong x reader#destined one x reader#bk kai writes
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snooze
A/N: this is all @corazondebeskar fault 🥺
~Word Count: 717~
Summary: Joel loves to nap
Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader
Warnings: none, domestic fluff, soft!joel, peepaw!joel and a sprinkle of angst, readers nickname is honeypie and lady, reader has no physical descriptions (given the content of my blog, all fics are +18 minors dni!)
The last thing Joel Miller ever expected after the outbreak was finding himself in a domestic situation where he had the luxury of fucking napping.
He loved to nap.
Sometimes he’d fall asleep in the porch chair out on the back deck with the sun warming his face. He’d set his guitar down to the side, cross his arms over his chest and mumble about how he’s just gonna rest his eyes for a few minutes.
When you come outside to check on him, he’s snoozing, soft snores slipping past his plush lips. Face relaxed, and the once permanent furrow of his brows is no longer present.
Sometimes after dinner he’d situate himself on the couch with you and Ellie on either side of him while he lets Ellie pick out a movie to watch. He’ll argue that he won’t fall asleep..this time. But between the blanket draped over his legs, and Ellie curled up with her head in his lap, he’s dozing off with his head resting on your shoulder.
His favorite time to nap is arguably right after lunch. Specifically Sunday’s because it’s the one day out of the week where he’s not on patrol, and he gets to spend his whole day with you.
The sunroom is a new addition that he and Tommy built together. There’s a built-in bookshelf along the wall that is brimming with all different genres of books. There’s even some house plants. The main star of the room is the cozy chaise lounge. It’s a bit faded, and has seen better days, but he loves it.
His eyes are already droopy when you move to get up from the spot you were sitting on. He loved it when you would read to him, and today’s book was Wuthering Heights.
“Where you goin’,honeypie?” He rasps, peeking one eye open to look over at you.
You place your hand over his covered knee, squeezing it gently before you lean over and press a soft kiss to his cheek, and then his lips. “Laundry is probably done by now. I’ll be right back, okay?” You brush away a few strands of his soft curls. He’s been growing his hair out lately, and the grays in his beard are more prominent. You’ve never stopped loving this man, and he’s never stopped loving you.
“Hurry back, please. Miss you already.” He murmurs, lips curving into a lazy grin.
He’s a sap. A real softy now that he has no reason to fear. You and Ellie, and this town have turned a lion into a house cat.
“You’re a real softy, Joel Miller.” You whisper and brush away a few stray breadcrumbs from his patchy beard.
“Mhm. ‘S’cus’ of you, lady.” He teases gently.
You peck his lips once more, lulling him to close his eyes. Rest, Joel. You have all the time in the world to sleep. To love. To relax. To live. All the time, my love.
His lashes flutter as he sinks further into the couch, awaiting your return so he can snuggle with you once more.
Taking care of the laundry and tidying up the kitchen takes all of 10 minutes for you to complete. You find yourself thinking about the days when 10 minutes could either mean life or death. 10 minutes used to feel like 10 seconds. To run. To hide. To fight. 10 minutes now felt like 10 hours. 10 years.
You and Joel fought hard for this life of peace and not a day goes by where you don’t feel grateful for it all.
When you return to the sunroom, one of his legs is sticking out from under the quilted blanket, and he’s sprawled out entirely. His skin holds a warm glow from the trickling sunlight coming in through the windows.
He senses your presence even in his light slumber, and his arms subconsciously reach for you.
I’m here. You reassure him as his eyes open, droopy with sleep. He looks scruffy and soft at the same time. A big ole teddy bear; all yours.
Missed you. He murmurs softly as his arms wrap around your middle, pulling you back against his strong chest.
Missed you too, Joel. You melt into his warm embrace. Heartbeats steady, calm and at peace.
Two house cats basking in the sunlight, bellies full, and hearts warm.
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