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goldfades · 14 hours ago

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crazy cat people───joe burrow⁹

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�� ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧�� | 4.4k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and joe had always been cat people—dogs were just too high maintenance, too needy. but you were never in a hurry to get cats until one night, joe finds a cat on a roadie and decides to bring her home.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | literally nothing but cat dad joe, and dog slander (JK!! not really, but we all know joe likes cats better). inspired by this clip.

The thing about Joe is that he’s always been a cat person.

You figured it out on your second date when the conversation somehow derailed into a passionate debate about why people automatically assume dogs are superior. It started off as a joke—some exaggerated takes for the sake of banter—but then Joe hit you with a well-structured argument about the independent nature of cats, their low-maintenance lifestyle, and the way they choose their people rather than blindly loving everyone.

“You ever seen a cat follow some random stranger home just ‘cause they waved at it? No. That’s some dog behavior.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “No self-respect.”

That was the moment you knew he was the one.

Well, not actually, but it definitely solidified your interest. Three years later, the two of you were still going strong, bound together by an undeniable connection, a deep understanding of each other’s quirks, and a shared stance that dogs—while undeniably adorable—were just a little too much. Too excitable. Too dependent. Too… needy.

“We’d be cat people,” you had declared one night while curled up on the couch together, his arm draped lazily around you. “Like, if we were to get a pet.”

Joe hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, but I feel like we’d be picky about it. Can’t just have any cat. Gotta be one with personality.”

“A little bit of an asshole,” you added.

He chuckled. “Exactly.”

Despite countless conversations about what you’d name your hypothetical future cat (the list had ranged from elegant, sophisticated names like Theodora to complete chaos like Little Shit), you never actually got one. Between Joe’s insane schedule and your own busy life, it never felt like the right time. You weren’t the type to impulsively adopt an animal just because it seemed like a cute idea—you took responsibility seriously. Joe was the same way.

But that didn’t stop you from sending him TikToks of cats daily. And it definitely didn’t stop him from pausing the TV anytime a cat appeared in a commercial, just to point and go, “That one’s kinda cool.”

It was just one of those things. A little inside joke, a shared fantasy, a part of your relationship that existed in theory but had yet to materialize.

Until Joe came back from a road trip with something unexpected.

Something small. And furry. And wrapped in the hoodie he had worn on the plane.

A cat.

He met your wide-eyed stare with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, funny story…”

It was one of those quiet, in-between days where everything felt a little dull without Joe around. You were used to it by now—his road trips, the stretches of time where you had to keep yourself entertained—but no matter how well you adjusted, the house always felt bigger when he wasn’t in it.

You filled the day the best way you knew how. Running errands, grabbing coffee from the spot down the street, making small talk with the barista who always remembered your order. You spent an unreasonable amount of time in Target, browsing the aisles aimlessly, tossing things into your cart that you definitely didn’t need but convinced yourself were essentials.

A candle? Necessary. A new throw blanket even though you already had five? An investment. A little ceramic dish shaped like a cat’s face? Joe would think it was funny.

By the time you got home, the sun was beginning to set, casting the living room in soft golden light. You went through your usual routine—changing into something comfier, throwing your hair up, and scrolling through your phone while curled up on the couch.

Joe had texted you earlier to say his flight landed on time, but you weren’t sure when he’d actually walk through the door. Traveling always took it out of him, and sometimes he lingered at the facility longer than necessary, just to settle back into the routine of being home.

So when you heard the familiar sound of the front door unlocking, you perked up, setting your phone down.

Joe was home.

You stood, stretching a little before padding over to greet him—only to immediately freeze in place.

Because Joe Burrow, your extremely predictable, routine-driven boyfriend, was standing in the doorway holding a cat.

Not a cat carrier. Not a box from the pet store with a new cat inside. No, he was physically holding a cat in his arms, cradling it like some kind of newborn wrapped in the oversized hoodie he had worn on the plane.

“Uh…” You blinked, trying to make sense of the situation. “Joe?”

Joe, looking far too casual for someone who had just walked into your shared home with a whole animal, shot you a sheepish grin.

“So, funny story…” He shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on the tiny creature, who—shockingly—seemed completely unbothered.

You didn’t say anything. You just stared. Because what the hell were you supposed to say?

Joe cleared his throat, rocking back on his heels. “I found him at a gas station. In, like… the middle of nowhere.”

Your brain short-circuited. “What?”

“Yeah. Just… chilling. No collar, no tags, nothing.” He looked down at the cat, then back at you, as if that explanation was supposed to justify the fact that he had apparently just kidnapped an animal. “He walked right up to me. Super chill. Thought, you know, maybe he needed a home.”

“You—” You ran a hand down your face, processing. “So you just… took him?”

Joe shrugged, completely unbothered. “No one stopped me.”

You stared at him, then at the cat, then back at him.

The cat—a small, scrappy-looking thing with fluffy black fur and bright green eyes—gave the smallest little stretch before curling back up into the fabric of Joe’s hoodie, as if this was the most natural situation in the world.

A sigh left your lips, half-exasperated, half-amused. “You stole a cat.”

Joe scoffed. “I didn’t steal him. I rescued him.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you check to see if he belonged to anyone?”

Joe paused. “I mean… he was alone.”

“That is not an answer.”

“Well, no one else was around,” Joe defended. “It was late. Freezing cold. I couldn’t just leave him there.”

You crossed your arms, arching a brow. “So your solution was to bring him home?”

Joe, completely unrepentant, grinned. “Yeah. He’s cool, right?”

You exhaled slowly, pressing your fingers against your temples before shaking your head.

This man.

This six-foot-four NFL quarterback who spent three years claiming you guys would be extremely selective about what kind of cat you got, had apparently abandoned all standards the second a gas station stray blinked at him.

And worse? You were already kind of attached.

Because the damn cat was still curled up in his hoodie, looking completely at peace, like he had already decided he belonged here.

You sighed, waving them both inside. “I can’t believe you.”

Joe grinned, stepping past you and into the house, clearly taking that as a win.

“Should we name him?” he asked, already making himself comfortable on the couch, cat still in tow.

You groaned.

“Oh my God.”

The first night with Miss Honey felt strangely natural, like she had always belonged here. Apparently, you guys had been misgendering her the whole time.

After the initial shock of Joe casually waltzing into your home with a stray cat, the two of you got to work making sure she was okay. A quick check revealed she was mostly healthy—just a little underweight and carrying a few ticks, which you carefully removed while Joe held her still, murmuring soft reassurances. Despite being a random cat from a gas station, she was surprisingly chill about it, blinking up at you with those big green eyes like she already trusted you.

“This is insane,” you had muttered, brushing your fingers through her soft fur.

Joe, stretched out on the couch beside you, smirked. “Yeah, but you love it.”

You rolled your eyes because, of course, he was right.

That night, the three of you curled up on the couch and put on Matilda, your mutual comfort movie. Joe made popcorn, you pulled out the throw blanket you had impulse-bought earlier that day, and Miss Honey—named after the warm, soft-spoken teacher you both adored—made herself right at home between you, paws tucked neatly beneath her little body.

“She’s purring,” Joe whispered at one point, as if he was afraid saying it too loud would make her stop.

You had just smiled, gently scratching behind her ears. “Yeah. I think she likes us.”

It took less than twenty-four hours for Miss Honey to fully take over the house.

By the next morning, she had already established herself as a permanent fixture, weaving between your legs as you made coffee, hopping onto the couch like she owned the place, and—much to Joe’s delight—curling up on his chest while he lounged around watching film.

“She’s got good taste,” he mused, running a slow hand down her back.

You, sitting cross-legged on the floor sorting through your Target bags from yesterday, shot him a look. “You mean ‘cause she likes you?”

Joe grinned, glancing down at the cat who was currently making biscuits against his hoodie. “I mean, can you blame her?”

You snorted. “Unreal.”

Still, you had to admit—Miss Honey really did love Joe.

At first, you thought it was just convenience. He ran warm, he was still for long periods of time, and his heartbeat was steady enough to lull anyone to sleep. But over the next few days, it became clear that her attachment went deeper than that.

She followed him from room to room, her tiny paws padding against the hardwood whenever he moved. If Joe was at the kitchen counter making breakfast, Miss Honey was right there beside him, tail flicking lazily. If he was tying his shoes by the door, she sat next to him, watching intently like she had somewhere to be, too.

It was ridiculous.

“She’s obsessed with you,” you pointed out one night, arms crossed as you watched her bat playfully at the drawstrings of his hoodie.

Joe grinned, scratching under her chin. “Yeah, but don’t be jealous.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the warmth blooming in your chest.

Because, truthfully, you loved it.

You loved that she trusted him. Loved that this cat—who had spent who-knows-how-long fending for herself—had chosen you both, nestled herself into the space between you like she had been there forever.

It didn’t take long for Miss Honey to establish a routine.

Every morning, without fail, she woke Joe up first. Not you—Joe.

You learned this the hard way when you woke up one morning to a quiet, disgruntled “Jesus,” followed by the sound of Joe shifting beside you. Blinking blearily, you turned over, only to find Miss Honey perched delicately on his chest, staring down at him like she was assessing whether or not it was time for him to get up.

“Babe,” Joe whispered, voice still thick with sleep. “Your cat is harassing me.”

You stifled a laugh, rubbing your eyes. “She’s your cat too.”

“Yeah, well, tell her to chill.”

Miss Honey, completely ignoring his complaints, took that exact moment to lean down and press her tiny nose against his, like a little wake-up kiss.

You melted on the spot.

Joe groaned, but even half-asleep, he couldn’t hide his smile.

From then on, it became a thing. Every morning, she woke Joe up first, then trotted to the kitchen like a little queen expecting breakfast. She had a schedule, and she stuck to it.

By the end of the second week, she had also taken over bedtime.

One night, you were finishing up in the bathroom when Joe called out from the bedroom, amusement lacing his voice.

“You’re getting replaced.”

You stepped into the room, brows furrowed. “What?”

Joe tilted his head toward the bed, where Miss Honey was curled up on his pillow, perfectly nestled into the space where your head usually went.

You crossed your arms. “Unreal.”

Joe smirked, patting the mattress beside him. “Sorry, babe. She called dibs.”

You shook your head, sliding into bed anyway, and—because Miss Honey was the most spoiled creature on the planet—you let her stay.

She purred contently between you, tucked snugly between your bodies, and Joe reached out, running a slow hand down her back before catching your gaze.

“I think she was meant to be ours,” he murmured, voice soft in the dark.

Your heart swelled.

Because he was right.

At first, Miss Honey had been a little more drawn to Joe. It wasn’t anything personal—she liked you just fine—but there was something about him that had her stuck to him like glue. Maybe it was his warmth, or the steady way he carried himself, or the fact that he had been the one to scoop her up from the cold and bring her home.

But after a couple of weeks, things started shifting.

It wasn’t sudden. There was no grand moment of realization where she decided, Actually, I love you too. It was slower than that—small moments that gradually built into something solid, something certain.

It was the way she started lingering in the kitchen while you made breakfast, winding around your ankles, soft fur brushing against your bare legs as she meowed up at you like she was part of the conversation.

It was how she started climbing onto your lap while you were reading, kneading her tiny paws into your stomach before curling up and purring herself to sleep, like you were something safe.

It was how she started following you into the bathroom whenever you did your skincare at night, sitting neatly by the sink and watching you with lazy, half-lidded eyes, as if she was deeply invested in your routine.

She was still Joe’s shadow, but you had become hers.

And it didn’t go unnoticed.

“She likes you now,” Joe teased one night, watching as Miss Honey happily stretched out on your chest, perfectly content.

You smirked, scratching under her chin. “She always liked me.”

“Nah,” he mused, tossing an arm around your shoulders. “She tolerated you. Big difference.”

You gasped dramatically. “How dare you?”

Joe chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Hey, it’s a compliment. You won her over.”

And you had.

Miss Honey wasn’t just a cat anymore. She was your cat. An irreplaceable little presence in the house.

Joe, naturally, leaned into it full force.

It started with the essentials.

A bed. A few toys. Some high-quality cat food that Joe meticulously researched before purchasing. He wasn’t about to give her just anything—he wanted the best, reading reviews like he was about to draft a new teammate.

You had laughed the first time you caught him looking up “best cat food brands for digestion” on his phone.

“Joe, she was literally eating bugs two weeks ago.”

“Yeah, and now she’s got standards,” he shot back, tapping on a link. “This one’s got good ingredients.”

And that was just the beginning.

Before long, Joe was going all out—buying her the best litter (something natural and odor-free, because only the best for our girl), a selection of premium treats (“That Temptations crap is all filler,” he had said, with so much conviction you almost cried laughing), and multiple collars in different colors and patterns.

One morning, you caught him kneeling by the front door, carefully adjusting the tiny blue velvet collar around Miss Honey’s neck.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, leaning against the doorway, watching as he straightened the little golden name tag.

Joe glanced up, grinning. “She looks good though, right?”

You had to admit—she did.

But the real turning point? The sweaters.

That was unexpected.

It had started as a joke—one lazy evening, the two of you scrolling through Etsy, looking at cat accessories for fun.

“Wouldn’t she look cute in this?” you had said, showing Joe a tiny, knitted sweater in a soft cream color.

Joe snorted. “No way she’d wear that.”

Turns out, she would. And she’d like it.

The first time you slipped a tiny sweater over her head, Miss Honey barely reacted—just gave a big stretch, turned in a circle, and promptly plopped down on Joe’s lap like nothing was different.

Joe, stunned, just blinked.

“You’re telling me she’s okay with this?”

“She’s thriving,” you corrected, grinning.

And from that moment on, Joe took it as a personal mission to build her wardrobe.

Over the next week, more sweaters arrived in the mail—different colors, different materials, even a tiny hoodie with ears.

“This is getting out of hand,” you commented as Joe unboxed yet another package.

He held up a tiny lavender sweater, inspecting the material. “It’s for layering.”

You stared at him. “Joe, she’s a cat.”

Joe just smirked. “A stylish one.”

Miss Honey, stretched out on the couch, gave a slow blink, completely unbothered by the chaos she had brought into your lives.

And, honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Three months in, and neither of you could remember what life was like before Miss Honey.

It wasn’t just that she had settled into your home—she had settled into you, woven herself into the rhythm of your days so seamlessly that the idea of waking up without her little body curled between you or coming home to a silent house felt… wrong.

Mornings were different now.

Gone were the days of lazy, drawn-out wake-ups—Miss Honey made sure of that. If Joe’s alarm didn’t get him up, her tiny little paws kneading into his chest certainly did. And if he dared try to roll over and ignore her? She’d take matters into her own hands.

Or, more accurately, her own whiskers.

One morning, you caught her using her best tactic yet—pressing her nose right against Joe’s, whiskers tickling his face until he groaned and finally peeled one eye open.

“You are the most spoiled creature on the planet,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

Miss Honey responded by immediately rubbing her face against his chin, purring like a little engine.

Joe exhaled a laugh, eyes still heavy as he let his fingers trail through her fur. “Unreal.”

Meanwhile, your mornings had changed in a different way.

You used to make coffee alone, sipping it in peaceful solitude before starting your day. Now? You had company.

Miss Honey had claimed her spot on the counter—perched delicately by the coffee machine, watching your every move like an executive overseeing production.

“Supervising?” you’d ask her, sprinkling cinnamon into your cup.

She’d blink, tail flicking lazily.

Joe, walking into the kitchen at just the right moment, would snort. “She’s your little manager.”

And it was true—Miss Honey was involved in everything.

She had a routine. A life. A set of unspoken rules that ran the house.

If one of you was on the couch? She was there too, curled up in the crook of your leg or sprawled across Joe’s chest. If you were cooking? She was on the floor, watching you with silent judgment, like a tiny food critic.

If Joe was watching game film, she’d climb onto his lap and stare at the screen, like she had some real thoughts about the Bengals' offense.

She had her little preferences, too. She didn’t care for loud noises but loved when Joe played music on his speakers. She always sat with you while you read, always meowed when she wanted attention, and—for some reason—seemed particularly obsessed with Joe’s socks.

“She’s weird,” Joe said one night, watching as she enthusiastically dragged one of his socks across the living room like it was her prized possession.

“You brought home a gas station cat,” you reminded him. “What did you expect?”

Joe exhaled a laugh, shaking his head as he reached down to scratch behind her ears. “She’s perfect.”

And she was.

She had changed things in the smallest, most meaningful ways.

The house didn’t feel empty when Joe was away anymore—not when you had her little paws padding around, her soft purrs filling the silence. Even on the loneliest days, she made it better, curling into you like she just knew.

And Joe—he had changed, too.

If he had been a cat person before, he was fully in his Cat Dad era now.

It had started subtly. The good food, the high-quality litter, the little sweaters he kept ordering. But at some point, it escalated.

Joe started carrying her around the house, tucking her into his hoodie when he was watching film, talking to her like she was an actual human being.

“Alright, Miss Honey,” he said one afternoon, kneeling in front of her as she lounged lazily on her little cat bed. “We got options. You wanna wear the blue sweater or the gray one today?”

You, standing in the doorway with your arms crossed, stared at him. “Joe.”

He looked up, completely unashamed. “She likes choices.”

“She’s a cat.”

Joe just smirked, holding up the tiny sweaters. “A stylish one.”

And then there was the Ja’Marr conversation.

One night, after practice, Ja’Marr had made a casual joke—something about how “one cat turns into five real quick,” laughing at the idea of Joe slowly becoming that guy.

You had laughed too, shaking your head. “No way. We’re a one-cat household.”

Joe had nodded in agreement, completely confident. “Yeah, no shot.”

But then… a week later, he changed his tune.

You were curled up together on the couch, Miss Honey stretched between you, when Joe sighed, absentmindedly running his fingers down her back.

“She’s kinda lonely,” he mused.

You blinked. “What?”

Joe glanced over, tilting his head toward Miss Honey, who was currently kneading her little paws into his thigh. “I mean, she’s got us, but, like… I bet she’d like a friend.”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes. “Joe.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, tone easy, like he wasn’t suggesting something huge. “She’s got so much energy. I think she’d like a buddy.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my God.”

Joe grinned. “Just think about it.”

And just like that, the conversation had started. And you had been so firm about it. Absolutely not. No second cat.

Miss Honey was thriving—happy, healthy, and fully attached to both of you. The idea of bringing another cat into the house felt risky. What if she didn’t like it? What if she got territorial? What if she felt betrayed?

Joe, of course, had started planting the idea like a damn politician.

“I just think she gets bored sometimes,” he would say casually while Miss Honey chased her own tail in the living room.

“She’s got a lot of love to give,” he mused one night, watching her rub up against every single one of your ankles like she was making the rounds.

“She needs a little sidekick,” he argued as she sprawled out dramatically on the kitchen floor, meowing at nothing in particular.

You shot him down every time.

Until, of course, fate decided to step in.

It was a random Saturday, and you and Joe were out running errands—nothing special, just a casual grocery run. You had been debating what kind of bread to get (Joe insisted the multigrain one tasted just as good as white bread, which was a blatant lie), when something caught his eye.

“Babe,” Joe said, suddenly abandoning the cart and heading toward the entrance. “Look.”

You turned, frowning as you followed his gaze.

Right outside the store, under a big white tent, was a cat rescue group—volunteers standing beside crates filled with tiny, curious faces.

A pet adoption event.

Joe immediately turned to you, eyes lighting up. “This is a sign.”

“No, it’s not,” you argued, grabbing the cart. “It’s just Saturday.”

“It’s a sign.”

You groaned as he practically dragged you toward the tent, already grinning like he had just won the lottery.

And then you saw them.

The kittens.

Tiny, wiggly little things with big eyes and oversized paws, rolling around in their blankets or climbing the sides of their enclosures with impressive determination.

You told yourself you were just looking.

Joe was crouched down almost immediately, eyes scanning the different crates as the volunteers smiled at him.

“You guys looking to adopt?” one of them asked.

Joe grinned. “Maybe.”

You shot him a glare. “We are not looking to—”

And then you saw her.

A tiny gray tabby, tucked in the corner of her crate, nibbling sleepily at her own paw. Big round eyes, the softest little face, and an expression that screamed, Yeah, I know I’m cute.

You inhaled sharply.

“Oh no,” Joe murmured, catching the look on your face.

You glanced at him, then back at the kitten.

“… I wanna hold her.”

Joe grinned. “Knew it.”

The second the volunteer placed the kitten in your hands, you were done for. She was so small, her little body barely bigger than your palm. She meowed—tiny and sweet—before immediately nuzzling into the crook of your neck, purring like she had just found home.

Joe, watching intently, exhaled a laugh. “Oh yeah. We’re done for.”

That night, you walked into your house as a two-cat household.

Miss Honey was not immediately sold.

The introduction process was slow—gentle, cautious. You followed all the steps, kept them separated at first, let them get used to each other’s scent. But, much to your surprise, Miss Honey didn’t react with any real aggression.

Mostly? She just seemed deeply confused.

The first time she saw the kitten, she just stared, tail flicking, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.

Joe, crouched beside her, grinned. “You got a little sister, Honey.”

Miss Honey turned her head, fixing him with a look.

You laughed. “I don’t think she asked for one.”

Still, within a few days, things started shifting.

The kitten—who you decided to name Fig—was relentless in her pursuit of Miss Honey’s love.

She followed her everywhere, mimicked her every move, and—on more than one occasion—attempted to curl up against her, only to be met with a single, unimpressed flick of the tail.

But then, one morning, you woke up to find them curled up together on the couch—Miss Honey’s paw resting protectively over Fig’s tiny little body.

Joe, standing beside you, smirked. “Told you she needed a buddy.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart felt full.

And that’s how you and Joe became crazy cat people.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fan fic #bengals #jb9 #joe shiesty #cincinnati football #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x oc

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malum-forev · 16 hours ago

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Casual

Summary: a glimpse into your secret relationship with Bucky. The one he threw away.

CABNW!Bucky x Agent!Reader

“This is so, so wrong.” Bucky mumbles against your lips, hands tangled in your hair.

“But it feels so right.” You counter, looking up at the heaving super soldier through your eyelashes.

He wasn’t all wrong. It was heavily looked down upon for a senior member to fraternize with a younger trainee. But who cares when the two of you are under the influence of heavy alcohol and worn out from your most recent mission?

It should’ve ended after that. You were supposed to be a one night stand. But Bucky couldn’t get you out of his mind. And what bothered him the most was that you seemed unfazed.

“Was it not as mind blowing for you as it was for me?” Bucky says in between deep thrusts, the wrinkle between his eyebrow creasing.

“What?” You ask breathlessly. A second ago you were on a mind numbing roll heading toward climax and now, he’s completely taken you out of it with just a couple of words. “What are you talking about.”

He dives deeper, making your eyes roll back. “You’re the best I’ve ever had in decades, and you just acted like I was average.”

You have to stop yourself from laughing. “Didn’t we agree that we were going to keep our little meeting low key?”

“Low key doesn’t mean forget about it completely.” Bucky says with a huff.

Your eyebrows raise. “You want recognition.”

“I want you to admit I’m the best you’ve ever had.” His voice is gravelly, his eyes scan your face like he’s trying to catch every single movement in it.

“And if it wasn’t?” You challenge.

“Then you’d be lying.” He trails his vibranium arm over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“How do you know?” You whisper.

“Because I was right there with you, doll.” He smiles against your lips, driving his hips up.

A couple of hookups turned into him leaving an extra set of clothes at your place. Supposedly he only did it to make your meet ups more efficient. But you knew that the Sergeant was lying to you, and to himself. Every morning he’d make his way through your kitchen, making two coffees and cleaning up whatever you’d left the night before.

A few months later, you cleared a couple of drawers for him. And Bucky gladly left his favorite Henley’s at your place along with his infamous leather jacket.

Neither one of you knew what this was but you were having fun. And that’s what counted, right?

You liked moving up the ranks without having anyone undermine your work just because you’re sleeping with Bucky. And he liked not having to be vulnerable in front of other people.

But soon, months turned into years. And before you knew it, Bucky was bringing you flowers every Friday and staying over more days than not.

He’d share his fear of navigating the new world without a clear purpose. And you’d talk about how this job made you feel lonely most of the time.

Your fellow agents would always try to set you up with whoever they knew. You’d politely decline the blind dates, not missing the way Bucky would give whoever would be your potential date, a tougher routine.

And Bucky, well, no one was really trying to set him up with anyone.

But your favorite part was work functions. Galas and charities where the two of you would act like strangers only to go back home to the same address. It was like a game for you two, until it wasn’t.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you nod your head, ordering a cocktail at the bar.

He tilts his head. “Agent.”

You should have known something was off, his eyes were dull and his voice sounded tight. But you assumed it was just because of the setting. Bucky never felt comfortable in places like this.

“What’s wrong?” You ask under your breath.

“Nothing,” his voice is clipped.

A photographer comes close to you two, holding up his camera and getting a picture before either one of you could object.

“Delete that,” Bucky snaps. “Now!”

“What’s gotten into you?” You hiss, waving away the innocent photographer.

“We can’t be seen together.” His blue eyes look everywhere but yours. “It’s not good for my image to be with a former widow.”

Your jaw slacks. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Sure, Bucky had expressed some interest in running for congress but you never thought he was serious. And between constant missions and Bucky staying back, you weren’t quite up to date with the man you’ve been seeing for three years.

“I hired a publicist,” He shoots a look back to a man standing close to Sam. “He recommends I stay away with my former team. It looks better for my campaign if I focus on the future, rather than the past.”

“The past?” Your breath gets caught in your throat.

Bucky looks down at the floor.

“So us…” You couldn’t finish your sentence.

“Us?” Bucky raises his eyebrows, questioning all those years of you two.

You scoff. “Drop the act, you know what’s between us.”

“Look, these years have been nice,” Bucky gulps. “But we both knew that we were just playing around.”

“Playing around?” You raise your eyebrows, a knot forming in your throat.

“Casual.” He shrugs.

“Was it casual when you chased after me in Bangladesh?” You challenge. “Was it casual when you asked me to stay because you wanted to feel me at night? Was it casual when you said you loved me?”

Bucky finally looks at you. “You have to understand, congress means I can make an impact-“

You finish off your drink. “Listen to me, James Buchanan Barnes, this is the last time I let you speak to me. From now on, we’re strangers—better yet, you’re dead to me.”

“C’mon, it doesn’t have to be like this,” he tries to hold your hand but you escape his soft grip.

“Good luck, Congressman Barnes,” your eyes get glassy. “I hope you get everything you want.”

You never look back, not wanting to let him see how much he hurt you.

Author's Note: hihiiii please remember I posted the first chapter of my book All For The Crown, it's on my page. I'd love it if you guys could take a read and leave me a comment! Thanks as always for all the love! My asks are always open!

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theemporium · 2 days ago

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nicojack valentines blurb? 🫶🫶

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

“This is evil.”

You snorted a little, unable to help yourself even with the sight of your boyfriend pouting on your phone screen.

“No, like genuinely evil. It’s Valentine’s Day and I have two really hot partners that are being really hot hundreds of miles away from me. This is a crime.”

Nico couldn’t wipe the fond expression off his face as he tilted his head into camera view. “We are proud of you though,” he said with a genuine smile. “You’re playing so well, baby.”

Jack narrowed his eyes at the way Nico was tucked up behind you on the sunlounger. “Do not try to sweet talk me, Hischier. You’re both half naked and sunbathing all day. I’m freezing my balls off over here.”

Your expression fell. “I knew you wanted us to come to Montreal. We should have never—“

Jack’s pout instantly melted away to a softer expression. “No, baby, no. I meant it when I said I wanted you both to go somewhere for bye week. I’m just being dramatic. I promise I’m happy the two of you are having fun.”

“I still feel bad,” you murmured, lips pressing together as you examined Jack’s expression like you were looking for a sign on whether he was lying or not.

“Well don’t,” Jack replied, all bratty and huffy which made Nico beam a little. “Because you both are going to make it up to me when we are back home.”

You smiled at his words. “Oh yeah?”

“I expect to be spoiled rotten,” Jack said, his own grin starting to grow on his face. “I’m gonna be bringing back gold for you both. You need to match that.”

Nico hooked his chin over your shoulder, eyes crinkling as he smiled at the younger boy. “It’s gonna be all about you for days, baby.”

“And until then, I expect exclusive content. I have not received nearly enough photos from you both. And the ones you have sent, you’ve been far too clothed.”

You snorted. “Well I’ve been trying to get him to stop wearing shirts when he isn’t even buttoning them but he’s being difficult.”

“I’m trying to be respectful to the other people here,” Nico said, rolling his eyes but he didn’t look that put off by the suggestion.

“Who cares about them? Your boyfriend is deprived over here.”

“Deprived and freezing his balls off,” you added with a grin.

“Fine, fine, whatever keeps you and your balls happy,” Nico replied, laughing at the way Jack’s face brightened.

“Happy Valentine’s to me!”

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tulip-room · 3 days ago

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photograph - s.rintarou || wc: 410 || genre: fluff || masterlist || tags: suna rintarou is whipped, polaroids in phone cases, the miyas being trouble makers

syn. the miyas find out suna has a gf and then he goes to the lake with her

as most people know suna rintaro is never far from his phone. what most might not know about it the camera and film that are hidden on the top shelf of his closet just behind a popcorn bucket he got last year with the miyas. if they were to open his wallet or to take off his phonecase they would find photos of his girlfriend, well if they put the pieces together. the relationship isn’t hidden by an means…his friends are just kind of stupid. “hey, rin? i found a really pretty lake i want to take photos at.” there, the voice of his girlfriend.

“yeah, sure.” his hands are in his pockets and his keys are jingling in his pocket. “we can go after school if you want.”

“thanks rin,” she leaves quickly after that. Always busy and on the run to do whatever it is a teacher has asked her to do. he can feel eyes on him and he already knows what’s going to happen, he sighs and turns around to face just who he didn’t want to see.

“rin huh? is that your girlfriend?” the blonde one asks with a smirk on his face, like he’s a cat who’s backed suna into a corner.

“yeah,” he says without missing a beat. this causes the twins to pause in their own tirade and look at each other while he leads the way to class.

“you can’t just! hey! get back here!” they chase after him although he doesn’t answer any of their questions. he fends off the miyas as much as he can and luckily he’s saved by the bell.

with a sigh he leaves the class, finally free from the pestering and waits by the gate to walk her home. “you’re never here this early. were you waiting long?”

“no, let’s go to that lake. i bet we’ll get the best photos.” so while not many people knew what was behind suna’s phone case or just how many photos were in his wallet, they did know that he loved someone. it was clear in his voice and eyes, in the way he talked about her. the polaroids were just a nice touch. especially the one hanging over his bed from their first date. his arm wrapped around her shoulder and his lips pressed to her cheek. it’s clear she’s trying to push him off although it’s a weak attempt, there’s a wide smile on her face.

ness my darling :(( i love you so much, im so glad i talked to you in your inbox that one day and became friends with you. i can’t imagine what it would be like without you, i care about you sm and hope you’re taking care of yourself my love <3 @causenessus

find my other valentine’s here

taglist (gen fil out this form to be added) @hiraethwa @hatsukeii @cherrysurf @cheriisae @darthferbert @localgaytrainwreck @lale-txt @szyvrue @wyrcan

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu fic #suna fic #suna x you #suna x y/n #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #suna fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff

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lostbookmark · 3 days ago

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MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Finding Masterlist here

Summary: After a failed engagement, you move back home and reconnect with your friends. Maybe, just maybe you can find love with someone you never expected.

Pairing: Yoongi x F. Reader

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Swearing, Cheating (Not Yoongi), Fighting, Protected/Unprotected Sex, Toxic Past Relationship,

Genre: Enemies(?) to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers, Small Town romance. Hurt-Comfort, Slight Angst, Romance

Jin slides a dish of vanilla ice cream to you. You smile when you see he remembers the extra sprinkles on top. Yoongi has taken a play out of your book and has been actively avoiding you since your conversation at his house two weeks ago. Every day, you watched out your window from your living room, hoping that he would come over when he returned home from work. He never did. Why was he so upset? Why was he so offended that you didn't want to sell the recipes to the farm? It's not like you were hurting the farm financially. They were doing perfectly well before you came along. They didn't need your bread or jam to be successful. It really shouldn't have mattered that you said no. You regret even agreeing to bake for them in the first place.

“Was I stupid for not selling the recipes?” You ask Jin, who is leaning on the counter in front of you with his own dish of ice cream.

“No, they mean something to you, and you shouldn't feel bad, ” he assures you. “Anyone of us could have talked to you about it. We are all at fault for this whole mess. I don't know why he is taking it so hard.”

“I feel like I've fucked everything up,” you say shoving the sweet cold ice cream in your mouth. As you chew on the colorful sprinkles the bell above the door jingles catching your attention. Hobi walks into the cafe and sits on the stool next to you as he steals a spoonful of your dessert. Your friendship with him went back to normal in a blink of an eye. It wasn't long after you both apologized that Jin and Namjoon sent you their own apologies. They didn't try to come up with excuses for Yoongi or try to make you feel bad. They were simple heartfelt apologies that you accepted right away. “Jimin and Tae even texted me asking why I was making a big deal out of it. They made a whole group chat with the three of us so they could gang up on me together.”

“Really?” Hobi asked, surprised, and you nodded.

“I'll have a talk with them later,” Jin comments, shaking his head.

“I…I just feel like I was back on track with my life, settling in nicely, and now everyone hates me,” you cry. Tears fall down your face that you quickly wipe away with your sleeve. “With the way everything has been going, I wouldn't be surprised if Kook doesn't evict me.”

“He would never do that to you. No one hates you,” Jin said, patting your head as if you're a child.

“It's all going to blow over,” Hobi said, hugging you.

“It's too late. Yoongi is clearly talking shit about me, and now everyone is going to choose sides. Jimin warned me not to let this get messy and look at us. I was so stupid to get involved with him,” you say, shaking your head disagreeing with them. “I've talked to my one and only friend from my old school district. They have a third grade teacher leaving next year. I think I'm going to take the position.”

“No, you're not,” Joon said, coming into the cafe with that damn bell jingling behind him. “We are not going to let you run away. I'll reject your resignation, and I won't give you any recommendations.”

“You would really do that to me?” You ask as he sits on your free side.

“Absolutely,” Namjoon said. “You belong here with us….you're family. Yoongi is stubborn, and so are you. Let things settle down, talk it out, and we will all move on.”

“What if we can't agree on things?” You ask, stirring the ice cream around in your bowl. “He doesn't seem to be in a rush to talk to me. He's had two weeks to talk to me. It's not like he doesn't know where I live. What if there is no fixing this?”

“What if?” Jin asks as he stares off into space as if he’s deep in thought. “What if…”

“What if what?” Hobi asks, smacking the counter, knocking Jin out of his daze.

“What if you sell the recipes to Tannie Farms, but make everything yourself?” Jin asks, looking at you curiously before breaking out in a wide smile.

“I'm not following,” you say, and your other two friends seem just as confused. The three of you in front of the counter look at each other as if Jin has gone insane. “His whole point was that I couldn't make everything myself. I can't supply you with the amount you would need.”

“I don't want to run the cafe anymore. I want to make the food I want to make,” he explains, turning serious. “Think about it, Y/N. A restaurant and bakery. Yours and mine….mine and yours. Ours. People from all over would flock to us.”

“That's….not a bad idea,” Joon said, looking at you with a surprised look on his face. Now, you are looking at him like he is the crazy one. “You would have multiple ovens big enough to make the quantities we need for deliveries, and the recipes would be safe with you. You wouldn't be selling them to strangers.”

“Okay, what about my job? Do I just give up on teaching and throw away my degree that I worked hard for? I am still paying off my student loan. I don't have the money to help you start a restaurant and bakery,” you tell them, pushing your dish of melting ice cream away. “I don't even know if I can make anything else. We can't run a bakery on one cake, bread, and a couple of jams.”

“Yoongi says he's willing to talk about it,” Hobi says, holding up his phone. You glare at him, that traitor. You knew he loved Yoongi more. “You wouldn't have to put up any money because Tannie Farms would own it. Financially, you wouldn't be on the hook for anything.”

“So, I would work for Yoongi,” you say, sounding very unamused as you take in their faces, looking excited at the possible new venture. Shaking your head, you wave your hands in front of you, showing that you were not interested. “Yeah, no thanks.”

“Please, please. Don't crush my dreams,” Jin begs, hands pressed together underneath his chin. “We could be successful. You would work for all of us, not just Yoongi. I don't want to work for my parents forever.”

“You'll have plenty of time to find more recipes and experiment,” Hobi assures you. “The whole process will take time. Months, if not years. You can do it.”

“You wouldn't even have to talk to Yoongi. Jin will handle everything, and all of us are available if you need anything. I think that you definitely can do it,” Joon says, agreeing with Hobi.

Can you? Can you do it? In theory, yes, you probably could. Your grandmother has so many different recipes that you haven't even explored yet. It's the whole working for your friends and Yoongi that is causing you to question this new business opportunity. Could you handle working for Yoongi after everything happened? You're not sure if you can or even want to. To actually work for them puts your entire livelihood at risk. If you get involved, fully involved, there is no way you could walk away at the drop of a hat if things get rough. It was a major commitment.

“Please?” Jin said, giving you puppy dog eyes. “Please, I'll love you forever. I wouldn't even dream of doing this with anyone else. We would work so well together.”

“Okay,” you give in and smack the counter with your hands, causing them to smile at you. “I guess I will be willing to listen to a full-on business plan when you have one. A complete business plan and not just an idea. However, that's all for right now ….I'll listen and consider.”

“Great! We are going to be great together,” Jin exclaims. “I need to get a menu around. Jolly Jin’s Cafe and Bakery. I can see the sign now.”

You sigh as you watch him run back into the kitchen. You think you're getting a headache.

Pulling back into your driveway, you notice Yoongi's house is dark like it has been recently. You barely even see the lights on for an extended period of time in his home at night anymore. You wonder if he kept the same routine he had when you would stay over. Dinner in the kitchen preceded by sitting in the living room curled up on the couch, reading a book. You would have been tucked into his side watching tv or scrolling through your phone as his eyes flew over the pages of his book. Sometimes, the nights would end with him pinning your against the couch cushions or scurrying upstairs quickly and into the bed. Now, those nights are over and gone with one stupid fight.

Sniffling, you blink away the unshed tears. It was then that you noticed the car parked along the side of your driveway. Looking over to your house, you stare at Changkyun from your driver's seat as you throw your car into park as he stands on your porch waiting for you. There was no reason for him to be here. He made it very loud and clear that the two of you were over. Getting out of your car, you stand rooted in your spot just looking at him. You are not willing to walk up to him. He seemed to take the hint and walked off your porch in your direction. Closing your door, you cross your arms and wait with baited breath as he nears.

“You look good,” he says, once reaching you.

He still looked good, too. Handsome as ever with that damn sharp jawline that you had fallen for in the beginning. It pissed you off. You want him to look guilty. You want him to look sad and tired. You want him to apologize for all the shit he put you through. For making you feel like you had to push your friends away. For making you feel like you were not good enough for him. However, he doesn't. He looks like he doesn't have a care in the world.

“How did you find me?” You ask, taking a step back away from him. A part of you wonders if you can jump back in your car and drive away quickly.

“I went to your parents' house, and your mom told me where you were living. I really need to talk to you,” he says.

“I think you said plenty when you said, and I quote ‘I don't love you anymore’,” you tell him. “I don't think that there is anything left to say. You wasted your time coming here.”

You push past him, but he reaches out and grabs your arm, stopping you from leaving. You pull out of his grasp and glare at him. You don't want him to touch you. You don't even want to look at him. Crossing your arms, you raise an eyebrow at him.

“I’m really trying to be civil about this, Y/N,” he said. “I just want my engagement ring back.”

“Why now?” You ask with a laugh. “What, are you getting married sometime soon?” He looks away, not able to look you in the eye. Your jaw drops in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? I've only been gone for a few months and you're engaged. Who?”

“It doesn't matter who. Just give me the ring, and I'll be gone out of your life forever,” he says harshly.

“Tell me who,” you demand. You notice Yoongi pull into his driveway with perfect timing. Great, just great. This day just couldn't get any better. “You owe me that much.”

“Hanna,” he said quietly, looking down at his shoes as you hear Yoongi's car door open and close in the background.

Hanna, the one who you caught him in bed with. The one who you thought was one of your friends. You see Yoongi linger by his kitchen door in your peripheral vision after he slowly made his way up the steps to his house. You turn your head to look at him. Unfortunately, it triggered Changkyun to do the same. Suddenly, his whole demeanor changed.

“Baby, I wish I could change things,” he said in a sickeningly sweet, smooth voice. “I know we were so good together at one point, but that ended. I’ve moved on, and you need to accept that. It's time for you to move on as well.”

“Don't call me that. You need to leave. I'm not giving you anything,” you hiss at him and turn to leave.

“That ring is mine,” he growled at you, grabbing onto you again and pulling you to him. You stumble over your feet as he pulls. “Just give it to me.”

Before you can even comprehend what was happening, Yoongi was in between the two of you. He gives Changkyun a forceful shove, making him stumble backward away from you. Yoongi reaches behind his back and pulls you behind him more, shielding your body. Protecting you. Keeping you safe.

“Just go,” Yoongi growls at him, and Changkyun just laughs at him. “It's clear she doesn't want you here. Get in your car and get the fuck out of here!”

“You think I'm afraid of you?” he asks, looking at him with a distasteful look before looking over Yoongi's shoulder at you. Changkyun laughs at the two of you, shaking his head in amusement. “Min Yoongi? Really, that’s the best you can do? Fuck, are you that desprate?”

“Well he's a million times better than a selfish jackass I know. I don't have the ring anymore, so just leave,” you yell at him from behind Yoongi.

“Where is it?” he snaps at you.

“Watch how you fucking talk to her,” Yoongi snaps back at him, still holding you behind him.

“I pawned it,” you laugh from behind the blonde man, making Changkyun narrow his eyes at you. “It bought me a lovely tv hanging on my wall right now. It's much more pleasant to look at than that ugly ass ring.”

You watch as Changkyun clenches his jaw and stomps away back to his fancy SUV. He stops halfway to his destination before turning back to look at both you and Yoongi. Changing his mind, he walks back toward you. Yoongi reaches back again, making sure that you're still tucked away safely behind him.

“You know,” he says, approaching you. “I never wanted to marry you. I only asked becasue you wouldn’t fucking stop nagging me about it. You were never good enough to be my wife, you stupid…”

That was enough for Yoongi as something inside him snapped. You watch in horror as he throws himself at Changkyun, taking them both onto the hard ground below their feet. It probably would have been comical watching two grown men roll around on the ground had they been strangers, but they weren't, and they were both pissed. This wasn't funny at all. You watch on, with your hands in front of your mouth in shock as Yoongi, who comes out on top lands a punch to Changkyuns stomach from above making him double over and turn slightly away from him. Changkyun, although laid out underneath the pissed off blonde, he wasn't deterred for too long. Using all his power, he spun his torso around quickly, elbowing Yoongi in the face and successfully knocking Yoongi off of him.

“STOP IT!” You yell out into the evening air as Yoongi lands on the ground next to your ex-boyfriend. They didn't listen to you. Changkyun stands, quickly grabbing Yoongi by the back of his jacket, bringing up on his own feet and bending him down low enough to knee him in the side, making him drop again. Yoongi's knees hit the ground hard before catching himself with his hands so he didn’t fall flat on his face. “CHANGKYUN STOP IT! STOP IT! LEAVE HIM ALONE!” You scream at him as he goes to grab Yoongi again.

You push forward, latching onto Changkyun’s arm, trying to shake him off Yoongi. Unfortunately, he wasn't discouraged and managed to get Yoongi back up. Grabbing his wrist, you pull as hard as you could, but he was much stronger than you. Instead, you sink your nails into his skin, dragging them across his flesh, leaving angry red lines in their wake. Changkyun growls. With his free hand, he pushes you away, causing you to stumble back and fall on your ass.

“Keep your hands off her,” Yoongi barks sharply.

Gaining some strength, Yoongi sweeps Changkyun's leg, causing them both to fall once more upon the ground. They roll around a couple of times, trying to each gain the upper hand. You scooch back on your butt trying to stay out of the way.

“She deserved it,” Changkyun growls, pinning Yoongi underneath him. They are both panting, but Changkyun smirks in victory as he looks down at Yoongi. “You think you're so tough. Fucking Min Yoongi, you ain't shit!”

You're too focused on watching your ex pull his arm back for a punch, you hardly register the footsteps quickly running up the driveway until an extra body jumps on Changkyun’s back pulling him off of Yoongi. Jungkook wraps his arms fully around him, dragging him back and away from the hurt man on the ground. Changkyun struggles with your friend, trying to get out of his hold. Tae jumps in quickly, getting in front of them just in case he breaks away and helps Jungkook push Changkyun back until they get him to his car.

“Yoongi,” you cry out, throwing yourself next to him as he struggles to get himself onto his knees.

You grab on to him gently and bring him close to you. He rests his head on your chest as he tries to catch his breath after getting the wind knocked out of him. You stroke his hair with your hand, hoping desperately that he was okay. You see him close his eyes, taking in your touch. You wish you knew what else to do. You wish you could take everything back. You wish for a lot of things.

“You're both pathetic and deserve each other,” Changkyun yells out before finally getting into his vehicle, slamming his door shut in anger.

“Go, before we call the police,” Kook said, pointing to the end of the driveway.

Changkyun backs out of your driveway and squeals his tires before racing away, leaving a cloud of dust and dirt behind in the air. You watch him drive away until his tail lights disappear in the rapidly darkening horizon. Tae comes over and helps Yoongi stand on his own feet. You slowly get off the ground and stand beside them, waiting for someone to say something. Carefully, you place your hand on Yoongi's shoulder, but he instantly shrugs it off. That hurt. You can feel your heart drop down to your stomach. It's really over.

Yoongi and Taehyung take off, walking to his place while holding his side and slightly hunched over. Jungkook approaches you, and the two of you stare at each other. He looks sad. It's been weeks since you last talked to him. He's probably been actively avoiding this whole mess. You know he would never want to choose between you and Yoongi like Jimin and Tae apparently did.

“I should go with them,” he says, jerking his thumbs to the house next door. He's choosing Yoongi, and your heart breaks a little. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer with a nod. You don't blame him for wanting to leave. They were his brothers. You, you were the bitch he was renting his house to. The bitch who they can't make money off of. “Yeah.”

You turn and go to your house before he can even walk away or say anything more. Unlocking the door, you enter your house and slam the door shut, making the blinds on the kitchen windows shake and rattle. It wasn't going to work. The business plan wouldn't work. Your friendships weren't going to work. This small ass town wasn't going to work. You grab your phone from your bag. Pulling up Joons contact, you open a new message.

I’m taking the third grade job. I'm sorry I can't do this.

You can't. You won't.

Tagged Readers:

@mar-lo-pap , @bontensbabygirl , @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs , @redragdoll, @svnbangtansworld , @wobblewobble822 , @busanbby-jjk , @pitchblack0309 , @bluesiebirdie

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lily-jaxk · 1 day ago

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MC Twin AU - CALEB'S Spitfire [2]

Caleb was weird.

Not weird as in 'I wanna lock you away from the world.' you actually found that very normal and very, very hot. What the said about you meant nothing, there was a reason you picked him out of all the other options.

No, Caleb was acting weird because he was focusing on you. He had apparently asked for your number from MC, which she had gladly given him, and you had woken up to the sight of an unknown number sending you a good morning text.

"Rise and shine spitfire! You gotta get to work soon 🫵"

You had blinked, then pinched your cheek just to make sure you weren't hallucinating. Seeing that it hurt a lot, you were clearly awake.

"Um, Caleb?"

"😉 One and only"

"Well technically there are many other Caleb's in the world ya know"

" :( well the only Caleb who's food you enjoy a lot"

". . . . damm"

"lol why did you do the ...?"

"dramatic effect. anywho how did you get my number?"

"MC gave me. Now! I'll talk to you later 🫵Get ready for work!"

Caleb was weird because on a sunny Friday afternoon, right after your dentist appointment, you found him leaning against your car scrolling on his phone. You had paused, stared at him, then let out a long sigh. It was best to not dwell on how he knew where you were. Normally you would have said MC told him, but you hadn't told her that your appointment was today.

So yeah. Caleb was weird.

As you approached him, he finally looked up and gave you a wide smile that made your heart flutter. "Hey there spitfire!" He greeted, placing his phone in his pocket and straightening up.

You raise a brow and cross your arms over your chest. "Are you here to steal my car?"

"Precisely." He bobbed your nose making you let out a squawk of bafflement. "MC needs to be picked up and I unfortunately have my car in the shop, soo I was wondering if I could use yours?"

You tap your foot on the pavement. "And how did you know where I was?"

Caleb blinks and brings out his phone, turning it around to show you the screen. "You posted it on your Moments."

. . . . Ah. You did. A long sigh leaves your lips and you turn to walk to the driver's seat. "Get in. And in return, you're getting me mochi."

"Roger that!"

Caleb was weird, because he invited you out once to play Kitty Cards together. No MC, no other friends, just you and him.

You narrow your eyes at him over the rim of your cards, and he smiles innocently at you. "You knowww, I can give you some of my cards-"

"I'll bite you!"

"Ohhh kink-"

"Caleb!"

He laughs, purple eyes sparkling with mirth, and your heart flutters, making you duck your head to hide your blush. No, no you couldn't feel anything for him. This was wrong!

You weren't MC. You weren't the girl that helped him in the labs, and you weren't the girl he dedicated his entire existence for.

You were simply. . . . You.

Caleb was weird, because even when you started to try and distance yourself from him, he kept bothering you. Even when you ignored his calls, ran away with an excuse whenever he was with MC, pretended he didn't exist and hid when you saw him in the wild, he still didn't let you go.

Everywhere you went, he knew.

At MC? He knew.

At work? He knew.

Watching movies at home? He sent you reminders to go to bed early.

At work? Somehow food delivery is being sent to your office.

Caleb was weird.

"I'm not her you know." You tell him after months of ignoring him, months of him chasing you, lurking behind you like a shadow. "We might look identical, but I'm not, and will never be her."

Why couldn't he get it through his thick skull! You weren't MC, you were You!

Caleb was weird, because he simply smiled and dragged you into a hug, placing his chin on the top of your head. "Of course you're not MC." He said with ease. "You're my little spitfire, and I couldn't have it any other way."

Your face grew beet red, and your heart pounded loudly in your ears. Caleb was so fucking weird, because he called you his.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

#love and deepspace #lads #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x you #lnds caleb #caleb lnds #lnds caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #twin au #lnds #caleb lads

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seitmai · 3 days ago

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“That far along, huh? Are we going to have to bribe someone to lie about the date on the marriage certificate?”

“Why can’t I take her on a proper date?” He looks the man up and down. The scrawny little kid has filled out. But the reputation of a son raised by a single mom still lingered. A son who had to get a job far too young to make sure that he and his mother could survive. A son that was accepted into college, and now about to graduate Harvard law. And still he isn’t good enough for you. He is no good. And never would be.

So sad and unfair🥺

“I want to marry your daughter.” “Over my dead fucking body,” Andy’s cheerful face turns sour, and he glares at your father. “You know nothing about my daughter.” “I know that she prefers the moon over the sun. I know that her favorite flower is a lily, but your wife thinks her room looks better with roses and daisies. I know that she wants a big family, and wants to live just out of the city. I know she wants a dog, a golden retriever, and name her Bagel,” your dad stumbles back on that. You said you never would tell anyone that unless you knew they loved you. “I know she loves baking, and she loves to read. I know that you taught her to type.”

Period👏🏻

“You have no idea,” he gets the most devious plan. It’s not as evil as it may sound. Andy plans on marrying you anyways. Currently he doesn’t have your father’s blessing, and this way wouldn’t exactly be a blessing. But at least he couldn’t say no. You are just like every other girl, and would only get the proper talk until you were engaged. You didn’t fully understand how babies are made, or the ways that Andy could love you, and evour you.

Ohhh i see where this is going 👀

🥰🥰🥰

You would no longer be a lady, and sex didn’t automatically mean pregnancy, but he wasn’t going to stop until you became pregnant.

A man with a plan 🫡

“Well,” he says softly, pulling you into his body. His meaty hands run up your sides before they’re high enough for his thumbs to caress over your breasts, and you sigh leaning into him. You were in private, and there’s nothing you wouldn’t let Andy do. Or touch.

🤭🤭🤭

Wedding be damned. You can’t stop this now. You want to feel him inside of you. “Andy, I want you in there,” he glances up at you with an almost evil smirk. “Will you show me what that means?” He will marry you. He will make an honest woman out of you. Your father drove him to do things this way.

I mean fair, and they are consenting 🤷🏻‍♀️

“I want a baby with you,” fuck yes. Yes. Just what he was wanting to hear. “I want to marry you, and live here with you, and have you inside me every single night. I want to take care of our sweet babies, and —“ he pulls himself out of you again, causing you to pout, but then he pushes back in with a jolt.

Just what he needed to hear

“You were made for me, Sugar. Nobody can ever take this away from us. I won’t stop fucking you until I plant a baby in your belly.” You’re too far gone to truly understand the implications in that statement. You just nod your sweet little head, opening your legs wider. Andy leans back, pinning both legs to the bed as he watches himself impale you. Your tight little cunt clings to his cock. Even your body didn’t want him to leave you. It was begging for him to stay buried deep inside you.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

“You were supposed to marry the astronaut.” “Guess he wouldn’t want to marry some whore, huh, Nana?” You let your hand drift down your stomach, rubbing over the barely there bump. “Andy did ask daddy for his permission to marry me. He said no, but all I’ve ever wanted was to be Mrs. Barber.”

The astronaut comment? Iconic 😅👏🏻

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I wanted this. I begged for him to give us a baby. And now he’s giving me his last name. We have a home, and he has a job, and will move up at the firm. Let me have this happiness. He kept his promise. So let me keep mine.”

The circumstances might be a little fucked up, but it's actually really sweet, let them be in love and married!

Daddy's Pride and Joy

Summary: Andy wanted you. He wanted things right. But your dad refused. What other choice did he have?

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, narrow views of sex due to the time period, slut shaming, unprotected sex, breeding kink, PIV sex, first time, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.9K

Andy Barber Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Your mom fiddles around with a bouquet of roses and daisies, refusing to meet your eyes. You’ve heard her talk about how you made a mistake for weeks now. How you put yourself in this position. That you should consider yourself lucky that things are going the way they are. And still you feel her judgemental gaze as she peeks at you over the bouquet.

“Marge?” your grandmother questions your mother. Picking up your dress, she then turns to look at you. “What did you do, you stupid girl?” You hold your head high as your sister starts to zip the dress up. Grunting when she reaches a snag. Well…it is now too tight.

“How far along are you?” You play dumb. The dress wasn’t supposed to be a give away. Your grandmother walks behind you to help your sister. “You could have gone with a bigger dress.”

“It fit last week,” your sister is much too young, and does not understand the adult conversation happening between you and the women who are ashamed of you.

“That far along, huh? Are we going to have to bribe someone to lie about the date on the marriage certificate?”

“No,” Andy told you everything would be okay. And it would be. Everything would be just fine.

“Marge?” Your dad peeks out the front window, watching as the little boy from down the street pushes you in the swing. “Marge!”

“Yes, dear,” your mother responds. She wipes her hands on her apron as she walks into the living room.

“Who is that boy?” He points to the little boy with the bright blue eyes that had captured your heart the moment he and his mother moved down the street. “Hmm?”

“The kid from the old house up the street,” it isn’t like your father didn’t know this already. He asked about him every time you played with him. The problem was your father didn’t like him. Didn’t think the son of a single mother was good enough for his precious angel.

“The one whose father is in jail?”

“That would be the one. She fancies him.”

“I think he just sees an access to money,” your mother rolls his eyes, as she starts to step back into the kitchen to prepare lunch. “You laugh at me, but kids younger and younger are being taught by their parents the best way to money is finding some stupid girl that has a rich family to marry. He sees an in. A respectable man that owns a magazine, like myself. The heir…”

“We’re not royalty. His mother says he wants to be a lawyer.”

“Bah. That kid is a loser.”

“Sir,” your father attempts to close the door in Andy’s face, but the younger man places a foot there first. “I would like to take your daughter out on a date.”

“No,” he deadpans. “Is that all?”

“What do you mean by proper?”

“Oh, umm…I didn’t mean anything by it,” he meant he didn’t want to wait below your window as you snuck out with him. In order to not be spotted, he’d just take you on long walks at night, where eventually the two of you would lay looking at the stars. It was kind of infuriating to have you all alone. But you are a respectable woman. And clothes always stayed on.

“You know, Dwayne down the street mentioned something about you and her. Now, I thought it was a bit crazy to suggest that my daughter was riding in a car with the likes of you after midnight,” Andy stands up straighter. Nothing had ever crossed a line. But he has every intention of marrying you, and would prefer it be done the right way. “I want you to stay away.”

“I want to marry your daughter.”

“Over my dead fucking body,” Andy’s cheerful face turns sour, and he glares at your father. “You know nothing about my daughter.”

“I know that she prefers the moon over the sun. I know that her favorite flower is a lily, but your wife thinks her room looks better with roses and daisies. I know that she wants a big family, and wants to live just out of the city. I know she wants a dog, a golden retriever, and name her Bagel,” your dad stumbles back on that. You said you never would tell anyone that unless you knew they loved you. “I know she loves baking, and she loves to read. I know that you taught her to type.”

“You’re not marrying my daughter. Do you know why?” Andy shakes his head. He has done everything a man should do. He even has a job lined up. He has a home he is going to buy, just for the two of you, and eventually your children, and Bagel. He has a car. He will provide for you. “You’re a piece of shit, born from a piece of shit. Do you not think I know about your bastard father rotting in prison? Do you not think I don’t know about how your mom was making some extra money? You’ll never be good enough for my daughter. Never.”

—

You lean outside of your window, smiling when you see Andy on the lawn. Throwing your legs out of the window, you shimmy towards the tree branch, and make your way towards the most perfect man you have ever met. Getting down to his arms, where he gives you a bruising kiss. His hand is holding onto you a bit too high on your rib cage, and his thumb grazes over your breast before you jump away from him. He shouldn’t touch you there while at your parents’ home.

“Where are we going tonight?” your voice is so soft as he grips your hand, and leads you down the road and to his parked car. You are so proud of Andy and all that he has earned.

“Did you talk to my dad?” Andy opens the door of the car for you, and closes it before he crosses over to the other side. “Andy, did you talk to him?” He has to let you date Andy now. He is a lawyer. And you weren’t some shy little girl anymore. You wanted to become his wife, and have cute babies with him. And the sooner that this was public, the sooner you can have that, “Andy?”

“He said no,” your arms cross over your chest as you look out the window of the car. “It’s not stopping me.”

“Why is he like this?” it upsets you that your father can’t see the Andy that you see. He is perfect. And he will give you a perfect life.

“Because you’re his oldest daughter. His pride and joy, and he just doesn’t want you to be married off to some boy.”

“Except you’re not some boy,” you give him a smile, scooting over on the seat towards him. Your dainty hand rubs up and down his chest as you snuggle in, “You’re all man.”

They’d tell you how a woman has wifely duties. But sex with you isn’t a duty. Sex with you almost seems like a life force for him. It is proper to wait for marriage, but this marriage doesn’t seem like it’s going to be approved by your father. And he’d hate to see you leave Andy behind because you needed that.

But…if you were to accidentally fall pregnant how could he say no? You would need to have a man to marry you. What man would marry a sullied woman? Leaving him with no choice but to approve the marriage. Demand it.

It’s not evil. It’s just changing up the way he would like things to go. He doesn’t want you to be looked down upon in the community. He wants you. He doesn’t want to wait. He wants his future wife properly. He’d taken way too many cold showers after leaving you. Relieved himself way too much.

His car turns in a different direction. The house was supposed to be a surprise. But he was also supposed to be given your dad’s blessing. It’s empty, and a bit bleak right now. But if he’s going to have your properly, he wants it to be in your future home with him. You would no longer be a lady, and sex didn’t automatically mean pregnancy, but he wasn’t going to stop until you became pregnant.

Andy has always played the long game with you. He knew the moment he saw this sweet little girl rocking in her saddle shoes as you stood there holding out a coloring book and crayons for him, and told him that you have a swing that he was in love. He fell instantly and even told his mom that he was going to marry you. And he will. Even if you have to get pregnant out of wedlock for it to happen.

“Andy, where are we going? We’ve never been here before?” You ask after a while of silence. You are perfectly content rubbing on your boyfriend as he drives. He gets all fidgety and squirrelly when you do. It makes you feel better knowing his heart is racing just like yours always does around him.

“I bought us something.”

“Oh?” You look up at him with doe eyes, and kiss him on his neck. Giggling when he makes that sound. Kissing on his neck always makes him squirm. You love watching him adjust how he’s sitting and even how he pulls you closer to him. Letting his hands roam where they want to roam. You don't mind as long as you are alone.

“It might not be much. But this is just a starter,” he says, slowing down as he turns onto a road. You squeal as you look forward. Your hand lays on his upper thigh, and he clears his throat. Andy is such a funny man when you touch him in certain areas.

“Andy, it’s perfect!” It truly is. The cutest little white house with a white picket fence. A perfect starter home. “Can we go look?”

“That’s why we’re here,” you don’t even wait for him to open the door before you spring to the house. Having to wait a bit too long for him to come to your side and unlock the door before you're running through the empty house.

Home.

Yours and Andy’s home.

The kitchen is bigger than your mom’s, and a few modern appliances. The living room is huge, but maybe that’s because there was no furniture. Running down the hall you see the perfect room for a nursery. Can already envision the crib.

“Honey,” Andy pulls your hand down the hallway, leading you towards the biggest room in the house. It is mostly empty, sans a bed. “This will be ours.”

“Ours?” You sigh, turning towards him, and run both hands up his chest. “And we’ll get to sleep in the bed together,” your mother hadn’t quite taught you anything concerning marriage. And you’d heard your friends gossip a bit about their husbands, but it just made you queasy. You didn’t want to think about another man. You just want him. You want those conversations with Andy or nobody.

“We can do more than sleep,” he says with a sly quirk of his mouth.

“What else does one do in the bed with their husband?”

Your body heats up with ministrations, and you stare up at him with your eye lids at half mast. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to try with you.”

“And what’s that?”

“I want to make love with you,” your tongue flicks out of your mouth, and you pull your bottom lip in. Biting on your perfect pout as you look up at him. “Do you know what that is?”

You shake your head no as Andy’s hands go to your back, and he grips tight to your zipper as he pulls it down. You gulp, allowing him to undo your dress. It feels right. And you love Andy, so making love sounds right. “When two people love each other, they give each other their bodies.”

“And then what,” you release a wanton mewl when he fully unzips your dress. Placing his hands back on your shoulders, he pulls the dress down, and you watch with bated breath as it pulls at your feet. Andy’s hungry eyes roam over your body before he reaches back behind you, undoing your bustier, and you’re the one pulling it off.

He stands there, taking your nearly nude body in. “Then what, Andy?”

“I taste you,” you gulp. “You taste me,” you shudder. “I enter inside of you,” you whimper. “I come inside of you.”

“Inside where?” Andy’s finger taps between your legs, and your knees start to buckle. Leaning more into him for support, and you shyly pull at his jacket, and fumble with the buttons on his shirt. “Have you ever came inside someone?”

“No,” it isn’t a lie. He’s had sex, and only because he wanted to be the best for you. But that part of him…it is only for you. “Can — I touch you?” You nod your head enthusiastically, and he leans forward. Both hands cupping your breasts before he sucks one into his mouth.

“Oh, god,” the other breast he squeezes and pulls until he reaches your swollen bud, and gives it a little pinch. You pant as you stare down at him. Sucking on your nipple before he pulls off with a pop, and moves to the other one. “Andy…I can’t breathe.”

“We’re just getting started,” he practically growls. He grabs your hand, and places it on his crotch, while you moan. Slick heat races to your core, and your mind goes all fuzzy. Andy always has this innate ability to make butterflies race to your belly.

Feeling Andy like this doesn’t even feel criminal. He’s showing you exactly why he adjusts his pants, “This is what you do to me.”

“And this,” you take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. You can feel his pulse under your fingers. He’s so hot and heavy under your palms. Yours. This is all yours. “This goes inside me?”

“It does.”

“Show me,” Andy steps away from you before sinking to his knees. He starts to slowly peel away your panties and stockings down your body. Assisting you in kicking off your shoes, and stepping out of your confines while you stand completely bare in front of him.

“Andy,” you coo before he kisses you over your naked mound. “Andy,” you start to melt as he coaxes your legs apart, and he licks through your slit. “Oh dear,” Andy is getting a part of you that no man has. Open and so ready for him. Whatever it means. Is this what people are talking about when they mention the wedding bed?

Lifting you up, he lets your legs wrap around his body, while he moves you to grind over his enlarged bulge. Your eyes blow wide open with curious lust and the simpering sounds of your needy voice make his movements so much quicker. He could just about come looking at you like this alone. Laying you down on the bed, he spreads your legs so wide to stare at your weeping cunt. Perfect. And all his.

“Andy,” you whine, wiggling around. You feel so exposed, and want him so bad. You want him all over you. You want him to feel a part of you that no one has.

“Shh,” he whispers as he starts removing his clothes. You gasp as his cock springs free. Scooting back in the bed, suddenly scared of where he says he’s going to have you. “You can take it. You’ll take it all, and if it doesn’t fit, we’ll make it fit.”

Andy clamors onto the bed, using his wide berth to keep your legs parted as he lines himself up with your center. Pushing just the tip of him in you and quickly pulling back out, and you yip. “Honey, you can take it, huh?”

“Y-y-yeah,” you take a deep swallow as he goes deep, but doesn’t pull out. “Oh, golly,” he slowly sinks his girth deeper. Letting your body adjust to the intrusion inch by inch. “Oh…oh!” Panting when he fully sheaths his steel rod all the way inside of you, and into the depths of your soul.

Both of your bodies hum with the throbbing intensity that is the two of you becoming one. It’s overwhelming and lovely all at the same time. All these years have led you here. Spread wide open for him. Taking him. Loving him.

“There’s a good girl. There is my sweet good girl,” it is overwhelming having Andy inside of you. Stretching you out deliciously. You want him always there. It just feels right. How dare your father try and take this from you. You belong with Andy with him inside of you.

“Andy, I love you.”

“I love you.”

“You like me fucking you?”

“Uh huh,” such terrible language, but right here, right now, it feels wrong not to be saying that. “Fuck me harder. I like that,” he snaps his hips, barreling back into you. Again. Again. And again. And tears spring to your eyes, but he kisses them away. Pistoning into your body with such force you cry out.

The fullness of him. It makes it hard to breathe. Even the sting of the stretch doesn’t hurt all that much.

“Good girl. You sound so pretty crying for me,” you just cling on for dear life as Andy’s movements make the bed slap against the wall. “You were made for me, Sugar. Nobody can ever take this away from us. I won’t stop fucking you until I plant a baby in your belly.”

You’re too far gone to truly understand the implications in that statement. You just nod your sweet little head, opening your legs wider. Andy leans back, pinning both legs to the bed as he watches himself impale you. Your tight little cunt clings to his cock. Even your body didn’t want him to leave you. It was begging for him to stay buried deep inside you.

And he would be. He’ll keep fucking you, and planting his seed until it takes. What is your dad going to say when you’re swelling with Andy’s pride and joy? He wouldn’t want to ruin your good name, therefore the family’s. He’ll be forced to allow you to marry. And he’ll have you exactly how he wants you.

On your back, taking him every night, while every day he gets to worship you. The dream.

“Sugar,” Andy pants, his movements stiffening up. “I’m gonna give us a baby.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Fuck,” he crows, keeping himself lodged deep in your body. “Fuck!” Warmth blooms in your belly, and your mouth goes slack as you stare up at him. “This will be our little secret, okay?”

Until your belly is so round that everyone knows that he’s fucked you good and hard enough to get a baby. Men will stare jealously knowing that Andy has had you with no inhibitions. There will come a day that he will get to tell people that the two of you are trying for a baby. Meaning they’ll know he’s fucking his come inside of you every night.

It will come. But for now, he’s going to keep coming inside of you. Creating a life in secrecy. In hopes that your father will approve this union. He won’t have another choice.

“Beige,” your grandmother huffs as your sister pulls the veil over your head. “You seriously think people won’t notice you’re wearing beige? You spread your legs for the first man that whispered how much he loves you in your ear. You will ruin this family!” your sister looks back and forth between you and your grandmother, but you keep your head held high. Today you become his wife.

“You were supposed to marry the astronaut.”

“Guess he wouldn’t want to marry some whore, huh, Nana?” You let your hand drift down your stomach, rubbing over the barely there bump. “Andy did ask daddy for his permission to marry me. He said no, but all I’ve ever wanted was to be Mrs. Barber.”

“He trapped you,” your mother gasps, holding her hand over her mouth, while the other fans her face. “Sweetheart.”

Let your mom continue to pray that nobody sees the weight you’ve put on. Four months, and six weeks, it is becoming harder to hide. There wouldn’t be a honeymoon. There would only be you going home to your husband. Sleeping in the bed right beside him where you belong. No more sneaking around, and leaving before sunlight. Everyone may know that you didn’t wait, and you don’t even care. Because he still kept his promise.

There would be no more lies. Only the truth, and that’s what has always been known. You love Andy Barber.

Andy Barber loves you.

And Andy is yours.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @musingsfromthemitten

@theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy @distractingbeth

#also funfact my aunt was born like 7 months after my grandparents wedding and for yeara they just told everyone she was a preemie #she was in fact not actually a preemie haha #i think they truly confirmed it at their 50th wedding anniversary celebration hahah

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gothamite-rambler · 3 days ago

Text

Why Poison Ivy likes Dick Grayson out of the other Robins

Robin!Dick (chipper): Hi, Ivy!

Poison Ivy (wary, crossing her arms): Hey, kid. Wow, you really decided that babysitting and being a 'hero' was the best idea.

Ivy shot an annoyed glare at Batman, who remained stoically silent. Robin!Dick gazed at a giant rose flytrap, already inching closer to poke it.

Ivy (warningly): Stand away from the giant rose!

Robin!Dick stepped back, his eyes wide with fascination.

Robin!Dick: Can I—

Batman (pointing firmly to another part of the botanical area): I will take you home.

Robin!Dick pouted, shoulders slumping as he walked away, mumbling.

Ivy (smirking): He’s adorable. If I didn’t hate people, I’d keep him. Okay, let’s start. You want me to stop my mission to protect Mother Earth, and you think that's wrong. Please, continue being wrong.

Ivy gracefully took a seat on her flower chair, crossing her legs with a smug smile.

Batman (sternly): I shouldn’t have to explain how your mission to save the Earth doesn’t benefit people. It’s destructive.

Ivy (raising an eyebrow): Why? Because some people might die? A few dead bodies are worth it to save the planet.

Robin!Dick (mid-stop from touching a different dangerous plant): What?! You’re killing people to do this?

Ivy (matter-of-factly): Yes… A few dead bodies are worth—why does his face look sad?

Robin!Dick (trying not to cry, voice wavering): That’s so mean.

Batman (glaring at Ivy): You’ve upset him. Shame on you.

Ivy (indignant, standing tall): Last I checked, the Earth is dying, and I’m just being honest with the kid! If you actually used critical thinking, you’d realize I’m not destroying the Earth—big corporations are! They’re pumping out microplastics, pouring random crap into lakes—Bliss… JUST BLISS—are destroying the freaking planet! They’re screwing her like she’s a two-dollar hooker! I stopped eating chocolate bars from Bliss's company after the founder said water shouldn’t be given to everybody!

Robin!Dick (astonished, eyes wide): Did he actually say that?

Ivy (explaining passionately): He implied water shouldn’t have free access to the public because Bliss is the biggest proprietor of bottled water. That’s unforgivable! So whatever you’re about to say, Batman, I don’t want to hear it! They’re destroying ecosystems, hunting endangered species, killing crops—

Robin!Dick (interrupting, stepping closer): Hold up, that’s all she’s trying to fix?

Robin!Dick glanced at Batman expectantly, waiting for his response.

Batman (turning to Robin, tone serious): She’s not doing it in a logical way.

Robin!Dick (defiantly): She’s a green woman who can control plants! Does she look like she wants to use our logic? No offense, Ivy.

Ivy (grinning): You’re fine. I love my body.

Robin!Dick (glancing between them, confused): She can talk to plants, too! She must feel pain when they feel pain. Are you just going to ignore that?

Batman (frustrated): I never said I was.

Ivy (smirking): Sure feels like it every time we talk.

Robin!Dick (enthusiastically): Why don’t we help her, Batman? Has she asked for your help?

Batman (sheepish, avoiding eye contact): Um… it’s been brought up in the past.

Robin!Dick (jumping up and down, angry): Then why haven’t you helped her?

Ivy (pleasantly surprised): Yeah, Batman, that’s so mean.

Batman (defending his stance): She's a criminal and will let people die for the cause.

Robin!Dick (shrugging): Well, if it's that Bliss guy, I don’t… I don’t necessarily blame her if he dies.

Ivy (smiling): Huh... thank you.

Robin!Dick (sincere): You’re welcome.

Batman (frustrated): All right, you’re young, so you don’t understand this is a complex situation.

Robin!Dick (bringing up a correct point): Yeah, so is being a vigilante over a cop, but that’s what you do! I’ve seen you beat the ever-loving shit out of a lot of bad guys committing actual crimes.

Batman (scolding): Language.

Robin!Dick: The context needed the word! I love you, Batman, I do, but let’s be real—you steal police information and beat up thugs. You haven’t paid the Commissioner back for the fire hydrant incident. You break a lot of laws! You say you’re doing it to save lives; so is she! Most are plant lives, but I get it. We’d be arrested too, but we’re lucky; she’s not… it’s not right.

Ivy (sincere, smiling warmly): Thanks again, kid.

Robin!Dick (sweetly): You’re welcome again.

Batman (confused at how he's being criticized): What the… what the heck is happening?

Robin!Dick (swaying back and forth): I'm just saying, in any other city, we’d be going to prison. Well, you would be; I’d be tossed into an orphanage, and that… that’s not fun.

Ivy (nodding): A lot of kids in the system have been abused. He’s got a point.

Batman (annoyed): Why are you arguing with me, Robin?

Robin!Dick (leaning in, determined): Because dang it, she might have a point! We can help her to a degree… In fact, isn’t the building we’re in the one being sued for what they did to a lake? All those ducks died.

Ivy (adding): Nothing can grow there for decades.

Robin!Dick: Yeah, the ecosystem is destroyed there.

Ivy (pridefully): That’s why I picked this building to invade first. It’s not being used for anything productive. I’m thinking of making it a plant sanctuary.

Robin!Dick (looking around, nodding enthusiastically): Yeah… yeah… that sounds like a good idea.

Ivy (smirking at Batman): You must’ve gotten this level of kindness and understanding from someone else. I like you. Batman, keep him around; he's adorable and smart.

Robin!Dick (cupping his cheeks, blushing): Aww, thank you.

Batman (raising his voice, annoyed): Stop trying to turn him to the dark side! And why are you ganging up on me?

Robin and Ivy (in unison): Because you know it’s wrong and are being stubborn!

Batman (sighing, rubbing his temples): Okay, she’s not my child, but you are. Don’t yell at me.

Robin!Dick (serious): Hm… okay, I'm sorry, but you told me you became Batman because the system is flawed and sometimes matters need to be taken into your hands? Where the law and our governments can’t fix the issue, it takes a civilian to step in and make things right. How is she different?

Ivy (smirking, folding her arms): Yeah, yeah, how am I different? Is it because I’m green? Racist!

Batman (exasperated): That doesn’t make any sense; you’re white!

Robin!Dick (pointing his index finger for emphasis): She’s green now.

Ivy (leaning forward, playful): Robin, was it? Here, take a rose.

Ivy used her powers to hand the young hero a rose.

Robin (smiling widely and taking the rose): Aww, thank you.

Batman groaned, then picked up Robin like a bag and started walking away. Robin giggled as he was being carried.

Batman (growling): Give me a minute; I have to talk to him in private!

Ivy (calling out, amused): Go easy on him, and let that kid be a free thinker. He's smart; he knows what he’s talking about.

Robin!Dick (waving): Thank you, Ivy.

Ten minutes after the two argued, Batman came to a compromise with his son and Ivy. He understood that Dick would absolutely not mind sabotaging factories or causing a fire with a supervillain to protect the planet. All he needed was a good reason.

Batman (driving them home in the Batmobile, voice calm): Could you not defend the actions of the bad guy in front of me next time?

Robin!Dick (munching on McDonald's fries): Don’t take me to one who has a point, and you can’t be mad at me. I did a good thing.

Batman (with a resigned sigh): I hate that you’re technically right. Give me a fry at least.

Robin!Dick passed his father a French fry while finishing off the ones he already had, an infectious smile plastered across his face.

Inspired by this post

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bqstqnbruin · 3 days ago

Text

Letters Unsent

Listen listen I know this is my second Quinn fic in a row but I was scrolling through Libby yesterday during parent/teacher conferences and I saw a book that was about letters written between twins that never got sent and then I browned out and next thing I knew this fic was written.

Shoutout to @nicohischier for reading thing while I yelled about it in her dms when she was living life

Warnings: SA(?) (kissing without consent and then she knees him in the dick), swearing, drinking, mentions of sex, angst

WC: 4006

____________________

Dear Quinn,

My therapist told me I’m supposed to write letters to the people I wish I had one more conversation with. Apparently it’s supposed to help me get all the feelings that I’ve kept bottled up, out in a way where I don’t have to actually say them. Not only did she tell me I had to, but she told me she would read them. Talk about an unnecessary invasion of privacy. Is that even legal?

But, I’m paying her (or my health insurance is paying her) for a reason, and Kelly seems chill anyway, so I guess that’s fine. I’m writing to you and to my grandmother, the one who passed away when I was little, so don’t feel that special. You’re not even going to read these anyway, so I’m not sure why you would.

Do you remember when we first met? Elias was convinced that the two of us were meant to be, and for some reason, Brock and Ally agreed, too? Ally still brings up that even when we were friends, our entire friend group somehow knew that you and I would end up together. I’m actually surprised it was Elias who said it was us first, and not Ally. It was always supposed to be us.

I just wish we didn’t end that way.

Lov From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

I don’t remember the last time I went out to a bar and got as drunk as I did last night. Ally kept buying drinks (or, conning men into buying us drinks, her favorite pastime). I think the last time I really drank that much might have been the night we first met. Ally told me that I needed to go out for once and forget, since I’ve really just been moping around the apartment (Kelly I know you’re going to read this, calm down I’m writing it for a reason). But what’s the point of going out when there’s nothing to really see?

Going to bars bores me, you know this. Why spend money to get to the bar, then spend money to get into the bar, then spend more money once you’re inside the bar, then spend even more money to get home from the bar, when I can stay at home and drink for a lot less money and with a lot less people around?

Anyway.

I still don’t really understand how we all became friends. At that point, Ally was just my roommate, and it was just the two of us against the world. I think if Brock hadn’t spilled his drink all over me, we probably would have just avoided the three of you. The fact that we even went out in the first place was astonishing. I didn’t even realize what had happened, the fact that I was covered in some sticky, alcoholic liquid, until I heard you scolding him for it. Your voice is what pulled me in to the group, you were what kept me in.

Brock, of course, insisted he make up for it, as he would, while you just stood off to the side and laughed into your drink, the scolding from moments before gone while you watched Brock make a fool of himself (as Ally and I would later learn, was actually just him being him). He brought the five of us so many drinks, he might have spent a year's worth of his salary that night alone.

Ok, not his salary. My salary, maybe.

I don’t know what came over me that night we met, though. You know me well enough to know that I am not the type of person to do something big, or something that might scare me if I can help it.

Asking you to dance was definitely because of the alcohol. Working up the courage to do that when the rest of our friends were standing talking was easy because of the alcohol. There was something about the vibe that night that made me want to do it. Something inside me was telling me I had to, or that I would regret it.

Part of me does regret it, sometimes. But, fuck, I’m glad I did it.

Maybe that’s why they all say that we were meant for each other. Something about you had me doing things I never would have done otherwise. Ally took pictures of us while we were dancing. She said that we should use them for when the two of us inevitably got married. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at someone the way I looked at you.

Maybe it was the alcohol.

Maybe it was because you were looking at me the same way.

LoFrom,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

I hate my job I hate my job I hate my job I hate my job.

Something, something, Kelly would tell me that if this is making me this unhappy, that I should quit, blah, blah, blah.

In this economy, though??? With this job market??? Maybe I go to another country…

I fucking hate that one guy, Jamie. Do you remember him?

I feel like I ask you that a lot, if you remember certain things. I guess I’m just wondering if you think about me and us as much as I think about you. I hate how that sounds/reads/looks, but unfortunately for me, it’s true. I shouldn’t think about you as much as I do, but, here we are. That’s probably why you were the first person I thought of to write to when Kelly told me to start (sorry Grandma).

Anyway, Jamie was that guy we ran into that one night at the bar, before we started dating. Of course you remember him. You probably remember him more than you remember anything about me at this point.

He kept hitting on me, at one point had his hand on my arm and you went fucking crazy.

It was insanely hot.

I’ve told you that before, but I might as well tell you that again.

What was even hotter in the moment was when you came up behind me and wrapped your arms around my waist. I always felt safe in your arms, if I’m being honest. That’s fucking corny of me.

Whatever.

You came up behind me and told him that you were glad he was keeping me company, that I was safe with someone I knew. I’m almost positive I heard you call me ‘your girl,’ but it was so loud in there, who knows. I hope you did.

I’ve never seen someone so pissed off as I had when Jamie stomped away.

I’ve never seen someone look the way you did, almost hungry? Jealous? When Jamie came over to me in the first place. I saw you the entire time, the way you clenched your glass, how you nearly threw it at Elias when you first saw Jamie touch me. I thought you were just trying to be a good friend.

But it was the fact that you didn’t let go of me, you rested your chin on my head, even when Jamie was out of my sight.

I finally was able to turn around and get a look at you at one point after we just stood there for a little bit, the two of us starting to sway to the music. For me, it felt like there was no one else around us. I asked you why you were still holding on to me.

The fact that you just smiled at me, your hands tightening on my waist instead of outright answering me made my heart skip a beat. Every stupid, gooey, wonderful feeling you could think of when you know that you were in love with the person in front of you ran through me.

My mind went blank when you finally kissed me. When I finally could form a coherent thought, the only thing I could think of was how that felt right.

You felt right.

I started this letter to talk about my job, but honestly, Jamie isn’t even worth it. He never really was.

LFrom,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

The fact that we didn’t outright start dating after that night you kissed me drove me fucking insane. I don’t think I ever told you that, but seeing you talk to any other girl when we went out made me feel like I was going fucking insane.

I can’t believe you let me be jealous about a guy, about you of all people. I’m honestly pissed at you for that. And, the fact that I can see you reading this, see you throw your head back laughing at this, that kind of smile on your face as rare as it is would make me even more pissed at you.

The first time you asked me to come to a game after we kissed was the worst. Together, both of us tried to act like it had never happened. Ally apparently kept texting you telling you what you should do next, since, of course, she would be the one in our friend group to not only see us kiss, but to record it. Another video for our wedding, apparently (I still don’t know what she meant by ‘another’). Regardless, we had continued on like nothing happened, like we hadn’t kissed. Like it hadn’t meant anything to you.

And I had to pretend the same, even though it was sending me into a spiral.

After the game, you told us how to meet you outside your locker room so we could go get dinner (I kind of hate matinee games? They’re too early to do anything before and end too early to do something meaningful after? I felt like we were supposed to get a senior citizens discount when we finally made it to dinner). I saw you talking to that one girl; she was gorgeous. Honestly, when you think of the perfect girl, you probably should think of her.

I saw you laugh and smile at her, and I felt a pit in my stomach wishing it was me you were talking to.

When you hugged her, your hand lingering on her arm and the smile on your face staying there after you walked away, before you saw Ally and I with Elias and Brock, I felt like I could scream.

You knew something was wrong when I barely said anything on the way over. You were the one who didn’t buy it when I said I was just tired from work still, that I hadn’t slept the night before. You were the one who called my bluff when I said I wasn’t hungry because you were the one who heard my stomach, who was on Facetime with me when I went to sleep the night before.

I hated that you were the one who could call me out; not Ally, who I’ve lived with and been best friends with for how many years, you. I hated that you were the reason I shut down.

I hated you for a second.

How was I supposed to know that was Jake’s sister?

From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

When you finally asked me out, I knew it was because Ally had threatened you (affectionately). I pretended to be surprised that you were going to ask me, but I knew it was coming, I just didn’t know when. You never really were the type to let everyone in on things right away, were you?

I was surprised how you had the audacity to take me out to dinner and only let me know after you dropped me off that you thought it was a date, our first date. It must have been nice to go into dinner knowing it was a date when I had no idea it was.

Sometimes I just wish you would have talked to me when you were thinking. You’re so quiet, you always look like you’re lost in thought, and I thought I could tell how to find you again. I felt like I knew everything, but apparently, I didn’t.

From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

Kelly told me that she wants to open up more in these letters. Apparently, I’m not letting myself ‘feel enough’ and that these letters are too vague, whatever that means.

Fine, Kelly.

You know when I knew for sure that I loved you? The first time we slept together.

I didn’t tell you for three weeks after that that I loved you, even though I knew, and you didn’t tell me you loved me for almost two months after that.

I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.

If you had told me, we wouldn’t have gotten so pissed off at each other all the time. I know I’m shit when it comes to sharing my feelings, but god, you were even worse.

The first time we fought was barely a real fight. It was just us not talking.

You were pissed off when I told you I had to do a project with Jamie. It’s not like I asked to be paired with him. I actually actively asked to not be anywhere near him as much as possible, but apparently, so does everyone else (capitalism is the worst, what do you mean the guy we all hate can stay at the job because he brings in a lot of money?) when I said I was talking to him at night because we had to get this project done, that the faster I could get the project done, the sooner I could go back to ignoring him.

Jamie was a fucking prick. Jamie is a fucking prick. But god, that night I would have talked to Jamie if it meant you didn’t act that way.

I don’t remember everything that brought us up to it, but I remember it dawning on me. I didn’t know for sure that you liked me, or if you hated Jamie more from the stories I had told you. I doubted you. I doubt you. I never told you that outright, in those words, because how do you tell the person you’re supposed to love that you don’t think they love you back?

I asked you if you kissed me that night because you actually wanted to, or if it was just to make Jamie mad. He was still in the bar, even if I didn’t see him. You had seen him. You could see him. You saw him when you kissed me. You saw him over my shoulder when you pulled away. You admitted to it.

You kissed me to get back at a guy you hadn’t said more than a couple words to.

And then you told me it was because you loved me. Because you were in love with me. That you apparently knew when you first met me that you were going to fall in love with me, if you hadn’t fallen already.

I stared at you, furious at you and believing that you started our relationship because you wanted to, what, claim me? Mark me? I don’t even know. But then you told me the one thing I wanted to hear from you and the only thing I wanted to do was throw something at you.

So I walked out of your apartment instead. I called Brock, I had him pick me up, and he drove me back to my and Ally’s place.

It was Brock who tried to convince me that what you said was real, that you actually meant it, and that he and Elias knew it was the truth because you told them. For some reason, you had waited until then, until we were screaming at each other, to tell me. It was Ally who needed to be calmed down after threatening to kill you, only once Brock pointed out that the city would probably riot against her.

I was numb.

And it was you who made me feel that way. I felt nothing. I wanted to feel so many things, anything really, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t feel a fucking thing. These letters are supposed to be me going back and figure out and really acknowledging what I was feeling throughout what I think were our biggest moments. But I didn’t feel anything.

Are you happy now, Kelly?

From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

I think after that last letter, I was nervous to write another. Ally found me sitting and crying at my desk. Apparently I never told her the full story of what had happened that night or why I didn’t talk to you for two weeks, even though she and Brock tried to get it out of me, Elias going over to your place once you called him. Elias didn’t know either, from the sound of it. We were Rory and Logan without the Bridal Party (if you still don’t get the Gilmore Girls reference, then we really shouldn’t have been together in the first place. We watched the show seven times, at least).

We didn’t really know how to be around each other for a bit after that, did we? It took us a while to get back to where we were before.

Who says that they love someone when they’re in the middle of a fight like that? Who says it for the first time like that? If you loved me, shouldn’t you have told me before? Shouldn’t you have told me in a different way?

I didn’t think you meant it when you told me you loved me, but everyone told me that you did, so I think I let myself believe it. At least at that point, I did. I think you loved me. You never seemed to be able to reassure me when I had my doubts, if you even knew that I had them. I know I loved you.

I’ve spent the last year and a half trying to convince myself that I don’t love you anymore.

Kelly, is that what these letters are supposed to be doing? Am I supposed to convince myself that I don’t love Quinn, or that I do?

We’re about to have a really intense session, aren’t we?

From,

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

At this point, I’m just mad. These letters are just making me mad. I’m still mad about how we broke up, I’m still mad that you kissed me the way you did.

I’m still mad that I think about you all the fucking time.

The reason we broke up is what makes me furious.

I told you nothing was going on with Jamie.

I don’t like him. I have never liked him. I will never like him. The only person who mattered to me the entire relationship was you. You are were the one who mattersed to me.

I told you so many times that Jamie was the one who kissed me. You knew I would never kiss that guy.

But the fact that you saw it? I’ve never felt like screaming and crying more than I did in that moment, causing a scene in public and embarrassing everyone be damned. The look on your face when I finally was able to push him off me, only to see you standing right there, drinks for both of us in your hands. I could see the tears in your eyes, your Adam's Apple bobbing up and down while you swallowed what I was sure was rage, anger, hurt, fury. You didn’t see that I was crying, too. You didn’t see that I was struggling to get him away from me. It was only a kiss, one that I didn’t want to happen, and you didn’t see anything other than his lips on mine.

If you did, you didn’t seem to care.

You nearly broke the glasses as you slammed them down on the table near you, knocking over multiple people when you stormed out of the bar.

I had to knee Jamie in the dick to get him off me so I could chase after you.

You broke up with me right there. I don’t know how I could forget the look in your eyes when you told me you didn’t want to see me anymore if I was going to cheat on you with Jamie when you were standing right there, as if I intended to do that. You looked like you could kill someone.

You didn’t care that I wasn’t the one who fucking kissed him, that I didn’t kiss him back, that you are the only person I want to kiss. If you heard anything I yelled at you when you were walking away, you didn’t care. You left me there, and I had to watch you walk away.

Ally found me on the sidewalk, sitting on the ground against the building outside where you told me you didn’t care about me anymore. I couldn’t even tell her what happened because I screamed so loud that my voice was gone.

Fuck you for that, Quinn.

Sarina

Dear Quinn,

Fine, I fucking miss you. That’s why I thought of you first to write to. There are so many fucking things that I never got to say, that I never got to ask, that I know you never told me that have been eating away at me and occupying my thoughts more than I want them to.

I miss you, I miss being held by you, touched by you, kissed by you. I miss the feeling if your skin against mine, the feeling of you inside me, for fucks sake. I miss when you would talk to me like I was the only person who mattered to you, because I know that you loved me as much as I love you.

I miss every god damn stupid habit that you have, every little quirk of yours that you did on a game day that would drive me fucking insane.

I still come home sometimes when you guys are on a road trip and expect you to call me, no matter where on the continent you are, because you missed me and I missed you and we needed to hear each others voices.

I miss the guys and being friends with them, even though Ally still talks to them and gets to see them.

You never let me tell you what really happened, because I don’t think you cared. I don’t know if you loved me.

I wish you did, because, fuck, I still love you.

Are you happy now, Kelly?

I still love Quinn. You’re going to tell me that I’m too young to say this, but: I will always love that stupid, sad, wonderful boy that I met by chance one night at a bar and got to spend time with. I will always love the guy who made me laugh so hard I couldn’t breathe and cry so hard I couldn’t speak. I will always love Quinn, no matter who else I will fall in love with, or out of love with, if I stay here in Vancouver until I die, or if he gets traded or if I move on my own.

Fuck.

Love,

Sarina

Dear Sarina,

I get that I was never supposed to see these. I probably am not supposed to know they even exist, but I’m fucking glad I do. You’re going to kill Ally for sending these to me, but, let’s face it, she’s the one who’s been pushing for us since minute one. Would we have had anything if we didn’t have Ally?

But I don’t want to talk about her.

I miss you.

I want you back.

I’m a fucking idiot for not being with you, for walking away from you that night.

You think that I didn’t love you? I’ve loved you this entire time. I loved you from the first time we talked, even though, you’re right, I didn’t say it when I should have because I’m an idiot.

Can we talk?

Love,

Quinn

Dear Quinn,

Yes.

Love,

Sarina

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #vancouver canucks #canucks #vancouver canucks fic #vancouver canucks imagine #canucks fic #canucks imagine #hockey #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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wylanlupin · 3 days ago

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february 14th | First I Love You | 802 words | @wolfstarmicrofic

“Daddy, look at me!” Selene runs into the room, screaming. Remus looks up at the name his daughter calls him. Harry too looks up from his phone, why his niece is screaming. Sirius is right at her heels, with a pleased smile on their face.

“Look my hair! Paddy did it,” she explains and smiles with the same beaming smile as her Paddy up at Remus. “Oh, I see, cariad. You look so pretty.”

“Spin for me, Little Selly.” Harry points his phone at Selene, to take a video with her beautiful white summer dress. She does just that and giggles when Harry compliments her.

Sirius braided her black curls in beautiful French braids, just like she loves to wear them herself. “So Harry, what’s new?” Sirius pops a grape in their mouth and watches him. Harry visibly blushes, which automatically wakes Remus and Sirius’ interest even more.

It’s Saturday and Harry randomly came over and said he wanted out from his ‘loud’ family, meaning his three younger sisters. For almost ten years it was just Harry and Charlotte, but after Sirius and Remus decided to have a child of their own, Lily and James tried again too and the twins Ivy and Jade were born.

Selene doesn’t notice anything and just tries to peel the grapes, which is almost impossible, but she’s her parents' daughter. Stubbornness and all.

“Well,” Harry starts and swallows hard. A bright brush colours his brown cheeks and he can’t hide his grin. “Something exciting happened.”

“Out with it, Prongslet!” Sirius’ grey eyes shine so bright that Remus almost forgets what they’re talking about, but then Harry says, “I had my first kiss.”

“What!?” Sirius exclaimed and Remus' eyes grew bigger. “With whom? Don’t say little Draco.” Harry laughs and shakes his head, “No, I don’t think that would’ve ever happened and I decided to move on and then I realised who is always on my side, except Ron and Hermione and we just grew even closer the last few weeks and yesterday I just kissed her!”

Remus feels Sirius vibrating with excitement. “And Luna is now my girlfriend,” he adds, almost looking shyly. Remus sees the love in his green eyes, Lily’s eyes.

“That’s so sweet. She is amazing. I’m so happy for you.” Remus agrees and gives Harry his well-wishes. Harry is now 16 years old, the same age they were when they came together and the rest of their lives started.

He and Sirius analyse the entire kiss in whispers with lots of giggles, while Remus and Selene prepare a fruit salad. “I think I love her,” he admits, “But it’s way too early to tell Luna. Do you remember when you first said ‘I love you’?”

Remus and Sirius’ eyes meet, as they both smile at the same memory. “Oh, that’s something you’ll never forget, Harry.”

Even Selene now looks at her Paddy with big eyes, waiting for them to tell the story behind her beaming smile. “I was already 17 years and Remus was your age, Harry. Our relationship was still very fresh and it was a day after our first Valentine’s Day. We laid in bed together, just being together and we talked for hours when Moony had to go home and we kissed goodbye and he just said the three sweet words. I was so shocked but also so happy and Moony panicked as well and had the audacity to apologise and then he just ran home. The next day I said it back and all was good, but back then it was all dramatic and such big words, now it’s just a cute story to tell your child and godchild.”

Remus has to laugh, “I thought I ruined everything! It was certainly a roller coaster of emotions. But with a happy ending.” He leans down and gives Sirius’ cheek a kiss. “I love you,” he murmurs against her skin and smiles.

Even now after over twenty years together, she still blushes at those words and looks up with so much affection reflecting in her eyes.

“That’s cute, but not how I plan to tell my girlfriend I love her. I plan on doing it a little more romantically.” Sirius snores at that, “Would be the first Potter to say it romantically.”

“Oh I know, my Dad was an embarrassment,” Harry agrees. “But do you know the story of how your grandpa told your grandma?” Sirius smirks at their godson, having the pleasure of telling Harry their favourite story about Monty and Effie.

Knowing the Potters, Harry wouldn’t last two weeks till he'd just burst out the three words at Luna. Remus smiles to himself and starts answering all the questions Selene has to this topic, which are many.

#wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #sirius black #remus lupin #fanfic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #microfic #marauders microfic #wolfstar microfic #writer on tumblr #writing fest #ao3 fanfics #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #wolfstar daughter

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fizzyapplecandy · 19 hours ago

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The one with the vampire royals and their doll, Part 2

Part 1

Ateez Seonghwa X Hongjoong X Reader poly imagine

Genre: poly Ateez, vampire Matz, strangers to lovers, fluff, mature language, mild smut in future chapters, some angst

Word count: 1.4k

You get an unexpected visit from one of the gorgeous man you can't stop thinking about.

It's been a few days since your encounter with the strange men. You honestly don't know how to feel. Your emotions have gone haywire while thinking about both of them.

You knew it was ridiculous to think you had a chance with either of them, they seemed like a lovely match. Your thoughts were scattered, and the heartbreak over your beloved rings wasn't going away. It wasn't even about the money, that comes and goes in life, it was more of the symbolism of them.

The rings were your first big purchase, one you loved the most out of your whole shop. Now, an empty hole sat in your already wounded heart, but that's life you suppose. You'd get over it eventually.

Today hasn't been busy, and you're honestly thankful for that. You were sitting on one of the sofas, nursing a warm cup of blueberry tea, taking in the sunlight coming through your shop window. Yeosang's boyfriend was finally back home, so you were left to your own devices. Just as you were about to turn to a new page of your fantasy book, you heard the bell on your doll jingle.

"Hello again."

You froze, looking at the blonde man you couldn't stop thinking about since he left your shop.

"Oh."

The man chuckled, hands clasped behind his back. You stood up slowly, putting your book on the table.

"I didn't expect to see you again." You said in a whisper.

He slowly approached you, almost afraid of your reaction.

"I understand that. We kind of left off on a bad note. I'd like to change that."

"Does your husband know you're here?"

He was now closer, leaning on one of the sofas. His expression softened a bit.

"He does. We decided it's best if he... Stepped back for now. I know he can be a bit intense at first, but Hongjoong is a sweetheart when you get to know him."

You snickered. "Hard to believe, but you know him better."

He nodded, a small smile appearing. "I get where you're coming from. Say, do you accept donations here?"

You gasped, almost offended. "No, I do not. Your money is no good here."

He raised his palms. "Oh, no, no. I wasn't talking about money. This is an antique shop, right? I'm talking about, well, antiques."

"You want to give me something for my shop?" It was hard to believe he understood your concept, but looking at his suit today, you imagine he was well informed. It seemed like he was into fashion, but not the modern one. He looked like he escaped a Disney movie, landing right in front of you.

You crossed your arms in front of you. "What's your name?"

He wasn't expecting that, but he almost forgot he never got the chance to introduce himself.

"I'm Seonghwa. What's yours?"

"Y/N. So, Seonghwa... What have you got for me?"

The blonde man stiffened when his name left your mouth. A shiver went down Seonghwa's spine, and his ice cold skin almost felt warm around his cheeks.

"Well... I've got a bunch of things I'd like to donate, but I only brought something small today. Think of it as a gift to you, not the shop."

He reached into his suit pocket and took out a small velvet bag. He held his hand out, waiting for you to take it.

"Go on, I won't bite."

His smirk made you feel uneasy, and you kind of sensed there was something sinister behind his statement.

Slowly, you took the bag, making sure your fingers didn't touch. You weren't sure you'd be ready to feel the strange spark like last time your palms grazed.

You opened the pouch, eyes going wide.

"Are you crazy?" Seonghwa laughed, the tone almost melodic.

"Maybe a little. Do you like it?"

"This is insane, I can't take this."

The bracelet you found inside probably cost more than your entire shop. The man was rich, and you couldn't help but wonder what he did for a living. The little bracelet sparkled in the sunlight, the white gold almost blinding you. It was simple, but elegant.

"Yes, you can. This is a token of our appreciation for giving us the rings back. You don't know how happy you've made us, and this isn't enough to show our gratefulness, but it's a start."

"Seonghwa..."

He smiled again, almost leaning towards you.

"My name sounds nice coming from your sweet mouth. I hope to hear it more."

You blushed, caressing the bracelet with your fingers. The man made you nervous, but you weren't sure if it was in a good way.

"I... Thank you. Truly, this is the most beautiful thing I've seen in my life."

He looked into your eyes, tongue wetting his lips.

"I can say the same thing."

You cleared your throat, trying to unclasp the bracelet to put around your wrist. With him watching you do intensely, it made you extremely clumsy.

"Here, let me help."

He went over the sofa, standing too close to you. He felt cold again, and it was amazing how you could feel it without touching him. It almost made your nerves calm down, and you were thankful for that.

Seonghwa took the bracelet, opening the clasp, reaching over for your hand. You glanced at each other, slight smiles on both of your faces. He gently held your wrist, securing the dainty band.

You thought he'd let go, but your eyes widened when he brought your wrist towards him, placing a gentle kiss on it.

"I knew it would suit you."

You were frozen in place, almost shaking. You pulled your hand away, placing it on your rapidly beating heart.

"Thank you, again. You should thank your husband as well."

"I'll make sure to relay the message, he'll be pleased to know you thought of him."

He took a step back from you, looking around the shop again.

"If you don't mind, I'll be back soon. As I've said, I have a few pieces to donate to you. I think they've served their purpose. It's time to re-home them."

You shook your head. "You don't have to do that."

"Nonsense. Maybe I'll send in Hongjoong next time. Don't want him to be too jealous of me. In the meantime, take care doll."

Before you could question his statement, he turned around and went towards the door.

"Goodbye, doll."

With that, Seonghwa was out, and you were left alone with a racing heart, confused mind, and a million dollar bracelet around your wrist.

"She really said that? She mentioned me? Don't joke around Hwa!"

"I'm not, love! You know I'd never lie to you."

Hongjoong held onto his whisky glass, pacing in front of their fireplace. Both him and Seonghwa were clad in plushy robes, nursing glasses of their alcohol of choice. Seonghwa was telling his husband about his day, and he just reached the topic of his visit to your shop.

"Maybe she will eventually soften up, you know? We just have to be calculated."

Seonghwa sighed, glancing at his precious ring. He saved the best for last, clearing his throat.

"There is one more thing."

Hongjoong stopped in his tracks, rushing towards the couch. He almost squashed Seonghwa with how close he sat.

"Go on."

"My ring... I had to hide my hands behind my back. I felt it heat up before it glowed."

Hongjoong almost lost his marbles.

"And I wasn't even there! Oh Hwa, what are we going to do?"

The blonde man placed his hand on his grinning husband's cheek.

"Calm down now. I think I softened her up a bit today. You should see how the bracelet fits her. It is one of your best works, after all."

Hongjoong had a knack for jewellery making, and the bracelet was one of the first pieces he crafted for his other half. He knew it would suit you, that's why they agreed it would be the perfect gift.

"I'm feeling all warm inside, Hwa. Please let me go next!"

Seonghwa chuckled. "Okay, okay. But give it a couple of days. We don't want to overwhelm her. But you have to be nice! She is uneasy, I can feel her nervousness."

"Of course, my star. I made the mistake of scaring her once, I won't do it again."

With that, he made himself comfortable in his husband's arms, glancing at the flames in front of them.

The men were now more sure than ever. You had to be theirs, and they would do anything to make it happen.

#ateez #ateez imagines #imagine #ateez fanfic #fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez matz #poly ateez x reader #seongjoong #ateez vampire #vampire imagine

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moonandst4rs · 5 hours ago

Text

“It's you I welcome death with, As the world, as the world caves in”

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Masterlist

DEAN WINCHESTER X F!READER

WC: 1.1K

Summary: Dean and you lie in bed, preparing to face Lucifer tomorrow, (I'm awful at summaries)

Warnings / Content: Inspired by As the world caves in. no use of y/n, fluffy, slight angst, set in 5x10, "Abandon All Hope"

A/N: Trying to write more dialogue, let me know what you think ! Feel free to ask questions or simply chat. Any feedback and requests are welcome !! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The night was still, but there was an eerie tension in the air, the kind that weighed heavy on your chest, making it hard to breathe, suffocating you slowly. Tomorrow, everything could end. Tomorrow, you, Sam, Dean,, Ellen, Bobby, Cas and Jo were heading into a battle you weren’t sure anyone could survive. Lucifer. The devil himself. The thought of it was almost too much to bear, but there was no room for fear now. Not tonight.

In the darkened bedroom of Bobby’s home, Dean lay beside you, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his brow furrowed in deep thought. The faint orange glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw. He hadn’t said much since you got in bed. Sam and Cas were off doing their own thing, Ellen, Bobby and Jo were drinking, all preparing in their own ways. But here, it was just the two of you, blanketed in the fragile peace before the storm.

You rolled onto your side, watching him for a moment. His face was tense, the weight of what was coming pressing down on him more than usual. Dean was always the one carrying the burden, the one shouldering the impossible decisions, determined to keep fighting against all odds, but tonight…tonight felt heavier.

“You okay?” you whispered, your voice barely breaking the silence.

Dean let out a slow breath, his chest rising and falling like he was carrying the weight of the world in that single sigh. His hand found yours under the sheets, his calloused fingers brushing against your knuckles. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say…if there’s anything to say.”

You shifted closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "We don’t have to talk about tomorrow. Not yet," you murmured, your fingers interlacing with his. "Tonight’s about us."

Dean’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if he’d let himself relax. He never did, hwas always so focused on the next fight, the next threat. But slowly, he turned his head, his green eyes meeting yours, softening in a way they rarely did.

“How do you do that?” he asked quietly, a small, almost sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Make me feel like everything’s not going to hell, even when we both know it is?”

You gave a soft laugh, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "I guess I’m just stubborn. Someone’s gotta keep you grounded."

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he reached up to brush a thumb across your cheek. The tenderness in his touch made your heart ache. Dean wasn’t good with words, but his touch…it spoke volumes. “Yeah, well, I think I’ve been leaning on you too much,” he muttered, though there was no real weight to the words. “You deserve better than this mess.”

You shook your head and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He kissed you back, slow and deep, like he was trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into that moment. When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, your fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw, over the light stubbled that caressed his face.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” you whispered, and you meant it. You’d made your choice a long time ago. This life, as dangerous and uncertain as it was, was where you belonged—with him, with Sam, with the family you found.

Dean’s hand came to rest on the small of your back, pulling you closer until you were practically lying on top of him. His lips brushed against your temple, then your forehead, in soft, lingering kisses. "You know," he murmured, his voice a little rougher now, "you make it real hard to be the tough guy."

You smiled softly against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. “Good,” you whispered back. “You don’t always have to be the tough guy.”

He chuckled, but it was tinged with something deeper, something more vulnerable. “I’m not scared of tomorrow,” he said after a beat, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. "Not for me. But for you…for Sam…for you all."

You tightened your hold on him, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. “We’ll figure it out, Dean. We always do.”

He didn’t respond right away, just stared at the ceiling, his thumb idly tracing circles on your back. After a long silence, he finally spoke. “If this is it, if tomorrow…” He trailed off, swallowing hard. “I just want you to know—”

You cut him off, lifting your head to look into his eyes. "I know," you whispered, placing your hand over his heart. "I know, Dean."

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, the weight of everything,the end of the world, Lucifer, the battles they’d fought and the ones they still had to face it all seemed to fade away. There was only the two of you, tangled up in each other, holding on to what little time you had left.

Dean leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was softer than any words he could have spoken. It was full of everything he didn’t know how to say, everything he felt but couldn’t put into words. And you kissed him back, pouring all of your love, your hope, and your fear into that single moment, like it was the last chance you’d ever get.

When you finally pulled apart, you rested your head on his chest again, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, grounding yourself in the sound of him. Dean’s hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, and for the first time that night, you felt him truly relax beneath you.

The world outside was falling apart, but here, in this bed, in this moment, none of it mattered. Tomorrow could wait. For tonight, it was just you and Dean, wrapped in each other, holding on to the quiet before the storm.

“I love you,” you whispered against his skin, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

Dean tightened his hold on you, pressing his lips to your hair. “I love you, too,” he whispered back, his voice heavy with the weight of his words. And for tonight, being in Bobby's house with everyone he loved, you next to him, it was enough.

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

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nerdsnuff · 1 day ago

Note

Hello!!! Id love to request a reader x bokuto x akashi :3 In a aquarium date..! Thank you!!!!! ^_^

AHHH. MY FIRST HAIKYUU REQ I DIDNT EXPECT ANY AT ALL??? THANKYOU FOR ACKNOWLEDGING I WRITE HAIKYUUU I LOVE. YOU AND YOUR POLY ANON THIS IS SO CUTE FUICUDJKFJ (OVERJOYED). taking a break from pjeg to post hq mhmm 🙂‍↕️ anyway happy valentines!

“bokuto-san, we should go home now… we’ve been here for awhile…” akaashi calls out, patting a very fascinated bokuto on his back. he turns his head towards his raven haired boyfriend with a pout, hair drooping.

“aww but… but… look at this fish! it seems to really like me! it keeps following me whenever i move around… you’ve noticed that, right babe?” bokuto turns to face you now, and akaashi spares his own glance. you look up at the fish behind bokuto, a heniochus (based on what you remember reading while walking around the aquarium).

it’s cute how much it looks like bokuto, black and white stripes to match his hair and a tint of yellow on its fins to match his big eyes. it’s triangular shaped, reminds you of your boyfriends spiked up hair. it’s a small fish in a big tall tank, probably with a hundred more other fishes, yet somehow this whole time it never followed it’s friends and only gave it’s attention to bokto.

“y’know… i think the fish thinks bokuto is like a bigger version of itself or something” you say, stepping closer to bokuto. akaashi raises an eyebrow from behind you before stepping closer himself, a ‘huh?’ escaping his mouth. “do you see the similarities?” you ask.

“hey… you’re right, it does look like me!” bokuto cheers, laughing. “no wonder it likes me so much, isn’t that right little guy?” he taps his fingers on the glass directly in front of the fish. it doesn’t react much, probably cause this isn’t some movie.

“ah, it’s the colors huh?” akaashi speaks up. you nod, a soft smile on your face.

“yeah, that’s exactly it” you respond. now that both you and akaashi noticed it, it’s hard not to feel some sort of cuteness aggression as bokuto continues to baby talks the fish that probably doesn’t hear him behind the thick glass.

“still though, akaashi does have a point. it’s getting late and we’ve been here all day! i’m getting bored… and aren’t you hungry?” you chime up again, holding onto bokuto’s shoulder. he turns to look at you, a pondering look on his face.

“huh, i guess i got so distracted i didn’t even think about eating…”

suddenly, his stomach grumbles just in time.

“oh. okay well, there’s that…” he laughs. you can’t help but join in, which infects akaashi.

“you heard him. well, moreso his stomach. we’ve had a long day and our energies are getting low. here, take a picture with the fish, bokuto-san. that way you’ll remember it. and who knows, we can come back here and meet it again” akaashi spoke, getting his phone camera ready.

bokuto poses with the fish, who hasn’t changed it’s position but is very much alive. it’s fins sway in the water, as bokuto reaches up to make a peace sign.

“okay, got it. can we go now?” akaashi says nicely, showing bokuto the picture as he agrees.

“ha, hey! i sure do look handsome, don’t you think babe?” he flashes a bright smile to you, and you smile back.

“always, ko” you giggle.

he says bye to the fish one last time, then the three of you finally decide to leave the place for good. on the way to the exit, you pass by the merchandise shop. there are many things sold there, from keychains to shirts, even some hats. but despite all the crazy kooky accessories, one in particular caught bokuto’s eye. his eyes sparkle upon catching glimpse of it.

“whoa— hey wait i wanna buy something” he says quickly to you and akaashi, which makes you both cock your head in confusion. then you finally see what he grabs.

“ah,” akaashi lets out a soft smile. “that’s a keychain of the fish from earlier”

#🧇#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq #hq x reader #hq x you #bokuto koutarou #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #i love you poly people

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theherothesavior · 3 days ago

Text

Joel Miller x AFAB reader

Warnings: alcohol, slapping (not from Joel), light angst, my shitty writing, not proofread.

Author’s Note: This is the first thing I’ve ever really posted in here for a character so please be kind. Feedback is always appreciated.

Word Count: ~3k

………………….…………………………………………………………

Three months in Jackson means nothing when your brain is still out there. Out where the ghosts of the past linger as pale memories of a life you never even got the chance to live. No graduating high school, no getting to enjoy college, hell, not even a normal relationship with someone where the worst thing that could happen would most likely have been a shitty break-up and not watching them get eaten by a faceless fungus monster. Every day in Jackson is a reminder of what you’ve lost, or rather, what was taken from you. This illusion of a normal community makes you sick as you walk down to the bar, the only real thing in this fake town that is worth being here.

Passing through the Tipsy Bison to one of the stools against the bar is the highlight of each night at this point. Jack, the surly bartender who’s a spitting image of Willie Nelson, pours you your regular and you thank him, tipping your head back to down it before nodding for another. Around the fourth drink, the familiar smell of campfire and saddle leather settles next to you.

“Rough day?” He grumbles softly, Jack giving him his usual drink as well.

“Not in the mood, Joel.” You huff back, completely uninterested in speaking with your housemate at this moment. He scoffs next to you and your jaw clenches in aggravation. “What?” You ask through clenched teeth.

“Nothin’... just wonderin’ what’s up your ass lately.” He whispers, head turning to face you. “You’ve been like this since we got back here and decided to stay.” You avoid looking at him, continuing to sip your drink, making him sigh and move forward. “Listen, darlin’... I don’t really care if you talk to me or not, but you’re upsetting Ellie. She thinks you’re pissed at her.”

“I’m not,” You answer simply.

“Yeah, I know that but she doesn’t… she even said you came home drunk the other night and said some stuff about wanting to go back out there.” His voice is eerily soft, making you finally look at him. Remorse bubbles up your throat, wishing you could take those words back from her. You swallow it down.

“It’s not because of her. She shouldn’t worry about it.” You finish your drink, a little tipsy at this point, but wave to Jack for another. The next one comes and goes in the blink of an eye, and the next…and the one after that. When you call for your eighth drink, thoroughly drunk at this point, Joel stops you from downing it.

“You’re done, darlin’. Let’s go home.” His tone, still as soft as earlier and it makes my chest ache, the usual rough timber of his voice, lowering to a volume only you can hear. You push the warm feeling of him away, wanting to drown it in the warmth of liquor instead.

“No. Leave me alone.” You say, reaching for the drink. He quickly downs it, keeping one arm on your waist as you lean too far off the stool, practically falling in his lap. “Asshole.” Your voice raises and he immediately rises, towering over you.

“Enough.” His voice, dangerously low as he glares down at you.

“I’m not a child, Joel.” You bite back, but the words slur from your tongue, falling between you two like fluff. “Then stop actin’ like one.” He says sternly, the commanding look on his face shooting straight down your body. Your knees grow weak and you can’t tell if it’s from him or the copious amount of alcohol from this evening.

“Don’t talk to me like that…” your voice barely above a whisper, no real power behind it. You push his hands off your hips and stumble out of the building, boots crunching as they meet the snow. The cold air whips across your cheek as you tilt your head back to face the sky, eyes closed, letting the snowflakes land in your lashes. For a moment, everything’s normal. The world didn’t end. You’re just standing drunk in the snow, enjoying the beauty of life, feeling as weightless and soft as the snow melting against your cheeks.

That doesn’t last long.

“Awe… are you drunk again?” A grating voice pulls you from your thoughts, from your moment of peace. You turn carefully and open your hazy eyes to see Mallory. The terrible woman who lives next door to you, Ellie, and Joel. The same irritating woman who is constantly trying to live in Joel’s pants. Her condescending smirk lingers on her face as you manage to answer, obviously drunk.

“Maybe. But at least I don’t look like you.” It makes no sense, but you’re too gone to care. She scoffs out a laugh. “Yeah, too bad for you, sweetie, ‘cause Joel seems to actually notice me.” You can’t help the giggle that crosses your lips before immediately answering, “Joel thinks you look like a 40-year-old busted Barbie doll.” Your voice, slurred, but the insult doesn’t go unheard by Mallory. “Said…. He said… he thinks all the plastic in your body is what keeps anything from biting you. S’how you survived this long.” You giggle more to yourself but Mallory moves quickly, way too fast for your drunken reflexes, slapping you across the face. You hold your cheek, the cold weather making the sting worse.

“What the hell!?” You exclaim.

“Stupid whore! You don’t get to speak to me that way! You think that just because you have Joel wrapped around your finger and shoved so deep down your throat, you can walk around this town like you can’t be touched. Well… you’ve never been more wrong. He’ll see. He’ll see just what a liar you really are.” With that final threat, she shoves you hard, causing you to fall on your back in the snow. Your drunken mind struggles to catch up to what just happened and how you’re suddenly parallel with the night sky, a searing pain traveling up your spine.

“Shit..shit..shit…” You roll on your back, the cold seeping through your coat reminding you of the large gash you’ve been hiding for a few days now. Mallory laughs at you, bitterly, as you writhe on the ground, unable to get up in your drunken state. Her laughter gets drowned out by the familiar sound of Joel’s voice coming closer.”

“Hey! What the fuck is going on here?” He comes stomping over, glaring at Mallory as she plasters a look of faux concern on her face.

“I don’t know, I think she fell because she’s drunk again. I was coming to help her up and take her home to you.” Her fake sweetness makes your teeth hurt just hearing it as Joel kneels next to you.

“Come on, darlin’.” One arm slips under your shoulders while his other hand holds yours helping you to your feet. “Easy.” He whispers in your ear, his hand sliding down your back making you hiss and recoil in pain, stumbling back at the quick motion and almost falling down. “What? What’s wrong?” His eyes soften as he searches your face, his chest tight with worry as he watches you draw away from him. You mumble something incoherently, and he can’t understand what you’re trying to say. Mallory attempts to say something to him, her words falling on deaf ears as he slowly and carefully brings you back home. “Come on, up to the bathroom.” His voice, sweet but stern in your ear as he helps you upstairs, guiding you to sit on the lid of the toilet.

“I’m gonna take this off, okay?” He tugs at your coat’s zipper with a soft nod, like he’s speaking to a toddler, waiting for you to nod back before actually taking it off. The chunky sound of your coat unzipping, mixed with your drunken breathing is the only sound in the room. Once it’s off, Joel puts your coat to the side before turning back to you. “Okay, I need you to turn around and straddle the seat for me.” His hands tenderly move to your elbows, helping to shift positions so he can get a full view of your back. You sit back down and giggle.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, a slight grin on his face.

“Straddle,” you giggle more. “It’s a funny word.” Joel huffs out a laugh behind you, shaking his head. “Alright, Giggles, I’m gonna lift your shirt to check your back now.”

“You’re not even going to buy me dinner before you undress me, Miller?” You joke and once again he grins when you can’t see, shaking his head. He doesn’t answer while he grabs the hem of your shirt and starts to carefully roll it up your back with his warm hands. Always so warm, even though it’s below 20 degrees out. His whole aura, the color of a diminishing fire. Not as bright as it once was, but still has the potential to burn bright again. Not in the same way, never in the same way, but warm nonetheless.

His hands move your shirt up and you hear his breath catch in his throat. “…sweet girl.” His words, laced with stress and pity as his fingers delicately stroke your bare skin. You shudder from his gentle touch and the cool air hitting your exposed flesh. “When the hell is this from? This doesn’t look new.” He asks, confused.

“S’not… from those raiders a couple of days ago.” You mumble, even in your drunken state you know he’s going to be pissed.

“2 weeks?!” He exclaims, stressed. “You had this for two weeks and it looks barely healed. Have you even been taking care of it? Or are you giving up on that too?” His hand moves and you hiss as your shirt grazes the irritated wound, making you just pull the shirt over your head leaving your top half completely bare.

“What do you mean given up on that too, Joel? What else have I given up on?” You manage to string the sentence together with enough sobriety to get your irritation across.

“Nothing… it means nothing.” His voice, withdrawn as he grabs the first aid kit from under the sink before turning the conversation back toward my back. “Why’d you hide this for two weeks? It looks like it’s a day away from infection.” He mumbles angrily finding an alcohol wipe from the box and running it over the wound making you grip the top of the toilet tank in pain. “Why didn’t you say anything about this?” He asks, a bit of frustration in his voice. You sigh in relief as he stops using the alcohol on your cut flesh, “...because I knew you’d freak out about it. You’d get all Joel about it and make me feel like shit.”

You answer quietly, each pass of bandage and cleaning solution on your skin, sobering you up slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, offended, his hands pausing against your spine.

“It means. Joel, that you tend to overreact over little things.”

“Little things?!” His voice raises, “This is a huge thing!” He yells, making you turn around on the top of the toilet seat to face him. “It’s a big cut, so what? It was fine until Mallory slapped me and shoved me onto the ground! You should be angry at her, not me.” You seethe, the alcohol making your bite not as strong as you want. “I’m angry at the both of you! Mallory is a bitter woman who is obsessed with the idea of me liking her, and I’ll deal with how she treats you tomorrow, but you,” he pauses, lowering his voice as he tries to calm himself down. Though his volume is quieter, his breathing is still heavy as he steadies himself to answer. “...you are a fuckin’ idiot for not telling me about something like that.”

You scoff, “I’m an idiot? You’re an asshole.” You stand up, “You already made me feel like shit about that altercation with those raiders. If I told you about the cut on top of that, you would have started a fight about me not going on patrols anymore.”

He laughs mirthlessly, “Damn right I would have. I didn’t want you going out there when we were out there!” The stress is evident in his voice as he steps closer.

“Okay, I’m drunk, so that makes zero sense.” You answer confused, unable to process his words at the moment. “You just like having control over what I do. You treat me like a child, like I don’t know what’s going on ever and that you’re the only one who gets a say in my life.” Your words are less slurred that earlier, but you’re still nowhere near sober enough to be having this conversation. “You act like you care, but you really don’t. You just want me around because you’re too scared to have your life change in anyway you can’t control. You see me as a burden to take care of, you think I can’t take care of myself and you don’t want me.” Half the things you’re saying aren’t true, you know he’s aware of your ability to protect yourself, but in this moment you just want to yell at him. You just want to make him feel something for you other than the indifference you believe he feels. Something. Anything that means he cares in the way you want him to, the way you’re too scared to admit to even yourself, let alone him.

His jaw clenches, suddenly aware of the state you’re in as you stand in front of him. His eyes drift to your completely exposes top half, lingering on your breasts for a moment before moving back up to your eyes, schooling his features. “Darlin’... if you believe all that, then you really are an idiot.” He says flatly, internally trying to calm the inner turmoil brewing within him. He wants to tell you everything. He wants to admit why he worries, why he’s so protective, why he gets aggravated when you don’t listen to him wanting to keep you safe. “Put your shirt on and go to bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” His voice leaves no room for argument, but you try anyway.

“There you go again! Telling me what to do, when I don’t want you to.” You turn, grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head. “There’s only one reason I’d let you tell me what to do, but you don’t want that.” You mumble to yoursel, bitterly, not expecting him to hear all of what you said. When you turn, he’s stalking toward you, backing you up against the wall, his hand reaching to your waist to stop you right before your wounded spine hits the hard surface. He looks down, inches from your face, eyes almost black.

“You don’t tell me what I want. You don’t know what I do or don’t want.” His voice, at a dangerous level, his breath hot on your neck as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Now, you’re gonna be a good girl, go to bed, and we’ll talk about all of this in the morning.” You gasp at his firmness but you still go to protest. He leaves you no room for argument. “No. No arguments. All I want to hear is ‘Yes, Joel.’ and then go to bed.” He drops his gaze, looking at you to make sure you’re understanding him while waiting for your reply.

“Yes, Joel…” You answer with a small voice. He nods and moves to the side to let you pass by and exit the bathroom. You move slowly to your bedroom, still drunk and even more confused as you drop to your bed with a heavy sigh. As soon as your head hits your pillow, you’re out.

The stabbing pain in your head reminds you of the overconsumption of liquor you had the night beforehand. With your face smushed against your pillow, your fingers tighten around the sheets as the room spins around you. With a groan, your attempt to sit up is over powered by the drastic shift of your insides, a tidal wave of nausea filling up your stomach, weighing you down like a flood filling a once empty pool. As you manage to shift onto your back, the memories of last night play in your mind. Each moment more vivid than the last as they project themselves onto the ceiling above you.

“Fuck…” You mumble to yourself, the heels of your palms pushing against your eyes like a reset button you so desperately need to work, but knowing it won’t. After another five minutes of staring at the ceiling, you manage to sit up, closing your eyes until you gain your equilibrium once again. With an awkward stretch, a sharp pain shoots across your back, making you yelp like a wounded puppy, and ignore the nausea as you shoot out of bed and rush to the mirror attached to the back of your door. You twist your torso with a hiss, attempting to lift your shirt at the same time to see what’s causing the burning sensation on your back.

When you manage to lift the well-worn fabric, you’re met with a giant piece of gauze on your skin, stretching over your spine. With the sight, more of the night comes rushing back to you. You let your head fall back, eyes closed in regret and frustration before looking back into the mirror. Something on the nightstand catches your attention, a scrap of paper. Crossing the room, your chest tightens when you read the words.

We need to talk -Joel.

#joel miller x reader #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller smut

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beef-brisket · 2 days ago

Note

((Sorry this good a hot second, I always have to bust out the map when I write this 😫😂😂))

They spent a day of walking along the base of the Misty Mountains. The views were breathtaking.

Lucifer has never been so far from home, and while the journey has been treacherous at best, there were a lot of moments that were making the journey more than worth it.

Looking over to Adam, who was currently walking with Alastor, he felt his heart flutter. He didn't expect to find something more than a friend but he wasn't complaining.

Adam: We're going to hit the Ettenmoors. We going around?

Alastor: Hm, unless you want to go over.

Adam scoffed: Are you being a smart ass?

Alastor smirked: I'm just asking, my deer~.

Lucifer didn't mean to easedrop, but he's curious about these mountains. Adam sounded tense.

Adam: All I'm saying- is that it's a dangerous place. We need to be vigilant-.

Alastor: Adam. I've studied these lands for years. I know what dangers lie here, and besides, you have to expect danger at every corner. We'll go over the Ettenmoors, we'll cover more land, and save time... oh, fear, not my deer elf, I'm sure nothing bad will happen. Not with you here~.

Adam stopped and watched as Alastor walked off. The rest of the company was catching up behind him.

Rubbing his face, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking to his right, he saw Angel, who was about to talk to him, until Husk walked past and grabbed Angel's arm and pulled him away.

As Lucifer got closer, Adam groaned: Well, hopefully that fucker gets taken out by a troll. Or an orc. But knowing his luck, he'd get taken in. He looks like one of those ugly fucks.

Lucifer chuckled and petted the side of Adam's leg: You two really need to unpack this hate.

Adam: Unpack? Lu, there's nothing to unpack. He feels threatened because I showed Angel a better time than he ever would... he's only with the fucker because Ange likes big guys.

Lucifer: Uh... Husk isn't big. She's shorter than you.

Adam smirked and winked at Lucifer: I wasn't talking about height~.

Lucifer: Ah, big asses, I see.

Adam laughed as Lucifer started walking off. Catching up to the hobbit, Adam's voice took on a serious tone.

Adam: Look, I'm serious about this place. The Ettenmoors? Fucking dangerous. We need to cover a lot of ground during the day and find somewhere extremely well hidden at night. We're getting into troll territory.

Lucifer: Trolls? I've only seen them once, and the thought of seeing them again... we won't be able to just pack up and leave, will we?

Adam: ...Probably not. It would be a huge risk. I told Alastor we should go around, but... he doesn't listen. Typical rangers... amd typical humans.

Lucifer: ...I've never been so far from home. And I've never gone this long without seeing my Charlie... but I trust you, Adam. With my life. I don't fear orcs or trolls as long as your with me.

Adam smiled: You're a cutie, you know that?

Lucifer chuckled: I've heard that a few times~.

Lord Of The Rings!au!!!!

Adam- an elf born in Rivendell, but was lost when Orcs attacked his parents.

He was raised by dwarfs, so he's a beefy elf that uses axes instead of bows. Growing up, he's been an outcast to his tribe of dwarfs, and whenever he visits the elves, he's an outcast there, to.

One day, on a trip to Rivendell, he meets Angel, who instantly has the hots for Adam. They tried a relationship, but they both decided they'd be better suited as friends.

Eventually, they join a group of adventures that get hired for different things.

In Hobbiton, is Lucifer. A toymaker who enjoys the peaceful life of carving, creating and raising his little daughter, Charlie.

But that all changes when Alastor, a human ranger, knocks on his door. In forming him that his brother, Michael, is working for Sauron, and they need his help to break through to his brother.

Unfortunately for Lucifer, Alastor won't tell him anymore details until the rest of his group show up.

As more and more people turn up, Lucifer is getting incredibly frustrated. Not only are they damaging his hobbit hole, their also keeping his daughter up past her bedtime. Not that Charlie minds.

But one last knock at the door makes Alastor roll his eyes.

Alastor: Angel, deer. You really need to remind that man to arrive on time. This is very unprofessional.

Angel: What can I say, Al? Adam likes to hang out at the bars a bit longer than us~.

Alastor: Good lord... Mr Magne, would you mind?

Lucifer grumpled and went to open the door. He was in complete awe as a tall man steps through. He's wearing heavy dwarven armor, but he's most definitely not a dwarf.

Adam: Yo, is this...

The man pulls out a strip of paper: Lucy Furr's place?

Lucifer: Uh- oh- that's "Lucifer-"

Angel: Addy! Get your ass in here!

Lucifer jumped out of the way as Adam dropped his weapons and made his way over to Angel.

Adam: Hey, cunt!

Alastor: Adam. Language, please. Mr Magne, have a seat, we'll discuss the details.

Lucifer eventually made his way back to the dining room. He was a little shocked to see Charlie crawling all over Adam and laughing. But thankfully, the tallest being Lucifer had ever seen- and most intimidating - was laughing along with his daughter.

Lucifer: S-So-.

Alastor: We are employed by Lord Elrond. Michael Magne, nt he name of Sauron, has stolen his ring. Vilya, the ring of Sapphire.

Lucifer: Wait- one of the Three Rings?

Husk: The very same.

Alastor: It's our job to get it back before it's tainted by Lord Sauron. This is where you come in.

Lucifer: Me? How?

Angel: Michael's your brother, right? You Hobbits are meant to be close, yeah?

Lucifer: That's... slightly racist. But... yes. If there's anyone that could get through to him, it would be me.

Adam: And who's going to be looking after his adorable nugget?

Charlie laughed as Adam lifted her up and bounced her, making her squeal.

Lucifer: Oh- uh- Charlie- sweetie, you should get ready for bed-.

Charlie: No!

Adam: Ha! I like this one.

Lucifer glared at the man before turning to Alastor: Is there a contract or something?

Alastor smiled: Oh, of course~.

Dude YES!!

Alastor pulled out the contract and Lucifer looked it over. Every detail was there and everything seemed to be in order.

Charlie: Can I see??

Lucifer: Sweetie, no, look when do we have to leave? Where is he?

Alastor: That's the thing we have to go looking for him and we need to leave in the morning.

Lucifer looked at him: Tomorrow morning?

Alastor: Yes, this is an urgent matter.

Charlie: Can I come daddy!?

Lucifer sighed and rubbed his temples, he can't do anything if he has to worry about his sweet Charlie too.

Lucifer: No sweetie, you're gonna stay with your uncle Gabe.

Charlie: Awww..... He does high ponytails! They touch the sky!

Adam smiled: Oh do they? Say uh, Lucifer is it?

Lucifer: Yes.

Adam: Why doesn't her mom take her?

Lucifer: ..... Well, I think it's ill advised to leave children at a cemetery.

Adam thinned his lips, he didn't know the woman was dead. But that meant the cute little Hobbit was single? Good to know.

Adam: Sorry, I didn't-

Lucifer: It's fine don't worry about it. Now you, come here.

He took Charlie from him and she squealed with laughter as he walked towards her bedroom.

Charlie: But I don't wanna go to bed!

Lucifer: And I want to be 5'9 but that's not happening either.

Honestly, only being 5'1, or if he's wearing his good shoes 5'3 is such a fucking scam. He's the shortest fucking Hobbit and he hates it.

Lucifer placed her on her bed: I'll tuck you in in a little bit okay?

Charlie: Will you read to me?

Lucifer smiled: Of course.

He gave her a kiss and handed her a stuffed animal so she could relax. He went back out and sighed.

Lucifer: Okay Al, where would we even start to look?

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