#which was cool to find out back when i was looking all this up the first time and again just now

[lambilegs]

contains: nsft content (minors + ageless blogs dni), modern!au, "daddy" used as a title, reader receiving strap on + fingering from sevika, breeding kink, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, sevika teasing reader for being tight, reader's body is referred to with the terms: "pussy," "clit," "tits," kinda semi-public idk

best friend's older sister!sevika who you need to sneak around with because it's that hard to find a minute alone with her during your friend group's sleepover.

your friends are at your side every minute of the day, all of you sprawled together on the couches through the afternoon, then later helping each other get ready to head to the club. you don't even get a split second to show sevika how you look, for as soon as your outfit is patted in place by your friends, your uber is here and all of you are rushing out.

by the time you all return to your best friend's house, giggling and stumbling through the door, sevika is seated on the couch, typing away on her laptop. as you all pass the living room to head up the stairs, the two of you lock eyes, your stomach twisting and turning with excitement as her eyes scan over your body, her jaw clenching in what you can only hope is desire.

as all of your friends take turns hopping in and out of the shower, you jerk up from where you're lying down on the floor when your phone rings with a notification. the words immediately have your entire body prickling with anticipation, feeling as though the simple sentences have set you aflame.

When it's your turn to shower, text me. I'll meet you in the bathroom.

a painfully, agonizingly long forty minutes later, you carefully push the door open to the bathroom, gulping hard when you find sevika there, already topless and in a pair of basketball shorts. you've seen her in this state before, of course you have, but still, it makes your chest throb in a multitude of ways. both for the eagerness from knowing what's to come, and the domesticity of seeing her like this, casually half-nude and waiting for you in the bathroom. if you let yourself soften the moment with a tinge of daydreaming, you can almost picture how blissful it'd be years from now, doing your skincare routine as she lingers nearby, leaning on the wall and talking to you.

those tender ideas blur away when she faces you, your eyes immediately skipping down to the thick line of hair starting at her stomach and fluttering wider at the centre of her hips. you feel hungry for it, wanting to feel that bush of hair rub against yours as the two of you claw at each other for more touch, more words, more moans. more, more, more. you don't think you'll ever get enough of her.

and just an inch or two lower, and god, there's a bulge.

she leans against the counter, crossing her arms and a subtle smirk. "something caught your eye?"

her voice is low and quiet amidst the blaring fan in the bathroom, the cool touch of which sends goosebumps popping along your sweat-soaked back.

"I should be asking you that," you drawl, sauntering over to her to wrap your arms around her neck. "you're the one who asked me to meet here, remember?"

she wraps her arms around your waist, her rough hand sliding up your top as she pulls your body against the hard planes of hers. the scent of the coconut oil seeping through her hair infuses your nose, and you breathe it in deeply as her nose brushes against yours. "I do remember. but, do you want a verbal answer for that? or can I show you?"

with every article of clothing she peels off you, your skin is met with hot, wet kisses, her tongue lapping the sweat coating it and making your body arch in pleasure. when she tugs your top off, her hands are immediately groping your tits, mouth sucking eagerly on your nipples. she devours your body like a woman starved, soft, pink tongue swiping at the stiffened nubs and making you close your thighs together in sensitivity. it only worsens when she playfully skims the line of her teeth along them, her grey eyes carefully locked on your face, which heats up in response, knowing you must look incredibly glossed over and aroused right now. especially once your noises start joining the mix, a choked out gasp wrenching out of your throat when she takes turn sucking harshly on them, her mouth so rough that your chest keeps pumping out in her direction.

your hand flies to your mouth when a sharp knock is pounded against the door, your name loudly called. "bro, hurry up, I still reek of alcohol."

"s-sorry," you stutter out, nails digging into sevika's shoulders when her large hands cup your ass, fingers digging into the plush of it as she walks backwards in the direction of the shower.

after rubbing your aching pussy and spending a few minutes with two fingers plunging in and out of your hole, she has you cornered in the shower, the steam coating both your bodies in delicious, moist heat. her large chest is lodged right up against yours, her hand kneading at the back of your thigh as she coaxes you to lift one foot up on the ledge. an act with only gets her purple strap hitting even deeper in you, her sharp, measured thrusts making your eyes roll back.

as per usual, she's relentless, keeping you pinned to the wall as her hips snap against yours, creating wet-sounding smacks that only add to your arousal. in the heated, wet cube of the shower, you feel utterly surrounded by her, the two of your bodies intertwining as one as she fucks you hard and fast, the thick length of her drilling into you with such strength that it causes your back to keep sliding up and down the slippery tiles of the wall.

"you'd have thought that I would've loosened you up by now," she mutters against your jaw, her words barely audible from the rain of the shower. "but, no, just as tight as when I first fucked this pussy."

you moan loudly, eyes fluttering shut as your neck arches up. "god-- fuck, sevi--"

she immediately takes the bait in your movements, her teeth sinking into your skin as she sucks a harsh mark, the sting of it making your toes curl.

“you trying to get us caught or something?” she hisses, her tone sharp with discipline. “keep that mouth shut.”

your eyebrows scrunch together in pure, unadulterated pleasure, your pussy tightening when she plasters her prosthetic hand to your face, keeping you quiet as she continues pumping her cock into you. while you can barely tame and hold in your little squeaks and moans, sevika manages to get by, panting heavily as her gaze remains honed in on your face. you can tell all of this is starting to get to her more, her eyes ablaze and unfocused.

"you looked good," she whispers harshly, her nails digging harder into the plush of your thigh. "real good."

you bite your lip from behind the covering of her hand, a wide grin spilling onto your face.

sevika seems to notice it, her gaze shifting over your crinkled eyes, inciting a low chuckle of her own. her hand slides away from your mouth, which is immediately seized by her lips, her hips continue to rut up as her tongue laps softly at yours, wet and messy.

her hand squeezes your thigh one last time before resting on your stomach, pinching it lightly and inciting a soft squeal from you.

"gonna dump so much come in here," she murmurs quietly. "but, that's what you want, right? running in here so eagerly when you realized there’s a chance your cunt’s gonna get loaded. and right in the middle of a sleepover too.”

“daddy,” you gasp against her mouth, your hands reaching behind to dig your nails into her back.

“don’t you worry,” she rasps, the cool metal of her hand sending shivers down your spine as it cups your ass cheek and spreads you out. “I can tell when a slut needs to be taken care of.”

and taken care of is exactly how you feel once she's helping you climb out of the shower, legs wobbly and thighs deliciously achy.

when you two realize that your love-making took a very long, very accidental forty minutes, sevika watches with a bemused smirk as you stumble through the bathroom, rushing to wash your face and get your clothes back on. panic rushing through you, you slowly pinch the bathroom door open, your head snapping from side to side before hissing for sevika to get out, smacking her bare back frantically as you push her in the direction of her bedroom.

she's halfway across the hall when she pauses, her head whipping to the side. your breath catches in your throat, and face tightened into a premature wince, you turn to see someone in your friend group frozen in place, gawking at the two of you.

the three of you watch each other in stunned silence until you finally jolt into action, spluttering over the sight of sevika standing calmly out in the open, her chest bare. a hot fusion of embarrassment and anxiety whirs through you, and it propels you into actions, hands haphazardly scrambling to continue shoving sevika to her bedroom. your efforts double when your idiot girlfriend chooses to chuckle to herself, purposely placing her weight back on you to make your task even more difficult. 

as you two finally stumble through the threshold into her bedroom, you very pointedly ignore your friend’s laugh and victorious mutter of, “at least I get five dollars now."

[ivyues]

Fashion Betrayal: Stray Kids' reactions to finding out their S/O asked their gay BFF for spicy fashion advice

request: [...] I just wanted a reaction of stray kids finding out you ask for your gay bestie advice in sexy clothes (hope it's ok :3)

Bang Chan

Chris paused mid-sip of his water, staring at you like he misheard. “…Your friend?” His brows lifted. “For fashion advice?”

There was a beat of silence. Then a soft chuckle escaped him – half disbelief, half amused. He leaned back, eyes narrowing just a little as he gives you a look.

“Wait, so let me get this straight – you dressed like that, and went to him?” He pointed vaguely at you.

Before you could explain, he launched into a ramble, hands waving. “Not that I have anything against it or—like I’m not saying you can’t or shouldn’t—like I’m not forbidding you or anything—I can do fashion advice too! I’ve styled—I know what looks good on you, I–”

You cut him off with a kiss – quick and deliberate.

He blinked. Mouth finally shut. Slightly flustered.

Then his voice lowered, and he smirked. “…So. You really wanted a second opinion, huh?”

Lee Know

He blinked at you, completely expressionless. “So… you asked someone else what I’d find sexy.”

You shrugged. “Asking another person was the point. I didn’t just want to throw on something that makes my butt look good and call it a day. I wanted more than that. I wanted a full outfit.”

He scoffed, a small smirk tugging at his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His gaze slid over the outfit again, slower this time, but his expression stayed carefully neutral. “…It looks fine. I guess.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Just fine?”

“Yeah. It's okay. Whatever,” he said, shrugging with a little too much casualness. “I’m not gonna be thinking about it when you’re not wearing it later anyway.”

Changbin

He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned against the doorway. “So you put that on… looked in the mirror… and said, ‘You know who needs to see this? My male friend.’”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to smile. “He's my best friend. And he's gay.”

Changbin ran a hand through his hair, chuckling. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m not jealous, okay? I’m not that guy.” He stepped closer, eyes scanning you from head to toe. “I’m not gonna lie, though – you look really good. Like, too good.”

He stopped right in front of you, tilted his head, and dropped his voice a bit more. “But just so you know... the sexiest thing you could wear?” He leaned in. “Is my hoodie... or nothing at all.”

Hyunjin

Hyunjin gasped. “Hold up…You went to him for fashion advice? In that outfit? Do you know who I am?”

He stepped closer, eyes trailing over you with exaggerated offense. “I’m literally a global fashion icon. And you’re out here cheating on me with your gay best friend for styling tips?”

You giggled, trying to speak, but he cut you off with mock betrayal.

“I feel… betrayed. Stabbed. And you wore that dangerously divine outfit before I got to see it? In public? Oh, the betrayal. Wow.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”

He placed a hand over his heart, then grinned. “You owe me, babe. A private fashion show. Just for me. Front row. No best friend allowed.”

Han

“Wait, wait, wait—you went to him... in that outfit... for advice?!” Han's eyes widen so far back you half-expect them to roll right out of his skull.

You blink, slowly, already bracing yourself. “…Yeah? He’s literally gay, babe.”

“Ohhh, so now we’re just out here serving LOOKS to our gay besties like we’re auditioning for a Victoria’s Secret runway—okay cool cool cool.”

You nearly choked on your drink, laughing. “Hannie, it’s not that deep—”

“Not that deep?! If I walked into my gay best friend’s apartment shirtless, asking which gray sweatpants make my butt look best, you’d be SCREAMING.”

Your jaw drops open, more offended by the mental image than the accusation. “...Wait, do you even have a gay best friend?”

He waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna find one and ask him exactly what kind of pants make my butt look snack-level good. See how you like it!”

Felix

“So... just to clarify, you picked the thirstiest outfit you own and went to someone other than your boyfriend for validation?”

You nodded, half-laughing but suddenly aware of how it might’ve looked.

Felix hummed, his tone playful but with a tiny pout forming. “Babe, I trust you, I do. It's just—Was he helpful at least?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like that. You know that,” you say a bit more softly.

He tilted his head, still smiling, but his voice lowered into a teasing murmur. “Alright, alright. But now I’m curious… think he’s got any advice for me?” he winked. “Maybe I could use some expert insight—”

“NONONONO,” you cut in quickly, hands flying up. You knew exactly how pretty your boyfriend was and how easily people fell for him.

Felix bursted out laughing, clearly delighted by your reaction. “Aww, someone’s jealous~”

You crossed your arms. “You're already too pretty. No help needed.”

Seungmin

Seungmin looked up from his phone with a flat expression. “Ah… So that’s why you didn’t look like a potato sack today.”

You gaped. “Wow. Rude.”

He crossed his arms, lips tugging into a teasing smirk. “You went to your best friend for advice, didn’t you?”

You hesitate, then nod slowly. “Okay, yeah… I wanted a second opinion.”

Seungmin let out a dramatic sigh, flopping onto the couch. “I knew it. The moment I saw you, I thought: ‘She doesn’t look like she got dressed with her eyes closed for once.’”

“Hey!” You threw a pillow at him. “Are you seriously jealous right now?”

Seungmin catched the pillow with one hand, grinning. “No. I’m just offended. I exist. I have eyes. And taste.”

I.N

Jeongin stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “Wait. You asked him for advice. In that outfit?”

You raised a brow. “He’s my friend. I wanted feedback.”

He squinted. “Right, right. So you put that on, looked in the mirror, and thought, ‘Hmm, I could ask my boyfriend… but nah, let me show this look to someone else first.’”

You snorted. “I did ask you. You said you were busy!”

His mouth opened like he was going to argue, then paused. “…Too busy to look at you like that? You seriously think I wouldn’t drop everything if I saw that?”

You stepped closer, hands on his chest. “Jeonginnie~ don’t pout.”

“I’m not pouting,” he muttered, clearly pouting. “I just… missed my chance.”

You gave him a teasing smile, tilting your head. “Well, maybe next time you’ll check your messages a little faster, Mr. I’m busy.”

masterlist

[moon-ttokki-x]

hello 😁 i hope u are good 🫶 can i req something pls? 🙏 i saw ur post abt protective skz with their maknae reader but what abt a protective reader? 😏 who is usually shy, but loses her temper when angry: doesn't take hate lightly, makes sure they eat and rest, unafraid of talking back, ready to fight off anyone, glaring at everyone (it would be cute, but it gets scary when she is mad mad), etc. 🤔

hi this is a cool request~ i bet the boys would have a lot of fun with a scary member who's also really cute >< here you go !!

₊✩‧₊˚౨ ot8!skz x protective fem!reader ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

pairing: ot8!skz x protective fem!reader

summary: how skz would be around a protective ninth member <3

genre: idol!au, 9th member!au, mentions of eating and drinking, chan shaking in his boots lmao

a/n: this aesthetic is so cute . . . div by @huraxy

skz masterlist

usually you're super chill

like kind of shy, really; not the type to shout or mess around like the guys do

most of the time, you're by felix or minho's side

because they're the least chaotic members of the group (most of the time anyway)

and it's just nice to be all quiet and observant from behind their shoulders

they know you're kind of shy, but oh man, wait til you get mad

even the maknaes shut up instantly when you raise your voice

bc you mean BUSINESS

doesn't matter how short you are you'll fight anyone within a certain distance

including chan (crazy right?)

who is also scared of your temper, even if it doesn't show up that often

which is why it's so terrifying when your voice booms through the studio or recording room, louder than thunder

everyone just keeps their head down and listens to you

hyung line is secretly so jealous of your commanding aura

after you're done shouting you just kind of go back to your normal shy demeanour, or leave the room

and everyone's just left shaking in their boots like

what the fuck??

you don't get angry often, and it's always for a valid reason, so they get it

stay knows that too; you've told interviewers and tv show hosts and even mnet staff to back off or stop being rude

you can make anyone listen; no one expects the shy little member to have the strongest voice

same with rude 'fans'

they don't always listen but most of them have a very healthy respect for your emotions

you're always making sure skz takes care of themselves too

especially the members who tend to overwork or get distressed easily

you always make sure to chase them up and give them something to eat

or tell them to go and drink water

or you just hold a fistful of their hair firmly (without hurting them) and watch them actually ingest food

they always give you pouty eyes but you never give in

you're just hardcore like that

and you don't let them go until they've swallowed the last mouthful

when you guys go out to eat, you're the person always heaping food on their plates

'eat eat you EAT'

bc i know these mfs forget to nourish themselves properly

so it's nice to have you take care of them

especially the younger ones

they do the same for you too, but they wouldn't dare touch your hair

they're too scared to in fear of messing it up and irritating you

the sassier ones like minho and seungmin are amazed at how much you talk back

like it's insane

chan schedules extra practice? "i don't want to, we already have so much to do"

hyunjin wants to have his vocal lesson before yours? "i scheduled mine earlier so you should have done the same"

you're just an absolute lion

sometimes you have to get told off because you're getting too sassy

but the boys can't help but take it easy on you

you're just so cute

even if you act like a demon from the underworld

oh well

but

even your gaze is scary

the boys often find themselves jumpscared

like they'll walk into a room and you're just sitting there like >:|

like an owl

you know how they have big wide eyes that stare into your soul?

your gaze is like that

felix jokes that you could burn lasers with how intense your stare is

it even looks intense when you're just sitting having a great time

in dead silence

the members don't mind though, whatever makes you happy makes them happy too !!

they get used to your little habits, and they all work around your demeanour

you're all one big happy group <3

a/n: okay maybe i wrote headcanons because i don't have the motivation nor the energy to write a full fic . . . oh well

ttokki's taglist: @emilywhyyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @sillyseob @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps @possum-playground @bear8585 @astraystayyh @m-325 @gnabnahcbby @mbioooo0000 @akindaflora @tsunderelino @hhwangsmoon @crazyforthatbangchandude @bluebellsringinghereandthere @ladylexis @tillaboo @geni-627 @jsngprk-vhs @de-uns-tempos-pra-ca

send a dm, comment under the taglist post, or send an ask to be added !

[kumikuzushi]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

Telemachus x Reader

"Throwing an apple at someone was a gesture of love or courtship — if the person caught or accepted the apple, it meant that the love was reciprocated."

Warning(s) : None really, fluff and reader's is oblivious while Telemachus is just a shy lover boii

: Telemachus best boy! this is my first time writing in 2nd person so I hope yallu enjoy :)))

The streets of Ithaca was a medley of noise as Telemachus roamed around the hall of stalls and people, with a hood concealing his features—it was like a breath of fresh air.

With the weight of the expectations upon him, the hungry growing suitors in the comforts of his home and longing of his father, it was hard describing his cycle as relaxing.

The queen—his mother had suggested for him to wander outside the palace walls, explore the beauty of Ithaca, though with his identity as prince it won't take that long before a commotion would occur hence the suitors.

So the second when the old stall owner commented about his familiarity—he walked off out of the busy area.

Telemachus later finds himself in a quiet grove, the profusion of green leaves serves as a natural roof from the sun's shine—deliberately making the scene cool toned due to cast of shadows with few sunlight poking through the cracks.

The young prince looked around the grove as his footsteps brought him to a large apple tree, "These are probably the reddest apples i've ever seen" He commented inaudibly, a quiet chortle followed.

Telemachus ran his palms through the rough texture of the trunk—as he slowly descended to take a seat on the grass with his back settled on the tree's trunk.

This is nice

He thought as he tried to put his mind at ease, for such a pretty apple tree—he was suprised that no more people had taken the fruits, it was quite silent for—

"Oh no!" A voice interrupted the said silence—before Telemachus could react of the voice, a hard small like object fell above—landing at the Prince's head. "Ow!" Telemachus yelped at the sudden hit as he unwittingly caught the said object on his right hand with his left rubbing his head.

He blinked his eyes open to see what he was holding—to see a red apple. Telemachus then looked up to the tree just to see a hooded figure on a branch high up. "I'm sorry!" You yelled through the branches.

"My apologies there! My basket seemed to have filled up already" You added as Telemachus saw that you started to climb down the tree.

Telemachus saw that you were approaching the ground with such grace, it’s as though descending requires no effort at all—despite that, the swift jumping made the prince worry.

"U-uh it's no worries but hey,, you should be careful climbing down, You could-"

Before he could have finished his statement, you had landed on the last branch which was also just above Telemachus's head to the right.

That's where the prince got a good look at your features, Just like him with a hood trailing down your figure but in this angle he could see your face more clearly.

The person turns out to be a young woman who looks around his age, Your eyes were the first thing he noticed—as if they carried kindness in every glance—Your hair fell around your face in a lovely kind of mess, swaying with every breeze of the wind. Telemachus's gaze lowered just below to catch a glimpse of your lips, and back to your eyes.

You tilted your head to the side, as you blinked at the male. Telemachus blinked back, realizing he'd been staring at you for too long.

"Did it hit your head hard? I'm really sorry about that again" You asked with concern.

"Oh- you mean the apple? I'm alright" Telemachus replied edgy.

"Hmm" The young woman hummed as Telemachus bit the inside of his cheek as an awkward silence followed.

Without a warning you suddenly raised your hand to feel the top of Telemachus's head.

This caused the prince of Ithaca's eyes to widen—taken back by your sudden boldness.

"E-excuse me—? What are you-"

"Your hair is really soft, I don't think a falling apple at such a height would land gently on your head especially with hair as soft as yours" You cut him off.

Telemachus was taken back at your bluntness, a blush spread at his cheeks while you kept unfazed as if you didn't just compliment him twice.

"It's fine really.. What are you even doing up there anyways?" The male asked as your hand slowly left his head while he held out the apple he had caught.

You didn't say anything and stared at the apple and back to Telemachus—instead you revealed a basket filled with rich red apples from your cloth—giving your answer.

He gave a surprise blink.

You started to get down from the branch you were sitting in—jumping down and landing gracefully beside the prince. Upon standing next to him, the height difference was inversed, now the male was towering between you as he looked slightly down at your height—seeing this made you smile cheeky with your eyes closed.

Your smiling image made a subtle flutter in Telemachus heart. "I'm (name)" You introduced with a warm smile. "I saw the apple tree from afar away and I can't help but take some" You said.

"Yeah.. it's quite an apple" Telemachus said awkwardly—rubbing his nape, he took a peek at you and almost instantly regretted it—

Your smile was adorable in the eyes of the prince, the way your words were coated with a gentle voice, your subtle chuckle that filled the place, The young male felt his stomach fill with those classic butterflies—just like the ones described in romance novels or the tales of his parent's love told by his mother.

"Are you from around here?" Your question caused the prince to look at you dumbfounded—thinking you were joking but when he saw the genuine and innocence that followed, he thought of a conclusion.

"Uh- yeah! I am, are you..?" He stuttered.

You let out a chortle, "No I'm not" You answered turning to the side. "Oh.." Telemachus mumbled looking towards your side profile which deliberately caused his blush to hue again.

Now that you mentioned it, you did look outlandish, foreign. There was a subtle difference between the Ithaca women he had met and your features.

"So what brings you here in the forest? uhh I didn't catch your name" You asked

Your question made Telemachus also realize—since you're not from here, you probably don't recognize or know his status. The idea made his lips crack a smile knowing that he was just a stranger to you, someone new and a chance to be himself and not a title derived from his father.

"Telemachus" He introduced.

He was Telemachus at this moment, not the prince of Ithaca or the Son of the legendary Odysseus. He was just Telemachus.

"That's a very pretty name, Telemachus"

The way you said it—slow, deliberate—made him pause.

No one had ever said his name like that before. It didn’t sound like a title, or a legacy, or a burden. Just... his name.

He glanced at you, a faint smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “You say it like it means something good.” He laughs.

"Your name means far and battle, sounds pretty impressive, don't you think?" You commented, turning your heel towards the male, leaning dangerously close to his presence.

You glanced down at the apple he was holding since earlier, plastered in his palm without a single scratch. An unreadable grin formed your lips as your gaze went to his own. "You caught it" You said.

Telemachus looked where you were referring to and saw you were talking about the apple in his hand. "Oh yeah! Do you want it back?" He asked naively.

You leaned back to your feet as you gave him a look with a closed mouth, this made telemachus tilt his head—confused at your lack of reply and silence. Exchanging looks at the apple and back to what you just said.

It took some time and a few chuckles from you and slowly Telemachus started to get the hint.

"Oh- yeah! I didn't mean to- not that I...!"

"Well, to be fair, I didn't technically throw it either" You cut him off, turning away from the prince at a slow pace with your hands holding the basket behind your back.

"The fruits in Ithaca taste so much fresher—are there other fruit trees around here too?” You changed the subject but your smile from the previous topic didn't change. "Huh?" The prince stuttered quite dazed from the change of topic.

You only chuckled with your lips closed, your eyes turned away from Telemachus to watch the passing wind blow away and it seemed that the wind god guided your eyes—as you caught a glimpse of another fruit tree in the distance.

The scene immediately lit up your eyes with excitement as you shot your gaze back to the prince who tried to follow what you were looking at.

"It looks like a.. peach tree? no, I think it's a cherry-" He tried to take a guess but was interrupted, "Who cares! Come on!" Your voice bolted with excitement.

Without another second, you took Telemachus’s hand and took off running—dragging the unprepared boy along at your pace. You laughed when he nearly stumbled, fumbling over his words as he questioned what was happening. You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you glanced back at him with a playful, one-eyed smile.

“Don’t worry about it! Just follow me! I’ll even teach you how to climb a tree!” you called out cheerfully.

"W-what!? I know how to climb a tree!"

"How about getting down from the tree!" Your reply made him shut his mouth—almost pouting, which made you laugh louder.

You turned your attention forward just as the wind swept through, pulling your hood from your head. Your hair spilled free, a few strands dancing with the breeze. Laughter lingered on your lips—warm and easy, like sunlight streaming through the trees.

Behind you, Telemachus muttered something under his breath, half to himself, questioning how he’d ended up in this situation: being pulled along by a girl he’d only just met, her smile the warmest thing he’d seen all day, dragging him off to pick fruit.

And yet, despite it all, his hand stayed in yours—tight, steady, maybe even a little reluctant to let go.

This wasn’t how he thought his day would go.

But he wasn’t complaining.

When you finally slowed down, your breath was heavy but your grin never left your lips, you led him beneath a tall tree with branches thick and sprawling.

"The peach tree is there" Telemachus said looking at the said tree is, "I told you that I'll teach you how to climb a tree did I? Peach trees are too fragile for climbing" You said letting go of his hand to go closer to the tall tree—the sudden absence of your touch made him turn his head back to you. "Besides there's an even cooler thing waiting above this tree" you added before dropping down your basket of apples on the grass.

"Better than a basket full of peaches?" Telemachus laughs at his own joke.

"Hmm.... Maybe? You decide" You said in an elusive tone, at that—you started to climb the tree in ease, reaching the first branch and taking a seat on it, "Come on!" You encourage the lean boy with a smile.

Telemachus looked up to check the height of the tree and deliberately gulped but then landed his eyes on your waiting figure—your feet swinging off the branch, signaling the boy to follow with your hands. Who was he to deny an invite from such a girl?

Letting out a sigh as he hesitantly started climbing. "Don't let the fear get to you!" You yelled as you saw him hesitant.

When later you saw that he was getting the hang of it, you smiled at him like a proud mother before also continuing climbing high up—checking up from time to time at Telemachus.

The tree's branches were strong and sturdy enough to console Telemachus from worrying too much—with addition of your words of encouragement.

"Come on! Come on!"

"It will be worth it! I promise!"

"Careful there!"

"Watch out for thorns or sharp parts kay?"

It seems though that the prince didn't really take your last comment deeply because he was more focused on catching up to you—so when he grabbed another branch to lift himself up, he felt a sharp part that really pierced. "Ah!" He yelled as he dragged his hand but that just made him scratch his palm into the sharp part more.

The sudden addition of pain made him react defiantly as he let go—shutting his eyes, expecting what was next...

But then a hand grabbed his wrist swiftly—catching the prince just in time, he opened his eyes to see you—worry tinted your iris but quickly faded away when you came into contact with his eyes. "Got you!" You called out

Telemachus cracked a smile but was also embarrassed cause he almost fell to his death.

You helped him up towards the branch you were in, taking the hand that was affected in both of your hands. "You're hurt" you stated as you gently exclaimed the open wound.

"Yeah.. but not really it's just a scratch-"

"You're still hurt" You cut him off, placing his hand at your lap and digging in your cape for something. "It doesn't hurt that much" He said, you should see the state he would be whenever the suitors pick up a fight on him

"Wounds are tended not ignored" You stated as you brought out a roll of bandage.

"That isn't really necessary, I can just-"

"I refuse, I don't want it to get an infection" You fought back leaning closer for dominance which made the male back up slightly—blushing.

"I-its fine-"

“Please let me, Telemachus,” you said, your voice laced with worry.

Telemachus blinked, his eyes widening as he studied your face—the way your brows curved with concern, the subtle pout pulling at your lips. Your grip on his hand had tightened, firm but quiet, yet still warm and gentle.

The way you spoke his name—slow, almost fragile, as if it might shatter—caught in his chest.

Neither of you noticed just how close you two were at this moment.

At the end he lets you, each movement and touch was gentle, careful and sincere. He couldn't help but admire you while you wrap the bandage around his wound.

"There" You conclude.

"Thanks.." He murmured meekly.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you looked up at the tree, "a few more branches before we see it" you said.

"I understand if you don't want to risk going higher" You said with a soft-eyed smile. Telemachus can see you were disappointed about not showing him 'it' but yet you didn't show it through your words—more concerned for his safety and opinion.

"No, I want to" He confessed. This time your eyes widen slightly, "A-are you sure? I wouldn't want you to-"

"It was just a scratch silly, and besides I'm curious what's this 'it' that got your eyes sparkling" He said with a breathy laugh.

This time you were the one taken back but your lips quickly turned back into a smile upon hearing his response. "Okay..but this time stay close to me" You said handing your hand to the young boy, he was shy at first—attempting to minimize the growing blush on his cheeks, it didn't take long before he planted his hands to yours.

The two of you climbed slowly towards the top of the tree, the higher you both go up—the more you look out of the distance. Telemachus took notice of this and followed your eye's direction.

As you both climbed higher, the leaves began to thin, letting more of the sky slip through the gaps like a slowly unfolding curtain. The orange hue of the sky deepened into a golden glow, streaked with soft strokes of pink. Wispy-shaped clouds floated gently across the scene, like brushstrokes left unfinished. The sun hovered low—glowing like an ember on the edge of the earth—casting long, dappled shadows through the branches.

“Just in time for the sunset!” you squealed, your voice light with excitement. At last, the two of you reached the highest branch.

Telemachus, still mesmerized by the view—and maybe a little by you—paused beside you. His eyes didn’t know where to rest: on the sky that looked like it had been set on fire, or on the way the light danced in your eyes.

He sat down beside you, slower this time, as if he didn’t want to disturb the stillness. He looked back at the sky, the view of Ithaca below—the wind blowing as the leaves flowed together. This was much better than his view from his balcony.

The smell of sweet fruits and nature linger in the wind and the ocean waves from the corner of his eye. The scene felt like a dream—it was beautiful.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You said as if you read his thoughts. Telemachus was able to take his eyes off the scene to look at you. "It's worth the climb" You said with a warm smile—leaning on your palms as you close your eyes at ease.

Telemachus fell quiet, his gaze lingered on you longer than the sky infront of him, The sunset was breathtaking, but there was something about the way you smiled—calm and content, like you belonged with the wind, somewhere that made the moment feel more special. He remained silent beside you as he continued to admire your presence.

You opened one eye open to see him looking at you, caught somewhere between awe and thought, his lips was parted close—this time it was your turn to study his eyes.

His eyes held a warm color—caught between the sea and earth, deep brown but with the hints of the sunset, they shimmered like gold and amber. They were steady, curious and full of quiet longing, his soft gaze was something that made your heart still.

The two of you stared at each other's inner souls for awhile before the both of you realized it. Turning back in each other's opposite direction—both you and Telemachus held pink blushes however the male kissed his lips quite embarrassed while you held out your laughter.

The two of you stayed like this for awhile, watching the sky's hue fade as you both exchanged conversation, every second of getting to know each other bounded a stronger chemistry between you two. That day Telemachus felt at peace maybe it was because he was away from his problems or because of you who introduced peace to him.

Thank you for reading everyone! Interactions are greatly appreciated! I'm really proud of this one so I hope it was decently enjoyable:'0 Live Laugh Love Telemarketing <3

~kikoyu

[paucubarsisimp]

heyyyyy❤️.

I love your imagines . Can I request a Lamine imagine where you guys are dating and you go to Coachella together and have a good time with the other Barca Boys and y’all are just lovey dovey 🤍.

Thank You

coachella

pairing: lamine yamal x reader

summary: in which you go to coachella with lamine and his friends

warnings: pda - a LOT of pda

you never thought you’d find yourself at coachella with five of barça’s brightest stars—and definitely not with one of them as your boyfriend. but here you were: sun on your skin, glitter in your hair, and lamine’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist like he never wanted to let go.

the moment you stepped onto the festival grounds, it felt like something out of a movie. giant art sculptures towered over you, music pulsed from every direction, and the air smelled like sunscreen, dust, and something sweet you couldn’t quite place. you could barely take two steps without someone snapping a picture of the boys—though they tried to stay lowkey in hats and sunglasses, it was very hard to hide five gorgeous footballers.

lamine leaned in close. “wanna disappear from everyone for a bit?”

you smiled up at him, heart fluttering at how soft his voice got just for you. “only if you hold my hand the whole time.”

he grinned, that boyish sparkle in his eyes, and laced his fingers with yours.

you snuck off behind one of the main tents for a little quiet, only to be interrupted by pau calling out, “lamine! stop sneaking off for kisses, we see you!”

you giggled and tried to hide your face in lamine’s shoulder, but he didn’t care. he pulled you right in for a kiss anyway—slow and sweet, like the world around you had faded to silence. he rested his forehead against yours after. “they’re just jealous.”

“obviously,” you whispered, making him laugh.

back with the group, fermín had laid out a blanket near the ferris wheel and was attempting to build the world’s most chaotic picnic with random snacks from the vip lounge. “this is dinner,” he declared proudly, holding up a box of churros and an avocado.

pablo rolled his eyes. “that’s a crime against food.”

“i don’t see you doing anything,” fermín shot back.

meanwhile, héctor was on a mission to document every moment—camera in hand, climbing onto things he probably shouldn’t be climbing on for the perfect angles. he caught a candid of you and lamine dancing, and when he showed it to you later, you barely recognized yourself. you looked…happy. glowing. like the main character in a sun-drenched romance movie.

and lamine—he looked at you like he already knew that.

throughout the day, the two of you were basically attached at the hip. he kept stealing kisses when no one was looking—though honestly, sometimes when everyone was looking, too. at one point, he just straight-up pulled you into his lap during a set while pau complained, “can we go five minutes without pda?”

“no,” lamine said simply, and kissed your temple.

you ended up buying matching heart-shaped sunglasses, dancing together barefoot in the sand near one of the smaller stages, and slow-dancing to an acoustic set while the sun dipped low. the boys teased you both mercilessly, but not even pablo’s dramatic gagging noises could ruin the way lamine looked at you under the orange-pink sky.

later that night, when everything had cooled down and the desert air turned chilly, you all curled up on the big blanket again. fermín passed around hoodies (pablo grumbled about lending his to pau, but still did it), and lamine tucked you into his side, your legs tangled with his under the blanket.

“i know this sounds cheesy,” he said softly into your hair, “but this is kind of perfect.”

you tilted your head to look at him. “only kind of?”

“okay, really perfect.” he smiled, and in that moment, the lights of the ferris wheel reflecting in his eyes, he looked like everything good in the world.

you rested your head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat mingling with the distant thrum of music and the quiet laughter of your friends. his hand found yours again under the blanket, fingers intertwined.

“i love you, you know?” he said, voice almost a whisper.

you smiled against him, heart full. “i know. i love you more.”

“impossible,” he whispered back.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, lmk if you want to be added!

[pixiexdusts-world]

Quiet & chaos

Civil war Bucky Barnes x girlfriend!reader

Summary: Bucky’s quiet, his girlfriend’s not. She teases; he listens.

Word count: 805

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

I never thought I’d date a guy like Bucky Barnes. Not because he’s an ex-assassin or a super soldier or because half the world wants him dead—those are just technicalities. It’s because he’s quiet. Like, really quiet.

And I? I’m not.

“You’re brooding again,” I announce, flopping onto the motel bed next to him. “Which means I have to annoy you out of it. So, let’s start with a classic: If you had to fight one Steve-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized Steves, which would you pick?”

Bucky blinks at me, expression unreadable. “Why?”

“Because I asked.”

He exhales through his nose—his version of an amused huff—and looks back down at the knife he’s been sharpening for the last ten minutes. “One big duck,” he mutters.

I gasp dramatically. “Wrong answer. Have you seen how aggressive geese are? Now imagine a duck with super soldier strength.”

“I’ve fought worse.”

“Not the point.”

His lips twitch, and aha! there it is—the ghost of a smile. It’s fleeting, but I’ll take it.

Bucky’s not much of a talker, but that’s okay. I talk enough for both of us. When I first met him, I assumed he was grumpy and brooding all the time, but really, he’s just… shy. He never knows what to do with all the words I throw at him. Sometimes I think he just lets me ramble because it’s easier than stopping me.

I roll onto my stomach, chin propped in my hands. “Okay, next question—”

“I didn’t agree to another question.”

“—if you could live in any fictional world, where would it be?”

He hesitates, turning the knife over in his hands. “Dunno.”

“Come on.”

He sighs, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. “Somewhere quiet.”

I groan. “That’s so vague! That’s not how this game works, Buck.”

He shrugs. That’s it. Just a shrug.

I narrow my eyes. “Fine. I’ll answer for you. You’d want to live in the Shire because it’s peaceful, and you could just sit under a tree with a book while I steal all the good food from the hobbits.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then mutters, “Sounds nice.”

I gasp again, clutching my chest. “A real answer! I’m so proud of you.”

He rolls his eyes, but I see the corner of his mouth twitch again.

I flop onto my back, staring at the cracked ceiling. “So, hypothetically, if I went missing, would you come find me, or would you just assume I got distracted by something shiny and wandered off?”

Bucky stiffens. His grip tightens on the knife, and when he looks at me, his expression is unreadable again—but not in the funny way from before.

“Don’t joke about that,” he says quietly.

Oh.

I sit up, my usual playfulness fading. “Bucky, I didn’t mean—”

“I would find you.” His voice is firm now, serious in a way that makes my stomach flip. “Doesn’t matter where. I’d find you.”

I reach for his metal hand, running my fingers over the cool plates. He tenses for a second before relaxing, letting me trace the seams.

“I know,” I say softly. And I do.

Bucky Barnes might be quiet, might keep most of his thoughts locked up in that head of his, but when he cares about someone, he really cares. I see it in the way he always walks on the outside of the sidewalk, keeping me closest to the buildings. In the way he lets me steal half his food even though he pretends to be annoyed. In the way he never says much, but when he does speak, it’s always something that matters.

I squeeze his hand. “For the record, I’d find you, too.”

He looks down at our hands, then back at me. “Yeah?”

“Of course. Though you’d probably make it easier than me by leaving a trail of brooding and emotionally loaded sighs.”

That gets an actual huff out of him. Progress.

I grin and lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before standing up. “Alright, I’m starving. I vote we find food before you get sick of me and dump me in a ditch somewhere.”

His brow furrows, lips parting like he’s about to say something. Then he shakes his head, standing up to grab his jacket.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he mutters.

I laugh. “I know, Buck. That’s what makes it funny.”

He just grunts, but when I loop my arm through his, he doesn’t pull away.

Bucky might not say much, but I hear him loud and clear.

[cozycryptidcorner]

Part 2, NSFW

I do not like reading my old work, so you will be going in blind.

You yawn, mouth agape and shaking as your body takes in as much air as it can.

There’s  a dewy scent in the air, a thick layer of mist churning outside of your  cabin, swallowing the grass like an amorphous beast. As you sit up,  rubbing your eyes, you take a habitual glance at Sky, who, for all  intents and purposes, successfully pretends to be asleep. For the first  couple of days, you allowed him to relax through dawn to help his  recovery, but with most of his wounds healing and no sign of infection,  you make sure he’s up and at ’em the moment you are.

Carefully, you reach over and aggressively flick the tip of his ear.

He shifts but doesn’t open his eyes.

Letting  out a huff of air, you repeat the motion, leaning on his shoulder for a  better vantage point. He sleeps facing the wall, arms tucked beneath  his chin, hair in a tangled mess beneath his pillow, very careful not to  accidentally poke at your body during the night. And you appreciate  that, mostly, though with the chillier nights, you find yourself  pressing the arch of your spine into his back. He’s like a heating pad,  warm beneath the covers, and you sometimes let yourself think about how  you’d rather he close his arms around your body.

“Hey,” you demand  his attention, knowing full well he’s just faking a deep slumber in the  hopes to be disregarded for the morning, “come. You need to go fetch  water.”

His eyes squeeze tighter.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” you say, lifting your leg up and draping it over his hip, so you have more reach. “Wake up.”

You flick his ear again, and his nose scrunches up in response.

“Stop faking,” you nag, tapping your index finger on his forehead.

After a few more minutes of what you’re certain is infernal demands, he shifts. Unfortunately, that knocks the  single-leg you’ve placed all your weight on off its careful equilibrium,  and you wobble forward. Without thinking about it, you place a hand on  the pillow, lurching just forward enough to be… a hair’s width away from  his mouth. His mouth, near your mouth. And he’s wide awake, startlingly  bright eyes open.

It takes only a moment of asinine blinking for  you to realize what just happened, and now you’re backpedaling, mumbling  apologies, face hot and burning with embarrassment. Without turning  around to look at him, you throw a shawl over your shoulders and march  outside, opening the door for Kip to follow.

The sun hits your  face like a gentle caress, spring already bleeding into summer. A breeze  still carries the night air from the crevices and cracks of the earth,  washing a cool flood of air over the fields. As you walk over to the  chicken coop, you try to bite down your cheeks and urge some  inappropriate thoughts out of your mind.

You don’t know why you  feel so embarrassed. The closeness? The feeling of his skin on yours? An  accident. It was all an accident, and you didn’t mean to do it. At all.  Why did you even apologize? If anything, he should be the one who at  least gestures some apologies; it’s his fault for knocking you off  balance. There’s an unfamiliar tightness in your stomach, one that  whispers about something inevitable coming.

Speck, Dodo, and  Priscilla all cackle with impatience as you scoop out their feed  absentmindedly, still picturing how near his mouth hovered near yours.  Why are you even overthinking this? There’s nothing to ponder further  about. This is fine. You’re okay.

As you continue with the  morning’s chores, you come to the conclusion that this is all just a  culmination of being trapped in your tiny cabin with another person.  Awkward things are always bound to happen, no matter who you share a bed  with. Inevitable, even, which is why the nuns see this strange  agreement unseemly. Careless slipups and accidents. In fact, he probably  doesn’t even remember the incident.

When you start breakfast, you notice the skin around his eyes is as red as his hair.

No matter, no matter. He’s probably worried about something else, or maybe he… got too much sun from getting water.

You  yawn, slicing yesterday’s loaf for toast. Unfortunately, there is a  problem with privacy. Usually, when you felt this weird tightness in  your stomach, you would hide beneath your covers and touch that place  between your legs until your muscles spasmed and relief came. Now… you  can’t. Or you suppose that you could, technically, but something about  the action is remarkably private.

You wonder if he does the same.  You already grasp the difference between the sexes and know that he  carries something distinctive, but surely the urge still resides beneath  his skin. Does he think about you wh-

A hot, pinching pain  scratches down your finger, and you just barely stop the knife before  you sink the blade before it hits bone. Keeping yourself from crying  out, you pull the knife from the skin and place it to the side, watching  the blood ooze out almost in shock.

He’s by your side, holding your finger in his hand, eyes glazed over with concern. Throat dry, you try to explain that you’re fine, that everything is fine, but the sharp stinging of the wound makes your chest freeze. You’re  afraid anything that comes out of your mouth will be a pathetic whimper,  so you say nothing.

Careful, he brings your hand up to his face,  taking the injury into his mouth before you have a chance to react. You  can feel his tongue brush against the wound, eyes almost hooded, looking  at you for some kind of direction. You offer none, face becoming hot as  he licks your blood away. Despite the quickly fading pain, something in  your stomach jumps when he looks up at you, finger in his mouth.

He  opens his mouth, pulling your hand away from his face when you don’t  move. A trail of spit attached itself to your fingernail, another twist  plaguing your chest and stomach. You barely notice the fact the cut has  healed, nary a mark left in your flesh.

“Thanks,” you croak out, forgetting the dangers of thanking his kind so blatantly.

His  own face has taken to look like his hair, red blooming in his cheeks,  eyes downcast. He nods once, then takes a step back to the table.

As  difficult as it is to continue on normal, you force yourself to  continue preparing breakfast. What would you do otherwise? Ask him to  suck on your fingers again? Absolutely not, finish cutting the bread and  act like nothing happened. It’s probably normal, if he healed you by  doing it, he’s probably done it before to other people.

You dance  around the topic, trying to strategize when a good time would be to bury  your fingers between your thighs and regain some fucking peace.

“Can  you walk to the neighbor’s to deliver some of these potatoes?” You ask,  gesturing to the small basket to the side. You are ready to risk him  being seen by others if only you can guarantee an hour or so on your  own. “You don’t have to, though, if you don’t wish to.”

He looks at the basket, then pops an eyebrow up.

“What-  oh,” you remembered that he doesn’t know the directions. “Right. I  suppose I can walk with you this time so you know the way. If that’s  alright with you.”

He nods, once, face a puzzling shade of pink.  His eyebrows scrunch up, lips pursed as though trying to figure  something out. You are acting somewhat awkward, you suppose he must  wonder what you’re up to. Fuck.

Making sure Kip knows to stay and  watch the house, you leave. Sometimes you chatter when you work, Sky is  an avid listener if nothing else. Sky will nod his head and shrug his  shoulders in response to your one-sided conversations, but today you  focus only on survival. Put one foot in front of the other, walk, walk,  walk, and hopefully, your body will forget about the fucking broiling  need in your lower stomach.

Focus, you think, looking up at  the cloudy sky. Smell the dewy humidity in the air, note every single  color your eyes can see in the landscape. Categorize everything, make a  mental list, and for God’s sake, stop thinking about the last time you  saw him naked. You bury your face in your hands, pinching the bridge of  your nose, moving your feet without bothering to look where you go.

Sky saves you from stumbling into a fallen tree, grasping your arm just as your foot hooks beneath a heavy branch.

“Oh,” you say numbly, brushing your skirt off when you pull yourself away.

He frowns, but you don’t try to justify the near-miss.

Your  neighbors know about him as a concept, though they’ve never met him  before. Part of the decision was for his protection, you make sure to  pull his hair over his ears just before you see their cabin. Given fear  of the fair folk, no one will outwardly try to harm him, but the stigma  could grow out of your control if you don’t take steps to protect him.  Suppose this will be a test.

He’s remarkably beautiful, that’s for  certain. Your neighbors, an elderly couple who can’t tend to their  garden as they used to, could not stop fawning over him and his  waist-length red hair. The two of you get invited for tea, the old women  enjoying the company. You pull weeds from the garden while Sky eats one  of the honeycakes they set out, nodding and shaking his head to a  barrage of questions.

Your eyes meet his, fingernails caked in  dirt, sweat soaking through the back of your dress. You look away  quickly, face heating up. The old women chuckle to themselves, which  only makes you more self-conscious about your existence.

When you  walk back, you hold your arms tightly around your chest and try to shoot  through the landscape again. The fields are looking rather yellow  today, Autumn is making a headway through the countryside.

Sky stops you once you almost impale yourself on the same exact tree again.

He looks befuddled, hand still on your arm. His lips purse, slowly, eyes looking over your appearance in search of something, and the sudden attention causes your face to grow hot. You’re suddenly  very uncomfortable, not because he’s scaring you, but because everything  is becoming too heated for you to handle.

Not quickly, as though  you are a startled deer, he pulls your hand forward, up to his chest,  and presses your palm up against where his heart might be.

“What are you doing?” You ask, feeling uneasy.

He  shakes his head, pressing both his hands over yours. His fingers are  long and slender, just as freckled and delicate as the rest of his body.  Through the stiff clothing, you can feel his pulse bump slowly through  his ribcage. The fervor in his eyes tell you he’s desperately trying to  communicate something, but you don’t know what. The easiest answer- impossible.

Sky  is lithe and graceful, beauty incarnate, always so far away from your  grasp that you don’t allow yourself to think about what might happen if  you asked him to relieve you of this tight, thickening coil in your  stomach. You’ve awoken from dreams where his fingers are touching you in  all the right places, body alit with a roaring fire, embarrassment  tightening your face.

But he’s moving forward, slowly, as though  giving you time to run if you want. You could break away from him,  leave, run and hide beneath your covers and never face him again. If you  want, but you don’t.

His mouth is just as soft as you imagined,  lips moving with gentle need, his hands awkwardly held away from his and  your body, as though he doesn’t know what to do with them. The kiss is  remarkably quick, not a simple peck, but still something that leaves a  fire of desire roaring in your lungs and throat.

“Oh,” you say, unsure of how one might properly react to being kissed.

Sky  blinks, long lashes sweeping down his cheeks, and his nose twitches.  You realize that he might have misread the subtext of your oh, because it wasn’t a bad oh, it was a thoughtful one. You bring your hand up to trace the side  of his face, trying to think of what someone with a little more kissing  experience might react.

“Thank you,” you say softly, wishing to throw yourself off the nearest cliff. Thank you? Thank you. What an absolutely stupid response.

There’s a pause, his eyes shifting from your face to his hands, which are twisting and picking at each other.

You  grasp the front of his shirt, and moving carefully so you don’t make a  fool of yourself, you kiss him. His body relaxes beneath your touch, you  didn’t realize he was so tense until you feel his muscles when you  press into him.

He threads his fingers through your skirts,  pulling you closer, breaking the kiss off. And he smiles, soft, gentle,  pressing his forehead against yours. The moment lingers, sun and stars  standing still for you and Sky’s own private eternity. He takes your  hands again, pressing them to his heart, and intensity in his eyes so  desperate you know what he wants to tell you.

You share a few more chaste kisses before remembering you have to start dinner.

This  thing with Sky- this is new to you. Men and women have looked at you  before, yes, but the desire was few and far inbetween. Something about  his consistent presence changed your feelings, the need for him to touch  you barely familiar to any other relationship you’ve had.

He  kisses your neck when you cut the vegetables, soft, gentle kisses that  rake you over hot coals. You want to melt into a puddle even before you  finish putting the soup on the fire, and even though he helps with the  cleaning, he still does it in a way- you can’t even formulate the words.

Once  dinner is cooking and the kitchen is tidied, you cross your arms and  try to find another thing to do. More cleaning? Maybe. There’s an odd  finality to your actions, you don’t know what to do with yourself  anymore.

Sky seems amused by your hesitation.

Carefully,  tenderly, touches light enough for you to shy away from if you need to,  he takes your hand, then pulls you over towards your bed. Your face  heats up, knowing what he asks, trying to find the words to respond.  Fingers threaded together, mouth pressing against your cheek, all you  can think to say is a whimpering, “please.”

Kip paws at the door, insistent to be let in. You ignore her.

He  sits against the bed, pulling you on top of him, your legs straddling  his waist as though riding a horse bareback. Again, you kiss, pressing  your mouth down against his now that you have the upper hand. Your  skirts tangle and press into your skin, a thick desperation now even  more unbearable. Sky takes a break from the kissing to undo the lace of  your bodice, pulling and tugging the string free.

Any  embarrassment you might feel from your bare body fades when he kisses  and nips at your breast. You suck in your breath, arching your back into  him, wishing with no words for him to continue.

He hikes your  skirts up around your waist, the layers of fabric bunching up. Already,  there’s a hint of hardness in his pants, one that you know you want.  That you need. You’ve seen animals fuck plenty, so you know the bare  mechanics of the deed. Know from the hushed talk of wives how good it  can feel.

Sky balances his actions between tender and brutal. His  fingers are tight enough around your undergarments that you feel his  pulse through the fabric and skin. His tongue snakes out and licks a  mark he sucked into your chest. The male is everywhere at once, and  unleashed tempest, mouth clacking against your lips in a desperate, hazy  kiss. Worship, you think, is the right word for what he does to you.  Blasphemous, maybe, but accurate.

He moans when you nip at his  ear, your breath warm against his skin. Keens when you mimic his more  experienced actions on his own body, gasping when you nip lightly  instead of kiss. You feel his own need straining his thrifted pants,  throbbing and delectable against your core. Already, you pull away, just  to tug your garments off. Sky helps, eagerly, fingers pulling at straps  and laces.

You’ve seen him completely naked, vulnerable, eyes  glazed over with a pain that silences him even to this day. A kind of  naked where he was bare to the elements, left for dead, so you do not  mind him seeing you. In fact, you want him to look at you like he  does now, hungry, eyes dark, but with a kind of soft adoration that  brings your pulse up to a loud staccato.

He reaches over, you  guide his hand up to a bare breast, his palm pressed into a prominent  nipple. You straddle him once more, and the way he looks at you- the way  he touches you- like you are a relic, a holy thing, something to  revere. His breath comes out almost in a wheeze, the most noise he has  ever made with his voice, face blossoming with red, fingers hot and  desperate.

You claw at his shirt, face burning with something  other than embarrassment. He helps, though the both of you give up on  the pants after you manage to get his cock out.

Cock. Funny word, one that you’ve only said in joking circumstances.

But  as you straddle him again, on your knees so he can guide you down, you  don’t think you can ever think of it again without this memory swimming  behind your eyes.

He’s gentle, at first. Guides you down so you  sit atop him, having you move slow so you are used to his girth. And, to  be fair to your body, you have done some unsavory things with the  handle of a stirring spoon before, so this isn’t your first...  penetration. But it’s been awhile, and he is attentive to the need for  adjustment.

You sink down, all the way, feeling your arousal pool  against his pelvis, all around his throbbing erection. Embarrassed,  trying to ground yourself, you bury your face in the crook of his neck  and shudder, tendrils of pleasure running down your spine and through  the rest of your body like a lightning strike. And when he moves?

God  in heaven. Lucifer in hell. You let out a pathetic whimper, still  clinging to him like a drowning sailor clings to wreckage. Desperate,  clawing, ready to weather the storm on the horizon. He wraps his hands  around your waist and gently shifts, forwards, backwards, as though  testing how well you take it.

“More,” you beg, eyes blurry.

Sky  obeys, thrusting now, gently, gradually. The tension in your stomach is  slow to build, but he is a creature of eternal patience. He meets your  needs with ease, rocking back and forth, holding you close as he can  without crushing the air from your lungs. The noises he makes are gutteral, animalistic, deliciously desperate. He gazes at you, eyes pleading, mouth moving.

You  lose yourself, finding this to be so much easier than you thought. You  suppose you didn’t think that a roll in the bed would be this simple;  two people, needy, yearning, falling into each other as naturally as  breathing.

He rubs the nub just in front of your slit, finding it without much direction, and you are lost.

You feel him follow suit, a thick, hot sensation filling your body.

Even  after, he holds you close, wetting a rag and helping you clean up the  mess of love. Everything is tender, sore, and he kneels between your  legs to wipe away his pale mess.

Dinner is ready. You let Kip in and serve the soup in wooden bowls.

this is a draft i found from 2021. it used to be on patreon? there’s a second part somewhere, anyways enjoy.

Sky the Fae/Reader

You find him naked, laying on the dew-wet grass.

The sheep are what alert you to his presence, some uttering nervous whines as you and your dog bring them down from the mountain. Kip manages to control the woolly formation while you investigate, knowing full well that it could be something as mundane as an old wine bottle shining strangely in the sunlight. But no, it’s something… far more curious than that.

Keep reading

[freyasturni]

bf!matt x fem!reader

in which :: you wake up sick and matt takes care of you <3

classification: fluff.

warnings: mentions/implications of throwing up.

You woke with a throbbing headache and a stomach that felt like it was tied in anxious knots. Nausea crept up your throat like a wave you couldn’t fight, and your whole body felt weak and clammy. You whimpered quietly, curling in on yourself as your hand clutched your aching belly.

Beside you, Matt slept peacefully, his face soft and serene, lashes brushing against his flushed cheeks, lips parted in the tiniest breath. He looked like a painting—so peaceful, so warm. You hated to disturb him. But… the alternative might be him waking up to a very gross surprise.

You reached out and nudged him gently, your voice hoarse. “Matt…?”

He stirred, one arm instinctively finding your waist like it always did, his voice muffled with sleep. “Mm… yeah, baby?”

You sat up slowly, wincing. “I… I feel really sick. My stomach— I think I might throw up.”

That snapped him fully awake. In an instant, he was sitting up with you, all traces of sleep wiped clean from his face, replaced with soft-eyed concern. “Oh, sweetheart…” he whispered, already moving. “Come on, let’s get you to the bathroom, okay?”

He helped you up carefully, one hand warm against your lower back and the other gently holding your hand. You barely had to walk—he half-carried you, murmuring quiet reassurances with every step: “It’s alright, I’ve got you. I’m here. Just breathe.”

He eased you down beside the toilet and knelt next to you without hesitation. His hand moved to your back, rubbing slow circles with soothing pressure, and when you leaned forward, he was right there, sweeping your hair away with such gentleness it made your heart ache even through the nausea.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Just let it out, I’m right here.”

When it passed, he wiped your face gently with a cool cloth, like you were made of porcelain. He poured you a glass of water and offered it to you in both hands like it was something sacred. Then, without letting go of your hand for a second, he led you back to bed.

He tucked you in with the utmost care, like you were a fragile little burrito, even adjusting the blanket around your feet. Then he cuddled up beside you again, letting your head rest against his chest where his heartbeat thudded steadily beneath your cheek.

“Feeling a little better now?” he asked, voice soft, fingertips brushing your hair back with the gentlest touch.

You nodded, eyes fluttering closed. He placed his palm against your forehead and frowned. “Mm. You’ve got a fever.”

You whined softly as he began to get up. “Where’re you going…?”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Just grabbing you some Tylenol, angel. I’ll be right back.”

Five minutes later, he returned like a soft knight with his arms full of care: a small cup of flat Pepsi, two Tylenol pills, and a cool washcloth.

“Here,” he said quietly, offering you the meds. “Pepsi’s flat. It helps settle your tummy.”

You blinked at him. “How do you know that?”

He smiled, brushing your hair behind your ear. “My mum used to do it for me when I was little. Magic cure.”

You took the medicine and let him hold the cup to your lips like you were royalty. Once you were settled again, he curled up beside you, let you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and draped an arm around you protectively.

“Rest, my love,” he whispered, stroking your back. “I’ve got you. Tell me if you feel like you're gonna vomit again. No throwing up alone, okay? That’s illegal now.”

You gave a weak laugh, already drifting into sleep against his chest. And just before you slipped away, you felt him press one last kiss into your hair. A promise: Here. Always.

omg i wrote this in class so it's really bad LMFAO anywayss thanks for all the love and support, i really appreciate it :))

it's so sad that tour is over!

ANYWAYS hope you enjoy this and have a good day/night!

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for babysitting the Barton kids with Natasha

Natasha Romanoff x reader

warnings:

a/n: silly lil concept. also its like implied nat and y/n are dating but not explicit so like it can def be platonic or romantic depending on how you perceive it.

prompt:

oh you KNOWWW it’s gonna be a good time when “auntie nat” and y/n show up to babysit

clint and laura were going out of town for a whole week and left you two—the only two they trusted—to watch their three kids

and ofc the kids loved you guys to death

“can you show me how to shoot a gun?” -lila

“let’s check the rules your mom left” -nat, reading the note on the fridge “‘don’t let the kids touch your guns’ sorry kid, against the rules”

cooking was something you both were dreading

“can we take the quinjet to get mcdonalds?” -you

“only if you fly” -nat

no R-rated movies was circled and underlined on the “rules” note about 10 times

but the terminator doesn’t count right?

being woken up by nate in the middle of the night bc he cant sleep

“your turn, nat” -you

after nat didn’t come back to bed for a while you found her and nate playing “spies” (she really wanted him to be her mini-me 😭)

“y/n! wanna play?” -nate

*defeated sigh* “sure!” -you

within 20 minutes all the kids were downstairs pretending to be spies and the new mission was “get the kids back to bed”

“no, we cant dye nates hair red” -you

“it’d look great” -nat

“natasha they’re never going to let us see the kids again” -you

three kids is just a LOT of work

you had newfound respect for clint and laura

“it’d be easier if we could drug them” -nat

“yeah…..NO” -you

cooper and lila would start arguing over the shower, nate didn’t like his breakfast, nat was getting stir crazy, you were trying to patch a hole in the wall before clint ever knew it was there—yeah. pretty great stuff

check-in calls with laura

“hey! how are they doing, not causing you too much trouble?” -laura

*lila and cooper doing nat’s makeup TERRIBLY* “oh, yeah, we’re just fine. hang on. i have to send you a picture” -you, getting photographic evidence

“oh. my god. clint, you have to see this” -laura, holding up her phone to show the worlds deadliest assassin with horrendous green eyeshadow on her eyes and cheeks and smeared lipstick

“how’d they find my makeup?” -clint, sarcastically

you didn’t know it yet, but you’d be the next victim

“oh, thanks guys…you didn’t have to” -you

truthfully you and nat got some hilarious pictures together

those pictures would live on the barton fridge for years

tending to farm things

“should we call tony? the tractor is broken again” -you

“are you kidding? this is my week away from tony” -nat

it was kind of like a vacation for you guys too. it was no paris or london, but it was an escape from your routine

but you did already make plans for paris for right after this

“watching kids for a week earns us a nice vacation, right?” -you

“i feel like saving the world several times earns us a vacation, but sure, if you think babysitting is the way to go, we can do this more” -nat

lila asking for coffee

you checking the rules list, which has a bullet point saying “do not let lila have coffee”

cool aunt nat almost made her a nice little latte too

“hey, spies might be allowed to lie, but little girls are not. try again later” -you

pretending to be an elderly couple on the porch rocking chairs, drinking your morning coffe and watching the sunrise

“maybe we should retire. get a nice house in the woods. ignore the avengers when they call.” -you

“i don’t hate that idea” -nat

trying to get the kids to do their chores was a hassle

dishes, trash, laundry, cleaning bathrooms, these kids must have thought THEY were on vacation

“i hate how these kids are just not afraid of assassins. that is not normal” -nat

“it’s normal when they call a world famous assassin auntie nat” -you

“are you saying im going soft?” -nat

“i would never say that…” -you

she says in shock like she didn’t just bake cookies with them.

laura and clint finally came home and you guys had dinner ready for them

“aw, you didn’t have to do that” -laura

“don’t worry about it, i know you’ve been on the road all day” -you

you all ate dinner together and said your goodbyes and the kids all gave you a group hug

“i hope they behaved for you” -clint

“they were just perfect” -nat

and on your way out, you heard

“hey, did someone put a hole in the wall? this looks freshly patched” -clint

the kids scattered and you and nat were wise to exit promptly

“love you guys! lets do this again sometime!”

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[tiedyeflannels]

I Could Get Used to That

Kim Seokjin x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist

Tw: Kidnapping, fighting

A/N: Hey! This most recent "Run Jin" episode made me feral over actor Jin, so here's a little blurb! It's technically my first time writing an action scene, so please bear with me! Anyway, enjoy!

“How are you doing so far,” you asked Jin as he came to sit by you during a break while filming “Run Jin”.

“I’m so tired,” he huffed, taking the water bottle you offered to him.

“Well, there’s only the final clock out scene left. You’re going to do great,” you tried to encourage him.

He gulped down the water before looking at you.

“How am I looking,” he asked, as sly smirk started to make it’s way onto his lips.

You smiled and rolled your eyes, “You actually look pretty cool. I haven’t gotten to see a lot of ‘Actor Jin’ much these days.”

He smiled as the director called for break to be over. You both got up and started walking over to where Jin was supposed be to watch what he had to do for the final scene.

“Why don’t you try your hand at the final scene with me,” he asked, glancing at me with his arms crossed as he stood in position.

“You act,” Doohong asked as he walked over. 

You shook your head and hands, “No.”

“We were technically in the same acting major when we went to college,” Jin chimed in, peeking Doohong’s interest.

“I haven’t acted since then and that was what… almost ten years ago?”

Jin nodded, but Doohong was still creating an idea in his head. 

“How about we incorporate you in the scene,” he thought aloud.

You furrowed your eyebrows in slight confusion which made him explain a little more.

“It wouldn’t be anything big, and you wouldn’t have to do any of the stunts Jin’s doing.”

Jin chuckled at that statement thinking about how hard this scene is going to be. 

“We can just have you pretend to be kidnapped and Jin’s going to save you. No fighting or major stunts involved. What do you think?”

Wait, I'm the damsel in distress?

You looked between Jin, Doohong, and the set before shrugging. “I guess…”

Doohong clapped his hands in excitement, “Great! Let me talk with the team to set up the scene and then we’ll get started!”

He walked away, calling the actors for a huddle to talk about whats going to change. You sighed, shaking your head, then looking at Jin.

“Do you see what you did?”

He smiled at you, “Now you know my pain.”

You grumbled.

~

You and Jin were in the middle of going through the scene with the actors so when the time came to film, you nothing knew what to do. Your part was pretty easy compared to Jin's: hands held behind your back, being shoved, taking some (fake) punches before being led to a chair and being tied and blindfolded, all while Jin's fighting the “bad guys”. In the end, Jin finally finds, unties, and hugs you, happy that you're now safe and he got you in time.

It took a while to learn the sequence. They taught you how to make it look convincing when taking the punches a few more times and then you were done with practicing. Jin still wanted a couple more run-throughs to make sure he got it down, so while he did that, the hair and make-up team pulled you aside to fix your hair and add a couple of scratches and bruises to your face.

The director asked if everyone was ready to go. You and Jin nodded and he was led to climb a ladder onto the high wall-sill. You were led outside and got into position with the rest of the actors as you waited for the crew to say ‘action’.

One guy on your right side took your right arm, bringing it behind you, and bent it up so your hand was up on your back near your shoulder blades, then place his free hand on your shoulder.

Another guy on your left just held your left arm down and with his free hand, mirrored the other’s action and placed it on your shoulder. You shook your head a bit to mess up your hair, then you were all set when they called, “Action!”

The men who were holding your arms shoved you roughly though the entrance into a large garage. You tried jerking out of the grasp, but the action just made them hold on tighter as to not let you go.

“Let me go,” you exclaimed, trying your best to break free, but the man holding your arm behind your back pushed it up farther, sending a sharp pain up through your shoulder, making you wince.

“Get! Off of me!”

You struggled for a moment before Jin jumped off the ledge, rolling off some mats before making it to the ground. He looked around at the men before his eye landed on you.

“Jin,” you called out as he started to fight some of the gang members.

 One of the men from your group moved in front of you.

“Shut up already,” he said, frustratedly before throwing a punch. You quickly moved your head to the side (pretending to get hit).

You jerked forward, trying to break their hold on you, but unfortunately, it happened at the same time as he threw another punch, making it land on the apple of your cheek which sent a rush of pain to your face, making you cry out from the accidental impact. 

Tears started involuntarily pooling in your eyes as you were being dragged away. You looked at Jin just as he threw a glance over to you during a short break in fighting.

His brows furrowed in concern when he saw the tears in your eyes before you were led behind the curtain which made this situation much more real to him.

You were taken behind the first curtain and then through the second one that was behind the “boss” before you were forcefully placed in a chair.

Three men worked fast to restrain your legs and arms to the chair, all while putting a blindfold on you. You struggled trying to get out of the restraints, but it was no use. 

Your breathing quicken as you listened to what was happening beyond the curtain in front of you. Jin grunted as the boss threw him on top of the car, creating a metallic thud sound. There was some shifting that could be heard, another thud and a pause.

The curtain opened and some yelling ensued, along with some pained grunts, stating that Jin was here. One of the three men stood behind you while the others were fighting, grabbed your chin and forcefully lift your head, exposing your neck as he placed the (plastic) knife against it.

You tried moving your head, but stayed in that position for a moment longer until your chin was let go and a soft thud could be heard behind you.

The feeling of hands on your shoulders and the pain that was spreading across your face made you a bit more paranoid than you should’ve been, so you started jerking to try and get out of their grasp.

“Get away from me! Get-”

Jin took off the blindfold and you immediately looked eyes. You quietly searched his eyes and then his face as he did a once over before moving to untie your arms and legs. 

Once you were free, we threw yourself at him, wrapping your arm tight around his neck in desperate hug. He graciously returned it and slowly stood up before breaking the hug, gently placing his hands on either side of your face. He looked at you intently.

“Are you okay,” he whispered, looking at the made-up bruises and scratches and the not-so-fake bruise that was starting to form. 

You nodded, looking into his eyes. You watched as his eyes scanned your face again, but stayed a bit longer on your lips, then met your eyes again. You unconsciously tilted your head slightly to the side and before the director could shout “cut”, Jin placed his lips on yours. 

You melted into the kiss, which weirdly made the throbbing on you cheek go away, and placed one hand on the side of his head where his jaw and neck met and combed your fingers into the hair on the back of his head, hoping to make it last a little longer.

You both broke apart, basking in what just happened as the director yelled, “Cut!”

Clapping and whistling made its way around the room, making you and Jin come back to reality and the pain rush to your face once again.

“Ugh… ow,” you groaned, holding your cheek.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Y/n/n,” Jin asked, motioning for the on-site medic to come over.

He did, handing you an ice pack. You nodded in thanks and to answer Jin’s question as you placed the cold material on your cheek.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” you smiled.

“I am so sorry,” the guy who accidentally hit you exclaimed, bowing in apology.

You shook your head, “No, no! It’s my fault! I got a little carried away and didn’t stick with what we rehearsed! It’s all on me!”

Jin snaked his arm around your waist as you tried downplaying the situation so the actor wouldn’t feel too bad about accidentally punching you. Doohong came over to where you both were standing, clapping excitedly at the scene that just unfolded.

“Wow! I couldn’t have written a scene like that if I tried! That was amazing!”

You and Jin wore a relieved smile at the complement. 

“That was something out of an action-romance drama! You both would be great leads if you ever wanted to get into acting,” Doohong said.

Jin hummed, making you look at him, “Us in an action-romance…”

“Doesn’t sound too bad, huh,” you asked.

He shook his head, looking at you with a loving smile, “Me as the lead. You as my love interest. I think I could get used to that.”

You chuckled and placed your head on his shoulder, “Me too.”

[bisexualhomelander]

There is a lot of very interesting things in this interview that I would like to take a closer look at, so let me quote:

I mean, yes, we set out to be this funhouse mirror reflection of what we’re seeing in the world. Another metaphor is we like to be like the kid in the back of the classroom throwing spitballs at authoritarian — authority — figures because that’s healthy. The way some of these things line up, like us opening with a trial as certain former presidents were on trial and the way other world events seem to line up to the show are totally coincidental and frankly a little freaky.

I know he means this time-wise more than content-wise because the Trump trial happened right around the same week the show dropped, but there is something funny about him trying to play it off as coincidental. He has been name-dropping Trump and Homelander for so long now, and I have to admit that I do feel for him a little because he was, ironically, so on the money that by now, he has to fear his show getting censored to hell. And I know he is just trying to save it from that fate by saying: it was all a coinkydink, guysss, we're totally not criticising the gov. But Eric. Eric. Your marketing team YESTERDAY made a joke about Homelander being elected pope. Come on. You want me to believe "make America super again" was just you coincidentally choosing a cool motto for Homelander? Do what you must to save your show, man, I get it. But Jesus Christ.

And all I can say about it is it’s a show that’s about authoritarians who present as celebrities, and it’s a show about late-stage capitalism.

Eric, your show is on Amazon Prime.

But I’m really proud that our weird superhero show is also maybe the most current show on television.

As much as I complain about the Trump-Homelander thing, I am at a point where I feel Homelander might be doing a better job. At least he has Sage.

But our goal is we use that stuff [as] our flash and sizzle to get through a lot of our discussions and conversations about politics and society.

I find it a little disappointing that he seems to be under the impression that the people wouldn't want the more plot-heavy discussions and feels the need to include shock value. Eric, I think most people watch this show for the good plotlines. Season 1 was rife with plot and very little shock value, and it worked better.

That particular story, where Homelander goes down to the lab, that’s a really heartbreaking story. And a lot of that comes down to Ant[ony Starr], who really wanted to play it like a little boy. He had this really smart, insightful observation that when you go home, you revert to whoever you were when you were at that home, and he was a scared little boy then. Now he has all this power, but he’s still that little kid, and so, it made him, weirdly — to the extent to which Homelander can be — sympathetic [or] at least empathetic. You could at least understand how that torture led him to become the person that he is today. I think Ant pulls off an incredible magic trick to make maybe the most evil and sociopathic person on television understandable to the audience. And that is no small thing.

Eric, I don't think Homelander is the most sociopathic character on television. I don't even think he's in the Top 10 on your own show. You just described him, in this very sentence, as a scared boy. I don't fully believe a scared boy is the height of sociopathy. Either way, reading about Eric and Ant cooking scenes is always fun. They work so well.

(On another note, Eric is No. 1 creator of three-dimensional evil guys and then turns into the shocked Pikachu face when it actually works. He is such a guilty-pleasure-villain-lover. Eric, embrace it.)

And by design, we always love it when we can put Butcher and Homelander around the same emotional journeys and see how they react to them because they [have this] two sides of the same coin thing where they’re the epic hero and villain of the show. So anytime that we get an opportunity to mirror what they’re going through, we take it.

Thanks for the Butchlander mention, Eric, but... Did you just imply Butcher is the hero? Butcher? The man currently planning to genocide an entire species? That same Butcher? William J. Butcher?

Epic hero, even. Eric.

In many ways, it’s a show about humanity and how power, vengeance, and violence take it away.

Now take all that energy, Eric, and realise you're doing the same storyline with Homelander. And stop trying to say you're making him super evil.

Kripke talking a little about Soldier Boy ad Homelander's relationship in season 5

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

Little!Jackie - Sick Day

Notes -> little!jackie, cg!nat, cg!shauna, post-rescue ‘they all love in a big house together’ au, sick fic (first time writing cause usually it screws with my ocd but the Yellowjackets brain parasite is stronger), padded agere

Word count: 2300

Jackie was feeling no good at all. Her head was heavy, her nose was stuffy and her throat was all scratched up. She trudged downstairs slowly, Alice the bunny clutched tightly in one hand, the other gripping the stair rail so she wouldn’t fall. The sounds of her family in the kitchen were too loud even from here. “Morning Jackie!” Mari called out, running past her down the stairs far faster than Jackie had been able to. She groaned, the sound of her own name ringing in her ears.

It seemed like a literal beehive downstairs, everyone buzzing around like they had somewhere very important to be. That’s when it hit her - the zoo. It had been in the calendar for months now, everyone practically overflowing with excitement for a group trip to the zoo which had just opened up an hour away. Jackie had been so excited- she’d even set out her clothes for today - but waking up feeling like her face was stuffed with cotton balls had certainly been distracting. “Jax, why aren’t you dressed?” Shauna asked, once Jackie finally reached the ground floor. Jackie wasn’t really sure why she hadn’t gotten dressed - she always did before leaving her room in the morning. But today, as silly as it sounded, she’d just needed to find some comfort first. She was regretting it now - her pull-up feeling cold, heavy and far too obvious between her legs. Jackie’s words caught in her mouth, only a pathetic little cough coming out. Shauna’s face fell, a gentle hand coming up to cup Jackie’s warm cheeks. “You don’t look too good, baby.”

Jackie pouted, pressing her face into Shauna’s hand and revelling in the coolness of it. She sniffled, tears brimming in her eyes because everything just felt so icky. “Don’ feel good mummy,” she mumbled, shuffling forward so her body was flush against Shauna’s.

“I know princess, let’s get you back to bed.”

Jackie felt worse by the time she was tucked back into bed. Her tummy hurt, she felt all shivery and the realisation that she wasn’t going to be allowed to go to the zoo with everyone else had finally caught up to her. She couldn’t help the tears that were beginning to roll down her cheeks, discomfort and disappointment eating her up from the inside. “I’m going to go get you some tylenol, you stay right here,” Shauna whispered, brushing her lips over the edge of Jackie’s hairline.

Once Shauna had left Jackie pulled herself out of bed quickly, scrambling clumsily to get out of her pajamas. More specifically, out of her pull up which had started to irritate her skin and make everything feel worse. She managed to pull herself back into bed before Shauna returned, which was a relief because her whole body felt shivery and she wanted to hide beneath the covers for the rest of her life. “Nat says she wants to stay home with you today, she’s tired from work last night anyway,” Shauna explained softly, holding out the pills for Jackie. She whined, petulantly crossing her arms. Not because of Nat - but because she didn’t want to swallow the yucky pills. “Jax?” Jackie turned her head into her pillow, hiding the tears which were now flowing freely over her face. Shauna sighed, rubbing Jackie’s shoulder blade. “Look, I know it isn’t very nice but I promise you it will make you feel so much better.” A strangled sob escaped Jackie’s lips, frustration building like a pressure in her chest.

“I don’t wanna!” She snapped, pressing her fists roughly into her mattress. Shauna jolted away, startled by the harsh movement.

“Jackie…”

“No, no, no! It’s not fair,” she whined, kicking her legs out because she didn’t have any other way to expel all the feelings in her body.

“Jax, baby, it’s ok,” Shauna cooed, pulling herself up onto the bed so she could wrap Jackie up in her arms. Shauna rocked her softly, whispering gentle reassurances. “You’re so brave Jax, I know. Look… we have some calpol from when Lottie got sick a few months ago, I can’t promise it will work as well but it means you won’t have to take tablets.” Jackie nodded eagerly, wincing when it made her brain bash painfully against the inside of her skull.

Back with a syringe of kids paracetamol, Shauna tried again. “It’s strawberry flavour, just like your ice cream, won’t that be nice?” She hummed, guiding Jackie so she was straddling her lap. “Now, do you want to hold it or should mommy?” Jackie pressed a finger to Shauna’s chest and opened her mouth a little bit for the tip or the syringe. “Ok, there’s water right here when you finish.” Shauna held up a little pink cup with princess Belle on the front. Without much more warning, Shauna slipped the tip into Jackie’s mouth and pressed it in.

It did not taste like strawberry ice cream. Not one bit. She swallowed it reluctantly, tears in her eyes. “I know, I know, I'm sorry,” Shauna cooed, offering the water which Jackie drank quickly. “Good girl, you’re so brave for me.” Shauna replaced the empty cup with Alice the bunny.

Once Jackie was settled again, Shauna said she had to go - not without offering to stay home, but Jackie hadn’t thought that would be very fair on Shauna who had been so looking forward to seeing the hyenas. “Say hi to the monkeys for me,” Jackie whispered as her eyes began to close from exhaustion.

The next thing Jackie was aware of was how cold she was. And also the smell of Nat, that at least was comforting. Nat’s arms around her body, Nat’s shoulder against her chest. The sound of running water. “Mama?” She mumbled, blearily opening her eyes for only a moment before the light was too much and she slammed them shut again.

“Hey Princess,” Nat cooed. “We’re just in the bathroom, I'm running a bath. You were getting pretty hot.” What Nat didn’t say - but that Jackie was becoming increasingly aware of - was the damp coolness of drying urine on her thighs and back. She whined, pressing her face into Nat’s shoulder out of shame. “I know, Mama’s got you,” Nat whispered, jostling Jackie slightly as she turned off the tap. “Let’s get you cooled off.”

The water was nice, though Jackie kept asking for warmer water and Nat kept saying no, because she needed to cool down. It was still warm enough though, and Nat mixed through some lavender bath salts that Lottie had made. Nat was careful with her, gently soothing a face washer over Jackie’s sore body and making sure not to get her hair even the slightest bit damp. Jackie sadly eyed the bucket of bath toys that sat beside the bath, feeling just too tired to play with them. Once Nat concluded her temperature had dropped enough, and Jackie couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, she gently helped the girl out. She had Jackie’s favourite towel waiting - the one with a little hood and bunny ears. Nat wrapped her up tightly and picked her up, that made Jackie feel a little bit better. Even though she knew it was a little bit hard for Nat to carry her, she was still going to the effort. “Wher’r we goin’?” Jackie slurred, when she noticed Nat wasn’t walking in the direction of her bedroom.

“Just into Lottie’s room, it’ll just be a bit easier in there.” Jackie just sighed, exhausted, and dropped her head back down to Nat’s shoulder. In Lottie’s room, Nat sat her down on the change table. Jackie whined immediately - unimpressed by where this was going. “Look, Jax, you can’t dress yourself right now and your bed is wet so we’re just going to use this for now, ok?” There were tears in Jackie’s eyes again - and she didn’t know if it was the pure humiliation of the whole thing or just how awfully sick she felt. “Once we’re done, I’ll get you a bottle and we can watch some strawberry shortcake and cuddle, doesn’t that sound nice?” It did sound nice. Reluctantly - and really only because it was starting to make her head hurt to sit up for this long - Jackie lay down on her back against the change table.

It felt a bit weird at first to have Nat change her, but though Jackie would never admit it - she started to find it almost comforting. Nat used baby lotion and powder, which Jackie never used when she put her pull-ups on, and she picked out a proper diaper - ‘just because you’re not feeling too well’. Jackie didn’t care, not right now, all she cared about was how long it was taking to get to strawberry shortcake, baba, and cuddles with Natty. Nat finished the outfit off with just a sweatshirt - one of Nat’s own which Lottie must have stolen. It was comfortable and she said it was just so Jackie didn’t need to worry about when it was time for a change - she was sick and small and Mama would handle it for her.

As Jackie lay there, miserable and exhausted, she couldn’t help but let her mind flutter to what she was supposed to be doing today. Were they looking at the monkeys now? Or maybe the reptiles? Maybe they were having the snacks she was sure Tai would’ve prepared for them, sandwiches and strawberries and cookies. The thought of food made Jackie’s stomach churn. The thought of all of it made her stomach churn. It wasn’t fair! Hot tears started rolling down Jackie’s cheeks which felt stupid because she’d already lost count of how many times she’d cried today. And it felt even worse because it was her fault they were here anyway - and if she felt bad she couldn’t imagine how bored Nat must be taking care of her instead of going to the zoo. “Oh Princess, what’re the tears for?” Nat hummed softly, sitting Jackie up and leaning over the change table to hug Jackie. Jackie sniffled into the soft fabric of Nat’s shirt.

She felt silly saying it, but also she didn’t want to lie to Nat. “Zoo…” she mumbled sadly.

Nat sighed, rubbing Jackie’s back softly. “I know, poor thing, you’re just not well enough today. But I know that doesn’t feel very fair, it isn’t. When you are better, we’ll go again, and I’m sure you’ll be allowed to get an ice cream and we can look at all the animals you want instead of everyone else.” The idea was enough to calm Jackie’s tears, or maybe she just felt too tired to keep caring about it. Either way, she stopped crying and Nat said it was time for a bottle.

They grabbed Alice bunny (and Benjamin bear, and pinkie pie the pony and the grey calico critter kitten) from Jackie’s room before heading downstairs. Nat carried her the whole way, not uttering a word of complaint even though she knew her back and arms would be bothering her for the rest of the day. “There you go,” she hummed proudly once Jackie was situated on the couch with all her blankets and toys. “I’ll be back in a minute with your bottle princess.” Jackie sniffled, reaching for one of the tissues Nat had placed by the couch.

Nat brought back a bottle of strawberry milk, a treat which earnt a happy babble of thanks from Jackie in between miserable coughs. Nat situated herself behind Jackie, rubbing a warm hand over her chest where she knew the congestion was bothering her most. “Don’t worry if you fall asleep, ok baby? You need the rest.” Jackie hummed softly, even strawberry shortcake not being enough to keep her eyes open. They just felt so heavy. Everything felt heavy.

When Jackie woke up, things felt lighter. Her head was still fuzzy and her throat scratchy, but at least her eyes actually felt like they could stay open for more than five seconds. “There’s my pretty girl,” Nat cooed when she noticed Jackie stirring.

“Ma, ma,” Jackie babbled, turning around so she could press her face against Nat. She spent a moment just breathing in the smell of Nat’s cologne - not that she could smell very well at all - before her sensitive ears were hit with the sound of the door swinging open and a stampede of elephants invading her home.

It was not elephants afterall, just her family, buzzing with excitement and sugar. “What did I say about being quiet?” Shauna warned from somewhere nearby, “Jackie isn’t feeling well, remember?”

“Nauna,” Jackie mumbled, looking up from Nat’s shoulder to try and find Shauna. She was standing just a little bit away, looking worriedly at Jackie. Jackie reached out for her, she’d really missed her mommy.

“Hi baby,” Shauna smiled - though it felt forced - and pressed a kiss to Jackie’s forehead. “How are you feeling?” Jackie just shrugged and coughed a little. She wanted to tell Shauna about how she thought maybe she was feeling a little bit better - but she was interrupted by Mari shoving her way past the others to get to her.

“Jackie!” She exclaimed loudly, earning a soft hush from Shauna. She at least had the decency to look a little bit sorry as she noticed Jackie wince. “We got you something,” she explained, this time deliberately quieter. Mari held out a little monkey toy. It was black with little brown patches around its eyes, tummy and paws. It also had little Velcro patches on its paws which would make it perfect for hanging on things like a real monkey. The gift was enough to earn a genuine smile from Jackie as she took it into her hands, hugging it tightly.

“Thank you,” she smiled between sniffles.

[kattsmuse]

TF 141 Flirting Styles and Love Languages

What started as an ask from Ty ( @siriuslysmutty ) turned into a really long ramble, mostly because of Johnny. I decided to break it into a mini series. Here's how I think Johnny would flirt, and fail miserably at a suave first impression. This man thinks he's so cool and alluring, which he is... but when he tries to be, he trips over himself.

Note: I personally do not write accents/spell the way they sound because I find it difficult for myself to do as well as difficult for some individuals to read.

Please see this post for more information on my reasonings for this

Remember lead with kindness <3

Johnny McTavish Flirting Headcannon

I was probably the most torn on Johnny. I feel as though he exists somewhere between feral little shit and adhering to his religion. I don't think it's as much of a "one or the other" situation. While I love the idea of Johnny not wanting to be intimate until marriage (and proposing while he's grinding all up on you so he can have a taste), I don't think that's the most realistic for him. I think Johnny is very flirty, fails at it, and uses it as a broken mask.

He sees you in a bar and just cannot take his eyes off of you. He isn't so innocent in his gaze, but he waits. He does his utmost to read your body language and ensure you're not married. Glance down the finger, no ring - nor is there a tan line where a ring should be. Watching the men you interact with. Not one of them has an ounce of familiarity. At a bare minimum you are on a first date. While Johnny is observant, he's also incredibly impulsive.

He's tried to learn from John. Observe, gather information, plan, approach. Johnny can be patient, but that patience wears thin all too quickly. In comparison, John's patience is like a quilt compared to Johnny's tinfoil. Once Johnny can be sure you're not outwardly committed, he approaches. Every ripple of his muscles burn with anticipation as he grows closer to you.

He's got it all planned out in his mind. Some charming pick-up line and you'll be putty in his hands.... (giggles and little devil emoji)

He sits beside you, opens his mouth to speak. But instead of a charming one-liner or something to make you laugh... his nerves get the better of him and all that comes out is the fastest line of gibberish you'd ever heard. It can't even be fully blamed on his accent. He was harboring so much anxiety to speak to you, that every word tripped over the other. Even the most articulate speaker in your native language would have made zero sense with how quickly he spoke.

You blink for a second and look at him, your brows knit together. "Excuse me?" That was all you could say, unsure how to even begin deciphering whatever it was that just blurted from his mouth. The man beside you that had walked over with so much confidence actually had a dusting of rose on the tops of his cheeks. You couldn't help but soften a bit at his embarrassment. You'd probably be mortified if it happened to you.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, whatever pick-up line that was in his mind suddenly gone when your gaze met his.

Johnny is a flirty man, normally mildly offensive and towing the line of cat-calling. But he got so flustered in front of you he found it difficult to put the pieces of his mask back in place.

"Didn't mean to stumble that hard-" Johnny huffed, grumbling under his breath. Only parts of his words emphasized by the pitch of his voice.

"Want to try again? I can pretend I didn't see it?" Normally, you'd have told him to piss off by now, but you found his little hiccup amusing and rather endearing. It humanized him in your eyes. A man trying to flirt with a girl he liked, not some sleaze ball trying to get into your pants directly. It was a fine line that you made room for.

"Nah- I'd just settle for a name." He'd recovered from the misstep rather well, a slight smirk curled in the corners of his lips. You noticed the way he had pronounced his words that he was Scottish. His vowels rising and falling, some consonants missing from the way he spoke, and there was a melodic quality to his voice. It was dynamic, not a hint of flattened tone to find.

The more the two of you speak, the more you grow comfortable and the more flirtatious he gets. At some point, you find him shamelessly staring at your chest, but you're not put off by it as much as you'd expect. It's usually coupled with some half-baked dirty joke that your own crude humor finds amusing. He knows it's corny, you can tell by the look in his eye.

Johnny is the type of man who intends to flirt with his words, but sometimes he speaks so fast you don't pick up on what exactly he's saying. But his intention is always clear. Johnny is a shameless flirt, especially once you two are together. Once you're more comfortable with one another his true flirting style comes to the surface.

Johnny isn't a poet. He's actually very bad with words. He doesn't have the most subtle gaze. He will fully get distracted by you while you're talking to him.

Johnny flirts with his body. He's always wanting to touch you. While a slap on the bottom or a quick grope in the comfort of your own home is always a tell-tale sign from him of his affection for you, it is also his gentleness need to always have physical contact with you.

At a restaurant, he's always wanting to hold your hand across the table, or resting his leg against yours under the table. He wants to hold your hand all the time, always wrapping his arms around you from behind, always kissing your shoulder. If he's touching you, he's happy. Johnny is a feral man, but he also thrives on his gentle intimacy. Brushing your hair, caressing your arms, non-sexual massages.

Even with more literal flirting, from that first time meeting him, he would hold your gaze, then look down to your lips. It's not subtle, but alluring all the same. He jokes and touches. He's a physical flirt.

[jibitzlesscrocs]

dad!chris sturniolo x reader

(nathan and cody (twins): 7 years , amelia: 5 years)

warning : none

old treasure

in which, the kids find their dads old recorder

It all started when Cody and Nathan were digging through the attic, looking for old video games Chris had promised were “somewhere up there.”

“Dad has so much junk,” Nathan muttered, pushing aside a dusty box labeled CHRIS’S STUFF – DO NOT TOUCH.

Cody smirked. “That means we definitely have to touch it.”

Nathan opened the box and immediately pulled out an old camcorder. “Whoa. What’s this?”

Cody turned it over in his hands. “An ancient artifact.”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “No, idiot, it’s a camera.” He pressed a few buttons, and to their surprise, it still worked. A video popped up on the tiny screen.

“Future Chris & Y/n”

The boys exchanged a look.

“Oh, we have to watch this.”

Movie Night… with a Twist

Later that evening, Cody and Nathan set up the video on the TV while the whole family gathered around. Chris and you had no idea what was coming.

“You guys found a what?” Chris asked, sitting on the couch with his arm around you.

Nathan smirked. “An old video labeled Future Chris & Y/n. Care to explain?”

Chris’s eyes widened. “No way. No. Nope. Shut it off.”

But before he could snatch the remote, the screen flickered to life.

There, in much younger form, sat you and chris—probably in your late teens or early twenties, grinning at the camera.

“Alright,” Young Chris said, leaning in. “This is a message for our future selves. If you’re watching this… congrats. You didn’t die.”

The kids burst out laughing.

“Real poetic, Dad,” Cody teased.

Young you rolled your eyes at the camera. “We’re supposed to be talking about our future, Chris.”

“Oh, right.” Young Chris grinned. “Okay, okay. So, Future Chris, are you married to y/n? Because if you’re not—”

“I will kill you,” Young you interrupted, pointing at the camera.

Nathan gasped. “MOM WAS A THREATENER?!”

You laughed. “Still am.”

On screen, Young Chris chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. But real talk—if we have kids, are they cool? Are they little troublemakers? Do we have, like, three kids?”

Nathan, Cody, and Amelia all turned to their parents with wide eyes.

“Dad predicted us.”

Chris grinned. “I manifested you guys.”

Back on the screen, Young you leaned into Chris’s shoulder. “Okay, future us, what’s life like? Are we happy? Do we still dance in the kitchen? Do we still have the same dumb inside jokes?”

Chris went quiet for a second, staring at the screen. You reached for his hand, squeezing it.

“Young me was so sappy,” Chris muttered, but he smiled.

Then, Young Chris sighed dramatically. “Okay, serious question. Future Chris… did you finally get y/n that ridiculous, expensive ring she wanted?”

The kids turned instantly to Chris.

“DAD. DID YOU?!”

Chris groaned, rubbing his face. “WHY WOULD I EXPOSE MYSELF LIKE THIS?!”

You smirked, flashing your hand. “Yes, he did. And I remind him of it every day.”

The video continued, Young Chris suddenly grinning mischievously. “And most importantly—Future Chris, are you still whipped?”

The kids exploded into laughter.

Chris groaned. “Oh my god.”

You smirked. “Well?”

Chris sighed dramatically, then turned to his kids. “Yes. Yes, I am. There. You happy?”

Amelia giggled. “I knew it!”

The video ended with Young you resting your head on Young Chris’s shoulder, smiling softly.

“No matter what, I hope we’re still us,” you said.

The screen went black.

For a moment, the room was silent. Then Chris pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We are, baby”

You smiled. “Yeah. We are.”

Nathan smirked. “So, what I’m hearing is… Dad’s been in love with Mom forever.”

Cody grinned. “And he’s still whipped.”

Chris groaned. “I regret having kids.”

Amelia giggled, snuggling between you both. “No, you don’t.”

Chris sighed, ruffling her hair. “No, I don’t.”

MAI’S STORE

another oneeeee

[autrytonic]

Clover

summary • GN Reader and Arthur Morgan have an established, long-term relationship. They have a pet Cocker Spaniel who stays with them over the years.

CW • declining health in pet

author's note • I'm going through a lot of stuff right now regarding one of my pets so I made this out of my current struggles. I find sanctuary in writing characters and scenes in which I'm going through myself. pls pls be kind to yourself and don't read this if you're lighthearted to these kinds of subjects.

Clover under the cut.

You and Arthur never sought out any type of domesticity— y'all knew what y'all where. Outlaws, bandits, partners in crime. So when a dainty, minute, slobbery, and loving Cocker Spaniel puppy came strolling into y'all's lives, it was surprising to Arthur that you took them in with open arms.

The puppy that you then named Clover, as they were a sign of good luck, became a facet in you and Arthur's lives— almost as if the small puppy was a surrogate child.

Clover was a bundle of soft, floppy-eared charm with big, soulful eyes and a silky coat that often waves slightly around the ears and legs. Even brute, stoic Arthur enjoyed taking the dog in his lap after a hard day of work as a way to relax. You'd often hear him coo to the pup as they sit at the camp fire; "Good girl".

Years go by and Clover stays loyal to you and Arthur, even after the demise of the VDL gang. Once the turmoil dies down, you and Arthur find a home outside of Valentine to put y'all's roots down.

Arthur runs a small farm, much like John, while you make the home alongside taking care of Clover, y'all's baby.

But with the years passing by, Clover gets older. Their once golden face is now spackled with gray whiskers, much like Arthur. While Clover used to play, chase, and, hunt for what seems like hours on end, they now spend even more time in front of the fireplace, on the porch near the swing, or in Arthur's lap to receive the same praises she has for all those years— "Gettin' old there, girl." becomes a new one.

Clover then stops all together. All she does is sleep next to that fireplace. Arthur often has to help her into bed when she once used to spring so effortlessly onto the bed and cuddled up between you and Arthur.

It becomes clear that Clover's days are coming to an end after several years with her.

One evening, it becomes too much to ignore.

The porch is quiet that evening, the way it gets when the world knows something is ending. You sit in your usual spot, rocking slowly, your hand resting on the soft, thinning coat of the little cocker spaniel curled beside your feet. She barely moved all day, not even for the sound of her bowl or the clatter of boots. Her breathing is shallow, each rise of her ribs like a sigh.

Arthur’s leaning against the porch post, coffee cooling in his hand, eyes set somewhere out in the field—but you know he’s been watching you both. He shifts, then speaks low, almost like he’s afraid to break something fragile.

“She ain’t eatin’ again.”

You nod without looking at him, your fingers tracing the line of her ear the way you’ve done for years. “She didn’t even lift her head when I called her this morning.”

Arthur walks over and crouches beside her, letting his hand settle gently on her back. “I seen her try to stand earlier. Legs just gave out under her. She laid there a long time. Didn’t whimper. Didn’t fight. Just… looked at me like she was waitin’.”

You feel the ache bloom deep in your chest, the kind that words can’t soothe. “She’s been with us since them damned days. Slept at the foot of our bed every damn night.”

“She’s a good girl,” he says, voice thick. “Best there is. But she’s hurtin’, sweetheart. I don’t think she’s got much left in her.”

You finally look at him. His eyes are red at the edges, and he’s trying hard not to show it. You ask the question even though the answer is already sitting in both your hearts. “You think it’s time?”

Arthur looks down at her, then back at you. “I think maybe it’s kinder if we let her go. Let her leave this world with us beside her. Not scared. Not in pain.”

The tears come easy now, and you lean down to press your cheek against her soft side. She smells like the sun and the grass and the years you’ve shared. “I don’t want her to be alone.”

“She won’t be,” he promises, reaching for your hand. “Not for a second. And if you want… I’ll do it myself. I’ll make sure it’s quick. Gentle.”

You squeeze his hand and nod, throat tight. “We’ll do it together. We owe her that.”

Arthur’s jaw works as he holds back whatever he’s feeling. “We’ll give her one more good night. Let her sleep in our bed. I’ll cook her bacon first thing. Let her feel the grass under her paws one last time.”

You nod, tears falling freely now. “She deserves that.”

Clover stirs slightly, pressing her nose weakly into your palm as if she knows. You curl your body around her, Arthur wrapping his arms around the both of you, and the three of you sit there as the sun dips low behind the trees—together, in the quiet, holding on a little longer.

[loveharlow]

Hi, really love ur writing !!

So can u write something with jealousjj

Like he was denying everything between yn and him but obsessed

he would be so ANNOYING, like boy yk you're in love with that girl and jb and pope would give him hell yk they would

swearing, pining, jealousy, sexual innuendoes

John B and Pope approached JJ where he stood with his back against his closed locker, noticing his intense stare and crossed arms. JB clapped the blonde on the shoulder as they reached him. "Yo, you good? What's got your attention, man?"

JJ shrugged, adjusting his posture and looking at his shoes as he tried to play it cool. "Nothin', nothin'. Just... observing the wildlife." He lied horribly, considering they were in the hallways of Kildare High.

Pope raised an eyebrow, following JJ's earlier line of vision to find you and the new transfer kid talking and laughing. A slow smirk spread across his face. "Uh-huh... Must be mating season then." He teased, hiking his backpack up on his shoulder.

John B grinned, catching on. "Yeah, they seem pretty friendly. Dude's kinda cute, too." He nudged JJ's arm before leaning his arm on his shoulder. "You gonna let him steal your girl, J?"

JJ scoffed, but there was a definite edge to his voice. "She's not my girl." He brushed off, shaking his head and looking away from his friends.

"Oh, really?" Pope challenged, his smirk widening. "Could've fooled me. You've been staring at her like a lovesick puppy all year but you've been too chickenshit to say a word to her."

"Shut up, Pope," JJ muttered, his eyes still fixed on you. He hated how easily they could read him. He wasn't lovesick. He just didn't like seeing you with other guys...that weren't him.

"Nah, he's right." JB added. "What happened to JJ 'The Player' Maybank? You'll smooth talk any other girl but you're letting this one get away when you've been pining after her for months." John B, ever the instigator, continued, "Now, you've got some guy takin' her from you, dude."

"And he's from France." Pope cringed, throwing the statement out there. "Girls love that shit."

"Exactly!" John B agreed, throwing his hands up. "He's probably offering to butter her croissant right now, bro. Maybe you should go over there and, I don't know, mark your territory." He made air quotes with his fingers.

JJ shot him a glare. "I'm not marking anything. She's not somethin' to be marked, Bree. I just... I need to talk to her about somethin' and he's been hogging her all day, that's all." It was a lame excuse, and they all knew it.

"She's the school tour guide, JJ. Which you already know. She's probably just showing him around because she has to." Pope tried to remind.

"Tour guide this, tour guide that, that kid will learn his way around eventually but if you-" He emphasized, digging his pointer finger into JJ's chest. "-keep letting him make her giggle like that he's gonna turn your girl into a cream cheese pastry-"

"Shut the fuck up, dude." JJ cringed, scoffing. Okay, he did have feelings for you. He just didn't know what to do about them.

"Just sayin'." JB shrugged, a sly smile on his face. "Go get her, tiger." He pushed the blonde forward, closer in your direction.

JJ hesitated for another moment, watching as the student leaned closer to you, saying something that made you laugh even harder. A knot of something that felt suspiciously like jealousy tightened in his stomach.

Finally, he pushed himself off the locker, a newfound determination in his eyes. He started walking towards you and the french boy, trying to look nonchalant, like he just happened to be passing by. John B and Pope exchanged amused glances, knowing they'd hit a nerve. This was going to be interesting.

JJ Maybank Taglist in replies!

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow