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chevroletdean · 8 days ago

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mirror sex [dean winchester] ── ✮⋆˙

kinktober 2024

ship: dean x afab!fem!reader genre: smut, angst to note/warnings: explicit – minors dni, established relationship, hunt almost gone wrong, canon-level violence, patching/stitching up wounds, dean’s self loathing tendencies, hurt/comfort, little bit of praise kink, fingering, porn with plot word count: 3.6k a/n: three days until halloween and i feel like i’m way behind on kinktober. i might just try to get to some of these during november as well, my apologies. also, the cat’s out of the bag: i’m a sucker for angst. i’m curious what you guys enjoy to read/write the most, are you more into fluff, smut, or angst?

Dean’s harsh on himself. Always. You knew that even before you started dating him. It’s how he grew up, after all. From a young age it’s been drilled into him by John; that he has to be tough and strong, that he isn’t allowed to think before he acts, that certain things have to be done – even when these things are ugly. Even when they turn other things ugly. Things like the sight of his hands afterwards. Things like his whole reflection, honestly.

It’s days like these where he enters autopilot, in a poor attempt of resorting to a self-defense mechanism. He can’t stand the reflection in the mirror, so he simply doesn’t look. He wouldn’t like what he sees, so he avoids it altogether, if he can.

Saving people, hunting things, the family business – killing monsters always sounds so heroic until you realize your decisions are cut-and-dry to the cruelest degree, until the soap can only scrub clean the red from your hands but not the guilt that still sticks to your skin, and until you begin to wonder who the actual monster is.

Dean’s harsh on himself in that he blames himself for everything. It’s all his responsibility, the weight of the world always on his shoulders.

Hunts go wrong. It’s part of the job, but that thought isn’t as comforting as it should be, because it doesn’t change anything and it doesn’t take away any of the gravity.

Dean and you had been tracking down this pack of aggressive werewolves. The job had sounded so easy, everything had been so straight-forward. Until you two realized that the town’s sheriff was in on it, and ultimately, so was his son. Partially, at least. Just a kid, barely twenty-one – about the age when Sam hit the library, when he should’ve hit on cute girls on campus, around the age of frat parties with beer-pong cups and hangovers.

A guy who had his whole life ahead of him, but had it snuffed out by a silver bullet to his chest. (or rather, by Dean’s finger pulling that trigger, if you’d ask Dean how it went down, because he sees no point in distancing himself from the narrative when it was his doing). Not because that kid wanted any of it. Hell, as Dean and you had been investigating the case, you came to realize all that boy wanted was a peaceful life. And you knew it was possible, some werewolves were able to build up normalcy without killing anybody, picket-fence and all, more so than your average hunter, sometimes.

But you had shot the sheriff, given that he’d been systematically kidnapping his victims throughout the years. And upon witnessing the silver piercing through his father’s chest, the student went downright feral. He attacked you and jumping you, going for a bite that never landed, was the last thing he ever did.

“You had to shoot him,” you told Dean in the car, just like he predicted you would.

“I know,” came Dean’s reply and those were the only words during the whole ride, just like you predicted they’d be.

Even upon arrival back at the bunker, he remains silent. The loudest noises are just his footsteps, which are heavier than usual as he drags you to your shared room, and ultimately the slam of the bathroom door that he shuts behind the two of you.

“Sit,” he says, voice laced with anger that you know he only directs at himself, and nudges you to the edge of the bathtub. You know better than to argue with him and despite the fact that there’s a nasty gash on his shoulder, you let him clean the minor scratch above your eyebrow first. You must’ve hit your head back when the werewolf slammed you against a shelf, but you’ve definitely had worse. But Dean puts others before himself and your wellbeing is always his priority.

Yet, his ministrations aren’t exactly gentle. He dabs the rubbing alcohol to your cut brow without any regard for the way you wince slightly. His eyes don’t meet yours as he shoves his hand into the cupboard and impatiently fishes for bandages. His jaw is clenched tightly as he patches you up with a bandaid.

He’s in his own head, clearly – or trying to keep those spiraling thoughts at bay within his self-critical mind. Those what ifs and should’ve dones would kill him otherwise.

You can only watch as he straightens his back, turns around, takes a step towards the sink opposite to the bathtub, slams the cabinet shut again, and keeps his gaze purposefully low. His eyes remain glued to his hands as he washes them, as if he doesn’t dare to lift his chin.

“Let me help you with your shoulder,” you mumble softly and he almost can’t hear you over the running water and the running thoughts. It’s your gentle touch that makes him snap out of it, but even as he raises his head at last, his eyes only land on the reflection of you. Your face peeks out over his shoulder, one of your arms wrapped around his middle, the other hand ghosting over his blood-soaked sleeve.

“No need, ‘m fine,” he grumbles, stubborn as ever. But as he turns off the faucet, the movement reminds him of the sharp ache and the dull throb in his arm. Just the graze of the sheriff’s bullet. He knows he got lucky, but he also can’t bring himself to care about any of that with every other dreadful aspect of today.

“A couple of inches away from death doesn’t fit my definition of fine, Dean.”

He can’t argue with that, it would be hypocritical. A droplet of blood on your forehead is enough to make him worry and who is he to deny you your concerns when he’s been injured too? Besides, he knows you can see right through him. Physical injuries are one thing, but the emotional damage often runs deeper than any blade or gun could.

Though his muscles are stiff, Dean doesn’t resist as you slowly peel off his flannel. His eyes are still fixated on you. He can’t bring himself to look at the wound himself, much less let his gaze drift anywhere close to his own reflection right now.

Your movements are mesmerizing enough to keep him distracted anyway.

You reach around him to turn the faucet back on and you grab a washcloth. You tie your messy hair back and out of the way and you carefully roll up the short sleeve of his shirt. You dampen the cloth and wipe the blood from his arm. Once you disinfect the wound, he ultimately looks away. Not because of the sting of the rubbing alcohol, but because of the pain he recognizes in your eyes. Your brows knit together and you frown slightly, sighing to yourself.

He can’t bear watching you pity or fuss over him when part of him feels like he deserves this.

“C’mon, ’s not even that bad, sweetheart,” he grumbles, but his voice is strained.

Your movements come to a halt as you blink up at the mirror, expecting to see his green eyes look back at you through the reflection. But Dean’s head hangs low again and his hands grip onto the edge of the sink he’s staring into.

“I’m glad it’s not,” you hum, but you still grab ahold of his hands and pull him away from the sink. “Sit.”

When you say that word, it sounds a thousand times softer than when he did. You know he hadn’t huffed it at you earlier, but rather didn’t bother concealing his bad mood. Still, his annoyances aren’t directed at you, so he makes an effort to pull you closer gently, in apologetic fashion. His hands settle on your hips as he sits down on the edge of the tub. You’re standing between his legs, surgical thread and needle in your hand.

“Lift your arms f’me, babe?”

When Dean follows your instructions without a witty remark about how eager you are to get him to strip, you know the self loathing is bad. You help him peel off his shirt, tossing it straight into the laundry basket. Luckily there aren’t any other major injuries, though you suspect a couple of bruises will bloom by tomorrow.

His hands go back to your hips, as if he’s able to steady and ground himself by holding you, to which you have no complaints. As long as he’ll let you stitch him up, you even let his bolder touches slide. You’re so focused on closing up the wound that you barely react to his fingers curling around the back of your thighs.

With this position, Dean’s practically forced to face the mirror again. It’s right behind you and with the way you’re half bent over, leaning down to his arm, the view is without obstruction. But his attention is fixated on the jeans-cladded plush in his palms. His hands wander higher, fingers splaying out over your curves. He gives your ass a gentle squeeze to which your breath hitches.

“Careful, unless you want to end up looking like Frankenstein’s monster,” you chuckle playfully, relieved that he’s in high enough spirits for teasing touches.

“Since when are you not into the scarred badass guys?”

“Touché,” you smile in response, “Although I prefer them in a confident mood.”

He groans, knowing where this is going, but he decides to play along. “What d’ya mean?”

Your smile curls into a smug grin as you shrug. “I mean,” you sigh and finish the last stitch, securing the thread into a knot and setting the needle aside. “Scarred, badass guys are even hotter when they know that they’re strong,” you continue, before you plant a kiss to his forehead, “that they’re brave…” Another kiss, to his nose this time.

A quiet growl escapes him as he instinctively tightens his grip on your ass. You know he doesn’t fully believe your words, but you’re adamant about convincing him, so you continue with your list: “…heroic.” More kisses, this time a chaste one directly to his lips, though Dean scoffs and pulls away almost immediately.

“Yeah, right,” he scowls. “Nothing screams hero more than murdering someone.”

“You saved me tonight,” you argue back, whilst gently cupping his face. “You’re definitely my hero.”

His gaze wanders from your lips up to your eyes, seeing nothing but gratitude and adoration in them. Both of which he feels undeserving of. Dean Winchester isn’t half the hero you think he is, he’s all kinds of screwed and his fucked up life consists of violence and regret most of the time. Yet you always look at him as if there’s something worth looking at. Even when he can’t see it himself.

“Just doing my job,” he replies and his voice feels thick and wrong on his own tongue.

“No,” you huff, your thumbs tracing the sharp edge of his jaw, the scruff grazing against the pads of your fingers. “It’s not your job to look after me, or to fight evil. But you’re damn good at it and you do it to make the world a better place. Just like you did today.”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow at your words, since he’s not exactly sure how shortening the lifespan of a young man can possibly add any plus points to his karma. But he understands where you’re coming from, even if he can’t accept it fully just yet. He doesn’t regret pulling the trigger either, he’d do it again – in a heartbeat – if it meant keeping you alive. In that regard, what he did was the right thing, but that didn’t mean it was an easy thing.

“You did what you had to do, babe,” you sigh, tilting his face up a little again before he could avert his gaze once more.

You’d tell him that he shouldn’t beat himself up over it, but that would be like talking to a wall. Your reasoning tends to reach him better than the loving reassurances, even though you both know you’re right. Maybe that boy didn’t deserve to die, werewolf or not, but in that moment it was either him or you.

Your lips land on him once more, this time on his jaw, before they wander down the hollow of his throat. Dean welcomes the sensation of your mouth on his neck, your teeth against his collarbones. Your hands on his chest, warm and soft and eager. So eager to make him feel good, to prove to him his own worth.

Your fingers are always enough to make his walls crumble. The sweet nothings you whisper to his ear always suffice. It might not heal him entirely, but his doubts are soothed for the moment whenever you need him. Whenever you give him what he needs. Whenever you love him.

Your hands reach the waistband of his denim pants, against which his cock is already beginning to strain. Once your touch ghosts over the prominent bulge, he snaps and indulges. In one swift movement, he stands up, his hands still tight on your hips as he picks you up and carries you to the sink. Within a second you find yourself positioned on the bathroom counter, your back nearly bumping against the mirror behind you and your legs draped around Dean’s waist. You’d complain about how he should be careful, lest he wants the fresh stitches to rip open, but your protest dies on Dean’s tongue, which he has already slipped past your lips.

Dean kisses you hard and with purpose, as if wanting to repay your praises. Where your mouth works its magic through words, he has always known different ways to use his. Always a man of actions, your boyfriend. His lips wander down your neck, making you gasp in delight.

He grunts, dizzy with the taste of you, your scent, your voice. You’re so soft under his calloused hands that he’s reminded once more of how close he was to losing you tonight. His impatient hands pull your shirt up over your chest, where his lips latch onto. He doesn’t even bother pulling it over your head fully, eager to search your heartbeat with his tongue, as if he’s able to taste that you’re still alive that way.

While you’re busy discarding your shirt properly, Dean’s mouth finds your nipple through the lace of your bra. You arch your back into his touch further, his name falling from your lips in a whimper that almost has his brain short-circuit.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he gruffs and pulls you off the counter, turning you in his arms so you’d face the mirror. His low voice is gravelly and half muffled by the column of your neck, which he still works some hickeys into. “Always treating me like some kind of hero when you’re the one keeping me alive and sane.”

His bare chest is pressed flush against your back and your hips are lodged against the edge of the sink, to which your shaky fingers grip so tightly that your knuckles turn white. You whimper again, softly, as you feel him rock his hips against your ass. Were it not for his large hands around you, one on your waist, the other cupping your breast, your knees would give out and you’d topple over.

Dean shoves a little harsher, his chest still flat against your back as he pushes you closer to the mirror. It’s fogging up slightly with how heavily you’re panting against the glass. Your eyes meet through the reflection and he finds himself not minding the mirror so long as you’re in the picture as well.

The bandaid that used to roughly match your skin color earlier now sticks out against your flushed face, red and warm all the way down to your neck and even your chest. Your lips are kiss-bitten, puffy and slightly parted as your ragged breath is interrupted by little mewls and whines.

Most days Dean’s looks in the mirror and hates what he sees. But he could get used to this view. At least he can appreciate the sight of his own hands on you, one around your throat, the other between your thighs, making you unravel, being held by yours as you reach for his wrists.

“Maybe scratch the sane part, you know you’re driving me crazy,” he revises his earlier statement as his deft fingers make quick work of your jean’s button and fly. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear and you shudder as he watches every small reaction of yours closely, like a hawk.

He shoves his hand straight into your underwear, satisfied when his fingers find your slick and his ears pick up on the meek moan. He’s barely even touched you yet, but you’re already soaking. You’re so damn responsive it almost makes him want to rip both your pants off and just take you until you’ll see stars. While patience is a virtue, it’s not Dean’s strong suit – yet he wants to take his time with you.

“Always taking such good care of me,” he whispers roughly, gently pinching your clit between his middle and ring finger. “My turn making my girl feel good.”

Using your previous methods on you now, he presses a soft kiss to your temple. His lips brush right against the edge of your bandaid. “My pretty girl,” he breathes, before his mouth wanders to your cheek, where he places another kiss.

“My smart girl, always using her pretty head to keep us alive.” God knows his words are true – your quick thinking and ability to stay level headed has saved the both of you out of dangerous situations more times than he can count.

One of his fingertips slips past your entrance, causing you to overhear whatever he adds to the list of compliments. You’re too distracted by the digit sinking deeper into your cunt with little resistance.

Your blush deepens further, fingers curling around the sink’s ceramic. Your eyelashes flutter and your eyes threaten to close, but Dean prevents your head from dropping low with a gentle nudge of his hand. His fingers tighten around your throat, firm enough to make you redirect your focus, but not enough to squeeze your windpipes, let alone hurt you in any way.

“Eyes on the mirror, doll,” he hums against your jaw. “Would be a shame if you were t’miss out on the show, huh? Look how pretty you are f’me, princess, all sensitive and needy.”

You squirm and whimper, struggling to follow his order with how he’s making your head spin. He’s not playing fair. How’re you supposed to focus on anything except him adding another finger to pump in and out of your cunt?

“Dean, please,” you moan, desperately trying to wiggle your hips. You aren’t even sure what it is you’re begging for, exactly. More of him. All of him. Not like you can’t already feel him throb against the curve of your ass.

“Wanna see you cum on my fingers first, baby,” he mumbles, nearly slurring over his own words. But the hand around your throat loosens its grip and he already moves it down to pull your pants lower. “Know you’re almost there, can feel you squeezing the shit out of my fingers.”

You half groan half sob, beyond flustered, but too far gone to argue back. Your legs are already shaking thanks to his fingers thrusting in and out of you and your breathing becomes more ragged with each intake of oxygen. You attempt to throw him a pleading glance through the mirror, but all you can see is your own messy state. Your gaze briefly flickers down, watching his thumb circle your clit in the reflection. However, your eyes are forced back up as Dean’s free hand winds up in your hair and pulls your head back until it’s settled against his uninjured shoulder.

“Eyes up here,” he quips and you’d want to wipe that smug smirk off his lips, were it not for his fingers curling inside of you and pushing you over the edge at last. Your mouth falls open and you cry out as liquid heat rushes through every fiber of your body. You see your own reflection, expression twisted into pleasure and bliss as your orgasm washes over you and you clamp down on Dean’s fingers. Your grip tightens around his wrist, which doesn’t stop him from guiding you through the ecstasy.

“So good for me,” Dean praises, or you think that’s what you hear in your hazy state. You’re still trying to catch your breath as he withdraws his hands from between your now sticky thighs. He brings it up to his mouth, giving his fingers a brief lick. You shudder in awe watching him. His pupils are blown wide, glistening tongue peeking out from those plump lips of his.

But he changes his mind at the last second.

“Not done with you yet, sweetheart,” he whispers and presses his fingers against your lips. You obediently open your mouth for him, welcoming his fingers in, though you flush more as you taste yourself on his skin.

Your walls flutter and clench around nothing just at that, but you have a feeling he’s about to do something about the empty feeling. He smirks knowingly, his cheek pressed against yours, your faces in the mirror side by side.

“Think I should show you how pretty you look taking my cock? I swear, it feels unfair that I’m always the only one who gets to enjoy the show.”

credit & links: ao3 ──〃★ dividers ──〃★ request here taglist: comment a green heart 💚 to be added to the dean x reader taglist (please note: ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts)

@winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126 @zepskies @hot-and-confused

@spookyfunhottub @calibootsgirl

#chevroletdean writes #chevroletdean‘s kinktober #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #supernatural x you #spn x reader #dean angst #dean smut #spnsc #spnangst #spnsmut #dean sc #scenario #kinktober #dividers by inklore

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zeppelinlvr · 3 months ago

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Dating Dean Winchester

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Notes: I just wanted to post some head cannons since I don’t have any fic ideas rn. Also thank you guys for all the support, i can’t even begin to express my gratitude, i’m so glad you guys like my work! 💗💗

Warnings: Fluffy, some cursing

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

- Protective like no other, if you join him on a hunt he makes sure you stay close and is throwing punches the second anything gets near you

- Dean has trouble saying he loves you but he shows it through his actions and taking care of you.

- Takes him a while to let you get close but when he does you’re his whole world, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you or to protect you.

- Loves loves loves taking you out to eat, he always wants to try new foods and restaurants with you, both of you overeating and cuddling while watching a movie until the stomach ache goes away.

- Sam helps you plan surprises for Dean on your anniversary or his birthday

- Opens up to you about wanting a family (Dean is such a girl dad ugh)

- Lots of teasing and playful banter, if you mix words up or say something dumb he’s sure to let you know he heard it.

- Petty arguments over things that definitely don’t need to be argued about

“Dean where are my shoes”

“probably by the door” he said without looking up at you

“i’m standing by the door dumbass” you told him

“i didn’t take them” he responded flatly

“yes you did” you shot back

“why would i take your shoes?”

- Arguments end when one of you finally laughs or you just kiss and make up.

- Both of you asking Sam to take your side in an argument

- Going to bars and laughing at everything after too many drinks

- He LOVES kissing the back and top of your head.

- Def holds the back of your head when you hug him.

- Tries his hardest to make you feel better when you’re upset, he lets you talk through it and tries to make you laugh. He’s not good at helping people with their emotions but he tries his hardest for you.

- Getting a cat with him and he acts like he hates it but you catch him cuddling it and letting it sit on his lap.

- Says he hates the cat even though he babies it big time.

- Calls you a dork but he loves how smart and educated you are in certain areas.

- Singing together in the car and making dumb faces at each other.

- Talking with him about music and gifting him cassettes that you pick up at thrift stores and music shops on the road.

- He let you drive the impala one time and was sweating and twitching the whole time. (no hate to you he just loves his car), he prefers to drive you around.

- Defends you in public, corrects you in private!!

- Telling him everything that comes to your mind and he lets you yap because he’s secretly interested in your leg pain, the people you saw at the gas station and what new perfume you want to buy.

- Will laugh at something for an hour with you even though it’s definitely not funny anymore.

- Feel like he likes Johnny Cash and old country so you make him a mixtape of old country songs.

- He rolls his eyes at your complements but you see the smile playing at his face.

- Calls you sweetheart, sweet cheeks, doll, sweet girl, pretty much anything he can add sweet in front of.

- Both of you eat up the themed motels, trying to find the most ridiculous ones you can.

- Even though you guys bicker and you get on his nerves Dean would do anything for you, he’d literally go to hell and back to keep you safe.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural x reader

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websterss · 4 months ago

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JUST TRYING TO BE BRAVE — ERIC (AQPDO)

REQUEST: A request for Eric from A Quiet Place: Day One The reader only knows of one way to calm him whilst he's having a panic attack during the madness, and they gently let him rest against their chest and listen to their heartbeat until he calms down <3

WARNING(S): SLIGHT SPOILERS, fluff, angst, panic attacks

WORD COUNT: 1,286

PAIRING: Eric x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed! I didn’t know where you wanted the reader to calm him down so you get a two-for-one scenario fic lmfao <33

MASTERLIST

You don’t know what you would’ve done if you hadn’t run into Sam like you and Eric had. You two probably would have continued to wander the discarded vacant streets of New York, had you decided not to follow the cat.

Sam had been insistent on you both leaving her be with her cat, but at last she got used to your presence. Now as you shelter in her abandoned home, watching and hearing the rain fall from the windows, you can’t help but feel relieved those creatures can’t hear your beloved's panicked inhales and exhales.

“Eric, it’s okay! You’re alright. We’re okay!” He only shakes his head at your reassured comments. Your consolation this time wasn’t doing the trick to calm him down, if you hadn’t run out you would have given him his prescribed anxiety meds. “It’s okay. They can’t hear us up here right now. You’re okay. We’ve made it this far haven’t we?” You breathe out a laugh as you cup his face. He barely musters a nod before his eyes close again, you could imagine the tornado spinning around in his chest. Wreaking havoc on his sanity and any small chance of serenity. You could imagine it all. You could see the panic, the fear in his eyes, making his chest rise and fall rapidly as he struggled to maintain his breath. “Do you want to try it again, what your doctor recommended us to do? Your head pressed on my chest. Match your breathing to the rhythm of each beat of my heart…” You trailed off letting him take the lead.

At your suggestion, he nods slowly, his eyes closing as he reaches out for your hands again. "O-Okay..." Eric tried to take deep breaths, but they came out as panicked stutters.

You sat back against the sofa, allowing space for him to rest against your chest. You began to steady your rhythmic pace, knowing it only worked if you were just as calm and relaxed. You press a gentle kiss against his curls. As his breathing slows to a soft inhale and exhale. He tuned out everything around him. Hearing every thump, feeling every minor skip in your chest. He felt your steadiness, felt the caresses in his hair. The strong warm hold of your other arm as you held him close. He could feel you, hear every intake of air. You were present for him, and he was welcoming the stillness the moment allowed for you both to have once again. He guessed as much though just how the rest of your lives would dissolve into, a world of quiet.

It seemed heavenly at first, but otherworldly frightening, knowing he might just have to savor the small moments where he’d get to hear your voice again. Just as he was doing now.

Once you registered his slackened jaw and relaxed shoulders, you assumed as much that he had fallen asleep. You didn’t dare move. Your fingers continued to rake through his hair as he had succumbed to sleep. You couldn't help but feel relieved that he had calmed down and been able to find some rest. The rain continued to patter against the windows, its soothing sound acting as a natural lullaby to ease your nerves. As you held him close, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his peaceful face.

“What started the attacks?” Sam watches you both from the windows.

“Moving far from home. His parents were so proud of him for following through with law school, but he was devastated to leave them. I completely out of mind in love with him, made the biggest jump of my life following him to the U.S.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

You peer up at Sam with glistened eyes. “N-No. I wouldn’t be sane going through this apocalypse without him. Whatever this whole mess is!” You exclaimed quietly. You look down at him, brushing back his curls. “I’d regret it more if I hadn’t followed him here. I can’t imagine what he would’ve done all alone, if he’d survived it this far. I think he would. I wonder if he’d have met you just the same if I wasn’t here. I’d have been thankful just the same though, Sam. For letting him stick with you.” You choke back a sob, your smile widening at the corners. Sam only nods, turning her head away from your vulnerable confession. You didn’t take it to the heart. Who knew what pain she was going through herself.

As you spoke to Sam, your voice quivered with a mix of love and vulnerability. You could feel the weight of your words hanging in the air, and for a moment, it was as if the world outside faded away, leaving only the three of you to navigate this strange new reality. You couldn’t help but wonder how Eric would have fared if you hadn't been by his side, a thought that sent a shiver down your spine. With bated breaths, you turned your focus back to him, sleeping peacefully in your arms.

“Eric baby please!” You swish around in the water, eyes glistening as you look up at the creature crawling out from the hole on the roof. Sam had taken a more firmer approach. Holding her hand over his mouth. You had caught him about to squeak, before Sam shushed him. His need to express his panic in screams was hard to muffle.

You moved as quietly as you could in the water. Making your way to take over Sam’s place. Eric only shook his head at you. You had to nod, to remind him to stay calm.

“Eric, we need to slow your heart.”

“N-No, no, no.” He muttered. “I can’t…”

“You can, you can. Baby, look at me.” You whispered harshly, gripping his face like Sam had done. In a more serene and calm scenario, your softer touch would have been your go-to, but not when that thing was getting closer. “I’m scared right now, I’m scared too, but we need to get you back on track. I need you to focus and match your breathing to mine, right now!” Your eyes plead with him. “Please!”

His eyes were wide with fear, pupils dilated and breaths shallow. The panic was clearly taking over him as water dipped into his mouth, making it difficult for him to focus on anything other than the impending danger. Despite his obvious distress, he nodded slightly, trying his best to calm himself down. As you held his face, he tried to match his breathing to yours, each breath a struggle for control over the mounting fear. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to stay grounded in the presence of your touch.

"I got you. D-Deep breaths…" You barely whisper to him, your frequency morphing into mouthed words.

He took a shaky breath, shuddering as he attempted to follow your instructions. Your steady presence grounded him to the moment.

You didn't hesitate to place his head on your chest. You placed your hand on the back of his head, rubbing his wet hair back and forth in hopes of reassuring him. You tread lightly backwards, keeping your sights on the beast behind you three.

Eric pressed his ear against your chest, the sound of your steady heartbeat providing a calming rhythm to focus on. His breaths were still shaky, but with your hand on the back of his head, soothing in soft caresses, he slowly began to calm down. He closed his eyes and let himself be guided through the water, trusting your instincts to lead the way. Trusting both Sam and you to get him far away from the damned creature.

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mushroomates · 3 months ago

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the fellowship grocery shopping (modern au!):

frodo: has a list which he always loses halfway through shopping. tries to bring his own bags but they’re never enough, or he forgets them in the car and realizes mid checkout. does not like a lot of the name brand foods, goes for the knock offs- partly because he thinks they taste better and partly because he’s rooting for the underdog. (also they’re cheaper which means more money go towards buying treats for the neighborhood cats.) makes an exception for name brand strawberry poptarts, a pippin favorite. keeps his fridge stocked with snacks for his friends.

sam: grows a lot of his own produce and makes an effort to shop local. has his own chickens and a thriving herb garden. he often trades with neighbors-tomatoes for honey, basil for goats milk, etc. once a month he teams up with boromir and goes to costco for insane amounts of flour (he bakes his own bread) and a foot long hotdog. sam refuses to get his own membership.

merry: has a list of things to get that he has worked very hard to compile. this list stays on fridge, and whenever he runs out of something he adds it. this is always sabotaged by pippin who, in a port attempt to mimic merry’s handwriting, adds a copious amount of sweets and things only pippin likes. ends up buying them anyways only to not share with him- will gloat by snacking in front of pippin and not offering any to his cousin.

pippin: does not actually grocery shop. yes, he has food in his house but this is more because he just tags along whenever someone else is going. selectively copies whatever they get into his own basket. has eight jars of peanut butter because he loves peanut butter but does not consume it at the rate he believes he does. also for backup, incase he runs out mid sandwich and needs eight jars of the stuff. loves to ride in the shopping carts when no one’s watching. definitely scooters along isles. loves to hijack boromir’s shopping trips as boromir is the only one who will push him in the cart and give him a lil treat at the end.

gandalf: kind of just. wanders around the store. gets lost in the bakery. buys the most random things, causing the clerks to conspire about what he’s doing with two packs of rubber gloves, a rosterseie chicken, and a tub of mayonnaise. is he a murderer? a professor? a single mother? what is he doing with this stuff?

aragorn: does a lot of trading with neighbors, like sam. likes to accompany arwen on errands and do the little things. she points at an item and he puts it in the basket. he bags at checkout. drives her home. unloads the car and put it away. real quality time and acts of service. yes, arwen is capable of doing these things herself, but he likes to do it for her: hunts so be always has a surplus of jerky, does need to buy more salt then the typical person.

boromir: also hunts. has a thing about using every part of the animal, will eat bone marrow straight out of the femur with a spoon for breakfast. eats a lot of protein. is real big about no food waste and will use everything he can. has his own compost bin and a humble herb garden. likes hosting barbecues for everyone, and makes the burgers and hotdogs from scratch. every other tuesday is grocery day. he goes to costco and buys his things in bulk. he’s the only one in the fellowship with a costco card and everyone loves to take advantage of it.

legolas: mainly just happens upon farmers markets and grabs what appeals to him in the moment. does not have any seasonings or cooking oil as it’s not something that’s ever really occurred to him to buy. will forget he has food in his fridge for weeks and when he finally does it’s gone bad. this, however, does not stop him from eating it. makes a lot of smoothies.

gimli: has a lot of preserved foods and a cupboard dedicated to emergencies. owns a lot of canned beans, fruits and vegetables- anything that will keep well. has a freezer filled with food in his garage with backup stock. is a very good with coupons- pippin likes going with him just to see the total (and the clerks jaw) drop. eats a lot of trail mix and jerky. enjoys fresh fruit when he can but doesn’t like to buy it because it doesn’t last.

gollum: sneaky little man. he hides in the bottom part of the carts meant for heavy items and parties his way across the store with his hands, scooting along tile and grabbing anything with reach, tossing it back up to the cart and continuing on his journey. then he just rolls right out the door. no one can stop him.

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moonferry · 5 months ago

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*rubbing hands together like a gremlin* you guys want some stardew headcanons thst have been rotating in my mind like a gas station hotdog? no? well here they are anyway.

* leah has a sketchbook full of candids of people from town. if you choose to romance leah, she has a LOT of sketches of the farmer

* sebastian is trans masculine/nonbinary and uses he/they pronouns

* leah is actually robin's younger sister & moved to pelican town because robin had mentioned how peaceful it was

* sandy is trans feminine (she's also soo wife)

* abby would've absolutely loved among us

* maru secretly has a crush on penny

* jas makes shane play dress up. he acts annoyed but enjoys spending time with jas

* clint is an avid reddit user . do with that what you will.

* i think abby majored in political studies or graphic design

* harvey has a tooth gap and freckles

* elliott has DEFINITELY recreated the fork-hairbrush scene from the little mermaid

* harvey is allergic to cats but he powers through for the farmer

* abby DEFINITELY uses tumblr

* harvey has a little plane nightlight. not because he's scared of the dark but because he thinks it's cool. if you romance him, he puts it in the child(ren)'s bedroom.

* elliott wears hair curlers to bed.

* penny has a collection of drawings that jas and vince made for her. she puts them on her fridge.

* sam is an android user (and yes, it's purely because people kept calling him "samsung")

* wlw haley. that is all.

* haley takes pictures and sometimes lets leah borrow them/use them as a painting reference

* sebby with top scars. ooogh.

* maru has a cluster of freckles on her shoulder shaped like the little dipper.

* abby dyes her hair & once did all rainbow and cosplayed rainbow dash.

* the farmer and haley often call and have late night gossip sessions

* sam's phone wallpaper is a really zoomed in or a 0.5 photo of the farmer / whoever is his partner

* sebastian types in all lower case

* sam types in all caps.

* i think it would be really funny if seb just had sam in his phone as Samson (that grammar and everything) just because it's so unlike his usual typing and he does it to piss sam off

* it's no secret that sam is very forgetful, however i think this helped him become friends with penny. penny is very organized and has every important date (ie birthdays) memorized. --- she NEVER forgets a birthday. --- one day, penny heard sam repeating a phrase to himself so he wouldn't forget what he needed to do. penny encouraged him to write it down and even showed him how to write on a rubber band. sam adopted this and everytime he sees penny he'll smile widely and hold up his wrist (which will have anywhere from 6-10 rubber bands at the time. poor boy).

that's all for now. i may add more later idk. let me know if y'all want me to rack my brain for more of these

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ikamigami · 9 months ago

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ABUSE VICTIMS ARE NOT TREATED EQUALLY IN SAMS FANDOM AND IN THE SHOW

(even though I still think that it's intentional on showrunners part so it's not directed at showrunners that much)

I'm so tired of seeing takes of people who talks about how much Lunar and Eclipse's relationship is so complicated and at the same time say that everything is remotely okay with Sun and Moon's relationship.

Sun and Moon are the OG messed up relationship in the show. And yet I still see people who don't realize that. They act like Old Moon's abuse was nothing when at the same time they say that poor Lunar suffered so much from Eclipse. Don't get me wrong Lunar is a victim of abuse but so is Sun!

Sun thiks that he likes toxic people because of his relationship with Old Moon. He's afraid to speak up his mind because of Old Moon. He's scared of loud noises and darkness because of Old Moon. He's touch averssed because of Old Moon. He was afraid for a very long time to talk about his cats because of Old Moon. He doesn't believe in his own smarts because of Old Moon. He thinks that he's only good for cleaning because of Old Moon.

Even if now New Moon is willing to listen, Sun is too scared to say anything because he most definitely thinks that if he'll use the wrong word, Moon will magically start acting like Old Moon.

Sun is so afraid to take any action even if he'd like to because his last attempt to help ended with Old Moon dying.

Some people still brush off all these years of mental, emotional and physical abuse Old Moon inflicted on Sun. While they still hold over Eclipse's head the abuse his previous versions inflicted on Lunar.

Make it make sense!

We're bashing Eclipse for abusing Lunar because he's a villain but we don't care about Old Moon abusing Sun because he's one of the MCs!?

Yeah Old Moon wasn't a 100% evil monster. But yet he did so many amoral things and he was very abusive towards his own brother! But he regretted being like that and tried to be better.

We can say exactly the same thing about Eclipse. I hope that people who defend Old Moon's actions and abuse knows that.

I'm also tired that all of this abuse is just brushed off because "if they could communicate with each other better". How about no? Because don't you see that we can say the exact same thing about Lunar and Eclipse's relationship.

And whose fault do you think it is that there was a lack of communication between Sun and Old Moon?

If your answer isn't Old Moon then I don't know what to tell you.

And I'm so frustrated that people say that Sun is doing so much better when he still couldn't even processed his relationship with Old Moon and he was unable to grieve properly after Old Moon's death.

And I blame New Moon and Earth for this.

Sun needs help but he's continuously ignored by his own family and friends.

Lunar had it better than Sun because Monty arrived with help at the right time. No one did anything like that for Sun.

Sun was continuously blamed for bad things in his relationship with Old Moon by both fans and characters in the show.

Sun still very much suffers consequences of Old Moon's abuse and yet people don't care about it. Because it's not Lunar. The bean who suffered the most.

Screw the people who continuously play trauma olympics and gush over Lunar because he's so traumatised but at the same time ignore Sun's trauma.

#sun and moon show #sams #sams sun #sun and moon show sun #sun and moon show moon #sams moon #sams eclipse #laes #laes lunar #laes earth #tw abuse

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 10 months ago

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hi so the New York Times just published a gaylor manifesto and since you’ve been my main source of info for this stuff I wanted to share it https://www.nytimes.com/2024/01/04/opinion/taylor-swift-queer.html

sigh.

okay. if anyone wants to read along, check out the unpaywalled article here:

https://archive.is/uHxuV

before we really get into this I just want to say that I looked into author Anna Marks' previous contributions to the NYT opinion column, of which there are two: a piece about how Marks, as a queer fan, is "heartbroken" by Harry Styles 'appropriating" queer culture by wearing ugly clothes, and an audio piece about how women referring to themselves as "girls" on TikTok is actually radical feminist praxis. so. hot mess express up in here.

anyway this piece is a shitshow that basically plays at the greatest hits from Gaylor conspiracy theories, mainly harping on her inability to come out because of some intangible threat it would pose to her career:

While Ms. Swift’s songs, largely written from her own perspective, cannot always conform to the idea of a woman our culture expects, her celebrity can. That separation, between Swift the songwriter and Swift the star, allows Ms. Swift to press against the golden birdcage in which she has found herself. She can write about women’s complexity in her confessional songs, but if ever she chooses not to publicly comply with the dominant culture’s fantasy, she will remain uncategorizable, and therefore, unsellable. Her star — as bright as it is now — would surely dim.

immediately beneath this is an image of Taylor Swift crumpled face-down onstage, looking wet; if nothing else, it's peak melodrama.

the most glaring thing about this, to me, is Marks' willful omission of other queer pop stars. she opens the article with a jarring discussion of lesbian country singer Chely Wright's 2006 suicide attempt and mentions a few contemporary celebrities who have been encouraged to stay closeted - Cara Delevingne, Colton Haynes, Elliot Page, Kristen Stewart, Raven Symoné and Sam Smith - but with the obvious exception of Smith, they're hardly Swift's peers. as I've said before in my worst and most stupid post, the argument that outing herself would "dim Taylor's star" falls apart pretty significantly when you look at the success of artists like Lil Nas X, Billie Eilish, Doja Cat, Cardi B, and Halsey. Taylor Swift had a bigger year in 2023 than any of them combined, frankly; coming out as queer wouldn't slow her down in the slightest. why the fuck are gaylors so determined to act like she's beholden to a fanbase comprised entirely of conservatives?

also everything about how coming out is sooooo hard for famous people because they're subject to scrutiny and weird behavior as if that's not? something Taylor Swift already deals with? hello hi? get a grip I implore you. why are we wasting webspace on this.

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vm-haunts · 2 months ago

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Me: haha I'll just make up a timeline for this crazy crossover idea.

Me, a week later: what the fuck what the fuck how did I end up with so much plot how is it still expanding oh my god stooooop.

Aaaanyways. I don't know if I'll ever got it properly written, but this monster of a plot bunny now covers several major events and I'm losing my mind...

But anyways, cliff notes version on the plot and how far it stretches:

College trio was involved in the dionesium (aka Lazarus water) research, and somehow they're actually the more ethical bunch. Which is saying a lot considering.

DP events happened but they encountered and got help from several DC magic users during it. Budding occultist Sam for the win. (no agit yet and no phantom planet either)

The GIW got somewhat reformed, thanks to the help of Team Phantom's JLD friends. However at some point they got new management. Now instead of destroying ghost, the new comers are interested in the correlation of ecto-contamination, liminality... And secretly, in the increased success rate of induced metagene activation in liminals. Yikes, they somehow got worse.

Again, the Fenton parents are somehow the ethical ones here, despite everything. They refused to work with the new branch of GIW, stuff escalated (don't they always), and now they're dead. And in ghost jail. At least Vlad is there with them for the heartwarming reunion.

So Team Phantom ended up faking their death and goes on the run while raiding GIW bases, and along the way they found a weird guy (Jason). Weird guy's mom showed up and. Well guess they're involved with assassin cult's power struggle now, at least they get to help a guy out.

More shenanigans later they ended up with some monks in the Himalayas, and- wait Danny what do you mean you know them? Oh yeah Plasmius's little stint with the Infi-map... Gotta love time travel.

Anyway, after Danny got scammed for long overdue property damage fees and Jason got a pair of cool swords, they met Talia again and she brings news! Totally no ulterior motives or anything :) (Sam called her out to her face and she just smiled)

Jason, considerably more chill in this au, is still unhappy about... Well. Everything in Gotham.

Cue the Red Hood stint but with much more control and less blood shed. Which ironically made RH more intimidating because he moves like a ghost(duh). Especially when Jason's main act of revenge is 'pranks', which reads as mild psychology warfare actually. But hey the bats did that to themselves, he did nothing wrong (besides being a drug lord).

Red Hood peaceful mode does however attracted some unwanted bird themed attention, the Owl's not the Robin's. And well, undead Talons sneaking around undead experts, what could go wrong?

Everything apparently. Because on top of the Rh stint, Jason is somehow also infiltrating the Court of Owls now. As his real identity Jason Todd-Wayne no less. But the real suprise is Danny running into his parent's old researches, and. Well, the poor talons need help, might as well join in with the infiltration.

Some more shenanigans later it ends in Jason and co. quietly turning the talons against their old masters, and oh boy did they overachieved the goal of getting a foot into Gotham's crime world. Must be Danny's Fenton luck.

Ol' Batsy is very very not happy about that development by the way. But he can die mad about it as far as Jason is concerned.

...

The end. Of part one.

Stay tuned for part two, where we cross AGIT with crisis.

And massive thanks to @taddy-cat, a large part of this is inspired by the lovely discussion with you!

#cliff notes I said #smh #this escalated so quickly I don't even know #dpxdc #dcxdp #butterfly effect au

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oda-cipresi · 3 months ago

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Omg you have so many dragon requests but I have to add. Do you think you could write head canons about how it would be for the fellowship include a reader with a dragon companion? If not the fellowship then Frodo x reader with a dragon companion. Sorry if that’s confusing. I’m a confusing girl 🤷‍♀️ I love your writing and I hope your doing well ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you so much for the compliment :D I went with the entire fellowship but did focus relatively more on Frodo (somewhat). I honestly like the dragon requests but I always think too much into what do you guys imagine the dragon as so I try not to specify too much. I hope you like it :)

(This is not proofread so I apologise for any grammar mistakes. If you find any please point them out)

~Cipresa <3

Fellowship with a reader who has a dragon companion

-I think that in general they would all be scared at first, except Gandalf who has seen similar things in the distant past.

-I think Aragorn would be the first to accept the fact that there's a dragon in their company.

-Second would be either Marry and Pippin or Legolas, for for the latter I can't quite decide since he did fight in the Battle of Five armies and has seen the damage dragon's flame did to his father, but then again with his personality he would be more understanding and would eventually make peace with the dragon.

-Frodo and Sam wouldn't be that thrilled, especially Sam since he can get quite worried but would put up a brave front for Frodo, and Frodo, while wary due to the stories about Smaug Bilbo told him, would still be quite quick to accept, especially due to his curiosity taking over.

-Boromir and Gimli would be the last. GimlI would hold his ground and call the dragon every name under the sun until the very end, and would accept the dragon only after realising how helpful the “overgrown lizard” is in battle. Boromir would be fascinated but also not thrilled, though he couldn't wait to tell Faramir about it one he returns home (he doesn't die in this because I said so)

-Mary and Pippin would use the dragon in their pranks, oddly enough the dragon would comply with them.

-Everyone did start appreciating the warmth that radiated off of the dragon and the fact that they didn't have to carry all the luggage

-The dragon adored Gandalf and ended up acting like an overgrown cat with him.

-The dragon didn't like Frodo at first due to him being the ring bearer, but eventually got over it after you scolded him. Frodo managed to bargain with him by secretly giving him snacks and you started wondering why you precious companion was gaining weight and suddenly started being around Frodo more. Once you caught on you banned Frodo from feeding the dragon which resulted in the overgrown fire lizard sulking.

-At the battle of black gate they saw the dragons full potential when it burned the orcs by thousands, frying them completely, and they started respecting it even more.

-I think after everything is over Frodo and Aragorn would over to to live there, if you chose Shire, the kids there would be using the dragon as a playground, of you chose Minas Tirith then the dragon would be the guardian of the city

#aragorn x reader #lord of the rings x reader #legolas x reader #lord of the rings headcanon #lord of the rings #lotr x reader #frodo x reader #boromir x reader #aragorn #gimli x reader #lotr samwise x reader #merry x reader #pippin x reader #gandalf

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fullofgutsndopamine · 7 months ago

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everything you do (makes it easy to fall in love with you)

tw: cliches, over usage of pet names, insta-love, cursing

they/them for reader but one instance of “Misses” i couldn’t find a way around it

more here

the giggling should’ve given it away at first.

kids giggling and pulling at the each others sleeve is never a good sign, and even as a second year teacher-you know better.

a smile finds its way onto your face regardless, “what’s so funny?” you ask, “hm?”

half the class giggles into their hands, squirms in their seats and doesn’t answer until a student in the front spoke.

listen, you don’t have favorites-they’re all your kids. but if you had to choose, Rosie, the quiet kid that sits in front for all your lessons, speaks quietly and carefully, her glasses falling down her nose as she speaks-would be one of the first

“miss,” rosie giggles, “someone left a present for you.”

you act surprised.

Kids bringing small presents is nothing new; there's James, who brought you a bruised apple in the first month you started teaching. Annie, who comes in from recess with rocks shoved deep in her pockets for you; Sam who never comes inside when the bell rings without a weed in their pocket, a dandelion half squished for you-

when you make your way to your desk, make a show of opening the small shoebox turned Valentine's Day box you made in class, now with little cats on the sides, whiskers on the front; you're expecting half ripped pieces of lined paper in there, little mispelled love notes from your students-

making a show of opening it, you don't have to act surprised when you see it's absouletly filled to the brim with notes-and you were half right, written on ripped lined paper, scribbled between class periods, mispelled everything-

"Miss-"

one of the students calls you back to it as you take a handful out, a mess of: u lok nice 2day and i lik ur dres or i lov u

"Do you want us to tell you who they're from?"

They're giggling behind their hands, like it's an inside joke you somehow missed out on, didn't get the memo on

"Hm," The smirk plays on your face as you grab another one, "I haven't the faintest idea-"

"It was Mister Charlie!" Annie all but squeals, the class erupting into giggles

"Mr.Charlie," Your eyebrows form into one, "Like, the science teacher across the hall, Mr.Charlie? The one with the glasses?”

It's obvious from the notes that it isn't from him even if you've seen him in passing; walking to your classroom in the morning before the students are there, your hands full of bags for the classroom, him insisting on helping you only for you to race him to see who can get to their classrooms first-walking into his room when you know it's his planning period, his hair dishelved, glasses shoved ontop of his head as he's massaging the sides of his forehead only for you to ask, "Does this sound dumb?" when you're trying to draft an email

you know of Charlie

it's hard not to know about charlie. it's only your second year teaching, your first in this school district, and while everyone here is nice, he's the only one who's seemed to go out of his way to make sure you're comfortable. Dropping by on his lunch, his wrinkled paper bag in hand "I packed too much for lunch." only to pass you an orange, or an apple-when you get a note from one of his students and open it only for it to read: Sorry. They needed a second outside of the classroom. Please send something back for them. -C

"Yeah," They pull you back to present time, "He has a crush on you. He loves you."

they're giggling into their palms, oohing and awing as you do when you're young and love is something that makes their face bright red and squirm in their seats-

"Alright," You shake your head, shove the notes back in, hoping they don't see your face bright red, "We have to finish this lesson. C'mon, let's see where were we. Ah, yes. June, can you-"

You wait until it dies down, when you hope these notes are at least a semi forgotten thing, right before you're about to send them to recess, to send the note across the hall. You make sure to staple it down, don't trust the kids to not peak, and send it across the hall

Across the hall, Charlie is pacing.

"No because like," He shakes his head, runs his hand through his hair, "I can't tell them I like them-"

His best friend, the janitor, John, sits backwards in his chair, eating a banana.

He rolls his eyes as he peels the outside carefully, "Right, because that would be embarrassing-"

"No because exactly!" He shakes his head, slams his fist against his other hand, "I have to-"

A tiny knock on the door and charlie whips around.

All his students are gone, in art for the next 45 minutes-don't them to see him like this, stressed about a crush he'd rather die, thanks.

"Hey. Where-."

He immediately drops the rant, drops his voice as he kneels on the floor, very aware of how intimidating he could be to children, and how he towers over the students, tries to make himself smaller around them always

She drags her feet to Charlie, hands him the piece of red construction paper, stapled down, face bright red: "This is from misses, across the hall."

She speaks so quietly charlie has to strain to hear her, would have missed it if he didn't see your writing across the top of it.

His eyes go wide to John, "It's from them."

John cackles, "Is this a code red? Or-"

"Not now, John." charlie hisses, turns to the kid, "Thank you.”

And she nods once, drags her feet out the door and all but runs to the classroom.

"Open it, you idiot." John huffs, throws the banana peel into the wastebasket by the door, misses.

charlie turns it around in his hands, takes a deep breath, and opens it.

Across the hall, you worry you did the wrong thing.

It borders on flirting, the note you sent. Wrote it on a whim, can definitely see the words you scribbled out, wrote over, tried to make it so he doesn't see the first draft

Heard you have a crush on me you wrote, my kids filled my box with notes from "you". I would expect a science teacher to know how to spell 'hydrogen' when you're professing your love to me, but it's sweet, all the same. If you're kids say anything to you, just wanted to fill you in. Sorry, this is dumb.

You're contemplating faking your death, making a new identity, running away-investing in fake mustaches anything then to live in shame of flirting-with another teacher?! A science teacher of all things?! Please.

The note is shoved under your door, and you can hear footsteps all but run away and a door close in the time it takes you to get it.

It's your planning period now, and you turned the lights off and shut the door in hopes of some quiet to get rid of the pounding headache behind your eyes, your glasses shoved over your face

You get it slowly, carefully, walk to the door where there's a thick piece of computer paper, also stapled close, halfway across the room from being shoved with such passion under the door-

your name is scribbled in front, loopy and carefully and you open the note slowly, expecting a restraining order

sunshine,

can't believe my cover was blown away by students, of all things. I heard them whispering in my classroom about this, but didn't think they'd be brave enough to do anything about it.

I'm sorry about my kids. I think when adults look at each other, kids think they're in love. I hope they didn't bother you too much.

-charlie in 303 (The science teacher)

P.S. You look pretty today

Your fingers run over the note, the place where he obviously pressed down too hard with his pencil and left marks in the note, the scratching out he did. The way he added his classroom in, as if you weren't sure who he was, as if he isn't the only one who's showed you kindness, who stayed with you when you locked yourself out of your classroom your second day until John came to unlock the door. Or the snacks he brought you, the cupcake he had a student bring you when he was celebrating his birthday-the kind little gestures he did in the few months you'd known him

You sit on the note for the day.

Not on purpose; your class came back and there was a small fight amongst students, homework to do-the note felt heavy in your pocket, forgotten until you got home and undressed for the day.

"No but like," charlie sighs to John the next day, early before school is suppose to start. John is leaning back in his seat, eating a granola bar and missing his mouth, most of it ending up on the floor, "Valentine's day is in two days and all I did was send a note all but professing my love to another teacher."

"I know," John snorts, "How embarrassing. That has to be like, an HR red flag, right?"

"Not helping, John." charlie groans as he slams his head against his desk. "Maybe this is a sign I should quit. Move across the sea, make a new identity-"

"On a teachers budget?" John snorts, "charlie be serious, you can't even afford to look at those ticket prices-"

"Not helping, you-"

"Besides," John rolls his eyes, throws the wrapper in the trash, "It's just a crush, charlie. Jesus Christ, you act like you've never had one before. They aren't going to write you up for thinking the teacher across the room from you is hot."

charlie groans, digs the heels of his palms into his eyes until he sees stars.

"And besides," John adds, "It's cute. I haven't seen you this excited since college. The flowers are cute, I promise."

charlie doesn't answer, picks up the mini water bottle he ripped the label off of it and picked some of the wild flowers that grow on his walk into school. He can't afford the grocery store bouquets, not on his teaching budget.

"Come on," John groans as he stands, jingles the keys in his hands, "I'll unlock their door before they come. They'll be here in ten minutes."

charlie sighs but obeys, bites back comments on how he worries this is weird, replaces it with: "it's weird you know their schedule."

John huffs, digs into his pocket as he makes a show of using the wrong keys so charlie groans, cranes his neck to check the hallway for any signs of you-

Finally, three wrong keys later, John pushes the door open and gently shoves charlie in, and he stumbles inside, places the water bottle on your desk, and digs around in his pocket for the note he wrote last night when he couldn't sleep, and shoves it deep into your valentines mailbox before he can regret it-and all but runs out.

Your turning the construction paper make-shift valentine you made over in your hand, contemplating what to say, when to confess this crush officially, when your eyes hit the small water bottle again.

the note never said it's from him, but it's all but implied, the same flowers you see in the schoolyard day in and day out, and you drag the small bottle to you, shove your nose deep into the small bouqet.

Your eye catches the note in the box. You almost missed it, halfway through the day already, when you can see the very tip of it, and you carefully have to dig it out, carefully unwrinkled it and put it on your lap

one day left.

according to my kids, we're married. sorry you have to find out this way that you're taken. sorry the last name is kind of shit.

Have a good day, darling. Keep the tiny humans alive until 3:05.

-C (303, Science teacher)

PS You look beautiful today

A smile creeps onto your face, and a plan forms in your head.

Being friends with the janitor comes with many perks. You didn't originally become friends just for those perks, believe you should treat everyone kindly, but when charlie is in one of his kid's specials (It's Thursday, so you know it's music class and you also know, from walking past the room, that charlie takes the class very seriously, and likes to join in when he can) and you're able to find John, hiding in his room (More of a make shift closet) and ask him to unlock charlie’s door.

"I worry this goes against a school rule," You whisper, bouncing on your heels, "Like, an unspoken rule."

John smells heavy of nicotine and grease (somehow) but he's humming as he unlocks the door, "Nah," He shakes his head, "Just mention me in y'all's speech when y'all are married. Or, name a kid after me."

You gasp, gently hit his arm, "John we are not getting married. Or having kids. I don't even know him. We're just two co-workers who are being nice."

John physically bites his tongue to hold back any comments on first love, or how many text charlie’s sent about you instead nods: "Mhm." as the door opens.

The room is darker without charlie. You know in your head it's due to the lights being out, and not actually because of his lack of presence, but he definitely brings something to the stone walls that's missing without him.

"Quick, quick quick," John teases as he leans against the doorframe, jingles his keys, that smirk on his face he always seems to wear, "Let's go."

You squeal, all but run to his desk, the small bouquet of construction paper flowers on green pipe cleaners you folded on lunch in a small paper milk carton, a piece of paper under it: One more day to go. Sorry these aren't real. From your wife

And you all but run out as John laughs at you.

Valentine's Day comes, and it feels like it's hangng over your shoulders, some big d-day you've been dreading and waiting for.

charlie is too chicken shit to ask you out to your face. He knows this, hell-you probably know that too, but he still comes in, a small cup he usually reserves for his kid's birthdays, plastic with your name down the side, filled with your favorite candy (gotten the answer from grilling your kids at lunch and lowkey bribing them) a note taped to the outside in a bright pink envelope he folded up.

He makes his way to your room, sets it in the middle, hesitates, contemplates if he should, and leaves before he can second guess it.

You're happy you saw the cup before your students, or you would've never heard the end of it.

Your hands all but shake as you take the paper out, his handwriting slanted and scribbled like he wrote it in a hurry:

It's so fucked that I couldn't say this straight to your face.

Will you go out with me? Tonight, 8pm. Tammy's Diner in town.

Let me know.

-c

The absence of his room number, his title, makes you smile, blushing as you re-read the note, him finally asking you out. You contemplated asking him out since you started here, debating with it every ride home in complete silence, beating yourself up for not doing it.

You open your desk up, grab a piece of paper, and get to work.

charlie is googling teaching jobs in the city when one of your students walks in, wide eyed, a note in their small hands. He all but runs to them, gives them a hand full of candy as they leave happily, and he takes a deep breathe, opens the note

Can't wait

I've been waiting for you to ask me out.

Our class party is at noon. Bring your class and we can have a little combined party, it'll be fun.

Wear your green tie, it's my favorite.

-Your excited wife

"And that class, is when you carry the one. Now-"

The yell rips through the air, all but quiet, and the class whips around, wide eyed, wondering what the yelling is about, the loud Woo that rips through the air.

A smile forms on the edge of your lips, "C'mon guys, we're almost done. When this is over, we have a party with Mr.Charlie’s class. C'mon. Now, if the one is carried-"

#caroline writes #charlie slimecicile #charlie slimesicle x reader #slimecicle x y/n #slimecicle x you #charlie slimesicle fanart #slimecicle fic #slimecicle imagine #slimecicle x reader #charlie slimecicle #slimecicle

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golbrocklovely · 1 year ago

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a witching hour // sam golbach

A/N: so i actually thought of this fic as a colby fic first, but i needed a fic idea for sam and figured this one worked well for him as well. idk if you've ever seen halloweentown two, but there is a party scene where kalabar turns everyone into what their costumes are, and that's kinda what this one is like. except with a bit of sexy twist lol hope you enjoy and happy 13 nights of halloween !!

prompt: something is incredible off at sam and colby's halloween party. everyone is acting like their costumes, and nothing makes sense. and then you run into sam… dressed as a vampire. || fem!reader x sam golbach

trigger warning: vampire!sam, cursing, drinking, party scene, mentions of blood and killers but you don't see any of that, blood drinking obviously, crush-confession, twist ending?, manipulation powers used on reader, possessive language used by sam, also he's a bit of a dick in this lol but only slightly

word count: 3381

I constantly run late to everything: meetings, work, important events, and on this night... parties.

It was Sam and Colby's annual Halloween bash. After yet another successful Hell Week, the boys were throwing an all-out banger with every influencer in sight. And I, like usual, ran late to the party.

I'm not sure if you can be late to a party like this, but my texts from Sam and Colby said otherwise.

My excuse this time? I couldn't figure out my costume. I couldn't decide between two costumes, so I ended up going as a witch. Basic, I know, but classic. I finally called an uber, after pregaming a little at my apartment, and headed over to their place. On the way over, a flash of green lightning lit up the sky for a brief moment, in the same direction as their house. I stared at the window, puzzled. There's no way only one flash of thunder would happen if it was going to rain. Especially being green. It must have been a light show or fireworks nearby.

I got dropped off at the front of their house, sending them a quick text that I was outside. As I got to their gate, where usually there would have been a line with a security guard, there was nothing. Maybe I wasn't late after all and instead was super early. Checking the flyer they sent out, that wasn't true. It was already after midnight, and the party started at ten.

I walked into their property, shutting the gate behind me. I expected to see tons of people out front, since that usually was the case; but there was no one. The music was still playing loudly in the house, so there must have been people inside. As I walked towards the front door, I passed by a pile of Barbie dolls.

Who would bring a bunch of Barbies with them?

I glanced at the dolls, bending down, and picking one up. She was very pretty, but her outfit was unlike other Barbie fits I had seen before. Something about it was very revealing for a kids' toy. Granted, the last time I played with Barbies was when I was 10 so maybe my memory wasn't proof enough.

I stared at the doll's face a bit longer. Something about it was so familiar. She looked like someone I knew in the eeriest way. Staring at it too long, I thought I saw it blink. I lightly dropped the doll on the ground, standing back up again.

Just when I was about to open the front door, a soft 'meow' echoed behind me. I turned around and saw two cats, one all black and then another one.... that was pink.

Who the hell would dye their cat pink?

I wanted to reach out and pet them, but they scattered from the noise in front of me. The front door had opened on its own. I stepped forward, walking into Sam and Colby's home.

The place was completely trashed.

Furniture was ripped up, the mirror was smashed in, tables flipped over, cups all over the ground. It looked like a stampede ran through the house. I walked over the broken glass, looking around for anyone. I could see out the back door that no one was there either. Or if they were, they were hiding.

"Sam? Colby? Guys?" I called out, trying to reach for a light.

"Don't do that!" Responded a soft voice from a closet nearby.

I turned around and saw a friend of mine, Sarah, dressed as Rapunzel. She waved me over, opening the door quickly. I jumped over the broken furniture and made it over to her.

"Sarah, what the hell happened?" I asked as she closed the door.

"I'm sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else. My name is Rapunzel." She smiled.

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, very funny, Sarah. But tell me. What happened? Did someone break into the house?"

"I don't really remember everything that happened. Everyone was outside, having fun. It was like the lantern festival! And then, a witch appeared on top of the house and yelled out something. It must have been a spell of some sort. And everybody started running." Sarah gasped, recounting the tale.

"How is that possible? And lantern festival? Why are you taking this costume to heart? I don't think this is the time for that." I glared, annoyed.

"This isn't a costume. This is how I always dress." She argued quietly.

"Rapunzel!" Someone yelled from behind the door. "Let me in! It's Velma."

"What's the password?" Sarah questioned, raising up a frying pan in defense.

Where the fuck did you get a frying pan from?

"Scooby snacks." Replied the voice.

"Oh okay," Sarah opened the door politely. "It is you Velma! I just had to be sure."

"You can never be too safe out there." Alice, another friend of mine, responded. I glanced up and down at her costume: Velma. From Scooby Doo.

I huffed, "Okay, you both seriously need to tell me what the fuck is going on?"

They both gasped. Sarah covered her ears lightly, in unison they hushed, "Language!"

"You're kidding me, right?" I deadpanned.

"Who are you?" Alice questioned.

"This is.... uh," Sarah started, then turned to me, smiling. "You actually haven't said your name."

"I'm Y/N..... we've known each other for like five years?" I scowled.

"We have?" They replied.

I rubbed my temples, feeling like my brain was going pop out of my eyes from how annoyed and confused I was. "Alright, can either one of you explain what is happening right now? Quickly."

"I can't remember much, but I've been searching for some clues while I was running around the house. What I remember happening was a witch of some kind appeared on top of the roof-" Alice began.

"Said some form of spell, and everyone started running? Yeah, 'Rapunzel' told me that already." I quipped.

"It wasn't just any spell, it was spell turned everyone into their costumes... whatever that means." Alice stated, putting her hands on her hips.

My face dropped. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Oh! Green lightning flashed over the sky when she said the spell!" Sarah jumped, excitedly. "She must have been an evil witch."

"Witches aren't real. It most likely was a trick of light, kind of like what magicians use to hide their tricks." Alice mentioned.

"I saw the lightning on my way over here...." I shook my head, sighing. "There's no way this is real. You guys must be pranking me or something. Is this Sam and Colby's doing?"

"I don't know who a 'Sam' or 'Colby" is." Sarah replied innocently.

"The guys that invited you to this party??" I pulled out my phone, pulling up a picture that one of them had posted on their snapchats. "These guys!"

"The vampire one went upstairs, and the pirate one is outside fighting a prince in the backyard." Alice pointed out, pointing to Sam, and then Colby.

"Fighting? What do you mean by that?" I furrowed my brow.

"With swords." Alice said plainly.

"Oh no! Your hand is bleeding!" Sarah gaped, gazing at Alice's hand.

"I must have cut it looking around for clues." Alice commented.

"What clues are you even...." I grumbled, trailing off and glaring up at the ceiling.

Sarah wrapped her hair around Alice's hand, holding it lightly. She then began to sing. "Flower, gleam and glow..."

Her hair began to light up slowly, starting from her scalp and eventually ending at the ends of her braided hair.

I can only imagine how expense that wig was.

Sarah pulled her hair away from Alice's cut... and it was gone.

I blinked. "I'm sorry, am I super drunk right now, or did your hair just heal her cut?"

"Jinkies..." Alice whispered, staring at her hand and blushing.

I took a deep breath, needing to get out of this closet. "I'm gonna go find Sam."

"He's a vampire, right? My mom warned me about men with sharp teeth. Be careful." Sarah informed.

"Right..." I opened the closet door, turning back around for a moment. "Hey Alice? I mean, Velma?"

"Yes?" She asked.

I grabbed her glasses off her face, dropping them onto the floor.

Sarah, Rapunzel, whatever, frowned dramatically. "Well, that wasn't very nice.

"My glasses.... I can't see without my glasses." Alice, Velma, whatever waved her hands around, trying to find where I dropped them.

"You don't even wear glasses! Oh my God, you guys are the worst!" I groaned, stepping out the closet and shutting the door.

I rushed over to the stairs, needing to get upstairs as soon as possible. As I reached the top, I gazed down over the railing. I watched as someone dressed as Ghostface ran after.... Britney Spears.

Britney Spears was at this party? Like 'Baby One More Time' Britney? There's no way. Maybe they weren't joking about the witch turning everyone into- NO. This is all some weird joke, probably pulled by Sam and Colby because of how often I'm late.

This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this is NOT happening.

I opened the bedroom door to what used to be Colby's room. I wanted to see the entire backyard from a safe distance. The room was dark, the only light coming from outside by the drawn curtains. I raced over to the windows, looking around outside. The backyard was equally as trashed.

A man-wolf monster stood on top of the slide for the pool, letting out a deep, animalistic howl. By the basketball courts, Colby was sword fighting with a guy dressed in a prince costume. Other people, or characters, were hiding around, peaking out occasionally from their spots. And I swore for a moment I saw someone fly away on a broom stick.

"What the fuck?" I whispered, my eyes widening at the scene.

"It's dangerous out there." A familiar voice rang out.

I jumped, a squeak leaving my lips as I turned around. In the shadows of the room was Sam, gazing at me mischievously.

"Oh my God, Sam. You scared the shit out of me." I clutched my chest, taking a deep breath. "What the fuck is going on?"

"A witch did this to us." Sam replied casually.

"That's what Alice and Sarah said. That a witch turned everyone into their costumes. Wait, how do you remember?" I inquired.

He shrugged, stepping towards me. "I'm just a generic vampire. So I guess I remember everything, and I'm still me."

"And since Colby dressed up as a pirate, he thinks he's a swash-buckler?" I joked half-heartedly.

"I guess so." Sam chuckled.

I questioned, "How long will this last?"

"An hour. So, in ten minutes it will be over." He confirmed, crossing his arms tightly.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, "Oh, well that's good. Since I think I saw Ghostface trying to kill Britney Spears."

"That would be such a waste of blood..." Sam's voice deepened.

I leaned away from his voice, "That was kinda freaky of you to say."

He smirked. "I can't help it. I'm a vampire."

"For ten more minutes. Maybe stay over there until this is all over." I hissed, uncomfortable.

"Why?" He leaned towards me, still far away, "You think I'm gonna bite you?"

"Probably." I teased.

Sam shook his head. "I would only do that if you asked me to."

“Well that's not gonna happen. So, let's stop talking about it.” I sassed.

"I think I can sit next to you though." His body appeared next to mine, sitting on the edge of the bed.

I jumped up, turning to him. "Jesus! You have fucking speed abilities?"

He hummed, "I guess so. You know what other powers I have?"

"No, what?" I jeered slightly.

"I can make people do what I say." He grinned wickedly, his fangs shining in the light.

I raised an eyebrow at him, "How do you even know that?"

"I told all the people hiding in this room to leave and go somewhere else. Some of them are outside in the backyard." He answered.

"Well, that was a little rude of you to do." I narrowed my eyes.

He scoffed. "This is my house. I'm allowed to kick people out of it."

"I guess you can. But maybe be a bit more conside-" I started.

He cut me off, his tone changed. "How would you feel if I drank your blood?"

"What?" I turned and looked at him.

His eyes caught mine, and suddenly I was entranced. "How would you feel if I drank your blood? Be honest."

The truth came out of me easily, I couldn't stop it from slipping from my lips. "I wouldn't mind it."

"And why is that?" He continued, standing up.

"Because I've had a crush on you for a while. Plus, vampires are really hot. And you as a vampire is, like, extra hot." I admitted in a daze.

"Wow...." Sam beamed, pulling his gaze away. "Now that's insane."

The moment I could think for myself, I spun around covering my face. "Oh my God, Sam! Why would you make me say that?!"

"I didn't make you say anything! I just made you tell the truth." He explained defensively, almost jokingly.

I whined, "Still! You didn't have to make me do that."

"So... do you want me to bite you?" He asked again.

I turned back to him, pissed. "No, I don't."

"Really?" His eyes somehow caught mine again, and I was lost. "Be honest."

"I would totally be into it," I squeezed my eyes shut as Sam looked away smugly. "Oh my God, you suck."

"Only if you want me to...." He teased.

"That's not..." When I opened my eyes again, his were already boring into mine. I felt lightheaded, and immediately could barely think. "Fun...ny."

"Get closer to me." He ordered.

My body moved without my permission, stepping up to Sam. I could feel his warmth radiate against my skin from how close we were together.

"Do you actually have a crush on me?" He queried.

I nodded my head. "Yeah, I think so."

"You think so?" His hands trailed up and down my arms, soothingly. "Would it be a bit stronger if I bit you?"

"It would." I revealed, unable to lie.

"Okay then. Good to know," he snickered. "Tilt your head and show me your neck."

I followed Sam's command, tilting my head to the side and allowing him more access to my neck. Sam's hold around me tightened, his mouth lowering down until he was almost against my neck.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, Y/N. I would never hurt you," his voice was just above a whisper. Sultry and seductive. "Also.... I like you too."

I exhaled, "Wha-?"

Suddenly his fangs sunk deep into my neck. A soft wince escaped my throat, my body tensing up. I gripped onto his arms, my nails almost digging in. It was a bit painful but exhilarating at the same time. I felt high, each breath feeling like a rush of dopamine.

Sam moaned against my neck, removing his mouth for a second. His tongue lapped at my skin, getting all of the extra blood that fell from his mouth. "Fuck, you taste heavenly."

"Sam, I think you shou-" I mumbled, my voice raspy.

He plunged his teeth back in, a harsh gasp falling from my lips. I thought of pushing him away, but instead my hands pulled him in more. My vision began to blur, and my legs could barely stay up on their own. I felt my legs give out, but Sam held me up, his torso crushing into mine.

"Don't worry, Y/N, I got you. I'll never let you go. You're mine, forever." He growled.

"S-Sam." I choked.

My eyes began to flutter, my breathing slowing down to an almost halt. And still, he continued to drink and drink. I felt like I was floating and falling all at the same time. And I didn't even care. It felt so good to be in his arms, to have him consume me.

I could hear a soft whisper in the distance. It sounded familiar but was muffled. It grew louder and louder by second, saying the same thing over and over again. Finally, as it sounded closer, I could make out what it was saying: my name.

And then like a freight train, someone screamed it. "Y/N!"

My eyes popped open, focusing immediately on Sam's face. He was looking down at me concerned, almost in a panic.

"Y/N, oh thank God. I thought we were gonna have to call 911 or something." Sam sat back on his knees, his chest heaving.

I glanced around as my eyes adjusted to the light. I was in Colby's room, but from an angle I wasn't used to. I tried to sit up, suddenly realizing I was on the floor. Sam propped up an arm around me sitting me up and leaning me against the couch.

"Wha... happened?" I uttered, rubbing my neck.

"Well, we were all downstairs partying, and you said you didn't feel good all of sudden. So we both came up here, and I went to use the bathroom. And when I came out, you were passed out on the floor." He responded, worried.

I squinted at him, confused out of my mind. "So... there wasn't a witch that turned everyone into their costumes?"

He blinked. "Should I still call 911? How hard did you hit your head?"

"No. No, I'm okay." Sam helped me up slowly, still propping me against the couch, "I must have had one hell of a dream when I passed out."

"Are you feeling okay? Tell me, seriously." He looked into my eyes.

I glanced away quickly, "Yeah, I'm... fine. I don't even feel drunk. What time is it?"

He checked his watch. "It's 1:05."

"After midnight..." I realized, muttering.

He furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm okay Sam. Really. You know how I can get sleepy after I drink too much. Maybe that's what happened." I tried to reassure.

"Yeah maybe..." He trailed off.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick." I stated, standing up completely.

Sam stepped towards me. "Do you need help?"

"No, I'm okay." I grinned at his nervousness, "Seriously, I'm fine. Don't worry."

I trudged over to the bathroom, leaning against the sink to collect my thoughts.

So.... that was all a dream I had while passed out? Holy shit, I'm never drinking again.

I looked up, scanning my face slowly. I looked the same as I did when I left my house. Except, I had no recollection of how I got here. I mean, in the dream I took an uber... so maybe that's what happened? But God; that dream felt so real. It truly felt like Sam was drinking my blood and draining me. And holy shit, I confessed I had feelings for him!

I sighed deeply, looking over my face once more. My eyes drifted further down and widened at the sight. Two fang marks were right by my jugular, right where Sam had been biting me.

"Sam! Can you come in here for a second?" I yelled, my breathing speeding up.

A moment later the door opened, Sam entering. "What's wrong?"

I spun to him, glaring. "Why do I have two fang marks in my neck... like a vampire bit me?"

"What are you talking about?" He puzzled.

I pointed to my neck. "Right here! What are these?"

"Y/N, there's nothing there." He informed.

"Yes there i-" I turned around, looking in the mirror. He was right. The marks were gone. My skin was clear, as if they never existed in the first place. "Oh."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Sam wrapped an arm around me sweetly, rubbing my back.

I stuttered, "Y-Yeah. I must have just saw something."

"Must have. Because like I said, there's nothing there." His gaze met mine in the mirror, "Right, Y/N?"

"Right. There's nothing there." I said dreamily.

"Good," he smiled warmly. "Now, let's get back down to the party. If you're feeling up to it, of course."

I nodded, taking Sam's hand and leaving the bedroom, following him back to the party.

#sam golbach #sam golbach x reader #sam golbach fanfic #sam golbach fanfiction #sam golbach fic #sam golbach vampire #sam golbach angst #golbrocklovely's 13 nights of halloween #sam golbach oneshot #sam golbach one shot

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molotovgirl45 · 10 months ago

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sdv Sebastian x Reader headcanons ( dating phase )

Hii! I'm probably going to start posting many different versions and genre's of Sebastian headcanons, and this one is more based on after you guys start dating, but more early stages. I hope you guys enjoy these ones as much as you enjoyed my other ones! ♡

At the start, he's a bit shy about it, subtly showing affection towards you. I feel like his love language ( giving ) would be acts of service, as he doesn't really know how to show his love verbally.

Whenever you would come over while he's playing the dnd game ( I forgot what it's called ._. ) he'll use his spells to silently protect you the entire game, ex. Healing you, shielding you, sacrificing himself for you. And it's really cute. But then Sam gets a little grumpy until he realizes it's because he's starting to lovvvveeee you. 🥺

When you're not around, he'll be doing stuff and think "The farmer would like this" or "The farmer's reaction to this would be so adorable."

When he's building his motorcycle, you'll just sit there rambling on about your day or any drama you're having with other villagers, handing him tools or even just bringing him food so he doesn't forget to eat.

When you go on his motorcycle together, he loves it when you wrap your arms around his waist. He loves when you get handsy with him in general, since it makes him feel wanted and he lacks that feeling with his family. Another love language thing: he usually doesn't care, as he loves anything he does with you. But, physical touch and words of affirmation got him down bad.

Whenever he comes over to visit you, he loves to learn how to farm, so that when you're tired from the mines or something, he can take care of everything for you. Although he doesn't have the best posture for it, he tries his best for you.

( Before you guys start dating ) Occasionally, when Robin is building something on your farm, he'll offer to help ( much to Robin's surprise ) just so he can see you. While he's chopping wood for her, he'll watch you as you harvest all your crops, fill your pets water bowl, ect. It was the perfect excuse to see your beautiful smile or to have you wave at him and Robin in the morning. It always made his insides feel warm like when he was a kid. It was almost as if you were bringing him the happiness he thought he lost a while ago.

He's definitely the type of guy to hug you from behind and just leave a trail of kisses up and down your neck if he misses you that day.

Usually he isn't really clingy, as he understands you're a hard worker, but if he feels depressed or misses you, he'll take time out of his work just so he can cling onto you as you do whatever you're doing. Like a lost puppy 🥺

Like everyone else has said, I agree. He LOVES hips. All of them. He loves legs as a whole. Not as in foot fetish, but like he'll massage your feet after a long day. He likes to have you on his lap, not quite sexually, hands on your hips. He loves kissing your inner thighs, or just even having a hand resting on them. He loves carrying you bridal style whenever you're being stubborn about working, just picking you up easily and placing you down on your bed.

Another place he loves kissing are your ankles. He just finds it adorable if you're lying down on your back, and he just raises your leg and kisses all over it. It doesn't matter if your legs are bony, soft, bigger, thin, he loves them all the same.

Body hair. Although it doesn't specifically turn him on, he finds it cute. Like peach fuzz. He doesn't care if it's thick, dark, light, thin, long, he finds it cute that you're fluffy. Just like a cat or a fluffy bunny.

#sebastian sdv x reader #sebastian stardew valley #stardew sebastian #stardew sebastian x reader #fluff #headcanon #stardew valley #stardew farmer

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abiiors · 11 months ago

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sfw alphabet ❣️ // matty healy x reader

a/n: there is one story in here that is based on true events from my life hehehe. also while we're here i'd like to say that i tried veryyyy hard to keep it strictly sfw but some innuendos did slip through lol cw: mostly fluff, very brief mentions of addiction. brief mentions of morning sickness, some angst but it's very tame overall wc: 5.6k

a = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

matty’s like if you fed a stray cat that one time five months ago—meaning, he’s going to be the most affectionate person ever if you show him even one act of kindness. it doesn’t matter what your relationship to him is, it’s just a given at this point that if you’re close to him, he’s going to go above and beyond for you.

you get your first taste of it when you show up to his house, on the verge of tears and a panic attack from the stress of an upcoming deadline. it’s three weeks into dating, you’re barely even sure if you should be bothering him with your silly little problems (even though later he would scold you for calling them silly little problems).

matty opens the door, takes one look at your face, and instantly pull you into a hug.

“oh, darling, what’s wrong?” his voice is full of concern and you suspect there’s a giant frown on his face.

“everything!”

a little giggle slips out of him and he has to press his mouth shut when you look up at him with a betrayed pout.

“everything? hmm, we gotta do something about that then, don’t we?”

and then that’s exactly what he does.

“should we light a fire?” matty asks once he’s got you a glass of wine (your favourite that he found out about and now always keeps on hand) “you love a good fire.”

“and we can read together?”

“anything you want, baby!”

and even though his face twists into an expression of instant regret as soon as he says it, matty still proceeds to make a fire while you set up blankets and pillows on the sofa. he knows exactly what’s coming though (no seriously, he fondly likes to call your kindle unlimited subscription the bane of his existence)

still, twenty minutes later, snuggled up next to you and cringing through every bad sex scene, he can’t complain. not when he gets to bury his head in the crook of your neck and hear you laugh at his reactions.

b = best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

loyal to a fault!!!

you can pinpoint the actual date the two of you became friends—years and years and years ago, practically decades at this point, at the ripe old age of fourteen, you got into your first fight.

you can’t remember how the fight started or who it was with. all you know if there were a few words, someone pulling your hair and the next thing you know, you were on the ground, trying to hit any vulnerable spot you could find.

the memories after that are fuzzy—you, school uniform undone, dried blood on your split lip, toeing the grass outside your school and trying not to look nervous. what if some teacher saw it?

you didn’t throw the first punch! what if—

“you look like you could use a fag!” a voice cuts through. it’s a boy you’ve sometimes seen around school. black hair (awfully straightened), a unibrow, thick black glasses, always surrounded by the same three boys.

“i don’t smoke,” you counter and go back to torturing the poor grass.

“i didn’t ask if you smoked, just said you look like you could use one.”

what. a. fucking. twat!

still, you aren’t much in the mood for an argument. “don’t wanna get in trouble.”

the boy shrugs. “you’re already in trouble, mate. but whatever.”

he’s about to leave when you grab his arm. “no wait. why are you being nice to me?”

at that, he grins. “are you joking? we all saw what you did to sam! biggest fucking bully in class and you looked like a badass putting him in his place.”

“wait, really? you really think that?”

“ask george,” (you don’t know who george is) “or ross or adam,” (you don’t know who they are either) “we all think you’re fucking cool.”

that makes you smile too. you hiss quickly though, smiling with a split lip hurts but he extends the cigarette to you once again.

and this time, you accept it gladly.

c = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

clingiest man in the whole wide world!!! he has to be attached to you at all times otherwise he’s gonna have that horrendously sad little pout on his face all day.

if you’re just at home, watching something on tv then his head is on your boobs (or in your lap but boobs is preferred though) while you play with his hair. every once in a while he nuzzles his face between them and says something that suspiciously sounds like “comfy”

he’s cute though! and it’s not always sexual. you love the fact that he feels so much adoration for you.

if you’re in bed though, you end up being the little spoon because he absolutely loves to flop on you and cover you with his entire body. he’s deliciously warm and smells so incredible (and he smells like home to you). you’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve fallen asleep like that—with his face buried in your neck, his stubble scratching the skin. and even when his arm falls asleep, he won’t make you move your head at the risk of waking you up.

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

he is a brilliant house-husband (and that’s a title he’s claimed on his own).

“no, go sit down babe, let me take care of that for you” or “let me cook for you tonight” or “should i do the laundry while you finish your movie?” are definitely regular matty sentences arround the house.

the few weeks when he’s just gotten back from a tour and wants to do nothing but sleep all day long are probably the only time you do all the chores while he’s also in the house. he does get huffy when he realises you didn’t wake him up and ask for help.

“i could’ve hoovered,” he pouts but it melts away quickly when you pull him into a kiss.

“i know you could have, love, but you looked so peaceful sleeping i didn’t wanna bother you!”

he isn’t very happy about that but he silently vows to stay up and help you the next time.

e = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he doesn’t want to let go no matter how much the relationship deteriorates. he knows he can fix this and turn back time and bring back the spark. he knows the weekly fights are just a phase, he knows you love him so much!

deep down, he also knows he’s delusional.

you’re sleeping in two different rooms again, you in the guest bedroom, and he’s in your cold, empty bed. and there’s no way he can sleep that night judging by all the tossing and turning he’s done so far. your latest fight echoes in his head—all the nasty things he said, all the vile things you responded with.

just fuck off then, and don’t bother me again! those were your last words of the night before you slammed the door shut and the loud, defining thud echoed through the whole house.

when morning finally arrives, he knows he has to do it.

he knows he owes you at least this much. to break it off with dignity. to salvage whatever shreds of friendship and love that remain between you.

“we need to talk,” he says as soon as you enter the kitchen, eyes swollen and red and surrounded by bags. lips dry and chapped.

still, you nod. and matty extends you a steaming mug of coffee for the last time.

f = fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

he is so down to commit!

he’s started planning a proposal like a year into the relationship. he hasn’t bought the ring yet or anything! in fact, he’s not going to buy a ring at all. not when he plans on giving you his grandmother’s precious ring that she wore every single day until the day she died.

however, he knows the timing's not right. you’re both so busy and you’ve just started a new job. he has a few more tours coming up for the next two years. and well, he has his best friend’s wedding coming up soon, he’s not about to be the dickhead that proposes at someone else’s wedding.

so matty keeps the proposal contained to his day dreams.

he knows it’s going to be at home (he knows how much you despise public proposals) and he knows it’s going to be during the golden hour when you cuddle into him like a sleepy cat. he loves this routine—you, sleepy and gasping for a nap, plopping onto him when he’s just doing his own thing in the living room.

he loves how content you look in the dying light of the sun. how happy and beautiful and utterly perfect.

and matty knows, when he eventually gets down on one knee and asks you to marry him, that’s when it’s going to have to be!

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

so incredibly gentle!

you can’t remember a single time matty’s ever raised his voice at you. he used to be your pretty, dainty boy but he’s started working out now and he’s got muscles (which you find extremely hot. he’s also got a cute little bubble butt that you love to slap). it’s not that he’s unaware of his own strength but now he puts extra effort in being gentler if you two ever get into a play fight.

he makes sure to never fully pin you down (unless you ask for it 👀) or put his whole weight on you.

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

he loves them on most days.

his hugs are always the absolute best! it’s like being surrounded by all things matty—his cologne and aftershave, his arms, the softness of his shirt and the feel of his chin on top of your head. you think a hug from matty is the closest you’ll ever come to having a universal cure for every ailment ever.

on some days he gets quite overstimulated though. you can see it on his face when every single sensation becomes a bit too much and as much as you want to bundle him up, you try to give him his space. to let him calm down a bit. you can always just sit there and hold his hand if that’s all the touch he can bear for the moment.

i = i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

one month in, completely on accident!

you’re sick with the bubonic plague (a cold) and rotting in bed, surrounded by used tissues, half-empty cups of lemsip, and your trusty little comfort plush. matty’s in full nurse mode, despite you telling him that it’s nothing, you’ll be fine if he left.

it’s only when george calls him for something work related that he relents.

“let me check your fever one last time before i go,” he insists and you roll your eyes. but you have no other choice but to give in. it’s a 100 degrees, exactly what it was an hour ago. not too bad at all, but matty frowns.

“i’ll be back in a few hours, darling, you have to promise to call me if you need anything okay?”

“i will!” you croak out and wince when your throat protests. “now go.”

he holds his hands up in surrender and bends down to press a kiss on your head.

“don’t wanna get you sick matty,” you try to protest weakly but even then you know it’s useless. he’s going to do whatever he wants.

“go to sleep now,” he says, “i’ll see you soon. i love you!” and then he leaves.

ten minutes later, when it finally registers in your fever addled brain, your entire body goes cold. did he—

did you hear it right? no… it’s just the fever right? you’re sick! that must be it.

little do you know, matty had to sit down outside your room for a good two minutes before he could leave the house. and now that he’s in the studio, distractedly working on producing a track, he can’t stop grinning like an idiot.

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?)

he used to get soooo jealous back when you were “just friends”! (he still is, he just thinks he hides it better)

the first time you really clock it is when you bring a friend to one of their shows. you know sean’s been a fan of theirs for a bit and frankly, you’re quite excited about introducing him to the band.

matty, however, is as far away from excitement as one can get.

he tries to mask his unease, and greets you with a forced smile. “heard you were our special guest, mate,” he nods in sean’s direction and puts his arm around your waist. “hope you enjoyed the show?”

if sean finds any of it weird, he doesn’t say it. he’s smiles bashfully and gushes about how much fun it’s been. you, on the other hand…

“matty…?” you say as soon as you get a moment alone with him.

he’s outside smoking a cigarette staring off into the distance. his jaw looks sharper than it usually does, his lips are pursed in a straight line. you take a deep breath, contemplating whether to address the obvious tension or let it slide. the distant city lights flicker in the background as you approach him, and he finally turns his attention towards you, exhaling a plume of smoke.

"alright?" your tone is a mix of concern and curiosity. when his eyes meet yours, for a moment, it feels like he's searching for the right words.

he shrugs, attempting a nonchalant smile. but you can see through it. so you fold your arms, giving him a knowing look.

matty sighs, stubbing out his cigarette. he leans against the venue's brick wall, avoiding direct eye contact. “thought we were going out for drinks later. just us two you know?”

ahhhh. so that’s what it is.

a tiny tendril of something shoots through your stomach, does something funny to your entire body.

“we are,” you try to stifle a smile. “do you not want to anymore?”

“what? no!” matty sputters, “i mean, yes! of course, i want to get drinks with you, i just thought…”

“you just thought?”

“well you brought a… friend.”

it becomes almost impossible to hide a smile then, and matty narrows his eyes. “you’re laughing at me,” he accuses and narrows his eyes further when you burst into a fit of giggles.

“he’s going home in a bit,” you manage to recover a bit. “you’re stuck with just me i’m afraid.”

that makes matty shake his head and you can finally see a tiny smile peaking through.

“just you… hmm,” he teases. “guess i’ll have to make do with that.”

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

his kisses always leave you a little breathless.

it doesn’t matter if it’s your first kiss of the day or if he’s been particularly affectionate or if he’s kissed you all over the face—you somehow always end up giggling like a teenager with a crush with your head spinning slightly.

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

so good, it gives you immense baby fever for the next few weeks.

it’s three months into your relationship when his mum insists you spend christmas with their family and you agree to it happily!

his entire family is there! his mum and step-father, his brother and his girlfriend, his dad, his step-brother who’s just had a baby. and that’s the moment you know you’re about to suffer from raging baby fever.

the whole weekend matty is absolutely adorable with the baby. you see him offer to take care of her and feed and change her, you see him making her laugh and smile, but it’s when you see him singing her to sleep, that’s when you truly lose it.

matty doesn’t even know you’re watching him, he's completely immersed in singing his own rendition of you are my sunshine while the baby stares at him with sleepy eyes. but it almost makes you weep when she clutches his finger in her tiny hand and starts to dose off.

the image lingers in the forefront of your mind even when you’re trying to sleep, being spooned by matty and under a cosy duvet. so much so that you have to turn around and bury your face in his chest to stop yourself from squealing at the cuteness.

he’s long asleep by then though. all he does is tighten his hold around you and you’re left to dream of a tiny baby with your eyes and matty’s curls.

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

when you’re not getting off to… other things… mornings are usually very calm and chill. more often than not, one of you wakes the other with a steaming mug of coffee. if it’s a busy day and you don’t have much time to be lazy and cuddly, you just chat about your plans for the day while having coffee and some breakfast.

if it is a lazy day, however, breakfast usually turns into brunch in bed, followed by a nice, long bath full of bubbles!

n = night (how are nights spent with them?)

nights are just as sweet and way more cuddly.

both of you have a little ritual of reading in bed before going to sleep if you aren’t… otherwise occupied. still, he loves to just sit there and listen to you talk about your day or your work in general.

it always makes you laugh how excited he gets about any work gossip you might have for him.

overall, your nights together are so relaxing and sweet and genuinely make you appreciate him so much more.

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

in all fairness you knew much more about matty than he knew about you. he’s always been so open about his friendships and music and all his struggles, still, you knew hearing it from him first hand was going to be different. and you also expected it to take some time.

he doesn’t reveal it all at once though, he thinks he’s trying to make it more palatable for you if he talks about stuff bit by bit.

you’re special to him. he doesn’t want to scare you away by trauma dumping outright! it takes him a bit to open up completely, even when you show him nothing but support. but the more he shares with you, the deeper he falls in love. the more it becomes clear to him that you’re here to stay.

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

anger isn’t the right word for it really! mostly he just gets annoyed sometimes—like a sweet little toddler with his cheeks puffed up it’s almost funny if it wasn’t so downright adorable. he can’t stay annoyed though! one kiss from you (even though it’s usually multiple in quick succession. a strategic attack really!) his annoyance melts away like butter on toast.

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

matty’s like a walking encyclopaedia for trivia related to you and your relationship! he might not remember what he ate for dinner the night before, but he remembers exactly what earrings you wore for your music awards with him.

you do cheekily quiz him sometimes, and matty just smirks like an insufferable twat. “you can try all you want, love, you can’t best me at this game.” he grins.

“oh yeah? that’s a lot of cockiness healy!”

“go on then, quiz me!” he challenges and you smirk back.

“what did i say before i kissed you for the first time? four years ago that is! i need it verbatim, babe.”

for a moment he looks speechless and the smile on your face widens. it was four years ago after all. you’ve had infinite kisses since then, there’s no way he remembers. definitely not verbatim.

matty stalks closer. “you said…” he drawls between one long stride and the next and then he’s right there in front of you, mouth hovering over yours. so close your lips are almost touching. the air between you two feels charged with lightning.

“you said, you wanted to do this, and i quote ‘since the first time you fixed my smudged lipstick with your thumb’.” and before you have the chance to even react, he’s crashing his mouth on yours, smiling against your lips.

r = remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

it’s been fondly dubbed as “the mayhem disaster”.

one morning you hear matty go, “no, no, no, mayhem!” you put your book aside, and sit up to listen the curses that follow.

“everything alright?” you call out, confused and curious.

“babe, can you come here a sec?” he responds, making you groan into your cosy cocoon you'd made for yourself. it rained all night before, and now the weather’s just the perfect combination of gloomy and cosy—perfect to cuddle with your boyfriend all day.

which is what you had been doing until ten minutes ago when matty had to get up to let mayhem out into the backyard.

you turn the corner into the living room only to freeze in your tracks and slap your hand on your mouth, still failing to stifle the loud gasp that leaves you.

in front of you sits matty, on the floor, his head in his hands and next to him stands mayhem. except his gorgeous black fur is now fully covered and matted with mud

behind him, you can see muddy tracks and stray leaves he's brought in.

“oh no…” you don’t know if you should laugh or cry at the scene in front of you.

“baby…” you coo softly, both at matty and mayhem, “what happened?”

“he ran straight for a puddle the second i let him out, didn’t you, you twat?” he scolds the pup making you tsk.

that makes him laugh though. shaking his head, matty gets off the floor.

“well, come on you, straight to the bathroom,” he points a finger in the vague direction.

when the two of you finally manage to get him in the tub, matty starts running a bath while you rummage through the cabinet for pet shampoo.

“be a good boy now,” you scratch mayhem behind his ear, grimacing at the mud that’s now under your fingernails.

you crouch down to his level, softly grabbing his face and about to start cleaning. but of course, he takes it as an invitation to play and begins nuzzling you with his head, trying to climb on you.

matty laughs, making absolutely no move to help you. mayhem, covered in mud, tries to climb on you as you try to set him back into the tub gently. but it’s far too late, you’re already covered in mud.

“fuck! my favourite t-shirt!” you whine, looking down at yourself in despair.

“it’s not even yours,” matty laughs while you scowl at him. “besides,” he waggles his eyebrows, “you can always take it off.”

“pervert,” you laugh at him and then proceed to take it off in one fluid motion and chuck it at his face.

your eyes widen when the t-shirt slides off his face, leaving a perfectly round muddy mark on his cheek.

“you got mud on my face, didn’t you?” he dips a hand in the tub and you know what’s coming. “didn’t you?!” he asks again before splashing a handful of water on you.

you squeal as he grabs your waist, pulling you closer, rubbing his cheek against your face, neck, chest.

“matty!” you laugh, trying to get away from him but he holds on tight. “get her, mayhem, get her,’ he giggles and the puppy covers you in wet kisses once again.

s = security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

he’s always been protective of you, especially when you’re in public. he doesn’t have to worry about the fans being rude or agressive, but the same can’t be said about random photographers and tabloids.

you thought you knew the extent of his protectiveness. all of that changed the moment you found out you were expecting.

you thought you knew his mother hen tendencies inside and out, turns out you were absolutely dead wrong! matty hovers. so. much.

he’s there, holding your hair every time you find yourself throwing up. he’s there cancelling on appointments and on the boys on days he deems the morning sickness “too serious”. most of all, he won’t let you go up or down the stairs alone. at all.

“i’m pregnant, matty, not an invalid!” you whine one evening when you feel him hovering behind you as you make your way up the stairs.

“i know,” he drags it out as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “i’m just making extra sure.”

your eye twitches. “making sure of what? that the stair monster doesn’t get me?”

you kow he’s rolling his eyes without being able to see his face. “alright, smartarse. i meant more if you got dizzy halfway up or down the stairs.”

“i’ll sit down!”

he hmphs, completely dismissing that logic.

“baby, the stairs have a railing for a reason!”

he hmphs again. “didn’t know it was a crime to make sure my girls were safe!”

that makes you sigh. this is a petty squabble—it’s not your first, it certainly won’t be your last. once you reach the top of the stairs, you turn to face him with another long sigh. “look, baby, i appreciate the concern, but i'm not made of glass. i can handle a flight of stairs without a chaperone.”

“indulge me, okay! we can have this argument every time, or you can just ignore my presence when you’re going up or down the stairs. either way, i’m going to hover.”

“matty!”

but you know it’s useless. besides, his stubbornness is almost endearing. and between that and the pampering that comes with the protectiveness, you might as well just give up your stance now…

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he puts in so much thought! it has been like this since date one—since he made sure to accommodate your likes and dislikes and food preferences in finding the perfect place to eat. even after all these years, he takes his time to plan out everything. even if it’s just an at home pamper day for you while he does all the chores.

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

it’s a low hanging fruit but… the excessive smoking annoys you sometimes. especially because his voice is his job. you’ve told him multiple times to tone it down a little and it’s not like he doesn’t listen. it just… doesn’t always stick.

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

depends on where he has to go and what the occasion is. he’ll be dressed to the nines if he has to accompany you to a party or an event but usually he’s fine being in soft comfy clothes that keep him cosy

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

yes!

this literally needs zero explanation.

x = xtra (a random headcanon for them.)

pots and pans clatter; great, banging sounds first thing in the morning in an otherwise serene kitchen. it wouldn’t be like this, not really but you’re both incredibly sleepy. two figures, one tall and hunched over, the other smaller, softer. cuddled into him. the kitchen is awash in the early morning light, too early if you were to be asked but you’re okay with it. you’re happy and content as long as you get to stay stuck to matty’s side.

he cracks an egg.

“a sunny side up? still want that?” he asks and then laughs to himself. it’s an inside joke to him because, in the end, you’re going to end up stealing the eggs on his plate (a soft scramble) and accuse him of putting more care into his breakfast. which is exactly why he does it; puts more love into “his” breakfast that is. he knows you’re going to end up stealing it.

“can’t have you changing your mind again, darling.” matty ruffles your hair affectionately and tugs at the claw clip holding them together. they cascade down your shoulders; messy, frizzy and big.

this early morning everything is a bit fuzzy; your head, your thoughts. “mmm,” you respond. a sleepy little hmm. it’s quite possibly a yes, or it could be a “hold on i’m still thinking” or even a “don’t really feel like eggs anymore”. in all your years together, deciphering your hmms has been his biggest challenge.

“alright then,” a pause. you cuddle closer simply because his t-shirt is soft and he is very warm. this early in the morning you have no sense of anything else but the familiar warmth and the sizzling of the pan.

“i’ll make some coffee for us,” you volunteer and move away.

the bubbling of the kettle almost puts you back to sleep; it’s soothing, rhythmic. but you keep yourself occupied. your favourite mugs are always hung side by side. his is comically large, in the shape of a pint glass; you always tease him about not being able to finish the coffee, about always finding cold remnants at the bottom of the mug.

yours on the other hand looks more like a bowl; soft pink with tiny daisies all over it. you like holding it in both hands and cuddling it close to soak up some of the liquid’s warmth. on days that are especially cold, matty calls it your “emotional support mug”. and it is.

“okay we have to time this,” you announce and carefully pour hot water into the french press. so now he has about four minutes to finish the eggs. that’s alright, four minutes is all he needs.

“get the plates for us, would you?” he asks, bumping his hip into yours. it’s partly to wake you up some more, partly because he’s not very coordinated first thing in the morning either.

you’re about to grumble. getting the plate means leaving your comfy spot and having to open the door, dig around, close it again; so much work really. but matty is quicker. he knows this grumble is coming and he knows a tiny kiss on your nose always does wonders.

unfair really, that he should know you that well.

“hmm,” you huff and start the trek to the cabinet. matty snickers at the way you drag your feet, like a child being told to clean her room. always a grump before you’ve had some food and caffeine.

“such a grump,” he teases, “c’mere.”

when you stop in front of him, two plates in hand, he immediately sets them aside and pulls you close. your eyes are droopy, soft and sleepy. there’s no resistance when he tilts your chin and kisses you sweetly; a lingering soft kiss.

then he holds the steaming mug of coffee in front of you.

it’s as if the aroma makes you come alive; you perks up instantly, eyes finally open and hands reaching to cradle the bowl-like mug, to hold it close to your chest. you don't just drink the coffee, you indulge in it.

“right!’ you speak after a few sips, and proceed to steal his eggs.

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

snobbiness is a big no no. he really hates it when people retend like they’re better than someone else just because they have more fame or success or money.

he would absolutely despise himself if he ever turned into that person. and regardless of who he’s with at the moment, he makes sure that they don’t possess that quality.

z = zzz (what is a sleep habits of theirs?)

so erratic it’s worrying sometimes.

you tried to figure out if he was a night owl or a morning bird but it’s genuinely so unpredictable that you had to give up after a few weeks later.

one thing remains consistent though, wherever he is, he won’t go to bed without talking to you and telling you he loves you! even if he’s on the other side of the world, calling you with sleepy eyes and drooping curls while you hold your morning cup of coffee. even if he’s just got back home at 2 am and you’re already fast asleep. matty makes sure to whisper a little i love you and place a kiss on your head before he goes to bed.

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im-a-marvel-ous-hoe · 11 months ago

Text

Baby, Please Come Home | Bucky Barnes (1st Day of 🎄)

(Credits to the owner of this gif!)

Hello hello hello! Alondra here! I haven’t written anything in a long time, so I apologize if this is shit lol I’m doin a 12 days of Christmas sort of thing and I’m praying that this doesn’t flop 😅

Christmas Masterlist <- check out my other holiday fics! ✨

~~~~

“Merry Christmas, doll.” I heard Bucky’s voice through the phone, his tone in a slightly higher pitch than usual. I smiled to myself as I sat down on the couch, startling Alpine for a moment as she was just starting to fall asleep. She yawned and stretched out her little white paws in front of me, her claws peaking out as she started to climb onto my lap. The princess has spoken. Looks like I’m gonna be stuck here for a little while.

“Merry Christmas, Bucky.” I spoke. The realization that we’re not spending Christmas together this year comes fluttering to the front of my mind no matter how much I've tried to ignore it these past few weeks. The only sense of warmth I have of him in our house is some old shirts he left behind and our baby Alpine. She’s quiet and craves cuddles, just like her dad. “It uh… it doesn’t sound as good on the phone as I was hoping than in person, does it?” He chuckled out, trying to find a way to lighten the mood. I shook my head, forgetting for a moment that he couldn't see me. “No, it does not.” I replied, clutching my phone close to my ear trying to imagine that he’s here right in front of me and his voice isn’t so staticy.

“You want to say hi to Alpine? She’s right here.” I looked down at the small animal on my lap as my hand began softly scratching her head. “Of course I do! Put her on.” I placed my phone on the arm rest and pressed the speaker button on my screen. “You’re on speaker, baby.” I heard him shuffling on the other end of the line before speaking up. “Alpine? You there?” The cat’s ears turned up and looked towards my phone. “You takin’ good care of your momma?”

She stood up and leaned closer to my phone, inspecting it. It’s like I could see the cogwheels in her head turn as she wondered how she could hear her dad’s voice if he wasn’t here. “She’s been keeping me company.” I smiled and heard him laugh on the other end. “Really?” He said. I could almost picture him smiling. “Yeah! We’re best buddies now. We have so many intellectual conversations.”

“I can’t wait to see it in person. I gotta get Sam to help me figure out how to take a video so I can just do it without messing up when I get home.” I chuckled at the thought of poor Sam having to deal with Bucky’s lack of phone knowledge and the constant bickering they’re bound to have. I swear, sometimes he really does act like a 100-somethin’ year old man. “Sergeant Barnes, you are something else.”

“Hey, you know I still have trouble understanding! I didn’t grow up with this kind of thing.”

“Then how is it that my grandmother is able to figure out Facebook better than you?” I laughed as he grumbled. “Your grandma had more time to figure it out! It’s not my fault she’s hip.”

I could just imagine what his face looks like right now. His eyebrows are probably scrunched up, his gaze is on the floor and his lips are pouty and just waiting to be kissed. I let out a chuckle and looked around our house. The decorations were put up soon after Thanksgiving. We played Christmas music in the background as we both decorated our tree, Alpine seeming to think this is another place for her to climb and make hers. Once Bucky put the star on top, everything just felt perfect, even though I knew I wouldn’t see him on the day of. “I’m really sorry that I wasn’t able to be there this year.” He said. “I tried my best to – ”

“Bucky, don’t worry about it. It’s okay, I completely understand. Our line of work doesn’t exactly allow us to have vacations, sort to speak. I’m not holding it against you.”

“I know, doll, but still. I thought I would at least be home for Christmas.”

“I know, baby, I know but there’s nothing else we can do about it. We’re in two different places and flights are backed up, so I guess we’ll just have to make due with what we’ve got.” I could feel tiny vibrations on my leg as Alpine purred against me, my hand not stopping to show her love. She seems content. He sighed and spoke up once again. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

I smiled. “I know you will.”

He cleared his throat as if he was trying to mask the sound of something. “Bucky… was that.. were you in a – ”

“Baby, did you get the thing that I sent you yet?” He cut me off as I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. “Um.. no, no I haven’t. I haven’t gotten anything.” He let out a groan. “No? Are you sure? FedEx promised me it would arrive in time for Christmas.” Alpine leaned in closer to my hand as I scratched the top of her head. “Doll, can you please do me a favor and keep an eye out for it? It could be arriving any minute.” I smiled to myself as I nodded. “Okay, I will.”

“I wanna hear as you see what I got you for Christmas.” I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “Bucky, you know I will love whatever you got me, but what I really want is you and I don’t think FedEx can send people over like that.” He let out a laugh. “Maybe they’d let me if Steve was to put in a good word.”

“You’re such an idiot.” I laughed and Alpine stirred in my lap, a quiet reminder for me to not move or else she’s gone and she’s the only thing in this house keeping me company. I could hear him huffing on the other line as I tried to figure out what he’s doing. “Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Where are you?”

“What do you mean where am I? You know where I’m at.”

“No, I mean are you outside? I could hear you huffin’ and puffin’. Are you trying to keep warm?”

“Maybe there’s another reason why you can hear me breathin’ so hard. I’m talkin’ to a pretty girl on the phone and she misses me just as much as I miss her.”

I stayed silent for a moment as I processed his words and gasped. You cheeky little fucker. “James!” My outburst along with Bucky’s laugh startled Alpine once more as she got up and left. “No! Kitty come back!” I could hear him practically wheezing in the background as she left to God knows where in our house. “What happened?”

“You made me scare Alpine out of my lap!” I whined as he continued to laugh at my expense. “Hey, you were the one who got the joke late and yelled, scaring our poor baby Alpine! That’s not my fault!”

“It is too! If you hadn’t made that joke, I wouldn’t have reacted that way!” I’m sure my face must be red from embarrassment as he continued on. “And to answer your question, with no hidden dirty jokes, I went out for a walk. I couldn’t stay in that hotel with Sam trying to find ways to decorate my arm with holiday decorations. Note to self, don’t let Sam buy tinsel and say it’s for the “tree at the Stark Tower”.”

I smiled at the thought of Steve being in the middle of these two teasing each other like children and not knowing which side he should take. Hearing his voice, even if it’s not crystal clear, makes me forget for a moment that he’s not here. There’s almost this sort of echo in the house that really makes you feel like you’re alone. It still breaks my heart, but I wouldn’t tell him to make him feel even worse about it. He’s trying his best and that’s all I could really hope for.

But I do wish he was here. Wherever Bucky goes, that’s home.

“Hey, I’m gonna take a wild guess here and say that you didn’t take the trash cans in like I asked you to.”

I was silent for a moment as I thought about what he said. “You didn’t, did you?” I shook my head and spoke. “Um no, I’m pretty sure I did.” I tried to lie and pretend like I didn’t forget, which in fact I know I did.

“Oh, really? Hmm… are you sure? ‘Cause something is telling me that you forgot.” I smiled and leaned back more into the couch and got comfortable. “I know I tend to be forgetful, but I’m pretty sure I already took them in.” I heard him chuckle. “Alright, alright I’ll believe you. I know you wouldn’t lie to me, baby..”

“Trying to put the guilt trip on me even when you’re not here, baby?” I laughed and grabbed the remote to turn on the TV. “I’m just stating the facts.. oh, hey, one second! I’m getting another call. I’ll be right back.” I waited for him as he placed me on hold and began to browse through Netflix to look for some good Christmas films to watch.

Before I could go to my suggestion list, I heard the doorbell ring.

“Weird, wrong number…” I heard his voice once again as he took me off hold. “Hey, I just heard the doorbell ring.” I spoke as I went to stand up. “It’s probably FedEx. Go check it out and take me with you!” I stood up, grabbed my phone and went to go and find a sweater to quickly put on. “Just uh do me a favor.” He requested. “Sure, baby. What is it?”

“I know you’re lonely at home, but try not to check out the delivery man too much, okay? Even if he is very handsome.” I laughed and shook my head. “Ohh, I don’t know Barnes. I gotta see what kind of a package I’m lookin’ at here.” I joked as he laughed. I walked over to the front door and opened it. My body stood still as my phone fell out of my hands.

“Delivery, for Mrs. – ” Before he could even finish the sentence, I jumped up and wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him towards me. I could feel and hear him laughing against me as his arms embraced me tighter into him. I could feel the cold air from outside come into the house, but I didn’t care. He was warm and he was standing at our doorstep.

He pulled me back so he could look at me and I could see a sheen of tears in his baby blues as he leaned down for a kiss. Both hands cupped my cheeks as he held me in place, his cold lips meeting my own. He’s grown out his stubble and it lightly tickled my top lip. I reached my hands up to tug at his hair and felt him smile against me as soft moans of content left his mouth. He pulled away too soon for my liking and looked down at me and laughed.

“Did ya miss me, doll?” I pulled him in for another kiss as he mumbled against my lips. “I can hardly tell.” His metal hand moved a strand of hair away from my face as he continued to smile at me. “But… how are you here? You’re supposed to be in – ”

“I know I know but we managed to finish the mission early and catch a flight. Turns out, Steve doesn’t mind using the Captain America card to get on a plane while running late.” He chuckled. He rubbed small circles on my cheek as I leaned into him. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too.” He leaned in to grant me one more kiss before pulling away to make a comment. “I know it seems hard to believe, but I made you a promise that I will try to be home for Christmas and I keep my promises… unlike someone I know who didn’t bring in the trash cans.”

Fuck…

“Oops? You’re not upset, right?” I asked as he shook his head. “No, baby I’m not upset. I could care less about them. I’ve just gone and gave myself the best present a guy could ask for… the love of his life, crying and cheeks reddened in his arms, clinging to him with all the might they can muster..” He laughed as he held me against him.

“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere… now let’s get inside, get a warm drink and see if we can warm ourselves up with each other.” He winked as I playfully slapped his arm. “Let’s go surprise Alpine.”

“Ahh! That’s right!” He walked in and yelled out. “Alpine? Daddy’s home! Where are you sweetheart?” I closed the door behind us and smiled at the thought of him finally being home. He took off his jacket just as she came out from wherever she was hiding. He crouched down as she walked up to welcome him home. “Hey, you. Ya missed me?” He chuckled as he looked up at me.

“Doll?”

“Yeah?” He smiled up at me, his cheeks rosy as he uttered, “Merry Christmas.”

~~~~

I hope y’all liked it! Please let me know your thoughts! Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #christmas imagine #Bucky Barnes christmas #Bucky Barnes Christmas imagine #12 days of christmas #12 days of ficmas #please go easy on me #i haven't written in so long #i hope y'all like it #✨🎄✨🎄

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mushroomates · 9 months ago

Text

merry headcanons

as a child, he sincerely believed he could talk to cats. this ended at age 13.

can do cartwheels. pippin cannot. this is brought up in arguments more frequently that imagined

has a filter, contrary to some of what he says. he also acts as pippins filter

possesses an uncanny ability to sniff out weed. can tell the quality of such by smell alone. can also tell you where it may have come from, and how it was grown

has a small patch of cannabis growing in a back room of his estate. it used to be a sunroom but is now a greenhouse/weed lab.

merry religiously documents it’s growth, soil conditions, exposure to light, and most importantly: potentness

unfortunately this has manifested in a very strong but unpleasant tasting plant. this sort is hearty, can grow under any conditions, but really just tastes/smells. absolutely awful.

he did try and recruit sam into helping him until sam realized what was going on and wanted “no business in such a practice”

uses samples saved from the whole Saruman takedown and propagates what he can. also keeps some for comparison. he is very organized with this and has a whole spreadsheet he references frequently

merry also likes to know where everything is at all times. he’s not super weird about it but everything does have its place and he will know if you move it

got into furniture making. makes. questionable, ‘innovative’ ‘contemporary’ and ‘unique’ pieces

in reality it’s because he likes to make chairs that specifically make people want to leave because of how uncomfortable they are

like. he loves his family. but sometimes they get the squeaky chair. there’s a table with one leg slightly smaller than the rest that makes everyone uneasy. a couch that is just too low to the ground and cushy, so that you sink in but your legs are cramped. there’s a chair with the back curved slightly too steep, so when someone sits in it their posture is terrible. it also has a shorter than normal seat so you can’t scoot forward either

it’s not torture. people can endure it. it’s just mean to make sure no one does for very long.

this set is strategically in the foyer, so if he likes you well enough you’re granted entity into the living room with normal furniture. which is very tastefully decorated and has framed artwork of his many nieces and nephews.

he absolutely adores the littlest members of the shire and will spoil them however he can

draws maps of the most absurd things. just. maps that no one even asked for but are delightfully absurd

“directions to bagend, avoiding all dogs, aunts, sheep and red mail boxes” “brandybuck estate, but only the trees” “every pub in the shire, and who to avoid on your way back from a good time”

and, famously, “pippins brain”

this is a circle, and in it, two singular dots

one saying “pipe weed” and the other “bad ideas”

there use to be a third dot, that said “lack of cart wheels” but that has been a angerly scribbled out (culprit is still a ‘mystery’ )

decent navigational skills

of course, no one listens to him.

judges the annual pie contest

is actually. really good at it. has a very defined palette dispute the copious amount of weed he smokes

“is that rubarb? it adds a wonderful complexity to the strawberry and pistachio- though, i’d recommend not using molasses next time instead try brown sugar.”

like. merry. why do you know these things.

also judges the pie EATING contest. this is because there is a scandalous amount of cheating and he was part of a huge pie-in-the-trousers bust and now sits in the jury as an esteemed member

pippin thinks he’s a traitor to the cause. this is because pippin was a primary perpetrator in said pie-in-the-trousers bust.

has two pet rabbits. by pets i mean fellow members of the “raiding farmer maggots crops” club, who he saved from a few rodent traps and took home

merrys morals, to recap, does not allow him to permit pie-crimes, but he is totally okay with casual thievery

did not have the heart to said rabbits as they were cut from the same cloth. he let them out the back yard once he got home and they just. kind of. stayed

their names are gandalf and gandalf because ones gray and ones white. many hobbits have been taking after that and also naming their animals gandalf. this of course pisses gandalf off to no end.

is a great babysitter. mature enough to not get into trouble but still has a childish sense of adventure, and lots of stories

he is the trusted fun uncle. pippin being the reckless fun uncle.

he acts stories out more than tells them to the kids, as his way with words is not so great as his way with sound effects.

also makes his own sock puppets and will occasionally put on small shows for the kiddos during family gatherings. fan favorites are “merry takes down the witch-king” “the march of the ents” and “the hobbit who couldn’t cartwheel” (the last ends with the hobbit simply learns to accept that everyone has different talents- something not true to life because pippin still hasn’t accepted this)

is high key very smart. doesn’t do a lot with this. he prefers to enjoy the simple things in life, and has found that so long as he makes sure he and his are looked after, life can be very easy.

that being said. he is not as care free as he’d like to be

is very prepared and well organized. has rations for days and a go-bag, even in his later years. everyone mocked him for years but it took him maybe ten minutes to grab everything and join up with frodo and sam. he also has extra go-bags, which is why it only took pippin 15 minutes (an extra five because pippin lost his bag about two seconds after merry gave it to him)

merry got the “anxiety” hobbit gene that manifests in being (only slightly) a prepper. there’s cans of beans and fruit as well as bottled water hidden in the cellar of the brandy-buck estate. enough food to last nearly five years, but for a hobbit, three.

this gives him peace of mind, as he knows he is prepared for whatever life gives him

he also knows he has braved many things before and anything that may come now will be significantly less of a hardship

he will never have to face down another witch-king, or more importantly, go without second breakfast

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